Chapter 52

In Keorn the Hero, the play Turan had once watched, the war between the two great houses had consisted of scrupulously fair pitched battles. Armed knights clashed while nobles beside them vied for supremacy with fire and lightning.

The actual war, however, had been fought by far more sinister and underhanded means. First, Zahar's nobles approached under stealth to contaminate stores of food and water, or picked off and ambushed those who left the main force on scouting and messenger duties. At night, they repeatedly unleashed blatant magical assaults before fleeing, denying the enemy even a proper night's sleep.

Daylight, by contrast, belonged to Arabion. They advanced slowly but surely, illuminating their surroundings and replenishing dwindling supplies by all but forcing the houses ruling the lands they passed through to cooperate. Naturally, anyone who refused was unquestionably a Zahar lackey, and was burned to death by lightning.

Unable to wipe out every noble house along Arabion's route beforehand, Zahar changed its strategy as the enemy slowly approached. They dispatched small detachments of nobles and knights to invade Arabion's heartland directly.

These attacks chiefly targeted the small cities scattered across the Dakayn Plains. Attacking the main house, where the House Head might be waiting, was too risky, whereas the smaller cities lay defenseless with their nobles and knights conscripted.

The detachments slaughtered the few remaining nobles and knights and plundered the valuables in the central mansions. In the process, some took an interest in the women raised to become nobles' concubines.

Turan's mother, Bijella, had been a girl abducted from Kimel, a small city in the southern Dakayn Plains.

"Bijella?"

"Yes. Unless my memory fails me, that was certainly her name."

Turan repeated his mother's real name, which he had never heard before, and fell into thought. It certainly sounded far more upper-class than Vije. A little more feminine, too.

"I still remember her because she was a very unusual young lady."

"Unusual how?"

"Well, you see..."

While tending to the abducted women, Sarina had broadly divided them into two groups: those who submitted, and those who resisted.

The submissive ones, having given up any hope of returning home, tried desperately to charm a man into giving them something more than a life as breeding livestock. They fawned over the Zahar nobles and knights who had killed their families, seeking special treatment.

The resistant ones screamed that they would kill the enemies who had murdered their families, refusing food or trying to disfigure themselves to diminish their worth. Except for a few whose beauty was too exceptional to waste, they were all disposed of in various ways before long.

But Bijella belonged to neither group. As though she were visiting somewhere new on holiday, she spent all day exploring every place she was allowed to go, peppering the servants with questions.

Why did people here dress that way? What was this dish called, and how was it made? What were the names of the gods the people here worshipped...?

Once, another captive young lady scolded her, asking what on earth she was so excited about. Her answer had been something else.

["Isn't it fascinating that people live like this in places we know nothing about? At least it's better than being shut up at home doing nothing but fawning over people!"]

Naturally, this was profoundly insulting to young ladies who had spent their entire lives being trained to become nobles' concubines, and Bijella became an outcast even among them. As a result, Sarina, who waited on her, naturally grew close to her and heard many personal stories.

Bijella told her how she had wanted to become a merchant and travel the world since childhood, only for her father to slap her and declare it out of the question, and how the lessons at home bored her nearly to death.

"She said she was sad her family had all died, but they had never cared what she wanted anyway. Rather than spend her whole life shut up in that dreary mansion, she was glad she could see another world, even like this."

Listening to Sarina, Turan tried to imagine his mother twenty years younger, probably around his own age. A bizarrely eccentric, optimistic young lady who could declare that things weren't so bad even after losing her entire family and being abducted...

She bore no resemblance whatsoever to the weary, world-hating woman he remembered. What could possibly have happened to change that eccentric girl so completely?

"What about the man?"

Turan was just as eager to learn who his father was as he was to hear about his mother. Since his mother had been an Arabion knight's daughter, his father must have been a Zahar noble or knight.

The circumstances suggested a noble. To ordinary people, they were all lofty wizards, but nobles could hardly have looked kindly on a mere knight keeping a woman as a concubine. Besides, although mana was not inherited perfectly from one's parents, Turan's potential was far too great for a child born to a knight and a commoner.

