Chapter 34
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 34
After the meeting concluded and he returned to his quarters, Turan fell into deep thought while stroking the Golden Eagle’s head.
The second-in-command of the Zahar family—a man so strikingly similar to Turan that the head of the Kal family had been reminded of him the moment he saw Turan’s face...
For now, he wasn't someone Turan could simply visit. Being the second-in-command of a Great Family meant he was a mage even more powerful than Meisa. If Turan was a stain the man wished to erase, or something of that nature, Turan would undoubtedly be crushed like a bug the moment his existence was discovered.
Still... it’s not bad to have one definitive lead.
At the very least, he now had someone to seek out and question once he became stronger. There was no need to rush. He was still young—even child-like for a mage—and he had plenty of time.
Turan spent the next few days at the Dirmin Palace. It was common courtesy to stay for a short while after receiving such hospitality. Time passed quickly, as he found teaching the Golden Eagle how to write quite entertaining.
“I am a Golden Eagle.”
[I am a Golden Eagle]
“Good, you wrote it well.”
[Gud rote it well]
“I didn't tell you to copy that. And you spelled it wrong.”
By the afternoon of the third day, the Golden Eagle was finally able to construct basic sentences. Although it often made spelling errors if the sentences grew even slightly long, it was already more literate than most uneducated commoners.
“Have you decided on a name?”
[Not yet]
“Is ‘Not Yet’ your name?”
Instead of writing a reply, the Golden Eagle shook its head as if telling him not to make such unfunny jokes. Turan let out a short laugh, but his expression soon turned serious.
“Can you tell me now? Why you chose me.”
At Turan’s question, the Golden Eagle tilted its head before slowly scratching words into the dirt. It felt as though the creature was choosing its words as carefully as a human would.
[You are gud. Your inside fits me purfectly.]
“Did you mean to say ‘good’?”
When Turan pronounced the word and wrote it correctly in the dirt, the Golden Eagle clicked its beak and nodded.
“And the rest is full of mistakes, too. You still have a lot to learn.”
Watching the creature’s dejected expression, Turan analyzed what he had just heard.
Normally, there were limits to a mage’s spiritual bond with a magical beast. A limit existed in proportion to one's mana; if one tried to bond with stronger or more numerous beasts, they would eventually reach a point where no more bonds could be formed. If such limits didn't exist, Tamers would have long ago conquered the world with thousands of magical beasts.
However, there were several problems with assuming Turan’s limit was simply exceptionally high. First, the successor of a Great Family had come to see this creature. Someone of that stature couldn't possibly have less mana than Turan. Furthermore, the eagle had been sold before—though it escaped—which meant it had been bonded to others in the past.
In other words, there was something else at play besides the mana limit. Perhaps it was his innate bloodline, a mixture of Zahar and another family...
Turan explained this theory, but the Golden Eagle itself didn't seem to know exactly what that "perfect fit" feeling was.
In the middle of their conversation, a boisterous laugh rang out from behind them.
“Hey, Turan! What are you doing moping around in the yard with a bird?”
After their first meeting, the Gashub couple had seemingly decided that Turan was nothing more than a lucky small-fry and lost interest in him. However, unlike them, the fallen noble Dolf Meren had begun to pester him, visiting his quarters and acting overly familiar.
If he had just come to hang out, Turan would have entertained him briefly before sending him away. The problem was that Dolf kept trying to impose himself physically, claiming they should build rapport as fellow "physical-type" nobles. It was obvious he didn't actually want to be friends; he just wanted to enjoy a sense of superiority by looking down on Turan in the areas where he felt he had the upper hand.
Regardless, his involvement with this annoying man would end today.
As Turan stood up and turned around, Dolf tilted his head, noticing his attire.
“Hmm? Are you going somewhere?”
Turan was fully dressed, wearing the long white robe favored by the locals and carrying a bag at his side. Attached to the side of the bag was a newly installed long metal rod. The Golden Eagle hopped onto it and glared at Dolf.
“I’m leaving today.”
“Where to?”
“I’m just going to travel around the desert.”
“You should have said something! I’m hurt, considering our friendship.”
Turan made his lack of interest in further conversation very clear, but Dolf ignored it and continued to act friendly.
“I was thinking of leaving soon myself. Do you need a guide? I know this area like the back of my hand.”
