Kalamap was a special city to Turan. It was the first territory he had ever won and ruled himself. Its citizens were sheep he had fed and raised with his own hands, and its walls a fence he had painstakingly built.

And now someone was using his name to exploit the people of that very land? How could he not be furious?

But instead of storming off to the central mansion in a rage, Turan calmed himself and read the tax notice again.

'An amendment to the income tax. An additional levy on transactions involving certain luxury goods, then.'

Tax law and the like were commoners' business, so he knew little of the details, but he had acquired at least a superficial understanding while serving as Kalamap's leader. Judging by that knowledge, the new regulations posted here, at least, were not designed to squeeze the poor. The stipulated rates did not seem excessive, either. In other words, aside from having Turan's name attached to them, the provisions were quite reasonable.

Having confirmed that no one was ruthlessly exploiting the people in his name, Turan cooled his head, entered a nearby tavern, and ordered a drink. The elderly proprietor brought his cup over with a brusque remark.

"A young fellow like you drinking in broad daylight?"

"I've come a long way, and my legs are killing me. How else am I supposed to bear the pain without a drink?"

"A traveler, then."

"More or less. It's been about a year since I last came to Kalamap, and quite a lot has changed."

The tavern keeper snorted.

"Not that much has changed."

"Plenty has. When I left, there were statues of Master Turan around the gates, but they're all gone now... I heard a new lord had arrived. Did he have them destroyed?"

"Master Turan destroyed them himself after he returned. Said they embarrassed him. What could we do when he felt that way?"

"I see. Come to think of it, I heard Master Turan intended to leave. What brought him back?"

Speaking so respectfully of himself was rather embarrassing, but his skin had grown thick enough to bear that much naturally. He had even lived disguised as an entirely different man. What was this compared to that?

Apparently his performance was convincing enough, for the tavern keeper continued without a hint of suspicion.

"An ignorant fellow like me has no way of knowing what went on among the highborn, but he came back about two months ago and decided to rule the city again. A happy occasion. This city has welcomed its true master."

Judging by his age and the affection overflowing from his voice, the proprietor was probably one of the original residents who had remained when Turan first arrived in Kalamap—those who had watched him save the city from beginning to end and become his most zealous devotees.

Bearing that in mind, Turan chose his words carefully.

"Two months... Has he changed at all from before?"

"He wears a mask now. I heard he badly injured his face fighting some monster out in the wilderness."

"How awful."

"A terrible shame. If giving him the skin off this old face could heal him, I'd offer it without a moment's hesitation. Have you ever seen his face? Even the Freyan gods in heaven couldn't have been so handsome."

Even Turan blushed at such lavish praise of his looks. He drank another cup, then left the tavern with the excuse that he was feeling a little tipsy.

Next, he concealed himself in a nearby alley and entered city hall. Having gathered information from an ordinary citizen, it was time to see how things worked on the inside.

"Hey, where's the person in charge?"

"Out for lunch..."

"Tell him to get back here! With this much paperwork piling up, has he lost his—"

The city officials looked every bit as busy as before. Walking through that familiar scene, Turan picked out a few faces he knew among the people bustling about.

Then, deeper inside city hall, he encountered a knight. She was a woman of about thirty, yawning with an utterly bored expression, and within her he could see Zahar's symbol.

Since Talis had recently spoken of discovering his existence, Turan could make a fair guess at the situation. Zahar had doubtless done this to provoke him and lure him in. House Maburn, to whom he had originally handed Kalamap over, had always belonged to the pro-Zahar faction. A single growl would have been enough to make them surrender the city.

For several dozen minutes, Turan stood concealed in a corner of city hall and watched the officials work through petitions, reports, and all manner of other complicated documents. By the end, he concluded that there had been no particular lapse in discipline and no serious problems in the city.

'It's running so much better than I expected that I'm almost at a loss.'

The Zahar knights stationed here even went out to hunt monsters themselves when reports came in of sightings near the city, just as Turan had required of Alos, the House Head of Maburn who was to take the city over.

Having checked the internal situation, Turan finally headed for the central mansion, where the impostor would be staying. At the entrance, he took a look inside and burst out laughing.

'Well, doesn't this look awfully familiar?'

Luminous orbs—the simple magic tools he had seen at House Berg's mansion and Arabion's main house—were packed densely around the mansion, shining as though to warn any would-be Zahar assassin not even to think of setting foot inside.

Wasn't this laughably identical to the method used by their enemies in Arabion? It suggested that they, too, had no special secret for thwarting their own kind's stealth.

