Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: Chapter 11. The Mage of Mages (30)
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The journey down the Ryan River toward the southwestern empire, where Storm Hill lay, was nothing short of pure peace itself.
Crunch crunch!
“Kreeeeeeek!!!!”
Splash! Spiiiish!
“Gerrrk! Grrk! Gruuurk grrrk!”
“Goddamn! Don’t these frog bastards have brains? We’ve beaten them so hard the river reeks of fish, and they’re still charging in?”
“According to my personal research, the monster known as the ‘Maelog’ lacks the intelligence level to be classified as a sapient race. So, what you just said is rational from an intellectual standpoint—”
“Yggdrasil! Behind you! Behind behind behind!!!!”
Pew!
“Gek! Grrrk....”
...Well, peaceful compared to our journey so far, anyway.
Maelog. According to the info Dana sent, they were the largest aquatic population in the tributaries of the Ryan River here—bipedal, muscle-bound frog-like creatures that lived in groups.
I naturally assumed “aquatic” meant they had some kind of command structure, like intelligent beings.
And who am I? None other than the hero officially dispatched by the Church of Luminance to shatter decades of racial discrimination against other species!
When I spotted their tents made from fish skin—territory markers—I trusted in my three-inch tongue, which had served me countless times before, and my body, which could now shrug off most attacks, and dove straight into their lair. I’d gained some confidence by then, thinking maybe these guys could get along with humans.
My mistake, though. For one, they didn’t speak the common tongue. They weren’t a society of intelligent beings—just a filthy huge pack of beasts with aggression that rivaled mutants.
I realized my error the moment I saw up close that the frames of those fish-skin tents were made from familiar human femurs.
So I beat down every last one there, washed their filthy fluids off in the river, and then more came charging in, drawn by the smell. Killing those brought more, lured by the fluids from their corpses.
They couldn’t inflict a speck of damage on our boat—not with thorned clubs or poison-tipped spears—thanks to our two water mages and the elf’s mid-tier water spirit.
“Whew. Got ’em all?”
“Seems.... like it.”
Beating down hundreds of man-sized frogs every morning, noon, and night, with their fluids and corpses turning the river surface into a sticky mess, wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. It even killed my appetite, despite my plans for a gourmet trip using Dana’s recipes.
In the end, unlike our leisurely start, Ottoman, Yggdrasil, and I pushed the boat like mad with magic and spirit arts, breaking through the river. We reached the rocky zone entrance just three days after leaving the Borderlands. The already exhausted party was utterly drained, and the complaints poured down on me. Especially from Lucilla, who’d lent us the boat.
“Ughhh.... We have to return this boat, but it’s covered in Maelog fluids....”
“I’ll clean it. Pull up some water and scrub it down—it’ll be spotless in no time.”
“Spotless my ass! Hero, didn’t you see every Maelog from the Ryan’s mouth to its source come swarming because you killed a few? A boat soaked in that stuff is just mutant bait! I told you not to go!”
“Hah, hahaha.... As the Hero of Luminance, my pure intent was to spread the light....”
“Shut up, you idiot!”
Clang!
We unloaded the cargo, reloaded onto our sturdier, bigger cart, and hit the road again, with Lucilla hurling stuff that I blocked with my body.
Today, we’d rest in a nearby village, then tomorrow, we’d storm that wind mage’s lair for real.
****
Wind Hailen.
A fairly large village for its size, but not quite big enough to call a town.
My first impression was that it felt like a place inhabited by oddly enlightened folk.
The moment we entered, I had a prepared speech ready: we weren’t suspicious, we were on church business, just passing through, no need to fear—thanks to our freakish crew....
But the merchants selling at the market.
The local kids playing with pig bladders.
The women carrying water jars.
All of them just smiled kindly, greeted us warmly, and moved on—no special stares at our bizarre group.
Even the inn we found—recommended by Dana’s info as decent—was a step beyond.
“Heh heh heh. Welcome! Welcome to Wind Hall Inn. Party of.... seven, eh? Troll, elf, werewolf.... Looks like those two in the back are mages? Any specific room preferences? We’ve got three basement rooms, the whole second floor open, and a room right behind this stove with the wall opened up. Just say the word, and we’ll prep whatever you need.”
“Uh.... We don’t really need anything special—”
“Oh. Must be all that mage tower proximity—well prepared. Alright, two standard rooms, two with exposed irrigation setups, one big for the troll, and.... Aldrich. Anything special for you?”
“Uh, hmm. Well, black mages don’t get to stay in nice inns often, so.... Dark would be good. Pitch black, no light at all.”
“Got it! Third floor corner, no windows!”
“That’s the plan. And anything for elves?”
“Ahem. We don’t go that far....”
“Fair enough. Three standards it is.”
A suspiciously casual inn that treated our freakish group like nothing and even had custom setups ready.
And Ottoman using them like it was normal.
While Lucilla and Borca stashed gear in the warehouse, Professor cornered Ottoman for answers.
“W-What’s going on here? Did they know we were coming and prep for us?”
