Chapter 136

After the conversation had been settled to some extent, Turan took Mago and left the nameless nomadic tribe.

The tribe members lamented the fact that the shaman who had protected them and healed all kinds of wounds and diseases was now leaving.

“You are leaving like this?”

“We haven’t even repaid all the grace we received from you, Shaman. Please, stay with us a little longer.”

Seeing this, Mago glanced around nervously, as if he was worried that Turan might mercilessly slaughter these rude commoners who dared to block the path of a noble.

Of course, Turan had no such intention, and he simply stood still and gave a slight glance, signaling Mago to take care of it on his own.

“Now, now, everyone calm down. Once this matter is finished and if I still have my life, I will return here.”

“Ohh, is that true!”

“We believed in you, O Healing Hands!”

Once the matters here were resolved, he would have to return to Siraf Wetland, so perhaps he had just made a promise he could not keep.

Though he thought so inwardly, Turan did not bother to challenge it in front of everyone.

After all, they were making way for him.

And so, on the road out of the tribe, receiving everyone’s warm farewell.

Turan turned to Mago, who was walking a little behind him, and asked,

"That promise just now, did you truly mean it?"

“Eh? Ah, of course. Once this matter is over, I’m even thinking of staying here permanently for the rest of my life.”

With a half-resigned expression, Mago explained how he had ended up staying with this tribe.

While wandering in search of the traitor from Lavitas, he got caught up in a fight, lost his companions, and ended up battered and broken. It was these tribe members who rescued him and nursed him back to health with utmost care.

“That’s a little different from what I heard. My friend told me that the people of the grasslands indulge in murder and rape as casually as eating a meal, essentially no different from beastmen wearing human skins.”

“There are certainly such people. But aren’t there also many villains among the northern continent’s people? The people here simply haven’t learned how to live rightly. Among them, those like the tribe we just left, who own fertile land and wealth, even treat and care for vagrants of unknown origin.”

There was a strange reverence in the softly murmured voice.

As they continued talking on this subject, Turan learned an amusing fact: the small tribe he had first saved was actually a raiding group.

Just recently, they had tried to attack the tribe they had now left, only to be beaten back by Mago.

“Huh...”

Turan recalled the people who had bowed to him.

That flock of utterly powerless sheep had acted like ferocious wolves to other sheep?

“I suppose I’ll have to deal with them when the time comes.”

“Are you referring to them?”

“Yes. If those bastards rob anyone else, that’s on me.”

Hadn’t Keorn once said?

If you show mercy to one roadside bandit, it will cost the lives of ten good people, so if the chance comes, kill without hesitation.

Moreover, seeing that they were pleased by Turan’s poor condition and even recommended a tribe that was practically an enemy, it was hard to think their intentions were good.

Given the hostility toward outsiders, they had probably hoped for some kind of conflict.

Mago, hearing this, spoke with a slightly flustered look.

“Is there really a need for you to go through that trouble?”

“It won’t be much trouble.”

“I suppose not.”

Mago had no doubt that the young noble before him could crush a small tribe with a mere wave of his hand.

The overwhelming aftershock of magical power he had felt earlier still made his body tremble.

That kind of power was something only the elders of noble houses possessed, those whom low-ranking nobles like Mago could not even dare to meet eyes with.

He could only be grateful that someone of Turan’s stature was even speaking to him politely, as a fellow noble.

“What I meant to say is that there's no need for you to add to your burdens with such matters."

"Is removing a wolf that preys on sheep really considered a burden?"

To harm innocent humans is not the act of a sheep, but that of a wolf.

Facing Turan's rock-solid values, Mago spoke in a calm tone.

“As I just mentioned, whether the tribes of this land are good or evil is simply a matter of whether they have food to fill their bellies or not, and whether they can survive without resorting to pillaging. If they go hungry, they become wolves; if they are full, they become sheep.”

He went on to explain that killing those who became wolves out of hunger would only allow the sheep to increase in number, and eventually, with food shortages, some of them would become wolves again. It was an endlessly repeating cycle.

Turan quietly listened to Mago's words.

They directly contradicted the values he had built up while growing up, but there was something strangely resonant about what he was hearing, it was not something he could simply dismiss as nonsense.

“......What I’m trying to say is, the concept of good and evil is more complex and harder to judge than one might think. Of course, if someone is simply a villain who enjoys tormenting others, as you said, cutting them off is the right answer. But determining that is not always easy, so we need to be more cautious when exercising power.”

After saying this, Mago cautiously glanced at Turan, as if checking whether he had angered him.

In response, Turan smiled gently and nodded.

“I still find it hard to fully understand... but I feel like I’ve learned something. Thank you for your thoughtful words.”

“I hope I wasn’t being presumptuous in saying them.”

“Not at all. Ah, my name is Turan.”

