Chapter 135
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 135
Following their lengthy discussion, Lida headed back inside, citing the need to tend to the Family Head once more.
If she didn't recover her mana and return to her post immediately, the others would have to strain themselves even further to fill the void she left behind.
Guided by a servant, Turan returned to Lida’s estate, his mind churning over their conversation.
The Head of the Baraha Family...
He hadn't expected them to play such an absurdly bold hand—venturing directly into the stronghold of another Great Family to launch an assassination attempt.
Simply leaving one's own territory to visit another family was a radical move in itself, but even that felt like a minor detail compared to what had actually transpired. Had Osel not been left in critical condition, Lavitas would have been well within their rights to declare war on Baraha. No other family would have dared to defend such a despicable sneak attack.
Was it because they looked down on Lavitas? No, they said the other side was quite badly injured as well.
Unless there was a staggering gap between the Head of Baraha and Osel, the fact that the attacker was also seriously wounded suggested they were at a level where a proper fight could occur. Of course, being within the Lavitas stronghold meant Osel had more resources at his disposal.
Piecing the information together, it seemed more likely that the Baraha Head’s actions were born of extreme desperation. For reasons unknown, they needed Solif that badly.
The Enril Desert stands in the way, but... word will reach them soon enough. I’ll have to stay on guard.
The one silver lining was Lida’s testimony that the Head of Baraha had also sustained significant injuries. Unless the wounds were fatal, they would eventually recover, but it wouldn't be a short process. Furthermore, since many Baraha nobles had died during their two clashes with Turan, the family was likely struggling just to manage its own affairs for the time being.
Regardless, the conclusion was clear.
He had to find and return the stolen Lavitas Holy Relic, the task Osel and Lida had previously commissioned him for. If he succeeded, Kalamaph would gain a powerful ally to the south, and Turan would finally be cured of his lung disease. Even using the relic briefly before returning it would suffice.
The steppe region, was it?
Even amidst the chaos following the Baraha Head’s ambush, Lavitas had not ceased its efforts to track the traitor who fled with the Holy Relic.
From Zahar’s Enril Desert to the various islands of the Southern Sea, the Great Steppes of the southeast, and even the Land of the Five Lakes in the east—Baraha territory—hundreds of mages had been scouring foreign lands, sending word back to the main house through various means.
As a result, a report had recently arrived stating that traces of the traitor had been found in the southeastern steppes. Apparently, a person capable of using powerful healing magic had joined a nomadic mage tribe alliance, one famous for its strength even in the steppes.
Naturally, it was impossible for Lavitas to recover it on their own. Their combat-capable nobles were few to begin with, and their powerful high-ranking nobles were currently preoccupied with treating the Family Head. On the other hand, if they recklessly commissioned another Great Family, there was a high chance they would simply pocket the Holy Relic and wash their hands of the matter.
Interestingly, Turan had arrived exactly two days after they received this news.
So there was a reason you called me here specifically.
“It’s too dangerous a topic to convey by letter. You have no idea how happy I was to hear you were at my estate. Though I was surprised when you noticed Osel’s condition immediately.”
Recalling their final exchange, Turan reached his room, pulled out his hand mirror, and infused it with mana.
Three light pulses, then three strong ones.
Shortly after he entered the prearranged signal, Meisa’s face appeared on the other side. This was the result of the time he had spent improving the magic device’s performance recently.
[You called early. You’re in Merem, right? Did the treatment go well?]
“Unfortunately, not yet.”
Turan gave Meisa a summarized version of his conversation with Lida. As she listened, her expression turned grave.
[Then...]
“It looks like I’ll have to make a trip to the steppes.”
[Will you be okay?]
“Me? If I move alone, who’s going to mess with me? I’m more worried about you guys.”
The distance between the steppes at the southeastern edge of the world and Kalamaph, which was situated slightly northwest of the center, was immense. For an ordinary person, the round trip alone would take nearly half a year on foot. While Turan could make the journey in a few days by flying on Bije, even that felt too far. Anything could happen in that short span of time.
Meisa let out a small sigh at his words.
[It can’t be helped... Just be careful. Not that there’s anyone in those backwaters who could be a match for you anyway.]
“True. But how are things going on your end?”
[Good. Just today, Solif received pledges of alliance from three cities. You could say we’re halfway there.]
After signing the non-aggression pact with the Zahar nobles, the leadership of Kalamaph had begun a new operation: unifying the Gray Zone they occupied.
Of course, that was a polite way of putting it. To be blunt, it was the process of making Kalamaph City the equivalent of a Great Family, receiving the fealty of all the mage families in the Gray Zone. Since the situation of three powerful nobles from different bloodlines ruling together was so unprecedented, neither they nor anyone else quite knew how to define it.
Surprisingly, the mage families of the Gray Zone didn't show much resistance to Kalamaph’s attempt. After the war twenty years ago, they too felt the need for a Great Family to protect them. In such a climate, the rise of a power strong enough to sign an equal contract with Zahar was actually a welcome development.
