Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Aurellen
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The sky was clear.
It meant the perfect moment to set out on a journey. Zigrat, the merchant caravan leader, seemed to share the sentiment, hurrying everyone to prepare for departure.
“Everyone, move quickly! You there!”
The long-overdue comfortable bedding had bred laziness among the group. Even those usually swift and nimble were dawdling, slow to heed Zigrat’s commands.
But it lasted only a moment. The moment I gathered all my belongings and headed for the wagon, the laggards scrambled to pack with frantic urgency.
Inside the quiet wagon, Durel—who’d been glancing around warily—finally spoke up.
“Master… that just now…”
“Hm?”
“The Warden Stick’s magic.”
“Yeah.”
“The spell you showed at the very end… you didn’t cast it with the Warden Stick, did you?”
I silently met Durel’s question with a steady gaze. Talisman beside us seemed oblivious to it all, but Durel had sensed something different.
As expected from a mage family upbringing. His senses were sharper than Talisman’s.
“How in the world… No way, did you already learn the principle of ‘Rejection’ from somewhere else…”
“It’s all right here, isn’t it?”
With those words, I drew out a slender wooden rod—the Warden Stick—and gave it a casual twirl. Durel’s vacant stare trailed after it as it spun lightly in my palm.
As if it held everything one needed to witness and mimic any magic. So I gave it a try. Imitating what I’d seen wasn’t all that hard.
At least, not by my measure.
‘Other mages can’t do it, I guess…’
“So you’re saying you learned the magic stored in the Warden Stick… right there on the spot?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s absurd…!”
“Can’t other mages do it?”
“Even calling it possible is a stretch… Even if they knew the method, no one could replicate it.”
“Because of the clash in the inner world?”
“Are you alright, Master?”
For me, this had been the norm since picking up magic—no big deal either way. I shrugged, and Durel’s mouth fell open in a daze.
“If other mages… especially the Academy… find out about you, they won’t just sit idly by.”
True enough, maybe. Magic was a world painstakingly built over long years by a single group. For an outsider with no ties to wield it so casually would feel like a outright rejection of all they’d toiled for.
‘Better keep it under wraps…’
“If you keep quiet, no one will know.”
“I, Durel… though I’ve turned my back on my family, I’m no ingrate. I won’t breathe a word of your secret, not even under torture.”
“Good to hear.”
“Is the entire Golden Wind School made up of people like you, Master?”
“Doubt it.”
I frowned in response to Durel’s question. The only members I knew were Raymond and myself. His reaction hinted at some backstory, but he wouldn’t spill even if asked—so my grasp of the Golden Wind School was sorely limited.
‘At best, they handle wind… and Raymond had zero hesitation slaughtering other mages.’
“By the way, Durel.”
“Yes?”
“What’s the deal with that Academy?”
“It’s a federation of mages from various schools.”
“What do they do?”
“They claim to protect mages’ interests and exchange knowledge to advance magic… What a joke. Magic is a discipline that enshrines one absolute worldview and rejects all others—‘knowledge exchange,’ my foot…”
“They don’t sound so bad.”
“They lure people in with pretty words. Reality’s a far cry. Under the guise of sharing knowledge, they bully smaller schools into revealing their spells, then twist and reinterpret them to fold into their own schools. Countless ones have vanished that way.”
“You know your stuff.”
“…My family was one of the pillars propping up that place.”
“Oh…”
Durel heaved a deep sigh and peered out the window. A tangled life etched the young boy’s face. So youthful, yet marked by such hardship.
Silence blanketed the wagon interior.
At the same moment, the halted scenery outside began to creep forward.
Rattle—
A month and several days had passed since departing the first waypoint. My sense of time had blurred because I’d been deep into one spell lately.
‘Talisman.’
I’d gleaned a hint from a single magic he’d shown. Couldn’t replicate it fully. Hadn’t observed it up close, nor peeked at its embedded principles or Erkamon.
Similar in form, utterly different in essence.
