Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 8 Early that morning, Turan left Murei City and headed northeast.
According to Midan, the journey between the two cities took an ordinary person about a week on foot. At his pace, Turan could shorten that to two or three days.
As he left the city behind, the landscape grew increasingly lush. Thick forests lined the road carved by generations of travelers, and whenever the terrain opened into plains, golden wheat fields shimmered in the distance.
Naturally, where there was abundance, there were animals—and where there were animals, there were magical beasts.
As he walked, Turan periodically pulsed detection magic to sweep for nearby threats, hunting any beasts he found before returning to the road. Most were so weak that catching them felt trivial, but a few yielded useful materials, making the diversions worthwhile.
Perhaps because the road led to a major metropolis, he encountered other travelers relatively often. There were farmers heading to nearby villages to sell grain, peddlers moving between cities, and armed men who looked like a mix of mercenaries and monster hunters.
Some eyed Turan—a lone traveler—with a predatory glint. However, the moment they saw him cover the distance of four normal steps in a single, effortless stride, they would look away in terror, gazes fixed firmly on the ground.
By the afternoon of the third day, the dirt path gave way to a highway paved with solid stone. He didn't know who maintained it, but aside from a few weathered sections, it was exceptionally well-kept. Out of curiosity, he tried to chip the edge of a stone with magic, but it resisted him; the road itself was imbued with some form of protective mana.
Finally, on the fourth day, he arrived.
Though it had taken a bit longer than expected due to his frequent hunting detours, Turan reached his destination: Orem City.
"Come on, move it! Line up! You there! No cutting!"
Orem City was a metropolis that made Murei look like a backwater village. He had heard its population reached into the tens of thousands.
The outskirts were crowded with the shabby huts of the poor, while further in, a stone wall five meters high stood as a formidable boundary. At the city gates, guards clad in metal armor scrutinized everyone coming and going. Judging by the numerous portraits displayed beside them, they were on high alert for wanted criminals.
As Turan attempted to pass through the gate, one of the guards stepped forward, blocking his path.
"Hey, you. Your clothes are filthy. At least shake off the dust outside the walls before you try to enter."
The guard wasn't being unnecessarily difficult; Turan's clothes were genuinely wretched compared to those around him. He was still wearing the same outfit he'd worn as a shepherd, and it was heavily frayed. Furthermore, he hadn't properly washed during his four days of camping.
Having lived on Hisaril Hill where water was a luxury, Turan considered washing clothes a monthly chore at best. Murei City, being adjacent to the wasteland, also lacked water, so everyone there was similarly grimy.
In contrast, the people of Orem were neat and tidy, making Turan's appearance stand out like a stain on silk.
"I understand."
After shaking out his clothes outside the gate and re-entering, he was not stopped again.
Fortunately, he didn't need to buy information this time. Midan had told him that the library was the tallest building in the city. It wasn't hard to find. Amidst a sea of two and three-story buildings, a single tower soared upward, looking as if it had over thirty floors.
It must have been built with magic, Turan thought.
It possessed a majesty that felt impossible for human hands to achieve. As he drew closer, its sheer height became eerie, making him feel as though he could look down on the clouds if he reached the summit.
After staring in a daze for a moment, Turan snapped out of it and approached the guard stationed at the entrance.
"I heard that mages are allowed entry. Is that correct?"
The guard's face hardened. He had intended to chase away the beggar-looking youth, but what was this nonsense? Internally, he assumed the boy was just a lunatic, but a seed of doubt stayed his hand. He decided to verify the stranger's identity using a method only mages could employ.
Hm?
Turan's eyes widened as he felt a flow of mana emanating from the guard.
It was a technique designed to cause no physical phenomenon—a pulse of pure energy used to prove one's power. He recalled Keorn mentioning that mages used this to gauge each other's strength without resorting to a duel.
He had tested it a few times with Keorn, but this was his first time receiving it from a stranger. After all, this was the first time he had encountered another mage in the wild.
Turan gathered his own pure mana and projected it right back.
"Gah...!"
The guard let out a sharp gasp, recoiling as he took the brunt of the pressure. His mana felt like it was barely half of Keorn's—less than a twentieth of Turan's current level. He had no way to withstand the weight of it. Then again, it would be ridiculous to station a high-tier expert as a doorman.
Realizing the staggering gap in their power, the guard bowed his head instantly.
"I-I am Kesha, a knight of the Baltas Family. Noble Guest, may I ask which family you hail from?"
"Is it mandatory to say so to enter?"
"No! My apologies!"
The knight bowed even deeper, seemingly interpreting Turan's response as: How dare a mere guard ask for my lineage?
Turan was already starting to find the conversation exhausting. "No, I was really just asking."
After a moment of silence, the knight looked up. Realizing Turan was being sincere, he spoke in a timid tone, explaining that use of the library was only permitted to those authorized by the local lord—the Head of the Baltas Family.
This was quite different from what Midan had told him.
"I heard any mage could use it."
"That is... as far as I know, a commoner has never been granted permission. Only those of status."
Perhaps the story had been distorted because most mages were nobles, leading commoners to believe that being a mage was the only requirement.
Turan scratched his chin and sighed. "What must I do to receive permission from the Lord of Baltas?"
"That is a matter for the high-born; someone like me wouldn't dare to know. If you permit it, Noble Guest, I will contact the family and inquire on your behalf."
"Please do."
Turan leaned against the wall opposite the library's main entrance. Now that he had revealed his power, he would likely receive the 'hospitality' of the Baltas Family. He had been told that when a noble enters another's territory, it was proper to be treated as a guest...
Maybe I should have just snuck in.
