Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Discord
Unlike ordinary magician families, it’s not easy for the head of a great family to pass their position to their own children.
The probability of powerful magic being passed down to children is only slightly higher than inheriting height or appearance, and in great families, there are dozens of relatives in the same generation.
Since they all share the same ancestors going back, it’s natural that at least one of them would be stronger than the family head’s own children.
“In that situation, when a child with the greatest talent among the head’s children was born, they received full support from an early age.”
The Arabion princess, Meisa, was the youngest daughter born between the family head and a branch noble of the Berk family.
Among the head’s three children, the eldest was adopted out due to manifesting their maternal bloodline, the second was mediocre causing disappointment, and then a child with successor-worthy talent was born to a concubine.
Moreover, Meisa wasn’t just born with strong magic power but also had natural talent for learning magic, mastering various combat magic including Arabion’s bloodline magic in just ten years after awakening her power.
As a result of receiving all kinds of support, at just twenty-one years old her magic power was nearly equal to the family’s core members.
This led to expectations that she would become one of the strongest among Arabion’s historical family heads, with many hoping she might even be able to destroy Zahar when she becomes head.
“With that much magic power at that age, did they perhaps give her all the ‘funerals’ within the family?”
“That’s right. She even got our great-grandfather’s magic power. Though we shared some too.”
It’s a common trait of all magical creatures, not just monsters, that magic power remains after death causing various phenomena like becoming death spirits.
Naturally, dead magicians’ magic power can also be absorbed, and even Turan and Asiz had absorbed the magic power of the Berk family knights while burying their bodies.
This is commonly called a ‘funeral’, and Arabion had concentrated the funerals of nobles who died from old age or accidents on a few talented young magicians.
This way, they could build up power sufficiently within the family without bothering with pilgrimages.
Of course, this meant other family members couldn’t inherit power and had to hunt monsters diligently.
‘Indeed, there’s good reason why great families reign from above…’
Briefly feeling envious, Turan remembered he had received a great gift just with his given talent and snapped his fingers.
The spark born from friction heat successively transformed from fireball to arrow, spear, and sword.
Seeing this, Asiz laughed in amazement.
“Flame shape transformation? You’ve already added three more?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, I’ve already forgotten how to use that.”
Even while walking and chatting, they practiced magic in various ways.
Inspired by Turan’s daily practice of various magic, Asiz decided to resume combat magic training he had neglected.
Saying he didn’t want to helplessly watch his people die again.
Asiz shared information about various magic he had theoretically mastered – though many overlapped with what Turan learned from Keorn – and in return, Turan taught a few types of magic he had self-learned on the hill and some of the simplest natural laws learned from the library.
Of course, he didn’t even show signs of knowing tracking and stealth magic.
He didn’t want to give any clues about his Zahar bloodline.
Anyway, through this exchange, Turan could grasp how fast ordinary talented magicians learn magic.
‘It takes days to learn just one thing even with dedicated training. Even then it’s not combat-ready and quickly forgotten without constant practice…’
While calculating this, Turan reminded himself not to become arrogant watching the struggling Asiz.
How could he dare be proud after hearing about a peer with similar talent, and even much stronger power than himself?
“By the way Turan, have you decided what magical device you want?”
“Somewhat.”
Turan’s first thought was a magical device with healing power.
Though his exceptional talent allowed him to practice and use most magic as desired, healing abilities were almost impossible without being born with the bloodline.
After roughly understanding the principles of wound healing at the library he could heal minor scratches, but such power couldn’t be used in actual combat.
The problem was that half his bloodline was still ‘locked’.
If his other half bloodline was healer-type, the magical device would be wasted.
Because of this he was considering choosing something useful unrelated to bloodline magic, but hadn’t made a decision yet.
Seeing Turan lost in thought, Asiz smiled.
“Well, take your time thinking. You’ll be staying and resting at our house after we arrive anyway, right?”
“I won’t stay long. I’m on pilgrimage.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry. We have plenty of time anyway.”
As he said, Turan still had hundreds of years of life remaining.
He could live long enough for the children of ordinary humans passing by on the opposite side of the road, perhaps even their children’s children, to grow old and die…
At this sudden thought, Turan shook his head.
Why were there so many things in this world making him arrogant?
* * *
Since leaving Hisaril Hill, Turan often marveled at the increasingly prosperous environment as he moved inland.
From dense forests to streams and rivers flowing with clear water, to plains covered in grass that seemed to grow whatever was planted.
To a shepherd youth who grew up seeing only rocky hills and wastelands with sparse weeds, this place was like paradise.
But now, Turan realized that the ‘prosperity’ he had seen before was fake.
Golden wheat fields stretching beyond sight even with noble vision…
It was astounding to think this wasn’t just what they had just encountered, but they had been walking for half a day already without seeing the end.
The yield from here seemed enough to feed all the people in every city and village they had passed through, with plenty left over.
“That might really be true. No wonder people quite often get lost in those fields, I hear.”
Asiz shrugged while saying this in response to Turan’s assessment.
This vast land was called the Dakein Plains.
It was Arabion’s core territory, reached after exactly fifteen days of walking since leaving Maderi – though for ordinary people this would have been a month or two’s journey.
In the middle of these plains was Morgen City, Arabion’s stronghold, with several satellite cities ruled by vassal families like Berk distributed around the edges.
The population living in this region totaled in the millions, an almost unimaginable scale.
