Chapter 4

Sometimes life put you in an awkward situation where you simply did not know what to say. That was exactly where Turan found himself now.

Was he supposed to apologize for sharing the blood of Keorn’s enemies? Even though the deeds in question had been committed by relatives he had never met?

Yet brushing it aside by saying it had nothing to do with him felt shameless, too. After all, that very bloodline was the source of the formidable magical power he had been born with. Wouldn’t that amount to insisting he would take the good parts of his ancestral inheritance but wash his hands of the bad...?

How long had that excruciating silence lasted? Keorn gave Turan a hearty clap on the shoulder.

“Don’t look so stricken! It’s not as though you fought in that war, is it?”

Turan wanted to point out that Keorn had been the one looking stricken, but he could hardly say that aloud. He merely nodded in silence.

“There’s no sense in dragging young people like you into the affairs of their elders. If we keep trying to wash away blood with blood, the fighting will never end. And it will be ordinary people who suffer.”

Even as he spoke, the bitterness on Keorn’s face did not entirely fade. Turan quietly asked him a question.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Telling me to leave the hill.”

If Turan decided to pursue power, he would inevitably join House Zahar. After all, Keorn had said that only people with the same bloodline ability could become the core members of a noble house. That could very well deal a devastating blow to House Arabion, which Keorn had served. A powerful wizard would suddenly be joining an enemy faction hostile enough to have fought a war against them. But at Turan’s observation, Keorn shook his head.

“I trust your character. You welcomed a stranger into your home and treated him well. You were kind enough to help me even at the cost of revealing the secret you’d kept hidden. If someone like you joined House Zahar and rose to lead it, perhaps you could prevent another terrible war like that...”

Turan thought Keorn was giving him far too much credit. He had treated Keorn so hospitably only because his mother had taught him to, and because he had been hungry for conversation with someone who wasn’t hostile. He had helped Keorn in danger simply because he didn’t want someone he had enjoyed talking to to die. Had Keorn treated him curtly, he would not have cared whether the man lived or died.

As Turan stared silently at the floor, lost in thought, Keorn shook his head.

“Well, there’s no need to take it so seriously. You haven’t decided to join House Zahar anyway.”

“That’s true.”

In fact, for now he found the idea of wandering about hunting monsters, as Keorn did, more appealing. He had little desire to tie himself to any one place, and that way he would see more of the world. Besides, after hearing Keorn’s story, he had developed a vague dislike of House Zahar.

“I intend to stay here until your injuries have healed anyway, Elder. I’ll take my time thinking it over.”

“‘Injuries’ makes it sound so serious. They’re only a few scratches!”

Keorn laughed heartily.

* * *

While Keorn recovered, Turan decided to study magic under him in earnest. Having wielded his power however he pleased without ever being taught a thing, he had a great deal to learn.

“The power of magic, mana, is often called the key to omnipotence.”

“The key to omnipotence...”

“But it isn’t truly an omnipotent power, whatever the name might suggest. More precisely, bringing something about requires a fitting amount of mana in payment. I imagine you’ve experienced that yourself.”

“How is that amount determined?”

This was something Turan had always wondered about while using magic. At his question, Keorn cleared his throat lightly and held up three fingers.

“The difficulty of magic is determined by three main factors. First, bloodline. Second, individuality. Third, causal links.”

Bloodline, individuality, causal links. Sitting quietly, Turan committed the three terms to memory.

“The first, bloodline, simply means that your innate bloodline ability affects your magic. So it doesn’t apply to knights. For example... you would find it difficult to heal my wounds right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Those of the Ravista bloodline in the southwest of the continent, also known as the Healer Bloodline, can naturally use magic to heal wounds without any particular training. Someone born with great power can even reattach severed limbs and cure all manner of diseases. By contrast, acquiring such abilities is all but impossible for other bloodlines, no matter how hard they try. That’s what I mean.”

The moment he heard that, Turan thought of his mother. If he had been born with that bloodline’s power, she would not have died of illness... But he knew such thoughts were meaningless now. He bit his lip lightly and put the regret aside.

“Then what does the second factor, individuality, mean?”