‘Not a mana-hungry spell… Needs dynamic vision aid… Semi-permanent like a mana circle would be ideal… Let’s link it up…’
A few days into crafting this new magic, we reached the caravan’s destination.
Zigrat called it the city of Aurellen.
“Wow…”
From the jostling wagon interior, I stared out the window in dazed awe. Endless golden fields of grain rippled in the wind, birthing waves of molten gold.
“What a splendid place.”
Aurellen’s embrace of those golden fields betrayed its immense wealth. Towering, ornate buildings everywhere; even the gate-guarding soldiers gleamed in spotless new armor.
Passing the gates, the wagon rumbled on awhile before halting. It stopped before a massive structure.
Empty interior, doors on all sides—it had to be a logistics warehouse for stashing caravan goods.
As Durel and I dismounted, Zigrat came dashing up, out of breath.
“Thank you for all your hard work…! Here’s the promised pay!”
Zigrat proffered a hefty leather pouch. A quick peek revealed a small gold bar atop a heap of silver coins.
‘More than agreed upon…’
“Packed it generously… Thanks to you mages, the trip was smooth sailing…”
Despite sharing my name, I remained ‘mage’ to Zigrat. Pocketing the pouch marked the caravan’s end.
Durel and I stood dumbly on the street, gazing skyward.
“Planning to head west now?”
“Ah, yeah. Gotta.”
Problem was the vague location. Durel hadn’t a clue what ‘western wind’ pinpointed exactly, so intel-gathering was in order.
“Rest up first?”
We’d ridden easy in the wagons, but the long haul had drained us. Durel nodded, exhaustion plain on his face.
The instant we turned toward an inn, Durel shook his head and barred my way.
“Proper attire first, before moving.”
“Attire?”
“That outfit’s too plain. Need something more… mage-like.”
“Mage-like…?”
I cocked my head, brow furrowed. Mages I’d met in life? Barely a handful. All dressed plain as day.
“What even is ‘mage-like’ attire?”
“Anything standout. Mana-reactive garb’s ideal. Mages love standing apart from common folk.”
Durel took the lead. We reached a sizable clothing shop. Unlike roadside stalls, this dealt solely in apparel—no other wares in sight.
“Shopkeep?”
He called out casually, like old hat. Rustling from within, then an old man emerged.
“Young lads, eh… Looking for?”
“Cloak of witch’s thread, unadorned robes… Anything eye-catching.”
“…Mages, are ya?”
Durel replied by conjuring: a blade materialized from his empty hand. The old man staggered back, aghast.
“W-Wait just a sec… Right… right away…”
Moments later, he hauled out truly bizarre garments. Color schemes alien to streetwear.
‘Jester getup…’
Did this world’s mages actually fancy such threads? I sifted dubiously and spied a massive hat amid the pile.
“Huh…”
Wide brim, crumpled conical peak flopped backward, tiny feather tucked aside. Gave a peculiar vibe.
A wizard hat, dead ringer for ones I knew. No clue on local tastes, but it didn’t repel.
I plonked it on, slung the nearby cape over my shoulders. Then, my heart’s spinning mana circle stirred—the cape responded.
Flutter—
Now it clicked: mana-reactive clothing. The cape’s very threads thrummed to mana.
‘No fancy functions beyond that…’
Just mana-triggered billowing. Mages here took their style seriously, it seemed.
‘Not half bad…’
Paid up and exited, yet the cape draped on my shoulders kept fluttering away.
Durel, eyeing me intently, spoke.
“Master. You can stop channeling mana now.”
“I’m… not doing anything…?”
Durel blinked in blank confusion at my words, head tilted in bewilderment.
“Witch’s thread reacts to a mage’s mana. Stop circulating, and it settles naturally…”
I’d love to—but couldn’t will it off. My heart’s mana circle spun relentlessly, flooding my body with mana.
That fueled the cape’s flutter.
“Well… If you mean to advertise you’re a mage, no issue… That’s the point of the getup… But burning mana like that’ll wear you out fast…”
No fatigue here. Even asleep, this cape’d likely keep waving. I spared Durel the details.