He could have used the Zahar bloodline's stealth ability to infiltrate, but he had hesitated, fearing the library might have security systems designed to neutralize such powers. If he were caught, he'd have no excuse if they mistook him for an assassin—especially since the Zahar bloodline was famous for exactly that.
A short while later, a large carriage pulled by four horses raced down the main road and screeched to a halt. A middle-aged man acting as the coachman saw Turan and immediately bowed low.
"Welcome to Orem, the City of Wisdom, Noble Guest. I am Reden, a butler of the Baltas Family. The Lord of Baltas wishes to receive you. Could you perhaps spare us some of your time?"
"I will."
"Please, do not use formal speech with me, Noble Guest," Reden said in a subservient tone, looking as if he might crawl on the ground at any moment. Turan didn't quite understand the role of a 'butler,' but the man's cringing reaction made him sigh as he nodded.
"Fine."
"I shall escort you."
Turan had seen carriages in Murei, but this was his first time riding in one. During the journey, he focused his mind, preparing for any eventuality. It was unlikely, but if this family attacked him, he would need to use stealth and escape immediately.
Ten minutes later, the carriage stopped.
"We have arrived."
When he stepped out, a castle of pure white stone greeted him. It was five or six stories tall, with an elegant design that prioritized aesthetics over defense.
The butler spoke as they approached the entrance. "Would you like us to help you refine your appearance before you meet the Family Head?"
Turan didn't quite understand what 'refining his appearance' entailed, but he figured it was a necessary formality, so he nodded. As they passed through the main gate, three maids approached.
"We will escort you to the bath, Noble Guest."
Since he had been feeling grimy since his arrival, he welcomed the suggestion. The problem was that the maids followed him all the way into the bathroom.
"We will assist you with your bath."
Assist? Did they mean they were going to wash him like a child? Even though he had lived alone with his mother, he knew the basic boundaries between men and women. Turan frowned and shook his head.
"I'll wash by myself. Everyone, get out."
The maids' faces turned pale. They threw themselves onto the floor, crying out for forgiveness. One of the younger maids even began to sob.
Baffled, Turan pointed to the oldest maid. "Is it a problem if I wash myself?"
"Yes. We will be punished if we fail to serve a Noble Guest properly. Please, have mercy..."
He knew there was a class gap between mages and commoners, but he hadn't realized it was this extreme. Feeling a wave of exhaustion, Turan sighed and nodded.
"Do whatever you want."
A moment later, the maids stripped Turan and washed him with warm water and fragrant soap. He didn't have to lift a finger. They were professionals, scrubbing every inch of him with practiced efficiency.
Being naked in front of strangers and having them see the layers of grime washing off him was incredibly awkward—but the service was undeniably thorough.
After the bath, they combed out his long, tangled hair and helped him into new clothes. When the grooming was finished, the maids froze. The youngest maid, who had been sobbing earlier and was about Turan's age, blushed deeply and let out a soft exclamation.
"Wow..."
"What?"
When he turned to ask, she jumped and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. The older maid spoke in her stead.
"The Noble Guest is so beautiful that she lost her senses for a moment. Please forgive her."
She brought over a large mirror. Looking into it, Turan finally understood their reaction.
The first thing he noticed was his gray hair. He usually tied it back in a messy ponytail because cutting it was a chore, but the maids had combed it until it shone like polished steel, letting it hang loose. It perfectly complemented his ash-colored eyes.
His skin, once dark with travel grime, was now clear, making his sharp features stand out. The white clothes embroidered with gold thread made his tall, lean build look strikingly elegant.
If he had been a handsome beggar before the bath, he now looked like a high-born prince who had been pampered his entire life.
Fully groomed, Turan followed the butler to the banquet hall. Everyone they passed bowed deeply. Turan leaned toward the butler.
"Do they all know who I am?"
"It is because of your attire. In this castle, clothing accented with gold is a color permitted only to Noble Guests."
Just then, a young lady wearing a blue-gray dress embroidered with gold appeared from a side hallway. She tilted her head as she looked Turan up and down.
"Is this the guest who arrived looking like a beggar? What? Now that he's washed and dressed, he looks like a prince."
"A-Ah, My Lady. Calling him a beggar is..."
"What does it matter? I'm Izella. Izella Baltas. And you?"
Judging by her attitude, she was the daughter of the house. Her every word exuded an arrogance that screamed 'noble.'
Instinctively not wanting to be intimidated, Turan stood tall and spoke without bowing. "I am Turan."
"Just Turan? What about your family?"
"I cannot disclose that due to circumstances. I have an enemy family."
This was the excuse he and Keorn had prepared. He was to act as a noble on a pilgrimage to grow his mana, hiding his identity because of a blood feud. Since the Zahar family didn't even know he existed, it was awkward to claim the name, but hiding everything would only make him look like a common criminal.
As soon as he finished speaking, a surge of mana erupted from Izella's body, just as it had with the guard. She was testing him.
When Turan released his own power in response, their manas collided. A spark of light flashed in the air between them.
"Kyaa!"
The maids screamed and retreated. Turan analyzed the collision and felt a jolt of surprise. Izella's mana was nearly at the same level as his.
In truth, it shouldn't have been surprising. Regardless of his potential, Turan was still a beginner who had started gathering mana less than a month ago. However, because every mage he had met so far had been significantly weaker, encountering someone in his own weight class was a shock. It was like living among dwarves your whole life and suddenly meeting someone your own height.
But looking closely, Izella seemed even more shocked than he was.
"Wow..."
Izella, who had paused in genuine admiration, suddenly blurted out something that left Turan speechless.
"Hey, guest. Do you want to get married?"
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