Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Upon hearing that the head of the Ravitas family was approaching, the two others, like Turan moments ago, gazed down the mountainside with tense expressions.
Meisa was the first to speak.
“The head of a great family… could it be…?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think not, though.”
That was all Turan could say to her suspicion that a divine being might be possessing them.
Given that Rida had been searching for traces of the white elves, it didn’t seem like the Ravitas family had the ability to tamper with souls, but they had to consider the possibility of other methods.
Solif muttered with a grimace, clearly unnerved.
“…Should we run?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong. Fleeing would just make us look more suspicious.”
If the mage presumed to be the Ravitas head was overwhelmingly powerful like the Arabion head, they might have fled for safety, but fortunately, that wasn’t the case.
If the three of them combined their strength, they might not win a fight, but they could certainly escape with ease.
Besides, wasn’t the Ravitas bloodline ability more suited to survival than combat?
It seemed better to take a slight risk here and gather some information.
As the trio recovered the magic they’d expended during practice, the two nobles ascending from below met Aikul and exchanged words.
From Aikul pointing toward their location, it appeared he was informing them of visitors up the mountain.
When Rida reached them shortly after, Turan was startled by the appearance of the person beside her.
The source of that immense magic power was a refined-looking boy who appeared no older than fifteen or sixteen.
Likewise noticing their presence, Rida waved at Turan and called out.
“Well, if it isn’t Turan!”
“Long time no see, Lady Rida.”
“Long time? It’s only been three or four months. For someone like me, that’s as close as last night!”
Rida’s youthful face and voice clashed with her elderly mannerisms, making it hard to adjust.
Just then, the boy beside her gave a small cough, as if to remind them not to forget him.
“Ahem.”
“Come to think of it, this is our first meeting. This is Turan, from… where was it again…?”
“Kalamarf,” Turan supplied.
“Right, yes! I keep forgetting things in my old age. Turan here hails from Kalamarf in the northeast. A wandering noble, if I recall. And this is Osel Ravitas, my cousin.”
“I’m Turan.”
“Hm.”
Turan greeted him casually, pretending not to know his identity, and Osel, who’d been receiving the greeting with a stern face, frowned slightly and bowed his head after Rida nudged his side.
It seemed they too were trying to conceal that the boy was the Ravitas head.
As they drew closer, Turan heightened his relic’s senses to examine the symbols within the two.
A pair of clasped silver hands and a staff entwined by two white snakes.
Symbols of the purifier and healer bloodlines, respectively.
‘The Ravitas head doesn’t have a third bloodline…’
Seeing this, Turan could relax a bit.
It meant the boy before him was likely not possessed by a god, but simply an exceptionally powerful mage.
Though how he’d amassed such formidable magic power remained a mystery.
At that moment, Rida glanced at the two standing behind Turan and asked,
“It seems you’ve made more friends. Care to introduce them?”
“This is Sol and Misha. They’re in similar situations to me, and we hit it off, so we’ve been traveling together.”
Sol and Misha—those were the aliases the two had decided to use going forward.
Ideally, aliases should be completely dissimilar to their real names, but that risked delayed reactions when called, so they settled on names that were close enough yet already in common use.
“Nice to meet you,” Meisa said with a slight bow.
“You’re Lady Rida, right? Turan’s told me so much about you. You’re truly stunning!” Solif added with a charming compliment, playing the friendly card.
Rida, delighted by his gregariousness, laughed heartily and waved a hand.
“Flattering this old hag won’t get you anywhere! By the way, Aikul mentioned you’ve been here for a few weeks—did you come to enjoy the springs?”
“Yes. If our staying here is an inconvenience, we’ll leave right away.”
“Not at all! Nature’s gifts belong to those who use them, don’t they? Though…”
For some reason, Rida’s expression turned slightly concerned as she looked at them.
“Do you have any purification artifacts?”
“No, we don’t…”
“If you plan to keep using the springs, I’d recommend getting some. As you know, the monkeys here love soaking, but they’ve got a nasty habit of relieving themselves in the water. It won’t make us sick, but it’s still unsettling, isn’t it?”
Adding that she always cast a purification spell before entering, Rida’s words left Turan’s group frozen in shock.
Having dropped that bombshell, Rida glanced at Meisa’s face and seemed to realize something.
“Now that I think about it, you were looking for sulfur for an antidote, weren’t you? That young lady does look quite unwell. But didn’t you say she’s a noble?”
Meisa had gained nearly half her weight back over the past few days with consistent feedings, but by normal standards, she was still dreadfully underweight.
Though going from a skeletal corpse-like state to merely a sickly girl was remarkable progress.
To avoid her offering treatment, which could complicate things, Turan coughed lightly and changed the subject.
