Feathered Scouts and the Manticore Hunt
The Order of Saint Santiago erupted in cheers upon hearing the news of Ian's arrival.
"With our brother by our side, there's nothing to fear!"
"Let's unleash heaven's will to our heart's content!"
From the knights' perspective, more mages were always better. The more cards you held, the stronger your hand, right?
As the Elder grinned from ear to ear, Ian felt a twinge of annoyance.
"You saw this coming, didn't you, old timer?"
"More or less. I figured if you had a connection with Mani, you'd tag along."
Ian couldn't stay mad at the man's innocent expression. Truth be told, it wasn't a bad deal. The knights would handle the fighting up front, while he and Mani lobbed a few spells from the rear. And with Mani offering to critique his magic, it was basically free expert advice.
Mages usually didn't need pointers from others. Why follow someone else's advice when you were the one bonding with the mysteries? It wasn't like you studied up specially before making a new friend—you just clicked and hung out. That said, advice from the same school of magic was meaningful. For instance, if the mystery you'd befriended liked a certain offering, others in the same school probably did too. Like how most cats went nuts for churu. Sure, there might be a few oddballs (were there?), but since nearly all cats loved it, the tip "bring churu to win over cats" held real weight.
"Rest up well today. We'll head out at first light tomorrow," Mani declared, generously offering to supply all the knights' food and drink. He couldn't provide beds, though, so they'd camp in front of the cabin.
"Can't just send my friend's disciple away empty-handed. Ian, Eredis's apprentice—what do you want to eat?"
Mani asked kindly, and Ian replied without hesitation.
"Garlic stew... I mean, soup."
"???"
Mani recoiled, recalling how Ian had devoured that garlic stew like a madman.
"You want that?"
"Yeah. It was delicious."
Ian's eyes sparkled with pure innocence—the gaze of a clear-eyed lunatic. Mani blinked in shock once more. He'd thought Ian was faking enjoyment! It wasn't an act?!
The next day, the knights geared up and headed into the forest where the manticore was said to lurk. Hunting was unpredictable—you might bag your prey today or tomorrow, or it could drag on for a week or two. So they packed rations and camping gear thoroughly.
...Lucy's probably waiting, Ian thought anxiously. But she needed time too—to sort out the situation with the count and muster mercenaries. No reason to catch hell for being a bit late. Worst case, she'd ditch him and go on without!
"Eerie place," the Elder summed up the forest's vibe perfectly. It was oppressively gloomy, just as described.
"Mani, no detection spells in your repertoire?"
Ian asked just in case. The old mage might have some unique trick up his sleeve. But Mani shot him an incredulous look.
"How's a geokinetic supposed to track a manticore? It's not like the thing grazes on plants."
"Ah. Right."
"You'll be way better at scouting than me. You're a summoner, aren't you?"
Ian shrugged. Thanks to that one drake, summoning had become his strongest suit.
"Caw! Caw!"
Oberon flapped his wings noisily.
"Damn it, shedding feathers everywhere, you lunatic."
"...?"
Ian eyed Oberon steadily. The raven's wings looked fully healed, yet he wasn't returning to the wild?
"Why am I your master?"
What the hell? Ian glared sourly, but Oberon shamelessly met his gaze. Perched on Ian's shoulder all that time, the raven had picked up human speech almost flawlessly. Not that Oberon was a super-genius crow—it was Ian's summoning magic at work. As a level 3 summoner, Ian unconsciously projected his will onto nearby animals. Oberon had eavesdropped diligently, grasping human language effortlessly. Once he got the meanings, mimicking the sounds came naturally.
Oberon cawed on.
"Smart bird."
In short: free meals kept him around. He liked it here, so he appointed himself Ian's servant.
Suddenly, Ian felt eyes on him. Turning, he saw the entire order—Mani included—watching breathlessly.
The Elder spoke for them. "Well? Ian. Find anything?"
"Oh."
They'd thought he was casting some spell. Ian felt sheepish. He'd just been chatting with a crow. But he couldn't say that outright, so he dressed it up a bit.
"He says he wants to earn his keep."
"Oh? This crow?"
The knights marveled at the "magic," no matter how many times they'd seen it. A human talking to a raven? Mani alone seemed unimpressed, nodding approvingly as Ian directed the bird.
Definitely a solid mage.
Communing with animals without Maronius Language meant Ian's grasp of the mysteries was advanced. A fine pick for Eredis's disciple, Mani thought.
