Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Discord
Not long after the Parsha family’s army returned to Kalamaf, stories about the meeting of the three great families began to spread from the Gray Zone to the surrounding areas.
As is often the case with such rumors, the content was layered with embellishments over the truth. Some claimed that Zahar and Parsha had engaged in a full-scale battle, or that the heads of the two great families had fought until they were bloodied, requiring Ravitas to mediate.
However, one common thread in all the stories was that the head of Parsha had demonstrated strength equal to the head of Zahar, earning his respect.
Naturally, this led to another topic that was bound to arise.
“Could it be that the head of the Parsha family is the strongest mage in the world?”
“Exactly. He’s the only one who has fought the heads of both Arabion and Zahar.”
“But considering his age… shouldn’t it take a few more decades?”
“I heard from my cousin that when he killed the head of Baraha in the eastern war, he did it with others’ help.”
“And that’s not because he lacked confidence in his skills, right? It’s probably because it was easier to win that way.”
Among the countless mages in the world, who is the most powerful?
Even commoners, who possess not a shred of magical power and barely understand what magic is, openly discussed such topics.
This couldn’t simply be dismissed as a naive game of ranking. After all, a mage’s strength directly translated to the power of the faction they belonged to.
In Kalamaf, in the Gray Zone, in the various pioneer villages of the nearby forest regions, in the Enril Desert… everywhere, the person at the center of these discussions, Turan Parsha, was frowning as he looked over documents filled with dense text.
“Tch.”
That someone who had recently declared his intent to conquer the world was reduced to mere paperwork seemed utterly trivial, but there was no helping it.
As a newly established great family, Parsha lacked a sufficient number of trustworthy blood relatives, leaving the family head with a mountain of decisions and tasks to handle personally.
Even this workload was only manageable because Asiz, as steward, had recruited commoners from Kalamaf’s former civil service to distribute the administrative burden.
If, like other great families, they had restricted such tasks to only those who shared the family bloodline, Turan would have been buried under stacks of documents filling not just this office but spilling out into the corridors.
As he reviewed a proposal to support fishermen near Ofen City, who had been displaced due to the recent maritime ban, the door opened, and Asiz entered.
“Finished everything?”
“Almost. Just this one left… Ah, damn it.”
To Turan’s horror, Asiz held another bundle of documents in his hands.
Letting out a sigh, Turan reluctantly took the additional workload and placed it on his desk.
Even if he despised doing it, neglecting these tasks could ruin someone’s life.
As he skimmed through the documents, Turan frowned slightly and spoke.
“Failed again?”
“Yeah. It seems it’s not as easy as we thought. They say adjusting the amount of that gunpowder stuff is incredibly difficult.”
Not long ago, Turan had decided to introduce new weapons within the territories governed by the Parsha family.
Specifically, firearms using the Fire Soul, known in the language of the gods as gunpowder.
Even in a world dominated by powerful mages, firearms had significant utility.
First, they allowed non-mages-ordinary humans-to fend off weaker magical beasts on their own.
In remote satellite cities of the western wastelands, where only one or two knights resided, such a tool would be invaluable.
Instead of knights running around daily to hunt magical beasts, they could supply gunpowder using magical power, and gunners could roam the area to bring back the creatures.
The carcasses of these beasts would then serve as resources to bolster the magical power of young, inexperienced mages.
Second, in the great war to come, firearms would significantly enhance the combat strength of knights and even allow commoners to be utilized as a fighting force.
If proper firearms were developed, even if nobles were unaffected, knights could be severely injured or killed by volleys of gunfire.
Just as powerful great nobles mobilized knights in battle, commoners armed with guns might seem insignificant to such powerhouses at first glance, but they could unexpectedly tip the scales in critical moments.
This was also why Fire Soul, or gunpowder, had not spread widely in this world.
The fallen gods were wary of mages using gunpowder en masse, fearing a world where technology, rather than magical strength, became the measure of power.
As the Biologist had once lamented long ago, there were hardly any humans in this world with the ingenuity to apply such knowledge, but there was always the concern that someone might create a weapon of transcendent destructive power with gunpowder, as had been done in their original world.
Naturally, developing such firearms would provoke intense hostility from these gods…
‘But since almost all the remaining ones are enemies anyway, what does it matter?’
Arabion and Nagin, Carmine and Ruban.
All four great families had, in one way or another, declared themselves incompatible with Parsha.
Even Zahar, the only family close to neutral, could hardly be considered friendly toward Turan, aside from Harun.
To this end, Turan had initially based his development on the steam rifles of the dwarves he had encountered in the past, incorporating the knowledge of the half-elves. However, he had recently altered the design approach.
This change came after witnessing the firearm used by Harun, the head of Zahar, firsthand.
He believed the object was called a musket.
During their spar, Harun had fired a single shot and then reloaded by simply tilting a lever to create an opening for the bullet.
Compared to the front-loading method of inserting a bullet through the muzzle, it was an astonishingly clean and sophisticated design.