Since Asiz could find his way after entering the Dakein Plains, they could reach Zabilin, the Berk family territory, without needing to ask passing people for directions.
When they knocked on the firmly closed city gates as the sun was setting, someone shouted from above.
“Curfew time has passed! Come back tomorrow!”
“It’s me, Bin!”
“Young Master Asiz?”
The knight announcing curfew while sitting on the five-meter high wall jumped down immediately upon hearing Asiz’s voice.
“It really is you, young master! Have you already finished your pilgrimage? And why are the others…”
“They have all departed for the celestial palace. I’ll tell that story later, but first can we go in and rest? And please inform my parents of my return.”
Asiz’s bright and cheerful face darkened at the question about his companions’ whereabouts.
His exaggerated brightness had indeed been to bury his depressed emotions.
He would probably need a very long time to truly overcome these feelings.
Perhaps he might never overcome them completely.
Shortly after, the two arrived at the Berk family palace via the main street of Zabilin City.
Thanks to advance notice, all family members had come out to welcome Asiz, with the first to rush forward being a middle-aged lady in an elaborate dress.
With dark blonde hair and features exactly like Asiz’s, anyone could guess their mother-child relationship.
“Asiz, my baby! What in the world happened!”
“Mom!”
Turan was internally shocked at the sight of a forty-three-year-old man proudly calling out “Mom!” and embracing her.
Though his outer appearance was that of a young man in his twenties… no, even considering appearances, it was quite a childish scene.
That woman must be Midela Berk, the head of the Berk family and Asiz’s mother.
Behind her were a man who appeared to be her husband and a young man looking slightly older than Asiz, presumably his father and heir brother based on what he had heard before.
“Asiz, think of appearances. You should at least say ‘Mother’.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
Flinching at his father’s reprimand, Asiz bowed his head then quickly turned to indicate Turan.
“This is Turan, a friend I made in the south. He risked his life to save me when I was in mortal danger. Without him, I wouldn’t have returned here alive.”
“This pilgrimage route shouldn’t have been that dangerous… what exactly happened?”
“We were attacked by dark elf necromancers.”
Asiz reported the detailed circumstances to his mother like a child who had been hit.
From the sudden attack and death spirit army killing his subordinates, to falling unconscious in crisis and waking to find Turan had dealt with them.
Hearing this, Family Head Midela jumped in rage.
“Dark elves! Those filthy worms dare target my child? If I don’t lead an army myself and tear them apart-”
“Calm yourself, Family Head. People are watching.”
Even after barely calming down thanks to her husband’s efforts, Midela’s eyes remained bloodshot.
Asiz’s father, who seemed much more composed than his wife, questioned Turan.
“So, may I ask which family our benefactor belongs to?”
“That’s difficult to say.”
“Difficult?”
“Yes. To be honest, it would be more accurate to say I don’t know well.”
As always, Turan didn’t make excuses about having enemy families making it difficult to reveal.
The reason being that while there might be families with past hostilities, there weren’t many currently hostile families as one might think.
Even Rug, the Baltas family head, had immediately named Arabion and Zahar as possibilities upon hearing his story.
So he had prepared an answer that was both honest and dishonest.
“I was born to a commoner mother, and don’t know who my father is.”
Asiz, still in his mother’s embrace, showed surprise at this story that hadn’t been revealed until now.
“What? You never told me that!”
“It’s not something to boast about anywhere.”
In truth, Turan’s identity was something that might be considered somewhat offensive in houses that emphasized bloodline hierarchy.
No matter how much power is everything in the magical world, to nobles, knights were guard dogs and commoners even less than that.
But as expected, the family head couple only looked at each other somewhat awkwardly after hearing the story, without showing contempt for Turan.
Growing up under such parents must be why Asiz also had a personality that mixed freely with subordinates.
After clearing her throat several times, Family Head Midela spoke.
“So that’s the circumstance. Very well, Turan who doesn’t know his family. You saved our family’s treasure, so as head of Berk I shall properly compensate you. However, providing a room would be difficult, so we’ll arrange for you to stay at the city’s finest inn rather than the main house-”
“What are you saying! Mo-Mother! Not even properly hosting the benefactor who saved me in our home?”
Seeing Asiz dare to interrupt the family head’s words, his father rubbed his forehead as if tired of scolding.
Midela suppressed her thoughtless son with a stern expression and continued speaking.
“It would be fine normally, but we currently have an important guest in the house, so it’s difficult to accept a guest of unknown background, even a benefactor. Please understand.”
“If it’s about me, you don’t need to worry, Aunt. Surely someone who saved Asiz won’t suddenly try to assassinate me.”
At that moment, a woman of indeterminate age suddenly interjected.
Turan thought of a skull upon seeing her.
Eyes and cheeks so sunken it looked like skin had been stretched directly over bone without flesh.
Not just that, but her neck, arms, torso and legs were all so thin they seemed about to break under their own weight.
How much would a person have to starve to become that emaciated?
“Meisa? Why are you suddenly here?”
From Asiz’s words, Turan realized she was the Arabion princess mentioned earlier.
However…
‘She seems more fitting to be called a corpse than a princess.’
Truly, if she had been lying down with closed eyes, he wouldn’t have even doubted she was alive.
While Turan was having these rude thoughts, Meisa Arabion answered the question in a casual tone as if talking about the morning sunrise.
“I almost got assassinated by those Zahar dogs recently. So I came here to take refuge.”