"Where have those two gone now?"

"I heard they went back to their tent to rest."

With the long, tedious meeting over, the chief of the Golden Fleece tribe walked along, listening to his subordinate's report. The face of the man who led the largest force on these grasslands showed savagery and exhaustion rather than solemnity or dignity.

"Damn it, they made me lose face by running off like that! I specifically told them to stay put. What were you doing instead of stopping them?"

"My apologies."

"Tsk."

Of course, with Moroz nearly as powerful as the chief himself, his subordinate could never have stopped him alone. Both men knew perfectly well that he was merely venting his anger.

"Tsk. I never should have taken that bastard in."

The chief had been delighted when Moroz first sought refuge with him. It was well known that the more powerful a shaman—what outsiders called a wizard—became, the less ordinary healing could do for them. Wasn't this practically an extra life?

Even Moroz's other power, his Purifier ability, was immensely important on the grasslands. If an epidemic went unchecked and killed hundreds of their livestock, the losses would be beyond reckoning.

But the price of taking him in had proved steeper than expected. Coveting his abilities, the other grassland tribes constantly encroached on Golden Fleece territory, refusing to leave and picking fights on every imaginable pretext.

Your people stole our sheep, they killed our people, they killed the sacred bird our tribe worships... The fact that genuine offenses were mixed in with false accusations made it all the more troublesome.

'How should I know where or how that foul-tempered bird dropped dead?'

Recalling the protest he had just heard from the Black Eagle tribe's chief, he finally reached Moroz's tent. No doubt the man was having a merry tumble with his pretty little woman by now.

Moroz would be angry at the interruption, but the chief was the one who had cause to be angry. It was time to give his leash a tug.

"Hey, Moroz! I'm sure I told you to stay put..."

He flung the tent flap aside, but his shout trailed off as he looked inside, his eyes widening in shock. On a bed made needlessly large at its occupants' request, a man and woman lay naked and dead.

There was a hole in each of their chests, as though they had been pierced together. Moroz had even been beheaded, as if the killer had borne him some deep grudge.

"W-what do we do...?"

The subordinate beside him asked with a blank look.

"How the hell should I know?"

* * *

"Let's rest here a while."

Over a rather desolate stretch of grassland, Turan told Vije to descend. They had left the Golden Fleece tribe's tents behind.

A fairly plain necklace dangled from his hand. Its chain was thin gold, with a small horizontal bar intertwined with a longer vertical one at the center.

Turan had obtained the object House Ravista had spent so long struggling to recover as easily as pulling something from a pocket. Of course, the efforts of the Ravista wizards who had tracked its whereabouts beforehand had made that possible.

After landing and putting Vije inside his body, Turan slowly slipped the necklace around his neck. He immediately felt vitality spreading through him.

'So this is what it feels like.'

This Holy Relic, the Humble Wish, continuously bestowed healing and purification magic on its wearer. Perhaps its effects had taken hold: the taste of blood lingering in his mouth from his latest bout of coughing vanished.

But as he had heard before, its healing power was not extraordinary, and it did not cure his lung ailment on the spot. That would require his second solution.

With a click, he turned the Mimic Holy Relic and felt the power of the Ravista bloodline he had just acquired. A vitality much like the necklace's welled up within him.

'Exceptional vitality was one of the Healer Bloodline's abilities.'

His attack on Moroz and his lover had driven that point home. The lover, a mere knight, had died instantly when the blade pierced her heart, but Moroz had stubbornly survived.

Of course, he had been too overwhelmed by agony, terror, and confusion to collect himself, so Turan had simply cut off his head and finished him.

In any case, Turan could now share that remarkable vitality by activating the Ravista bloodline. His body would probably even stop aging, so long as he did not switch the relic to another bloodline.

'It's a shame I had to give up the Earthkeeper bloodline for it, though...'

Turan's Mimic Holy Relic had held five powers in total. Three originated from the great houses of Baraha, Karmine, and Nagin.

Baraha's power was an immense help in combat under any circumstances. Karmine's became even more terrifying with plenty of water nearby. And Nagin's was deeply connected to soul magic.

