Chapter 54

Lifespan and vessels.

No matter how many times he reread it, the implications were clear. The Freyans had finite lifespans. They had not ascended, but died of old age.

Even the suggestion that some of them might still be alive in different bodies—every revelation was terrifying to contemplate sharing with the world.

“Do you happen to know who wrote this?”

“No. It was here before I came into existence. Had it been added later, I would at least remember who brought it in.”

However human his appearance and behavior, the librarian was a spirit that had come into being when the library was built. His knowledge extended only to events around the library and the contents of the books it housed. Unfortunately, there were no other books left by the owner of that handwriting.

“Still, thanks to you, I’ve learned something interesting. A lifespan, hmm. Now I understand why my creator seemed to be in such a hurry...”

The librarian nodded as though something had finally made sense and stroked his beard. Come to think of it, hadn’t he said the limping goddess had been terribly impatient when she created the library?

Presumably, she had come to build it knowing that her life was nearing its end. Why she would spend her final days creating a library was another mystery entirely.

Turan continued talking with the librarian about various things. They analyzed the principles of magic he had newly learned on his travels in terms of the laws of nature, and discussed the history of the lands he had passed through.

They also debated what any Freyans who had overcome the limits of their lifespans might be doing now, but reached no satisfactory conclusion. All they could say was that none had yet openly emerged to rule the world.

Then, as though something had just occurred to him, the librarian asked a question.

“Come to think of it, you sneaked in this time. Is that because you’ve joined the forces attacking this city?”

“Attacking?”

“Yes.”

This was news to Turan, and he shook his head.

“As I mentioned earlier, I flew straight here from far away, so I don’t know much about the situation here. Things did seem rather unsettled...”

“This city is at war. Though strictly speaking, it would be more accurate to say it has been dragged into one.”

Even recalling what he had seen from the sky on his way here, Turan could remember no particular signs of it. At most, there had seemed to be slightly fewer people about.

“Is this a war between wizard houses?”

“Yes. Apparently, all the wizard houses in the area have split into two factions, led by houses called Hadit and Corel, and are fighting each other.”

Hadit and Corel. He had heard those names before. Hadn’t they been mentioned as examples of feuding houses when he had invented a background for himself before the lord of Orem?

If it was a war between wizard houses, the lack of obvious signs of battle was hardly strange. Unlike the other races, they regarded enemy towns and villages as prizes to be seized. Of course, that would be different in a war as large as the one between Arabion and Zahar, but this seemed to be on a smaller scale.

“The other races are wiping out entire cities right next door, and humans are fighting each other in the middle of it...”

“As it happens, that seems to be what started the war.”

“Could you tell me more?”

“I’ve only picked up what people say around here, so I can’t be certain.”

According to the librarian, Hadit and Corel were houses that ruled two nearby cities. A little over a decade ago, some dispute had led them to war, and each had lost a couple of nobles and thirteen or fourteen knights. They had eventually managed to reach a truce, but naturally, deep resentment remained on both sides.

Then, several months ago, the Dark Elves had launched a full-scale invasion of the forest region to the east, only to be repelled by Arabion’s army. The area had become an attractive frontier for settlement. Simply establishing new colonies on the sites of former cities and shipping back large quantities of timber promised tremendous profits.

Every house in the area had organized an expedition to settle the unclaimed land. These consisted mainly of one or two nobles, a dozen or so knights, and displaced people who had fled the forest region.

“But in the course of all that, it seems the two houses began squabbling over who would claim which area, and came to blows again. Perhaps because there are profits at stake this time, it has grown larger than before. Now the houses around here have split into two camps.”

In this conflict, House Valtas, Orem’s rulers, had sided with House Hadit because the House Head’s wife came from that family. The problem was that Hadit was now on the verge of defeat.

With victory in its grasp, House Corel’s army was reportedly sweeping through the territories of houses in the opposing camp, demanding their surrender. Now it was nearly Orem City’s turn.

After hearing the full explanation, Turan let out a low groan.

“Hmm...”

Now he understood why the atmosphere in the city was so unsettled. If anything, it was surprising that they still had a knight guarding the library. Perhaps removing the knight would have revealed how desperate they were, and they wanted to keep up appearances.

“Well, isn’t that how people are? If I remember correctly, the current lot have had their run for about four hundred years. It’s about time for a change.”

The librarian treated it as nothing remarkable, saying that wars like this had always happened. That was understandable for someone who had lived for thousands of years and seen the city change hands time and again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t stay in this area too long. I might get dragged into something needless.”

Even wizards rarely looked up at the sky, so riding Vije probably hadn’t drawn much attention. Still, it seemed wise to be careful. Where should he go, then?

Sitting in his chair, Turan pondered his options. He thought it would be best to wait another year or two before returning to the Enril Desert. Perhaps he could travel through the south...

“Ugh.”

Just then, a sharp surge of emotion pierced him from within, drawing an involuntary groan. Pain and terror intense enough to make him reel, and a desperate longing for someone...

‘Vije?’

Those were the emotions of Vije, his soul-bound companion. Turan sprang to his feet and called to the librarian.

“Something urgent has come up. I have to go!”

“Very well. Come again.”

Before the librarian had even finished his leisurely reply, Turan had cast stealth magic and rushed out of the library.

Activating Search magic, he caught Vije’s scent and a faint smell of blood from the east. Since her emotions were still reaching him, she at least appeared to be alive.

He immediately cast flight magic and rose into the sky, heading east. Behind him, the knight guarding the library grimaced at the sudden gust.

* * *

‘It was only an hour or two...’

Turan clicked his tongue as he flew. Vije was a monster powerful enough that most nobles would have trouble catching her, so he had left her to amuse herself. To think this could happen in such a short time. Considering that he had once left her alone for days in the Enril Desert without incident, he could only call it bad luck.

