Chapter 8
“Don’t touch it.”
“Huh?”
“I know it looks pretty, but… it’s poisonous.”
Uncle Leviathan sharply narrowed his eyes and pulled me far away.
“Sybelita herb.”
“Ah, this is—”
I started to correct him, then stopped.
Abelita and Sybelita.
The two herbs even had similar names, and at a glance, they looked alike. If you examined them closely, everything was different—but still…
‘To a normal person’s eyes, I guess they’d look the same.’
The biggest difference was the blue magical aura surrounding the flowers.
Because of that, mages would never confuse them, but to non-mages, it was difficult.
Unless you were extremely knowledgeable about herbs, that is.
“Don’t touch it carelessly. It could be dangerous.”
I withdrew my hand and obediently nodded.
Well, it wasn’t like I desperately needed it right now anyway…
“Your Grace! The tents are ready!”
“Let’s go.”
Uncle held out his hand. I took it and turned around.
“Whoa.”
Before my eyes, neatly arranged tents had already been set up in rows.
“That was fast.”
Knights moved through the camp in perfect unison.
“Heave, ho! Heave!”
Bulging muscle shows were happening everywhere.
They might look like ordinary muscle men, but every single one of them was a high-ranking knight who’d made a name for himself in war.
“As expected of Northern men…”
I muttered in admiration, nodding to myself.
“You’ll be like that soon enough.”
“Uhh… what?”
“The Gebert family is a family of knights. If you’re going to stay with House Gebert, becoming a knight is only natural. You’re no exception.”
What kind of lightning strike of fate was this?
“You’d be better off building some strength in the North.”
Excuse me, I’m actually a fairly strong mage—I just have to hide it…
I briefly imagined my future.
Running around the training grounds with a paper-thin body and throwing up.
Swinging a sword hundreds of times and throwing up.
Firing a bow a million times and throwing up…
‘A vomiting ending…’
How is that any different from doom?
“I don’t know what you’re imagining, but that expression is something else.”
“Mm. I’m a fragile, delicate child whose emotions show easily. I’m bad at hard things.”
“Only when it suits you.”
“I’m bad at har—”
“I told you, being cute won’t help.”
Uncle lightly pinched my earlobe.
“Don’t worry.”
He casually lifted me up, my arms and legs dangling like a doll’s.
I met his gaze—those neatly curved eyes, and the sparkling violet pupils beneath them.
“I’m planning to do something about those scrawny limbs first.”
It sounded like a witch whispering about fattening someone up before eating them.
“I’ll train you properly in the North.”
“Please don’t say things like that while smiling evilly…”
I think I followed a villain disguised as a hero.
While the villain went off to inspect the camp, I escaped to Sir Leon’s side.
“Sir, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Sir Leon was sitting on a rock, taking off his upper garments.
Even in a situation like this, the way he folded his clothes into sharp, perfect lines was… honestly a bit exhausting to watch.
“You don’t look ‘fine.’ Your whole body is rainbow-colored.”
Red, yellow, blue…
How had he endured all this?
The worst was his shoulder—it looked like he’d slammed it hard against something.
“Ah—how did you even ride a horse with this shoulder? And I had no idea and insisted you let me ride…”
I sighed worriedly as I looked at the swollen injury.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Sir Leon flustered slightly.
“Th—this is my fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But—”
“Don’t… make that face. Honestly, I could carry someone like you around for a whole month.”
“That’s actually kind of offe—ugh! Wait!”
A sudden unpleasant smell assaulted my nose, and I clamped it shut. It was coming from the mysterious object Sir Leon had pulled out.
“What is thaaat?”
“…It’s just ointment.”
“It stiiinks!”
“It doesn’t smell that bad.”
Uncle Leviathan appeared out of nowhere, ruffling my hair as he laughed.
No way!
Using such an old-fashioned bruise ointment?!
These days, there are plenty of odorless, highly effective ointments.
…Well, only in the Mage Kingdom.
“It’s cold, so stop playing around and get inside the tent.”
He draped a thick cloak over me.
“Ugh… okay.”
I quickly stood up.
Because Sir Leon had started slathering the ointment all over himself like a pig rolling in mud.
So much for ‘not hurting.’
Looks like it hurts a lot.
“I’m going to check for monsters around the camp. Stay here and rest quietly. No causing trouble.”
“Yes, sir!”
After personally placing me inside the tent, Uncle rode off with the dark-clad knights. Thanks to the blazing brazier, the inside was a little too warm.
‘Hmm…’
I hesitated, keeping the cloak on, then quietly moved.
Toward where the Abelita herbs were.
“So this is when I end up needing it.”
I harvested a small amount and slipped it into my cloak pocket.
Back in the tent, I washed it with clean water, separated the stems, leaves, and flowers, then finely ground them using a flint stone nearby.
‘For this kind of ointment… was it this ratio?’
I estimated while looking at the bruise ointment I’d found in Uncle’s luggage.
Herbology was one of a mage’s basic skills.
I planned to upgrade the ointment’s effectiveness using the herb.
‘It’d be even better if I infused mana…’
But that would look suspicious, wouldn’t it?
Handing over an ointment that heals injuries overnight?
I obediently limited myself to mixing only the herb powder.
That was when it happened.
A crackling noise came from somewhere.
Bzzzt… bzzzt…
It sounded like a modern radio frequency.
I froze mid-stir and snapped my head up.
“……”
The surroundings were silent. Only the tent flapping in the desolate wind.
What was that? My imagination?
I tilted my head and returned to the ointment.
