Translator: Pai_
The sky after a storm was so clear, it seed to mock the sailors struggling to survive on the sea.
Under the glaring sunlight, the crew cleaned the deck, which had been left in disarray overnight.
“Ugh, my back…”
“You should be thankful your back didn’t break.”
“True, haha. I really thought I was going to die back there.”
Their faces were bright as they exchanged jokes.
Though their bodies were exhausted, the strange sense of relief from their recent ordeal left them feeling oddly stable.
Turan sat perched at the top of the mast, looking down at them with a tired expression.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve been this worn out… seriously…’
Starting a fire on the deck to warm the air wasn’t too difficult.
The problem was maintaining it for hours on end.
On top of that, the waves grew so massive that he had to manipulate the incoming waves himself to prevent the ship from capsizing.
Most of his strength had been drained in this process.
Unless one was the head of a major house, it was impossible to directly confront such a vast force of nature with his current level of magic power.
Still, looking at the people working hard below made the effort worthwhile.
In the end, no one had died, and the ship hadn’t sunk.
‘Co to think of it, this thing was pretty useful too.’
Turan pulled the sacred relic out of his pocket.
It was thanks to this that he had been able to rescue people who were barely visible in the storm’s obscured and chaotic view.
Using the sense derived from this relic as a basis, he had cast his magic.
Considering that one of the most effective ways to hinder a wizard is to blind them and restrict their ability to use precise magic, the relic effectively eliminated one of those limitations.
It ant he could cast magic on targets beyond walls, as long as they were ordinary living beings.
As he marveled at the relic’s new functionality, he noticed sothing floating in the distance.
They were too small and nurous to be an island or a reef...
Soon, it beca clear they were corpses or debris from a ship.
“Looks like those folks couldn’t withstand the storm.”
"Oh dear."
As the remnants of a nearby ship drifted past, the once-lively sailors fell silent, their faces solemn as they focused on their tasks.
No one failed to realize that they could have shared the sa fate if not for Turan.
After completing their repairs, the Blue Marlin began sailing southeast once again.
For hours, it cut through the waves, carried forward by the wind.
Eventually, a dark silhouette began to rise on the horizon in the direction they were heading.
The center of the world, Enril Desert, was welcoming them.
*
Due to the storm pushing them slightly off course, the Blue Marlin arrived at Komad three hours later than expected.
After reporting their docking to the harbor officials, the sailors began unloading supplies from the ship and storing them in the warehouse.
Turan sat idly on one side of the harbor, killing ti as he watched the senior sailors oversee the process.
It wasn’t until the sun started to set that Pires approached him, carrying a pouch filled with gold coins.
“My apologies for the delay, Sir Turan. Here is the agreed-upon paynt for your services.”
Receiving the pouch, Turan frowned at its weight.
Having handled a fair amount of money by now, he could roughly estimate the sum by its weight, and the pouch Pires handed over was far heavier than what they had initially agreed upon.
At least three tis heavier.
“This is too much. Wasn’t the original agreent sixty coins in Carmine gold?”
“If we only paid you what we initially promised, the gods themselves would never forgive us.”
Pires explained that the pouch contained the proceeds from selling the pirate ship, pooled together with the unanimous agreent of the captain and crew.
Turan shook his head and pointed at the crate he had been using as a seat monts ago.
“As you know, I already have more money than I know what to do with.”
This item was originally from the room where he had been staying. Since the 800 Carmine gold coins earned from selling the pirate ship wouldn’t fit in his bag, he had reluctantly taken this crate to store the money.
To his response, Pires, the captain, replied with a smile.
“There’s no helping it. If you don’t accept it, we’ll just have to toss it into the sea.”
Behind him, the crew of the Blue Marlin stared at Turan with unexpectedly gentle expressions, contrasting with their rugged appearances.
It was as if they were urging him to take the money imdiately.
After a long mont of staring each other down, Turan finally let out a dry chuckle and took the pouch, shoving it into the crate.
“If we et again, I’ll treat everyone to a good al.”
“It would be the greatest honor.”
Turan stood up, slinging the two straps attached to the crate over his shoulders.
Until he figured out what to do with this money, he had no choice but to carry it around like this.
As he began walking toward the city, the sailors behind him called out their farewells.
"We'll miss you, Sir Knight!"
“Thank you!”
“We’ll never forget you!”
Hearing the voices of the people he had saved, for so reason, the crate on his back felt heavier.
