Burning Hill (2): The Mage's Mossy Cottage
I approached the house said to belong to a mage.
Using mana sight for a closer look, I could see dense mana pouring out from every part of the building.
The stone house had a roughly thatched wooden roof, with moss clinging everywhere and vines climbing the walls—on the surface, it looked like an abandoned ruin.
But even those vines hanging from the walls were plants that could serve as top-grade medicinal herbs if properly processed. It was definitely a mage's home, and not just any mage's, but one of considerable skill.
I told Kasian to knock on the door.
Mages with mana could recognize each other at a glance. Besides, unless they had a grudge, mages didn't start off hostile—that was the basic rule.
Kasian went up to the door as instructed, but hesitated just before knocking, turning back to me.
"But if that's the case, wouldn't it be better if you knocked, Master?"
"Just do it already."
If the mage inside was some academy director or mage tower lord, it might've been better for me to step forward. But to most mages, I'd just look like a kid with no mana or talent.
Kasian gave me a look like you really want me to do this?, then knocked twice without another word.
No response. So he balled his fist and knocked harder three times with a solid thud.
We waited a bit. Still nothing from inside.
Kasian frowned, puzzled, and glanced back at me.
"Master, looks like no one's home?"
At that moment, the door flew open with a bang, slamming right into the side of Kasian's head.
"Gah!!"
"How many times do you have to knock?! Have some patience—people need time to answer!"
The woman who emerged was an elderly mage with long white hair tied back in a ponytail. Instead of the stereotypical robe, she wore comfortable white linen clothes, and a monocle perched over one eye.
Though wrinkles lined her eyes, her blue gaze was sharp and keen, her posture straight and unbowed by age.
She's strong.
Mana wasn't everything, but what I could see was easily ten times Kasian's. Not quite an Archmage, but far beyond what you'd expect in some rural village. She'd have been a professor at an academy or an elder in a mage tower, no question.
She looked down at Kasian, who was rubbing his temple, scanning him up and down before tsk-tsking.
"What a rude one... Hmph, you look like a traveler, which explains the lack of manners. Your mana’s decent enough, I suppose."
Then she yanked the staff from his backpack like it was hers.
"Hey! My staff!"
Kasian twisted around at the sensation of it sliding free, but her motion was too smooth—it was already in her hands.
She twirled the staff this way and that, then glared at Kasian again.
"What’s this? You think wielding something so far beyond your station shows your true skill?"
Kasian's face screamed what the hell is this old lady on about?
But she wasn't done. She pointed at me and yelled.
"And what's with that kid? You think you're something special, dragging around a powerless child like that? Do you even have a brain—"
Her words trailed off. The finger pointing at me began to tremble. A bead of cold sweat trickled down her forehead.
Kasian looked up, confused why she'd stopped mid-sentence, but her eyes were fixed on me, shaking like leaves in the wind, ignoring everything else.
She slowly lowered her hand and spoke in a quivering whisper.
"Please... come inside."
Wow, she figured it out.
"Please, have some."
I gladly sipped the tea Morwen offered. It was brewed from leaves infused with thick mana—exactly my taste.
"Ugh... this is crazy bitter."
"Drink it. Hard to come by."
"Mmph..."
I lifted the steaming cup, savored the aroma for a moment, then set it down with a soft clink on the saucer.
"Mind if I speak casually?"
"Of course."
I nibbled on a cookie she'd served with the tea.
"How'd you know? Your level shouldn't let you see that."
Oh, these are good. Sweet—pairs perfectly with the tea.
"My own attainments are lacking, but I've spent a lifetime observing. That made it possible."
Morwen wet her throat with a sip, then continued.
"I'd never seen a great one in person, so I hesitated at first. But once I noticed... there was no doubting it. A vessel utterly empty, without even a trace of mana."
Kasian grimaced through sips of his tea, listening, then chimed in with a baffled look.
"Master, I don't get it—what does that even mean...?"
But Morwen's sharp glare cut him off before he finished, and he swallowed his words.
She narrowed her eyes at him briefly, cleared her throat softly, and took another sip.
"Child, I can see your mana clearly. You can see mine, right?"
"Y-yeah... yes."
"Your master must have told you: not just mages have mana. Even a newborn without talent has a tiny bit. Any living thing does. It's just too faint for the untrained to sense."
Kasian glanced at me after hearing that.
"But... I can't sense anything from Master. Wait, is Master... dead or something?"
"Ridiculous. It's like being in the ocean—you can't grasp its vastness. Surrounded by water on all sides, yet you think it's empty."
"Come to think of it... I've never seen Master's mana run low."
"Even an Archmage feels powerful. But this utter void? Only the truly great ones. Child, you must realize the immense fortune you've gained."
Kasian still looked unconvinced, staring at me. Morwen fell silent and drank her tea.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't entirely accurate, but close enough.
"Anyway, whatever."
I flicked my finger to part the curtain blocking the view outside, pointing at the Burning Hill's peak.
"We came to ask about that hill."
"You mean the burning hill...? Please wait a moment."
Morwen looked mildly surprised, stood, and went to a bookshelf against the wall.
Following her, I saw it packed with all sorts—reprints of books over a thousand years old, even originals of rare magic tomes I'd seen a few times myself.
But those were just dozens; the rest were her own research journals.
A quick scan showed over three hundred, from recent ones to older, showing her studies continued right up to now.
Morwen scanned the shelves, pulled out a dusty book, and carefully set it on the table. The red-bound cover read "46 years ago."
She opened it and flipped pages filled with dense notes—few illustrations, mostly complex formulas and magic circles.
She stopped at one page.
"Look at this."
The page showed a small egg, painted red with intricate yet orderly patterns.
A shape I knew all too well.
"I observed from afar, shielded by flame barriers. It's at the center of that hill, burning it. The flames were smaller at first, but they've grown day by day."
Morwen gazed out the window.
"For now, it's just drying some groundwater, shallowing a few streams. But in twenty, thirty years..."
"So, what do you think it is?"
"You know, don't you? To be direct..."
Morwen swallowed quietly and continued.
"It's a dragon's egg."