Chapter 9: Assistant

The outer room was filled with a tense atmosphere. The muscular young slave, looking anxious, stood aside, not even knowing where to put his hands. The treatment inside the room had reached its most critical stage, and any interruption could ruin everything. Under Komer’s medicinal treatment, the injured man lying on the bed seemed to have improved significantly, with his temperature also dropping considerably. Yet Komer knew this was merely superficial; without further treatment, these improvements would be short-lived.

White magic did not require much mental energy to cast, but that didn’t mean it was easy to learn. For priests or knights of the Light Faith, white magic was the simplest and easiest to master yet hardest to perfect. However, Komer seemed to defy this notion. The dark veins visible on his face made it hard to believe he was a magician using white magic to save lives—he looked more like a necromancer or dark mage borrowing power from the devil, with low, strange chants emerging from his mouth.

The middle-aged man lying on the bed stared at the somewhat gloomy young man before him with a strange gaze. His “nominal” master hadn’t evoked much emotion in him at first. There was no greater sorrow than a broken heart. Since Mycenae fell, he had no desire to live anymore. Everything had vanished; everything he once had became worthless—his warrior’s honor, the meaning of survival. After Mycenae was conquered and his parents, wife, and children died at the hands of those cruel orcs, nothing was left worth clinging to. What good was killing more orcs? Could it bring his parents, wife, and children back to life? Could it restore everything he once had?

It was only Bao Ling’s devoted care that made it seem impossible for him to die peacefully right away. Though this tall and strong-looking man was only seventeen, he had followed him for several years, acting like a father and master to him. Though brave in battle, he knew nothing about human relationships. Komer wondered if Bao Ling could survive in this world.

When the seemingly cold young man gave him an unknown potion, the middle-aged man was amazed by his skills. He had never seen a noble youth possess such knowledge in potion-making. From the medicinal aura emanating from him, he was certain the potion was prepared by the young man himself—a thing that seemed hard to imagine in the mortal world of the continent. Pharmacists seemed to be a profession reserved for the lower classes or certain special groups.

But this was just the beginning. As the melancholic youth applied strange pressure to squeeze the middle-aged man’s internal organs, he realized that this man actually resembled a knight with some special power. A pleasant sensation filled the middle-aged man’s heart until the other man scolded him, pulling him out of that pleasurable trance. White magic!
Lazy, as if bathed in holy light, magical energy flowed continuously from the other man as he recited spells. The middle-aged man was utterly stunned! He wasn’t an unworldly country bumpkin. Although the Duchy of Mellen didn’t have any outstanding magicians, as an important military commander in the duchy, he had encountered many magicians and spellcasters. He could say that none of them had ever shocked him as much as this one. The powerful magic filled him with awe despite his astonishment. To achieve such mastery at such a young age was simply astonishing! And it seemed he had never heard of such a young magician in the Duchy of Nicomedia!
However, when he noticed the blue tint and faint shadows on Komer’s closed eyes, he understood why such an exceptional magician remained unknown in the Duchy of Nicomedia, even unknown to those living in the Homer region around him. All the mysteries seemed to be solved!
Komer, slowly recovering from his fatigue, seemed to understand the astonishment on the middle-aged man’s face lying in bed. But he didn’t care. Since he had dared to save him without fear of exposure, he wasn’t worried about the other man revealing anything. From the other man’s indifferent appearance and the unyielding fire burning in his eyes, he seemed to see a reflection of himself, though the other man was much older.
“Alright, you still need some time to rest. Use this time to think carefully. Sometimes time can dilute everything, while other times it helps you understand the true nature of the world. Don’t rush to draw conclusions about many things.” Komer stood up, stretched his limbs, and before leaving, he gave a casual instruction to the tall youth whose gaze was fixed on the middle-aged man in bed: “Don’t let him move around. He needs to rest for a while.”
When Komer’s figure disappeared outside, he clearly heard a deep but firm voice behind him: “From now on, there will be no more Fran and Bao Ling of the Duchy of Mellen—only Fran and Bao Ling, servants of their master.”

