Endless Banquet and Swordmaster's Secret
The banquet dragged on for days. The knights gorged themselves on food and drink until they were sick of it. Eating massive amounts was a virtue among medieval knights. Just like how a mage's reputation soared the more eccentric they were, knights gained respect the more they could stuff down. The reason? Purely medieval logic. Eat a lot = strong as an ox. That was the gist of it.
If that logic held, food fighters like Tzuyang would be reincarnations of Hercules, historical powerhouses of raw strength... But without nitpicking, the common image was clear: big guys eat big. You could tell at a glance. So the knights devoured their meals like they were showing off their physical prowess. Whoa! He ate a whole roast pig by himself! How strong must that guy be?! Something like that.
Ian, deep in his eccentric mage cosplay, figured if knights could play the glutton role, why not? "Longken and his brothers are staying with the count," the count had been buttering up the Santiago Knight Order throughout the feast. The Order of Saint Santiago was the capital's knight order, affiliated with the Holy Order. To become a holy knight, you joined the Order, proved your worth, and received holy arms. The process was supposed to be rigorous, but for various reasons, talent often fast-tracked admission. Fight well enough, and they'd overlook a lack of piety.
And the Holy Order? Withdrawal was basically free rein. Entry had procedures, but quitting rarely came with questions. Lay return for monks was called "returning to the world." Knights like those in Saint Santiago often "returned" upon finding a good lord. Or they joined holy orders to build fame first, hunting beasts to make a name, then pledging to a suitable lord as secular knights. From the Order's view, it was a clear loss of manpower. But what could they do? The Holy Order was, simply put, like a club—a mountaineering group or cycling club. If members stopped showing up, the club couldn't force them.
If they hated losing talent, they wouldn't have let knights wander the continent. Hunting beasts in God's name without pay? Think of it as their reward. So when word spread that the Longken brothers were leaving the Santiago Order, the other knights took it in stride.
"Truth be told, I'm joining them."
"Not a bad choice. Count Catania seems generous and big-spending."
Lords evaluated vassals, but vassals sized up lords too. Lords and knights were bound by contract, after all. Thus, magnanimity and extravagance were key virtues for lords. No wonder the big-eared guy from Romance of the Three Kingdoms cosplayed as a paragon—drawing in more followers meant doing whatever it took.
Count Catania called each knight forward, lavishing rewards as "manticore hunt bonuses." Bait, of course, to lure them into his service. Those who bit became his new retainers. Mage Mani got her share too—a firm promise from the count of no priestly meddling for the foreseeable future. She'd keep quietly farming in her forest as always.
Ian received riches and treasures too. The standout? A scroll gilded with gold.
"What do you think? Like it?"
Seeing Ian stare holes through the scroll, Count Catania smirked inwardly. Among his treasures, this was a true gem—worth a fortune. Sell it, and you could buy a village! Why so pricey? It was a magic scroll from the ancient Golden Empire, crafted for the imperial court.
Mages... hopeless when it comes to this stuff, the count thought, assuming Ian was hooked.
Of course! How rare and expensive!
...But contrary to expectations, Ian felt only pure scholarly curiosity.
This is...
The count knew only that it dated to the Golden Empire era. But as a mage, Ian saw more.
Written in Maronius Language.
The scroll poetically petitioned the winds. A mass wind-summoning scroll, by the looks. Ian marveled at its mechanics. Sentences were split in half; join them by tearing, and it activated. No effect intact, power unleashed when torn. Plus, ancient mages' script was archaic and elegant. Any STEM nerd like Ian would lose it!
Damn... the prose is insane.
With writing like that, even the mystery would be moved to lend power.
"Thank you for this priceless gift."
Ian bowed in thanks, and the count laughed heartily. "Nothing to it! I've got plenty more magic items! No need to feel burdened!"
Classic humblebrag. You guys give me gold? Scrolls? Is this okay? You have tons of magic stuff... Community ban bait for sure. His treasury did hold many scrolls—mostly fakes, overflowing with them.
"You've done more than enough already. Slaying the monster, and safely escorting my niece too."
At his signal, a silk-clad woman approached gracefully. Lucy Talian herself.
Ian struggled not to laugh at her outfit—fashion sense horrific by modern standards. The flowing dress? Fashion-show viable. But the tall conical hat? Why wear that?!
Whoa! Witchy girl with the hat! Even Lucy's beauty couldn't save it; Ian felt zero spark.
"My niece has told me much about you."
