Chapter 30

On the return journey, Turan sat in the boat and closely examined his mysterious new treasure. It fit neatly in his palm, with a round rim and relatively flat faces that gave it an overall shape much like the compass he had brought.

One unusual feature was a small button on its side. Pressing it opened the lid with a click. The inside was completely empty, leaving him unable to guess its purpose, but surely this too served some function.

Fortunately, he did not have to hold the object in his hand to use it. As long as it was in his possession—in a pocket, for instance—he could call on its abilities at any time.

With his eyes closed, Turan sensed countless presences moving through the sea below. A cluster of several hundred tiny flames, a group of a dozen or so slightly larger lights, and still larger lights moving on their own...

The detection range was normally a dozen or so meters, but with concentration, he could extend it to anywhere from several dozen to well over a hundred meters. Only after practicing the detection ability over and over did he take out his compass again, check his bearings, and continue east.

He propelled the boat onward for about an hour. On his fifth use of Search magic targeting human scent, he finally caught a faint trace of body odor in the distance.

'Found it.'

He silently guided the little boat alongside the Marlin, moored it, and leaped onto the deck. The sailor on watch screamed at the sight of him.

"Aagh! A m-monster—oh, it's you, Sir Knight! I thought you were staying on the island..."

"I had something to do."

Like Armani, the sailor had a very faint flame in his heart, but everything else was gray. Was that a difference between their races, or was there something special about the boy because he was royalty?

Leaving the sailor's respectful salute behind, Turan returned to his cramped cabin and lay down on the bed. His head felt unusually heavy, perhaps because he had so much to think about.

* * *

The next day, Turan slept until the sun was high, only waking when he caught a peculiar smell. What roused him from his deep sleep was the thick reek of blood.

'What's going on?'

Why would there suddenly be bloodshed here, on an island frequented by merchant ships rather than out in the middle of the sea? He found his answer when he went up on deck.

"Ugh..."

"It hurts like fucking hell! Put some salve on it!"

Sailors were whimpering, blood streaming down their backs. Beside them, Boatswain Renak chewed on some unidentified herb, cracking his bloodied whip through the air a few times.

"Now, everyone repeat after me! We will not!"

"Be late!"

"Insubordination!"

"Means death!"

Looking utterly miserable, the sailors shouted their responses to Renak like a chorus.

"What's all this about?"

"Oh, you're awake? We're punishing the men who stayed out too late enjoying themselves last night."

First Mate Osvan, who had been watching the flogging with a dour expression, explained. Come to think of it, the captain had said something to that effect before Turan left yesterday, but he had never imagined they would actually whip men for returning late.

Turan stared at the blood-soaked deck for a while, then shook his head. Someone might well die if things went wrong, but that did not mean he should intervene and undermine their discipline. They had their own rules, and above all, he had seen the sailors agree to them yesterday.

Instead, he studied how each of the other sailors looked through the vision the Holy Relic granted him. Most looked much the same, but in those wounded by the lash, he could see some of the blue flame turning red and dispersing at the site of their injuries.

"Where's the captain?"

"He's gone ashore. Said he was going to find someone to buy the ship."

"I see."

As the ship's owner, Turan wanted to see how the sale was progressing. Leaving the sailors to their flogging, he headed onto the island.

"Whoo-hoo! Hahahaha!"

"Bleeaaargh—"

"You bastard! You think this is a privy?"

Miguel Island made its living from merchant ships stopping to resupply during their voyages. Naturally, many of the people on its streets were sailors from the ships moored in the harbor.

Even in broad daylight, there were men drunkenly howling with unfocused eyes, men vomiting, and men openly pissing in the street... It made him realize that on the mainland, these people had at least maintained a minimum of decorum.

Passing the sailors and heading toward the center, he came upon a fairly clean, sizeable building: an upscale tavern that apparently admitted only captains. As he approached, the hulking doorman held out a hand, looking incredulous.

"Hey, this isn't a place for whelps like you. If you miss your mother's tits, go find yourself one of those whores over there."