None of those three great-house powers could possibly be discarded, leaving the relatively ordinary Berserker and Earthkeeper bloodlines for consideration.

After deliberating at length over which to give up, Turan had finally chosen the Earthkeeper bloodline. It had been useful for tasks such as reclaiming land, but unlike the Berserker power, which would help him in close combat in an emergency, he felt he could make up for its loss through his own skill.

'Now, let's see whether this lives up to my expectations.'

With the Ravista bloodline active, Turan immediately cast healing magic on himself. A critical wound would have required him to open up his body and treat the affected area directly, but his condition was not that severe.

Before long, the persistent stabbing ache in his chest began to subside. The breathlessness that had accompanied even slightly hurried movements vanished as well.

Soon, he realized that the lung ailment which had plagued him ever since the battle had been cured in an instant. It was so simple that calling it anticlimactic hardly did it justice.

'It was this easy...'

He was left wondering what all his suffering had been for. After spending a little longer ensuring the ailment was completely healed, he brought Vije out and looked back as they took to the air.

Would his intervention and Moroz's death plunge the grasslands into greater chaos, or would they return to their former peace? He did not know, but he hoped they would at least become a place where Mago and his tribespeople could live safely. He was too busy to intervene now, as always, but perhaps someday far in the future he could return and set a few things right.

* * *

On the journey back, Turan set himself yet another new task and devoted himself to it: reforging his soul to become immortal, to match his ageless body.

'It probably won't be easy. It might even take a lifetime.'

Lida and House Ravista's nobles had described dying despite their unaging bodies as the aging of the soul. They said that when the soul grew old and died, the body could no longer sustain itself.

Her explanation was only half right. Strictly speaking, what deteriorated with time was not the soul but something that could be called the junction connecting body and soul. In soul magic, it was called the spirit chain, for it was the chain binding the two together.

This also explained how the Freyans could enjoy a full lifespan in a new body. The spirit chain was a mysterious organ, half physical and half spiritual. Even if its spiritual half had rusted, the connection could hold, albeit somewhat loosely, as long as the physical half remained sound.

Surprisingly, the study of soul magic included methods for training this spirit chain. Of course, these were techniques for loosening and fastening the connection at will, not for reversing or halting its deterioration.

Still, further research along those lines might yield an answer. For the moment, he set aside the thought that even gods who had lived thousands of years had failed to achieve it.

While he immersed himself in soul magic, Vije faithfully flew west across the South Sea. Retracing their route took about two days, thanks to a timely east wind.

After another day or so crossing Shiraf Marsh, Turan reached Ravista's capital, Merem. Rather than visit Lida's empty mansion, he went straight to the House Head's residence.

The gatekeeper must have received instructions beforehand, for he immediately fetched Lida. Looking more exhausted than before, she studied Turan's face with a mixture of disappointment and suspicion.

"You're back so soon. Surely you haven't...?"

"Here it is."

Had his swift return made her think he meant to give up? Her eyes widened when he held out the Holy Relic.

She put it on and removed it again, perhaps to check that it was genuine, then said, "Thank you," in a voice thick with emotion. Just as the critically injured House Head, Osel, treasured Lida, she clearly treasured her powerful younger cousin.

"I asked you several times, but I never truly expected you to bring it back... You have done both me and our house a tremendous service. If there is anything you want in the future, anything at all, tell me."

Unlike her usual composed, dignified manner, her tone called to mind a shy young woman confessing her feelings. After offering her heartfelt thanks, Lida turned to take the necklace to the House Head, but Turan stopped her with a question.

"May I ask you one thing?"

"What is it? If it isn't urgent, perhaps later..."

"Forgive me, but I tried it briefly out of curiosity. Its healing power didn't seem strong enough to help the House Head recover. Is there another way to use it?"

Lida looked puzzled by his question, then shook her head.

"All we're doing now is slowing the deterioration of Osel's condition. With a continuous healing effect added to that, we should gradually be able to alleviate the curse itself. It will take quite some time, though."

