Chapter 113
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 113
After concluding their slightly awkward drinks with Tasan, Turan and his companions gathered in the lodgings the pirate had provided. Turan began by catching Meisa up on the situation, as she had stayed behind and missed the earlier conversation.
"The Head of the Baraha family?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"Yeah."
"That sounds impossible..."
For the Head of a Great Family—not just any minor house—to abandon their stronghold and sail for the distant western lands was unheard of. Having been raised as the successor to a Great Family herself, Meisa understood the internal politics of such houses better than anyone. It made the news even harder to swallow.
However, there was little reason for Tasan to lie. He likely didn't even know what the Baraha crest looked like, let alone have the motive to invent such a specific tale.
Solif, who had been sitting in a daze, muttered quietly, "Could it be because of me? Are they trying to hunt me down?"
If one sailed west from the Southern Sea, the destination would be the Siraf Wetlands—the territory of Lavitas they had recently departed. It was one of the few places where the Baraha family knew Solif might be hiding.
"How old did you say the Baraha Head is now?" Turan asked.
"I believe he celebrated his two hundred and fiftieth birthday the year I turned fifty..."
"So he’s not even two hundred and sixty yet. He’s certainly too young to be desperate enough to hunt you personally."
Mages enjoyed significantly longer lifespans than ordinary people, as mana slowed the aging of both body and soul. Consequently, the leaders of the Great Families tended to be exceptionally long-lived, even by noble standards. Badal, the Head of the Arabion family, was over four hundred years old and still functional despite his frailty. The recently deceased Head of the Lavitas family had been over four hundred and fifty.
Considering that even high-ranking nobles much weaker than them—like Lida, for instance—could easily live to be three hundred or more, there was no reason for the Baraha Head to be so impatient that he would personally set out to find Solif.
"Maybe there’s another reason," Turan mused. "Does he suffer from a chronic illness?"
While a noble's mana-saturated body was resistant to most poisons and germs, they weren't immune to everything. Illnesses could arise from congenital defects or lifestyle habits. Meisa, who had once lived with chronic fatigue and dizziness due to malnutrition, was a prime example.
Solif hummed in thought before shaking his head. "Not that I know of... but even if he did, they would have kept it a state secret."
"True. Nothing good comes from rumors that a Head is terminal."
"Then perhaps he's traveling to Lavitas for treatment," Meisa suggested.
Just like Turan’s group, the Baraha Head’s immense power would likely make him resistant to the healing magic of ordinary casters. The theory held weight. Then, Meisa offered a more cynical perspective.
"Maybe it's a ruse."
"A ruse?"
"Just because a ship flies the crest of the Head doesn't mean the man himself is on board."
"You think it's a decoy?" Turan asked, considering the possibility for the first time.
She nodded. "Exactly. Most people can't sense an opponent's mana capacity from a distance like you can, Turan. Unless they meet him face-to-face, there's no way to know if the Head is actually there. If they used a body double with a similar appearance, they could fool almost anyone."
"But if it is a disguise, why bother?"
There had to be a motive. Why would someone of such supreme status feel the need to hide his presence?
Solif shook his head, dismissing the suspicion entirely. "The old fossils in my family are incredibly stubborn. Their obsession with protocol is no joke. Even if the family were on the brink of ruin, they’d be screaming if someone violated a single principle."
Baraha was notorious even among the Great Families for its rigid adherence to complex regulations. Looking at the current Solif, it was hard to imagine, but he too had lived under that suffocating weight until the day he ran away.
"Well, we won't know for sure until we see for ourselves..."
"For now, we need to adjust our plans," Turan decided.
Originally, the group had planned to cross to the east, quietly scout the Baraha family's situation, and look for an opportunity to extract Solif’s parents. They had already confirmed that Solif’s father, Godis, had returned to the east after his stint in the west.
"Mr. Godis is still at the main residence, right?"
"I can't be certain, but he's definitely in the east."
Turan pulled a strand of Godis’s hair from his pouch and activated a tracking spell. He could feel the faint resonance of the owner coming from the far northeast. After stowing the hair, Turan voiced an idea that had just occurred to him.
"If the Head is truly absent, we might consider a more aggressive approach."
"Aggressive?"
"We have the legitimate successor of Baraha with us. We could simply seize control of the family and intercept the Head when he returns."
In terms of raw mana, Turan’s group surpassed even the highest-ranking nobles; they stood somewhere between a Great Family successor and a Head. Furthermore, given their array of magic tools and exceptional talent, their actual combat strength was even higher. If the three of them joined forces, toppling a Great Family that lacked its Head wasn't impossible—especially with Solif as their justification for a coup.
"Wouldn't that be too dangerous?" Meisa countered. "We still don't know the Baraha Head's true strength. More importantly, doing that would likely turn Zahar into an enemy as well."
"According to Ymir, the two are just collaborators, not a single entity," Turan noted.
"I'm still against it," Solif added. "It's too reckless."