Turan wanted to replicate this, but the document before him presented the harsh reality that it was impossible.
“Explosion upon firing…”
“If the person conducting the live-fire test hadn’t been a noble, they would have died.”
The biggest issue was the immense explosive power of gunpowder, or Fire Soul.
Even a tiny amount, used as a catalyst to propel a bullet, caused an explosion the firearm couldn’t withstand.
Yet, if the amount was meticulously reduced, it often failed to ignite at all…
Additionally, since ordinary people couldn’t ignite the gunpowder inside the firearm with magic like knights could, relying on an external flame was another problem.
According to the half-elves, using something called mercury or fulminate could solve this issue, but no one knew what those were or how to use them.
“It would be great if we could make real gunpowder.”
“Real gunpowder? So, Fire Soul is fake gunpowder?”
“Probably. I’ve never seen the real thing myself.”
Not long ago, Turan had gleaned a secret about Fire Soul from one of the half-elves.
Namely, that it only resembled the real gunpowder from the world the gods originated from-specifically black powder-but its properties were entirely different.
According to them, real black powder didn’t possess the immense explosive power of Fire Soul.
Thus, it could be used in firearms with moderate amounts, but this magically synthesized substance, despite its appearance, was almost akin to a high explosive.
The problem was that mixing ingredients without magic didn’t produce anything useful either.
The laws of this world weren’t entirely the same as those of the gods’ homeland, nor were they completely different.
This subtle disharmony was one of the main culprits hindering the development of civilization in this world.
Of course, even more significant was the ignorance of the gods themselves.
‘Somehow, they all seem like they could help but don’t.’
As Lesion had confessed in the past, most of the surviving Freya gods were among the younger ones of their kind.
This was why, after the Twilight of the Gods that caused the collapse of the ancient empire, this world had stagnated without progress.
The older gods, with their varied knowledge, had elevated humanity’s civilization from primitive to medieval levels in just a few hundred years. But after they disappeared, no one remained with higher-level knowledge, leading to stagnation.
Most of the surviving gods had merely enjoyed the advanced conveniences of their original world without understanding how to create them.
Among native humans incapable of invention, the few gods who existed couldn’t bring about dramatic change with their incomplete knowledge.
“Truly, invention is difficult.”
Muttering to himself, Turan annotated the report, suggesting ways to improve the firearm.
This was the result of combining the scientific knowledge he had steadily acquired through the librarian’s teachings with the rudimentary scientific concepts provided by the half-elves.
If Turan hadn’t possessed such an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and if he didn’t have immense magical power along with the ability to activate the Ravitas bloodline, this would have been impossible.
To handle all his duties, engage in personal training, and cultivate knowledge, he could only afford an average of three to four hours of sleep per day.
Of course, Meisa also had comparable stamina, though not to the same extent, and possessed a fair amount of knowledge…
Recalling the disastrous results when he had delegated a task to Meisa not long ago, Turan frowned slightly.
‘If the Biologist’s theory is correct, the fact that I can develop things this way might be proof that I’m somehow special.’
In the past, Turan had thought that Meisa and Solif’s lack of ingenuity might be due to the influence of the ‘leash,’ but even after the leash was removed, they didn’t become notably more creative.
Indeed, the Biologist had lamented that all of humanity in this world lacked creativity.
If it were due to the leash, there would be no reason for ordinary humans without one to exhibit the same phenomenon.
As Harun had said, this might also be because Turan possessed the soul of the Night Hunter, making him akin to the ancient gods.
According to them, he was one of the few ‘real’ beings in this ‘false world’…
“Real, my foot.”
Turan cut off his train of thought with a mutter.
If only he and the gods were real, did that mean this vivid world was fake?
Meisa, Solif, everyone else, and even the child yet to be born to him?
If someone claimed all of that was false, Turan would rather make the one asserting it false instead.
This world was where he was born and lived his entire life.
With this renewed resolve, Turan pushed aside the somewhat completed firearm improvement plan and pulled out a new document.
The text at the top, still gleaming with fresh ink, read:
[Frostwind Forest Internal Map and Infiltration Routes]
Turan flipped through the report from a spy who had brought internal information about the great family Ruban, which had recently invaded Baraha.
* * *
While the Parsha family was deeply engaged in weapon development and war preparations, a new wave of change also swept through Baraha, where Solif had returned.
Namely, the emergence of a faction burning with vengeance against the Ruban family.
“So, you want to assemble an expedition force?”
“Yes, Family Head! If we’re captured, you can declare it as the act of individuals unrelated to Baraha.”
Solif, resting his chin on his hand, quietly observed the woman before him, who spoke with fervent passion.
She, along with those standing behind her, were nobles from families that had suffered during Ruban’s recent invasion.
Although Ruban had retreated, unable to withstand Turan’s assaults, the cities along their path of invasion hadn’t escaped unscathed.
Some families had betrayed Baraha, believing it was finished, but those who hadn’t suffered significant losses.
