Chapter 21

Even after Maysa and the Dark Elf subjugation force departed, Turan's daily life changed little. He conditioned his body with Haram, learned weapons and hand-to-hand combat, rested, practiced magic... The only difference was that he now had one less friend to practice magic with in the evenings. Those hours felt a little lonelier, that was all.

Four weeks and two days into his stay with House Berg, Asiz's older brother Melo handed Turan an item in a workshop on the residence's highest floor, where all manner of magic tools stood in disarray. Having spent the past month shut away making it, he looked drawn.

"Here you are."

The magic tool was a bracelet made of several long, thin leather cords woven together like a braid, then encased in a layer of dull blue metal. Apparently, the metal came only from a certain mountainous region in the east and held magical power more readily than other materials.

"Simply wearing it will make your body a little more durable. Infusing it with mana increases that effect. At its full potential, it will put you on a similar level to a noble of the guardian bloodline, but the mana consumption is considerable, so I wouldn't recommend maintaining it for long."

"This... truly is an extraordinary treasure."

Considering that magic tools reproducing bloodline abilities generally came with restrictions such as a limited number of uses per day, its capabilities were truly impressive. At Turan's exclamation, Melo smiled proudly.

"I doubt even the great houses have many items of this caliber. It turned out exceptionally well."

The maker's skill and the time invested were the decisive factors in crafting a magic tool, but even with the same skill and time, the quality of the result varied. Melo repeatedly stressed that this was a masterpiece of the sort normally presented to someone as eminent as Arabion's House Head. After boasting about his creation, he added one last remark.

"Asiz may be a dim-witted fool, but he's still my little brother. I couldn't offer anything paltry in return for saving him."

Turan had thought him cold, his first impression having been of Melo disparaging Asiz, but it seemed he, too, was a loving older brother. After accepting the magic tool and thanking him, Turan went to see Midella, the Head of House Berg.

As expected, when Turan said his farewells, she offered him a formal place in the house.

"I'm truly grateful for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't accept."

"As I thought..."

Unexpectedly, Midella gave up at once rather than pressing him repeatedly. Her next words explained why.

"Asiz has already spoken to me, actually. He said you have too much to do to settle down here. Please consider my asking despite knowing the answer an old woman's reluctance to let go."

It seemed Asiz had given his House Head advance warning. Turan bowed respectfully in thanks.

"I won't forget your hospitality, my lady. Asiz and House Berg will always be my friends."

"Then that will be enough."

Though she had known what to expect, a faint disappointment lingered on Midella's face, as if the knowledge had not entirely spared her the bitterness.

When the meeting ended, other members of House Berg were waiting for him, particularly those he had grown close to.

"Take this."

Without preamble, Haram handed him a dagger. It was a practical size, convenient to carry as an everyday tool yet suitable for use as a weapon when needed.

"It's a magic tool. Nothing fancy, but it's sturdy and holds a good edge."

Strictly speaking, it was only a little better than the magic lamps scattered throughout the Berg residence, hardly valuable as magic tools went. Still, it was an extravagant treasure to give a pupil he had taught for only a few weeks.

"... Thank you."

Turan knew why Haram was going to such lengths for him. Among nobles who mostly disdained physical combat, Turan had faithfully absorbed the teachings Haram had pursued all his life. As a final mark of respect, Turan addressed him by a title he did not normally use.

"Master."

Haram's lips twitched once before he turned his head and walked away. Perhaps he did not want Turan to see him struggling to compose his expression.

Next, Asiz grinned and held out a neatly prepared shirt, a pair of trousers, and a cloak. Made from sturdy fabric without any cumbersome ornamentation, they looked comfortable to wear.

"What's this?"

"Didn't you say you envied my clothes? I've been working on these whenever I had time. They don't get dirty easily, and small tears mend themselves."

Only then did Turan understand what Asiz had meant a few days earlier when he said he was glad he had made it bigger. Given how often they had gone out to see plays together in the afternoons, he must have worked on these in spare moments during the mornings and evenings. Thinking of the care that had gone into them, Turan struggled even to voice his thanks.

"Asiz..."

"You're a good friend, Turan. Not just because you saved my life. Living alongside you and seeing how you live has given me a lot to think about."

Asiz spoke candidly to Turan. He admitted that at first he had secretly envied Turan's extraordinary talent, but had come to admire how, despite that talent, Turan never wasted time and constantly worked to improve himself. It had made him realize how lazily he had been living. Starting with these clothes, he intended to devote himself earnestly to practicing the craft of making magic tools again.

"And once the Dark Elf situation settles down, I'll go on pilgrimage again, too. Somewhere a little safer."

Turan nodded and mentioned another friend of Asiz's.

"Don't forget to take tilly when you set out again."

"Of course!"

The horse monster tilly was as intelligent as most people and strong enough to contend with a noble. Unless another extreme situation like the last arose, Asiz was unlikely to find himself in danger.

"So, where are you heading now?"

"East, to start with."

"Karmine?"

"Yes."

Due east of the Dakayn Plains lay a port city ruled by House Karmine. Though smaller than Arabion or Zahar, it was a great house with a long history and considerable underlying strength, famous for its bloodline ability to command water and ice.

"I went there once, a long time ago. Stay off boats if you can. I tried one out of curiosity, and those waves were fucking awful."

Turan chuckled at Asiz's warning and shook his head. Unfortunately, he would have to board a ship and brave those waves. His destination was the Enril Desert, Zahar territory a long voyage to the southeast.