Solif and Meisa eventually persuaded Turan that he had become a bit too bold following his recent successes. The potential reward wasn't worth that level of risk.
"You've only just turned twenty," Solif said. "Time is on our side. There's no need to rush."
Because of his youthful appearance and the lighthearted behavior typical of high-ranking mages, it was easy to forget that Solif was nearly sixty years old. Turan conceded and scrapped the plan of a full-scale war.
"But this much is worth a try," Turan said.
"What is?"
"Infiltrating the Head's residence to search for the family's secret facilities."
Among all the powers in the world, Spirit-calling—the art of manipulating souls—was the exclusive domain of the White Elves. Naturally, the Frea Divine Clan’s ability to achieve immortality by switching bodies was likely linked to this.
However, despite having entered the residences of Arabion and Carmine—two Great Families where gods resided—Turan had not sensed the presence of any other races. Given that his detection range through holy relics spanned several hundred meters, this should have been impossible.
This meant they were either hiding the White Elves far from the capital or confining them in a very specific way. Turan suspected the latter. Normally, the presence of the Head would make a detailed investigation impossible, but with the Head gone...
They might finally uncover the secret.
*
The next day, Turan’s group left the Red Whale Pirates' base and moved east. They destroyed their boat at a suitable spot and took to the skies in the swing-carriage pulled by Bije.
As they flew, Meisa looked down at the white foam of the waves and murmured, "Come to think of it, it's a shame we couldn't do it."
"Do what?"
"The Wave Walker ritual."
They didn't know what a Leviathan looked like, so hunting one would have been difficult, but traveling by riding the natural waves was something they could have managed with enough time. However, time was a luxury they didn't have if they wanted to infiltrate Baraha while the Head was away.
The Southern Sea was vast. Even Bije, who could cross the territory of a Great Family in a day or two, found the crossing grueling. It took three full days of flight before they finally made landfall on the eastern shore.
"We finally made it..."
"Flying without a break makes me feel like a statue."
"It's not like you were the one flapping your wings. Are you okay, Bije?"
At Meisa's question, Bije let out a sharp chirp and flapped her wings as if to say she was fine, then leaned her head against Turan’s side. Since they had paced the flight with her condition in mind, she wasn't as exhausted as she had been in the past.
"So, where exactly are we?"
"Since we crossed from the Southern Sea... if nothing's changed, this should be the grasslands," Solif said. "We need to move northeast to reach the main residence."
To the southeast of the Enril Desert lay a desolate grassland region. Like the wilderness of the west, no single Great Family ruled here. Instead, it was a buffer zone heavily influenced by the neighboring powers, Zahar and Baraha.
"Grasslands... is it much different from the Dakein Plains?"
"Very. For one, the soil is poor, and it rarely rains. You won't find many people farming here."
Meisa, who hailed from the Dakein Plains—the breadbasket of the world—looked on in disbelief. She couldn't imagine a land so barren.
The weight of Solif’s words became clear after they walked northeast for a few hours to let Bije rest. Despite their leisurely pace, they had covered at least eighty kilometers, yet there wasn't a single trace of proper farmland. They only saw occasional nomadic tents and riders on horseback.
"The fact that it's mostly nomads makes it similar to the Enril Desert," Turan noted. "Though that place at least has cities built around oases."
"There are almost no cities in these grasslands," Solif explained. "And naturally, very few noble families. Still, many powerful horse-type magical beasts roam here, so it's not without its value."
As he spoke, they saw herds of wild horses and wolves. Turan could feel several individuals among them awakening as magical beasts, some possessing mana on par with lower nobility. It was the kind of place where the children of Great Families or those of Tamer bloodlines came to prove themselves.
Of course, Turan’s group had long since outgrown such prey.
"It's annoying because some of the bastards from here cross into Baraha territory to commit banditry," Solif grumbled. "Sometimes even noble bandits appear."
"Noble bandits? Not even fallen knights?"
Solif smirked at Turan and Meisa’s bewildered expressions. "The people here lack resources, so they take pride in 'requisitioning' from others. I killed a few bandit nobles who tried their luck in the past."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just wipe them out?"
"These grasslands are vast. It's too tedious to search every corner, so we just kill the ones who show up. I guess you could call them humanoid magical beasts."
A deep disdain for the grassland people, likely ingrained in him by his upbringing, was evident in Solif's tone.
After walking for half a day, they rested for the night and then returned to the swing-carriage. As they flew northeast over the endless green expanse, Turan suddenly turned his gaze toward a presence approaching from the rear.
"...A Golden Eagle?"
"Bije?" Meisa asked.
"No, a different one."
Solif turned his head and let out a low whistle. A giant Golden Eagle, far larger than a man and ten times Bije’s size, was closing in. The mana radiating from it was at the level of a middle to upper-middle noble. Such a creature was a king among wild magical beasts, a terrifying predator in a region without Great Families.
"What’s its problem? Why is it following us?"
"Judging by its expression, it's pissed off," Turan said. "We’re probably in its territory."
