Chapter 24

Even under continued questioning and torture, Orville only rambled, yielding no meaningful information. Asked which god had taught him, he repeated, "It was a god." Asked who else was like him, he answered, "I've seen several."

Either he was not in his right mind, or he was pretending while looking for a chance to escape. Turan thought the latter more likely. Had he truly lost his senses, he would have instinctively used mana to try to undo the vines and died at Turan's hands.

Either way, there was no reason to keep him alive any longer, and maintaining the restraints had already consumed a great deal of mana. After briefly exchanging gestures with Bisen to confirm their agreement, Turan killed Orville by cutting his throat with his dagger. Gil, the youngest of Bisen's companions, grimaced at the sight.

"Ugh..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just..."

He muttered that tying up and killing someone who could not resist felt uncomfortably like slaughtering livestock. Bisen sighed and rebuked him.

"Stop talking nonsense. One wrong move and we could all have died here, and you feel sorry for him? Besides, think how many people he killed. Even dragging him back alive to suffer more wouldn't be enough!"

"Though that would be difficult with a noble of his skill."

That addition came from Kebek, the healer. As he said, there were few ways to subdue a wizard who went berserk in the certainty of death, especially a noble. Even with their eyes and hands restrained, they could conjure flames anywhere and send them shooting in every direction.

Preventing that required either a mana-suppressing magic tool, which was exceedingly rare, or direct restraint by a noble several levels more powerful. Repeatedly knocking the captive unconscious with electrical spells or physical blows was another option.

That was why Turan had gone to the trouble of restraining Orville instead of simply crippling him. He had expected that maiming him outright would make him believe he had no chance of survival and lash out rather than answer questions.

While Bisen's companions talked, Turan wiped the blood from his dagger and opened the notebook he had picked up beside the bedding earlier. It contained a map of the surrounding area, plans for attacks, and detailed records of the number of people killed.

Apparently, Orville had wanted to keep track of how many people he had killed and how far he was from his goal. The notebook would serve as evidence that he was the Burner. If that proved insufficient, they could call the girl rescued from the village as a witness.

The back of the notebook also contained several mysterious formulas. Judging by the names of plants and minerals listed, they were probably recipes for the solutions in the corner of the chamber.

When Turan had asked Orville about them, the only answer had once again been, "The god taught me." Hoping they might provide a clue to that "god's" identity, Turan committed the notebook's contents to memory. As he finished reading and put it in his pocket, Bisen approached.

"Then, shall we..."

"Let's absorb it."

Turan, Bisen, Gil, and Asha gathered around the dead Burner's body. Kebek alone stepped back with a regretful sigh. When the four extended their hands, a pale green radiance began flowing from Orville's body.

Before long, Turan felt the power coursing through him transform his body. A stronger physique, sharper senses, greater mana...

Once the absorption was complete, they gathered the Burner's severed head, his robe, and other items that might serve as evidence, then left the cave.

The Burner had operated mainly on the outskirts of a city called Marov, so the following morning, Turan and Bisen's party visited its city hall to claim the bounty. The officials panicked at the sudden arrival of so many nobles, and before long, the lord himself came out to welcome them.

"Congratulations, Miss Bisen. A new star has risen in House Karmine."

"You flatter me."

Amusingly enough, once they arrived, they barely needed any evidence of Orville's identity. Marov's lord had no desire to quibble with a wizard from a nearby great house. Perhaps he had even calculated that if their captive proved to be a false Burner and another incident occurred, he could use it to put them in his debt instead.

After spending a day as guests of Marov, they received a bounty totaling fifteen hundred gold coins. Having agreed to split the bounty equally now that he was receiving a share of the mana, Turan had originally been due three hundred coins. In the end, however, they adjusted the division and gave him half the total: seven hundred and fifty. Turan had effectively done almost all the fighting, but the final shares also accounted for Asha's tracking and Bisen's name helping them collect the bounty.

'This is far too full...'

The problem was the bulk and weight of those seven hundred and fifty gold coins. Turan had long since discarded the old sheepskin bag he had used when he first descended the hill. His current bag, purchased from a shop in Zavillin, was made from the hide of a bovine monster.

But however good a bag might be, it could hardly hold more than its size allowed. At this rate, he would have to find somewhere to spend the gold or hire someone to carry his luggage. Surely even the journey to the Enril Desert would not cost this much.

"We're planning to wander a little longer and hunt some monsters. What about you, Master Turan?"

"I intend to head straight to Abacha."

"Oh..."

At Turan's refusal, Bisen's companions showed a rather contradictory mixture of disappointment and relief. Having him along would make hunting much safer and easier, but it would mean one of the four had to forgo their mana share.

Before they parted, Bisen approached and spoke quietly.

"As I mentioned yesterday, about what that man told us..."

"Yes. I won't go spreading it around."

On the way to the city, Turan and Bisen's party had agreed to keep the Burner's claims secret. Whether true or false, they felt the story could throw society into far too much turmoil.

Turan had not explained all his suspicions to her. They were not close enough for that, and he himself had no idea how to explain those strange eyes. "An eerily clear gaze" was the only description he could think of, but plenty of people in the world had clear eyes.

In any case, investigating the matter now would be difficult. He already had his hands full simply making the journey to learn about his own birth. After one last look at the band of runaway nobles heading west, Turan turned east toward his own destination.

