Chapter 41

A city without even a knight left, let alone a noble?

The walls that had looked so reassuring a moment ago now seemed like a sandcastle an invader could topple with a single breath. In this world, a city without a wizard’s protection was, in fact, little different.

“Have you, um, come from another city to save us?”

The policeman’s face was desperate and pleading as he asked the cautious question. But Turan shook his head, dashing those hopes.

“No. As I just said, I’m only a traveler passing through.”

At that honest answer, the policeman’s face twisted with despair, but he did not dare protest. How could a mere commoner dare talk back to a wizard?

Turan studied his face for a moment, then spoke with a faint sigh.

“But I’ll at least find out what’s happened. Is city hall still functioning?”

“Yes! There should still be a few people left!”

Turan was not looking into the city’s circumstances because he wanted to claim a city without a master, or because he found their plight too pitiful to bear. Sheep that had lost their master were pitiable, but the world was full of people like these. If he tried to help every unfortunate person he encountered, even a noble’s centuries-long lifespan would be too short.

He merely wanted to verify the alarming rumor that an army of another race was powerful enough to destroy an entire house. Yet even though he had only offered to look into matters, not solve them, the policeman’s face brightened.

After getting directions to city hall, Turan entered Kalamap. Contrary to his expectation of considerable commotion, the city was eerily quiet.

‘The atmosphere is... heavy. Terribly so.’

There was nothing particularly unusual about a quiet city. Murei had felt positively bustling when he visited it, but looking back, it had been a sleepy place, as one would expect of a small city with a population of a thousand or so.

What made this city feel different was the air of resignation hanging over every corner. Most of the people wandering the streets with empty, soulless eyes were either very old or very young, and their clothing was shabby even by commoner standards. Every building that looked like a shop was closed. Some had broken doors, as though they had been robbed, but no one seemed to care.

The city reminded Turan of the sheepdog he had raised as a child. Too old even to lift its head, it had lain limp, waiting for its breathing to stop. This city had the same air as that aged animal.

‘Most of the young and able-bodied have taken their families and fled... leaving only those too weak to manage even that.’

His light traveling clothes and black eagle still made him stand out, but unlike the policeman at the gate, Kalamap’s citizens paid him little attention. The misfortune facing them seemed too crushing to leave them any energy to look around.

Kalamap’s city hall, which he reached shortly afterward, was just as quiet. People who appeared to be civil servants were leafing through what looked like documents, but their sluggish movements betrayed little enthusiasm.

Just then, an official who had been swearing after accidentally tearing a hole in a sheet of parchment turned to glance at Turan. Taking in his clothing, the man apparently reached the same conclusion as the policeman earlier. His eyes widened, and he cried out.

“C-could you be... one who has inherited the blood of the gods?”

When Turan nodded at the roundabout question of whether he was a wizard, every official’s face lit up. A somewhat older woman hesitantly asked another question.

“I, um, beg your pardon for this most impertinent question, but might we inquire whether you are one whose noble blood has founded a house, or whether you are not—”

From the elaborate way she asked whether he was a noble or a knight, they apparently had little occasion to deal with wizards. Either that, or the city’s noble house had been too authoritarian to permit such questions.

“Turan. A wandering noble. Is the person in charge of this city here?”

Only at his curt, commanding tone did the officials look as though they were saved, like sheep that had found a shepherd after wandering alone in the wilderness. Some were so overcome that they even wept.

* * *

A short while later, a plump old man who introduced himself as the acting administrator led Turan to a room at the very top of city hall. His name was Daruk. He said that he had not originally held a particularly high rank, but had become their representative as the oldest and longest-serving of the remaining city officials.

“It grieves me beyond measure to receive one so exalted in such humble surroundings. I beseech you to forgive this discourtesy—”

“Keep it brief, without all the flattery. I don’t know whether that’s the custom here, but it makes me uncomfortable.”

Smaller cities generally tended to be especially formal around nobles, but these people took it to extremes. If he listened to every word they had to say, the entire day would be gone.

