Chapter 19

"I'm sorry. I hear you were confined in the temple because of me?"

Those were the first words Turan heard when he visited Maysa's room. Faced with the noble young lady's apology, he took a moment to choose his words before offering the safest reply.

"It was necessary. More importantly, I'm glad you're all right."

Apologizing for making her overexert herself would only sound as though he were mocking her for failing at something he could do. Perhaps recognizing the calculation behind his answer, Maysa exclaimed as though something she had forgotten had just occurred to her.

"Oh! Speaking of which, that spell that makes animals rot. Are you sure it isn't some unknown bloodline magic? The mana cost was absurd."

"It isn't. Once you understand the principle, my lady, you'll be quite capable of using it too."

As they spoke, Turan's keen sense of smell picked up an unfamiliar scent. Something that mingled a somewhat altered, savory aroma with a sour stench...

'Did she throw up?'

The smell that came from accidentally cutting open an animal's stomach during slaughter lingered faintly around Maysa's mouth. He had distinctly heard that she did not eat, so why?

Turan started to say something, then realized how inappropriate his remark would be in several ways and held his tongue. If even he could barely smell it, she must have cleaned up thoroughly. Admitting he could detect it might make her suspect he had a bloodline specialized in scent.

While he was lost in thought, Maysa assumed he had fallen silent because he did not want to explain the spell's principles. She gave a little smile and probed him.

"So you can't tell me for free. But unless you explain how it works, I don't see how you can prove it isn't bloodline magic."

"I don't particularly mind if I didn't win."

They held each other's gaze in silence for a moment. Maysa surrendered first.

"Leaving it at this would bother me. If you tell me the secret of that spell, I'll teach you one of Arabion's secret techniques. Fair?"

"Agreed. Then—"

Turan explained that there were organisms too small to see, and that decay occurred when they consumed larger living things. He went on to explain that the spell worked by empowering those tiny organisms to accelerate the process. That alone seemed enough for Maysa to grasp the principle, and she exclaimed in realization.

"So... at its core, it was bio-enhancement magic?"

"Yes."

"No wonder. Using it without knowing that made it horribly inefficient. You there, could you catch me a mouse?"

The maid standing respectfully behind her repeated the request in alarm.

"A m-mouse...?"

"Yes. In a house this big, there must be one living somewhere."

A short while later, Maysa set down a mouse that had rotted away while still alive and nodded. The maid who had caught it looked ready to vomit at the sight, but neither Turan nor Maysa paid her any attention.

"Then I lost our contest. I did succeed at the end, but only by forcing it through with raw power."

"I considered that part of the wager too."

"It doesn't count. When people talk about skill with magic, they don't normally include mana reserves."

Then, looking suddenly embarrassed, she added,

"Um, could you tell Asiz it was a draw? I'd rather not see him getting smug about this."

"Of course."

"Then I owe you payment. Let's see... This should do."

Maysa picked up a comb beside her and ran it through her long hair several times. Then she lifted it sharply, showing him how her hair clung to it and rose.

"As you can see, when objects rub against each other like this, they start to attract one another. This is—"

"Frictional electricity."

Maysa's eyes widened at his answer.

"... You already knew?"

"Yes."

He had encountered that knowledge at the library while learning how lightning struck from clouds. The explanations about lightning occurring when positive and negative charges met had been too difficult for him to properly understand. Still, he at least knew that lightning originated from a force called electricity, and that friction could produce a similar phenomenon on a smaller scale.

To demonstrate, Turan rubbed his fingers together a few times, producing a small, crackling spark. Applying this principle, he could also cast an electrical spell that fired lightning directly, though it was weaker than lightning magic that called bolts down from the sky. It was still too unrefined for actual combat, so he had only been practicing it.

"Even this is one of our more profound secrets..."

Muttering that this posed a problem, Maysa let out a deep sigh.

"Could I have a little more time to think about how to repay you?"

"Certainly."