“No, thank you.”
A noble guide was a luxury, but Turan felt like he would die of frustration if he traveled with this man. To Turan’s surprise, Dolf nodded readily at the rejection.
“That’s a shame. Let me know if you change your mind!”
It was a bit unsettling how quickly and cheerfully he said his goodbyes and disappeared, but Turan was just glad to be rid of him.
After notifying the head of the Kal family of his departure, Turan left the palace, accompanied by two knights who came to see him off. Instead of leaving Komad immediately, Turan spoke to one of the knights, who was there both to escort and monitor him.
“Can you show me where they sell books?”
“Yes, Master.”
Komad’s largest bookstore was near the harbor. Since books were expensive luxury items, there were guards at the entrance. The guard froze when he saw Turan approaching with a large Golden Eagle perched at his side and two knights following behind him.
“Uh, ah...”
“Let’s go in.”
Passing him by, Turan entered the bookstore and had a brief conversation with a middle-aged woman who appeared to be the owner. He bought two books: a travelogue and guidebook that would be useful for desert travel, and a religious text concerning the Enril region. He paid for them using the two books he had previously purchased in Abacha.
As he stepped out with his two new books, Turan’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced in one direction. Amidst the people who appeared only as flickering embers to his senses, he saw a single, blazing inferno.
*
Feeling the cool winter desert wind, Turan opened the book he had just purchased once he was clear of Komad.
A Guide for Desert Travelers, written by Brisso Zahar.
Reading the dedication to the patron—the most important part of any book—he saw that it had been written by a knight of the Zahar family with the direct support of the main house.
It would have been better if there was a proper map... but this isn't bad.
Unless he wanted to be branded a spy, a fallen noble couldn't exactly demand internal maps of a Great Family. Even the map Keorn had drawn for him was just a rough sketch showing which Great Family occupied which region, rather than a proper topographical map.
After reading the travelogue for a while, Turan decided to head toward a city called Banipel, located southwest of Komad. He had seen information suggesting that ruins of the Old Empire were located there. It would be ideal if he were lucky enough to encounter someone like a Librarian, but even if not, it seemed like it would be a good sightseeing trip.
“Shall we get going, then?”
Muttering to himself, Turan looked down at the Golden Eagle. Instead of riding it, he gave its head a light pat and began to walk on his own two feet as before. The eagle tilted its head as if wondering why he wasn't riding, but it didn't seem to mind hanging onto the bag, so it tucked its neck in and closed its eyes.
Walking through the desert, he realized it wasn't a world filled only with sand, as the travelogues he’d read in the past had suggested. He frequently encountered areas strewn with rocks and gravel, which reminded him of the wilderness below Hisaril Hill in his hometown.
By focusing his consciousness through the power of the Holy Relic, he could feel the sparks of life blooming even in such a desolate landscape. Then again, a Great Family couldn't be established in a region so barren that absolutely nothing could live there. Animals had to thrive for magical beasts to be born, and by consuming those beasts, powerful mages could be raised.
Using the power of the Holy Relic, Turan identified a magical beast among the passing animals and immediately sent the Golden Eagle to hunt. It flew with the speed of an arrow and snatched up a large, gray-furred rabbit.
Of all things, a rabbit magical beast.
Fortunately, unlike the one that had slaughtered the monster hunters in the past, this rabbit wasn't a particularly strong magical beast, so it had no chance to counterattack. Its mana was also weak, so it wasn't much help for growth, but the Golden Eagle seemed to enjoy the hunt, chirping happily as it tore the rabbit apart and devoured its flesh.
Turan opened his water skin and manipulated the water to wash the creature’s blood-stained talons.
He walked like this for several hours.
Near sunset, Turan discovered a lush area that seemed out of place in the desolation of the desert. It was a large oasis, surrounded by a small forest and grasslands nourished by its waters. According to the travelogue, there were over a thousand such oases in the Enril Desert, and nomadic tribes used them as bases.
Even here, dozens of tents were spread out around the oasis, and sheep were scattered about, resting on leashes. Though they lived in a different region, they were shepherds just like him.
“I am a passing traveler. May I rest here?”
The nomads were wary of Turan’s arrival at first, but they relaxed when they realized he was a lone individual with no real armaments other than the large Golden Eagle. The forearm-length dagger at his waist was considered a tool for daily life, not a weapon.