"Well, you're not a child—actually, you are in years, but you're more grown-up than I am, so I'm sure you'll manage. Stay safe. Don't die."

"I won't."

Turan embraced Asiz one last time before walking out of the residence. It really was time to leave the cradle behind.

* * *

Leaving Zavillin, Turan felt the cold autumn wind brush around his face. The wheat fields that had once spread golden across the Dakayn Plains had been harvested, leaving only stubble. It had been late summer when he first ventured down into the world, and now winter was already at hand.

Running east, Turan used the breathing technique Haram had taught him for long-distance running. Two deep breaths out, then two in, timed to his strides. The strength of his far thicker thighs propelled him forward as though the ground were sliding backward of its own accord.

His speed was such that only Arabion nobles capable of flight, or those with comparable movement abilities in their bloodlines, could hope to catch him. Travelers crossing the plains and patrols of wizards spotted him, but could not even attempt to keep pace and ask who he was.

He ran for half a day, rested briefly, then ran again. Only in the evening did he stop and cook a porridge by simmering the hardtack, jerky, and a few dried vegetables he had packed. He had worried that he might have grown too accustomed to fine food, but fortunately, his first travel meal in some time tasted quite acceptable.

Once he had eaten his fill, he lay down in the middle of the plains and pulled his cloak over himself. For some reason, he laughed. It had struck him that, just as when he first descended the hill, he was alone again, without a single home to stay in.

But there was one difference: his heart was no longer as empty as it had been then. The new friends he had made, the teachers who had taught him so much... They alone had made coming down into the world worthwhile.

Two days passed in this rhythm of running by day and resting at night. At last, the plains under Arabion's rule ended, and several uneven mountain peaks came into view, densely covered in forest. Like the region where he had encountered the Dark Elves, this land lay within Arabion's sphere of influence but not under its formal rule.

First, Turan activated the Search magic he had all but sealed away since entering Arabion territory and looked for monsters. Wolves, deer, wildcats, raccoon dogs... He searched for traces of specimens vastly larger than their fellows among all sorts of animals. Within minutes, he found a target.

'A wild boar.'

Following its trail, he found the monster pacing about and snorting, furious for some reason. Its tusks were unusually long; perhaps it specialized in impaling things with them. When he shouted, "Hey!" it whipped its head around and charged in a rage.

[SQUEEEEAL!]

Turan watched the charging boar carefully, then used magic to accelerate his thoughts. In an instant, the world slowed.

A single well-timed step took him out of its path. From the side, he drove his dagger in with precision, and the boar collapsed on the spot, its brain gouged through.

'So this is what it feels like.'

He had never realized it while sparring with Haram, when he was always on the receiving end of a one-sided beating, but hunting with his own body was quite enjoyable. Of course, this boar was weak enough that he could have killed it with a single slung stone.

He would need money for his passage anyway, so after absorbing the dead boar's mana—it was small fry, as expected—Turan butchered and skinned it. If he took the time to have a tanner treat the hide, or even simply sold it as it was, it should fetch a reasonable sum.

"Ugh."

What he had not anticipated was that the flayed hide would be as bulky as a person, making it awkward to carry. He had ample strength, but still needed both hands to balance it, and its sheer size annoyingly blocked his view.

Instead of selling it upon reaching the port city as originally planned, Turan stopped at a fairly large village nearby and sold it straightaway. Selling a hide so obviously taken from a monster caused something of a stir, but he eventually rid himself of the cumbersome burden and came away with twenty gold coins.

Unburdened, he ran for another two full days, passing two cities. Just as he was thinking that House Karmine's territory could not be far off, his nose caught an unfamiliar smell.

'Hm?'

The first scent he detected was that of ashes left by a fire. On its own, he could have dismissed it as a passing traveler's campfire, but the smell was far too strong. If this was a campfire, he could have believed it had burned dozens of trees.

The stench of burned animals mingled with that of vegetation, making him wonder if there had been a forest fire. But as he approached, something more horrifying than he had imagined awaited him.

"What..."

Within a half-burned, collapsed palisade lay the ruins of what might have been any ordinary village. Had a monster attacked it?

Once inside, he realized that was not the case. In the village's central square lay charred corpses, still tightly bound. This was unmistakably the work of humans, or a race of comparable intelligence, acting with malice.

'I haven't heard anything about Dark Elves advancing this far.'

If they had, Asiz would surely have warned him, knowing he intended to head east. As Turan wondered how to deal with this devastation, he detected the scent of a living person through the stench. Sweat, tears, urine...

'Here?'

Following the scent into one of the half-burned log cabins, Turan found a trapdoor hidden beneath a table. When he tore the barred door open by force—

"Aaaaaah!"

He saw a girl scrambling backward with an ear-splitting scream. She could hardly have been more than eight or nine. Her clothes were filthy, and pale tear tracks stood out clearly beneath her soot-darkened eyes.

"Calm down. I'm not your enemy. I've come to help."

After Turan repeated those words several times, the trembling girl asked, breathing hard,

"Really...?"

"Yes. Do you know what happened to this village?"

"Th-they're all dead. That wizard—"

"Wizard?"

"Yes..."

With that, the girl slumped forward. Perhaps being trapped in this cellar for so long had exhausted her in body and mind. Cradling her carefully, Turan climbed out of the cellar. For now, he could give her a good meal and let her rest, then take her to another nearby village...

"Found him!"

Four people, men and women, stood in a semicircle around the cabin's entrance. A woman who appeared to be their leader held a bow of pure white ice, an arrow trained on Turan as she spoke.

"On your knees, you murderous bastard!"