Daruk stole a wary glance at him, trying to gauge whether he was annoyed, and answered quietly.

“U-understood.”

“On my way here, I heard that Dark Elves wiped out this city’s nobles and knights.”

“To tell the truth, we don’t know the precise circumstances ourselves.”

With that preface, Daruk explained what had happened. About three weeks earlier, some peddlers had found the corpse of a monster hunter along the road west of the city. Even the hunter’s iron weapon had been sliced clean through, making it clear that a monster—and a very powerful one—was responsible. They had immediately hurried back to inform city hall.

An ordinary monster hunter might handle a minor monster, but one born from a fierce predator was far beyond them. Since the site was only a day’s journey from the city, hardly far at all, two of Kalamap’s knights set out to slay it. Three days passed without their return.

If two were not enough, more troops were needed. The head of the house ruling the city sent his younger sibling and his son with ten knights to subjugate the threat.

‘This is starting to remind me of that monkey monster hunt.’

Even the composition of the force was much the same, apart from Turan not being there.

“And? What happened next?”

“None of them returned either...”

Two nobles missing—a loss beyond anything a small house could bear. Abandoning even the city’s defenses, the House Head headed west with every knight except those too old or too young to serve properly. Several days later, only one knight returned alive, battered beyond recognition.

He said that everyone was dead. Asked who had killed them, he uttered a single word, “wraiths,” and breathed his last.

“Wraiths.”

“There were already widespread rumors of Dark Elves slaughtering and eating countless humans out west. A scholar said that if wraiths were involved, it had to be Dark Elves...”

Rumors had therefore spread that a Dark Elf army would soon descend on the city and devour every human there. Many citizens had fled, leaving the city in its current state.

“Have you asked nearby cities for aid?”

“Well, we sent messengers several times, but they all refused. They said they didn’t want to spread their forces thin at a time like this.”

Apparently, those approached had even included a house related by blood to the dead lord, but they, too, had balked. They had said they would send someone once things settled down a little. It was effectively a refusal.

“They’re scared.”

Then again, what good was gaining an entire city for free if you died for it? With rumors of a Dark Elf army nearby, they would be reluctant to spare even a single knight. Turan nodded, then gave a quiet sigh.

“I understand the situation now. But I’m afraid what’s happening here is more than I can handle—”

The instant Turan began to refuse, Daruk rose from the seat opposite him and threw himself to the floor beside him.

“I beg you! Please become this city’s master!”

Even so, Turan could not accept. Becoming its master meant being bound to the city. Unless war broke out with another house, or something equally momentous occurred, a House Head had to remain at the main house. There was no knowing what powerful enemy might attack and raze the city in their absence.

Turan recalled his time aboard the Marlin. The pressure he had felt when he was responsible for protecting just one ship and a few dozen sailors...

Becoming this city’s lord meant taking responsibility for over ten thousand lives—thousands, even accounting for those who had fled. He did not want to promise to shoulder a responsibility he could not bear. That would not be right.

As he was about to explain this, Daruk said something wholly unexpected, tears streaming down his wrinkled face.

“These feeble sheep need a shepherd. Please, have mercy!”

Nobles as shepherds, commoners as sheep. He had heard that comparison from his mother as a child, and it had lodged deep in a corner of his mind. Yet despite all his travels, he had never heard it anywhere else—until here.

Struggling to conceal his agitation, Turan asked a question.

“That comparison—is it commonly used here?”

“W-which comparison do you mean...?”

“Nobles being shepherds and commoners being sheep.”

“I have lived here all my life, so I don’t know much of other regions, but it is a common comparison in the Gray Zone. Nobles are shepherds, knights are sheepdogs, and commoners are sheep. The sheep shall graze obediently and follow where the sheepdogs lead, and the sheepdogs shall obey the shepherd and protect the sheep...”

True to its name, the Gray Zone had many rocky mountains and little land suitable for farming, Daruk explained. As a result, many people raised sheep on the scattered patches of pasture. At some point, the comparison had arisen naturally.

