Monster Hunting
Monster hunting. The word had lost a lot of its tension for Ian these days. Back before his reincarnation into this other world, he'd lived in such a peaceful era that to see a monster, he'd have had to visit a zoo. (Bears and elephants make fine monsters.) But in this medieval fantasy world, luckily becoming a mage had made monsters far less frightening. The biggest reason was simple: he didn't have to face them head-on and swing a weapon around. What Ian mostly did was... trash talk. From the back, yapping away. Mages have it easy~
"I'm fine with it," Ian said, glancing at Kira's expression. True to her pro con artist nature, her face gave nothing away. But from her perspective, monster hunting probably wasn't welcome news. Her skills were shallower than a puddle. Kira rocked her chair indifferently and said, "Sounds like a hassle."
She was broadcasting her reluctance loud and clear. Up until now, the nobles she'd dealt with would back off at that point. Forcing a mage who didn't want to work could lead to who-knows-what disaster. But Lady Serena didn't yield easily.
"We've prepared ample compensation..." But it wasn't about the pay. Kira just lacked the ability to fight monsters, so she didn't want to go. As the conversation spun in circles, Ian shrugged. This was their chance to repay the free meals and comfy lodging. That's probably why they'd been treated so well. They wouldn't get kicked out if Kira refused, but it would sour things with Lady Serena. So Ian persuaded her.
"I'll handle the annoying stuff. You can just come watch."
"...If that's the case, sure."
Kira nodded at Ian's coaxing. If he was going, she couldn't vote against it.
"Thank you. We'll contact you once preparations are ready," Lady Serena said with a peculiar smile. Cute yet seductive. If the baron were healthy, their marriage must've been solid, Ian thought idly as he stood.
At Lady Serena's request, Ian joined the monster hunt. "Joined" was too grand a word, though. It was more like spectating or field-tripping. He didn't have much to do anyway, and that day even less.
"Hiyat!"
"Hah!"
The mounted knights drove the monsters back. The culprits terrorizing the territory were dire wolves. Wolves had long been humanity's rivals. Both lived in packs, their territories overlapping constantly, leading to frequent clashes. Up through the Middle Ages, humans and wolves were evenly matched. Humans were too few to exterminate them. But as populations grew and firearms spread, the balance shattered. Civilization's eternal victory. Or maybe dogs—siding with humans early and now lounging at home—were the true winners.
But this was a medieval fantasy world. Wolves were still dangerous monsters, and dire wolves even more so.
"They're fighting well," Ian remarked, watching the dire wolves get routed by the knights. To a farmer, dire wolves were nightmares, but not to well-armed knights. Out in the open, facing mounted knights, they were getting smashed.
No need for mage help here? As Ian thought that, Lady Serena spoke.
"That's because the leader isn't out yet."
"Leader?"
"The one leading the dire wolves is a werewolf."
Ian whistled. Vampires last time, werewolves this time.
"It's probably watching from hiding until we're weakened."
Werewolves had human-level intelligence. They could learn human language and tap into intelligence networks. Hearing the baron was bedridden, it had slunk in for plunder.
"...I think someone deliberately summoned the werewolf."
No need to explain who "someone" was. Lady Catherine.
"Lady Catherine talks like she's a mage herself."
Serena's eyes flashed with hatred. "You mages might not know yet, but Catherine is a suspicious woman."
"Suspicious how?"
"She was a shepherdess originally. Spent one night with the baron and became his second wife. Doesn't that strike you as odd? A married man taking a stranger as wife just from one night?"
"..."
Ian didn't know what to say. From a modern view, yeah, weird. But this was amazing medieval times, where absurd scandals got laughed off daily. His perspective couldn't match the medieval norm.
Ah, even by medieval standards, one-night marriage is nuts.But Frozen's Anna and Prince Hans... whoops. Anyway.
"So, Lady Catherine cast a spell on the baron?"
"What else explains it? Her becoming wife! His illness! The sudden monster surge!"
Ian chuckled. "But people say you're the mage."
"..."
"That you made a pact with the devil for youth."
Serena glared stiffly. Ian, of course, was unfazed. Dealing with mages had thickened his skin.
"Do you really think that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I... I have no reason to harm the baron!"
"How should I know your motives? Got proof Catherine's a mage?"
"...She's cunning."
"Yeah. No proof."
It ended there. Serena wanted to paint Catherine as dangerous to pull Ian in, but she was suspicious too. At least for now.
"...If you can't heal the baron, please leave the territory soon."
"Already issuing an eviction notice?"
"This isn't a lounge for loafers!"