“It’s also called proficiency. The idea is that a wizard can more easily perform things they prefer or are accustomed to. A wizard who often wields a sword will find it easier to create an intangible sword or strengthen an existing one, while a wizard who enjoys playing in the water will find it easier to move underwater through magic.”

“Would throwing fire as though I were slinging a stone count?”

“Clever boy. Exactly right. If you’d simply shot the fire normally, it probably wouldn’t have been nearly as fast or powerful.”

Having experienced it once already, Turan had no trouble understanding. Keorn smiled fondly, as though looking at a bright pupil, then suddenly frowned.

“The third and final factor, causal links, is the most important, but it’s rather complicated. In truth, even I don’t understand it perfectly. Essentially, things that are ‘natural’ happen more easily...”

Keorn stroked his chin for a long while, apparently considering how to explain, before he began.

“What would happen if you tried to kill me with mana?”

“I imagine your head would light up, and that would be the end of it.”

Turan was thinking of what had happened recently when he tried to cast magic on the monster.

“Exactly. That phenomenon occurs because the causal link is insufficient. It happens when there is no appropriate cause for what you want to achieve, and when what you’re trying to accomplish is too difficult. Your attempt would meet both conditions.”

“I think I understand a little about the cause.”

“Can you explain?”

“Yes. If I wanted to kill you, for example, I shouldn’t merely spend mana vaguely wishing for your death. I would need to provide a cause of death, such as making a fireball and shooting it at you. And creating fire and shooting it is considered more ‘natural’ than setting you on fire directly.”

He had inferred this from his earlier experience fighting the dead monster—the wraith. Keorn clapped his hands, looking impressed.

“Precisely! You could have been a scholar instead of a wizard. You’re remarkably quick to understand. As you say, establishing a proper cause can dramatically reduce the amount of mana you expend.”

“But I could kill or control ordinary wolves and sheep however I pleased. Is there a reason monsters in particular require that?”

Casting magic on other animals was usually easy, so Turan had always dealt with dangerous ones by simply casting a spell on them. This encounter with the monster was the first time he had experienced resistance to his magic.

“Living creatures with mana gain resistance to magic in proportion to the amount they possess. But if you move an already completed spell into contact with them, you can offset a considerable portion of that resistance. Of course, if the gap is too great, the spell may still fail to work.”

According to Keorn, the same principle explained why his own spells had barely worked, while Turan’s fire had burned the wraith at once. In other words, casting magic directly on a wizard would also be nearly impossible.

After listening to the lengthy explanation, Turan could feel his head beginning to throb. He kneaded his temples with his thumbs.

“Magic really isn’t easy.”

“Strong mana alone doesn’t make a great wizard. You must understand the principles of magic and what you’re capable of, of course, but knowing how to make use of your surroundings is important too.”

Turan closed his eyes and reviewed what Keorn had just taught him several times. In doing so, he realized there was something he had yet to hear about.

“Come to think of it, does the Zahar bloodline have any special magic?”

The innate Zahar traits Keorn had pointed out amounted to an almost excessively keen sense of smell, night vision, and a talent for hitting targets with projectiles. None of those involved magical abilities. At Turan’s question, Keorn nodded.

“It does. Zahar wizards excel at stealth and tracking. Have you ever used that sort of magic?”

“I’ve tried tracking a few times. Never stealth.”

He had used magic to find things a few times, whether to check that his mother was safe or to hunt down and kill wolves prowling around the hill. That same magic had helped him discover Keorn’s plight in time to save him. By contrast, he had never tried magic to conceal himself. Naturally enough, there was no one on this hill he needed to hide from.

“Give it a try. Quite a few wizards can use invisibility magic if they have the aptitude, but the highest level of stealth, escaping perception entirely, is an ability reserved for the Zahar bloodline.”

Turan immediately concentrated.

‘I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want them to hear or smell me, either...’

The instant he formed that thought, the mana within him began draining rapidly. He looked down at his hands and body, but nothing had changed.

“Did it work?”

Instead of answering his question, Keorn looked in his direction with slightly unfocused eyes.

“You’ve done it. I can’t see you. Are you still there?”