He had a good idea who had subdued Vije: the nobles of House Corel, currently rampaging through the area. Given the circumstances, there were no other likely culprits.

Following the scent, he soon spotted an encampment containing a hundred or so people. Unlike Arabion’s army, these troops were housed in tents.

‘Eight nobles and thirty-five knights...’

Using the Holy Relic’s senses, Turan assessed the camp’s situation precisely. The unusually high proportion of nobles was probably because their objective was to force submission rather than conquer.

Entering the camp under stealth, he saw a large woman holding Vije in one hand and passing her to a black-haired nobleman. Her mana was slightly more than half of Turan’s current reserves, making her quite formidable among the heads of ordinary wizard houses. She appeared to be the camp’s commander.

“What have you brought this time, sister?”

“A monster. I spotted it on the way and caught it. Make sure it’s locked up.”

“It’s much stronger and fiercer than it looks. See? It scratched me right here!”

A noble standing beside the large woman, apparently one of her companions, showed off a forearm with a boastful air. Ignoring this, the black-haired noble questioned the commander.

“Why not just kill it and take its mana?”

“I’m giving it to my son. If I kill it now, it’ll turn into a wraith before I get home.”

“Aha... Wait, sister. It looks like this one has an owner.”

The black-haired noble exposed Vije’s ankle as he spoke. The cord Turan had tied there to keep her from being mistaken for a wild black eagle dangled from it. But the apparent commander merely snorted and shook her head, as though she already knew.

“Oh, that? Untie it and throw it away if it bothers you.”

“Are you sure that’s all right? What if it belongs to some great house...?”

“Why would a creature like that be in a backwater like this? Don’t worry about it. At most, someone on Hadit’s side paid a fortune for it. Nobody on our side keeps monsters anyway, do they?”

“Well, that’s true.”

Apparently satisfied, the black-haired noble nodded and burned away the cord tied around Vije’s ankle. She let out sharp cries, but could put up little resistance, perhaps because one of her wings was bent at an unnatural angle.

At the sight, Turan felt not a flare of anger but a startling calm. It was as though his fury had burned away every emotion, leaving only reason behind.

A moment later, still concealed, he followed the noble carrying Vije to a tent in a corner of the camp. The black-haired man began fashioning a small cage on the spot, heating thick metal rods and bending them into shape.

“Hmm, with its wing broken, this should be enough... I’ll put a knight on guard... Huh?”

What puzzled the black-haired noble was the shadow he noticed behind him. Turning, he saw a young man with gray hair and eyes. Had there been someone like this in their army? No, more importantly, how had he entered the tent without a sound—

“Excuse me. That black eagle is my friend. May I take her with me?”

“Uh, what? That’s a problem. My sister caught it.”

The black-haired noble found himself responding foolishly to the stranger’s abrupt request. An outsider had suddenly appeared inside a tent in the middle of their encampment and was politely asking him to return the bird their commander had caught... It was a development he had never imagined, and for a moment his mind failed to keep up.

At the same time, he instinctively projected his mana toward the stranger, but for some reason received no response. In wizard society, projecting mana at someone was a demand: I’ll show you how strong I am, so show me how strong you are.

There were two main reasons someone might fail to respond. Either they were an ordinary human who could not sense mana at all, or they were a wizard so pitifully weak that they dared not openly display their reserves.

As his head cleared a little, the black-haired noble considered the possibility that this fellow was nothing special, merely bluffing in a desperate attempt to retrieve his animal. Still, there was some risk, so he asked a question to handle the matter cautiously.

“F-first, who are you? Your name, I mean. Your name.”

“I don’t think who I am matters. She is precious to me, so please return her. If you do, I won’t hold you responsible for breaking her wing.”

Those words convinced the black-haired noble. This fellow was, at best, a knight or a bottom-rung noble even weaker than himself. Otherwise, surely he would have displayed his strength and demanded the bird’s immediate return, threatening him with, Do you know who I am?

“And if I refuse—”

He was about to add, What will you do about it? when he realized the stranger had vanished. What? Had he imagined him? Or else—

Before he could finish the thought, the world spun. The last thing he saw was his own headless body.

* * *

Turan looked coldly down at the decapitated noble sprawled on the ground. Strong or weak, he would have spared the man if he had at least acknowledged his wrongdoing and shown some remorse. Having failed even that, the man was nothing but a robber—a wolf to be hunted.

Turning away from the headless corpse, Turan sheathed his dagger, sat beside Vije, and stroked her head. Joy flooded through their soul bond.

[Turan, I hurt! These people are bad!]

“I’m sorry I left you alone. Did they attack you first?”

[Yes!]

Reading the words written on the ground, he let out a hollow laugh. He had expected as much, but still... Attacking and abducting a monster clearly marked as belonging to someone, then planning to use her as prey—there could be no clearer case of robbery.

Turan took out the Mimic Holy Relic and drank about a quarter of its Healer Bloodline mana. He felt that bloodline’s mana filling his body.

‘This should be enough.’

An ordinary creature would have required far less, but healing a magical creature took more mana. He placed his hand against the twisted wing and exerted his power. Soon, it began to shift back into place.

CRACK

Before long, fully healed, Vije radiated joy as she wrote.

[It doesn’t hurt anymore!]

“I’m glad. Did it hurt a lot, Vije?”

[Yes! But it’s okay! Turan saved me!]

Then she suddenly swept away those words with her other foot and made a more vulnerable plea.

[Together from now on! Don’t go alone!]

“I won’t.”

Being left alone and nearly killed seemed to have shaken her badly. Even after climbing onto the perch at his side, Vije kept rubbing her head against him. After comforting her for a while, Turan left the tent, his face cold and rigid.

It was time to make the kidnappers pay.