Ian's jab—"Aren't you mage-like?"—had hit a nerve, making her emotional. It showed her sincerity, too.
"We'll leave when it's time. Dinner with Lady Catherine first."
"..."
"Fun hunt today." Ian waved as he headed back to the castle, hinting he might side with Catherine. Serena must've been fuming, but what could she do? She watched his back silently as an east wind chilled the air.
Ian and Kira were invited to Lady Catherine's dinner. Right after rumors spread of Ian's heated exchange with Serena, no doubt.
"I showed you my unseemly side before."
Catherine's feast outshone Serena's—more dishes, pricier ingredients. The star? Pepper.
"Quite the lavish spread."
"Hehe. Please enjoy."
Kira struggled not to gawk at the pepper-dusted meat. She'd posed as a mage plenty, but never gotten real VIP treatment. She'd always bolted before that. Pepper was victory-feast rare. Her heart raced after so long.
Glancing at Ian as she sat... wow. His face was stone. He eyed the pepper like worthless black beans. Kira was impressed anew. Real mages are on another level! Of course! Getting fazed by pepper? Amateur hour! She gripped the cold meat with both hands and chomped happily. Wow! Absolute fire! Savory pepper and salt on roast—perfection.
But Ian's gaze prickled. He stared like she was a barbarian... Kira flushed awkwardly. Yeah, well, fake mage here. Never had pepper before.
But Ian's contempt wasn't about the pepper. Why eat meat with your hands? Even Lucy didn't.
In the empire, some regions used utensils, others not. Talian, historic and fairy-influenced, had spread forks. Lucy used them. But most northerners, Drbosi included, loved hand-eating. Meat's best torn by hand!
Ian winced at the hand-rippers. Empire nobles look barbaric to me. Normal? What's pricey pepper matter if you savage it bare-handed?
"Mage, not eating?"
"...I am."
Hoo. Ian deep-breathed, tore meat bare-handed. I'm Indian. Indian...
Kira eyed him worriedly. Invited guest, yet picking at food? She never guessed hand-eating bugged him—assumed general dissatisfaction. Others thought the same: grumpy mage.
Someone stood, yelling, "Mage! Speak your complaints!"
"???"
"Our lady prepared this feast! Yet you scowl like a rude guest trying to ruin it?"
Young—around Ian's age. Catherine's son. But Ian didn't register him. That line snapped his patience.
Snap.To the guy trying to chow down? What?
Ian fired back. "Complaints? Complaints? Fuck, you serve cold corpse-meat and expect bare-hand feasting—what? Yeah, I got complaints, asshole. Big ones!"
Old Ian might've let it slide, but mage-rolled Ian had grown prickly. He wouldn't admit it. Don't mess with a man eating.
Normally, nobles back off raging mages—no one wants that smoke. But idiots exist everywhere. Catherine panicked; son flushed beet-red, pissed.
"Mage! Have you lost your mind?"
Attendant lesser nobles flustered too. Few grasped the situation; others lacked voice. Normally, mediator, apology, sit. Ian didn't care. Show power, extract apology.
What's going on? Ian! What happened!
Hold on! We're coming!
As Ian's rage surged, darkness flooded the room.
"Uwaaagh!"
"What the—!"
The lady's retainers screamed in terror. First-time darkness magic victims universally felt fear. Nothing visible! Adults know natural dark can't harm, but magic dark regresses them to kids, trembling: Will it get me?
"See? Complained verbally."
"..."
In pitch black, only Ian's cold voice echoed.
'V-verbally? Bullshit...!' Retainers bit lips, desperate not to provoke more mage rage—unthinkable fallout.
"Hah. These barbarians." Ian muttered, feeling wronged. Forcing hand-cold-meat. Expression? New torture? But... overreacted. Intellectual fix: "I'd prefer fork and knife." Then—whoosh—light flared. Kira.
"Ease up, Ian. They're scared."
"...Fine."
Ian waved; blackness vanished. Retainers sighed relief, gazing at Kira like a savior!
"M-Mage... what was our failing..."
"Fork. Knife."
"...?"
Luckily, someone fetched forks bought from merchants. Knife? Anorilsil sufficed—with heating!
Ian grinned, slicing and warming meat. Chaos already? Do what feels good.
"Ahh, refreshing. Now that's steak." He speared hot bites, smirking evilly. Onlookers felt inexplicable dread at mage sword-steak. That guy's... twisted!
But Kira was deeply moved. Real mage prickliness has style! Huge knife meat-slicing! Note for later! She nodded, memorizing, as Ian proved worthy of respect.