Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 160
Chapter 160
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Discord
“Yes, breathe in and out like that…”
In a room with curtains drawn so thickly that not even a sliver of sunlight could penetrate, a midwife carefully gave instructions while pressing her ear against the belly of a noblewoman whose face was concealed by a veil.
Standing just behind them was a man, likely her husband, around thirty years old, with his arms crossed, observing the scene.
“Hoo…”
“Inhale, exhale-yes, that’s it.”
In Kalamaf, there were countless individuals who worked as midwives on the side, but this woman was renowned for knowing several methods to confirm pregnancy. These included listening to sounds by placing her ear on the belly, as she was doing now, checking the pulse by holding the wrist, or even testing urine on barley sprouts to see if they would germinate. While some of these methods were less accurate, when multiple approaches were used together, as in this case, the results were rarely wrong.
With over forty years of experience, the midwife was certain that the woman before her was indeed pregnant.
“It seems to be about a month and a half to two months along.”
“I see.”
At the midwife’s words, both the man and woman displayed complex expressions tinged with mixed emotions. Their lack of pure joy, combined with the fact that they had come to this small, secluded house with their faces hidden, suggested that their relationship was far from ordinary. What could it be? Perhaps a servant in an illicit affair with a high-ranking lady?
Though curiosity briefly flickered in her mind, the midwife quickly dismissed the thought and bowed her head. She didn’t know the details, nor did she wish to risk her long, carefully lived life by meddling in matters that didn’t concern her.
“Then, the payment…?”
“Here it is.”
After receiving her fee, the midwife left the mansion, glancing back briefly to offer a small, silent prayer. Whatever the relationship between these two, she hoped at least that the child to be born would grow up blessed.
* * *
In the heart of Kalamaf, at the stronghold of the Parsha family, Meisa and Turan, having returned from confirming the pregnancy with the midwife, sat on a lounge sofa, embracing each other without exchanging a single word until that moment.
It wasn’t that they were upset with each other; rather, both of their minds were overflowing with countless thoughts. Simply rejoicing over the new life they had created was difficult given the complex situation they found themselves in.
Turan stared blankly at Meisa’s still-slender belly. Even with the senses of his Holy Relic, it was hard to detect the tiny life nestled within. Her entire body appeared as a radiant mass of immense magical energy, overshadowing any subtle signs.
‘I was the one who suggested getting it checked, yet I still can’t believe it…’
Turan was already twenty-one years old. If he were an ordinary man, he might have already married and had one or two children by now. Of course, as seen with the still-unmarried Asiz and Solif, many nobles, who lived long lives, often didn’t marry until their forties or sixties, remaining childless. After all, even at that age, their physical appearance would only be equivalent to a human in their mid-to-late twenties.
‘I never thought she’d get pregnant this soon.’
Since their intimate moment on the rocky mountain a few months ago after a bout of sparring, Turan and Meisa had taken several well-known precautions during their subsequent encounters. They avoided intimacy during fertile periods and used protective aids, among other methods. This was to prevent Meisa’s pregnancy from weakening the family’s combat strength. Even crafting a powerful magical device as an Enchanter and taking a few weeks off was risky; being pregnant would render her unable to fight for nearly a year.
Of course, the best approach would have been to maintain boundaries as they had during their earlier travels together. But how could two young people in their prime, fully aware of their mutual feelings, exercise such restraint? Especially under the extreme stress of constant battles with formidable enemies and managing a vast organization.
In any case, despite their efforts, neither had anticipated a child arriving so quickly. Perhaps it was due to their lack of proper education on such matters, having lost their parents or been in similar circumstances during childhood.
Taking a deep breath, Turan lightly inhaled while holding Meisa close. Out of consideration for his sensitive sense of smell, she avoided strong-scented cosmetics, allowing her emotions to come through clearly. Anxiety and nervousness…
Wanting to comfort her, Turan spoke up.
“Meisa.”
“…What?”
“Thank you.”
Instead of asking what he was thankful for, Meisa simply gripped Turan’s hand tightly as he held her. Then, with a trembling voice, she murmured.
“Why, why did it have to happen in such a dangerous time?”
“Don’t say it ‘happened.’ It’s our child. We’re blessed that they’ve come to us.”
Our child.
Saying it aloud suddenly made it feel real. A being akin to an extension of himself, conceived by the woman he loved… A precious and fragile existence within his protective circle, more valuable than any of the sheep he guarded, one he must protect at all costs.
“We’ll have to keep it a secret for now, right?”
“Yes, for the time being.”
Under normal circumstances, this would be a cause for celebration, but with enemies surrounding them, that wasn’t possible. If Meisa’s pregnancy became widely known, enemies would target her specifically in any conflict. While pregnancy wouldn’t significantly diminish her magical power or skills, the issue was that even attacks she could normally withstand might harm the child within her. If she had to dodge every minor blow that would usually only cause slight pain, how could she fight properly?
And in truth, the challenges wouldn’t end even after the child was born. A child born to two individuals equivalent to heads of great families… If terribly unlucky, the child might inherit the weaker traits of their commoner grandmother and be born with minimal power. But if not, there was a high likelihood they would possess top-tier or greater talent.