The reason he revealed the real name he had kept hidden was because he felt that this middle-aged man before him was someone worthy of respect.

Not only was he a shepherd who cherished his sheep.

His perspective, that one should not simply cut down raiders like weeds but delve into the reasons behind their actions, contained a depth Turan had never considered before.

Of course, there were still many parts he could not entirely agree with.

Perhaps sensing Turan’s friendliness from his words, a faint smile appeared on Mago’s slightly tense face.

“So you’re Turan-nim. I suppose you’re not affiliated with Lavitas...?”

“I belong to the Zahar Bloodline. Though I am not affiliated with that house.”

“Ah.”

Sensing some complex family matters, Mago refrained from pressing further and maintained a reserved attitude.

Turan then asked something that had been on his mind earlier.

“But settling here after leaving your house... that’s not something so easily done, is it? More than anything, I doubt Lavitas would ever allow it.”

Even among ordinary wizard families, a noble was too precious to be let go so easily. And in this regard, the great noble houses were even more severe.

Their purpose was to prevent their superior and rare mixed bloodlines from being stolen by others.

Bluntly speaking, what if Mago remained here, and then a great house appeared, kidnapped him, and forced him to produce offspring to mass-produce Lavitas-blooded wizards?

Such bloodline thefts were strictly forbidden, but the fact that something was prohibited usually meant that someone was trying it.

When Turan voiced this concern aloud, Mago let out a chuckle and replied.

“Turan-nim, you are someone close enough to the house to be entrusted with retrieving Sacred Relics, so I’m sure it’s safe to tell you. It's also a well-known story among those who know... Among Lavitas's Sacred Relics, there is one with the power to block reproductive ability. Once it’s used, until it is released, no matter what method is attempted, children cannot be conceived.”

At this astonishing story, Turan widened his eyes.

"Such a thing exists?"

“Yes. Of course, I’ve never used it myself, but as far as I know, anyone can receive it if they so wish.”

Mago even added a slightly mischievous comment that, despite this, it didn’t render one incapable of sexual activity.

*

Now that he had already revealed his name, there was no longer any need to hide Bije. After moving to a place where no one else was in sight, Turan brought out Bije and enlarged her to full size.

Seeing the giant golden eagle Magical Beast, Mago’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“What in the world… To hide a Magical Beast inside your body and then shrink or enlarge it like this, I’ve truly never seen anything like it in my life.”

“Please don’t go telling anyone about this.”

At Turan’s warning, Mago nodded solemnly.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly a secret worth keeping anymore, since the members of the Berk family who had arrived in Kalamaf had already seen it and spread the word.

The vast grasslands here weren’t quite as vast as the Enril Desert, but they were still expansive enough that the two of them had to fly eastward for nearly an entire day before reaching their destination.

It was an area where a notably large river flowed through this barren grassland region, with fairly tall grass growing.

Surveying the area, Mago let out a faint groan as he spoke.

“This is the base of the Golden Fleece Tribe. Though now, several other tribes have gathered here as well…”

It seemed the talk of war hadn’t been an exaggeration, before long, corpses began to appear, clearly killed by human hands.

Apparently desperate for even a scrap of clothing, the attackers had stripped the bodies completely bare, even removing every spear, sword, and arrow.

“Tch.”

Despite having gained much insight from Mago's words earlier, such sights were truly unpleasant, even taking those considerations into account.

Perhaps understanding this discomfort, Mago did not try to excuse what had happened.

As Turan looked down at the corpses for a while, he suddenly realized something.

“These bodies… Most of them weren’t killed by wizards, but by ordinary people.”

Wounds from spears, swords, arrows, cuts and stabs that were all far too shallow to have come from knights or nobles.

According to what he had heard, only tribes with wizards, or as they called them, shamans, should be able to enter this area.

“Yes. One of the ancient customs here is that if two tribes have shamans, then the shamans battle each other, while those without such power fight amongst themselves. In that kind of situation, it’s considered dishonorable for shamans who have hands to spare to harm ordinary people.”

Even here, there seemed to be a sense of honor, in their own way.

Though it was difficult to relate to their method.

When Turan had first arrived, he had thought of the grassland people as little more than a breeding-capable different race. Yet now, he was beginning to see them as people with simply different cultures.

He had traveled all over the world and thought there was nothing left for him to learn, but he now realized, there are many things one can only understand through direct interaction with others.

After surveying the area for a bit, Turan used mind control on a roaming horse and handed it to Mago.

Then, bowing his head slightly, he bid farewell.

“Well then, travel safely.”

“Yes, Turan-nim… I shall pray to the Earth Mother Goddess that you may complete your mission safely.”

Mago’s role ended here.

Having already been badly injured while trying to penetrate deeper into this region, he no longer had any further information to offer. On the contrary, Turan would now have to go out of his way to protect him.

