Chapter 16
Chapter 16
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Fleeting Encounter
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The capital of Pendia, Hasla, was home to no fewer than a hundred thousand people.
When Shan first heard that from Roden, he thought the boy was just bragging.
How could over a hundred thousand people possibly live in a single city?
Just transporting and disposing of all the food they ate and the waste they produced would take an entire day.
And how on earth would anyone build walls wide enough to enclose them all?
But two days after leaving Ovilos City and joining up with the men sent by Roden's father, Shan began to suspect that it might actually be true.
The roads were teeming with people traveling to and from nearby towns and villages to the capital.
Perhaps because of the high population density, monsters that were commonplace across Pendia were nowhere to be seen around the capital.
The most you'd spot was the occasional goblin getting thrashed by a farmer's pitchfork for stealing crops, shrieking in pain.
By the time they finally arrived at the capital, Shan had to admit he'd been wrong.
Roden hadn't been lying.
"Whoa..."
It finally made sense when Roden said Ovilos City was just one small satellite town among many.
The city sprawling out beneath the hill they stood on was staggeringly vast and intricate.
Stone walls that usually topped out at four or five meters were easily over ten meters high here, stretching toward the horizon in width.
Even the river cutting through the city was dozens of meters across.
Naturally, with so many people coming and going, there was no real inspection at the gates.
As they dismounted and Roden led his horse by the reins, he said in a playful tone,
"Welcome to Hasla."
"You were born and raised here, right, Roden?"
"That's right."
"Incredible..."
While Shan had been scraping by in a tiny village of barely over a hundred souls, someone else had grown up in a massive city like this.
It wasn't jealousy, exactly—just astonishment that two humans could live in such utterly different worlds.
Of course, not everyone in the capital lived well.
Among the people on the main streets, plenty were dressed in shabby clothes, and peeking into alleys between grand buildings revealed more than a few beggars in rags.
Shan frowned when he realized how many of them were Altoin.
He'd noticed it back in Ovilos City, but among the rare well-dressed, prosperous-looking folk on the streets, not a single Altoin was to be seen.
That realization felt like a thorn lodged in his throat.
"Here we are."
"This is the place, huh."
Roden's house was about thirty minutes' walk from the gates.
In the city, residential areas were divided by class and occupation, and as befitted the home of the head of the merchants' guild, his mansion was the largest and most ornate even among the merchants' quarter.
The escorts who'd brought Roden and Shan had gone ahead and made contact, so the front gates stood open to receive them.
"Welcome home, young master."
"Ah, Tata..."
A lean man in his mid-thirties, with a stern face, greeted Roden impassively.
For some reason, Roden looked uncomfortable around him, flashing an awkward smile before bowing his head and apologizing profusely.
"I'm sorry. I didn't have any other choice back then..."
"How dare a mere servant accept an apology from you. The master is waiting. Please wash up and change first."
Judging by his icy tone, the man called Tata had no intention of forgiving the apology.
He treated Shan, standing right beside Roden, as if he were invisible.
With a curt nod, maids led the two inside the mansion.
As Shan strode forward, he whispered,
"Roden, who was that guy just now?"
"Tata? He's the steward and my father's right-hand man... basically his confidant."
"You two don't seem to get along."
"It's not that we don't get along, exactly. Uh... I kind of screwed up."
Roden confessed that the gear and money he'd taken when he ran away had come from tricking Tata.
Considering the funds ultimately came from Roden's father, Kallion, Tata had essentially allowed the master's wealth to be siphoned off by lying for the young master.
Now Shan understood the chill between them.
"I see. If he'd hated you for no reason, I was gonna give him one."
As he said it, tapping the hilt of the sword at his waist, Roden asked with a terrified look,
"You're joking, right?"
"Yeah."
"Don't scare me like that—it sounded real."
Even as they chatted, Shan's green eyes scanned his surroundings ceaselessly.
Tapestries on the walls, hundreds of glass windows draped in vibrant curtains, plush carpets underfoot...
Roden's mansion was luxury made manifest.
Shan had gotten a taste of opulence staying at Povab's place, but here it was overwhelming—his head was spinning.
Looks like the rumors were true: richer than most nobles.
Moments later, they reached the bathhouse, where the maids separated Shan from Roden.
"This way for the young master."
"Huh."
"Stay still—we'll get you all cleaned up nice."
"See you later."
Judging by Roden's nonchalant reaction, this must be how the elite did things.
Even at Povab's, he'd bathed himself.
Dragged into the bathhouse, Shan couldn't even resist as they took his sword and clothes.
