Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 557 The Cultured Leader

The camp gate was wider than I had imagined. The stone walls on both sides were over ten meters high and about three meters thick. The stones were large and rough, and even the smallest stone was bigger than a Muggle car.

At a height of about seven meters, a row of huge spines, seven or eight of them, are embedded in the stone wall, gleaming yellowish-white in the morning light.

The doorway was wide enough for six giants to walk side by side, and tall enough for Geralt and his two companions to stand beneath it like three small, upright sticks.

Following the giant through the gate, the view widened, and the stone buildings on both sides stretched out from the edge of the field of vision. The door of the stone house was over ten meters high; even if Geralt and his two companions were stacked together, they would still be two Dumbledores short of reaching the lintel.

Beneath our feet lies rammed earth, worn smooth for hundreds of years, almost as hard as stone slabs, its surface polished to a shine by the footsteps of countless giants, and the ground constantly vibrates slightly.

Geralt followed about twenty paces behind the giant, and could see the commotion inside the camp.

A giant without armor squatted on the ground by the roadside, scraping fat off a spread-out animal hide with a large, curved stone. His arm movements were slow and steady, and each scrape off a chunk of fat the size of a human head.

He saw three humans walking towards him from the middle of the road. He stopped what he was doing, slowly turned his head, and looked down with his large, cloudy, brownish eyes. He then looked up at the back of the armored giant leading the way before looking away and continuing to scrape.

Further in, things were piled up on both sides of the road, and huge animal hides were draped on top of the stone walls to dry, with water still dripping from the edges, leaving a fist-sized wet mark on the ground.

On the stone base are half-finished bone artifacts, some two or three meters long, shaped like the handles of some kind of tool. Half of the surface has been polished, while the other half remains in a rough, primitive state.

In front of a row of low, long buildings, there were piles of reindeer antlers and bundles of dried, hardened meat hanging on a wooden frame made from the trunk of a single pine tree, about the same thickness as Geralt's waist.

The first metallic clang came from the forging area on the east side. The sound was so loud it was ear-piercing, making my head buzz and my eardrums go numb.

The giants around them did not react at all, continuing to scrape their skin as they squatted, walking and stopping as needed.

Or perhaps they do, but you can't tell because of the difference in height and size. Their ears are only so big, so that sound would probably just be background white noise to the giants, similar to the sound of a rag rubbing against wood when wiping a table.

Over at the forging area, a giant wearing an apron stood beside a stone furnace, holding an iron hammer about the size of Hagrid's head. Dark red heat emanated from the furnace opening, and scorching air surged upwards from it, distorting the air above into a blur.

The camp was larger than it appeared from the outside. After passing through the camp gate, it took another ten minutes or so to enter the living area. The giants became densely packed, some squatting, some standing, each doing their own thing.

Several people were sitting on the steps in front of the stone house, whittling something in their hands. Wood shavings had accumulated at their feet.

Another person stood by the stone wall, holding a thick iron rod in his hand. He spun it around his head a few times, then bent it down in front of him, repeating the action as if he were training his strength.

Further away in an open space, two giants stood face to face, pushing and shoving each other. Their movements were slow, but their strength was immense.

Giants have large eyes, mostly cloudy and brownish in color. When looking down from above, their gazes show no clear emotion; they simply look.

He saw three humans walking in the middle, then saw the armored giant leading the way, then withdrew and continued with his own business.

The giants in the living area were more relaxed than those on the outskirts. Several of them stared at them for a while without making any move closer, just following their movements with their large eyes.

Geralt walked very obediently, without waving or looking around, without making any unnecessary movements, just staring straight ahead and following the giant's steps into the building.

But it was a bit difficult to keep up. A giant's step was equivalent to four or five steps for a human. The giant leading the way did not slow down and took as many steps as he was required to.

The three of them were practically walking in circles, moving so fast and hurriedly that the hems of their vests slapped against their thighs. Any faster and they would have been jogging.

The magic perception was fully activated the moment they entered, spreading out in a 360-degree radius, covering a wide area enough to scan the magic signals of the entire camp into their perception.

