Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 33 Turan savored his flight until the late hours of the night before finally returning to the Dirmin family's palace. As he was staying there as a guest, he felt it was only proper to spend a few days quietly accepting their hospitality.
Perhaps it was because he had taken an "unsellable" beast off their hands, but upon his return, he found his quarters had been moved to an even larger, more opulent suite. There was even a nest-like arrangement made of plush cushions in the corner, presumably intended as a bed for the golden eagle.
"Please call for me whenever you require anything, Master."
With a light wave of his hand, Turan dismissed the servants. He glanced at the golden eagle, which had already made itself at home on its new bed.
"You like it?"
The bird gave a small chirp and nodded. Turan let out a short laugh at the sight and lay down on his own bed to get some rest.
*
After a restful night, the next day marked the beginning of their formal literacy lessons—man and beast together. The classroom was a small clearing in front of the building where they were staying.
"Alright, try copying this."
Turan traced a character into the dirt with a branch, and the golden eagle followed suit, scratching the ground with its talons. Turan pointed out a few mistakes.
"This stroke goes downward. And for this one, you need a sharp flick at the end, like you're scratching it."
The golden eagle wasn't exactly a brilliant student by human standards, but among animals, it was nothing short of a genius. Watching the creature tilt its head and redraw the characters over and over brought back old memories.
I wonder if it was like this when Mother taught me.
In his childhood, he had learned to write from his mother using this very method. Parchment made from sheepskin wasn't something their small village could produce, and there were no other suitable materials available.
'You remember well, Turan. My son is so smart.'
His mother's voice, which he thought he had long forgotten, seemed to echo in his mind like a phantom. Just as he was getting lost in the sentimental pull of the past, he sensed someone approaching.
"Are you teaching it how to write?"
"Yes."
It was the daughter of the house head—Irid, if he recalled correctly. She was looking at him with an expression tinged with jealousy. She likely didn't appreciate seeing an animal that had ignored her now obeying someone else—especially when that someone was a fallen noble she looked down upon.
"Do you happen to know what the golden eagle likes?"
"I know it eats other animals."
"This one is particularly fond of fish. Specifically, the horse mackerel caught off the coast here is its favorite."
Turan glanced sideways, and the eagle nodded in agreement. Irid continued to rattle off a list of things one should know when raising such a creature, from its preferred diet to the amount of sleep required to maintain its health. Being born of a Tamer bloodline, she clearly knew her beasts.
"That's impressive. Thank you, that's very helpful."
When Turan offered his sincere thanks, Irid flinched and shook her head.
"I already have a fiancé."
Turan paused, wondering what on earth she was talking about. Then, realizing she had taken his compliment as a sign of romantic interest, he let out a dry chuckle. Regardless, he felt relieved; having a fiancé meant he wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable situations he'd faced back with the Baltas family.
"I see."
He acknowledged her statement, but for some reason, she seemed even more annoyed than before.
"Well, whatever... Do you have plans for lunch?"
"Nothing in particular."
"Then would you care to join us for a meal? The other guests are all curious about you, Mr. Brahms. If you don't want to, I won't force you."
"The other guests are looking for me?"
"Yes. Anyone who has visited the aviaries has coveted that bird at least once. Naturally, they're curious to see what kind of person was capable of becoming its master."
Naturally, Turan wasn't the only noble traveling the world. Except for remote areas where nobles were scarce, any major city usually hosted a few nobles on pilgrimages or wanderings. Back when he stayed with the Berk family, several such people had come and gone, though Turan hadn't gotten along with them. He had been the target of their jealousy simply because a wanderer of unknown origin was close to Asiz, the house head's favored second son.
Recalling those memories, he was about to refuse, but then he changed his mind.
"Very well. Shall we go now?"
He was currently in a position where he needed to gather as much information as possible about the Zahar family. In that regard, there was no reason to throw away an opportunity to speak with other nobles.
*
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Turan Brahms."
"Brahms? That's not a surname I've heard around here."
"I heard he came from the Carmine side."
"Then isn't he quite close to Arabion?"
As soon as the last person spoke, everyone glared sharply in their direction. Irid spoke coldly.
"Let's not associate our guest with those little sparrows for no reason."
"My apologies."
The atmosphere turned icy in an instant, and the speaker bowed their head in apology. Turan hadn't thought it was such a taboo subject, but it seemed the hatred for Arabion ran deep here as well.
As he exchanged greetings, Turan memorized the faces of the three nobles staying with the Dirmin family. There was a relatively young couple and one middle-aged man. The couple, the Gashubs, were from a nearby region on a combined pilgrimage and honeymoon; the husband was the heir, and the wife, Sila, was from a branch of the Zahar family.
The third person was a fallen noble, just like Turan's cover identity.
"Dolf Meren. I'm of the Strength-bearer bloodline."
Like the Guardian bloodline, Strength-bearers specialized in physical combat. While Guardians focused on defense, this bloodline specialized in raw physical power.
"Nice to meet you."
As they shook hands, Turan felt the man's grip tighten and quickly activated the power of his Guardian magic tool to its maximum. As expected, a crushing pressure squeezed his hand.
"Sturdy, as expected of the Guardian bloodline. Though your grip strength is lacking."
Confirming his superior strength, Dolf smirked with an air of superiority. Instead of getting angry at the provocation, Turan simply smiled as if it were nothing.
"I haven't done much training in that area."
"Hmph, well, few of us have inherited proper physical conditioning methods these days. Still, looking at your frame, it doesn't seem like you've done absolutely nothing."
"I've put in some personal effort."
"You trained that much on your own? I really envy weak people! No matter how big a boulder I lift, I barely feel a thing."