Bzzzt…! Bzzzt…!
The static returned—louder than before.
“No way.”
I carefully touched my ear.
Behind my right earlobe was a tiny magic circle—small enough to be mistaken for a mole or scar.
A Vow Crest.
But I hadn’t made the vow.
I was the one who had received it.
“Khalid?”
I murmured while pressing the mark.
The static stopped. Then, as if the frequency aligned, a clear voice followed.
[ Master! ]
‘Khalid, is that you?’
I closed my eyes and focused on the connection.
Khalid was a child I’d met on the battlefield.
I’d only saved him once, but he followed me around calling me “Master.”
We’d separated when I left for the Canalan Gorge.
[ Do you know how worried I was when I couldn’t read your mana? ]
Khalid snapped quietly.
[ I couldn’t feel you. Anywhere. ]
Mage vows were extreme by nature. Once exchanged, their mana intertwined like ropes.
Thanks to that, simple communication—or checking whether the other was alive—was easy.
But it also meant…
Dragging around an extremely troublesome tail for life.
[ Where are you? ]
‘I’m—’
[ Ah, Barmilon. ]
He didn’t even give me time to answer.
[ Stay right there. I’m coming. ]
‘What?! How are you coming? This place is far!’
[ Cute. Being surprised like that. ]
‘What did you say?’
[ Press behind your ear harder. I can’t hear you. ]
I pressed my earlobe firmly.
‘How are you coming? Weren’t you at the southern edge of the continent?!’
Khalid only laughed softly.
[ There’s nowhere a runaway mage can’t go. ]
Ah, right.
He was the mage who had escaped the Mage Kingdom before I did.
More precisely, his pregnant mother fled the kingdom while hiding her condition.
She gave birth to Khalid somewhere on the continent.
Which meant Khalid was an unregistered mage.
[ See you soon. ]
‘No, wait—that’s not what I mean! If you get caught, I’ll—hey! Hello?! Khalid!’
The connection abruptly cut off.
No matter how much I called, there was no response.
‘Khalid? Khalid!’
It seemed he’d intentionally severed the mana circuit.
In other words—
He blocked me!
That audacious Khalid Riork!
“Just you wait.”
I ground my teeth. When I see him, I’m biting the back of his hand!
Late at night.
Leon Schjerk finished patrolling the perimeter and was about to enter his tent.
“Sir. Sir.”
Leon stopped.
A tiny hand reached out from the left side of the tent, waving gently. Without realizing it, his feet moved closer.
“……”
There stood a child barely reaching his waist, smiling with hands clasped behind her back.
Blue eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Soft-looking silver hair.
The back of her hair was messily cut, but—
‘She looks incredibly soft…’
Leon remembered the small head bobbing against his chest earlier that day.
Long ago, he’d once been shocked by the feel of a white skylark’s breast feathers in the forest.
‘Is it like that?’
He had to stiffen his body several times just to stop himself from reaching out.
“Are you feeling better?”
The child asked suddenly, cheeks faintly flushed.
As he hesitated, Rubian suddenly revealed what she’d hidden behind her back.
“Ta-da! A present!”
“…What is it?”
Leon accepted it reflexively. Inside was a semi-transparent ointment dotted with powder.
“Ointment?”
“Yeah. It smelled really bad, so I crushed some flowers and mixed them in.”
Leon chuckled.
Is this what childlike thinking is?
If it smells bad, just cover it with flowers?
‘But… it does smell kind of nice?’
He used bruise ointment like breathing—so much that he’d grown accustomed to the stench.
More than that, he didn’t understand why she was giving this to him.
Leon looked down at Rubian.
“Why give this to me…?”
“Thank you for letting me ride your horse earlier.”
Her clear voice spoke carefully.
Leon Schjerk knew nothing about children.
But he could tell that this child was somehow different from the children he’d seen in the capital.
The children of the capital were simply bright.
Their laughter echoing through the central plaza like bells.
That was his pride.
The pride of having protected that laughter.
His gaze returned to Rubian.
“I won’t be a burden. Don’t worry.”
No child he knew spoke with such firm resolve.
At least, none that he’d met.
Leon regretted what he’d said earlier that day.
Hadn’t he been too harsh?
But he didn’t know how to soften his words.
He’d spent ten years on the battlefield.
Of course his way of speaking had changed.
‘Even after saying something so cruel…’
She was thanking him.
“You know… the war is over.”
How did she know he was still clinging to it?
Leon suddenly felt his mouth go dry.
He wanted to make up for his earlier mistake.
This time, better. Kinder.
“I… well…”
“…?”
“I didn’t mean that you were a burden.”
Fluff like you being a burden—absurd.
What he really meant was—
That a small, soft child like her should live peacefully in the capital, running through plazas like the other children—
“I mean…”
That she should smile like that.
“Ha… this is hard.”
So he said it plainly.
“I’m sorry. And thank you.”
Rubian looked as if she understood everything.
“Mm!”
Before he realized it, Leon reached out and patted her round head.
Under his clumsy touch, Rubian smiled, lips pursed like a little bird.
A warm breeze seemed to pass by.
As expected—
It was unbelievably soft.
After Sir Leon recovered somewhat, the journey resumed.
There were no delays.
The knights had acquired a new carriage from somewhere—one with huge windows that made it feel completely open.
Little by little, I grew used to riding in it.
Whenever I stayed inside longer, Sir Leon seemed oddly disappointed—but surely not.
Anyway, after several more weeks of travel, we finally arrived.
At the Gebert Ducal Territory.