The Golden Eagle let out a screech, much lower and heavier than Bije's. Whether she felt provoked or simply wanted to show off, Bije suddenly turned her head and glanced at Turan. Through their soul-bond, Turan knew exactly what she was asking.
"Let's get off," Turan said.
"Huh?"
Ignoring Solif’s confusion, Turan grabbed him and jumped from the swing, using flight magic to hover. Once Meisa had also disembarked, Bije snapped the ropes tied to the carriage and let out a defiant chirp of her own.
The wild Golden Eagle sent a mocking look at the smaller bird—and then Bije moved.
Skree!
With a sickening crunch, the giant eagle’s body buckled. Bije’s charge, delivered with her full weight and accelerated by Turan's wind magic, pierced straight through the beast's breastbone.
Even if the wild eagle was larger, Bije’s mana was vastly superior. With the ability to channel wind magic through Turan, the gap in combat power was insurmountable. The wild eagle hadn't even been able to track her movement.
"What a waste," Solif muttered.
"What is?"
"That bird. I think he would've been useful if we’d tamed him."
Solif couldn't sense mana like Turan, but he could judge the creature's value by its size and speed.
"It's difficult," Turan replied. "Creatures of that caliber almost never submit to humans. Soul-binding isn't a magic fix, either."
Even if suppressed by force, a magical beast that hadn't truly submitted was a liability. Even Bije had fled her previous master before Turan found her. Tamer families spent years and massive resources for a reason.
"If you want a companion, we'll look for a young, obedient one. Maybe there's one out there that fits you as well as Bije fits me."
While he comforted Solif, Bije struck the falling eagle with a bolt of lightning to ensure it was dead before returning to Turan. Seeing her triumphant expression, Turan said softly, "Let's wash you up first. We'll go down and mask the mana residue, too."
Bije’s eyes, which had been expecting praise, immediately turned sulky.
*
A day and a half later, the group left the grasslands and entered a new territory. As if in defiance of the desolate plains they had left behind, a lake as large as an inland sea appeared, fed by a network of sprawling rivers.
This was the domain of the Great Family Baraha—the Land of the Five Lakes.
"It's been a while," Solif whispered.
"Yeah. I suppose I should say 'welcome home.'"
A bittersweet expression crossed Solif’s face as he looked upon the land he had fled so long ago. Turan imagined he would feel much the same if he ever returned to Hisaril Hill.
From this point on, they had to worry about being recognized. They landed on a lakeshore near a city and began their final preparations.
First, Solif donned a mask that overlaid his features with those of a pirate they had killed during their voyage. He transformed into a boy who looked slightly younger than Turan, with dark grey hair.
Meisa used a magic tool of her own making to alter her hair and eye color. Her reddish-brown hair and blue eyes shifted to the same grey as Turan’s. Standing next to him, they looked like siblings.
"Come to think of it, you two are distant relatives, right?" Solif teased. "Both of Arabion blood."
"If you're going to call us relatives, then there are probably thousands of your relatives in these grasslands, too," Meisa snapped.
As she said, the blood connection was practically meaningless. Turan’s maternal ancestors had last been part of the main Arabion line at least five generations ago. However, her voice was a bit too sharp for a simple correction, and Solif grinned.
"Right, right. I'm sure you'd prefer not being relatives."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
While they bickered, Turan activated a magic tool to manipulate his apparent age. He set it to his early fifties. As the mana took hold, his voice grew rougher, carrying the weight of decades.
"Is it done? How do I look?"
Meisa nodded. "It turned out well."
"I've seen it before, but your impression really changes when you age," Solif added. "Even people who knew you would have a hard time placing you."
Turan pulled out a hand mirror. He stared at the face reflected back—a man in his prime, with the sharp eyes and high bridge of the nose characteristic of the Zahar line.
"It's surprising how little I look like Talis now," Turan muttered.
Resembling Talis had always been a risk, as those who knew the man would immediately suspect a blood relation. But as he aged his appearance, that resemblance faded. His mother's features became more prominent, giving him a look that was gentle yet vibrant.
"Does it make your body weaker?" Solif asked, fascinated.
"It only changes my outward appearance. My height, weight, and strength remain the same."
If he could truly manipulate his physical age, it would be a relic superior to the Lavitas immortality artifacts. Despite looking fifty, Turan was as powerful as ever. The only downside was that he couldn't take the form of a child, as he couldn't shrink his physical frame.
With their disguises complete, the three stood side by side. Turan looked to be in his early fifties, Meisa in her early twenties, and Solif in his late teens. With their matching grey hair, they looked like a family of travelers.
"It would've been better if his eyes were grey, too," Solif grumbled, looking at Turan.
"If we went that far, your maternal features wouldn't show at all," Turan replied lightly. "Let's just call it a natural variation."
Turan took the lead, pointing toward the city shimmering in the distance. From this moment on, they were no longer mages or fugitives. They were simply a family of travelers journeying through the land of Baraha.