Chapter 256
Side Story 6 - Turan Zahar (1)
A few months after the war with Aravion ended.
By the time the House Zahar army finally reached the capital, Axum, the citizens welcomed them with cheers, proclaiming victory in the war.
Considering that far to the north, Aravion, their opponent, was likewise claiming the win for itself, it could only be called a farce.
When at last they entered the Red Fortress and began to disperse, the members who had stayed behind to welcome their returning kin realized that their Family Head had a newborn infant with him.
The bravest among them cautiously ventured a question.
"Er, Family Head-nim. That baby is......."
"Karim's son. His name is Turan, I'm told."
"I, I see."
Those who had remained in the family watched the scene with bewilderment.
It was because the sight of the Family Head, who had never embraced even his own children that way, doting so attentively on his nephew's son, the Eldest Grandson of the Main Line, was simply far too unfamiliar.
And was not even Talis, who could rightfully be called the child's actual grandfather, standing behind them and watching with a rather sour expression?
But compared to what the Family Head said next, the bewilderment they had felt before hardly deserved to be called bewilderment at all.
"From this day forward, I will take this child as my Adopted Son."
"What!?"
"Family Head-nim, that's-"
At Haroon Zahar's bombshell announcement, the gathering held in welcome instantly descended into chaos.
Because, given the nature of a Wizard family in which the position of Family Head was determined not by bloodline but by ability, the Family Head's Adopted Son was as good as the Heir.
It meant this was hardly a position to be granted to a newborn who had not even awakened his Magic Power yet.
But to those who raised such objections, Haroon replied firmly, his face devoid of expression.
"Anyone with a grievance may come and see me later, in private."
There was not a single one among House Zahar's senior members dim enough to miss the meaning packed into those words.
Anyone who actually went to him to protest would likely have to bear the Family Head's wrath then and there.
After the Family Head left, they flocked, for lack of a better option, to Talis, a man who actually held power and would at least listen to reason, and who happened to be the Family Head's younger brother.
"Talis-nim, what on earth is going on?"
"I simply cannot understand the Family Head's intentions!"
"Now, now, everyone calm down. I know it's bewildering, but it seems the Family Head has taken quite a liking to that child. As for me, I've suddenly had my grandson snatched away, so I'm in an awkward spot myself."
At that, those who had been about to argue something to the effect of 'how could a mere child of that coward Karim possibly be fit to be the Family Head's Adopted Son' hastily shut their mouths.
It was because they had only then remembered that this Karim was, personally speaking, Talis's own son.
Though he usually wore such an easy smile, Talis too, as befit a Zahar Noble, was a man who could turn as cold and cruel as needed when the occasion called for it.
"Well, don't fret too much. Like I said, he's still just a child, isn't he? Once he's a bit older and it's confirmed he hasn't much potential, the Family Head will change his mind too."
"Hmm."
"That's certainly true."
However much he was Talis's grandson, his father Karim was a low-ranking Noble to begin with, and from what they heard, his mother, who had died of childbed fever after giving birth, had been a Flower of common birth abducted from Aravion. [TL note. A "Flower" is a person bred and raised specifically to serve as a concubine for nobles.]
The degree to which Magic Power was inherited was something like height, so nothing could be said for certain, but the chance of a Noble powerful enough to threaten the Heirs being born between a weak Noble and a commoner was next to none.
And so Turan Zahar entered House Zahar, quite literally, like a storm.
*
The place where young Turan grew up was the Family Head's residence, the deepest and highest point of the Red Fortress, House Zahar's stronghold.
It was astonishing, considering that Haroon had always hated the sound of a baby fussing and had cast out even his own children from infancy, raising them in the hands of Concubines and Wet Nurses.
Going even further, Haroon would change Turan's diapers himself, rock him to soothe him to sleep, and even play with him.
When this rumor quietly spread, the Zahar Nobles fell into confusion once more.
"What in the world is his true identity?"
"Could it be that Karim was actually the Family Head's child, not Talis-nim's......."
"If that were the case, he wouldn't have died like that on the battlefield in the first place. Besides, is the Family Head the sort of man who dotes on someone just because they're his child?"
"Fair point."
