Chapter 3

Having shattered the monster's head with a single blow, Turan approached Keorn with his sling in one hand. In truth, deciding to help the knight had meant taking a considerable risk. If Keorn simply returned to the house he had served and told them there was a young, useful slave here for the taking, Turan would have to flee at once. Yet he had intervened because protecting a guest was his rightful duty as lord of Hisaril Hill, and because the old knight had been a courteous guest who treated him with respect.

"Are you all right?"

For some reason, however, Keorn was watching not Turan, but the leopard monster lying sprawled with its head shattered.

"Watch out!"

There was no need to ask what he meant. The leopard monster's headless body sprang up and lunged at Turan. A wavering, pale green radiance rose in place of the head that had first been pierced and was now utterly crushed.

Fortunately, the warning gave Turan time to kick the charging monster away and put some distance between them. The force of the kick sent its body tumbling dozens of meters, but it did not seem badly hurt.

"You can't kill a wraith with physical attacks!"

"How do I kill it, then?"

"With fire or lightning!"

At this advice, Turan immediately kindled flames on the monster's body, but as before, lightning flashed and the nascent fire fizzled out. Only then did Keorn become certain that Turan had killed the monster. It was common knowledge among wizards that applying magic directly to another magical being required an appropriate causal link, yet the young shepherd before him seemed utterly ignorant of even that principle. Naturally, he would not have known that he needed to disperse a dead monster's mana, either.

"Don't set it on fire! Make fire and shoot it!"

Even as he offered this advice, Keorn thought Turan would struggle to follow it. Young wizards could kindle flames instinctively, but controlling those flames directly was a skill that required separate training.

Hardly had that worry crossed his mind when a flame sprang up above Turan's hand, circled it, and shot toward the monster as though driven by centrifugal force. He had simply borrowed the principle behind slinging stones, the means of attack most familiar to him.

[■□■□■□■--]

As the flying flame caught on its spirit form, the monster let out a hideous shriek and rolled on the ground. It seemed to be trying to rub the fire out against the earth, but the magical flames burned on, feeding on their master's mana. Unlike Keorn's attacks, which had done nothing at all, this showed that Turan's mana was plainly superior to his opponent's.

Turan focused intently, continuing to feed power into the flames clinging to the monster so they would not die out. After about thirty seconds, the spirit form surrounding it screamed, and its body promptly burned away in an instant. Turan and Keorn sighed in relief at the same time.

"It's really over now, isn't it?"

"Yes... First, absorb its mana. Unless you want to face another wraith."

Absorbing mana was not particularly difficult. All he had to do was hold his hand over the corpse and imagine drawing in something invisible. That alone brought forth an aura the same color as the spirit form from moments before, which seeped into his body.

Turan shuddered at the entirely unfamiliar sensation. Something was steadily accumulating inside him, making him feel as though he were becoming a stronger, stranger being. The shivering pleasure raised goosebumps all over his body.

"Is this truly your first time absorbing mana?"

"Yes."

"Hard to believe..."

Mana normally grew slowly with age after one's first awakening, but without killing other monsters or wizards and absorbing theirs, the increase was not particularly large. Did that mean the abilities Turan had just displayed came entirely from his innate power?

Considering that the limit to one's growth through absorbing mana was proportional to one's innate reserves, his potential had to be tremendous. As the realization sank in, Keorn cleared his throat softly and asked in a respectful tone.

"I must apologize for my discourtesy, young lord. Might I ask which house you belong to?"

Keorn's deferential manner made Turan uncomfortable. He could not quite explain why... but he did not want to see the old knight abase himself like this.

"Let's get you patched up before we talk."

Blood was still streaming from the claw wound above Keorn's eyebrow.

* * *

"Ngh..."

Keorn groaned softly as Turan applied the juice of a blood-staunching herb to his head and wrapped it in a bandage. Turan kept herbs and bandages—really little more than well-washed scraps of cloth—at home in case of injury, so he could provide reasonably good first aid.