Turan rose from his chair and slowly made a circuit of the room, but Keorn continued staring blankly at the spot where he had been sitting. Even when Turan stamped on the floor or lightly snapped his fingers, Keorn seemed unable to hear a thing.

Having confirmed that much, Turan cut off the flow of mana. Keorn’s eyes flew wide, fixing on him. A moment later, he let out a deep sigh, as though releasing his tension.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw that, but it’s still a frightening ability... During the war, Arabion’s knights used to wish night would never come. All too often, morning would come to find everyone who’d been sleeping in a barracks beheaded.”

“This... seems like a terribly unfair ability.”

It was terrifying magic, beyond comparison with the healing ability he had wanted only moments before. How could anyone fight an opponent they could not even perceive? Keorn shook his head in disagreement.

“It doesn’t make you completely invincible. A few of the highest-tier magic tools can detect even Zahar’s stealth, and there are other methods, such as brightly lighting the area to increase their mana consumption, or bombarding the surroundings indiscriminately. Of course, it’s a powerful ability even taking those things into account, which is why Zahar became a great house.”

Its only real drawback was the heavy mana consumption, and that could be solved by hunting enough monsters to increase his reserves. Besides, as he grew more accustomed to stealth, the amount of mana it required would decrease.

“At any rate, that’s enough theory. Now I’ll teach you a few simple training methods...”

* * *

Over the three days it took Keorn’s wounds to heal completely, Turan learned a great deal besides magic. There was the general layout of the world (though that account was not very precise, since there were many regions Keorn knew little about), the names and locations of powerful wizard houses, and the basic knowledge he would need while traveling.

At last, the morning of their departure arrived. Turan packed a leather backpack with food that would keep well, a few changes of clothes, some basic cooking utensils, and a few keepsakes from his mother, then left the house. Keorn, who was already outside enjoying the sunlight, looked at him.

“You look rather troubled.”

“Well, I am leaving the place where I’ve lived my entire life.”

“Don’t make too much of it. If you find you really don’t like wandering, you can always come back.”

Turan smiled bitterly and shook his head. No matter how much he disliked the world below, he would never return to this place he was so sick of. He would sooner find another retreat.

After they descended the hill together, Turan’s first stop was the village chief. He told him he wanted to sell all the sheep left in the shed on the hill. The chief cried out in surprise.

“You’re selling the sheep and leaving? Then who’s going to do the shepherding?”

“That’s for you people to work out. Anyway, I’d like you to pay a fair price. Otherwise, I’ll just go back, turn them all loose, and leave. You’re welcome to round them up again, but you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Fortunately, rather than try to stare Turan down, the chief offered a reasonably decent price. That was probably thanks to the consistency Turan had shown the villagers over the years. When he said he would break someone’s arm, he broke it; when he said he would crack someone’s head, he did exactly that.

As they left the village, Turan jingled his purse of silver coins a few times, then spoke to Keorn.

“Those bastards still managed to stiff you on your reward, Elder. Shall I go collect it?”

“I never intended to take it anyway. Since the monster turned into a wraith, there’s no proof we could bring back. Besides, when you get down to it, you were the one who killed it.”

Keorn merely chuckled despite the village chief having withheld the promised reward. Then again, he still had plenty of the retirement money the house had given him, so he was hardly strapped for cash. He had come to hunt the monster as a kind of volunteer service in the first place.

Chatting as they went, they left the village and descended farther and farther until they reached a fork in the road. Turan spoke, his voice a little thick.

“This is where we part, then.”

“Yes. You’ve decided to head south, so you’ll want the right-hand road.”

Turan had wanted to travel with Keorn, but the old knight had refused his company, saying he was more comfortable traveling alone. Turan felt hurt, but did not show it.

“Take care, then, Turan. May we meet again with smiles on our faces.”

“Thank you for everything, Elder. I’ve learned a great deal.”

After they said their farewells, Keorn set off down the left-hand road without looking back once. Watching him quietly, Turan finally understood why he had not wanted the old knight to address him deferentially. His mother had never given him any shortage of love, but deep down, he had longed for a father. Someone kind and gentle, who could serve as an example of the man he should grow into...

Turan gazed north until Keorn had vanished from sight, then slowly set off south. An unknown world awaited him.