"There was just one man who came to see her. A young man, though I don't know how old he actually was—"

"You mean he looked young. What did he look like? His name? Was he a knight or a noble?"

"I-I don't remember that much. There were so many people I served back then. I'm sorry..."

Turan clicked his tongue in disappointment, but soon accepted it. It was only natural, when he thought about it. Someone like that former innkeeper was exceptional; most people could not remember the face of someone they had glimpsed a few times twenty years ago.

"But I do remember a few things she said about the man she was seeing. That he was kind despite seeming rather brusque, and that they had promised to travel together someday. She didn't seem to dislike him."

When Sarina quietly added that she had seemed more like a girl in love, Turan felt an immense relief.

The fact that their first meeting had involved abduction was a problem in itself, but if there had at least been love between them, he felt that alone might let him accept his own existence. His mother had called his father a good man, but deep down, Turan had always suspected those were merely comforting words for her son's sake.

Sarina went on talking about Bijella. There was the time she had run around the mansion to build stamina for her travels, only to be mistaken for an escapee and locked in solitary confinement, and the time she had tried to learn to make fire by rubbing sticks together and set the garden ablaze. Turan gladly committed each of these stories to memory, smiling simply to hear them.

"She became pregnant perhaps three or four months before she ran away, and she said something like that even then. That all these things would come in handy when the three of them traveled together someday. I never imagined she would suddenly run away..."

One night, Sarina had gone outside the mansion on a minor errand and encountered Bijella on her way back. When she hurried to block her path, the startled Bijella stopped a horse she had stolen from who knew where and began to plead. Unlike her normally cheerful self, she looked utterly despondent.

"She begged me to pretend I hadn't seen her, so I asked her. Hadn't she said the three of them would travel together someday? Why was she running away now...?"

"And what did she say?"

"She said she'd seen the world as far more beautiful than it was. That there was no true freedom in this world, and in the end, we were all nothing more than livestock raised by shepherds. She said she couldn't give this child that same fate."

It was the same thing his mother had said when Turan first awakened his magical power. In the end, Sarina had turned a blind eye and let Bijella escape, and her story ended with the twenty years that had passed since.

Turan could surmise that his father had helped his mother escape. Otherwise, where could she have found a fine horse capable of carrying her thousands of kilometers, and how could she have shaken off Zahar's Pursuers?

"Well, was that satisfactory?"

Alos, who had been quietly listening behind them, spoke in a gently prompting tone. Turan hesitated a moment, then nodded. Given the circumstances, he was certain no other house could offer a more detailed account.

Simply knowing for certain that there was no point in looking for his mother's relatives was a substantial gain. He still did not know who his father—the Zahar noble or knight—was, or why he had not accompanied his mother, but he could probably learn that when he visited the Enril Desert later...

Above all, he had indirectly experienced a side of his mother's past he had never known. That alone was enough to satisfy him.

"From this moment on, Kalamap is yours. I ask that you govern it faithfully, in accordance with our agreement."

At Turan's answer, Alos smiled, showing his white teeth.

* * *

With matters settled at the top, Kalamap began preparations in earnest to transfer its governance to House Maburn. Some of Vigen's officials came over to take on various duties and inspect the city's condition. Without exception, they marveled at the documents they read.

"Good heavens. Are these figures even possible...?"

"It's as though a corpse has come back to life."

Judging by its population and financial records, Kalamap was nothing short of a city resurrected from the dead. All through the strength of a single man.

The man responsible for that miracle, Turan, was finishing his packing.

"Off traveling again. It'll be fun, won't it, Vije?"

[Where are we going?]

"To a place southwest of here called the Sky Library. Come to think of it, you won't be able to see the old librarian. I'm going to sneak in, so it might be hard to take you inside with me."

This time, he intended simply to slip in under stealth, finish his business, and leave. On his first visit, he had obtained formal permission because he worried there might be secret measures capable of detecting even Zahar's stealth. Now he knew there were none.

Given his current mana, the local House Head would hardly dare, but it would be a nuisance if the man started pestering him to marry his daughter again.

"Now that I think about it, we really have been here a long time."