However, the result was a little different. We already knew from the outer territory marking zone that the giant had magic power, but the distance was far and the signal was blurry, so we could only confirm that he had it.

Now, with dozens of giants passing by, so close they could feel each other's breath, the magical signals became clear.

After things became clear, he realized he had made a mistake about something he initially thought was right: the giant's magic had no core.

Wizards, regardless of the strength of their magic, always have a core. Magic radiates outward from the core, with the intensity decreasing with distance.

The magical creatures and plants he encountered varied in structure, but there was always an area where magic was relatively concentrated, and there was always a source.

The giant's magic is diffused, mixed with muscles, bones, blood, and nerves.

There were no boundaries between magic and every physical part of his body. He couldn't even say which part had deeper magic. It felt like a house that was glowing everywhere, with light sources on the walls, floors, and roof.

It's unclear whether it's an innate racial trait or something they developed through training; it's also unclear whether all giants are like this, or whether it's only the giants of this tribe.

Magic is deeply bound to the physical body, so attacking magic is equivalent to attacking the physical body at the same time? Or is it the other way around, with giants' bodies already being able to withstand attacks, and their resistance increasing further after acquiring magic?

He couldn't figure it out; the sample size was insufficient, and the contact time was too short. However, he did learn one thing: with his considerable knowledge, the way the magic of these giants operated was completely different from anything he had ever encountered before.

After walking for another seven or eight minutes, we arrived at the center of the camp. A stone house that was noticeably taller and wider appeared in front of us. Two stone pillars stood in front of the door in the morning light, with dense engravings on their surfaces extending from the bottom to the top.

The image of a giant, the outline of a mountain range, scenes of hunting, scenes of battle, and some symbols he did not recognize.

The engravings are deep, and the edges have been worn smooth by time. The bottom rows of engravings are much older than the top ones, and the weathering of the stone surface is visibly severe.

Geralt looked up for a while and guessed that the time inside was at least a thousand years, possibly even older than Hogwarts.

The giant leading the way stopped in front of the stone house, walked to a spot on the left, took the battle axe off his back, planted the axe end on the ground, and placed his hands on the top of the axe handle.

The eyes behind the mask glanced at Geralt, then veered towards the main entrance of the stone house.

Geralt looked at the giant's posture. In any culture and race, this stance meant the same thing: a guard, protecting the leader.

No wonder his senses are so sharp; he can detect a line of sight from hundreds of meters away. By wizarding standards, this is top-tier detection ability.

He nodded to the giant, and the eyes behind the mask no longer looked at him, returning to the front.

Geralt didn't mind, turned and walked into the doorway, with Fabian and Gideon following behind him.

The stone house has no door; it has an arched entrance that is over ten meters high, and it is very dark inside.

Sunlight slanted in from the arched ceiling, illuminating only a few steps from the entrance and a small section of the stone wall.

Footsteps came from deep within the stone house, heavier and slower than those of the giant outside, with longer intervals, and a figure emerged from the shadows.

It was also taller and wider than the leading giant. The one outside, wearing full armor, was five and a half meters tall, while the one that came out was not wearing armor and was just over six meters tall.

The width of its shoulders almost completely obscures the lower half of the arched doorway, and its size casts a large, moving shadow in the light from the entrance.

He was wearing a heavy patchwork leather armor, with different materials of dragon skin sewn together. Dark brown scales and grayish-brown thick leather were arranged alternately, with large stitches and ropes as thick as a finger.

Sunlight streamed down from above the vaulted ceiling, illuminating him.

Its skin was grayish-brown, rough in texture, with pores much larger than those of a human, but the texture was clear, unlike the rough and blurry skin of ordinary giants in books.

The facial bone structure is clear, with high brow bones, broad cheekbones, and a square and heavy outline. The facial features are also well-proportioned and symmetrical by human standards.

There were several lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. He was a giant in his prime, with a thick and solid physique. The muscle lines on his arms were fully stretched under the dragon skin sleeves.

With grayish-green eyes, yellowish whites, large pupils, and a deep gaze, he stood at the doorway, looking down at the three humans in front of him, neither moving nor speaking, just watching.