Of course, some ambitious individuals might be seething in private.
However, since the fact that Turan possessed Zahar blood had spread through the grapevine, some were concerned. There were opinions questioning whether they would effectively become a Zahar dependency, potentially leading to a second Great War with Arabion. Considering how poor their relationship with Arabion was, it wasn't a baseless worry.
“Anyway, I’ll try to return as quickly as possible.”
[Alright. I’ll be waiting. Well then.]
Even after they finished talking, neither of them cut the mana flow, leaving their faces reflected in the hand mirror. Turan hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I love you.”
The mirror cut off immediately, as if the device itself were blushing.
*
Since every second was precious, Turan left Merem immediately and began flying east.
Perhaps his urgency was contagious; thanks to Bije exerting her full strength, Turan was able to leave the Siraf Wetlands behind and see the deep blue Southern Sea that very night.
Unlike before, when he would find a suitable ship to travel, this time he took the bold approach of flying continuously on Bije alone. It was less stable, but the travel speed was incomparably faster.
Three days.
That was how long it took for Turan to cross the Southern Sea and reach the steppe region. He even spent one of those days sleeping while floating on the water because there were no islands in sight. When he woke up the next day, his face was submerged, but fortunately, he had activated his Carmine bloodline, so breathing wasn't an issue.
On the third day of non-stop flight, Turan arrived at the steppes. He first comforted Bije, who had worked hard during the flight, then stored her inside his body and moved inland.
After walking for about an hour, the thick scent of blood began to prick his nose.
In this world, the cycle of predator and prey continued even in places unseen, so the smell of blood wasn't particularly remarkable. However, the scent of human blood was different. It was the same way he had sensed the death of Labus, the village elder, back at Hisaril Hill.
— Mm, a fight...?
“It’s nothing, so you can go back to sleep.”
When Bije woke up, sensing his shift in emotion, and grumbled from within him, Turan soothed her and immediately approached the source of the scent. Before long, he spotted a small nomadic tribe of about a few dozen people.
“Aaaagh!”
“Run! Hurry!”
“Where to?!”
The nomads' tents were half-collapsed, and people were screaming as they fled in all directions. The threat was a single massive horse—a magical beast even larger and more ferocious than Tilly.
Crack! Every time the beast galloped with its mane fluttering, heads were crushed and torsos shattered under its hooves. The nomads seemed to have attempted some resistance, as broken spears and arrows were scattered everywhere, but naturally, none had managed to pierce its hide or draw blood.
Is this what it’s like in places without a proper mage family?
He had heard from Solif that the nomads of these steppes enjoyed raiding each other, as well as the prosperous Baraha lands to the north. According to the way Turan’s mother had taught him to categorize people—a method he had internalized—they were wolves.
However, it was hard to associate that ferocity with the people currently being trampled by the magical beast. They were like a flock of sheep being slaughtered in vain.
After a moment’s deliberation, Turan stepped forward, manifested a spear of flame, and hurled it at the beast.
[ Neeeeeigh! ]
The horse, with the sharp reflexes typical of a magical beast, sensed the fire spear and twisted its body. However, Turan, who had already set his Holy Relic to the Sun bloodline, smoothly curved the spear’s trajectory and pierced its chest. The massive horse’s body was charred black in an instant.
It’s over.
The creature possessed mana equivalent to a mid-ranking noble and would have been quite infamous on the northern continent, but to Turan, it was an opponent he could strike down as easily as breathing.
Silence fell over the steppe.
While Turan absorbed the creature’s mana, the nomads who had been struggling atop their panicked horses jumped down and prostrated themselves.
“O Shaman.”
“To burn such a powerful beast... you are truly a divine being...”
“Stay still.”
Turan’s command was directed not at the people, but at the startled, rearing horses. Terrified by the magical beast and the sight of Turan burning it to death, the horses were about to trample their owners who had jumped from their backs.
Using telekinesis to physically restrain them while simultaneously exerting mind control magic to calm them, the awe in the nomads' eyes intensified.
After a moment, a middle-aged man who appeared to be the eldest among them stepped forward and spoke to Turan.
“Great Shaman of Spirits, have you come from a land other than these Great Steppes?”
The clothes Turan wore were travel garments Meisa had personally enchanted. Naturally, the style was different from the local nomads' attire, making it easy to recognize.
Turan sensed a complex mix of emotions in the nomads' eyes. Admiration and gratitude, but also fear. To them, foreign mages were likely associated with those from Zahar or Baraha who came to subjugate them.
“I’m looking for the Golden Fleece Tribe Alliance. Do you know where they are?”
“I have heard they are a powerful tribe in the interior, but they are far from us, so I have only heard the name.”
Turan clicked his tongue at the disappointing answer but didn't dwell on it. He hadn't helped them expecting any significant reward anyway.
“Cough.”