Rather than answer, Turan casually snapped his fingers and conjured a flame. The doorman went white. Turan walked past him as he bowed deeply and entered the tavern.

"Is that true?"

"I'm telling you! At least tens of thousands have fled the place. It'll probably remain a land of death for some time."

In one corner of the tavern, Captain Pires was deep in conversation with another captain who appeared to be about his age. Noticing Turan approach, Pires bowed his head in surprise.

"Master Turan."

"Good morning."

"Yes. Though it's a little late to call it morning... Ah, this is Samudel, captain of the Winter Crow. Unlike me, he owns the ship he commands. He's also the man who has agreed to buy your ship."

"A pleasure to meet you, Master Turan."

Captain Samudel was a middle-aged man wearing a pointed tricorn hat. Unlike Pires, he had both eyes intact, but a hook replaced one of his hands. Was a missing body part a qualification for becoming a captain? Or perhaps anyone who spent enough years at sea to become one inevitably suffered an injury somewhere along the way.

"Likewise. What price did you settle on?"

"We've agreed on a thousand Zahar gold coins for the ship and all the miscellaneous goods aboard."

Turan had never seen a Zahar gold coin, so he could not tell whether that was a fair price. Still, with a fifth of the proceeds promised to Pires, the captain surely would not have sold it for a pittance. He nodded and took a seat as a matter of course.

"Where have you sailed from, Captain Samudel?"

"I'm on my way from the Enril Desert to Abacha, so my route is the exact opposite of this fellow's. I'd been planning to buy another ship in Abacha this time, so I'm delighted to get one cheaply here."

"Oh."

Perhaps Pires had given Samudel some idea of who Turan was, for he answered earnestly rather than looking down on him for his youth. After a few minutes of small talk over the salty ham and dates on the table, Turan got to the real purpose of his visit.

"Would I be able to buy something like a magic tool here? Any small object of comparable value would do, too."

He explained his circumstances to the puzzled Samudel: he was traveling alone, which made carrying such a large sum inconvenient. Once he had heard the details, Samudel had a ready answer.

"This is only a stopover, so I doubt anyone here has anything like that. You'll probably have to go as far as Komad."

Miguel Island might be a key point in North Sea trade, but it was only somewhere to stop for food and drink. The island itself was too small to have an economy robust enough to support such goods. Indeed, its inhabitants were not particularly wealthy, making their living selling alcohol and their bodies to sailors.

By contrast, Komad—the port city north of the Enril Desert that was the Marlin's destination—was the second-largest city in Zahar territory. It was much more likely to have what Turan wanted.

"If you like, shall I write you a letter of introduction? I have some ties with House Dirmin, which rules Komad. They possess the Tamer bloodline, so you should be able to buy a tame monster from them."

That brought Asiz's horse, tilly, to Turan's mind. House Berg had purchased that horse from a noble of the Tamer bloodline and given it to Asiz as a gift. He thought he might enjoy keeping a creature like that powerful, intelligent red horse himself.

"I'm grateful, but..."

Understanding the unspoken question—what had Turan done to deserve such a favor?—Samudel grinned.

"Since I'm the one paying you, I know you have the means to buy a tame monster. All I'm doing is bringing a buyer and seller together. Please don't feel obliged."

* * *

Two days later, the Marlin set sail again, fully stocked with food and water, its crew restored to perfect health in body and mind—with the exception of a few men who had been flogged. Now that roughly two-thirds of the voyage was behind them, morale was reasonably high.

"This voyage really isn't half bad, is it? The pirates filled our purses, and the weather's been fantastic..."

"Must be thanks to having a descendant of the gods aboard."

As though offended by the sailors' chuckling remarks, on the third day of sailing, the sky ahead filled with dark clouds. The second mate on watch spotted them and immediately spread the warning.

"Storm clouds ahead! All hands, prepare!"

