Chapter 146
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 146
It went without saying that Armani’s existence had to be kept a strict secret, even within the Parsha family.
Was it not the fundamental mission of a mage to protect humanity from magical beasts and other races?
Considering how much the upper echelons of Arabion had been shaken when Turan recently cast suspicion on them being White Elves, it wasn't hard to guess the fallout if word got out that he was harboring a merman. The headache of Armani’s kin coming to find him would just be an added bonus.
Thus, to maintain absolute secrecy, Turan kept Armani hidden in the deepest part of the Parsha estate—inside his own private quarters—for several days. He forbade the boy from even showing his face to anyone except a few trusted individuals.
“But didn't the mages from Ofen already see him? They saw us traveling with him and everything.”
“I’ve already sworn them to silence. If word leaks... well, things will get uncomfortable for everyone involved.”
Turan replied to Solif’s question with a chillingly calm expression.
Although he was the head of the Great House of Parsha and the liege of the Lord of Ofen, the bond of sovereign and vassal between them was still paper-thin. As such, Turan had paid a considerable price to shut the mouths of the Lord of Ofen and his subordinates. He had given away a significant portion of his wealth and even a useful magic tool.
If rumors still managed to leak despite such an excessive reward for a mere mage family? Then the whip would have to follow the carrot. He only hoped it wouldn't come to that.
After about a week had passed, Asiz finally arrived with a newly crafted magic tool, his face looking rather haggard.
“Is this it?”
“Yeah. It doesn't have any grand functions, so it didn't take long to make.”
It was a mask designed to cover not just the face, but the entire head. The front was a featureless silver base, while the sides were adorned with decorations reminiscent of a lion’s mane, effectively concealing a merman’s characteristic ear fins.
Turan took the mask, turned it over in his hands, and then held it out to Armani, who was standing nearby.
“Want to try it on?”
“Let’s see... Oh! I can see everything clearly even with this on!”
“That’s what it’s supposed to do.”
The mask Armani wore had two main functions. First, as just mentioned, it did not obstruct the wearer’s vision or senses. Wearing something like that all day without such a feature would be enough to drive anyone mad.
And second...
“Let’s see.”
“Ouch—that hurts!”
“Good. It’s not coming off.”
Turan nodded as he tried to tug the mask off Armani’s head. The function that prevented anyone but the wearer from removing it worked even better than he had expected. Of course, it would break if enough force was applied, but at least it wouldn't get knocked off by a passing stranger.
“Wear that from now on.”
“Does this mean I can go outside now?!”
“Yes. But you must never take it off in front of others.”
“Of course!”
Perhaps feeling stifled from being confined to Turan’s quarters, Armani let out a cheer and dashed out while still wearing the mask.
The members of the Parsha household were bewildered by the sudden appearance of this mysterious masked boy. Who was he that he hid his face, and why did the Family Head care for him so much?
Normally, one might think he was a son, but Turan of Kalamaf was only twenty-four years old—hardly old enough to be the father of a boy who looked to be in his mid-teens, even with the mask on. And whenever such a suspicious person appeared, there were bound to be attempts to dig for information.
The Parsha family’s most famous spy moved immediately.
“You said your name was Arn, right?”
“That is correct!”
Arn. That was Armani’s new name.
Turan knew from his several experiences with disguises that an alias should be somewhat similar to the original name so that one could respond to it naturally. In truth, considering that the mermen’s intelligence capabilities were limited to the island regions of the North Sea, he probably didn't even need an alias, but it was always better to be cautious.
Seeing Armani’s innocent response, Berit’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light as she asked, “I’m Berit. I’m the Family Head’s second cousin. May I ask what your relationship is with him?”
“We are friends!”
Berit, who had even subtly dropped her surname 'Zahar' to lower his guard, frowned at the simplistic answer.
Friends.
She immediately recalled the faces of those Turan called friends: Meisa Arabion, Solif Baraha...
She could guess that he generally only considered those of his own level—heirs of Great Families—as friends. Asiz was the only exception, but even Asiz was a talent from an Enchanter family that any Great Family would covet.
Is he the heir of Lavitas? He’s too different in build from what I’ve heard about the Ruban heir.
In reality, Lavitas had no designated heir since House Head Osel was still young, but Berit didn't know that. The Lavitas lands were so isolationist that intelligence didn't flow freely.
After a bit more conversation, she wrote a letter to the Zahar main house, guessing at Arn’s identity. She wrote that he was likely the heir of some Great Family, or at least a noble of a bloodline that would be useful to take as a vassal.
While the clumsy spy was unintentionally spreading false information, Turan had already sent a letter far to the south—toward the Lavitas fleet that should be cutting through the Southern Sea toward the Baraha lands.
