Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 135

Chapter 135

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After a lengthy conversation, Rida said she needed to return to care for the family head and went back inside.

If she didn’t immediately recover her magical power and fill her position, others would have to exert more effort in her absence.

As Turan returned to Rida’s mansion guided by a servant, he reflected on their conversation.

‘The Baraha family head…’

To think they would make such an absurd move as visiting and attacking another great family’s headquarters.

Simply leaving one’s base to visit another family was already extraordinary, but compared to what they had done this time, even that seemed trivial.

If Osel hadn’t fallen into critical condition, Ravitas would have been justified in declaring war on Baraha.

Other families likely wouldn’t have dared defend such a cowardly sneak attack either.

‘Did they underestimate Ravitas…? No, considering they were also severely injured according to her…’

Unless the gap between the Baraha family head and Osel was immense, the fact that the other side was also badly injured suggested they weren’t that far apart in strength.

Of course, this being Ravitas’s headquarters, Osel had more resources at his disposal, which also played a role.

Combining this information, Baraha’s family head’s actions seemed more likely born from excessive urgency.

The reason was unclear, but it suggested they desperately needed Solif.

‘The Enril Desert stands in between, but… news will eventually reach that side too. We need to be vigilant.’

The one fortunate aspect was Rida’s testimony that the Baraha family head had also suffered considerable injuries.

Without a truly fatal wound, they would naturally recover over time, but that period wouldn’t be brief.

Additionally, many Baraha nobles had died in two clashes with Turan, so they were likely too busy dealing with their internal affairs for now.

In any case, the conclusion drawn from this information was clear.

Turan needed to find and return the stolen Ravitas Holy Relic that Osel and Rida had previously asked him to recover.

This would give Kalamaf a strong southern ally, and Turan would also have his lung disease cured.

He just needed to briefly use that Holy Relic before returning it.

‘They said it was in the grasslands, right?’

Despite the chaos from the Baraha family head’s attack, Ravitas hadn’t stopped their efforts to pursue the thief who had fled with the Holy Relic.

From Zahar’s Enril Desert to the various islands of the southern sea, the southeastern grasslands, and even the Land of Five Lakes in Baraha territory to the east.

Hundreds of mages had painfully wandered foreign lands, reporting back to their family headquarters through various methods.

As a result, a report had recently come in that traces of the traitor had been found in the southeastern grasslands.

Apparently some individuals with powerful healing magic had joined a powerful mage tribe alliance in the grasslands?

Naturally, Ravitas—with nobles whose combat abilities were diminished, especially with all their powerful high-ranking nobles focused on treating their family head—couldn’t retrieve it themselves.

And if they carelessly requested help from another great family, those families might simply take the Holy Relic and pretend nothing happened.

Interestingly, Turan had arrived exactly two days after they had received this news.

‘So that’s why you specifically called me here.’

‘This information was too dangerous to convey by letter. You can’t imagine how delighted I was to hear you were staying at my mansion. I was surprised when you immediately noticed Osel’s condition, though.’

Recalling their final exchange, Turan returned to the mansion and took out his hand mirror, infusing it with magical power.

Three weak pulses, three strong pulses.

Shortly after inputting the agreed signal, Meisa’s face appeared on the other side.

[You contacted me early. Are you in Merem? Did the healing go well?]

“Unfortunately not yet.”

Turan summarized his conversation with Rida for Meisa.

Her expression grew serious as she listened.

[So then…]

“It seems I’ll need to go to the grasslands.”

[Will you be alright?]

“I’ll be fine. Who would bother me if I move alone? I’m more worried about all of you.”

The southeastern grasslands at the edge of the world and Kalamaf, situated somewhat northwest of the center, were impossibly far apart.

For ordinary people, the round trip alone would take nearly half a year on foot.

Of course, Turan could make the trip in just days riding Bije, but even that felt too distant.

Who knew what might happen in that short time?

Hearing Turan’s concern, Meisa let out a small sigh.

[We have no choice… Be careful. Though I doubt there are any enemies in such a remote place who could match you.]

“True. But how are things going there?”

[Good. Today, Solif received alliance support from three cities. We’re about halfway done, I’d say.]

After establishing the non-aggression treaty with the Zahar nobles, Kalamaf’s leadership had begun a new operation.

They were attempting to unite the gray zone.

This was a somewhat elegant way of describing what was essentially turning Kalamaf City into something resembling a great family that received loyalty from all mage families in the gray zone.

The situation of three powerful nobles with different bloodlines governing together, as Turan’s group was doing, was so unprecedented that neither they nor others quite knew how to characterize it.

Surprisingly, the mage families of the gray zone didn’t show much resistance to Kalamaf’s attempt.

After the war twenty years ago, they too had felt the need for a great family’s protection.

In this context, the emergence of a force powerful enough to contract as equals with Zahar was actually welcome.

Of course, some ambitious individuals might be seething with resentment.

