Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 56

Chapter 56

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After asking around a bit more, it turned out that the important person who had recently passed away was none other than the family head of the great Ravitas family.

Naturally, the villagers didn’t know why such a person had died, but it was presumed to be due to old age.

If the head of a great family had been murdered, the atmosphere wouldn’t just be tense—the entire wetland region would have been turned upside down.

‘Well, even gods grow old and die, so what can the head of a great family do?’

Turan recalled the appearance of the Arabion family head he had seen in the past.

A being who, with a single gesture, could unleash thousands of lightning bolts to scorch the earth, resembling a natural disaster in human form.

The fact that even such beings couldn’t defy their predetermined lifespans felt strangely poignant.

That evening, Turan stayed at the village hall, where the villagers gathered, and tried the local wetland cuisine for the first time.

As expected of a village by the water, most of the dishes were fish, either steamed or boiled, with a unique flavor due to the various spices used to mask the strong earthy smell.

“Here, eat up!”

“Young man, you’re a traveler from far away, right? Tell us some stories about the world!”

“We’re all just country folk who’ve never left this area.”

“There must be so many fascinating things out there.”

The hall was soon filled with dozens of villagers, all eager to hear the tales of a traveler from afar.

In exchange for providing meals and lodging, they asked Turan to share his travel stories.

The Siraf Wetlands, due to their nature, were difficult for carts or wagons to traverse, so even merchants rarely traveled between the inside and outside of the wetlands. Thus, stories from an outsider were considered precious.

As they said, the people here, from their clothing to their architectural style, were quite different from the western wilderness, which wasn’t too far away.

It felt similar to when he first arrived in the Enril Desert.

While the adults chattered, a few children who had followed tried to touch Bije, who was perched on Turan’s staff.

When Bije bared his teeth and growled in refusal, some of the children burst into tears.

“That’s not nice, Bije. Be kind.”

At Turan’s playful scolding, Bije clacked his beak as if scoffing, then lowered his head and allowed the children to pet him.

After lightly patting Bije’s head, Turan shared a few of his travel experiences, slightly embellished, with the villagers.

The Sky Mountains at the western edge, the story of sailing on the North Sea, the rocky mountains of the Gray Zone, the endlessly fertile Dakein Plains, the cities of the forest region now reduced to ruins but once filled with giant trees…

Having received similar requests whenever he blended into nearby villages while posing as a commoner, Turan had become quite a decent storyteller by now.

As he spoke, a middle-aged man who had been listening quietly suddenly said,

“Come to think of it, I heard that if you go east from here, you’ll reach the sea. Is that where you’re talking about?”

“No, that’s the South Sea. The place I went to was the North Sea… Here, let me show you.”

Since the villagers, who had spent their entire lives around the village, were getting confused, Turan drew a simple map based on the information Keorn had once provided and his own travels.

Though the map was a mess in terms of scale, latitude, and longitude, it was still possible to see roughly where each region was located.

“Wow, is this…?”

“This is where we live? It’s so small.”

“Young man, you’ve been all the way there? It would take years to walk that far!”

“What’s beyond those mountains?”

As the villagers excitedly discussed the map—something wealthy merchants would pay a fortune for—they chatted happily about places they had never been.

* * *

The next morning, Turan received a set of local clothing and a pair of shoes as payment for enriching the village with his stories.

The clothes were loosely woven, durable, and breathable, with the sleeves and legs cut off halfway.

In contrast, the shoes were twice as thick as ordinary leather shoes and reached above the ankles, with the outer part coated in a mysterious whitish substance.

This was said to be sap from a local tree, which prevented water from seeping in.

“If it doesn’t let water through, it would be amazing for boats.”

“Actually, some people buy it for that purpose. But be careful with fire! Even a small spark can set it ablaze.”

After changing into the new clothes, Turan left the village and followed the path the villagers had shown him.

Wearing their clothing definitely made movement much more comfortable.

Even though a noble’s body was sturdy, it was still unpleasant to have wet clothes clinging to you or water seeping into your shoes.

Of course, it was a different matter whether you’d catch a cold or suffer from other illnesses.

Perhaps bored of being carried under Turan’s arm, Bije flew off and caught a wild boar.

Even though Bije was a magical beast, it was astonishing to see him carry a creature that weighed about a hundred times more than himself.

“Don’t go wandering off like that, or you’ll get hunted again.”

At Turan’s joke, Bije whined and bumped his head against Turan’s side in protest.

In any case, thanks to Bije, lunch was a stew made from wild boar meat, cooked in the local style.

After enjoying the chewy texture of the boar’s fat—unlike that of farmed pigs—Turan walked for another hour and arrived at a city.

The city’s name was Slop.

Unlike other regions, the boundary wasn’t marked by stone walls but by wooden palisades, likely due to the soft ground characteristic of the area.

Even this area, where the city could be built, was relatively dry, but the ground still felt oddly soggy.

“Huh? Hey! That… it’s not a crow, is it? What kind of bird is that? Is it a magical beast?”

“It’s a hawk, not a magical beast. Just a well-trained bird. It doesn’t harm people.”

“Hmm…”

As expected, walking around the city with Bije was too conspicuous.

The guard gave Turan a suspicious look but eventually let him pass after Turan handed over two copper coins.

“It’s okay.”

When Bije let out a somewhat dejected cry, Turan patted his back to comfort him.

A while later, as Turan headed to the bustling commercial district to find a place to stay, something strange caught his eye.

A black pillar stood in the middle of the area lined with shops.

Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the pillar bore inscriptions created using earth-shaping magic.

[Ishiel Ravitas, master of Ravitas, protector of the Siraf Wetlands, mother to all the wounded and sick, has been called to the heavens by the gods.]