Knowing this, Mago chose to return willingly instead of stubbornly insisting on helping.

Though the journey back, traveling on horseback, would take at least a week, far longer than the single day they had flown to get here, he had prepared food and water in advance, so enduring it shouldn’t be too difficult.

After seeing Mago off, Turan mounted the mind-controlled horse and immediately cast Tracking Magic targeting humans.

A thick scent drifted from all directions.

With Bije now invisible, he soared into the sky and began flying over the area, visiting each tribe gathered in this region one by one to observe them.

"There really are so many..."

Though he had heard that the total number of people living in this vast grassland didn’t even reach several hundred thousand, every few kilometers he encountered tribes numbering in the thousands.

Considering the amount of grass consumed by the sheep and cows they brought along, it seemed inevitable that even the most fertile region would quickly be depleted.

As Turan moved along, he checked the flags mounted on or carried along with the tents of each tribe that caught his eye.

‘Horned buffalo, wolf, snake, lion...’

Unlike the grassland's outer regions where the Preah faith was dominant, in this area, both ordinary people and wizards mainly believed in a primitive animal-worshipping religion.

Among them, there were even those who revered specific Magical Beasts.

The tribe they had just passed bore the emblem of what looked like a golden eagle on their flag. Perhaps they revered Bije as a sacred bird.

After passing through a dozen or so tribes, Turan finally saw flags embroidered with the symbol of golden fleece.

-Found it.

It was Bije, with her keen eyesight, who first discovered it.

She seemed to treat finding the correct flag symbol as a game and was even more enthusiastic than Turan.

The Golden Fleece Tribe’s numbers weren’t exactly clear, but they likely exceeded 10,000.

Among the tribes gathered here, they were the largest, on par with an entire city on the move.

Turan maintained his Concealment as he landed amid the tents of the Golden Fleece Tribe.

The strong scent of animals, typical of nomads, made his nose dizzy for a moment, but he soon adjusted.

Activating his Sacred Relic’s detection sense, he could feel the presence of nobles with high-ranking magical power before long.

There were no fewer than eleven of them.

'Wait, I thought wizards were rare in the plains... but this many is more than you'd find scraping together all the wizard families in the Gray Zone.'

If a single tribe had this much power, wouldn’t they be able to fight even the House Varaha if they joined forces?

That thought didn’t last long, though. When Turan arrived at the gathering of high-ranking nobles, he realized he had been mistaken.

The unusually large number of high-ranking nobles were not from the Golden Fleece Tribe, but from rival tribes in opposition to them.

A conference was underway to mediate conflicts with other nearby tribes, and powerful nobles had gathered for it.

"This is outrageous! That bastard slaughtered our tribe, down to the children! And the price for that is a hundred and fifty sheep!?”

"They were just ordinary children, not shamans. I think that's already a generous offer."

The person who had been crying out about children being massacred trembled violently at the casual remark from someone presumed to be from the Golden Fleece tribe.

Turan focused briefly on their exchange, then quickly turned his attention to his actual target.

Perhaps because he was an outsider, the man wasn’t participating in the conference like the others; instead, he was holding his lover in his arms.

'Moroz Lavitas... judging by his face and bloodline, it's definitely him.'

Moroz was a young man with a rather irritable and sensitive impression.

Of course, he only looked young because of his Lavitas Bloodline, his actual age was over 240.

The female knight in his arms had a pretty face befitting someone with a powerful noble lover, and the necklace hanging on her chest emanated immense power.

That was likely the Sacred Relic.

Not long after, the conference dispersed, and Moroz entered a large tent that seemed to have been assigned to him.

Naturally, Turan followed under Concealment, acting like he was part of their group.

“Seriously, what’s with these bumpkins? Why do they keep calling me for such trivial matters? It’s already a pain just being asked to heal someone.”

“Isn’t that the burden of someone in a high position?”

The woman appeased Moroz’s irritable tone with a voice that was both firm and gentle.

After a moment of kissing, Moroz spoke again, now a little more relaxed.

“Well, I suppose being stuck in this countryside leaves me with no choice… But as long as I have you, Basha.”

"Lord Moroz."

Watching the two of them act so tenderly, one would never guess they were criminals who had stolen a Sacred Relic from their own house and even murdered the Chasers sent to retrieve it.

Then again, Turan had only just learned yesterday that evil does not always look evil.

Naturally, what followed their sweet romance was an even more intimate affair.

From the bed beside the tent, Turan watched in silence, until he drew the sword he had been carrying.

It was a magic artifact created by the Enchanter Melo as a token of gratitude for saving him during his recent stay in Kalamaf.

Although not as good as what Meisa had made, unlike her who always had to be prepared for battle, this one could project its full power, so its quality was not bad.

The assassination sword, specialized in piercing through all defensive abilities of its target, drove through the two intertwined bodies.