True to his words, Dolf had a good basic frame, but he was far from having a rigorously trained physique. In fact, this was one of the reasons why most physical combat bloodlines had fallen into decline. The kind of intensive four-week training Turan had completed was only possible because of the perfect combination of a skilled teacher, training artifacts, and a student filled with persistence and passion.
If even one of those three was missing, the training period would stretch from months to years, and most people lacked the patience to abuse their bodies for that long. Especially since, due to their naturally strong bodies, the training itself was far more painful than it was for knights or ordinary people.
"Look, we get that you're strong, so leave it at that. Where did you leave the golden eagle? I came here to see it."
When Sila, the wife of the Gashub couple, spoke with blatant disregard, the veins on Dolf's face bulged. However, he gritted his teeth and stepped back. After all, how could a mere fallen noble dare to talk back to a noble from a Great Family?
Turan ignored the tension and replied.
"I told it to fly around nearby. It must have felt cramped after practicing its writing all morning. Shall I call it?"
"Please do."
At least the husband was more polite in his request. Turan reached his hand toward the sky and sent out a thought.
Come here.
His thought traveled through the soul tether, and before long, the golden eagle came flying in from the distance.
"Wow, it's real..."
The eagle landed on Turan's arm and looked at the surrounding nobles with a wary expression. When Sila reached out as if to touch it, the bird snapped its beak shut in a sharp rejection. Seeing this, she scowled and muttered under her breath.
"Damned birdbrain! What do I lack that it acts like this? I could raise it much better than some fallen noble."
It was an incredibly arrogant attitude, showing no regard for the fact that the person she was insulting was standing right in front of her. Turan had seen several nobles from Great Families before, but this level of haughtiness was almost refreshing. Not that he liked her for it.
The golden eagle also glared, clearly unhappy with the insult, but it didn't attack, perhaps sensing the difference in power. Turan could feel the bird nudging him through their connection, asking him to get revenge on its behalf.
"S-Sila, don't say that. It's rude."
"Rude? Did I say anything wrong?"
The husband had some common sense, but due to his personality and the gap between their families, he seemed completely unable to control his wife's outburst. Even Irid, the heir of the Dirmin family and the host of this gathering, only frowned at the behavior without actually intervening.
This alone was enough to gauge the status the Zahar family held in the Enril Desert.
Despite the ruined atmosphere, the meal that followed was excellent. It was a course that perfectly captured the culture of Komad—a city nestled between the sea and the desert—featuring spicy roasted chicken seasoned with spices imported from the East, lamb chops with herbs on flatbread, and steamed fish and lobster.
After the meal, they shared tea and conversation, and Dolf was the first to bring up a topic.
"The West has been quite noisy lately."
"The West? You mean the Gray Zone?"
"Further west than that. The dark elves are causing a stir, so Arabion—I mean, the sparrows—have reportedly organized a massive subjugation squad."
Apparently, Dolf had lived near the region where the dark elves were rising before recently moving to the Enril Desert, where he heard the news. Turan sat quietly and listened, hoping for any recent updates.
"Did you hear who's leading it?"
"I heard it's their heir, that young lady."
"Ah, that scrawny skeleton? What was her name? Martha?"
"I heard it was Meredith."
"If I didn't hear wrong, it's likely Meisa."
Hearing his friend being discussed by others—and poorly at that—was a very strange feeling. The four nobles, excluding Turan, poured out all sorts of vitriol, calling her a hideous creature of skin and bones and saying that whatever man married her would have to keep his eyes tightly shut in the bedroom on their wedding night.
"Is there no way to assassinate that bitch while we're at it?"
"Assassination? We Zahars don't do such cowardly things. Though a few nobles might 'coincidentally' go on a pilgrimage in that direction."
"I suppose so. Ah, if only that bitch would die, the look on those sparrows' faces would be worth seeing..."
Sila smirked as she spoke, glancing at Turan and Dolf as if she were lying through her teeth. Then, the conversation shifted in a curious direction—exactly the topic Turan had been hoping for.
"Still, they must have it easy, having decided on an heir so early. I don't know how many years it's been since we've been waiting for one of the three to be chosen."
Judging by Sila's lament, it seemed that unlike Arabion, Zahar had no designated heir. Given that they spoke of it freely in front of fallen nobles, it didn't seem to be a secret, but this was the kind of information that was hard to come by unless one was in the company of high-ranking individuals. Commoners and knights wouldn't dare gossip about the affairs of the nobility.
"May I ask the names of those three?"
When Turan asked, Sila gave him a look of slight disdain before answering readily. She seemed to want to crush him with her superior knowledge.
"Lord Rahman, the house head's cousin; Lady Alma, his first cousin once removed; and Lord Perga, his grandson. They are all powerful nobles who distinguished themselves in the last war."
The fact that she used honorifics for all three suggested that despite her posturing, her own status within the Zahar family wasn't particularly high. That was likely why she was marrying into another family rather than bringing a husband into her own.
Regardless, Turan was slightly disappointed that the name Talis wasn't among them.
Just then, Irid muttered in a lamenting tone.
"I wish Lord Talis would just make a definitive decision."
At the sudden mention of the name, Turan's eyes widened for a split second before he desperately tried to calm his heart. He was worried that Sila, being of Zahar blood, might catch the scent of his sudden agitation.
After forcing himself to stay calm, Turan casually tossed out a question.
"And who might Lord Talis be?"
Fortunately, his self-control was effective; no one found his question strange.
"He is the house head's younger brother and the current second-in-command of Zahar. You could say he's the one actually leading the family."
The identity of the man Turan supposedly resembled was far more significant than he had imagined.
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