He had wondered whether there might be some special technique, but apparently even Ravista had no other way of using the relic. From what Lida said, it would be quite a while before Osel recovered enough to rise from his bed. And Turan now possessed an ability that could be an enormous help in precisely this situation.

"Then perhaps I can offer a little more help."

"Help? Do you have some way to...?"

Her question died away as Turan drew a long blade from his pouch. Had he not just returned her house's Holy Relic, she would have summoned other nobles or knights at once.

Naturally, Turan had no intention of harming her. Instead of swinging at Lida, he lightly cut his own right hand. Dark red blood dripped onto the fine carpet.

"What—why would you do that?"

Lida cried out in alarm, then her eyes widened at what followed. As Turan touched the wound on his right hand with his left, it began to close naturally.

To heal so powerful a noble like that, a healing magic tool would have to be at least on the level of a Holy Relic. No—as a Healer herself, Lida knew perfectly well that this was not the work of a magic tool or a Holy Relic.

"How in the world do you have the Healer Bloodline...?"

"It's one of my modest talents. Might putting it to use help Lord Osel?"

Judging by her frantic nodding, he hardly needed to hear an answer.

* * *

With Lida's permission, Turan finally entered the innermost sanctum of the House Head's residence. It was a tightly guarded space, filled not only with defensive magic tools of every kind, but with the power of objects he suspected were Holy Relics.

At its center lay Osel, on the same operating table where he had once operated on Maysa. With pale flames rising from his chest, the pallid, beautiful boy looked almost pitiful.

Around him, Ravista's high-ranking nobles were pouring healing magic into him with exhausted faces. The white flames faltered with each application. They seemed about to sigh in relief at the sight of Lida, only to recoil in horror when they saw Turan following her.

"What... How did an outsider get in here?"

"What do you think you're doing, Grand Madam?"

Their reactions were perfectly understandable, given that an outsider had suddenly appeared while they were treating their gravely injured House Head. Lida held up the Humble Wish, the Ravista Holy Relic Turan had recovered.

"Our friend young Turan has brought us the Holy Relic that will save the House Head. Lower your voices."

"Ahem, I was only..."

The high-ranking nobles looked sheepish at this unexpected revelation, but soon raised their objections again.

"We are truly grateful that he has returned our treasure, but that is a separate matter. How could you bring an outsider here when the House Head is critically ill?"

"Indeed. Especially after what happened, this is entirely inappropriate."

They objected without even asking why she had brought him. Apparently, unlike Lida and Osel, plenty of Ravista's high-ranking nobles were rigid and closed-minded.

In truth, every great house was much the same. People generally grew more obstinate and stubborn with age, and being a powerful wizard did not change that. Not even for Ravista's nobles, whose outward aging had stopped.

Lida made a quiet declaration.

"Young Turan has brought a secret means of restoring the House Head. All of you, step outside for a while."

"What secret means?"

"I am asking you to leave because I cannot disclose it."

Lida ordered them out in the same imperious, unyielding tone she had once used with Solif's father, Godis. Naturally, the high-ranking nobles, whose foremost concern was the House Head's injuries, resisted. In the end, however, they had no choice but to obey. Not only was she among the oldest of the elders, she was the elder cousin who had nursed the current House Head Osel at her own breast and raised him.

"If anything happens to the House Head, you will have to take responsibility, Grand Madam."

"Of course."

Once the last holdout had left, Turan sat beside Lida and looked down at Osel. The white flames, suppressed until moments ago by healing and purification magic, were gradually spreading.

"Oh dear, we must hurry. First, this."

As soon as Lida carefully fastened the Holy Relic around Osel's neck, the flames' advance slowed noticeably. She sighed in relief and turned to Turan.

"Now, work your magic as I guide you. You won't be familiar with this yet..."

Like a mother teaching her baby to walk, Lida gently took his hand and guided it. He followed her instructions, using healing and purification magic, and before long the flames surrounding Osel began to subside.

Not only had the Holy Relic halted his deterioration, but a Healer whose strength approached Osel's, though still falling short of it, was now bringing his power to bear.

About an hour later, Ravista's House Head finally opened his eyes.