Since setting out on his travels, his longest stay in any city had been the month he spent with House Berg. Somehow, he had spent two or three months here in Kalamap, making it his longest stop yet. Turan gave his now-familiar room in city hall one last look before opening the door and stepping out. Daruk, who had now stepped down as mayor, bowed to him.

"There you are, O Great Turan."

Having officially relinquished the position of Protector, he was now addressed as Great Turan. The man who had saved Kalamap from death, accomplishing a great deed other nobles would never dare attempt.

"You must be sorry you can't stay on as mayor."

"It was a position beyond my station anyway. Besides, I'm too old now."

Indeed, Daruk was sixty-five or sixty-six. For someone who was not a wizard, that was an age to be resting at home.

"First, please accept this."

"What's this?"

Daruk opened a chest that had been placed beside Turan's room, revealing a large quantity of gold and silver coins. Where had such a poor city found this wealth?

"The citizens collected it. It comes from selling the pelts of the animals you drove here, Great Turan, and the surplus building stone. In a sense, it is only returning to its rightful owner."

"Tell them to use it for the city."

"If it stays here, it will become House Maburn's property rather than the citizens'. Please do not refuse."

Turan looked at Daruk and realized that, just as before, he would not budge. Perhaps there were eight hundred gold coins and two thousand silver ones. It was an absurd amount to put in a backpack, but he had the High-Capacity Pouch Maysa had given him. Once Daruk saw him put the money away, he smiled.

"May I escort you outside one last time?"

"Of course."

As Turan followed him, he sensed the presence outside through his Holy Relic. Thousands of people stood in the square a short distance from city hall...

Exceptional perception was rather inconvenient at times like this. Surely this sort of thing was more delightful when it caught you by surprise.

["HURRAAAAAH!"]

As expected, Turan emerged from city hall to a tremendous crowd that seemed to include every citizen of Kalamap. Most were elderly people and children, survivors of the old Kalamap that had fallen into ruin.

They waved makeshift flags fashioned from sticks and cloth, crudely painted with a black eagle and a man like a coat of arms. There were also mortifying slogans such as "May Great Turan Live Forever" and "Our Savior."

"This is embarrassing."

"Please don't feel that way. Today, they have all gathered to praise a great man."

Turan surveyed the faces turned toward him. Boundless gratitude, sorrow at his departure, worship and praise... He had seen these reactions, sometimes positive and sometimes negative, over the past few months. Yet knowing he would no longer see them made him feel a fresh pang of regret.

'Did I actually enjoy being praised like this?'

Embarrassed at discovering this childish side of himself, Turan quickened his steps. After passing through the packed crowd, he approached the city gate and noticed something standing there.

As soon as the citizens waiting there saw him, they whisked away a white cloth to reveal a statue roughly three meters tall. A young man with a black eagle tucked at his side. It was a sculpture of Turan himself.

"... When on earth did you start this?"

"We made it in a hurry, so it's a little lacking, but we intend to replace it with a better one later. We've installed one at each of the four gates."

Daruk answered genially beside him. Turan would have noticed if he had passed through the gates even once, but apparently he had missed it because he always rode Vije. Then again, even if he had caught a glimpse, he would never have imagined they were statues of him. At most, he might have assumed they were putting up a new building.

"Won't House Maburn dislike this?"

"We obtained their permission beforehand. They were pleased, saying that leaving the statues would make it clear how governance of the city had passed to them."

"You're still struggling just to get by..."

"Aren't some things more important than life itself? For the citizens here, commemorating their savior is one of them."

["That's right!"]

Several citizens behind them shouted in agreement with Daruk. Having grumbled a few times out of sheer embarrassment, Turan fell silent, walked past the statue, and left through the gate.

In the distance stood the Gray Zone's now-familiar rocky mountains. He turned back one last time, intending to give an impressive speech, but perhaps the statue had overwhelmed him too much; nothing came to mind.

"Well, then... um, I thought of plenty of impressive things to say, but I can't remember them."

"What need is there for words? Everything you have done is far more precious."

Since when had this old man been so eloquent? Turan opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to say something, then told Vije to take off quickly. With the familiar sensation of weightlessness, the ground fell away in an instant.

Looking back, he saw some of the citizens finally shedding the tears they had held in.

And so the Savior of Kalamap left the city.