“The sulfur wasn’t for Me—Misha. She’s just a bit thin, that’s all. So, did you and your brother come here to bathe?”
“Indeed! The past few months have been hectic, and I desperately needed a break. Plus, my little brother’s been cooped up in the main house since childhood with hardly a chance to get out, so I thought I’d introduce him to Aikul while we’re at it.”
“Speaking of which, how old is your brother? He looks awfully young…”
At Turan’s question, a flicker of displeasure crossed Osel’s face—the boy presumed to be the head.
Perhaps he didn’t like being called young or youthful-looking.
Rida grabbed his cheeks and stretched them out, scolding him.
“Hey now, I told you not to frown. Keep scrunching up like that, and you’ll get wrinkles!”
“I’d rather have some, sister. This face lacks any dignity as it is,” Osel grumbled, his words muffled by his pinched cheeks.
The sight genuinely resembled an older sister and much younger brother, making it hard to imagine a god residing within him.
Rubbing his freed cheeks moments later, Osel addressed Turan’s group in an imperious tone.
“I turned one hundred and thirty-two this year. Despite appearances, I’m old enough to be a father to everyone here, so feel free to speak casually.”
132 years old—more than twice the age of Solif, the eldest among them.
Yet compared to Rida, he was still quite young.
Perhaps the “cousin” claim was a lie, or there was a significant age gap in their parents’ generation.
Having revealed his age, Osel soon lost interest and began chatting with Aikul.
This gave Turan a chance to ask Rida the question on his mind.
“By the way, has anything notable happened around the Shiraf wetlands lately? I heard the southern seas were quite noisy a while back.”
What Turan wanted to know was how the Baraha family was searching for Solif.
Since his last known location was the southern seas, Ravitas could be considered a potential hideout.
“Hmm? Anything notable? Oh, someone from the eastern Baraha family did visit a while ago.”
Surprisingly, Rida brought up exactly what Turan was fishing for.
Solif visibly flinched beside him, and Meisa discreetly elbowed him to calm down.
“What did someone from so far away want?” Turan asked.
“Apparently, an heir to a great family betrayed them and fled. They think he’s likely hiding somewhere in the southern archipelago, so they issued a bounty to every family near those waters. But they insisted he mustn’t be killed—captured alive so his magic can be absorbed.”
“Capturing a great family’s heir alive instead of killing him? That’s a tall order for ordinary families.”
Even the Baraha nobles who’d come for Solif had enough power to wipe out several average families with ease.
Killing him would’ve required at least a dozen families banding together.
And even then, they’d likely be picked off one by one.
“In return, just reporting his location gets you a decent artifact, and successfully capturing and delivering him earns a relic. They’re probably targeting great families with that offer too. Aren’t you interested?”
“Not particularly… Do they have a portrait or something?”
“They sent one, but I haven’t looked at it. I can get it for you if you need it.”
“No, I was just curious.”
Turan replied, glancing at Solif.
He’d assumed Baraha would pursue Solif discreetly, contacting only a few great families like before, but it seemed they’d launched a full-scale manhunt.
This would make it tough for Solif to operate with his real face in regions near the southern seas.
‘Might need to let Solif use this mask for a while.’
It’d block bloodline detection, but they could just borrow it back when needed.
As he mulled this over, another thought struck him, prompting another question.
“Has there been any talk about me?”
“You? Did you do something?”
“Well, I did wipe out a pirate crew in the southern seas.”
Considering that crew was a Baraha front, it wasn’t unlikely that word of Turan rescuing Solif had spread.
But Rida laughed incredulously and shook her head.
“The southern seas are crawling with pirates! That kind of news doesn’t reach us—it’s for the underlings to handle.”
“I see.”
In other words, Baraha had only put Solif on their wanted list, not Turan.
‘They must think I’m just some random small fry unrelated to Solif. I’m grateful for that, though…’
After all, the only one who truly knew Turan’s strength was probably Tasan of the Red Whale pirates.
As long as he kept quiet, Baraha would see Turan as just another wandering noble among countless others. They might’ve chalked up the pursuit team’s annihilation to coincidence after failing to capture Solif.
Of course, the full story would require digging into Baraha’s main house, but confirming he wasn’t wanted was a significant gain in itself.
‘Now that I think about it, I should check on the Red Whale pirates later. Need to see if they properly freed those people on the island.’
The route was a bit out of the way, but stopping by after the library visit seemed feasible.
—
After chatting a bit more, Turan told Rida and Osel they’d be leaving soon.
The two planned to stay around the hot spring area for a while, but Turan worried they might come across a wanted poster with Solif’s face.
Rida felt uneasy, as if they were driving Turan’s group away, but Osel seemed pleased to see the unwanted guests go.