Turan did not tell her that repayment was unnecessary. One lesson he had learned since coming down from the hill was that if he gave someone knowledge, he ought to receive something in return.

After a brief silence, Maysa shook her head and made an unexpected suggestion.

"Then perhaps we could keep doing this together until I think of a suitable payment..."

"Practicing magic, you mean?"

"Yes. I think we could learn quite a lot from each other."

"I'd be happy to."

He had intended to keep up his daily magic training anyway. Competing with an accomplished wizard would certainly help keep him motivated.

"Then let's meet in the garden every day at sunset, starting tomorrow."

* * *

The day after his conversation with Maysa, Turan received an early-morning visitor. It was Haram, the noble of the guardian bloodline who had briefly practiced swordsmanship with him in the temple the day before.

"Sleep well?"

"Ah... yes. What brings you here?"

"Have you thought about what I said yesterday?"

Turan thought back over what Haram had said. Hadn't he suggested making time to train his body as well? When Turan mentioned this, Haram nodded and declared,

"Let's go."

"You mean to train?"

"Don't want to?"

After a moment's deliberation, Turan agreed and stepped outside. Asiz had suggested going to see another play today... but learning even one thing seemed more rewarding than amusing himself. He was about to call a servant over to cancel their plans when Asiz appeared down the corridor.

"Hey, Turan! I hear there's an absolutely incredible play today..."

Asiz's cheerful voice dwindled in an instant when he spotted Haram beside him.

"Ah, Asiz."

"H-hello, Uncle."

"Will you join us?"

"Pardon? No... I still haven't recovered from my trip, so..."

Though Haram had not even said what he was inviting him to, Asiz rambled out an excuse and slipped away the way he had come. Before long, Turan understood why he had reacted that way.

"One more."

"Hnng..."

"One last time."

In the eastern section of the Berg residence was a training ground enclosed by four buildings, filled with various pieces of equipment that appeared to be magic tools. They ranged from metal bars that grew heavier as more mana was poured into them to a space where one's body became immensely heavy the moment one stepped inside.

Haram made Turan repeat various movements there, working every muscle in his body to exhaustion. Normally, a noble's strength was never overwhelmed by the weight of his own body, but things were different here.

"That's enough."

At Haram's words, Turan withdrew the power he had been pouring into the bar, tossed it aside, and sprawled on his back. He could feel his sweat-soaked hair sticking to his face.

"Tired?"

"Yes..."

He felt even more exhausted than after fighting the Dark Elf wraith sorcerers. Back then, he had merely been in bad shape from being rammed and sent tumbling by the water buffalo wraith. This time, he had truly wrecked every muscle from his neck to his toes. At his answer, Haram gave a peculiar smile, barely lifting the corners of his mouth.

"At least you're a wizard. Be grateful you only need to do this once."

"Is it different for people who aren't wizards?"

"Normally, even after you've built up muscle, it wastes away again with time. You need to keep training to maintain it. But a wizard's mana keeps the body in peak condition, so once you've built yourself up, you won't grow weaker."

Then Haram pointed toward the sky and added,

"Besides, doesn't some exercise and fresh air feel good?"

"I suppose... it does."

Turan hesitated before agreeing. Lying sprawled there after sweating so thoroughly did fill him with a strange sense of exhilaration. It was much like reading a book—that sense of accomplishment, of becoming something a little better than he had been before...

For a while, Haram grumbled at the prone Turan about how all wizards—especially nobles—were fools for neglecting physical training when their bodies were so well suited to it. Then he rose and gave another order.

"You must be rested by now."

"No, not yet—"

"I know these things. You've rested enough. Now I'll teach you weapons and hand-to-hand combat."

After spending the morning in that hellish training session, Turan made his way to a small dining room on trembling legs and asked the servants to bring him food. Before long, Asiz appeared from who knew where and dropped into the seat opposite him.

"How on earth did Uncle Haram get his hands on you?"

"Well..."

When Turan explained how Haram had taught him the previous night, Asiz gave an incredulous laugh.

"You took the bait."

