Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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After releasing the embrace, the three maintained an awkward silence for a moment before deciding to first unwind from the long journey.
While Meisa tended to Bije, Turan joined Solif in soaking in the hot springs.
“Oh, this is fantastic… though it’d be even better if it were a bit hotter,” Solif remarked.
They were in the hottest pool of the spring region, the same one Turan had once visited with Lida, but it seemed it still didn’t satisfy Solif’s taste.
Then again, one of the two bloodlines latent in his body was the power to manipulate fire, wasn’t it?
Just as Turan was born with a keen sense of smell and agility, Solif possessed the ability to perceive various types of light and a resistance to heat.
Though, as evidenced by the Baraha nobles injured in explosions, it wasn’t an absolute immunity.
As Turan quietly closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth, Solif spoke softly beside him.
“Hey, Turan.”
“What?”
“That girl—she’s totally smitten with you, isn’t she?”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“Just look at how she acted earlier! I mean, if a guy turned an entire great family upside down to save me, I’d fall for him too if I were a woman.”
“That’s not it.”
From his experience, people who felt so-called “love” gave off a scent akin to an animal in heat.
But Turan had never once caught that kind of scent from Meisa.
Even during the hug earlier, all he sensed was a complex mix of joy and sorrow.
Unaware of this, Solif grinned slyly as if he knew everything.
“Come on, don’t be so stiff about it. You must’ve been interested in her too, or you wouldn’t have taken such risks, right?”
“I took a risk getting on Baraha’s bad side to save you too. Don’t tell me you think that means I’m interested in you.”
“No, that’s not the same thing…”
Solif clicked his tongue in exasperation at Turan’s retort before changing the subject.
“At the very least, tell her to drop the formalities. We’re all similar in status, skill, and age, yet you two are being so polite with each other—it makes me feel awkward standing out.”
“I’ll let the other stuff slide, but saying our ages are similar is a bit of a stretch.”
Turan was nineteen, Meisa twenty-two, while Solif was fifty-eight—nearly three times their age.
Of course, considering top-tier nobles could live close to three or four hundred years, it wasn’t a gap significant enough to put them in entirely different generations.
Faced with this valid point, Solif burst out in mock indignation.
“If you’re going to treat me like an old man, at least show me some respect as your elder!”
—
After finishing their soak, the two dried off, dressed, and parted ways to attend to their respective tasks.
Turan called out a reminder to the departing Solif.
“I’ve said it before, but absolutely no hunting monkeys here. They’re all Aikul’s family.”
“I got it, I got it. I’ll even rescue any monkey in danger, so quit worrying.”
Watching Solif wave confidently as he left, Turan activated his senses and headed toward Meisa.
While Solif hunted for a decent catch to prepare their meal, Turan planned to administer Meisa’s feeding.
She seemed embarrassed about letting others see the process, after all.
Soon after arriving at Meisa’s location, Turan stopped in his tracks at an unexpected sight.
She was massaging Bije’s wing joints with care, the bird perched on her lap.
“How’s this? Good?”
Bije chirped and stretched out a leg, scratching words into the ground—things like “Good” and “A bit more to the right.”
Though its underdeveloped facial muscles prevented human-like expressions, the half-closed eyes alone made it clear how much it was enjoying itself.
After a few more minutes of massaging, Meisa gave Bije’s wing a light pat and stood up.
“Alright, that’s enough for now!”
[More!]
“I’ll do it later, later. Or ask Aikul to do it.”
[That idiot can’t! Too strong and his fingers are too thick!]
Bije stomped its feet, urging her to read its scribbles.
Normally, it only whined like that in front of Turan, but it seemed to have grown closer to Meisa in the meantime.
Then again, like Turan, she was a “matching” person, wasn’t she?
Judging by the affection Bije showed when it first met Turan, there was clearly a special bond between magical beasts and humans linked by bloodlines.
Turan smiled warmly at their camaraderie for a moment before a thought struck him.
‘If Meisa inherited my soul contract, could she use wind magic too?’
Of course, he had no intention of abandoning Bije, but there was no guarantee a situation wouldn’t arise where it became necessary.
For instance, if they found a magical beast “matching” the Zahar bloodline but Turan’s soul lacked the capacity to bond with both, or if he died in an unexpected accident…
Lost in that brief reverie, Meisa, having soothed the pouting Bije and sent it off to Aikul, greeted him.
“Looks like you’re all cleaned up.”
“Oh, yes.”
After replying, Turan suddenly recalled his earlier conversation with Solif and spoke up.
