Chapter 46

“The Wraith King...”

The title of king dated back to distant antiquity, to the rulers of the other races that had once held dominion over humanity. After the old empire fell, some human nobles had also proclaimed their territories kingdoms and styled themselves kings, but the practice had never truly caught on. Most of those called kings throughout history had played the villains, vanquished by the divine people and their descendants.

In other words, anyone of another race who dared call himself a king could be presumed to possess abilities worthy of the history books. It was a lofty title among their kind, after all, not one they readily granted to just anyone.

“Is he strong enough to deserve that title? All I heard was that he'd been utterly routed and fled.”

Hadn't Maysa treated him like prey already as good as caught when they last spoke?

“He was always fairly powerful, but he's become more troublesome of late. Did my lady also tell you that the surviving Dark Elf faction had joined the dwarves in their lair?”

“She mentioned that it was a possibility.”

“We found their hiding place and launched a full-scale assault, only to suffer devastating losses. Eight nobles and some two hundred knights died.”

“Wait, wasn't the subjugation force only...?”

“Forty nobles and seven hundred knights, counting those from the main house and our vassal houses. We lost three nobles and around a hundred and twenty knights during the campaign in the central region. Falling into this one trap cost us more lives than all of that.”

Losses on that scale were arguably greater than those House Zahar had suffered in the Tomb of the Gods. Though with a top-ranking noble like Perga among the dead, it wasn't a simple one-for-one comparison...

“How in the world did that happen?”

“The dwarves' lair was stocked with a great many unidentified magic tools. We'd never seen anything of their kind before, but every last one was exceedingly lethal.”

Where had magic tools suddenly come into this? Had some wizard house actually joined forces with another race to attack Arabion's army? If that really had happened, one likely candidate came to mind.

“You don't mean... Zahar?”

“My lady doesn't believe so. She says they seem to be unearthing and using ancient dwarven relics, though I'm not quite sure what she means by that.”

According to the books Turan had read, dwarves were particularly unintelligent even among the other races, violent and primitive creatures whose only strength was their exceptional physical prowess. Surely the most such beings could make was a bone necklace. Nothing of theirs could threaten a noble.

Still, if Maysa had said so, she probably knew something. As the heir to a great house, she was likely privy to more than most.

“I understand the situation. But there's a problem.”

“What sort of problem?”

“Do you happen to know who Talis Zahar is?”

“I don't, I'm afraid. I do know that isn't their House Head's name.”

Turan briefly recounted his travels through the Enril Desert. He explained that the head of a vassal house had seen in his face a resemblance to a noble named Talis, Zahar's current second-in-command.

“Someone among Arabion's nobles might notice something odd about my face.”

House Berg were Enchanters, so none of them had fought in the war. Maysa, too, had been only an infant during the fighting. That would explain why no one had recognized traces of a Zahar noble in his face during his stay there. But there was a good chance someone in the subjugation force would recognize his resemblance to Talis.

At this concern, Keorn burst into a hearty laugh.

“I see what you mean, but I don't think you need to worry. During the war, every Zahar noble wore a mask and similar clothing. According to a prisoner, they covered their faces to erase their distinguishing features, then used stealth magic to switch places and sow confusion. Indeed, many nobles spoke of finding themselves in trouble when the enemy they were fighting suddenly changed in strength.”

“Then...”

“You can safely assume almost no one in Arabion knows what the Zahar nobles look like. Even the peace agreement was merely an exchange of documents between knights on either side. But Zahar's second-in-command, you say? Could he be your father?”

“I'm not sure. As it happens, I've been looking into that here.”

Turan did not go so far as to mention that, through a turn of events, he had devoured the mana of ten Zahar nobles. Explaining that would mean delving into all manner of things, including the strange phenomena surrounding the Night Hunter.

“Besides, wouldn't this be terribly dangerous if Zahar had already recruited me?”

It would be a catastrophe if Turan entered their camp, then suddenly slaughtered a host of sleeping nobles one night and fled. Keorn answered with a wry smile.

“In my experience, people who would do such things don't announce that they could.”

“I've thought this before, but you think far too highly of me.”

“Who knows better than I that you lived a life entirely unconnected to Zahar until half a year ago? And you saved my life. Even if you have formed some connection with them since, I trust you wouldn't commit such an atrocity.”

Such faith, even after Turan had told him he had been all the way to the Enril Desert. Feeling embarrassed, he looked away for a moment before asking something that had been on his mind.

“But can't you request additional help from Arabion?”

Surely, if the House Head himself came, he could smash the Wraith King and the dwarven relics alike with strength to spare. Even without him, Arabion ought to have ample resources to send more reinforcements.

“There are two main problems. First, given the layout of their stronghold, sending in large numbers of weaker wizards would likely only increase our casualties. Second, my lady's position makes it difficult for her to request reinforcements from the main house.”

“Lady Maysa's?”

If she had rivals, as in Zahar, she would have to accept damage to her reputation. But what difficulty could an undisputed heir have in receiving her house's support? Reading the question behind his words, Keorn answered with a somewhat uncomfortable expression.

“The house's internal politics are involved, so I can't go into much detail... But being the heir doesn't mean she can do as she pleases. To request reinforcements from the main house, my lady would have to make certain concessions to them.”

In short, she needed powerful reinforcements, but various circumstances made it difficult to turn to the main house. With a formidable noble friend conveniently nearby, she hoped to borrow his strength. Having explained that much, Keorn rummaged through the pouch at his side and took out an object.

Thanks to the senses of his Mimic Holy Relic, Turan already knew it was a magic tool. Presumably, this was the reward Maysa had prepared to win his help. But when its identity was revealed a moment later, it exceeded his expectations.

