Turan awakened to magical power eight years ago, in the winter of his tenth year.
While his mother was out with the sheep, he thought about lighting a fire, and suddenly the stove burst into flames.
Before long, Turan discovered he could do many extraordinary things just by thinking about them.
Lifting objects, starting fires, commanding the wind, and even creating invisible walls...
'Mom, look at this! The firewood is flying!'
That evening, Turan showed off his abilities to his mother when she returned home with the sheep and the sheepdog.
His mother neither marveled at nor rejoiced in her son's abilities.
She merely caught the floating firewood with an expression mixing resignation and despair.
'Turan, let's make a promise. That you won't use that power recklessly from now on. Especially never in front of other people.'
'Why?'
While Turan was always a good boy who listened well to his mother, he couldn't help but protest against being told to suppress such fascinating and fun powers.
His mother gave him a cup of warm sheep's milk and for the first time told him about the world far below.
'Down below the hill, there are people called nobles.'
According to his mother, nobles were descendants of the Prea deities who descended to the world long ago to save humanity.
Born with powerful magical abilities inherited from their ancestors, they ruled as both rulers and protectors of humans.
Those born after several generations of mixing with ordinary humans were called knights, and while they were born with magical powers like nobles, they were used as servants because their powers were weaker.
His mother said that Turan had inherited a knight's power from his father, and that if he went down below the mountain, evil nobles would capture him and use him however they pleased.
'If nobles are like shepherds like us, then knights are like the dogs the shepherd raises. Sometimes they might treat them like family and cherish them... but if necessary, they can be sold off or sacrificed at any time.'
The nobles fought endlessly among themselves to gain even more despite having everything, and in the process, it was mostly their subordinate knights who were sacrificed.
Just like how a shepherd sends their sheepdog to fight wolves instead of confronting them directly, while throwing stones from behind.
Her face as she explained this held a futility that Turan had never seen before in his life.
'Turan, don't you want to live with mom for a long, long time?'
'Yes.'
'Then you must hide that power. Otherwise, bad nobles will come and take you away. We'll never be able to see each other again.'
'I understand, I'll absolutely never use it in front of others!'
It had been eight years since making that proud promise.
Even after his mother fell ill and died, Turan continued living as a shepherd on one side of Hisaril Hill.
To avoid the nobles who might come looking for him someday, to avoid becoming their sheepdog.
==
"What idiots."
Turan frowned as he closed the door of his cottage.
Early in the morning before the sun had even risen, village youths had come in a group to interrogate him about Labus's death from a few days ago.
Though it was clearly evident that he had been attacked by a leopard Masu, they tried to pin an unfounded accusation on Turan, claiming he must have killed the old man and thrown him as food to the Masu.
It wasn't hard to guess why they were doing this.
After all, an elderly man had gone out and been sacrificed while young men stayed behind.
Before they could be blamed for the old man's death due to their laziness and cowardice, they were clearly trying to use Turan to distribute the responsibility that would fall on them.
Of course, Turan thoroughly beat up and drove away the village youths who had come to pick a fight.
They would probably try to get revenge the next time he went down to the village for barter, either by lowering prices or tampering with goods using this incident as an excuse.
Then Turan would beat some sense into a few more villagers until they agreed to fair trade.
This had already happened several times before, and it was a tiresome cycle that would likely continue.
Lost in such thoughts for a moment, suddenly someone knocked loudly on the door from outside.
Turan heaved a deep sigh before opening the door with a growl.
"Who the hell is it now? Do you really want to die?"
Surely they couldn't have forgotten the lesson from just earlier, or were they really that stupid?
But unexpectedly, it wasn't one of the village youths from before beyond the door.
A man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties, wearing a dust-covered cloak, spoke with an awkward expression.
"Ah... excuse me, young friend. I'm traveling and was wondering if I could impose on you for a bit, but it seems I've come at a bad time."
A traveler - in his eighteen years of life, this was the first time Turan had encountered such a being.
He couldn't believe there was someone leisurely enough to travel to such a rural place with absolutely nothing to see.
After freezing stiffly for a moment, Turan immediately stepped aside from the door to make way.
"No, not at all. Please come in. Some unpleasant people just left earlier."
The polite speech he had learned from his mother for addressing elders felt quite awkward on his tongue.
When was the last time he had spoken like this?
It must have been quite a while ago, before he learned that Labus and all the village elders were bastards.
"Then excuse me."
Though it would have been more appropriate to chase away an unidentified visitor if he wanted to keep his identity hidden, Turan decided to accept him.
He wanted to have a conversation without hostility with anyone, for a change.
Besides, if the other party turned out to be a villain with ill intentions, he was confident he could deal with them.
"Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Not yet."
"I haven't either, so let's eat together."
After seating the traveler at the table, Turan brought out freshly squeezed sheep's milk and cheese, porridge made from dried grains from the village, a chunk of rock salt, and dried mutton jerky.
Unless one was on the verge of starvation, one should treat guests with the utmost hospitality, and then guests wouldn't dare think of harming their host.