“Let’s drop the formalities between us from now on. We’re comrades, after all. I already talk casually with Solif too.”
It hadn’t felt this way with Asiz, but for some reason, suggesting a casual tone with Meisa felt awkward.
“Huh? Oh, uh… okay. Got it, Turan.”
Perhaps feeling the same, Meisa responded with a slightly hesitant tone.
Ignoring the odd atmosphere, Turan got straight to the point.
“Solif will be preparing dinner soon, so I figured we should get your feeding done beforehand. You haven’t eaten anything since I left last time, right?”
“…Yeah. I tried, but it still doesn’t work.”
Turan could sense self-loathing in Meisa’s expression as she answered.
He guessed it stemmed from anger at herself for being too weak to overcome her emotional scars.
Instead of immediately suggesting they start the feeding, Turan placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke calmly.
“I don’t know how you feel. I’ve never experienced the pain of not being able to swallow food. But Leto’s dead now, and as long as I’m around, no Zahar noble can sneak up on you.”
From interrogating Leto last time, Turan had pieced together a rough idea of why Meisa developed her eating disorder.
It likely traced back to the trauma of being poisoned alongside her mother and brother, suffering as they died.
He tried to reassure her that the one who poisoned her was gone and that he’d protect her from anyone attempting the same.
But instead of gratitude, Meisa let out a low groan and shook her head.
“It’s not… it’s not that I’m scared of being poisoned.”
“Then what?”
Turan asked instinctively, though he suspected she wouldn’t answer.
She’d always avoided talking about that day.
But perhaps because dropping formalities had closed the emotional distance a bit, she hesitated briefly before blurting out,
“I feel like such a coward.”
Why she considered herself cowardly, Turan didn’t press. He stayed silent.
He had a gut feeling she’d explain it herself soon.
Sure enough, Meisa began recounting the past.
Ten years ago, three of them had gone on a picnic to a scenic hill near Morgen City.
But while eating their packed lunch, sudden abdominal pain struck, and her younger brother, who hadn’t awakened his magic, deteriorated first.
Meisa, already regarded as an heir despite her young age, saved him with a healing artifact.
Though it couldn’t remove the poison—akin to pouring water into a leaking jar—it kept him from dying immediately, even as he bled from every pore.
The problem was that her mother, with the magic power of a low-tier noble, and Meisa herself also fell deeper into poisoning.
As her mother and brother begged her for help amid their agony, all Meisa could do was weep bloodied tears and alternate the healing artifact between them to delay their deaths.
Worse, the knights meant to protect them had all vanished, leaving her unable to call for aid, clinging to the artifact.
Her mother and brother sobbing for salvation, the burning pain of poison coursing through her, her magic reserves dwindling…
“In the end, I used what little magic I had left to heal myself. I was terrified. If I kept healing them, I’d die too. If I’d just pushed a little harder, I might’ve saved them all.”
Meisa hung her head like a condemned sinner, her reddish-brown hair spilling over her face.
Hearing it all, Turan realized he’d completely misjudged the cause of her eating disorder.
The wound in her heart wasn’t fear of death—it was guilt for abandoning her family to survive.
What should he say here?
As he mentally sifted through responses, Turan opted for raw honesty over calculation, comforting her.
“I don’t know if this will help, but you didn’t do anything wrong. No one could demand a twelve-year-old kid sacrifice themselves to save their family. No one can blame you—not even the family you lost.”
Coincidentally, Turan had been twelve when he lost his mother and fought in a village war.
Thinking back to how young and easily frightened he’d been, he couldn’t dare call her actions cowardly.
At his words, Meisa sobbed, her face still buried in her hair.
—
After a brief moment of consolation, Meisa mustered the courage to eat a piece of bread, only to vomit it up and receive her feeding unconscious as before.
Later, after dining on Solif’s roasted rabbit, Turan gathered his companions to analyze their current situation and discuss their next steps.
The first topic was the four symbols within Badal, the Arabion head, seen at Morgen City.
“Four bloodline abilities…”
“Probably wind, lightning, strength, and enchantment.”
“So the Thunder Lord resides in the Arabion head’s body? Uh, wait a sec.”
Solif glanced at Meisa as he spoke.
“I’m not too familiar with your gods, but the Thunder Lord’s a man, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes.”
She’d agreed to speak casually with Solif too, though it still seemed unfamiliar to her.
“Then later he planned to switch to a woman’s body? Just imagining myself as a woman gives me the creeps—impressive, in more ways than one.”