That alone would make them a target for hostile forces, who would either seek to kill or abduct them. Especially considering that Turan’s enemies were fallen gods who delighted in stealing the bodies of talented individuals.
Stroking her belly, Meisa spoke.
“I just feel so sorry for the child. I wish they could have been born amidst everyone’s blessings.”
Though Turan and Meisa were essentially partners, they hadn’t officially performed a bonding ceremony. This was to ensure that, after eventually attacking and conquering Arabion, Meisa could smoothly ascend to its ruler. For instance, if Turan were a woman and Solif her partner, the Baraha nobles would have felt several times more resentment. It would be evident to all that their family had become a puppet of the Parsha family. As a result, their first child was now, in a sense, no different from an illegitimate one.
“I’ll make that happen.”
“Hm?”
“I’ll ensure this child is born amidst everyone’s blessings. As my rightful heir.”
Meisa’s eyes widened in surprise at Turan’s resolute murmur. How could that be easy? Leaving aside societal issues like a proper partnership, there was no guarantee their child would be born with the talent of a family head…
“Ah, you don’t mean…?”
“That’s right. Not now, but when they’ve grown a bit more.”
Turan nodded in response to Meisa’s incomplete question. Just as those gods did, soul magic could be used to manipulate the talents of a fetus or newborn to some extent, using a vast number of souls as raw material. Though not in the same way as them, having learned some techniques from the half-elves, Turan could achieve something similar if he set his mind to it.
“That doesn’t mean we need to sacrifice innocents like they do. There are plenty of materials available.”
The fallen gods lurking in other distant families… Using their souls as raw material would be like killing two birds with one stone. Not only would he gift exceptional talent to his child, but he could also create a clean world free of fallen gods who might target their body.
* * *
After learning of Meisa’s pregnancy, Turan restricted her movements and daily activities to ensure she never strayed far from his side, much like when she had exhausted herself crafting Solif’s Sun Cloak. Only the most trusted maids were allowed to remain close enough to notice signs like morning sickness, and he added one more precaution.
“I’m truly sorry, Family Head… Please, just this once, forgive me…”
“Take her away.”
At Turan’s command, a maid pleading through tears was dragged away by knights to a place from which she would never return.
Standing beside him, Asiz muttered with a bitter expression, as if he had swallowed a bitter pill, while watching the maid being taken away.
“Yanel… When we were young, she used to play house with me.”
Originally, Turan had tolerated spies who weren’t directly dispatched by other families but were locals who had been turned. After all, it was unlikely they could extract critical family information, and blocking them might prompt more insidious infiltration attempts. However, now that there was something he absolutely needed to conceal, he mobilized all means at his disposal, including the acute sense of smell unique to the Zahar bloodline, to root out traitors within the family.
As a result, he discovered that far more individuals than expected were under the influence of other families. Even the maid just dragged away was, as Asiz mentioned, someone who had served the Berk family for many years and had thus been permitted to attend to Meisa.
“If it’s too hard, do you want to delegate this to someone else?”
“No, no. I’m the steward; I have to handle it myself. Hmm.”
Asiz, who had briefly shown a wavering expression, shook his head and spoke with determination. Turan’s role was merely to identify whether someone was a spy or not. Handling their punishment after the investigation confirmed evidence, as well as filling the vacancies they left, was all Asiz’s responsibility. That was, after all, the role of a steward.
After offering Asiz some encouragement, Turan walked through the now somewhat emptier corridors, surveying his surroundings. Due to the recent upheaval, the once reasonably lively atmosphere within the family had noticeably stiffened.
‘It’ll probably stay like this for a while…’
It was inevitable, given that people who had been laughing and chatting just yesterday were now being executed as spies bought by other families. This was one of the reasons Turan had delayed rooting out spies. Even if he expelled them now, others would infiltrate or attempt to buy someone else. Constantly checking and expelling them would not only exhaust him but also dampen everyone’s morale. While Turan had solid grounds for his purges, those being investigated would live in fear of being suddenly seized one day.
‘More surprising was that there were more from Arabion than I expected.’
Among the spies uncovered this time, over half were sent by Arabion or the Nagin family, which was quite unexpected. Since the failed attack led by Badal, they had outwardly ignored the Parsha family as if it didn’t exist. Given the words Badal had left behind at the end of that encounter, Turan had assumed they were preoccupied with some significant internal matter, hence their lack of attention to Parsha. Yet, while pretending otherwise on the surface, they had been frantically trying to extract information from within.
In comparison, the number of spies from Zahar was far fewer than anticipated, even less than those from Carmine or Ruban. This was likely due to Berit’s presence. They probably calculated that the level of information maids could access was something Berit could also obtain. Of course, since Turan had recently informed them of Berit’s dispatch to Baraha, Zahar might soon attempt to send spies again…
‘At least it’s fortunate that we can now peek into their side to some extent.’