“I really hope the thing I’m worried about doesn't happen.”
“No way. No matter how bad our luck is, what are the odds of running into them?”
As Turan muttered to himself while sitting on the lounge sofa, Meisa, who was lying with her head in his lap, answered with her eyes closed.
Having finished Solif’s new magic tool just yesterday, she was currently in a state of terrible weakness. She was so drained that she wouldn't even be able to defeat a mid-ranking noble. Because of this, Turan made sure she never left his protective range after she emerged from the workshop, keeping her close just as he was doing now.
Berit’s eyes sometimes burned with jealousy at the sight, but the excuse was too solid to complain about. The family’s strongest combatant was unwell, so of course he would provide close protection. What could she say?
“Here, say ‘ah’—”
“I have hands, Turan.”
It was mealtime. Despite her grumbling, Meisa opened her mouth and took the spoonful of soup Turan offered. As she quietly chewed, she suddenly remembered the days they spent at the bakery years ago.
Back then, she had thought the mere idea of being fed was incredibly scandalous and indecent. How on earth had they ended up engaging in such public displays of affection as a daily routine just a few years later?
Then again, if one were talking about indecency, nothing compared to being knocked unconscious and having food shoved down one's throat through a tube. She had accepted it at the time because her health was so poor and the situation was desperate, but thinking back on it now, it was truly horrifying.
As she looked at Turan with those thoughts in mind, he tilted his head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, just thinking.”
Of course, it wasn't that she disliked the current situation. Was this how a chick felt being protected by its mother bird? Unlike fighting side-by-side as comrades, there was a certain tranquility in being a vulnerable being protected by another.
It had been years since she lost her mother and lived without being able to trust anyone as a guardian. To Meisa, this felt like a nostalgia that brought her back to her childhood.
*
While the two lovers were busy showering each other with affection regardless of others' gazes, Bije returned from the Southern Sea with a reply.
Turan had previously asked for a lock of Lida’s hair to give to Bije, allowing the eagle to use tracking magic to accurately find the battleship in the middle of the ocean and deliver the letter. The golden eagle, the scent of the sea still lingering on its feathers, demanded a reward with a proud expression.
— I worked hard, so give me something delicious!
“Of course I have it ready, my lady.”
Though Bije sometimes enjoyed intellectual activities like reading history books as Lida had advised, her most primal pleasure was still fine dining. While the bird enjoyed a whole roasted pig glazed with honey, Turan opened the reply Lida had written.
[I received your letter. Fortunately, we did not encounter the Great Sea Serpent you mentioned, but the frequency of merman sightings has certainly increased. We are currently passing through the southern part of the Enril Desert, and there are even rumors that some of the mermen have moved inland rather than attacking the coast. Be careful, as some might be heading toward Kalamaf.]
The rest of the letter detailed minor incidents involving Osel during the voyage and the scheduled landing date. She had written it hoping that Turan would send Solif to meet them at that time as promised.
Folding the letter, Turan let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the worst-case scenario he had imagined had been avoided. The sudden appearance of mermen was likely just other merman tribes who had been living in the Southern Sea fleeing in terror from the arrival of the Great Sea Serpent clan.
And what he could infer from the postscript was...
“That’s a relief. It seems the Great Sea Serpent clan has already moved up toward the North Sea. It would have been terrible if they had clashed with Lavitas.”
“You think the group that went inland is them?”
“There’s no other reason for mermen to head into the desert. Ordinary mermen would turn into dried fish in no time, even with oases around.”
As seen from how Armani survived for months trapped in the bilge of a pirate ship, mermen didn't suffer major disabilities just because they weren't in water. However, unlike humans, their skin was protected by a somewhat slippery mucus, so they needed periodic hydration. This was why Armani’s quarters always had a bathtub filled with cool water.
“Arn, if your kin were to fight on land, how much of their strength could they use?”
Turan used the alias to help him get used to it, and the masked Armani tilted his head repeatedly. The lion’s mane on the sides of the mask swayed with every movement, a sensation he seemed to enjoy.
“Hmm, it’s not that we can’t fight on land, but we’d be much weaker than we are near water. I’d guess... about half?”
“That much, huh.”
Turan clicked his tongue and discarded one of the plans he had prepared. He had considered using Berit to leak information about the Great Sea Serpents’ northward movement to the Zahar family. If the serpents could hold their own on land, he could have gained an advantage by letting the two sides exhaust each other, but according to Armani, they would likely just be slaughtered.
Even worse would be if the Zahar family suppressed the serpents or negotiated with them to become allies. It was better to let them head to the North Sea as planned and fight the Carmine family.