Lucy gave a tiny, ladylike smile—prim niece cosplay. Ian got it completely. If he could play grumpy mage, why couldn't she play sweet niece?
"I have a proposal for you."
"Speak."
"On the way to aid my niece, lend her your strength."
That was the point of the lavish gift from the start—make refusal awkward.
"If it goes well, the reward won't disappoint. What say you?"
Linked quest, as expected.
He'd half-guessed, but finishing the domain war felt like quest completion. Not bad for Ian. Mysteries could wait. No frontline suicide mission. He'd supported in the manticore hunt fine. Mages backed up with spells. And quests? The final reward was always sweetest.
Reclaim Lucy's domain, collect from both count and her. Win-win.
"If a humble mage like me can help."
"Nonsense! Who calls you humble? Your power is renowned!"
The count panicked, hyping Ian to avoid more antics. Humble mages were trickier than arrogant ones.
With Ian's firm yes, the count geared up for war. Three days later, the Santiago knights departed Catania lands.
Busy with expedition prep, the count sent Ian and Lucy to see them off.
"So that's Baroness Talian..."
The Santiago Order headed for new quests, now a purer pilgrimage after secular departures. No shock at "Baron" Lucy.
"Figured it was a fake identity..."
Lucy offered extra pay; they refused. "Wealth weighs down the body."
"Visit Talian domain someday; you'll be welcomed."
The elder grinned. "Hope not."
This time, he offered Ian a handshake. "Come to Tripalo Island sometime."
"Tripalo?"
"One of the Coral Sea isles... a bit far. But you're a mage, no?"
Mystery-hunting might take him to the Coral Sea eventually.
"I can tell you this: I'm Salvador of House Orcus. Say you seek Salvador; all will welcome you."
"Salvador... Got it."
Lucy, overhearing, gasped. "Salvador of Orcus...! The 'White Wolf' Salvador?!"
White Wolf? Ian eyed the elder—no, Salvador. Wolfish? Maybe. White? His hair, sure.
"Hoho, no need to remember an old man's name."
Ian nudged Lucy. "White Wolf? Who's that?"
"You don't know the White Wolf Brotherhood?"
She stared like he'd emerged from a cave... then realized he had, shook her head. Mages might not.
"He's the famous Swordmaster."
"...What?"
Ian blinked. He'd heard "Swordmaster" plenty. Whoa! Swordmaster! Aura blades, dragon fights!
...Fantasy novel stuff, not reality.
Lucy meant a title. "Long ago, during Emperor Sharkline I's wars with the lords, the White Wolf Brotherhood served as his direct mercenary force."
Hence "Imperial Army" nickname. Fifty-year ties kept them loyal to the emperor alone.
"The emperor granted their leader the honorable title 'Swordmaster.'"
She pointed. "...Former leader of the White Wolf Brotherhood. Swordmaster Salvador."
Lucy sensed an indescribable aura. A living legend, worthy of the name—Swordmaster Salvador. Victory in countless wars for the emperor, rising to inner circle with sword alone. Yet he cast it off to aid holy knights wandering for humanity.
Even border nobles like Lucy knew his fame empire-wide. Hence the hidden identity.
No TV or radio; tales spread orally, like old stories mouth-to-mouth. Lucy grew on nanny's imperial hero tales. Salvador appearing was like a superhero leaping from film.
"Hm. I see."
...Zero impact on Ian. To a modern reincarnate, local heroes were meh. Salvador? Just a spry old man. Very spry.
But Ian's nonchalance charmed Salvador.
"Knew you wouldn't care."
"Huh? About what?"
"Hoho. Things like that."
He'd seen too many idiots charging blindly for glory. 'Beat a Swordmaster lol'—knights risking lives for that line! So he hid his name. Not for power plays. Sick of fools, Ian's straightforward vibe was refreshing.
Smart mages over dumb knights any day!
"Visit Tripalo; I'll show you a mystery you'd like."
"Ooh? What kind?"
"Hoho. Spoilers kill the fun."
Tell me or I won't go, Ian thought. But mages brimmed with curiosity—stronger than survival instinct. Salvador was sure Ian would come.
Ian was more tourist-curious about southern empire than mysteries, really.
"Well... farewell."
The Order vanished over the horizon. Ian waved vigorously, as did Salvador and the knights.
Dihitri, last at Ian's side, spoke. "Ian, you are surely a divine apostle. I'll report every miracle to the Order—visit us."
That again...
Dihitri had glimpsed something at death's door, but what? Ian knew the "mystery" he'd experienced but didn't chide the rambling. He understood.