Hearing that, Turan felt half-certain. His mother had either come from this region or, at the very least, visited and spent time here. He had never heard the expression around Hisaril Hill where he grew up, nor even during his several encounters with the nomads of the Enril Desert, who raised plenty of sheep.

“Then have you ever seen this person? Her name is Vije, though that might not be her real name. Around twenty years ago, she would have been in her late teens or early twenties.”

Turan took his mother’s portrait out of his bag as he asked, but after studying it closely, Daruk shook his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize her. My apologies. But if you wish, we can certainly distribute copies of this picture throughout the city and ask.”

The old man looked up at Turan with moist eyes framed by wrinkles. The meaning of that look was plain. For Turan to get what he wanted, the city would at least have to survive...

Turan hesitated, then sighed.

“As I said earlier, I can’t become this city’s master. But I can serve as its Protector.”

“Its Protector?”

“I mean I’ll stay here temporarily and defend the city. Only until the threat to the west is gone, or a suitable master is found for it.”

* * *

“A savior has come to our city! We are saved!”

“The exalted descendant of the gods is with us! Have no fear!”

Less than an hour later, an announcement went out across Kalamap that a new noble had come to protect them. The vague wording that a savior, rather than a lord, had arrived was meant to reassure the citizens without revealing that this was only a temporary arrangement.

They even held a welcoming ceremony in the square outside city hall. Despite the lack of time and supplies, it looked quite respectable; the officials must have prepared it with desperate effort.

Throughout all this, not one of them dared try to determine whether Turan truly was a noble, or how powerful a noble he might be. They had no way of judging in the first place, and believed that even attempting to test his abilities would offend him.

The citizens watching from a distance, however, inevitably saw things a little differently.

“Is he really... one?”

“He doesn’t look much different from us.”

“He’s as handsome as the Freyan gods, at least.”

“What good is that? Do monsters run away from a pretty face?”

At the hastily arranged ceremony, Turan felt the citizens’ doubtful gazes upon him. Some freely voiced their jibes, perhaps assuming they were too far away for him to hear.

Yet beneath those cynical words, their eyes held anxiety and a defensive instinct. The citizens did not want to be disappointed again. The lord who had protected them was already dead. If this unknown young man proved a fraud, or died in turn, their despair would be twice as great.

“H-hey! Why is everyone so quiet?”

Beside him, Daruk and the other officials fretted and needlessly prodded the citizens, but that did nothing to make the cheers louder. Watching them, Turan suddenly recalled the tremendous lightning storm the Arabion House Head had once displayed.

At the time, he had thought it impressive but rather pointless. Now he realized how meaningful such a spectacle truly was. He had never imagined it mattered so much for people to see for themselves what made a noble a noble, and just how powerful their protector was.

‘Perhaps I should try it too. There isn’t a single wizard here, after all...’

Turan recalled the knight actors he had seen in the theater during his stay with House Berg. With mana that amounted to little more than a speck compared to a noble’s, they had conjured dazzling flames and played the part of mighty wizards. How had they managed it?

As fire rose above his hand, the square fell silent in an instant. Some were frightened, wondering if the noble had heard their insults and was about to cast magic in anger. Others rejoiced to learn that this youthful-looking man truly had the power to protect them.

But the performance Turan intended to give was only just beginning.

First, he had to lower the fire’s temperature. Lowering it too far would make the flames invisible, so striking the right balance was important. Having practiced this before, he managed it without difficulty.

Next, he spread those cooled flames upward. They were cooler than even the torches commoners lit—flames that even a knight could probably laugh off.

But none of the citizens attending the welcoming ceremony were wizards, so none of them knew that.

“Ah...”

“Oh... Ooooooh!”

“The fire! The fire!”

Turan’s mana was now enough to place him among the foremost ranks of all nobles. The result of focusing that power solely on increasing the quantity of these weak flames, rather than their quality, was truly staggering.

Breaking through the bleak, swirling blizzard, hundreds of meters of sky above the square blazed crimson.