Naturally, Arabion's wizards did not immediately greet Turan's claim with cries of, "Ah, so that's what happened!" They had been told beforehand that their target, Turan, was a Zahar bastard who had concealed his identity and seduced their main house's heir to gain his own house's recognition.

"What a load of bullshit..."

"If the main house's leadership are White Elves, shouldn't we check whether the woman beside you has normal ears? Or was she sired by someone other than the House Head?"

Undeterred by their hostile reactions, Turan calmly continued his explanation. He described the Arabion leadership's irrational treatment of Maysa, recounting the corruption and slander within the house that had already been widely exposed, while deftly misrepresenting the motives behind it.

When Solif, who introduced himself as Baraha's heir, added his testimony that something similar had happened in his own house, their mocking expressions gradually grew serious. After Turan had spent some time beguiling them, someone finally spoke in support of his claims.

"Now that you mention it, there were a few suspicious things..."

Unexpectedly, it was the Frost-bloodline vassal who had been denouncing Turan most vehemently until moments ago. Over two hundred and fifty years old, he said he had known Kadram and several other senior members of Arabion since their youth.

"I did feel that a few of the main house's nobles began speaking or behaving differently at some point. At the time, I thought they were simply changing with age."

Hearing Turan's explanation had made those differences stand out in retrospect. After all, how many times had they gotten away with this? With not just one or two but more than three or four such people among them, some were bound to have let something slip.

Hearing this from a comrade who had fought beside them mere moments ago, and who was far older than they were, brought doubt to the other wizards' faces. Turan added another lie to drive the point home.

"And what about the techniques Kadram and that nameless Nagin wizard used just now? Those are the White Elves' secret arts."

He went on to explain that the special magic the gods used was an evil skill combining spirit arts and magic, available to White Elves when they took control of human bodies. Surprisingly, insofar as it described magic powered by the soul, the lie came fairly close to the truth.

Then one of the Arabion wizards tilted his head.

"But you used similar skills yourself, didn't you?"

They were all high-ranking wizards with extensive magical knowledge, and could hardly overlook the fact that Turan had wielded the same sort of uncanny power. He nodded and offered an excuse devised on the spot.

"That's because of a Holy Relic I possess."

"A... Holy Relic?"

"It can mimic an opponent's powers. Didn't you see the magic I used earlier?"

Before their eyes, Turan demonstrated flight, stealth, and the Light of Judgment, followed by the Earthkeeper bloodline's intricate manipulation of earth and the Tamer ability derived from the Nagin bloodline. Since one of them had a contract with a monster, he demonstrated the latter by severing that contract and then restoring it.

Watching him freely wield not merely one or two but five or six bloodline abilities left them little choice but to believe him. Solif, who was watching, spoke in a near whisper.

"Is it all right to show them everything you've got?"

"Arabion already realized I have the Mimic's power. I've gotten all the advantage I can out of hiding it."

"I guess that's true..."

Besides, he had already displayed all sorts of bloodline abilities during the battle. Those behind the Arabion–Nagin faction would get all the information they needed from Ymir, who had returned alive. Since Turan had imprisoned Kadram's soul, they would also learn that he could now handle souls.

After offering a few more persuasive arguments, Turan judged that the time was ripe and personally released the wizards' restraints. The seeds would already have been planted in those willing to believe him; keeping the others bound and talking at them would accomplish nothing if they refused to believe him to the bitter end.

"What? You're..."

"Go home and discuss this with your families first. You may spread this story far and wide or keep it secret among your acquaintances. It doesn't matter. All I ask is that you remember it's a possibility."

Rather than stubbornly insisting that he was telling the truth, his apparent indifference to whether they believed him made his words all the more convincing. Amid their bewilderment, one noble spoke in a daze.

"But if what you say is true, what can we possibly do?"

A wizard's duty might be to stand against the other races, but if those races had seized the leadership of the great House Arabion, they could hardly dare oppose them. Hadn't he said that even Badal, Arabion's godlike House Head, was in league with them? The young nobles before them were immensely powerful, but not powerful enough to stand against him.

"Being a House Head doesn't make someone invincible. If it did, they wouldn't have formed factions and joined them. Each individual may be weak, but together, their strength is not."

Of course, most of the surviving wizards were nobles of at least the middle tier, hardly people who would ordinarily be considered weak. Yet those words struck a deep chord with them now. The battle had driven home that they were mere supporting players, swept aside as easily as ordinary knights. Everyone wanted to be acknowledged as someone with a little more significance, a little more importance.

And so Turan planted the seeds of rebellion within Arabion.