If they'd been gruff or malicious about it, he'd have beaten them to a pulp or sliced them up on the spot.
But against smiling women insisting he had to undress to wash, cheerfully logical, it was tough.
Yet for some reason, the maids' bright smiles faded as Shan's bare body came into view.
A few even covered their mouths with both hands, eyes welling with tears.
"This is... too much..."
"How could anyone do this?!"
Were the scars on his body that hideous?
Shan remembered Roden mentioning it before—he'd have to ask a renowned priest to remove them someday.
Of course, it'd cost a fortune, so he'd need to get even richer first.
Whatever the reason, the maids handled him with exquisite care.
Disgusted by touching the dirty scars, maybe?
Shan paid more attention to the fragrant soap they used for washing.
He liked how it left a fresh scent even after rinsing, and it was novel to smell nice on his own skin.
After the bath, they dressed him in clothes of a material so fine and soft it quivered.
The fabric clung so smoothly and comfortably that it felt alien—he found himself squirming unconsciously.
Then Roden appeared, freshly bathed and in similar attire.
He burst out laughing at the sight of Shan.
"Dressed like that, you look like some spoiled brat who's never known hardship."
"Do I?"
"Yeah. Well, my father won't be fooled by looks like that. Come on—can't keep the old man waiting."
Was the steward waiting for them to finish washing? Tata reappeared and led them to a spacious parlor.
There sat an elderly man with snow-white hair, scribbling intently on paper with a quill.
Sensing their approach, he set down the quill and looked up at Shan and Roden.
"You're back."
The head of Pendia's merchants' guild, Kallion Webers, looked nothing like Shan had imagined.
He'd pictured someone like Mr. Povab—paunchy, round-faced, mild-mannered.
Instead, sharp eyes, rugged features, strong and fierce—like a retired old knight more than a merchant.
In other words, he looked just like his son Roden.
More accurately, Roden took after him.
"I'm home, Father."
"Is that all you have to say after running off and coming back?"
"Uh, sorry. I'll pay back the money I took later."
"You should've led with that."
For some reason, Kallion's face softened with a pleased smile the moment he heard it.
As if the theft mattered more than the runaway itself.
His gaze shifted to Shan.
"So you're the kid Roden mentioned in his letter. The one who hunted a troll?"
"Not alone—I teamed up with Sir Catra."
Kallion blinked blankly at Shan's reply, then burst into hearty laughter.
"What a funny little guy! Most kids your age would brag about not slaying it solo, not downplay it."
"If I'd been able to wield qi properly, I could've done it alone."
"Is that so."
With a meaningful response, Kallion scribbled something else on the paper.
A moment later, he looked up again.
"So, what's your plan from here?"
"Pardon?"
"You didn't come here expecting me to handle everything, did you?"
"No, of course not..."
Roden, unprepared for his father's straightforward willingness to help, stared blankly before launching into his prepared pitch.
"First off, we need education. As I mentioned, Shan can't wield qi yet. He needs etiquette and basic knowledge too."
"Mastering qi at your age would be the real anomaly."
"We'll stay here and build his body properly. I'd like your help finding a teacher during that time."
"Sir Darkal?"
"Yes."
Sir Darkal was Roden's old mentor, a veteran retired for over a decade.
In other words, a man with decades of combat experience.
Perfect for training a young knight apprentice.
"But I recall he's Old Faith."
"Family tradition, but he doesn't care about Altoin. I know, since I was his pupil."
"Hm. Fair enough."
Kallion turned back to Shan.
"What do you think?"
"Huh?"
"This is about your future. Can't ignore the man's own opinion. You've got thoughts on this, right?"
Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Shan scratched his temple before answering.
"I don't know anything about this stuff. Whatever Roden says is fine with me."
"You've only known my son a short time. Isn't that a bit too much trust?"
"He said he'd help me become the strongest knight. I trust Roden."
Kallion stared at Shan with heavy eyes at the innocently earnest reply.
Was it the blind faith of a clueless child? Or the laziness of dumping it all on someone else?
But the letter from Povab complicated that.
It said Shan didn't just follow Roden blindly—he offered his own solid opinions.
No idiot kid blindly handing everything to a guardian could do that.
'Not spineless, but trusts enough to defer completely in unfamiliar areas?'
If so, it was ideal.
No backbone meant getting manipulated later; no trust meant they'd split eventually.
What's the point of sponsoring from childhood then?
His decades as a master merchant told him: this kid was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
After about ten minutes of discussion, Kallion Webers promised to support Shan's path to knighthood.