Not because it was carrying more money, but because of sothing else it contained, sothing he could now feel.
With the corners of his lips curling upward, Turan made his way into Komad City.
*
The largest city in the northern Enril Desert, Komad, had a population of 150,000.
It was easy to distinguish between sailors from other regions and the locals by their clothing. The locals typically wore long cloth hats and loose-fitting garnts that covered their entire bodies.
At first, Turan thought they were wearing skirts, but upon closer inspection, he realized they were wearing pants underneath and that the outer garnt was more like a cloak.
As he looked around, he suddenly sensed a small fla approaching him from the side.
Without even looking, Turan reached out and grabbed the other person's wrist.
"Aack!"
A small dagger, about the length of two fingers, fell from the hand of a young man. The dagger must have been intended to cut the strap of the crate he was carrying.
Knowing he had already broken the man’s wrist, Turan decided not to bother with him further and resud walking through the streets.
Fortunately, even in the bustling crowds, the sacred relic didn’t overly drain him or cause unnecessary fatigue.
As he wandered through the city, Turan eventually spotted soone who wasn’t just an ordinary person for the first ti.
‘That’s...’
Unlike ordinary people, whose flas were concentrated around their hearts or at one or two other points, this man appeared to be ablaze across his entire body.
Judging by his unusually elaborate attire and the sword at his waist, it was clear he was a knight belonging to one of the ruling houses of the area.
As Turan had expected, the relic’s power made it possible to distinguish between wizards and ordinary people.
“Excuse , are you a knight of the House Dirmin?”
Turan addressed him, imdiately projecting his magic power.
The knight, feeling the overwhelming pressure of magic, on par with a mid-level head of a rural noble house or a senior mber of a great noble house, gasped in shock and responded.
“Yes, my lord! Please, command !”
‘My lord’? It seed the locals here had a peculiar way of addressing nobles.
“I am Turan from Abacha. I would like to et the master of this city and pay my respects. Is that possible?”
Knights in cities ruled by great noble houses and their vassal families were typically proud. This was partly because it wasn’t uncommon for nobles from weaker or less significant families to visit such cities during their pilgrimages and request hospitality.
Occasionally, these visits led to advantageous ties with powerful nobles or strong offspring, so they weren’t outright ignored.
Had Turan possessed only a moderate amount of magic power, as he did during his visit to House Baltas, he might have received only a cursory welco as a minor guest from a far-off region.
However, the current Turan was several tis more powerful, and House Dirmin couldn’t afford to treat him lightly.
Carrying the crate on his back, Turan was imdiately escorted to the palace in the center of the city. Without lifting a finger, he was bathed, given fresh clothes, and finally brought to et the head of House Dirmin.
“Pleasure to et you. I am Karl Dirmin.”
Karl, the head of House Dirmin, appeared to be a man in his thirties.
But his actual age was likely between one hundred and one hundred fifty years.
The flas blazing across his body were far more intense than the knight Turan had encountered earlier, so much so that it was almost blinding to look at.
Having compared their magic power directly, Turan now had a reference point to gauge whether soone was stronger or weaker than himself.
“Hmm.”
At that mont, Karl stared intently at Turan’s face. He furrowed his brows briefly and tilted his head, as if sothing was puzzling him.
It was a small gesture, but Turan’s sharp senses didn’t miss it.
“So, what is your na and family, guest?”
“I am Turan Brahms.”
“Brahms…?”
"It's just an old na of the fallen Guardian Bloodline now."
The surna he gave belonged to the ancient Guardian Bloodline that once existed near Carmine’s lands. Turan had co across the na while studying in the library.
Using a false noble na was a grave taboo, but in treacherous lands like those ruled by House Zahar, casually bluffing about one’s origins was far too risky.
It wasn’t as if he had soone like House Berg to vouch for him as a benefactor here.
Fortunately, Karl, upon noticing Turan’s well-trained body and the dagger hanging at his waist, nodded without probing further.
“I see. And you’ve co here to purchase one of our magical beasts, have you?”
“Yes. I have more than enough money for it.”
In truth, he was desperate to spend this damn money quickly, but he didn’t say that aloud. There was no reason to expose a weakness during a negotiation.
“So it seems.”
Karl spoke while reading the recomndation letter Turan had handed over from Captain Samudel.
The letter detailed how Turan had dealt with him on Miguel Island, purchasing a pirate ship and acquiring 800 Zahar gold coins in the process. It served as proof that the money was earned through legitimate ans.