* * *

As he traveled east with his now-heavy bag on his back, Turan began to notice moisture in the wind blowing against his face. It carried an unfamiliar fishy, salty smell as well.

'Fire magic will be difficult to use here.'

As expected, when he conjured a flame above his palm, he found that everything from its heat to its mana consumption had worsened. In exchange, conjuring water from thin air and freezing it had become astonishingly easy.

He had also heard that the skies over the North Sea were often cloudy, so he devoted a little more practice to lightning spells that called bolts down from the sky. In the process, he unintentionally terrified several groups coming the other way.

Turan finally stopped when a world of brilliant blue water spread before him. The North Sea, the vast body of water known as the ceiling of the world, had come into view.

"Oh..."

He had seen illustrations in books, but seeing the sea in person made him realize they had not captured even half its beauty. What a sight it was, the radiance of the sun high overhead breaking across the water.

After standing entranced by the sea for a long while, Turan came to his senses and walked along the shore. Before long, he saw a vast peninsula jutting eastward and a harbor lined with dozens of sailing ships. He had reached Abacha, House Karmine's stronghold and the largest port city on the North Sea.

"Get that unloaded! Move!"

"Yes, sir! Right away!"

"You half-witted bastard! I said unload it quickly, not carelessly! Drop that and break it, and I'll fucking kill you!"

Abacha's harbor could only be described as seething with energy. Though early winter was drawing near, sailors stripped to the waist carried cargo while dripping sweat. Whatever their hurry was, curses and shouts rang out from every direction.

Wandering farther, Turan saw an enormous fish hanging from the side of a sailing ship. Several shafts protruded from its body, suggesting it had been harpooned. It was probably a fish that had transformed into a monster. Books said sea monsters were far larger than those born from land animals, and clearly they were right.

Leaving the harbor and its hard-working sailors behind, he spotted a relatively quiet fruit stall. Perhaps because this was a trading port, it offered an assortment of fruits he had never seen before.

"Welcome! What can I get you?"

"A handful of those, please."

Remembering his time in Murei, Turan chose a small brown fruit. As the fruit seller scooped up the unfamiliar produce, he quoted a full silver coin.

"That's too expensive."

"These are dates. They only grow in the Enril Desert, far away. Naturally, anything brought here by ship costs more."

The fruit seller must have recognized him as an outsider at a glance, for he wrapped the goods with a glib sales pitch. Turan was hardly in a position to haggle over a silver coin or two anyway. He paid with one of the silver coins he had earned hunting the monster in Murei, adding two copper coins because it was smaller than the local currency. Having bought the dates, he asked a question.

"As it happens, I'd like to visit Enril. Where should I inquire about passage?"

"A ship to Enril? Nearly everything on that route is a merchant ship... You'll have to ask the captains directly. Still, you probably won't have much luck."

Whether he was simply kind or pleased to have sold the dates, the fruit seller gave a fairly detailed explanation. Merchant ships generally filled their holds to capacity and had no room for passengers. Taking someone aboard meant sacrificing cargo space, so the fare would be expensive.

"Where can I meet the captains?"

"Well, that I couldn't say. They're probably all busy during the day. Try asking sailors at a tavern this evening."

"Thank you for the advice."

Leaving the stall, Turan spent some time sightseeing around Abacha. Along the way, he found a decent theater and watched a play. By the time it ended, dusk had fallen.

'Time to go.'

As the sun set and other shops closed, the taverns around the harbor lit their lamps and welcomed sailors, announcing their presence with a boisterous din.

Turan chose one that looked fairly respectable and clean. Though not as grand as the noble residences he had visited, its furnishings were quite fine. Both the staff and patrons were neatly dressed, making it clear that the establishment catered to higher-ranking sailors.

"Welcome, sir."

Turan took an empty seat, ordered a glass of wine and a light snack, and quietly listened to the voices around him. The server had eyed him as though wondering whether he belonged there, but once Turan paid, he bowed deeply and accepted him as a customer. After about half an hour spent savoring wine and cheese that must have been fairly expensive by local standards, Turan heard the topic he had been waiting for.

"You set sail tomorrow, don't you?"

"That's right. Back to that damned desert again... There are merfolk along the route, and those fucking pirates are relentless."

"It's that bad?"

"We had a hole punched in the ship on our last trip back! Our shipowner's mad. I keep telling him we need at least one knight..."

Two men who looked to be in their thirties were talking, their faces flushed with drink. One lamented that his shipowner was such a damned miser he would not hire even a single knight, and that several sailors had died on the voyage because of it. After listening quietly, Turan rose and walked over to their table.

"May I trouble you for a moment?"

"Hm?"

"We're not buying anything. Damn it, are they letting any old peddler in here now—"

Turan casually extended a hand to stop the man from calling a server.

"I'm not a peddler. A passenger, perhaps."

"A passenger?"

"I'm looking for a ship bound for the Enril Desert. I overheard your companion saying he sails on one."

Both men widened their eyes.

"As I said, our ship does leave tomorrow, but we don't take ordinary passengers. Every person we take aboard means cargo we have to leave behind. We're short of sailors as it is."

It matched what the fruit seller had told him remarkably well. Turan nodded and placed a hand on the wineglass they had been drinking from.

"I thought I heard you say you needed a wizard aboard."

The two sailors gaped as the dark red liquid gently froze solid.