Then again, unless it was a secret art usable only by the Zahar bloodline, it would soon spread to others and become a blade aimed at them. Even if such a method existed, keeping it hidden would be the sensible choice.

Turan made a circuit of the grounds and confirmed that the place was thoroughly defended, making a concealed infiltration difficult. If he knew the layout well, he could slip in quickly as he had at the Berg mansion, but the central mansion of Kalamap he remembered had been little more than a shelter for vagrants.

But he had another way of examining the interior without going inside: the Mimic Holy Relic's unique sensory ability. Using it, he detected one upper-tier noble and two middle-tier nobles within.

'Judging by their numbers and strength, they're stationed here to capture one person at the upper-tier noble level.'

Each carried several fairly powerful magic tools, and unidentified barriers and spells had been laid around them. Had Turan come here as an upper-tier noble seeking revenge for the impersonation, they would certainly have made easy prey of him.

While he was still gathering information, he sensed the nobles inside begin to move.

'What? Surely they haven't noticed me scouting from this far away?'

His alarm proved needless. The nobles were merely setting out on an ordinary inspection tour. The false Turan rode a horse through the streets of Kalamap, accompanied by attendants who appeared to be knights.

"Oh, Master Turan..."

"He looked this way!"

"No, he looked at me!"

Judging by the crowd's chatter, these patrols were not particularly unusual.

The impostor was a man with a build quite similar to Turan's and the same gray ponytail, but he wore a metal mask intricately sculpted into the form of an eagle. A black eagle like Vije perched on one side of his saddle, though it was merely a well-trained bird, not a monster.

Pretending to be an ordinary passerby, Turan approached close enough to examine the symbols within the false Turan's party. The upper-tier noble impersonating him was a Zahar, while the two middle-tier nobles following behind in the guise of knights possessed the Barrier-user and Illusion bloodlines respectively.

'Barrier-user and Illusion. Both belong to Zahar's vassal houses...'

From behind, Turan watched the man impersonating him wave to the cheering citizens.

* * *

That night, on a hill near Kalamap, Turan greeted Vije for the first time in a long while.

Unlike the bird he had seen during the day, this black eagle had keen eyes that shone with intelligence. The moment she saw him, she hurled herself at him almost in a full-body tackle and rubbed her head against his chest. After he had spent some time stroking her back, Vije quickly scratched out a message on the ground.

[I was sad without you! Solif is stupid! Maysa is nice, but I like Turan better!]

"Yes, yes. I missed you too. Here, have something to eat."

[Stop trying to distract me with food!]

Despite her complaints, Vije eagerly gobbled up his secret weapon: the mutton jerky he had prepared in advance.

Perhaps because they had been apart for so long, she demanded affection in every way she could. Once he had indulged her, Turan took to the sky with Vije.

Their destination was Vigen, southeast of Kalamap. His next objective was to meet its lord, Alos Maburn, the man to whom he had originally granted the right to govern the city.

They reached Vigen in less than an hour. Turan extended the Holy Relic's senses, confirmed that there was nothing resembling a proper defensive system around the central mansion, and jumped down.

Hidden by stealth magic, he landed in the garden and entered without anyone noticing. Compared with the stronghold of a great house, the security was practically nonexistent...

That was inevitable for an ordinary wizard house. Making magic tools was the exclusive privilege of Enchanters, and most nobles with the Enchanter bloodline belonged to great houses. The next safest places were probably the strongholds of Barrier-user bloodlines.

Wandering freely through the mansion under stealth, Turan found Alos drinking tea alone after dinner. He dispelled his concealment behind him and spoke.

"It's been a while, Alos."

Alos sprang up, overturning the table with a tremendous crash, and stared at Turan as though he had seen a ghost. Understandably so: an intruder had suddenly appeared in a tea room at the very heart of the lord's mansion.

Naturally, the noise brought a maid's voice from outside.

["M-my lord? Is something—"]

"Nothing is wrong! Stay out!"

His shout provoked a little more commotion outside before silence returned. He let out a deep sigh and answered quietly.

"Yes, yes... Has it been a year, Lord Turan Zahar?"

Turan Zahar. Even after repeating it aloud once, he did not care for the sound.

Keeping that thought to himself, Turan deftly used telekinesis to right the fallen table, lift the spilled tea from the floor and send it away, then sat down opposite Alos. Watching him, Alos swallowed hard.

"Please, sit down first."

"I..."

"I haven't come to fight. I apologize for the rudeness of calling in the middle of the night, but given the circumstances, I hope you'll understand."

Despite Turan's polite tone, the fear on Alos's face did not readily fade. That was only natural. A person who broke into your bedroom with a knife did not become any less frightening by speaking courteously.