This too was etiquette learned from his mother.
"This is such a poor area, so I don't have much to offer."
"What are you saying! This is a feast. I'm grateful to eat it."
It didn't seem like mere courtesy - the man devoured the food Turan had served as if he hadn't eaten for days.
Even while doing so, unlike the villagers, he showed quite proper table manners.
Not talking while chewing, slightly turning his head when drinking something...
The traveler seemed to have a similar impression, as he put down his cup of sheep's milk and offered Turan a compliment.
"You know basic table manners, I see. You must have been properly taught by your parents."
"I learned from my mother."
Sensing something from the fact that he didn't mention his father, the traveler hesitated briefly before continuing.
"Is she in the village then? Looking at the house, it doesn't seem like anyone else lives here."
He must have already noticed there was only one set of bedding in the house.
Turan nodded and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
"She passed away from illness a few years ago."
The traveler briefly showed a dismayed expression before making the sign of the cross with one hand and bowing his head.
It was a gesture Turan had never seen in his life.
"My condolences. Having raised such a fine young man, she must surely be dwelling in the celestial palace with the gods."
"I hope so too."
Around the time he lost his mother, just thinking about it would make him lose his appetite and cry all day.
Was being able to mention it with an outward smile a sign of becoming an adult, or had his mother's presence in his heart faded with time?
Trying to dispel his rapidly darkening mood, Turan forcibly changed the subject.
"By the way, what brings you to travel to such a remote place?"
"I was passing through a nearby city by chance when an old man was looking for a wizard to deal with a leopard Masu that had appeared in his village. After hearing the story, I came to eliminate it. I'm quite confident in fighting."
"By yourself?"
A middle-aged man nearly bent with age, and without even weapons, was planning to charge in?
Seeing Turan's surprised expression, the traveler gave a sheepish smile.
"I'm a knight. I served the Arabion house for sixty years. I can handle ordinary Masu well enough."
The moment he heard the word knight, Turan's eyes widened and every muscle in his body tensed.
A being he had only heard about from his mother, a noble's henchman...
After a moment of tension, Turan slowly relaxed as he realized there was no hostility in the other's gaze.
"Why the reaction?"
"It's my first time seeing a wizard... besides, you don't look like someone who's worked for sixty years at all."
"Wizards age more slowly and live longer than ordinary people. I'm seventy-five this year. This is just because I'm a knight - they say powerful nobles easily live two to three hundred years."
Hearing this fact for the first time, Turan observed his fellow kind with fascination.
On the surface, it was hard to find any difference from ordinary people.
If he had to compare, perhaps that he was well-built and his face had a healthy complexion...
In other words, one couldn't tell someone was a wizard just by looking at them.
This was extremely important information.
Even if Turan stood in the middle of a city full of people, no one would know his identity as long as he didn't use noticeable magic.
Just knowing this fact made him feel like a chain around his chest had loosened one loop.
"Wizards really are amazing."
"Amazing? Not at all! I think people like you are more amazing. Living in such a dangerous place where Masu appear without even using magical power? I couldn't even dream of doing such a thing."
Contrary to his thinking, this was the first time a threatening Masu had appeared in this area.
That is, since Turan was born.
If that hadn't been the case, no matter how remarkable his mother was, she couldn't have worked as a shepherd alone in this place.
In fact, the woman who raised a child alone on this desolate hill without even magical power was truly worthy of praise.
"Come to think of it, we haven't even introduced ourselves properly. My name is Keorn. Keorn of Arabion- no, I suppose I shouldn't call myself that anymore. Just Wanderer Keorn. And you?"
"I'm Turan. The only shepherd of Hisaril Hill."
"A fine name."
"But earlier you said you 'served' the house - does that mean you're not with them anymore?"
"I formally ended my vassal contract a month ago. The house said they would take care of me until I died of old age if I wanted... but in my later years, I wanted to travel here and there. I'd been bound to one house since being hired at fifteen, after all."
"Don't other houses try to capture you?"
"Why would they bother? I'm not some highly accomplished knight with great achievements, nor a talented youth. What use would they have for an old dog who'd just eat up food?"
Even as he deprecatingly called himself an old dog, his face couldn't hide an underlying pride and composure.
Though he had only heard that nobles were arrogant and cruel predators and knights were their emotionless hunting dogs...
Keorn seemed more relaxed and cheerful than any adult he had ever met.
After finishing the pleasant meal, Keorn stood up and placed a small silver coin on the table.
The face was engraved with the image of some handsome man he didn't recognize.
"It's an Arabion silver coin. The highest purity among silver coins. If you trade it in the village, it should be more than enough for the meal. Though prices seem quite high in this neighborhood."
Keorn grumbled that this damned village even tried to overcharge people who came to help them, but given his experience with the villagers' character, it wasn't particularly surprising.
Turan pocketed the silver coin and bowed politely.
"I hope your hunt goes smoothly."
"Don't treat me like someone you'll never see again. I might come back for more meals!"