* * *

Before sending Arabion's wizards on their way, Turan's party offered the mana of the fallen nobles of the upper tier and below to those survivors who had not yet reached their growth limits. Absorbing mana at that level would scarcely benefit them anyway, so they might as well earn some goodwill.

Naturally, Turan's party kept all the mana from the three top-ranking wizards and the mythical-class monster for themselves. The stronger one became, the less efficient absorbing a weaker being's mana was. Maysa therefore made almost no progress, but Solif gained a little, Turan a fair amount, and Vije a considerable amount.

After salvaging a few undamaged magic tools, they retrieved Melo from the distant underground shelter and returned to Zavillin. The heir's return threw the Berg mansion into an uproar in the early hours of the morning.

"The Young Master...!"

"I'll fetch the House Head at once!"

The knight's shout proved unnecessary. The House Head of Berg, her husband, and all the house's senior members had stayed awake through the night.

"L-Lady Maysa... No, Maysa. Is it really you?"

"Yes, Aunt. It's me."

"Your voice is exactly the same. Yes, it really is you..."

The Berg couple had little time to be moved by Maysa's return with a healthy appearance before a more urgent matter demanded attention: treating Turan and Solif's serious injuries.

As luck would have it, Lua Manag, the young Healer who had treated Solif before, was staying there as a guest and could help. The problem was...

"Is this the best you can do?"

"Yes..."

Lua nodded, sweating as she held her hands against Turan's shredded chest. The wounds were visibly healing, but so slowly that a full recovery seemed likely to take forever.

"I can't heal you completely with my power... Your lungs in particular seem to be injured. You'll need a stronger Healer."

His noble resilience meant that injured lungs would not immediately make him sicken and die, of course, but she advised him that he would have to accept reduced physical capabilities until he recovered. It seemed he would need to visit House Ravista again soon to have them healed.

Once their physical conditions had been attended to, they discussed Melo's kidnapping and the events in the forest. Unexpectedly, House Berg's senior members already knew a great deal about the matter. Asiz had told them while trying to persuade them to send Haram and anyone else who could help in battle.

"Asiz."

"S-Sorry. I was just so worried..."

"Never mind. It turned out all right in the end. Just don't do it again."

He would have had to tell them about it anyway to persuade them, so he might as well consider it time saved. After filling in what Asiz had forgotten or left out, Turan made their current situation clear.

"It's no longer safe to remain here in Zavillin."

"Hmm..."

They groaned, but no one disagreed. Their heir had just returned gravely injured after being kidnapped, after all.

Some were reluctant to leave, as theirs was a venerable house that had been established in the city for over a thousand years. Yet staying would mean a direct confrontation with the great House Arabion—and, if Turan was right, probably House Nagin as well.

"If we leave, then where should we go?"

"I recommend Kalamap."

Turan's proposed destination was Kalamap, a neutral city in the Gray Zone between Arabion and Zahar's territories. He had once ruled it himself; now Zahar nobles controlled it while impersonating him.

"Isn't that a rather precarious location?"

"That's precisely the point. As I said before, Arabion and Zahar were once allied, but they've since split. Of course, things might change if they learn I caused that split... It will depend on how we persuade Zahar."

His first thought had actually been to send House Berg to the hideout where Solif's parents were staying, but the house was far too large for that. However remote the location, concealing the traces left by well over a hundred residents would be impossible.

Nor could he take only a handful of senior members, given their strong bonds with the house's knights and dependents. Those left behind were certain to suffer vicious reprisals. How could the others flee with easy minds?

His next-best solution was to establish a third force between the two great houses, Arabion and Zahar, and maintain a balance. It would once have been out of the question, but now Turan was confident he could manage it.

'This battle severely weakened Arabion, and I've learned how to imprison the gods' souls. Before long, I'll be able to teach Maysa how to use their magic, too... If I can persuade Zahar, it's entirely possible.'

Of course, if the great-house Heads attacked together, his side would be helplessly overwhelmed, but Turan considered that unlikely. Hadn't Baraha's House Head paid dearly for leaving his stronghold not long ago?

If they really did come here in person, Turan intended to ride Vije to their strongholds and strike back instead. Once they lost the homes their souls could return to, none of them would dare leave their bases unguarded again.

After roughly three more hours of discussion, House Berg announced that it would follow Turan's proposal and relocate its base immediately. The concentration of authority in the House Head's hands, characteristic of wizard houses, helped them reach a swift decision.

Turan bowed to House Head Midella in gratitude.

"Thank you for accepting my proposal."