Why, even Rahmann, the Family Head's eldest son and the most likely candidate for Heir, had never received such treatment in his own childhood.
And so all sorts of rumors spread regarding Turan's true identity.
There was a rumor that he was an illegitimate child the Family Head had gotten from someone he truly loved, a rumor that he was in fact the abducted child of an Aravion Noble, and there even arose a bizarre, ludicrous rumor that he was some kind of experimental creation made from the gathered vengeful spirits of children of Zahar blood.
This was because, starting a few months before Turan was born, children of Zahar blood who had just been born or had not yet been born had suddenly begun to be stillborn or to die abruptly.
Unaware of such voices, Turan Zahar spent nine years in the Family Head's residence.
"Hup."
It was noon, the sun climbing high overhead.
Covered in dirt, Turan crawled out of the pit.
Escaping from home was not as easy a task as one might think.
Not only was the place fitted with all manner of defenses, the Barrier among them, but ordinarily his father, a mighty Wizard, was always present and in residence.
The reason Turan was able to escape this time was that his father happened to be away on urgent business, and the various protective devices did not act upon him, an insider.
That he had been patiently plotting his escape for a good while was a bonus.
"I'm out!"
Peering outside and shouting like a man who had just broken out of prison, Turan smiled brightly at the world he had spent his whole life gazing upon only from the rooftop, now unfolding right before his eyes.
His father had never allowed his son to leave the nest.
He would bring him every treasure he wished for and play along with any mischief he liked, yet going outside was the one thing he flatly refused.
Having been able to do whatever he wanted from the day he was born, the boy was not used to being denied, and no matter how he wailed and threw tantrums, it did no good.
Even when he beat the servants to vent his frustration, his father merely laughed it off and said, that's enough now, and nothing more.
But what kind of child would actually give up just because he was told no?
After desperately devising all sorts of plans, small head and all, today Turan had at last succeeded in leaving the residence for the very first time.
"Heheh......."
Brushing the dirt off his filthy clothes and coming down the hill, he looked around at his surroundings as if marveling at them.
The Red Fortress, which he was wandering for the first time in his life.
People he had never seen before bustled about everywhere, and lights meant to block Concealment Magic flashed on every side.
The people moving about paid little attention to Turan's presence.
Though Haroon had dressed the child in the finest clothes, now that they were soiled all over with dirt and dust, it was hard to tell just how luxurious they were.
And since there was no chance of a beggar wandering inside the Red Fortress, they simply assumed he was some household's child playing in the dirt and left it at that.
As the boy wandered for a good while amid everyone's indifference, a library came into view.
"A library......."
Turan loved reading books a great deal.
The sight of his father praising him each time he recited text clearly and brightly was a joy, but apart from that, he simply found pleasure in acquiring new knowledge.
The moment he stepped briskly inside, the Librarian, seeing the carpet being soiled by his muddy feet, frowned and blocked Turan's way.
"Little one, this is no place for children. You can't come in without a permit."
Judging by the dirt-covered clothes and the lack of any attendant, the Librarian guessed he was the child of some Knight or other, and spoke curtly.
It was a tone more than enough to anger a boy who, apart from going outside, had never once been refused anything until now.
"I don't need any permit. I'm going in."
"I said you can't."
"Papa said I can do whatever I want!"
At the child's characteristic tantrum, the Librarian heaved a heavy sigh and grabbed Turan again as he tried to barge in.
Nothing remarkable as far as skill went, but as a Zahar Knight in their own right, there was no way they couldn't restrain one small child.
"Let go of me! You bastard!"
"Where did you even learn such language, anyway, the answer's still no. Get your parents' permission and-"
"What's all this commotion?"
At that, the Librarian turned toward the voice from behind and put on a surprised expression.
A teenage girl with short dark-brown hair and pale lavender eyes was looking their way with a curious expression.
"Berit-nim."
"A kid I've never seen before?"
"I'm not quite sure who he is, but he's throwing a fit because he wants into the library, so, I'll have him out at once."
"I am a bit curious who he is, though. Hey, kid, what's your name?"
Turan narrowed his eyes at her question and answered.
"Turan."
"And your surname?"