Entering his office, Turan retrieved a few sealed reports from Berit from a locked document chest. They contained information on the current high-ranking nobles of the Zahar family: their names, family relations, usual temperaments, and even some of their secrets. Of course, since Berit herself was merely the child of an heir and only moderately respected, the information wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than knowing nothing at all.
Among them, the document Turan paid the most attention to was the one at the top. It featured an elderly man with half-gray hair slicked back.
“Harun Zahar…”
The head of Zahar, the person Turan would soon meet, was detailed in that report.
* * *
At the end of winter, as sprouts began to emerge, the Parsha family was in the midst of preparing for a large-scale journey. It was an event involving over five hundred people, all to welcome the head of Zahar arriving from the southeastern Enril Desert.
“Over there, did you pack the freezer properly?”
“Of course! Wait, hold on…”
“You didn’t pack it, did you? Do you want to die?”
Since most of them lacked experience with such endeavors, there were a few mishaps, but with ample preparation time, things progressed somehow. Before long, Kalamaf’s southern gate opened, and a long procession began to move.
A mix of people carrying large loads on magical beasts, others walking on foot, and over a dozen riding magical beasts themselves. The onlookers marveled at the sight of the great family guarding the gray zone setting out.
“Truly impressive.”
“But why are so many mages moving? Is it another war?”
“I know someone at the castle, and they said the head of Zahar is coming to visit.”
“Is that true?”
“It is.”
“Then are we going to war with Zahar too? It feels like the whole world is becoming our enemy.”
“Even if it’s not war, when family heads meet, they naturally bring armies! Humans aren’t much different from animals; when you go to talk and see the other side is weak, don’t you feel like devouring them?”
“I see, is that how it works…?”
Though some effort had been made to control information, it was impossible to prevent such rumors from spreading covertly. In part, since it wasn’t something that could be fully suppressed, they hadn’t bothered to clamp down on it entirely.
At the rear of the procession, Turan bid a final farewell to Meisa by lightly pressing their cheeks together before departing.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“I really wish I could go with you…”
“It’s fine. And as I said, if anything happens, evacuate to Baraha. That’s why I left Armani here.”
Originally, when the meeting was first arranged, Meisa had been scheduled to accompany him, but the situation had changed. If he took her along and a fight broke out, resulting in an unexpected blow harming the child, he would never forgive himself.
“I’m more worried about you than myself.”
“But Solif is coming with me. There won’t be any issues.”
“Even so.”
After reassuring Meisa a few more times, Turan returned to the center of the procession and gave the order to depart.
Parsha’s army consisted of over fifty nobles and four hundred eighty knights. This number was achieved by adding a few recently arrived wandering nobles and temporarily conscripting more from vassals for this meeting.
Amidst everyone’s exclamations, the army set off smoothly toward the southeast. The journey from Kalamaf to Bigen, the city closest to the Enril Desert, would take about four days.
While they were in the midst of traveling, Turan fed Bije some jerky and asked about the news she had brought back from Ravitas in the south.
“Good girl, eat up. How far have they come?”
-Over here, about a day’s hard march!
“That’s just right to arrive at the meeting point on time. Good thing we don’t need to rush. And Zahar?”
-I saw them on the way; they’re a bit behind!
“Late, huh.”
Since the distance of a day’s march for the three families’ armies was less than an hour for Bije, Turan could coordinate their movements in this way. Even this pace was only possible because the army consisted of mages and magical beasts. If physically fit commoners had tried to keep up on foot, they would likely have collapsed from exhaustion after the first few dozen minutes.
After traveling another day, as Bije had said, Ravitas’s army arrived almost exactly on time. Osel greeted Turan with a playful remark.
“I spent nearly my whole life cooped up in the family estate until I became family head, yet somehow, I’ve been traveling more often since taking the role.”
“I’m grateful you’ve come.”
“What’s with the formalities? Of course, I’d answer the call of Parsha’s head. We owe you a great deal.”
Normally, it was common sense for heads or heirs of great families to avoid leaving their main houses to guard against ambushes. In a way, the past few years had been an era where such common sense was repeatedly shattered.
“Didn’t others come along?”
“No, it turned out that way.”
While saying this, Turan quietly conveyed to Osel through wind magic that Solif was indeed with them. Osel merely twitched an eyebrow in response but didn’t reply.
As the heads of the two great families conversed, their subordinates swiftly adorned the border area with prepared items. It was a significant occasion where the heads of three great families would meet for discussions. The transformation of a barren wasteland into an impressive structure in moments was awe-inspiring.
While this setup was underway, Turan briefly excused himself to Osel and, cloaked in invisibility with Bije, slipped out of the camp to head southeast.
Not long after, he spotted an approaching army heading toward their location.
‘Let’s see… Good, they’re there.’
Turan had come here in advance out of concern that Zahar might use the meeting as a pretext to attack their stronghold separately. Though Berit had relayed that there was no such risk, he wanted to be certain.
His worries proved unfounded, as in the midst of the approaching Zahar army, he sensed a presence with magical power slightly greater than Osel’s or Lesion’s. The head of Zahar was indeed at the center of that procession.