One concern was that Turan’s Zahar bloodline had spread through rumors, causing some to worry.

They feared becoming effectively a vassal territory of Zahar, potentially leading to a second great war with the antagonistic Arabion.

Considering how bad the relationship was between them and Arabion, this wasn’t an entirely meaningless concern.

“I’ll try to return as quickly as possible.”

[Alright. I’ll be waiting. So then.]

Even after finishing their conversation, neither of them cut off the magical power, so their faces continued to reflect in the hand mirror.

Turan hesitated briefly before quietly murmuring, “I love you.”

Judging by how it immediately went dark after hearing this, it seemed even the hand mirror understood embarrassment.

* * *

With time being precious, Turan immediately left Merem City and began flying east.

Perhaps his urgency was transmitted? Thanks to Bije exerting her full power, Turan was able to leave the Siraf wetlands and see the deep blue southern sea that very night.

Unlike before when they moved by acquiring a suitable boat, this time they took the extreme measure of continuing to fly exclusively on Bije.

This was somewhat less stable but much faster in terms of travel speed.

Three days.

That was how long it took Turan to cross the southern sea and reach the grasslands.

For one of those days, there wasn’t even a suitable island to stay on, so he simply slept lying down over the sea.

When he woke the next day, he found his face submerged in water, but fortunately, having activated his Carmine bloodline, he had no trouble breathing.

After flying without rest for three days.

Upon reaching the grasslands, Turan first comforted Bije who had worked so hard flying, then absorbed her into his body and moved inland.

After walking for about an hour?

He detected a rather strong scent of blood assaulting his nose.

Ordinarily, the world constantly repeats the cycle of eating and being eaten in places unseen to the eye, so the smell of blood itself wasn’t particularly remarkable, but the smell of human blood was somewhat different.

Wasn’t it for this reason that he had detected the death of Rabus, a village elder in Hisaril Hill, in the past?

-Hmm, fighting…?

“It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

When Bije, who had awakened sensing the emotional change, whimpered from within his body, Turan soothed her and immediately approached the source of the smell.

Soon his eyes fell upon what appeared to be a small nomadic tribe of about several dozen people.

“Aaaaargh!”

“Run! Quickly!”

“Where to?!”

The nomads’ tents were half-collapsed, and people were screaming and running in all directions.

What threatened them was a gigantic horse, a magical beast larger and more ferocious than Tilly.

Crack! Each time it galloped and swung its mane, heads caught in its hooves burst and bodies were crushed.

The nomads seemed to have attempted some resistance, as broken spears and arrows were scattered everywhere, but naturally, none had managed to tear the beast’s hide or draw blood.

‘Is it like this everywhere without a proper mage family?’

According to what he had previously heard from Solif, the nomads of these grasslands not only fought among themselves but also enjoyed raiding the prosperous Baraha lands to the north.

Following the method of categorizing people that Turan had learned from his mother and internalized, they would be considered wolves.

But it was difficult to recall such ferocity when witnessing them being trampled by a magical beast.

After a brief moment of deliberation, Turan immediately created a spear of flame and shot it at the magical beast.

[Neeeigh-!]

The horse, with the keen reflexes characteristic of magical beasts, detected the flaming spear and twisted its body, but Turan, having already set his Holy Relic to the Sun bloodline, gently curved its trajectory and pierced its chest.

The massive horse’s body instantly burned black.

‘That’s over.’

The beast possessed magical power at the mid-rank noble level, making it a creature that could have gained quite a reputation in the northern continent, but to Turan, it was something he could kill as easily as breathing.

As silence suddenly fell over the grassland.

While Turan absorbed the beast’s magical power, the nomads who had been struggling atop their panicking horses jumped down and prostrated themselves.

“O Shaman.”

“To burn such a powerful beast, truly you are a divine one…”

“Stay still.”

What Turan commanded were not the people but the horses that were startled and rearing up.

Whether due to the presence of the magical beast or the sight of Turan burning it to death, they were trying to trample their dismounted owners.

As he physically restrained them using telekinetic magic while simultaneously using domination magic to calm them, the nomads’ eyes filled with even greater reverence.

A middle-aged man who appeared relatively older among them stepped forward and addressed Turan:

“Great shaman of spirits, might you be from lands beyond these great grasslands?”

His clothing was travel attire that Meisa had personally enchanted.

Naturally, it differed from the clothing of the grassland nomads, making it easily recognizable.

Turan sensed complex emotions in the eyes of the nomads watching him.

Admiration and gratitude, but also fear.

Perhaps for these people, foreign mages were primarily 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’ve heard they are a powerful tribe in the interior, but they are far from us, so I only know them by name.”

Despite the disappointing answer, Turan clicked his tongue but accepted it.

After all, he hadn’t helped them expecting any meaningful reward.

“Ugh.”

At that moment, a now-familiar cough erupted.