“We have quite a variety of magical beasts tad here, those you can ride, those that fly, swim, or even use their hands. Just tell us what you want. As long as the price is right, there’s nothing we won’t sell.”
However, Karl added, almost as an afterthought, that the really expensive ones would be hard to afford with the kind of money soone could carry alone.
There was sothing about Karl’s deanor that felt less like a wizard family head and more like a rchant, which made Turan feel slightly awkward.
“Would it be possible for to see them firsthand?”
“Of course. I’m a bit busy, so I’ll have my daughter guide you.”
As Karl rose from his seat, Turan casually asked, as if in passing.
“By any chance, have you ever seen soone who looks like ?”
“Hmm?”
“It seed like you recognized earlier.”
Though his outward deanor remained calm, Turan’s senses were fully focused on Karl.
He hadn’t expected the head of a vassal family, not even House Zahar’s main branch, to show signs of recognizing his face.
However, contrary to his expectations, Karl laughed and replied.
“No, it’s nothing. Really. You just reminded of soone I know.”
Turan considered pressing the matter further but decided to hold back for now.
Rushing things had always been a recipe for disaster.
Since Karl didn’t seem particularly flustered or hostile, it was better to wait patiently for another opportunity.
Shortly after, a young woman, appearing to be around Turan’s age, arrived to escort him to the beast stables.
“For a fallen noble, you certainly seem to have a lot of money, enough to buy a magical beast, no less.”
Unlike her father, who had shown a decent level of courtesy, this young woman made no effort to hide her condescending attitude toward Turan.
But Turan didn’t even spare her a second thought.
Not because her magic power was visibly much weaker than his, but because his mind was preoccupied with another matter entirely.
‘Who did I remind him of?’
Turan could find quite a few similarities between his mother’s face, as he rembered it, and his own.
The slender shape of the face, the straight line of the lips, the slightly large ears, and the ashen-gray hair, these were features they shared.
However, there were also many parts that did not resemble her.
The shape and color of his eyes, the structure of his nose, and other details…
Although it wasn’t always the case that a child inherited all their parents’ features, Turan would sotis imagine his father’s face based on the traits that differed from his mother’s.
Who exactly had the head of House Dirmin been reminded of when he looked at Turan’s face? Was it his father? His mother? Or perhaps soone else related to them?
If the person was known to Karl, they likely weren’t soone of low status.
Lost in such thoughts for a while, Turan suddenly realized they had already arrived at the beast stables.
“Here we are.”
“Impressive.”
Contrary to his expectations, the beast stables were quite luxurious.
He had assud the beasts would be kept in simple stone chambers behind iron bars, but instead, each magical beast had its own individual enclosure. These were furnished with grass, trees, and even small streams running through them.
Turan shook off his wandering thoughts and began inspecting the magical beasts one by one.
‘A wolf… but it’s not big enough to ride. An elephant… absurdly large and impractical. A horse… its size and magic power seem far inferior to Tilly. And this one, is it a snake?’
Despite examining all the beasts, none of them struck him as 'the one'.
Out of curiosity, he asked the price of one of the horses, and the response made him recoil in disbelief.
“That one? It’s a fairly well-bred beast, so I’d say about 4,000 gold coins.”
Turan currently had 800 Zahar gold coins and just over 900 Carmine gold coins.
Considering that Carmine coins were slightly larger in value than Zahar coins, and factoring in the other smaller denominations of currency he carried, his total wealth didn’t even amount to half the price of that horse.
Turan imdiately regretted ever thinking he was wealthy enough to not need more money.
If this horse was worth that much, how much more valuable would Tilly, a beast of far superior skill and power, be?
‘Well, considering how capable Tilly is, it makes sense. After all, she single-handedly defended Ashiz against two necromancers.’
Of course, without Turan’s intervention, Tilly would have ultimately lost, but even so, she was exceptionally strong for a magical beast.
It seed increasingly inefficient to buy a magical beast. Would it be better to seek out a family specializing in crafting magic artifacts instead?
But then again, traveling through the desert with a crate full of money was already a hassle, and there was no guarantee the prices for magic artifacts would be any cheaper.
As Turan wandered around, deep in thought, he suddenly stopped in front of one particular creature.
A golden eagle, its sleek dark-brown feathers gleaming, was staring directly at him. (TL Note: Its the eagle shown in the cover of this novel)
Reviews
All reviews (0)