Regardless, this encounter revealed one key fact.
Ravitas was likely not under the sway of a divine being.
Instead of flying off on Bije right away, Turan’s group walked northwest through the Shiraf wetlands, focusing on magic practice and health recovery as before.
When they deemed Meisa had gained enough weight, Turan initiated the second phase of her rehabilitation.
“Come on, harder!”
“Aaargh—!”
At Turan’s command, Meisa, face flushed red, yelled as she struggled to push her legs out.
She was performing the physical training method Turan had once endured under Haram, now incorporating some techniques Solif had learned from Baraha.
Turan and Solif took on the role of the training artifact—one supporting her back, the other pressing down firmly on her legs.
As she panted heavily, exhausted, Turan gave a stern order, just as Haram had done to him.
“Not time to rest yet—one more!”
“I’m really tired now…”
“Doing one more when you’re truly exhausted is what helps. Hurry!”
“Aaaaargh—!”
Like Turan back then, this training was agonizingly brutal but undeniably effective.
Thanks to a noble’s body naturally striving for an ideal form under magic’s influence, flesh filled the once skin-and-bones frame, quickly turning into muscle and fortifying her.
Her frame wasn’t naturally thick like Haram’s or Solif’s, so a robust build was out of reach, but reaching an average adult woman’s physique would still grant decent physical prowess with her immense magic.
After three or four weeks of heading north and focusing on Meisa’s rehab, the wetlands finally gave way to a wilderness.
Returning to the western wilderness after a long absence, Turan squinted slightly and said,
“Let’s go straight through here. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Didn’t you say you fought some army around here?”
“Yeah. I didn’t leave traces, but… just in case.”
He wondered if the side including the Baltas family had won the war by now, but they’d only know for sure at Orem.
Riding Bije’s swing, Turan’s group flew over the wilderness, peering down.
“It looks pretty desolate overall.”
“But with this many people moving about, the war must be over.”
Bije, recalling its prior visit to the library, guided them straight to Orem City without getting lost.
“Hey, you there! Wash up before coming in!”
“Oh, come on, this much is fine…”
“Get lost quick if you don’t want a beating!”
Watching a merchant bicker with a guard, Turan let out a small sigh of relief.
Orem City’s atmosphere was unchanged from before.
“Same old place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Looks like they won the war. Better the master doesn’t change.”
After passing through the gate uneventfully, the three headed straight for the lord’s palace.
Last time, Turan had snuck in alone, but that wasn’t an option now.
Unless they planned to smash their way in, they’d need permission.
“Is that the library?”
“Yep.”
“It’s huge…”
It was Meisa’s first time seeing Orem’s Library, and she let out an awed gasp.
Soon arriving at the lord’s residence, Turan waved at the knight guarding the entrance.
“Hey, long time no see. Your name was—”
“Ah, noble sir! Welcome!”
Fortunately, it was the same knight he’d met at the library before, so no need to flaunt his magic.
Guided inside, Turan’s group soon met Orem’s new lord.
“Greetings. You’re… Turan, right? I heard about you from Marvin.”
Orem’s new master, Gilon Baltas, was the nephew of the previous lord, Rug, and the older brother of Marvin, whom Turan had hunted with.
He’d inherited the position after Rug died near the war’s end.
“My condolences for the former lord’s passing.”
“Thank you. Your kind words ease the sorrow a bit.”
Despite his words, his face showed no trace of grief.
Turan didn’t bother asking about Izella, the former lord’s daughter.
Whether she lived or died, showing interest might annoy the current lord.
Unlike the previous lord, who’d casually permitted entry to hunt a monkey beast, this one demanded payment for library access.
Likely due to the war leaving the domain in ruins.
Since gold and silver were plentiful, Turan offered a modest stack of gold coins, secured permission, and headed to the library with the others.
“Welcome, noble ones.”
“Here’s the permit.”
“Verified. Enter.”
Receiving the knight’s polite greeting, Turan stepped inside and, once the door closed, called out loudly for the librarian.
Knowing from experience that voices didn’t leak outside, he had no reservations.
“I’m here, elder!”
“Looks like I’m invisible,” Solif grumbled.
“Same here. Damn, what a shame. Meeting an ancient spirit and I can’t see or hear it myself,” Meisa added.
Solif, with his keen interest in ancient tales, seemed especially disappointed.
At their urging glances to introduce them, Turan shook his head.
“No, I can’t see him either right now. He must’ve gone upstairs for a bit.”
The librarian was usually on the first floor—perhaps he had materials to look up?
Turan’s group waited a few minutes on the ground floor, but the librarian didn’t appear.
“…Elder?”
Turan’s voice echoed hollowly through the library.