The Fame of the Saltwater Miracle
Having wrapped up their business after sixty days, Ian and his group returned to the Talian domain in high spirits. In exchange for lending 33% of the magic sword's power, Ian had secured a steady monthly supply of fairy silk. The fairies also promised to research ancient elf records to help him master the sword's magic properly.
"We don't really know how they managed to create a magic sword like Anorilsil," they explained. It was an item made possible only because the fairy queen of that era had access to rare materials. One could call it a masterpiece born from the exquisite craftsmanship of the artisan race combined with those precious ingredients.
"But the records from that time still exist, so we'll compile and organize them for you."
"I'd appreciate that."
As Ian prepared to leave the village, the fairy technicians called out to him repeatedly.
"Sir Ian! Next time, make some time for a proper, in-depth discussion on mathematics...!"
Ian was momentarily touched. Mathematics. What a glorious ring to that word. Having lived immersed in the liberal arts culture of this otherworldly backwater, Ian gladly accepted the fairy technicians' proposal.
"Of course!"
To commemorate their meeting, the fairy queen gifted him two bracelets made of fairy silk. They were hastily made, so the quality wasn't anything to write home about—just strips of fabric sewn into loops. But the silk's beautiful purple hue gave them a decent vibe anyway.
"I look forward to meeting you again, Sir Ian."
"You take care too, Your Majesty."
Ian fiddled with the purple bracelets for a while before shoving them into his pocket. Honestly, he didn't like them one bit. The mystical purple sheen and soft texture were nice, sure... but it was still just a bracelet. Hell, even dollar store bracelets had some shape to them. This thing looked more like a rolled-up eyeglass cloth. Come to think of it, it really did resemble one. So Ian decided to just give them to the girls.
"Th-this is for me?! "
"...You're just giving it away? No strings attached?"
Lucy and Belenca reacted with explosive excitement at the sight of the bracelets. Seeing them get so hyped up made Ian think, Yeah, they really are girls after all.
"Yeah. Just a gift. You've all been through a lot lately, right? Think of it as a souvenir from me."
The fairy queen had probably hoped Ian would wear one on each wrist... but seeing the girls blush with joy made the gift feel worthwhile. Yeah, a present only counts as a present if the recipient loves it. What good was a (by this world's standards) rare bracelet rotting away in his pocket?
Even if it ended up in the wrong hands, at least it was getting the love it deserved. That had to count for some kind of happiness, right?
"Eeee! Thank you so much, Ian!"
"I don't even know what words of gratitude to offer. It's the first gift like this I've ever received..."
Lucy immediately slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and spent the whole day staring at it. Belenca didn't wear hers on her wrist either—instead, she used it as a hair tie to bundle her hair into a ponytail.
"How's it look? Ian?"
"What about it."
"Does it suit me?"
"..."
Belenca gazed at Ian with a face brimming with pure, unadulterated happiness. If there were an emotion analysis app, it would've clocked her at 100% happy—the real deal. Ian found it fascinating because he'd never seen that expression on her before. Well, there had been one similar time. Back when he'd offered to pay her ransom, maybe.
"Why are you staring like that?"
"Nah... I just didn't expect you'd like it. I figured someone like you would prefer something more practical."
"Practical?"
"You know, like a dagger. Or some oil."
Belenca shot him an incredulous look at his words.
"A dagger? What woman in the world would be thrilled to get a dagger as a gift? Maybe a paring knife, but that's different."
A paring knife was a multipurpose kitchen blade... basically a steak knife. Super useful, so housewives in this world loved them.
"No, I mean..."
Ian scratched his head awkwardly. In anime, female knights usually hated girly stuff, right? Like, "How dare you give me something for silly girls!" It was the limit of Ian's anime-informed view of women. Contrary to his weird preconceptions, Belenca liked normal girly things just like any other woman.
"You've given me something precious. Thank you truly, Ian."
Belenca said it while proudly showing off her ponytail, like, Behold, my awesome new hair tie! Ian shrugged at the beaming Belenca. It was a sentiment hard for a guy like him to grasp.
Anyway, Ian was thrilled with his new magic sword, and Lucy and Belenca were over the moon with their fancy gifts. With the big shots in good moods, the servants and slaves followed suit.
But the domain they returned to after such a pleasant journey... had an uninvited guest who was anything but pleasant.
The visitor to Talian was a bureaucrat named Galadin. He'd come all the way from the Drbosi Barony, far to the east of Talian. It wasn't a distance anyone would travel for kicks, so the two domains had zero connection—not even a remote one.
Yet someone from that distant barony had shown up because of a certain rumor originating from Talian.
"Hey, what's with carrying that thing so carefully?"
"Hey! Don't touch it! It's bad luck!"
As the domain war in Talian wound down, the mercenaries who'd collected their pay from Lucy scattered to find their next gigs. Some lucky ones scored new contracts right away, but the rest wandered wherever their feet took them—eventually landing in the Drbosi Barony.
The local Drbosi mercenaries welcomed the Talian arrivals. Mercs had a custom of warmly greeting fellow professionals from other regions. It was a chance to swap rumors and build connections. In this medieval fantasy world, schmoozing was essential for making a living as a merc.
The empire had hardly any standing armies besides mercenaries—too broke for that luxury. So whenever trouble brewed, everyone hired mercs. But since both sides did the same, mercs ended up facing familiar faces all the time.
Naturally, no merc liked losing troops. Who'd want their warriors dying in battle? So when old acquaintances crossed paths on the field...
"Hey? Bro! That you, bro?!"
"Huh? Hammington? Is that you, ya rascal?"