"The bait?"

"Uncle believes every noble should know how to fight up close. He got me with the same sort of trick when I was young."

Apparently, his usual routine was to demonstrate some impressive swordsmanship, tempt his audience with the suggestion that they might like to try it themselves, then drag them to the training ground and work them to exhaustion. Asiz said that after Haram had dragged him off to suffer through it in his youth—when he was twenty-five—he had refused to go anywhere near the man whenever he suggested training.

"But he said building yourself up just once does a lot of good."

"It's still too hard! I'd rather practice magic. You're a guest anyway. Just tell him you want to stop."

Turan hesitated at the suggestion, then shook his head.

"No, I think I'll give it a little longer."

Though Turan had never trained his body beyond walking, running, and slinging stones, he could instinctively tell that Haram's teaching was quite systematic. Besides, the place was full of training equipment crafted by House Berg's own Enchanters. He did not want to miss the chance to make use of such things.

"Why don't you join me?"

"Me? I'm too old for that now..."

Asiz, who looked no older than his early twenties, gave a sheepish smile.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Turan's days could hardly have been more fulfilling. He rose early each morning to train his body with Haram. After thoroughly grinding down every muscle, he replenished himself with a nutritious lunch, then relaxed in the afternoon by going into town with Asiz to see a play or read at the library—nothing like the library in Orem City, of course.

At sunset, he returned to the residence to practice magic with Maysa, growing quite close to her in the process. By the end of three weeks, they were addressing each other warmly by name. It was a remarkable change, considering she had not even remembered his name properly when they first met.

"Not going well, Turan?"

"I'm not an Arabion, after all."

At Maysa's teasing tone, Turan scratched his chin and looked over the scorch marks covering the wall before him. They were traces of Thunderbolt, a spell that fired electricity generated by rubbing his fingers together at an opponent.

His current task was to hit his target accurately, but two or three shots out of ten still struck around the bull's-eye rather than in its center. This was less a matter of his lack of skill than lightning magic's inherent tendency to miss its mark. Overcoming it required either fully understanding how lightning traveled and meeting those conditions, or improving his proficiency.

"I'm afraid I can't help much. I've never even thought about aiming lightning magic."

Born with the Storm Bloodline, she could naturally control lightning, which actually left her unable to advise Turan through his trial and error. How could someone who had run since birth teach someone still crawling how to walk?

"I'll just have to keep at it."

As he let out a deep sigh, Turan remembered that his magic tool would be finished in another week or so. And that he would have to leave around then.

'... Somehow, I don't want to leave.'

It would be no exaggeration to call his time at House Berg the happiest of his life. As befitted the seat of a great house, the standard of living went without saying. He also had a teacher and a partner to help him hone both his body and his magic, and a friend with whom he could enjoy his hobbies.

But he could not stay here forever. He was only a guest, after all. There might be no danger of discovery now, but there was no guarantee he could conceal his true identity for the rest of his life...

"There you are, Lady Maysa!"

An unfamiliar voice rang through the garden as Turan was lost in thought. For some reason, a stranger in his early twenties was looking at him with an oddly hostile expression.

"My lady, who is this man...?"

"None of your business. More importantly, what are you doing here? I said I would be recuperating for a while, and told everyone from the main house to stay away."

Maysa's manner toward the man, who appeared to belong to House Arabion, was icy. Hostile, even. He trembled briefly, then bowed his head deeply.

"The House Head has summoned you, my lady."

"What for?"

"Well..."

The man glanced at Turan, as though telling him to clear off because they had important matters to discuss. Before Turan could react, however, Maysa pressed him sharply.

"Answer me. If this is for some trivial reason, you'd better be prepared for the consequences."

Her menacing manner suggested she would blast him with magic if he hesitated a moment longer, and he answered hurriedly. Even Turan, listening quietly beside them, was startled by what he said.

"The Dark Elves have reportedly launched a major offensive in the south! Three cities have already fallen, so an expeditionary force is being assembled..."