Seasoned by years of the North Sea's fickle weather, the sailors were quick to prepare for the storm. Boatswain Renak had the men loosen the lines and lower the sails, while the helmsman swallowed hard and gripped the wheel. Others, including the cook, hurried to bring inside the goods that had been left on deck because the hold was full.

But the weather always struck more capriciously than expected. Before they could finish their preparations, lightning, wind, and rain were upon them. At a time of year when snow would hardly have been surprising, wind-driven rain sapped body heat in moments.

Their lips blue and their whole bodies shaking, the sailors struggled to finish their assigned tasks. Then a great wave slammed into the ship's side.

"Aaaaagh!"

A sailor who had climbed the tallest mast to loosen a line was thrown off by the impact, screaming. Whether he struck the deck or fell into the sea from that height of several dozen meters, he was as good as dead. Just as everyone's faces stiffened, his falling body suddenly stopped in midair.

"... Huh?"

"This way."

At Turan's command and gesture, the sailor slowly descended to the deck. To a wizard, an ordinary person born without mana was no different from an animal or an inanimate natural object. In other words, the same effort required to move a human-sized rock could move an ordinary person as well.

"Get below!"

"Yes, sir!"

Turan's efforts did not end with that rescue. He manipulated rope and canvas to furl the sail the falling man had left unsecured, then pushed the cargo rolling around the deck back inside. Along the way, he also saved two more sailors who had slipped and were about to be flung overboard.

After making sure every sailor except the helmsman at the wheel had gone belowdecks, Turan followed last and shut the door. He let out an involuntary sigh, perhaps from having kept himself so intensely alert, however briefly.

"Phew..."

"Th-thank you, my god! Thank you so much!"

The man on his knees, weeping profusely as though in worship, was the sailor who had been thrown from the mast.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, sir!"

"Good. That's all that matters."

Turan patted the endlessly thanking sailor on the shoulder to reassure him, then sought out Captain Pires. The captain was discussing something with the other senior crewmen, all of them looking grave. As Turan approached, he broke off the conversation and bowed his head respectfully in thanks.

"Thank you, Master Turan. You saved not only those sailors, but all of us. If you hadn't lowered the sail, we'd probably have sunk by now."

"I'm a member of this crew for the time being, too. It was only natural. Do you think we can weather the storm?"

"All we can do is trust the ship and the helmsman's skill. The mates and I will have to keep going out to take turns relieving him. More than that, I'm worried about how soaked everyone is..."

With all the cargo from the deck brought below, the crew quarters were packed so tightly there was barely room to stand. Their wet clothes leaching the warmth from their bodies, the sailors shivered all over and huddled together for warmth.

After watching them quietly, Turan raised his voice.

["Everyone, form a circle!"]

Though thunder still rumbled overhead, everyone in the quarters heard his voice clearly. It was a clumsy imitation of the sound-amplification magic used during the Arabion House Head's public appearance. Crude as it was compared with theirs, it was enough to reach the dozens of people in a room this size.

["I'm going to light a fire! Gather in a circle around me!"]

"Master Turan, lighting a fire now could be disastrous."

Captain Pires tried to stop him, looking troubled. If the rocking ship caused the fire to catch on a wall, there could be no greater disaster.

"It's all right. I have a way to light one without letting it spread."

"Is that even possible..."

Pires stopped himself before he could finish the question. He alone knew that the wizard before him was actually a noble-caliber powerhouse.

A little later, once all the sailors had gathered in a circle, Turan kindled a flame above his hand. He braced himself firmly enough that even as the ship rocked, the flame remained in place.

At the same time, he manipulated the airflow to spread the heat in every direction. A thawing warmth seeped into every corner of the quarters.

"My god..."

The sailors stared, spellbound, at Turan holding fire in his hand and sharing its warmth. This was an entirely different feeling from the exhilaration they had felt a few days earlier as they watched him slaughter pirates with his overwhelming power.

'Humans shall serve wizards, and wizards shall reign over humans and care for them.'

For the first time in their lives, they felt that a wizard was caring for them.