Then, a cough—one he was now quite familiar with—escaped him. As Turan reflexively covered his mouth, the middle-aged man’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Are you perhaps unwell?”
For some reason, the man seemed pleased by the information that Turan was in poor health. When Turan shot him a glare, the man realized his mistake and quickly bowed his head.
“It is only that, if you head south from here for about half a day, there is a tribe with a shaman who possesses the power of healing. If you wish, I can guide you there.”
“The power of healing?”
The Lavitas traitor was supposed to be with the Golden Fleece Tribe Alliance. After a brief thought, Turan realized that they wouldn't be the only healers here. Surely the Lavitas mages chasing them would be in the area as well. This sounded like one of them.
“Half a day to the south, you say?”
*
A few dozen minutes later, using flight and detection magic, Turan found the tribe mentioned by the nomadic leader he had rescued. There were about three hundred of them.
Indeed, as he had heard, there was a mage of lower-noble rank inside. What was unexpected was that there was only one; he sensed no other knights or nobles. According to Lida, Lavitas should have dispatched a group of nobles and knights for the search. Could this be a local noble of a healer bloodline?
Regardless, he could find out the details once he got there. Turan approached the nomads directly.
A few of them, who were peacefully grazing their sheep, saw Turan and galloped toward him on horseback.
“Halt!”
“Where did you come from?!”
Unlike the previous group, their eyes were filled with deep hostility and fear. The foreign clothes were likely the source of the hostility, and the fear stemmed from the fact that the clothes were too clean and he wasn't even riding a horse. Traveling alone in these steppes without a horse meant one was either insane or a mage.
To meet their expectations, Turan lightly snapped his fingers, conjuring a flame.
“F-Fire...”
“A Shaman of Fire! It’s the demons from the north!”
“Aaaagh!”
“Help us, Shaman!”
At the simple display of fire magic, the nomads screamed and fled toward their tents, giving him no chance to explain that he wasn't there to attack them.
Fortunately, the Lavitas mage sensed the commotion and stepped out of a tent to approach him. He was a man who looked to be about forty, with a pale complexion. Judging by the amount of mana he possessed, he was likely between a hundred and a hundred and fifty years old.
“Have you come from Baraha?”
“No, I haven't. And you?”
“I am called Mago. A wandering noble without even a family name.”
Of course, contrary to his words, the two symbols of Lavitas were harmonized within him. It was likely a cover identity to avoid revealing that Lavitas was searching the steppes.
As Turan took a step forward, Mago instinctively raised his hand in caution. Since the man posed no threat, Turan ignored the gesture and whispered so the nomads behind them couldn't hear.
“Greetings, Mago. I was sent by Lady Lida.”
“Lady Lida, you say...?”
“Yes. I’m here to find the Holy Relic.”
Mago’s eyes widened. He seemed unsure whether Turan’s words were true or if he was being tested.
“I heard the traitor is with the Golden Fleece Tribe. Is that correct?”
“T-That’s right... You really were sent by Lady Lida.”
Convinced that Turan was an ally since he knew that much, Mago shed tears of relief. Had he suffered much here? His clothes were as ragged as the local nomads', and he had dark circles under his eyes. Even for a lower-ranking noble, he shouldn't have had much trouble living comfortably.
“Then you can guide me to where the Golden Fleece Tribe is.”
“Yes, of course. But, if I may ask... your name?”
Instead of answering, Turan simply gave a soft smile. He had gone to the trouble of changing his face just in case, so he couldn't give his real name, and he was too lazy to come up with an alias. Feeling the unspoken pressure, Mago changed the subject instead of prying further.
“The steppes are currently in a state of great turmoil.”
“So it seems.”
Had he not just seen a magical beast trampling a tribe moments ago? Mago shook his head at Turan’s remark.
“It’s not just 'turmoil'; it’s practically a war. I originally had several companions, but they were all killed in the crossfire. I’m the only one left, taking refuge with this tribe.”
He explained that while the population density here was lower than in other regions, meaning the quantity and quality of mages were generally lower, there were still a few powerful nobles if one looked for them. All of them were currently fighting over the powerful healing ability possessed by the Lavitas traitor. Mago and his companions had been caught in the middle while trying to confirm the traitor’s identity.
“In that situation, are you sure they still have the Holy Relic?”
“I haven't seen it myself, so I can't be certain, but...”
Mago muttered defensively that since no rumors about the object had surfaced, the traitor likely still had it. Turan nodded and patted him on the shoulder.
“Anyway, you’ve worked hard. I’ll take it from here, so just guide me.”
“W-Will that be alright...? Perhaps we should request more reinforcements.”
To Mago, Turan looked far too young. Since Mago lacked confidence in his own mana, he didn't try to measure Turan’s, but even if the youth were strong, he would surely lack the power of older, more experienced nobles. Wouldn't it be better to have at least one or two more experts from the family?
In response to his concern, Turan projected his mana, carefully controlling the output.
Mago stopped suggesting that they needed reinforcements.