"Ayy, bro! Long time no see! How you holdin' up?!"
"Heh. Look at that shiny black face—you're doin' fine, I see."
...they'd inevitably slip into friendly chit-chat. Would mercs who knew each other actually fight for real? Fat chance. They'd fake it—bash some shields, yell a bit—then slink off where no one could see.
The hiring villages A and B would scream from afar, "Kill 'em! Slaughter those bastards!" But the mercs' leaders had already colluded, rigging the outcome.
"Last time you won, bro, so lemme take this one."
"Damn, you movin' up in the world?"
"Got a bunch retirin' to get hitched lately. Unit's barely hangin' on. Cut me some slack, bro."
"Alright, you win this round."
"Thanks a ton, bro!"
It was like medieval pro wrestlers. Once the "fight" wrapped up half-assed, they'd head off for dinner. Sharp folks might squint suspiciously—"Those guys are in cahoots, aren't they?"—but what could they do? Grab a weapon themselves? When the mercs said, "We fought hard but lost~," you had to buy it. In the end, they pocketed the gold and kept their forces intact. Pure honey.
So mercs worked hard to stay buddy-buddy and maximize the schmoozing. Drbosi and Talian mercs mingling was par for the course.
But the Drbosi crew noticed the Talian mercs being extra prickly about one thing.
"C'mon, lemme just peek real quick?"
"What makes you think I'd lend you this?!"
What the Talian mercs clutched so preciously... was a leather waterskin. They hugged it like it was a swaddled baby.
"What's the big deal?"
The Drbosi mercs were genuinely baffled. But when they learned what was inside, their eyes bugged out.
"It's a magic potion made by Mage Raven himself!"
"Magic potion?!"
The Drbosi mercs were stunned. Magic potions? Stuff even nobles struggled to get—how the hell did lowly mercs have any?
Mage-made items weren't just buyable with cash. The mage had to make it first, and you had to be on good terms for them to sell it. Yell at a mage, "Hey, whip up some potions!" and they'd ignore you—mages who snubbed the emperor himself? They crafted only when they felt like it, making their touch worth a fortune.
And these ragtag mercs had it...
"Got it! They stole it!"
"Nah? The mage made it right in front of us and handed it out."
Even at networking drinks, the Talian mercs wouldn't share with Drbosi folks. They'd seen the effects firsthand.
After battling usurper Graeme's army, the exhausted Talian mercs drank and applied the potion. The results were miraculous... true to its name, Vitality Potion, it prevented wounds from festering and infused the body with vigor!
Of course, Ian the con artist huckster had just mixed in salt—plain saltwater, no magic whatsoever.
But whether it had magic or not didn't matter. The mercs had chugged Ian's saltwater, gained energy, and some had their lives saved because of it. It pulled them back from the brink!
The life-savers shouted in excitement: "Whoa! This potion's so OP, it restores like 350 HP!" Proven in real combat, life-or-death battles no less—how priceless was Ian's magic potion now?
From that moment, the mercs sang Mage Raven's praises. Raven the almighty mage, commanding ravens as minions, wielding pitch-black darkness, blah blah blah.
By the end of the Talian mercs' tales...
The Drbosi mercs were green with envy. Those lazy bastards half-assed fights and bailed when losing, yet scored free mage potions? Flailing in a honey pot! We should've gone to Talian too. Wasted time in this broke-ass Drbosi dump.
There was a reason mercs were lurking in Drbosi. The baron was dying from some mystery illness.
The baron had a first wife and a second. Unlike harem tropes, they hated each other's guts—enough to want each other dead.
To prevent domain schism, the baron planned to leave it to the first wife's eldest son. But the second wife figured, once that kid took over, she'd be wiped out. Luck or not, the baron was bedridden... so strike now, and the survivor becomes next baron.
That blood scent had mercs prowling Drbosi, waiting for the fight to pop off.
Who knew Talian was running a free potion event meanwhile!
"Anyway, they say Raven's got some mystical power."
"Mystical power?"
"Heard he hunted a manticore in Catania County once. Saved a dying knight with divine magic right there."
"Divine magic! Then he must be super devout?"
"Gotta be. Guy who calls down heaven's miracles."
It clicked why Mage Raven could make vitality potions. With faith that deep, heaven must've blessed him to create them!
The more they heard, the more Drbosi mercs envied the Talians. Boo hoo, I wanna chug potion too!
Thus, tales of the great Umbrakinesis master, "Ian Eredis Raven," spread merc-to-merc like wildfire.
And those rumors... reached the ears of Galadin, the Drbosi baron's bureaucrat monitoring merc movements.
"Divine magic... heaven's blessing... and vitality potions..."
Gazing at his bedridden lord, Galadin pondered.
"We've tried every famed medicine. All useless."
Drbosi's chaos stemmed entirely from the baron's illness. Potions failed. Priests' prayers bounced off.
But... Ian Eredis Raven. What about his magic?
"I must meet Mage Raven!"
To verify the rumors, Galadin rode straight to Talian. But Raven wasn't there—off with Baroness Talian, they said. So he waited. Heaven helped; Ian returned soon.
Galadin blocked Ian's path and bellowed sternly.
"You! Mage Raven! You filthy con artist!"
"...?"
Ian blinked in confusion at the random cursing uncle. Uncle, this ain't Line 1.
But Galadin's next roar made Ian's heart sink.
"You think I wouldn't know you tricked mercenaries with fake potions, passing saltwater as magic brew?!"
"!!!"
Ian recalled scamming the mercs with saltwater as vitality potion and broke out in cold sweat. How the hell did he know it was fake?!