“Hm? No way. How fast we got here from Sigfillund? No need for a village inn to bother.”
“Then.... what’s with these sketchy setups?”
“What else? Villages crawling with mages are all like this.”
Ottoman’s explanation was a sight to behold.
This village, closest to Storm Hill, was full of citizens who were pros at “handling mages”—seasoned in dealing with those crazy wind mages, with lifestyles adapted accordingly.
“Not to this extent, but Tobrune had similar spots. Think about it. The Lead Flow Mage Tower in Tobrune got fresh fish and water plants daily, right? Same idea—lots of mage-friendly facilities. Inns built over channeled river water, like that. This is just more of the same.”
“No way. I’ve heard of mage-custom spots near towers, but this level? Hits different as a black mage.”
Aldrich shook his head at the food laid out before we even ordered, once we sat.
The innkeeper had flexed some creativity based on Aldrich’s dark preferences: a full spread of shade-grown mushrooms, ferns, and burrow-rabbit dishes, mouthwatering stuff. A black mage who’d never seen such tailored service was on the verge of tears, magic compatibility aside.
The rest got perfect matches too: fresh fruits and veggies for Yggdrasil; near-blue-rare, bloody steaks for Borca and Notum; raw fish mains for Ottoman and Professor, naturally.
The fact that a non-mage owner clocked our traits and knew exactly how to respond showed how much this inn—and village—had endured those quirky wind mages and survived.
Bang!
“Herooooo! This insane inn jacked up the warehouse and room fees five times! Five times! Even with no other villages around, that’s highway robbery—”
“Five times? Positively ethical.”
“Ten, twenty times would be fine. This place.... worth every coin. Should carve a necromancy ward on the threshold on our way out. Hm.”
“Grurk. Tired of fish. Raw meat good. Effort rewarded. Fair merchant. Rare. Gruk.”
“Huh? What???”
While clueless “normal” Lucilla panicked, the crew—used to hassles everywhere due to their quirks—lavished praise on Wind Hall Inn for once, savoring the perfect service.
The innkeeper, watching them, kept that unchanging warm smile.
Like he wouldn’t drop his guard for a second, desperately maintaining the service.
And so, a day in the village built for mages, by mages, faded into dusk.
****
“Gruuuuuh—haaaah!!!”
Six a.m., as usual. Waking utterly refreshed for once, Professor dunked himself in the water flowing underfoot.
Splash!
“Uwoooo.... Bliss. Who said ley lines are bad? Bury me on the one that flows strongest!”
Thought it’d just be a room with good water access, but nope: bed and small table aside, the whole floor was excavated. A massive clay pipe from upstream ran under the inn, giving water mages the feel of sleeping riverside. Custom heaven.
Click!
Opening the window let in chilly winter wind, but even that felt refreshing.
Whoosh—
Crisp morning air.
Trickle trickle—
Little stream underfoot, perfect.
Flutter! Thud! Flaaap!
Paper scraps fluttering like snow in the winter sky were.... also....
“Huh?”
What the? Paper?
Thought it was a hallucination, washed my face, looked again.
Flaaap!
Whip! Whiiiip!
Flutter flutter!
No illusion. Papers of all kinds rode the wind, swarming one way.
Tiny crumpled scraps to large scrolls with red ribbons and seals—fancy letters. All sorts swimming through the sky, noisily rousing the early dawn.
Flutter—flutter flutter—
A small one fluttered butterfly-like past me. Reached out absentmindedly....
“Whoaaa!”
Patpatpatpat!
“S-Stop that hand right now!!!!!!”
“Wah! What the fu—waaaah!”
Clang!!
Crash clatter!
As I nearly grabbed it, the innkeeper hurled himself through the window like a madman, making me drop it.
“Huff, huff, huff,”
“W-What the hell? In—”
“That’s my line! Are you insane? Trying to ruin me?!!!”
Gone was the ever-smiling innkeeper from yesterday; a bald guy drenched in cold sweat, eyes wide in terror, shook me by the collar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Touching a ‘Felix’s Gift’?! Dying to see what happens when mages come down from Home Felix?!”
“No, I just wondered what it was....”
“You came all this way without knowing about 8th-circle wind mage Felix Drixiel and his legacy?”
“Uh.... Well....”
It was in the docs, but marked ‘unreliable,’ ‘rumor-based.’ Source: [Colorful Heavenly Demon’s Wanderings], huge red sticker, so I skipped for later. Been hectic getting here, tons of other intel to check. Obviously stuff like “Yas addict grandpa’s travels” was less urgent than current 3rd Empire succession politics, right? Not like I could read it all.
As I explained defensively, contempt joined the terror in his eyes.
“Never seen such reckless fools.... Then why the hell are you even here?”
“Uh.... To visit ‘Felix Home’ on Storm Hill. Got business with those folks.”
Crash!
“G-Get out! Scram, you jinxes! How’ve I kept this inn running? Our family’s haven amid those mages!!!! Can’t let it end like this. Never! Out! Get out nowwww!!!!”
Just as he seemed to calm, another fall, and his patience snapped for good.
****