“A High-Capacity Pouch. It's a Holy Relic.”

“A Holy... Relic? Do you mean what I think you mean?”

“Indeed. Though it ranks among the lowest grades of Holy Relic. Apparently there are quite a few similar items.”

What Keorn offered him was a cloth pouch scarcely larger than a palm. Once Turan accepted it, Keorn took a leather water flask from his own pouch and held it out, inviting him to try it.

“I'm told it can hold things roughly a thousand times its size. Their weight disappears until you take them out, too.”

Just as he said, the leather flask slipped easily into the cloth pouch despite being far larger. The wrinkled pouch did not so much as bulge, and when Turan reached inside again, his hand closed around the flask.

“I can hardly believe she entrusted you with something so precious to bring here, Elder. Not that I don't trust you...”

“It would certainly have been a disaster if someone had attacked me and stolen it. Don't worry. Lady Maysa accompanied me most of the way. I only came alone once the city was in sight.”

Of course. They wouldn't be so careless as to send a lone knight off carrying a Holy Relic. Turan turned the pouch over in his hands again and again.

'A High-Capacity Pouch.'

How tiresome had it been, lugging a pack at his side whenever he traveled alone? Packing provisions made it heavy and bulky, limiting how much he could carry, and earning too much money only made it awkward to transport. This one little pouch would solve all those problems, and it wasn't something he could simply buy anywhere. And yet...

'What on earth would she have to concede to the main house to give away something like this rather than ask them for help?'

Try as he might, he could not imagine what an heir to a great house might have to sacrifice. Still pondering, Turan asked casually,

“Will my help be enough to defeat them?”

“My lady believes it will.”

At that answer, Turan ran his fingers over the High-Capacity Pouch, then tied its cord around his waist.

“All right. I don't want Lady Maysa getting hurt either.”

If he turned his back now, one of his few friends would be forced to choose between a worse option and a dangerous one. Besides, hadn't he yet to repay her for teaching him thought acceleration magic? A debt ought to be repaid.

* * *

After notifying Daruk that he would be away for several days to a week, Turan flew west with Keorn aboard Vije. He held Vije's leg in one hand and Keorn's hand in the other. The old knight laughed at the sight of a black eagle flying through the sky with two people dangling beneath her.

“Ha ha... A black eagle! Wherever did you find such a means of flight?”

Vije gave an indignant chirp and twisted in midair at Keorn's words. She seemed offended at being treated as a means of flight.

“She says not to call her a means of flight.”

“Oh dear, my apologies. Vije... Er, is this a male or a female?”

“Female.”

“Miss Vije.”

Apparently pleased with the polite apology, she gave a satisfied cry and resumed flying normally. Before long, they met up with Maysa, who was waiting for Keorn atop a hill.

“May I take your coming all this way to mean you'll help us, Turan?”

“Yes. But... you're injured.”

“It's nothing serious.”

Maysa now wore bandages in several places, including her neck and shoulders.

“Don't tell me all the Healers died?”

“No, but plenty of people need them more urgently than I do. There's only so much mana available for healing. It should go to those who need it first.”

They were concentrating on treating those at death's door rather than Maysa's less serious injuries. Turan nodded while discreetly drawing in a breath. A fairly strong scent of blood, the smell of water and soap suggesting she had washed recently, and a faint trace of her own scent...

'It certainly isn't a trap.'

Maysa gave off none of the tension or excitement characteristic of a living creature facing an enemy. Other emotions were often difficult to identify by scent, but fear, tension, anger, and excitement rarely escaped him when he paid proper attention.

“Keorn explained everything, I take it?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then let's set off at once. I'd like to attack before they regain their strength, if possible.”

“Shouldn't you recover from your injuries as well, Miss Maysa?”

“It's fine. I hardly feel minor injuries anyway.”

However he looked at it, feeling no pain when injured hardly seemed a good sign. Still, it was difficult to object when she insisted that was how she was. A short while later, the three of them and their black eagle reached Arabion's camp some distance away.

“Ugh...”

“Bring more water over here!”

“Damn it, these bandages itch.”

The camp, full of injured wizards, was surprisingly well built, rather than a haphazard collection of tents. The knights had probably put it together in short order using stone and timber.

Brightly glowing magic-tool orbs were embedded everywhere, presumably as a precaution against anyone infiltrating under stealth magic. It was precisely the sort of paranoid measure one would expect from a house hostile to Zahar.

As the three landed in front of the camp, a group of Arabion nobles approached, including Kadram, whom Turan had met before. Unsurprisingly, the looks they directed at him were far from friendly.

“This is the man from last time, Maysa.”

“Yes. As I told you, he's my friend, and a friend of House Berg. That should be enough to trust him at our backs. You already know how much mana he has.”

“His strength is sufficient, but his background is the problem. A fallen noble who doesn't even know his own bloodline ability—isn't that suspicious? What will you do if he's some Zahar vermin in disguise?”

At that startlingly perceptive observation, Turan raised his hand. All eyes turned toward him.

“If you wish, I'll show you my bloodline ability.”

“Hmm?”

The Arabion nobles merely looked accepting, but Maysa, who had understood that he did not know his bloodline ability, was visibly surprised. Keorn even looked alarmed. He alone among them knew Turan possessed the Zahar bloodline.

Before their eyes, Turan casually snapped his fingers to conjure a flame, then stretched it into a long line in front of him. The fire soon disappeared, but a slender strand of mana remained in its place—though no one but him could see it.

He picked up a long branch from nearby and tossed it into the air. Flames flared up, burning the branch. By any measure, it was a flawless example of the magical traps unique to the Barrier-user bloodline.