Episode 56: I Get the Backstory
Ian got the story. The fact that this Fairy Queen wanted to guard the baron's corpse even after death, like some obsessive female lead from a Novelpia fixation novel. But that was that, and this was this.
"Damn, getting a peek at one sword is such a pain in the ass," Ian grumbled.
If the magic sword had been sealed away with the baron's body, the situation would have been a real headache. Messing with the coffin might trigger the Fairy Queen's curse, after all.
But luckily, things were in Ian's favor.
"Isn't that it?"
In one corner of the cemetery stood a massive mural, flanked by items the baron must have used in life, neatly displayed.
Ian had seen scenes like this plenty of times back in the modern world.
Museum... yeah.
It was just like a folk museum exhibiting old folks' belongings. The tomb builders weren't curators, but the intent was clearly to praise and commemorate the deceased.
There was a mural of the baron slicing off a monster's head, with the Fairy Queen gazing up at him.
"This one?"
"Looks like it?"
"Has to be this, right?"
Ian slowly scanned the baron's armaments.
The sword, armor, clothes, jewels he'd carried in life—all rusted and decayed into worthless junk after centuries.
"..."
Ian clicked his tongue at the ancient gear turned to trash. Games let you loot OP weapons from ancient tombs, but real ones? Just garbage. Guess games are games.
It might've been badass in the baron's hands, but time waited for no one.
Except one intact weapon amid the longswords and armor.
"...A dagger?"
Ian tilted his head, but Belenca snorted like what the hell are you on about?
"Where do you see a dagger in that?"
"It's short. Dagger."
"Look closer. That's a gladius at least."
Ian checked the sword again. Still short. It resembled the ancient gladius, but stubby like a dagger—that was its signature.
The ancient Golden Empire standardized massive tower shields with gladii. This blade was modeled after one, hence the short length.
"Isn't it too short?"
Belenca shrugged like it was no big deal.
"Eh, ancient smelting tech was crap."
"...?"
You're saying tech was lacking... you guys?
Actually, it was short because it paired with huge shields. Tower shields were heavy enough; add a long sword, and fighting was impossible.
But ignorant of ancient weapons and tech, Belenca and Ian couldn't know that.
"Isn't this the sword you're supposed to take?"
"Yeah."
"Short's better then. Long ones are cumbersome and heavy."
"What sword do you use?"
"I'm in armor, aren't I?"
More armor defense made two-handers easier. No shield needed, so swap defense for offense.
In full plate, Belenca favored "longswords"—massive blades too long for one hand. True two-handers.
Come to think of it, Swordmaster Salvador from before swung a two-hander too. Sans armor. Impressive old man all around.
"A mage getting weapon greedy?"
"Not at all."
Ian drew the short sword. Looked stubby, but hefted decent—50-60 cm. Plenty to kill with.
"Ooh, that sword..."
Ingrian gasped the moment it cleared the sheath. He'd heard rumors of a mystical treasure but never imagined this.
The magic sword felt touched by something beyond human intellect. An unknown power flowed along the blade...
"Feels like some enchantment."
Ian cautiously stroked the edge. Hot... or cold energy.
Reminded him of Lucy's tale. Magic sword Anorilsil. Forged with sun and moon power.
"How is it, Ian? Figure anything out?"
Lucy asked, but Ian stayed silent. No clue what mystery slept inside. Not the type to grasp at a glance—this needed patient study.
But he had a hunch on drawing its power.
"[Boil up.]"
⟨ Anorilsil ⟩
The blade's mystery responded in Maronius Language. It heated, heat haze rising.
Ian held leather to it; it sizzled with acrid smoke.
"Ooh!"
"How'd you do that?! Ian!"
Ingrian and Lucy exclaimed together. Lucy, fine—but why's this guy so hyped?
"Told you before. Sun and moon power?"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Drew out the sun mystery like that, and it works."
Lucy beamed like knew it! She'd worried it was fake—no priest records on activation.
But Ingrian differed.
"Hm. I get the principle, but doesn't seem right."
A no-name mage saying that? Bullshit, nerd.
But Ingrian was Imperial Magic Academy prof. Expert opinion—no pushback.
"I agree. Not fire mystery—sun mystery."
Ian conceded readily; Ingrian grinned.
Eredis's disciple, huh? Polite mage!
Old folks love listeners. Ignoring him less? High marks. Mages pride on rudeness.