Geralt stood about ten paces in front of him, looking up, with Fabian and Gideon standing a step behind him on either side.

A gust of wind blew in from outside the stone house, fluttering the edge of the giant's animal skin robe before it fell back down.

After a brief silence, two short metallic clanging sounds came from the forging area, then stopped again.

The giant spoke, his voice deep and resonant. The low-frequency vibrations emanating from deep within his chest struck Geralt, sending a tingling sensation from his scalp to his back.

Norwegian sentences are short, consisting of several syllables strung together. The speaking speed was normal for giants, but rather slow for humans.

Geralt didn't understand. He could tell it was a question because the tone was raised at the end, but he couldn't understand any of the specific words.

The few Norwegian phrases he prepared were only enough for greetings and introducing himself; anything beyond that was beyond his scope.

He raised his chin and replied in Norwegian: "EgheiterGeralt, Fråsør."

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My name is Geralt, and I come from the south. There's no further south.

He shrugged, pulled the corner of his mouth to the side, and his expression was quite frank.

The giant's gaze lingered on Geralt's face for a moment, then he fell silent.

His face was mostly hidden in the shadows cast by his brow bone and cheekbone, with only his chin and lips illuminated by a small patch of light coming in from outside the door, his thick lips slightly pursed.

Geralt waited a moment, then switched to English, slowing down his speech, his amber pupils fixed on the pair of large, grey-green eyes above him.

"Good morning, I'm Geralt."

The giant's expression remained unchanged. His gaze shifted from Geralt's face to Pybian, then from Geralt's face to Gideon, then back to Geralt's face. The whole process was very slow.

Then he switched to English, with obvious gaps between each word, a heavy accent, and pronounced words from the back with deep vowels.

"You, come, why?"

Geralt's amber vertical pupils widened slightly, then closed again, and he blinked once more.

English, the chieftain of a tribe of giants in a deep mountain valley in Norway, speaks English.

The elite education he received in the Black family enabled him to read Latin and French texts fluently before the age of eleven. Later, he went to Germany, met Freya, and returned to learn German on his own.

He didn't spend any time specifically learning Norwegian because he didn't think it was necessary. He practiced a few greetings before coming to Norway, thinking that would be enough.

Regulus has always been confident in his linguistic talent; few can surpass him in his area of ​​expertise. Right now, this giant can speak at least two human languages, Norwegian and English, and perhaps more.

He knew that comparing his language talent with that of the giants was pointless; there was no point in even considering the comparison. But no matter what, he couldn't let the giants outdo him. He had to learn Norwegian when he got back.

"Geralt," Geralt said, pulling his expression back, tapping his chest, and tilting his head back slightly, "Fabian Prewett, Gideon Prewett."

The giant remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a slow, almost involuntary manner: "Hrothgar."

He said his name and pointed towards the door: "Hilde."

Geralt's heart skipped a beat.

Hrothgar, the name of the old Danish king in Beowulf, a classic of Old English literature.

Hilde is an ancient Norse name, one of the Valkyries in Norse mythology. This name appears in many Norse legends, in more than one version, and they all share the common feature of having a shield and a spear.

The leader of a giant tribe was named Heroga, and his guard was named Hilde. Neither of these names came from the giants' own language system. They came from human cultures, and from different times and regions: one was Anglo-Saxon England, and the other was Scandinavia.

Geralt was now even more certain that this tribe was not isolated; they had been in contact with the outside world for at least several generations, or even longer.

It takes a long enough time for a person to integrate their naming habits with external culture, for those names to be understood, adopted, and passed down.

If you only occasionally encounter one or two wizards or Muggles passing by, chat for a few words, and then leave, it's impossible for this kind of influence to be formed.

They consciously select things from external cultures and make them their own, which shows that they have cultural awareness and the ability to filter.

This means they have a concept of knowledge itself, knowing what is worth acquiring and what belongs to them that they need to protect.

Geralt withdrew the light from Herogane's face and placed it on his own shoes, blinked briefly, and then looked up again.

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