[Her children, bow before this pillar in respect.]

A few passersby were seen bowing before the memorial pillar.

After briefly observing, Turan turned his gaze to the last part of the inscription.

[Written in the name of Barken Kraft, lord of Slop.]

It seemed that the city was ruled by a family named Kraft.

For some reason, that name felt oddly familiar.

Not something he encountered often, but it felt like he had seen it a few times…

Turan fell deep into thought.

Was it a name he had read in Orem’s library? A vassal family of Arabion he had encountered while staying with the Berk family? Or perhaps—

“Ah.”

Turan discreetly pulled out a notebook from his large pouch, careful not to draw attention.

Ovil, the pyromaniac he had met in the north, who had caused a ruckus to obtain the Pyromancer bloodline…

The name he had revealed was undoubtedly Ovil Kraft.

‘Was he from here?’

Come to think of it, he had mentioned being from a southern family.

Why he had gone all the way to the north to massacre commoners was beyond comprehension.

‘The gods…’

The eerily clear eyes and the strange superstitions someone had instilled in him.

Back then, Turan had only thought there was something suspicious, but now he was half-convinced that the being who had influenced Ovil and Midan was a true Frea god.

After all, he had learned that some of them could inhabit the bodies of others and walk this land.

Of course, he still didn’t know why they did such things.

Perhaps the family head here had some connection to those mysterious Frea Gods?

As the thought crossed his mind, Turan glanced toward the direction of the city’s central mansion.

Even though he was now a formidable force among humans, he wasn’t strong enough to meddle in the affairs of divine beings.

If he ever became as powerful as the heads of the great families, he might consider investigating further.

After clicking his tongue at the newly discovered information, Turan suddenly had another thought and looked around.

One of the ingredients for the “Soul of Fire” mentioned in Ovil’s notebook was sulfur.

It occurred to him that it might be found nearby.

‘If someone wanted to conduct experiments, they would likely choose a place where materials were easy to gather.’

As expected, after asking around the market, he soon got an answer.

“You’re looking for sulfur?”

“Yes. I heard it’s a good antidote.”

“I have some, but not much… I’ve got about a handful. Would you like to buy it?”

The merchant demanded a gold coin for less than a handful of sulfur, but Turan didn’t even haggle and bought it.

Given that the merchant didn’t even weigh or measure the coin, it was undoubtedly a rip-off, but Turan didn’t care.

“Do you know where I can get more of this?”

“Huh? No, hey. That’s my business secret…”

“It’s not like you’re getting it from some secret place no one knows about. I could just ask around and find out, so why not tell me since I’ve already bought some?”

At Turan’s words, the merchant pouted his lips, then nodded while looking at the gold coin in his hand.

“If you go east for about four days, there are several hot springs. You’ll find it near there. There are a lot of monkeys around, and some are magical beasts, so be careful. They’re not particularly ferocious, though.”

“Hot springs? What’s that?”

“It’s a place where hot water from the ground collects. I don’t know much about it, but the locals believe soaking in it is good for your health. The monkeys like it too.”

The mention of monkey magical beasts reminded Turan of the ones he had hunted with the nobles of the Baltas family.

If even these merchants knew about them and didn’t bother hunting them, they probably weren’t hostile to humans.

* * *

After buying a scale to measure the weight of gold and silver coins, Turan immediately headed out of Slop’s east gate.

He walked at a normal pace while there were people around, but once he confirmed there was no one nearby, he used Bije’s help to fly and cover more distance.

He stopped only after confirming there were no people within a three-kilometer radius.

“Finally, time to test this.”

[What? What are you doing?]

Bije, who had been scratching letters into the ground, frowned as the damp wetland mud got stuck between his claws and tried to shake it off.

Turan laughed and helped remove the mud from Bije’s claws, then had him climb a nearby tree.

“Wait here for a bit. It should be fine, but just in case.”

[Going far?]

“No, not far. Just doing an experiment.”

Turan broke off a few suitable-sized branches from nearby trees and burned them.

Being his first attempt, there were a few hiccups, but after adjusting the heat, he managed to produce a few lumps of charcoal.

He hadn’t realized it before, but the type of wood seemed important for making charcoal.

Next, he took out a lump of saltpeter he had bought in Vanifel City in the Enril Desert from his large pouch.

‘The ratio was 75, 15, and 10, right?’

After double-checking his notebook, Turan crushed about half of the sulfur lump by hand and placed it on the scale.

Then, he used telekinesis to balance the scale.

“Good, this is 10…”

After determining how much force was needed to balance the sulfur, Turan took out a bowl and poured the sulfur powder into it.

Next, he applied a force slightly more than half of what he had used for the sulfur to one side of the scale and added crushed charcoal powder until it balanced, then poured it into the bowl.

Finally, he added saltpeter powder, using a force about seven and a half times that of the sulfur.

By the time he finished, he was so focused that cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Phew…”

The bowl now contained white, black, and yellow powders, all mixed together but not properly blended.

No matter how many times he pressed and mixed the powders with his fingers, nothing changed.

Just to be sure, he took a small amount and tried lighting it, but it just burned away.

‘As expected, it’s not working like this.’

Turan was certain that the massive explosion Ovil had caused back then was due to the “Soul of Fire.”

The explosion had clearly started from the black powder placed on either side of the cave, and among the other formulas, there was nothing else that could produce such an effect.

It seemed that the final step, the “magical binding,” was necessary.

‘Let’s see.’

Turan placed his hand over the powder and imagined.

The particles, which refused to mix, intertwining at the smallest level, as he had learned from the librarian.

Suddenly, a light flashed from the bowl.

When he removed his hand, the powder had turned the same pitch-black color he had seen in the cave.