"Zahar, obviously. This is House Zahar, isn't it?"
"Well, that's true. So we're relatives, then? I'm Berit Zahar. Nice to meet you."
Turan looked at the hand the girl held out and then said, as if spitting the words out.
"Never mind that, just let me into the library."
"You like books?"
"Yeah."
"What are your parents' names, by any chance? My father's name is Rahmann."
"My papa's name is Family Head."
"What?"
"Everyone calls my papa Family Head-nim."
At those words, Berit realized who he was, and her face stiffened.
"Ah, don't tell me......you're the Family Head's Adopted Son?"
"You know me?"
"Of course I do. More people know about you than you'd think."
The story that the Zahar Family Head, returning after the war, had abruptly taken his own Eldest Grandson of the Main Line as his Adopted Son was known to everyone who would be in a position to know.
Much less would she, the Family Head's granddaughter, fail to know it.
Come to think of it, she should have realized the moment she heard the name Turan; the trouble was she had never imagined he would be here.
Berit felt her mood twist sour at the sight of Turan looking up at her with those bright, clear eyes.
'The position I longed for so desperately, taken on a whim by some brat who's accomplished nothing at all.'
Born with a fierce lust for power from a young age, she harbored an inner inferiority complex over the fact that her own talents fell short of inheriting the position of Family Head.
Realistically there was no chance of her inheriting the Family Head's seat, but she could not look kindly on Turan, who had so abruptly seized the seat of Heir.
"My papa is the Family Head?"
"To be precise, you should call him your great-uncle. Because you're an Adopted Son."
"What's an Adopted Son?"
"It means fake parents, not your real ones, who just promise to act like your parents."
Berit deliberately spoke words cruel enough to leave a scar on a child's heart.
At this, Turan's ash-gray eyes seemed to widen, then narrowed with hostility.
Berit, who had expected the little one to squeeze out some tears, was a little taken aback.
"Take it back."
"Take what back?"
"My papa isn't fake. Take it back!"
To Turan, his father was like the whole world.
The master of House Zahar where he lived, and the most powerful and greatest Wizard in the world.
For Turan, who had lived from a young age taking pride in being the son of such a being, Berit's attitude in calling him a fake son was, quite simply, like striking the one nerve that should never be touched.
Realizing she had succeeded in getting under the skin of her young second cousin, Berit smiled and bent at the waist to meet Turan at eye level.
Naturally, this was to maximize the effect of her mockery.
"But it's the truth, isn't it? Your real father and mother are someone else entirely. They're both dead now, though......argh!"
Her eyes half shut from laughing, she screamed at the sudden surge of excruciating pain.
From her forehead, down across her eye, to her cheek and jaw.
A horrifically searing heat and pain struck nearly half her face.
Through her obscured vision came the Librarian's near-scream of a shout.
"Wh, what are you doing?! Get over here!"
Clutching her face as blood streamed down it and stepping back, Berit could finally see what it was that had attacked her.
A blood-smeared Dagger, gripped in the hand of the boy who thrashed in the Librarian's hold.
It had torn to shreds the face she'd brought in so defenselessly close.
'But how on earth......?'
For a child who hadn't even awakened his Magic Power yet to leave a blade's mark on the face of a Noble like her, young and inexperienced though she was, should have been utterly impossible.
But if he were holding a powerful Magic Artifact, or a Sacred Relic, that was a slightly different story.
And anything held by Turan, the Family Head's Adopted Son, would naturally be the sort of item capable of just that.
As her slowly turning mind grasped the situation, Berit's face twisted like a demon's.
"How dare this little brat!"
The moment she thought she mustn't kill him but would give him a thorough thrashing, someone seized her hand.
"Stop."
"Ngh, what......."
"By the Family Head's command, I am protecting Turan-nim. Stand down."
Berit realized that the one who had stepped in to block her was her father's cousin, Aril Zahar.
She was also Turan's aunt.
"So you're shielding him right now just because he's your nephew?"
"Watch your tongue. Turan-nim is not my nephew but the Family Head's son. You wouldn't be defying his will right now, would you?"
"Ngh......."
At the sound argument she could hardly refute, Berit bit down hard on her lip.
