Under the Oak Tree - Chapter 204
Chapter 204: Side Story Chapter 10
The mage snapped out of his trance as though doused with cold water.
“W-Wait!” he cried, snatching up the coins.
Riftan turned, his face impassive.
The mage glanced nervously to the side. “Y-You’ve yet to receive treatment. Please, sit for a moment. Allow me to heal you.”
Riftan had absolutely no intention of letting this quack magically heal him. He was about to curtly decline when he noticed their surroundings. The other mercenaries hovered close by. It was not a huge leap to assume that a few of the more money-hungry ones might ambush the young mage and his freshly earned bag of gold coins.
After studying the mercenaries’ faces, Riftan looked further afield, where the viscount was preoccupied with the wyvern carcasses. There was no telling when the man might change his mind and demand his money back. Though bruises were the worst of Riftan’s injuries, he thought a little healing would be prudent.
“All right,” Riftan said, nodding. “I accept your offer.”
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The mage let out a relieved sigh and pointed to a boulder. “Come, sit over here.”
Riftan shoved the pouch with his remaining gold coins into his bag and sank onto the stone. As soon as he was seated, the mage began to cast healing and restorative magic over him.
A lukewarm heat flowed through him, making him scratch his neck. Though he had experienced magical healing before, he always found this sensation of a foreign energy seeping into his bones unpleasant. Soon, his body felt much lighter.
“You have my utmost gratitude,” he said, stretching a few times before getting up.
With that overly formal expression of appreciation out of the way, he went to leave. He did not make it far. The mage flung out his hand, which was surprisingly slender for a man, and clutched Riftan’s trouser leg.
“What now?” Riftan said, irritably cocking a brow.
“W-Where are you going?
“And why would I-” he cut short his icy retort with a sigh. He did not have the energy to stand here bickering. “Where do you think? To harvest the wyvern carcasses. My job isn’t over yet.”
He stuck out his chin in the direction of the mercenaries, who were setting up the tools required for dissecting monster bodies. As if only just realizing there was more work to do, the mage blinked and released his grip. Again, Riftan thought the young man really must be soft in the head.
With a light click of his tongue, he began walking over to the mercenaries. The dopey mage kept close behind him. His patience wearing thin, he shot the mage a menacing glare.
“Why are you following me?”
“B-Because…” the young man faltered before raising his chin and forging on. “I’m an assisting mage, aren’t I? I’ve accepted my fee, so it’s my duty to provide support until the job is complete.”
“There’s no need for that. You may return to your group.”
After summarily rebuffing the mage, Riftan strode toward the baggage wagon. The mage hastily stopped him.
“If I return to them now, they’ll rob me for sure!”
Riftan knitted his brows. The young man was not as dopey as he had thought; he had evidently grasped at least that much of the situation.
Like a chick following a hen, the mage stuck close to Riftan while warily eyeing their surroundings. The sight reminded Riftan of himself when he had first joined the mercenary company. This young man must have been through his fair share of trials. Even so, he was under no obligation to protect a stranger.
“And how does that concern me?” Riftan said with a snort. “You’re a mage. Use your magic.”
“I can’t use magic to attack people! And frankly, you brought this on by tossing gold at me in front of everyone! What if I get targeted and end up a corpse in the forest? Will you take responsibility then?”
Even Riftan, who was rarely perturbed by anything, found the mage’s audacity astounding. All he had done was show a bit of kindness. Was he supposed to put up with this accusatory attitude?
Riftan scowled. “If you don’t want it, then give it back!”
The mage had been practically toe to toe with him, and he leaped away at Riftan’s outburst. He clutched the coin purse with both hands, an incredulous look on his face. Riftan glowered at him and turned away.
The mage trailed after him. “What I meant was, I would feel safer with you around. No one would dare come after me.”
Riftan kept marching.
“And you won’t be losing out either. A mage can be useful in many ways. I can move heavy objects with magic, as you witnessed earlier. I can replenish your energy if you get tired or heal you if you get injured. Don’t you think it would be a mutually beneficial agreement?”
Still silent, Riftan stooped to retrieve the tools from the wagon. The instruments had thankfully been spared from the wyvern’s rampage. He pulled out a pair of iron tongs for skinning and a bone saw as big as he was for hacking off joints.
The other mercenaries had finished assembling their retractors and were already draining the blood from the carcasses. Samon was one of the men in the group. Riftan’s eyes practically set ablaze as soon as he spotted the mercenary. As if sensing the hot gaze burning into his skull, Samon swiveled to show more of his back and began edging away, pretending to be absorbed in work.
Riftan gritted his teeth and dragged the bone saw to a wyvern carcass. As he mulled over the various things he could do to teach Samon a lesson, the gray-haired mage came up behind him.
“Come to think of it, I’ve yet to introduce myself. My name is Ruth Serbel, but you may call me Ruth. I’ve heard the others call you Calypse… May I also address you as such?”