As Turan slightly covered his mouth while coughing, the middle-aged man who had been watching showed a gleam in his eyes and said:

“Are you perhaps unwell?”

For some reason, this man seemed pleased by the information that Turan was in poor health.

When Turan glared at him, the man realized his behavior was inappropriate and quickly bowed his head, saying:

“If I may, about half a day’s journey south from here, there is a tribe with a shaman who possesses healing powers. If you wish, I can guide you there.”

“Healing powers?”

Wouldn’t the Ravitas traitor be with the Golden Fleece tribe alliance he had mentioned earlier?

After a moment’s thought, Turan realized that they weren’t the only healers in this area.

Naturally, the Ravitas mages who had been pursuing them would also be here.

This seemed to be one of them.

“Half a day south, you say?”

Visiting them might allow him to quickly find traces of the traitor.

* * *

Several dozen minutes later, Turan found the tribe mentioned by the chieftain of the nomads he had rescued, using flight and tracking magic.

They numbered about three hundred, and indeed, there was a low-ranking noble level mage inside.

What was unexpected was that there was only one such person, with no trace of other knights or nobles.

According to Rida, Ravitas would have dispatched nobles and knights together for the search.

Since this was something he could investigate directly, Turan immediately approached the nomads.

A few of them who had been peacefully grazing their sheep spotted Turan and rode toward him.

“Halt!”

“Where are you from, stranger!”

Their eyes contained hostility and fear when looking at Turan… The hostility was likely due to his foreign clothing, while the fear stemmed from how unusually clean his attire was and the fact that he wasn’t riding a horse.

In these grasslands, traveling alone without even a horse meant one was either insane or a mage.

To meet their expectations, Turan lightly flicked his finger and conjured a flame.

“F-fire…”

“A fire shaman! Devils from the north!”

“Aaaahhh!”

Upon seeing the fire, the nomads immediately fled toward their tents, screaming.

He didn’t even have a chance to explain that he hadn’t come to subjugate them.

Fortunately, the Ravitas mage, detecting the commotion, emerged from a tent and approached him.

Shortly after, a middle-aged man with a pallid complexion stood face to face with Turan.

“Are you perhaps from Baraha?”

“No, I’m not. And you are?”

“I am Mago. A wandering noble without even a surname.”

Despite his words, two Ravitas symbols intertwined within him.

This was likely a disguised identity to conceal the fact that Ravitas was searching the grasslands.

When Turan took a step forward, the man raised his hand slightly, sensing danger.

Since the gesture wasn’t even remotely threatening, Turan ignored it and whispered so the nomads behind couldn’t hear:

“Pleased to meet you, Mago. I’ve been sent by Lady Rida.”

“Lady Rida, you say…?”

“Yes. I’ve come to find the Holy Relic.”

At Turan’s words, Mago’s eyes widened.

He seemed uncertain whether Turan’s words were true or merely probing.

“I heard the traitor is with a tribe called the Golden Fleece. Is that correct?”

“Y-yes… You truly were sent by Lady Rida.”

Since Turan knew that much, Mago finally accepted him as an ally and shed tears of gratitude.

He must have suffered greatly here, as his clothing was shabby and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Despite being a noble, albeit a low-ranking one, who shouldn’t have faced discomfort in daily life.

“Then you can guide me to the Golden Fleece tribe, I presume.”

“Yes. Of course. But, if I may ask… your name?”

Instead of answering, Turan simply smiled gently.

Having changed his appearance as a precaution, he couldn’t reveal his real name, and he found using an alias bothersome.

Perhaps feeling unspoken pressure, Mago didn’t press further and changed the subject.

“The current situation in the grasslands is quite chaotic.”

“It certainly appears so.”

Hadn’t he just witnessed a magical beast trampling a tribe?

At Turan’s words, Mago shook his head and said:

“It’s not just somewhat chaotic—it’s practically a war. I originally had several companions, but they all died getting caught up in this, and now I’m alone, dependent on this tribe for survival.”

While the grasslands had fewer mages in both number and quality compared to other regions due to lower population density, it was still vast enough that one could find some powerful nobles if they looked.

All of them were now fighting over the powerful healing ability possessed by the Ravitas traitor who had recently appeared.

“In that situation, do they actually have the Holy Relic?”

“I haven’t seen it directly, so I can’t be certain, but…”

Mago mumbled apologetically that the lack of rumors about such an item suggested they likely had it.

Turan nodded at this and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“Anyway, you’ve been through a lot. From now on, I’ll handle this—just guide me.”

“W-will you be alright…? Shouldn’t we request more support?”

To Mago’s eyes, Turan appeared too young.

Though he wasn’t directly doubting Turan’s magical power, he thought that even if strong, Turan might lack the strength of older, more experienced nobles.

In response to his concern, Turan appropriately modulated his power and projected his magical aura.

Mago no longer suggested that support might be necessary.