The Shepherd Alone on the Hill is a Genius Wizard-Chapter 71: The Soul of Fire Reborn (1)

After asking others for more details, it turned out the high-ranking person who had passed away was none other than the head of the major house Labitas.

Naturally, the villagers didn’t know why such a person had died, but circumstances suggested it was from old age.

If the head of a major house had been murdered, the atmosphere wouldn’t just be unsettled—the entire wetlands would have been turned upside down.

’Well, when even gods die of old age, what can a major house head do differently?’

Turan recalled the appearance of the Arabion head he had seen before.

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A being that looked like a natural disaster in human form, scorching the earth with thousands of lightning bolts from a single gesture.

It felt particularly futile that even such beings couldn’t defy their predetermined lifespans.

That evening, Turan stayed in the village meeting hall and first experienced the wetlands’ cuisine.

Befitting a village by the water, most dishes were fish varieties that were all steamed or boiled, with quite unique flavors due to various local spices added to counter the strong earthy taste.

"Here, have plenty!"

"Young friend, you’re a traveler from far away? Tell us some stories about how the world is going!"

"We’re all country folk who’ve never left this area."

"Must be lots of interesting things out there?"

The hall was now packed with dozens of villagers, all wanting to hear the traveler’s stories.

They offered food and lodging in exchange for Turan sharing his travel tales.

They explained that due to the nature of the Siraf Wetlands, carriages and wagons had difficulty passing through, so even peddlers rarely traveled between the inside and outside of the wetlands, making stories from outside travelers precious.

True to those words, these people differed greatly from the western prairie in everything from clothing to architecture despite being not far apart.

It felt similar to when he first went to the Enril Desert.

While the parents were chattering away, several children who had followed tried to touch Bize perched on the rod at Turan’s waist.

When it showed its refusal by fiercely opening its beak, several of them burst into tears in surprise.

"You shouldn’t do that, Bize. Be good."

At the playful scolding, Bize clacked its beak as if snorting, then lowered its head and properly accepted the children’s touches.

After lightly stroking Bize’s head, Turan shared some of his travel experiences with the villagers, appropriately embellished.

From the Sky Mountains at the western edge, stories of sailing the northern sea, the rocky mountains of the Grey Zone, the endlessly abundant Dakein Plains, to the cities of the forest region now devastated but once full of huge trees...

Having received such requests several times when blending into nearby villages pretending to be a commoner, Turan had become quite a convincing storyteller.

A middle-aged man who had been quietly listening spoke up.

"Come to think of it, I heard before that if you go straight east from here there’s a sea—is that what you’re talking about?"

"No, that’s the South Sea. Where I went was the North Sea... You can think of it roughly like this."

Since people who had lived their whole lives around the village were confused, Turan drew a simple map showing the locations of various regions he had seen while traveling, based on information Keorn had briefly shared before.

Though it was a mess in terms of land sizes, latitude and longitude since he hadn’t properly measured while traveling, it was at least recognizable which regions were connected where.

"Ohhh, is this...?"

"This is where we live? It’s so small."

"Young friend, you’ve been to all those places? It wouldn’t be enough even walking for years!"

"What’s beyond those mountains?"

Looking at the map that wealthy merchants would want to pay good money for, the villagers happily discussed places they had never been.

==

The next morning, in return for enriching the village with his stories, Turan received clothes worn by the locals and a pair of shoes.

The clothes were made of a loose and tough material that didn’t easily wear out and allowed good airflow, with arms and legs cut off halfway.

In contrast, the shoes were about twice as thick as ordinary leather shoes and came up above the ankle, with the outer surface covered in an unidentifiable whitish substance.

This was sap applied from trees growing nearby that prevented water from seeping in, they said.

"If it doesn’t leak water, it would be perfect for boats."

"People actually buy it for that purpose. But be careful with fire! It catches quickly with even small sparks."

After changing clothes, Turan left the village and walked along the path people had shown him.

The clothing they gave him was certainly much more comfortable to move in.

Even with a noble’s sturdy body, wet clothes sticking to you or water seeping into shoes and getting soggy was equally unpleasant.

Of course, the difference was whether one suffered from colds and various other diseases.

Perhaps bored of hanging at his side, Bize left Turan’s waist to fly around the area a few times before catching a wild boar.

Even for a magical beast, it was truly amazing to see it carrying prey that seemed about a hundred times its own body weight.

"You’ll get hunted again wandering alone like that."

At Turan’s joke, Bize chirped with a dissatisfied expression and bumped his side with its head.

Anyway, thanks to this they could have wild boar stew cooked in the local style for lunch.

After finishing the meal while enjoying the crunchy texture of fat unlike farm-raised pork, they walked another hour before reaching a city.

This place was called Slop.

Unlike other regions, the boundary was marked with wooden palisades rather than stone walls, presumably due to the soft ground characteristic of the area.

Even this area was dry enough for a city to be built, yet the ground was strangely soggy.

"Hmm? Hey! That’s... doesn’t look like a crow, what kind of bird is it? Could it be a magical beast?"

"It’s called a black eagle, not a magical beast but just a well-trained bird. It won’t hurt people."

"Hmm..."

As expected, bringing Bize into the city was too eye-catching.

The police officer showed a somewhat suspicious expression before finally letting Turan pass after he handed over two copper coins.

"It’s okay."

When Bize chirped with a somewhat dejected expression, Turan comforted it by patting its back.

Shortly after, while moving toward the commercial district lined with shops to find suitable lodging as usual, something strange caught his eye.

A black pillar standing in the middle of the area lined with various shops.

Approaching closer, he could see characters clearly carved using magic, specifically earth manipulation techniques.

[Ishiel Labitas, master of Labitas, guardian of the Siraf Wetlands, mother to all injured and sick, has departed this world, called by the celestial gods.]

[Her sons and daughters shall pay respects before this pillar.]

Several passing people could be seen bowing at the waist before this memorial pillar.

After briefly looking around this, Turan moved his gaze to the final part of the memorial.

[Written in the name of Barken Kraft, lord of Slop.]

Apparently this city was ruled by a house named Kraft.

But somehow that name felt strangely familiar.