“Maybe after living so long, he stopped caring about that sort of thing. It’s not like Arabion’s never had a female head before. Or perhaps he’s not the Thunder Lord himself at all.”
At Turan’s hypothesis, both widened their eyes.
“Not himself?”
“Maybe he’s just using the Thunder Lord’s powers because his host body is Arabion blood, but his soul could belong to another god. After all, the enchantment bloodline’s ancestor is a more famous deity.”
“The Lame Goddess…”
The name of the goddess who crafted Orem’s library, the old empire’s roads, and numerous other relics slipped from Meisa’s lips.
“It’s suspicious that the fourth bloodline, enchantment, appeared only when he stepped up. Maybe his own ego surfaces normally, but the god’s ego emerges when he uses power. He felt different when he stepped back versus when he took charge.”
“Yeah, he did seem like a different person. Wait, so a woman was wearing a man’s body? That’s its own kind of…”
Solif, nodding in agreement, got oddly fixated on whether a god in Badal’s body being male or female was stranger, muttering about it for a while.
Turan tapped a rock lightly to refocus them and concluded,
“The silver lining is that the head can’t wield his power freely. If he could, he wouldn’t have sent a proxy out first.”
This meant that even if the three of them couldn’t match Badal’s strength, they could win by simply reaching a level where they could hold their ground.
Then Meisa turned to Solif and asked,
“Baraha’s ancestor was the Silver Sun, right?”
“Yep. So what would my four bloodlines be?”
“Couldn’t we guess from scriptures or legends?”
At Meisa’s suggestion, Solif hummed thoughtfully before speaking.
“I’d bet one of mine is tied to close combat too. There are plenty of tales about wielding a sword of light to slay goblins.”
Goblins were an eastern species with shark-like teeth, notorious for eating children.
Though, like other species in modern times, they’d been driven to remote regions by humanity.
“I’d love to go back and ask—or rummage through the family library.”
Of course, as Solif said, returning to Baraha would mean immediate war.
A sudden thought prompted Turan to look at Meisa.
“Maybe you’ve got latent enchantment blood too, Meisa.”
“Me?”
“I only had two originally, after all.”
Her potential might exceed his, and a third bloodline could awaken when she hit her limit.
Perhaps then she could even rival Badal.
Turan figured Solif might have similar latent qualities too.
When he shared this, Meisa and Solif looked at themselves, then each other, tilting their heads.
“A third bloodline ability… could that really be a thing?”
“Is there a way to find out?”
“There’s one. We could visit Orem’s Library,” Turan said.
Solif, recalling a related story, nodded.
“Oh, that place in the west?”
“It’s not even that far from here.”
Even if the two couldn’t communicate with the librarian, Turan could mediate to identify their bloodlines.
Whether the librarian would agree was another matter, but they’d have to try.
Thus, their first group goal was set: visit Orem’s Library to confirm Meisa and Solif’s bloodlines.
They didn’t set out immediately, though, deciding it’d be better to move once Meisa’s health improved further.
With each day of nutritional intake, she visibly gained weight; over time, she’d become unrecognizable from her former self.
Eventually, she could roam the world boldly, and Arabion wouldn’t easily identify her.
They were looking for a skeletal woman—nobody would connect the transformed Meisa to her past self.
Over the next few days, they exchanged various magical techniques passed down in their families.
Starting with the thought-acceleration magic Meisa taught Turan, Solif shared several Baraha techniques too. But Turan, having trained with them already, had little left to learn.
He might step in to teach if either got busy, though.
“So, like this… Damn it, it’s not working!”
One discovery amid this was that, regrettably, Solif’s magical aptitude lagged behind Turan and Meisa’s.
Still, even he was a genius by ordinary mage standards.
Turan calmly demonstrated the spell Solif was struggling with, which Meisa had taught him.
“I’ll show you again, so follow me. Like this… Hm?”
Mid-demonstration, Turan’s face stiffened as he sensed two presences approaching from downslope.
One, judging by body shape and magic volume, was unmistakably Rida, a Ravitas noble.
Given this was her usual spot for hot spring baths, it wasn’t surprising.
In fact, her absence over the past few months had made him wonder if something was up.
From past chats, she’d mentioned visiting every few months or so.
What startled Turan was the noble following her.
Two to two-and-a-half times Meisa’s magic capacity.
Less than Arabion head Badal, but a monstrous amount nonetheless…
Seeing Turan visibly tense, Solif asked curiously,
“What’s wrong?”
“Looks like… we’ve got a distinguished guest.”
With that level of magic and arriving with Rida, the identity was obvious.
The head of the great Ravitas family was coming here.