“You are welcome, traveler. May the kindness I show be returned in full. By the way, is that Golden Eagle a magical beast?”
“Of course not. He’s just a bit on the large side.”
Turan lied nonchalantly and was invited into the old chieftain’s tent for a meal. The nomads were the type to consider it a dishonor to treat a guest poorly, so he was able to enjoy a fairly luxurious feast. Of course, it couldn't compare to the meals of a noble family in terms of quantity or quality.
“Where does our brother hail from?”
“I came from Komad.”
“The great city by the sea? You look young to have traveled so far alone.”
Of course, Turan had only run lightly for three or four hours, but for commoners, it was a distance that would take several days of non-stop walking. The village elder continued to pry, asking where he was going and what he did for a living, even going so far as to suggest he marry a girl from the tribe and stay.
Turan realized why; for a tribe of this size, there was a noticeable lack of young men. He could imagine several reasons: attacks by magical beasts, bandits, or perhaps some kind of natural disaster. While such things were hard to imagine on the Dakein Plains, the Zahar family, based in the vast Enril Desert, couldn't be compared to Arabion, which had a high population density thanks to its high productivity. The difference in the area a single noble or knight could protect was massive.
After politely brushing off the chieftain’s meddling and finishing his meal, Turan announced he would be heading southwest again.
“You’re going to walk the desert after sunset in this winter? You’ll freeze to death! It’s madness. Stay here for the night.”
The old man insisted, but Turan declined and set out. It wasn't because he thought the chieftain might sneak a girl into his tent in the middle of the night. Rather...
“Come out, Mr. Dolf.”
As he neared the edge of the oasis, Turan murmured quietly toward the rear. Before long, Dolf Meren emerged from behind a rock with an embarrassed expression.
“My, you knew?”
Thanks to the Holy Relic, Turan was able to accurately pinpoint the location of any noble or knight within a dozen meters, or even hundreds of meters if he expanded his senses. And according to those senses, Dolf had been tailing him ever since he left the Dirmin family.
This was why he had walked here instead of riding the Golden Eagle. If he had flown, he could have shaken him off immediately, but then he wouldn't have known the man’s purpose for following him. He had planned to flee if he sensed Dolf bringing allies, but even with his senses expanded to hundreds of meters, he felt no other presence.
“I just thought it might be dangerous for a young friend to travel alone. This desert is quite a perilous place...”
“Is my mana your goal?”
Since he detested dragging out conversations, Turan got straight to the point. Sure enough, upon hearing this, Dolf immediately dropped his mask and smirked.
“You came all the way out here knowing that? I can't tell if you're brave or just plain stupid.”
Robbery and murder for the sake of mana. In noble society, this was considered the ultimate taboo, worse than cannibalism or infanticide. It served as a reminder that the most tempting prey for a noble wasn't a magical beast, but a fellow noble. Just the rumor of such a deed would cause the perpetrator and their entire family to be ostracized by all neighboring nobles, leading to the eventual end of their bloodline. The fact that noble families placed such importance on hospitality was an extension of this sentiment.
“I see why nobles despise it when someone is called a ‘fallen noble.’”
“Heh, you speak as if you’re looking down on me from a different position. No, aren't you even worse off than I am?”
Dolf looked down at Turan and spoke mockingly.
“Given that your mana is strong but your physical strength is pathetic, you must be of a primitive Guardian Bloodline, right? One that kept the defense but lost the power to strengthen the body. I don't know how you accumulated that much power, but it’s a waste for a husk like you to have it, so hand it over quietly.”
Since he assumed Turan was of a Guardian Bloodline with pathetic physical abilities, he thought he would be easy to defeat. And since Turan's mana was actually slightly stronger than Dolf’s, the reward for winning would be substantial. Furthermore, since they were both fallen nobles, there would be no relatives to investigate his death or seek revenge. Where else could one find such tempting prey?
Turan watched Dolf approach with a leisurely stride before turning his gaze to the sky. On this moonless night, the only thing illuminating the desert was the faint starlight.
“Go up.”
With a small chirp, the Golden Eagle quickly took to the sky. For a moment, Dolf flinched, thinking Turan might try to escape on the bird, but then Turan’s body vanished into the pitch-black darkness.
The thought that the opponent was tempting prey was mutual.