"We are the ones who should thank you. You've shown us a truth we didn't want to see but needed to, and even shown us the path forward..."

Friend of her son or not, Turan was now as powerful as the head of a typical great house. Unlike before, Midella spoke politely and bowed in return, humbling herself. Even great nobles respected a venerable noble house of the Enchanter bloodline, but strength ultimately mattered more.

"Then let's move at once. We don't know when Arabion might make its next move."

* * *

House Berg's relocation proceeded faster than expected. The wagons kept for transporting magical implements were piled high with the house's magic tools, along with relatively small and valuable possessions.

"What do you mean, you're leaving Zavillin?"

"Please don't abandon us, my lady!"

"Young Master Asiz!"

House Berg had ruled Zavillin well for over a thousand years, and the citizens wept as they begged them not to go. The tenderhearted Asiz responded by embracing an unfamiliar young commoner woman and sobbing.

"Anyone who wishes may come with us! But be prepared for a long and difficult journey!"

Every one of House Berg's servants and knights chose to follow, but naturally, none of the other commoners accepted the invitation. They needed a livelihood, and following a good ruler elsewhere was no guarantee that they could support themselves by doing the same work there.

And so a party of roughly two hundred left Zavillin through its southern gate and took to the main road.

"It's been a while, tilly."

The enormous horse whinnied as Turan greeted and stroked it. This was tilly, House Berg's horse monster.

The creature, whom he had first met while rescuing Asiz, was pulling an extraordinarily large wagon. Reinforced and made into a magic tool, it was so large and heavy that only a powerful monster like tilly could pull it.

"Want to say hello too, Vije?"

-This one's too weak! Once it's my underling, I'll have to make it stronger!

Vije, shrunk to the size of a kestrel, spoke haughtily from her perch on tilly's forehead. Her pride had soared sky-high after defeating four upper-tier Arabion wizards in aerial combat during the last battle. And now, having absorbed mana from several top-ranking wizards, she had grown even stronger.

"Yes, yes. You're the boss, so look after it."

Of course, tilly could not hear her words and simply kept pulling the wagon, unconcerned by the creature perched above its nose.

House Berg's procession traveled incomparably faster than ordinary people could. Many of the commoner servants rode in the wagon tilly pulled or were carried on the knights' backs. They had also abandoned most of their heavy baggage, while Turan's party stored what remained in their High-Capacity Pouches.

Thanks to that, they covered more than four hundred kilometers in just two days, swiftly reaching the valleys southeast of the Dakayn Plains. Maysa looked back toward Arabion's main house far to the north and spoke quietly.

"They're taking longer to come after us than I expected."

"They must have a lot on their minds. They'll need to figure out why their force was wiped out despite committing more than enough strength, and they'll have to contain the information I spread among the survivors."

This was precisely what Turan had hoped to accomplish by telling the Arabion survivors his story and releasing them. The greater the turmoil within, the harder it was to project strength beyond one's borders.

Kadram's failure to return in spirit had also very likely hampered them. Their attitude had always been that if things went wrong, they could simply die and return. Now they had learned that a misstep might leave them unable to return at all.

Considering that thousands of years of comfort were unlikely to have made them any braver, they might well be arguing over who should step forward.

"Excuse me, Master Turan."

Melo, House Berg's heir, approached him. He had regained consciousness the day after his rescue, but still seemed oddly subdued, as though he found Turan intimidating.

Remembering how numerous and powerful the Arabion nobles who had kidnapped and abused him were, he could imagine the immense strength Turan must possess to have driven them off and rescued him. Like Midella, he found it difficult to treat Turan casually as merely his younger brother's friend.

"Yes? What is it?"

"There's no need to be so formal with me... Anyway, I believe we're nearing the edge of the mountains. What should we do now?"

Normally, traveling from the Dakayn Plains, where Arabion lay, to the Gray Zone and Kalamap required heading straight south and then east through the forest region. Heading southeast instead brought travelers up against the mountain range separating the Gray Zone, the Dakayn Plains, and Karmine's hills.

These mountains were not as absurdly high or rugged as the Sky Mountains, so an accomplished noble could cross them easily enough. For a procession of refugees, however, it was out of the question.

Of course, Turan had not foolishly insisted on this route simply because it was the shortest on the map.

"We've arrived sooner than I expected. From here, let's fly across."

"Fly..."

Melo was wondering how they could possibly do that when they were not Arabion nobles, but a moment later his eyes widened. An enormous black eagle stood at the head of the refugee procession.

"Ready to put in some work, Vije?"

The gigantic Vije roared with all her might in a voice incongruously high and thin.