However much she was the Family Head's granddaughter, the other woman was the Family Head's niece as well as one of the powerful Nobles, so even in terms of rank it was hard to talk back to her.
And it was also true that taking Turan as a son had been the Family Head's will.
"Just you wait."
For now, she would at least have to treat her face quickly, before it scarred.
Aril watched Berit flee in a hurry, then turned her gaze to Turan and spoke.
"Let's head back now, Turan-nim."
"I want to read books in the library."
"The Family Head will be angry."
Since the war, Aril had taken up a post as the Family Head's guard, and in that work she had also taken on the role of attendant raising Turan.
Naturally, she had secretly watched this adorable little escape from behind as well.
She had simply pretended not to see, because he wanted so badly to go out.
Had she known something like this would happen, she would not have.
Turan glared wide-eyed at her words as he had moments before, but soon hung his head limply.
"Fine."
He had never once seen his father angry, but for that very reason it frightened him.
After all, was it not human nature to both yearn for and dread the unknown?
And so, a few hours after his first escape came to an end.
Turan, who had been playing after washing the dirt off his body, had to receive an unexpected visitor.
"So you're the one who put a blade's mark on my daughter's face?"
Rahmann Zahar.
This man, the stepbrother Turan had never once seen and, in actual fact, his first cousin once removed, glared down at Turan with big, fierce eyes.
It wasn't as though he particularly cherished his daughter, but a blade's mark on her face was a slightly different matter.
What's more, as it turned out later, the thing that had made that mark was one of the precious Sacred Relics, and because of the magical effect contained within it, it had very nearly left a great scar that would be difficult to heal.
So he had come to take the boy to task, but Turan responded with an attitude that said, so what of it?
"I let her off easy this time. Next time I really won't let it slide."
"So you've no intention of apologizing at all, is that it? I'd meant to settle this with words if I could, but it seems I've no choice but to teach my little brother a lesson, as his elder brother."
When Rahmann seized Turan, the boy shrieked, but the servants of the Family Head's residence could not easily intervene.
However cherished an Adopted Son he was to the Family Head, the other party was the Family Head's own blood, one of the leading candidates for Heir, was he not?
Rahmann then took firm hold of the squirming Turan, bared his backside, and struck it again and again with his hand.
With his brute strength, the flesh should naturally have burst, or rather his whole lower body should have been blown clean off, but since he had moderated the force appropriately, it went no further than the skin flushing bright red.
Even as he bawled his eyes out, Turan filled both eyes with hostility and shouted.
"I'll kill you! You and that girl both!"
"Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet."
After that, Rahmann kept striking his backside again and again, trying to break the boy's spirit.
But this vicious boy gritted his teeth even as bruises welled up and the flesh split on his backside, and never once submitted.
Just as he was wondering what on earth to do with this brat, an eerie voice came from behind.
"Let go of him this instant, Rahmann."
Turning around, Rahmann shuddered in spite of himself at his father's face, a face he was seeing for the first time in his life.
The expression of the Zahar Family Head, Haroon, as he looked at him, was truly that of a demon.
"Family Head-nim? That's-ngh!"
Before he could even make an excuse, Rahmann's arm was severed and blood spurted up like a fountain.
It was the effect of a Hidden Weapon, flicked away lightly with a gesture of the hand.
Naturally, Turan, who was being held in his arms in the middle of his spanking, was drenched in it too.
Ignoring his own son, who staggered back in a panic with his arm cut off, Haroon carefully gathered his Adopted Son into his arms.
"You've gotten something filthy on you. Are you all right, my son?"
"It hurts......."
"I'll call for a healer. Before that, we'll need to get you washed up."
Haroon, who had been stroking the child with the utmost tenderness, turned his head and glared at Rahmann.
With an expression as if facing not his son but an enemy.
"Get out of my sight, Rahmann. I'll hear your excuses another time."
Watching Rahmann, trembling with terror and humiliation, pick up his severed arm and withdraw, young Turan realized something.
That his father treasured him more than that thug who had called himself his elder brother.
Brimming with a fullness that welled up in his heart, the boy clung tightly to the firm forearms wrapped around him.
*****
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