When Riftan responded with a clenched jaw, the mage flinched and let out an awkward laugh.
“Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself! How presumptuous of me. I shall address you respectfully as Master Calypse.”
Riftan stared at the plucky young man. Was this the same runt who had been trembling in terror earlier? It suddenly felt as though a troublesome tumor had latched itself onto him, and he shuddered.
***
Harvesting the wyvern carcasses took longer than expected because of the raid party’s reduced number. It took half a day to drain the blood and skin them, and another to extract all the bones.
The whole time, the mage Ruth never left Riftan’s side. Riftan had long since given up on shaking him off. Every time he tried to sneak away, Ruth would shrill like a siren in a rut.
The young man was a bundle of nerves, constantly worried about his gold being snatched if he were to let his guard down for even a moment. As the days wore on, the shadows beneath his eyes grew darker, and his already pale face became haggard. At one point, Riftan began to wonder if the mage would have been better off without the money.
Depending on the type of commission, mages often earned far more than fifteen gold coins. Why on earth was this one panicking over this relatively measly amount? Riftan concluded that the young mage had probably been exploited in the past by less than savory folk. Yet, for some reason, Ruth seemed to be of the opinion that Riftan would protect him.
He found the mage’s presumption laughable but decided to let things be until the job was over. Ruth’s concerns were not completely baseless; Riftan himself had felt the mercenaries’ sinister glances on numerous occasions.
I wouldn’t call him reliable, but I guess he’s better than nothing.
The mage’s presence at least allayed any fear of an ambush, meaning Riftan did not have to sleep with one eye open or avoid relieving himself. Unfortunately, the result of this one light decision was disastrous.
It was the final day of the hunt. With the commission finally over, Riftan was climbing onto the baggage wagon when the mage attempted to follow suit.
Riftan clenched his jaw. “Enough is enough. When will you stop following me?”
“You know as well as I do the risk is higher on the journey back! I wager they’re waiting to attack me in the forest as we speak!”
Biting back obscenities, Riftan gazed at Ruth, who was trembling as though he were having a nervous breakdown. Though it pained him to admit it, the mage’s fears were not unfounded. An ambush was more likely in a dense forest than at a campsite.
“Fine, but you’re getting off as soon as we’re out of the forest.”
“I also don’t own a horse. I already acquired permission to ride on the wagon until we reach Golden Sand.”
Riftan, who had been reluctantly making room for the mage, froze. When he slowly turned with a glare, the mage puffed up his chest and declared proudly, “I am now a member of the Blackhorn Dragons. I asked that man over there, and he said a mage is always welcome.”
Riftan looked to where the mage pointed and saw Samon mounting his horse.
That goddamned bastard again.
As Riftan gritted his teeth, the mage climbed onto the wagon and settled opposite him. He barely managed to resist the urge to kick the runt out. Mages were valuable assets, and Riftan knew he did not have the authority to block such an individual from joining the company. Practically speaking, Samon had made the right decision.
It did not mean, however, that he had to put up with this runt clinging to him like a leech.
Riftan crossed his arms and said in a low voice, “You are free to join the company, but don’t expect me to look after you. I’ll slit your throat if you ever get in my way.”
Genuine fear crossed the mage’s face. He hunched his shoulders and said indignantly, “By God, when did I ask you to look after me? Don’t worry, I won’t be a nuisance. I’m confident you won’t find a more capable mage in the entire Western Continent.”
Riftan let out an incredulous laugh. “What grand claims you make after that disaster with the wyverns. We wouldn’t have suffered such severe casualties if your sleep spell hadn’t been so lousy.”
“Th-That’s because… real life is different from theory.” The mage’s expression grew dark as he sighed. “For decades, I studied magic cooped up in a tower, namely healing and restorative magic. It’s been less than six months since I started putting my knowledge into practice. As for the sleep spell… I’ve only tried it once during a drake raid. I had no idea a wyvern’s magic negation was that powerful. But, I swear, I will never make the same mistake again.”
Riftan snorted. How could this young man have studied in a tower for decades when he did not look a day older than twenty? The runt was clearly full of hot air.
“Then prove it. Words mean nothing.”
Ruth pressed his lips together, evidently unable to come up with a retort. Riftan leaned back against the wagon’s canvas and closed his eyes. Though he had goaded the mage to prove his skills, he intended to steer clear of him as much as possible.
While magic was incredibly convenient, personally, he would rather do without such an unreliable power. There was nothing more troublesome than a plan gone awry. Once again, Riftan resolved never to trust this quack and his bluffing.
Paying no heed to Riftan’s resolve to be alone, Ruth continued to shadow him. He tagged along to all of his commissions and boarded in the adjacent room at every inn. Riftan quickly realized the rascal was trying to use him as his personal guard whenever he found himself in a pinch.
What Riftan found most maddening was the rumor that had spread among the men about him having the mage’s back. Thanks to that, Ruth was able to assimilate into the mercenary company without a hitch.