"I—I had no choice. I couldn't possibly defy your... relatives."

"I know. When I visited, I found they were governing quite well, fortunately."

Perhaps his consistently calm tone had helped, for Alos finally let out a deep breath, seeming somewhat reassured. Then Turan posed another question that tightened the leash around his neck.

"How much did you tell them about me?"

"Pardon?"

"You must have passed information about me to Zahar."

"Well..."

Alos went pale at the incriminating question. From past experience, Turan knew this lord was fairly clever. It was easier to talk to him while keeping him off balance and giving him no room to maneuver.

"You can tell me. It's a family matter, after all. Surely you don't think I'd harm you over that, Lord Alos? Did Lord Talis happen to visit as well?"

Confusion flickered across Alos's face at Turan's casual mention of Talis, one of Zahar's most powerful figures. After a moment, he spoke in a resigned voice.

"Yes..."

Alos confessed that he had yielded to House Zahar's pressure and told them everything he knew: his investigation into Turan's parents, Turan's participation in the Dark Elf subjugation alongside Arabion nobles, and even his demand during their negotiations that the city be governed responsibly.

'I see. So that's why they're governing it properly.'

If Turan was attached to Kalamap, ruining it would only make him hostile toward Zahar. Their intent was therefore likely to manage it reasonably well, overpower him when he came storming in after discovering that his reputation had been stolen, and then try to coax him over to their side.

"Do the other houses know that Zahar controls Kalamap?"

"No. Zahar ordered me to keep it secret. They said it would be troublesome if Arabion found out..."

"And do you know which noble is impersonating me?"

"I don't know that either. I only heard secondhand that someone was impersonating you at all."

The mansion's security alone made it clear that they paid Alos little consideration. They had left him like this despite knowing that Turan would almost certainly come to take revenge on him.

After hearing his full account, Turan spoke quietly.

"That will do. For now, give Zahar a message: as long as they continue governing as well as they are now, I'll forgive them for impersonating me."

"... Pardon?"

Alos could not help staring wide-eyed in surprise. Having learned that he was effectively being hunted, Turan was asking him to inform Zahar of his visit—an absurd enough request on its own. And his message was that he would 'forgive them'? Anyone would take that as a provocation.

Turan continued.

"Tell them this as well. Judging by this little scheme, they seem to want to recruit me into the house. But if hearing my message makes them neglect Kalamap's governance or deliberately harm it, I'll do exactly the same to Zahar's vassal houses in the Enril Desert."

"But that's an outright—"

"Yes. A threat."

Alos had no idea how to respond to Turan's utter confidence. He dared to threaten the great House Zahar, the most insidious, cruel, and relentless of all the great houses in the world?

No one could treat them that way unless they were an Arabion noble already committed to hostility with no room to retreat. No, even Arabion nobles would refrain from saying such things over most matters, if only to avoid provoking them.

"Zahar probably understands better than anyone what horrors could follow if a hostile Zahar noble roamed the desert harassing them while avoiding direct confrontation."

"Well... yes."

The fact that Turan was now speaking to Alos alone made it easy to imagine how terrifying the consequences would be. Arabion nobles could travel about reasonably freely now that the war was over, but during the war they had scarcely dared leave their own mansions, let alone go on pilgrimage.

"In return, if they quietly keep governing Kalamap, I'll come to meet them in person before long. Sometime in the next ten to fifty years. That's all you need to tell them."

"Will they accept that?"

"If they don't, both sides will have cause for sorrow."

Watching Turan answer so evenly, Alos knew instinctively that if they failed to govern Kalamap well, he truly would attack Zahar's lands as promised. Everything Alos's experience told him said that this was not the face or voice of a man bluffing.

Having made his declaration, Turan finally took an earring from inside his clothes and set it on the table.

"What is this?"

"I'm told it gives the wearer a slight resistance to fire. I happened to acquire it during my travels."

"Why are you giving me this...?"

"Because you tried to honor our contract, Lord Alos, and it was pressure from my house that caused things to go wrong."

When Turan explained that it was compensation for the lost city, Alos stared at him as though at a loss for words, then accepted the earring and put it on. Whatever else might be said, for the head of an ordinary house like his, even a single magic tool was a welcome possession.

"I gratefully accept."

"Not at all. I'm only sorry I have nothing more to offer. Until we meet again, then."

The moment he finished speaking, Turan vanished from his chair without a trace, as though he had been erased. Alos stared blankly, then broke into strained chuckles.

He might be the master of a house, but in the face of a great house, he could only feel how very small he was.