As they talked, Solif took Lida’s letter and let out a sharp breath after reading it.
“In three weeks?”
“That’s right. Information might have already leaked to the Baraha side, and they might come out to fight a defensive war, so we need to join up a bit early.”
Since they couldn't move directly to the Baraha mainland through the Southern Sea, the basic plan was to land in the plains and move north, just as Turan’s group had done in the past.
Solif took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling repeatedly, like someone whose chest felt tight.
“Are you nervous?”
“Extremely.”
Like mages of most Great Families, Solif didn't have a particularly deep personal connection with his House Head. This wasn't true for all heirs, but in Solif’s case, it was likely because he had been raised as a vessel, and they didn't want to create any 'impurities' during his education.
Turan gestured slightly toward Solif and said, “But you have the item we got this time. Trust in that.”
“Heh.”
Solif gave a silly grin as he felt the cloth hanging from his back—the magic tool Meisa had created recently. Because she had invested nearly a month of her power and even accepted being weakened for a period, its function surpassed even most Holy Relics.
“Don't just rely on that, though. You’re still practicing soul magic, right? And your regular magic?”
“Ugh, stop nagging... Of course I am.”
“Then bring out your spirit body. Let’s pull out a few more needles today.”
“Ugh.”
Solif made a face as if he were sick of it and shook his head, but soon obediently brought out his spirit body. Since Meisa’s spirit body had been weakened by the aftermath of crafting the magic tool, only Solif was currently receiving the treatment to remove the spiritual needles.
The effort of continuous removal had paid off; the needles, which had numbered in the hundreds when they first started, had been reduced to about forty or fifty.
“At this rate, we might actually get them all out before the expedition...”
“Will something good really happen if we pull them all out?”
“I told you, yes.”
Turan didn't know exactly what the effect would be, but he had a gut feeling—one bordering on certainty—that it wouldn't be bad. And so, the sound of needles being pulled and short screams echoed once again, but only in the spiritual world.
*
They say it is always calmest before the storm. As the war drew near, the atmosphere of the Parsha family became quieter than ever.
Meisa, having recovered her strength, left Turan’s side to resume her daily life, and Solif was often absent for training. In the midst of this, Turan was so busy he felt like he needed two bodies.
As the Head of Parsha, he had to meet with the lords of various cities who had become his vassals to check on and resolve their grievances, and he had to sign off on significant issues concerning the cities and the entire Gray Zone. Meanwhile, he also took charge of the combat training for the Parsha nobles and knights who made up his direct army.
Normally, for mages who had reached a certain level, another mage’s advice would be seen as unnecessary meddling, but in Turan’s case, it was different.
“You’ve improved a lot, Ojo. Your casting speed has doubled.”
“It... it is an honor! My Lord!”
A lower-ranking noble from the nearby Korcan family shouted in gratitude at Turan’s gesture of calling him by name.
These mages, conscripted under the name of the Parsha family, were rooted in their respective houses but served as Turan’s direct troops. Naturally, they didn't have much of a bond with him, so they weren't an easy force to manage.
To address this, Turan not only had his enchanters create magic tools for them to use, but he also took the time to advise and encourage them on their magic techniques whenever he could. At first, the Parsha mages thought their powerful but young leader was just showing off, but they soon found they couldn't ignore his advice, as their skills improved every time they followed it.
It wasn't this easy in the past.
Recalling when he first taught magic to Asiz, Turan let out an internal chuckle. Back then, he had been frustrated because he couldn't understand why other mages couldn't learn and handle magic as easily as he did. But after meeting many people throughout his life, he had naturally grown accustomed to it.
To those who lacked, give teachings from a lower perspective.
Was it because he had traveled to many places and experienced many things from a young age that he had internalized knowledge that even those dozens of times his age couldn't easily master?
After finishing his daily routine, Turan gave orders to those practicing their magic diligently.
“After dinner tonight, all designated troops are to assemble at the estate’s 3rd training ground.”
“Yes, My Lord!”
At the command of their lord, the Parsha mages showed obedience rather than questions. That was the result of the control he had gained over the past two months by approaching his troops as a mentor.
Turan looked down at those bowing politely with a complex expression.
Do I really have to take them...
The thought of taking only Meisa and Solif wouldn't leave his mind. Those two would likely not die no matter what, but if he took a large force of weaker individuals, some of them would surely perish.
But a shepherd sometimes had to push his sheepdogs toward the threat of death. While the wolf was occupied with the sheepdogs, the shepherd could more easily land a stone in the enemy’s head.
Leaving the training ground, Turan looked up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. Tonight, when that sun set and the moon rose, they would be in the eastern lands of Baraha.