"Oberon, wings all good? You can fly solo now?"
Oberon flapped confidently. Ian sent him to recon the area, expecting a quick return. But the sun was nearly set when he came back.
"What took so long?"
The knights, having finished scouting and set up camp, watched quietly as Ian conversed with the raven.
"They here now? Bring 'em if they are."
Oberon let out a piercing caw, and over a dozen birds fluttered down from the trees—sparrows, quails, kestrels, doves, and more. A full bird club meetup.
"Hm. Definitely 'bird' friends."
No birds got Ian's refined humor, sadly. Faker would've cracked up—the guy's taste matched his character.
The birds chirped their pieces. Ian grasped the gist, though none matched Oberon's free-flowing chatter. Simple info-sharing sufficed: the manticore was holed up deep in the northern foothills.
"Good work, Oberon."
Oberon cawed bashfully. Best not to question how a crow blushed.
"Yeah?"
Predictable. Info wasn't free. Ian dug out birdseed without complaint. The intel was worth far more than the feed.
The birds scarfed it down happily and dispersed—mostly the carnivorous raptors. Smaller ones like sparrows and quails stuck close to Ian, wary of becoming breakfast for the predators.
"They not heading home?"
True to crow reputation for nastiness, Oberon tossed out the thuggish word without flinching. Crow cartel material.
"Nah, Oberon. You brought 'em, so you watch 'em. Get what I mean?"
Ian shared the intel with the knights. The whole order—including the Elder and Mani—stared in wonder.
"What?"
"Sounds like an excuse, but this old man's impressed by your competence."
"Cut the flattery, old timer. Competence, my ass."
Chatting with birds was pocket change for Ian. But to others? Unheard of. How does a human talk to birds? Magic, that's how.
Truly a remarkable young man.
The Elder smiled warmly at Ian. In his youth, battlefield mages were mostly pains. Enemy ones pulled dirty tricks; allies acted like loose cannons. Mages were eccentric. Plenty faked it, but most became mages because they were oddballs—living closer to mysteries than people warped their sense of human norms.
Yet this young mage, Ian Eredis Raven, stood apart. Talented but humble, polite, unpretentious. Mages knew they were special and strutted accordingly—the real arrogance grated. Few played it off like "Eh, my magic's nothing special~" like Ian. Eredis's disciple, huh? The Elder figured she must be a fine mage with solid character.
"Your achievements are astounding. It took me ten years of probing plant mysteries to hear a garden sprout's voice. You've reached bird-conversing mastery in under a year."
"Thanks for saying so."
Mani smiled at Ian's humility. No need for mage ego games—that was for nobles. Respect mattered more among peers. Ian's modesty charmed him.
Mani offered his highest praise: "Eredis would be proud."
Ian grinned awkwardly. All for a bird chat? Why the fuss?
"Anyway... manticore's hiding in the northern foothills. Exact spot unknown, but at dawn, these bird buddies'll lead us right to it."
Ian's "friends" chirped agreement.
"See? With a mage, we're golden."
"We'd be screwed without him..."
The next day, Ian paid the birds their seed wages and deployed them for the search. Foreman Oberon directed the flock after the manticore's trail. Results came fast.
"Oberon spotted the manticore. Let's move, everyone."
The rested knights rose, following Ian as guide. As they neared the lair, Ian felt skin-crawling killing intent. Strong enough they'd have found it without birds.
"Ian."
The Elder's face was graver than usual.
"From here on, never leave my side. Same for Lady Mani."
"Understood."
Mages sucked at close combat—a gamer truth from JRPGs that held here too. Medieval fantasy mages skipped fight training. Made sense: why box if you're a lit PhD prof? Sure, it let you deck argumentative students, but studying advanced your realm faster.
"Hey, Elder."
Ian ventured. "If the manticore's a monster... maybe I can talk it down?"
The Elder looked skeptical; Mani, dismissive.
"Ian, I get you're a top summoner, but manticores don't negotiate."
"But you don't know summoning, Mani."
"...I may not know summoning, but I know mysteries, boy! Who you calling a doddering geezer?!"
Different specialties, but Mani was a geokinetic master. Magic stemmed from mystery chats. And this world teemed with human-speaking beings who didn't communicate. Manticores qualified.
"Convince one, and I'll tell Eredis pronto."
"...?"
Ian didn't get it. But facing the manticore cleared it up.