It would have been nice to heal him instantly with magic, but Turan knew from treating his mother's bruises in the past that healing another person's wounds consumed an excessive amount of mana. Even if he exhausted all his mana, he could probably barely close a tenth of the torn scalp.

"My deepest apologies, young lord. To have someone of your standing do this for me..."

"I've told you several times, I'm no one of any standing. Just a shepherd who doesn't even know who his father is."

Turan glared at the old knight, packing his gaze with the message that he should stop treating him that way. After a brief staring contest, Keorn shook his head in surrender.

"All right, all right... Don't look at me like that."

Turan gave a small chuckle in turn.

"But why is a powerful wizard like you tending sheep in a place like this? I don't mean to belittle shepherding, but it hardly seems a fitting occupation for you."

It was almost the reverse of Turan's question yesterday about why someone like Keorn was hunting monsters in a place like this. Unlike Keorn, Turan could not answer that he took pride in being a shepherd.

"It's a bit of a long story."

Turan calmly recounted his childhood: discovering magic, the stories his mother had told him about terrifying nobles, and so on... After hearing it all, Keorn nodded.

"She was wise."

"You think so?"

The answer was somewhat unexpected, and Turan raised his eyes slightly. Given Keorn's pride in his station, he had expected him to say that his mother had been too fearful, that the world below the hill was not quite such a hell.

"Some twenty years ago, House Arabion, which I served, fought a war against the great House Zahar. Of Arabion's roughly three thousand knights, more than nine hundred died."

"Nearly a third."

"The truly unfortunate thing was that everyone I knew was among that third. My two closest friends, my wife, my son—all died. Only I survived."

An emotion difficult to describe settled over Keorn's face as he spoke. Turan could not presume to fathom his grief. He could only guess that it had been as painful as losing his own mother, perhaps even more so. After a long silence, Keorn brightened his expression again and changed the subject.

"As your mother said, a knight's life can sometimes be lost more easily and pointlessly than a commoner's. But there is one thing she was wrong about: your gifts are far beyond those of a mere knight."

"Are they?"

"It's embarrassing to say this in my present state, but I'm a fairly capable knight. Yet you easily dispatched a monster that even I could scarcely stand against, and without ever properly absorbing mana."

After pausing to drink some sheep's milk and catch his breath, Keorn declared,

"That gives you the makings of a noble—at least an upper-tier one, at that."

It did not feel quite real to Turan. Perhaps it was because he had spent so many years living with his mother's assessment that his talent was only that of a knight. He even wondered whether Keorn might be overestimating him.

"My mother said my father was a knight. Was that a lie?"

"There are always exceptions, just as tall parents don't always have tall children. Rare though it is, nobles can have children who fall short of even a knight, and knights can produce wizards of noble caliber."

Turan thought of the villagers, particularly the carpenter's family. The short carpenter and his short wife had an eldest son who was just as short as they were, but their second son was tall and lanky. Granted, that second son bore a striking resemblance to a burly woodcutter in the village...

"With that in mind, I think you would be better off going down from this hill."

"Why is that?"

"Because we humans need more nobles and knights. Humanity is not yet the undisputed master of the world. Besides the monsters, the various other races driven out by the gods long ago are constantly watching for a chance to rise again. And all the while, the nobles keep waging war on one another. We desperately need every strong, kindhearted noble like you we can get."

Other races... They had appeared a few times in his mother's old stories, but to Turan they seemed as fanciful as gods or demons. He knew little about them, but apparently the world below regarded them as a real threat.

"Besides, it pains me to see a gifted young man waste his life here. You're not content living as a shepherd, are you?"

Had he remembered how Turan had failed to give a proper answer when asked why he was a shepherd? After a moment's silence, Turan nodded in agreement.

"You needn't worry too much about what your mother feared. It might be different for an ordinary knight, but even the great houses show fellow nobles a measure of respect. All the more so for one as powerful as you."