"Right. Your method mimics fire mystery. But lore says sun-forged—proper way exists."
"Gotta research that."
Ian played with Anorilsil awhile. Couldn't tap vaunted sun/moon, but heat/cold worked.
Blade hot or cold on command.
What. Not a lighter.
So Lucy's gift... a fantasy lighter. Useful for fire/ice, but limited.
For newbie mage Ian, handy. Weather-tied mysteries like cold/heat needed conditions—winter cold responsive, summer fire lively.
Natural, but disappointing for utility.
Winter ice, summer fire? Meh.
Magic sword changed that. Summer ice, winter fire—real wizard shit.
Experts in Cryokinesis or Pyrokinesis did it easy, but Ian was lowbie.
Noob gear on noob. Perfect.
Lucky me.
Ian smirked. Lucy sidled up; strangers might call it evil.
But not her. Time together let her read him.
Pure joy at new mystery. Creepy mage to others... she just shared it.
"Like the sword, Ian?"
"Yeah. Obviously."
Ian schooled his face. Her precious gift—can't gush.
"Good."
Lucy playfully poked his chest.
"Promised before. It's yours, Ian."
"Thanks."
"No biggie. You've helped me tons."
Lucy kept her word. Talian treasure to Ian.
Meaning...
Finally over.
Parting neared. She saddened inwardly but hid it. Best face till end.
"Let's go, Ian."
The group exited Talian Baron's tomb. Sun blazed bright.
Ian smiled unwittingly.
That day, the group prepped dinner quick. Exhaustion universal.
"Aaah, starving."
"I'll prepare dinner, Master."
"Prep" meant Ian lifted zero fingers. Same for Belenca/Lucy—slaves and servants waited below, brought by Lucy.
Couldn't drag them to baron's tomb, so left behind.
"Ian! Food!"
"Yeah."
Starving, yet blasé. Lucy puzzled.
"Not hungry, Ian?"
"Am."
"Don't look thrilled."
While they slaved in tomb dungeon, servants hunted, baked—feast rare outdoors.
Mountain berry-sauced pigeon pie, whole roasted hare, grain soup, butter.
Elaborate, delicious?
But Ian sighed at pungent, buttery Western spread.
Western food? Fun couple days. Europe trip? Amusing 10 years? But fuck, trip never ends...
Ian knew. Traveler? No, resident. Complaint desk would help.
Yet fantasy medieval life unreal. Trip ends, home awaits—familiar sights, smells, food.
In a way, traveler. God-scammed to weird world, wanderer from afar.
Yeah. Ian hit with sudden homesickness.
Or not grand. Just missed Korean food.
Haa. Screw it all, wanna slurp cup ramen...
Nation permits music, religion, ramen as drugs. Koreans' group withdrawal abroad? Proof.
Times like this...
Ian pulled Mani's farewell gift: gochugaru.
Plant mage Mani grew odd crops, including familiar peppers—for tormenting haters...
Ian requested powder; Mani tilted head.
You got someone to torture?
No? For me? Nah, self-defense. Scored it.
"Whatcha doing, Ian?"
Ian dusted red powder on soup/meat; curious stares.
"What's that?"
"Spicy powder."
Ingrian, mage-curiosity blazing, tasted sans permission.
"Gack! Hack!"
Seizure; Lucy startled.
"Ingrian! What's wrong!"
"Gack! Poi—poison! Careful, all!"
Belenca rose too.
Ian eyed Ingrian dumbfounded.
"Eat my shit unasked, now bitching? Not poison."
"B-but this numbness... paralytic!"
"~Not poison~"
Ian slurped soup casually. One spice, flavor transformed.
Yes! This kick makes food food!
Ian nodded satisfied. Needs this zing!
Ian fine? Suspicion dropped.
"Me... try?"
"Regret it."
Lucy tasted; "Kerock! Not poison?!" Teary glare.
Ian tsked. Weak-ass Westerners. Soft butter diets dulled palates. Pepper too hot for medievals—chili premature.
Except one.
"...Weird, but not bad?"
Belenca fanned flushed face, sliced dusted meat.
Ian eyed her, YouTube urges surging.
[Blonde Sis Tries Gochugaru First Time! Beep Boop Reaction?!]
...Trash idea.
Gochugaru chaos distracted all.
So no one noticed the gaze from hidden bushes.