But it wasn't unlimited backing.
A fat cat doesn't hunt.
Kallion's support covered only food, shelter, basic dignity, and training costs for a knight aspirant.
Even that was enough to melt the heart of a poor Altoin boy who'd known only hardship.
Dishes blending sweet, salty, sour, spicy, bitter in harmony; fragrant drinks teasing his tongue.
Fine clothes of soft fabric, fluffy beds, warm baths, attentive maids eased his body.
A few servants from the Old Faith eyed him unkindly, but they didn't hassle him outright, so he ignored them.
Indulging in luxuries he'd never dreamed of, let alone experienced, Shan felt like he'd entered another realm.
Maybe this was the Goddess's hall for the good who died pure.
Unlike Shan luxuriating leisurely, Roden looked busy and tired.
Always scribbling notes—seemed complicated and tough.
After a week floating on clouds of comfort, Shan sought out the still-busy Roden.
"Is it really okay to keep lounging like this?"
"Anything wrong?"
"No, but shouldn't we start that training? Feels wrong just playing around."
Shan had felt this before.
Back when he first left the village, basing at the cabin, roaming woods and fields.
Fun days, but stagnant—no progress, just spinning wheels.
He'd followed Roden to escape that, but drowning in pleasure here was no different.
Seeing Shan's unease, Roden clenched his fist inwardly.
'As expected...'
Throwing Shan into unguarded comfort was Kallion's test.
If he turned into a complacent pig, no talent could save him.
But as Roden hoped, amid the softness, Shan hadn't lost his drive.
It thrilled him—and saddened him.
Real training would bring pain eclipsing this joy.
"Relax and enjoy. Proper training starts when your teacher arrives."
"I wouldn't mind you teaching me, Roden."
Roden gave a wry smile at the repeated exchange.
"It's not that simple. Systematic training from a pro avoids issues... If lounging here's boring, wanna tour the capital?"
"Aren't you busy?"
"I can spare a bit."
Truth was, Shan hadn't gone out because Roden seemed swamped.
Unnerved by strangers alone, and scared of getting lost in the huge, maze-like city.
Soon after, they left the mansion, heading north along the main road first.
To see what Shan said he wanted most upon arriving at the capital.
"Hey, Roden! That tall building there—is that the royal palace? Where the king lives!"
"His Majesty the King. And don't point—could get us arrested."
"Oops."
At Roden's warning, Shan hurriedly lowered his finger, glancing around.
Thankfully, no one stared.
"Pointing at a building, not a person, gets you arrested? Weird."
"That's class society for you... Ah, there. We're here."
Shan gasped again at what Roden pointed to.
A building that looked utterly unreal stood there.
A tower gleaming like carved amethyst.
This was the headquarters of the Pendia Magic Academy.
"So this is where I can see wizards..."
"Yep. Anyone who looks like a total bookworm is probably one. Ah, over there."
Following Roden's gaze, Shan saw a middle-aged man with a protruding neck and hunched back.
Amethyst-framed glasses on his face, shadows under weary eyes.
Several such folks wandered the academy grounds.
Shan looked a bit disappointed.
"Not what I pictured..."
"What'd you expect?"
"Pointy hat, robe, staff."
Old tales always showed wizards like that.
Cackling evil spells, then sliced by heroic knights, screaming into boiling cauldrons.
But these wizards had no mystic menace.
Just half-mad from endless pondering.
"They look like you, busy with work."
"Me, a wizard? What an insult... Anyway, let's go in."
"Non-wizards allowed?"
"First floor's for visitors. Higher up needs credentials."
Surprisingly, as they approached the main doors, no one opened them—they parted on their own.
Shan stared, mesmerized, then noticed no one else batted an eye.
Clearly routine here.
"The door opened itself."
"Magic, obviously. They waste mana stones on anything."
Cheaper to have a doorman, right? Roden clicked his tongue.
As a merchant's son, such pointless extravagance grated.
Inside, Shan whipped his head around.
Stone walls everywhere, fancy furniture—nothing too odd.
Except one thing.
"Everyone here looks rich."
"They stop the poor at the door. Our outfits scream money."
Roden was actually rich, after all.
As they eyed the enchanted items sold on the first floor, commotion erupted from upstairs—people descending.
Roden frowned, clueless too.
"What's going on?"
No anger in the voices, so not trouble.
Soon, the group passed by: several wizardly types, four well-armed knights, escorting one girl.
The girl with deep navy hair cascading down met Shan's rust-red eyes exactly.