"So I needn't fear being dragged off by some house without warning."

"As with anything in this world, I can't say for certain."

All manner of thoughts raced through Turan's mind. He wanted to trust Keorn's words, yet his fear of nobles, nurtured over a lifetime, had not disappeared. The two feelings stood in perfect opposition.

While he wrestled with his thoughts, Keorn sat on the bed with bandages wrapped around various parts of his body, waiting patiently. Tens of minutes passed before Turan asked quietly,

"What could I find down there?"

Reading in that question a resolve to venture out into the world, Keorn smiled and answered.

"That depends on what you want. Wealth, fame, power—or perhaps family, friendship... Wouldn't any of those be hard to find here?"

Keorn suggested, one by one, things Turan might do in the world below. He could roam the world as Keorn now did, slaying monsters that threatened people, become an explorer of unknown lands humanity had yet to settle, or be adopted into a house and pursue a life of power... One thing was certain: any of them sounded more interesting than tending sheep on Hisaril Hill.

"Come to think of it, this hadn't occurred to me, but what bloodline ability do you have? I should have asked that first, but it slipped my mind."

"Bloodline ability?"

When Turan echoed the unfamiliar term, Keorn clicked his tongue at his mistake. He still had not grown accustomed to this young shepherd's ignorance of the world of magic.

"Do you know that our magical power comes from our ancestors, the Freyans?"

"My mother told me about that."

"Nobles are beings closer to the Freyans, and inherit some of the traits their divine ancestors possessed. The presence or absence of a bloodline ability is also what distinguishes a noble from a knight. Houses naturally form among people with the same bloodline ability."

"How can you tell if you have one?"

"Have you ever found certain kinds of magic particularly easy and simple to use, or others especially difficult? Or do you naturally possess abilities beyond those of others, even without using magic?"

"Being stronger than other people wouldn't count, would it?"

"Simply possessing mana enhances a wizard's physical abilities. Wanting to be faster, stronger, and tougher is a natural instinct in every animal. Great strength is a bloodline ability too, but I don't think yours is quite at that level."

Turan pondered Keorn's words. Which of his abilities particularly stood out...?

"I have a good sense of smell. My eyesight and hearing are better than most people's too, but I think my nose stands out the most."

He was particularly adept at detecting the scent of blood, to the point that he could roughly identify what sort of creature had bled by smell alone. Hearing this, Keorn nodded.

"A keen sense of smell... If it's that precise, it certainly qualifies as a bloodline ability. What else?"

"I'm fairly good at throwing stones. Though that's because my mother taught me from an early age."

Turan had begun learning to sling stones from his mother at five years old. It was the most effective way for an ordinary shepherd to deal with the most fearsome enemies, such as wolves and leopards. Besides, as he had noticed recently, empowering stones and throwing them seemed to consume remarkably little mana.

"Skill with projectile weapons. That's one of the traits of our House Arabion. Though I'm not sure whether yours qualifies as a bloodline ability."

"Is it?"

"It's actually quite a common trait. Broadly speaking, there are three types: those skilled at firing projectiles, those skilled at close combat, and those reasonably good at both."

Turan and Keorn went through several more questions and answers, sorting out what he was particularly good at and what he was not. For some reason, though, Keorn's face grew darker as they talked. It became increasingly evident, until by their final exchange he looked almost mournful.

"I think I know."

"Which house?"

For some reason, Keorn did not answer immediately. After hesitating several times, he reluctantly spoke.

"There are a few possibilities... but the traits of the Zahar bloodline stand out most. It's also called the Pursuer, or the Hunter."

Zahar. Turan rolled the name around in his mouth, finding it strangely familiar. Why, when his mother had never told him anything about wizard houses?

Looking at Keorn's gloomy face, he realized why. Zahar was the name of the house that had waged war against Keorn's own House Arabion and slaughtered all his friends and family.