They sought revenge.
“For now, I will not permit the formation of a private expedition force.”
“Why…!”
Her voice, boiling with anger, was cut short as she gritted her teeth and swallowed her discontent.
Before her stood the new lord of Baraha.
Though some called him a puppet who had taken the position under the shadow of Parsha’s head, he was nonetheless the head of a great family.
One of the most powerful and respected beings in this world.
“If you lot go charging in on your own, you’ll just kill a few commoners or knights before getting caught. To begin with, it’s not like they invaded because they wanted to.”
“That’s true, but-”
“If you’re going to seek revenge, shouldn’t it be against the higher-ups?”
At the implication in his words, the nobles’ eyes gleamed.
Like predators spotting prey.
“Does that mean…?”
“Yes. This time, we’ll be the ones to invade. I won’t go as far as annihilating their lineage, considering the plight of their commoners, but I will kill everyone who orchestrated this war. They might even self-destruct.”
At Solif’s declaration, a few of the Baraha nobles around him showed uneasy expressions.
The current Baraha was a mere shell compared to its peak not long ago, and although Ruban had retreated, they still retained much of their strength.
If the two clashed, even a child could predict which side would win.
Among the younger nobles standing at the back, one hesitated before speaking up.
“Uh, will the head of Parsha also be joining…?”
“You! Who do you think you’re speaking to!”
At the old noble’s reprimand beside Solif, the one who had asked shrank back in alarm.
Watching this, Solif let out a short laugh and chided the old noble.
“Hey, don’t be too harsh. It’s not an unreasonable question.”
“My apologies.”
“Anyway, to answer your question… I can’t tell you. It’s a military secret.”
With that response, Solif noticed the disappointment on everyone’s faces and added quietly.
“But I’ll tell you one thing: we will march all the way to Ruban’s capital, Slon. I have no intention of merely poking at the border to show we’re angry and then retreating.”
Solif’s words were essentially a confirmation that the Parsha family would provide support.
Otherwise, it made no sense for Baraha alone to aim for Ruban’s capital instead of just skirmishing with them.
As everyone grew excited, Solif, the only one maintaining a calm demeanor, lightly stroked his unshaven beard.
‘I’m not sure if this is really the right move…’
Naturally, the war against Ruban wasn’t his unilateral decision.
It had come up during a private conversation with Turan before returning to Kalamaf after the meeting with Zahar’s head.
[War, again? Isn’t it too soon?]
At the time, Solif had questioned whether it was too hasty, suggesting they could afford to wait a bit longer.
In his view, the ideal time to lead a war would be in about thirty to forty years.
By then, the nearly decimated numbers of Baraha nobles would have somewhat recovered, and Turan and Meisa’s child would have grown enough to play a role.
Considering their compatibility, a few more children might even be born.
The issue was where to source such magical power, but even just two or three nobles with upper-tier or top-tier potential joining would exponentially boost the family’s strength.
However, Turan had rejected Solif’s opinion.
He argued that waiting would mean ceding the initiative to the enemy, and that now was the time for them to take control of the situation and lead the war.
Along with this, after hearing the full strategy Turan outlined, Solif decided to accept it.
There were considerable obstacles ahead, and the possibility of failure wasn’t nonexistent, but…
With the abilities Turan had recently demonstrated, and if his plan unfolded as intended, the odds of victory were sufficient.
* * *
Naturally, it didn’t take long for Solif’s declaration to spread widely.
This was because not everyone present at the audience was of high status or tight-lipped.
While some expressed concern and others burned with anticipation for revenge, a messenger from Ruban arrived once again.
This time, the envoy had completely shed the arrogant and overbearing attitude from before.
“We sincerely apologize for our recent insolent attack and have prepared ample reparations…”
“Reparations, huh. That’s nice. But we’ll come to collect them ourselves, so no need to worry.”
Solif responded curtly, waving his hand dismissively to send Ruban’s envoy away.
With Berit seated beside him, his gesture of dismissal evoked the image of an ancient tyrant.
Not long after the envoy was sent away, thousands of armed soldiers began to mobilize from Baraha’s capital.
People were astonished that Baraha, despite having suffered repeated damages, could muster such a force-and that they actually did so.
“War is coming!”
“Baraha versus Ruban, who will win?”
“If Parsha joins, Baraha will win. If not, they’ll lose…”
With Ravitas having recently returned to their own territory, the only ones who could aid Baraha were the Parsha family, who possessed a Holy Relic capable of traversing space.
Amidst people’s expectations, Baraha’s army marched northward at a pace somewhat slower than that of a typical mage army.
And when they crossed the boundary of Frostwind Forest after nearly three weeks…
“Is this the place? Where Armani is supposed to be?”
“Yes. It’s the only port of the Parsha family. At least, it was before you destroyed it. Looking now, I can see the corpses of your kin over there.”
Five warships, adorned with large anchors and fish motifs, arrived at the ruins that were once a port, as Carmine’s mages and merfolk disembarked.