With only two days left before departure, Komer, Puber, Ilot, and the others became busy. When Ilot saw the tall young man, Baoling, who had recovered and was now dressed in warrior attire, as well as the burly man, Fran, who had improved significantly, his mouth dropped open even wider than that of a hippopotamus. Just the day before, the two had been in poor condition, yet the tall young man’s wounds, including those on his collarbone, had already scabbed over. Aside from slight limitations in flexibility, Baoling’s performance was now no different from usual. Seeing him gracefully stretching his limbs in Komer’s backyard, wielding a heavy broadsword with ease—lifting, slashing, cutting, thrusting, and sweeping—Ilot couldn’t help but rub his eyes.

The burly man standing nearby still looked pale, but he no longer carried the gloom and depression he had shown when returning by carriage the previous day. Although a hint of melancholy still lingered on his face, his mental state was completely different from yesterday. After observing the tall young man practicing recovery exercises for a while, Ilot had to admit that, though his swordsmanship wasn’t outstanding, it was quite decent. It was a simple style that might not be very effective in single combat, but it was ideal for group battles. With his broad chest and long limbs, even despite the hardships endured in the slave camp, the young man’s vitality remained evident. Ilot rated him as a standard excellent soldier. He even considered asking Komer to hand him over, just to satisfy his desire to be a teacher—this guy truly had the potential to be trained!

Noticing the other man staring intently at his body as if he were an enthusiast admiring his prey, the simple-minded tall young man’s face turned red with embarrassment. He stopped awkwardly, turning his gaze toward the burly man standing nearby. A faint smile touched the burly man’s lips. He could tell that the other man was admiring the young man’s natural talent in martial arts, just as he recognized that this burly youth, who had gone to the slave camp with his master the previous day, also possessed remarkable fighting skills. Especially the soft belt sword tied around his waist was a very rare weapon—it required the user to have good control over internal energy; carelessness could even harm oneself.

“Bao Ling, keep practicing. Mr. Ilot wants to give you some guidance on your martial skills!” The words of the middle-aged man finally calmed the tall youth. Having come from a military background, he was accustomed to strictly following orders from his superiors. A series of simple sword movements—parrying, thrusting, pushing, blocking—were performed by the tall youth, creating gusts of wind. Although he didn’t have a shield, his strong sense of protection made Ilot realize that the infantry soldiers of the Principality of Mellen were indeed exceptionally skilled.

Ilot had already learned from Komer about the identity of this middle-aged man—he was the deputy commander of the Second Mantinean Infantry Regiment of the Principality of Mellen, a highly respected high-ranking warrior there—Fran Mish. Of course, the Principality of Mellen no longer existed, and Mantinea had become ruins. Its inhabitants were either slaves to orphans or living in exile across the continent. The lands of the entire principality were infested with orcs who roamed and plundered. Without the protection of a regular army, aside from slave traders who were constantly at war with the orcs, no one dared to live there.

Although Ilot considered his own martial skills quite proficient and had even fought face-to-face with orcs on the Deccan Plateau, he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could compare to someone who had once been a deputy regiment commander. Still, he felt that the youth before him was too reliant on conventional slashing and thrusting techniques, which might suffice in formal battles, but since he and Komer were heading to the Caucasus, passing through many wild areas along the way, they would face not only ordinary humans but also bandits and beasts, as well as many unpredictable emergencies. It was impossible to know whether creatures like demons might appear. As Komer said, what was needed now were warriors who could be immediately put to use in actual combat.

Noticing the slight frown on the other man’s face, the middle-aged man seemed to sense his thoughts and said calmly, “Bao Ling, practice individual combat tactics.”

Upon receiving the order, the tall youth immediately narrowed his steps to a defensive stance. His gaze also changed from the previous level stare, with his agile eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. His swordsmanship became fierce and aggressive. Only then did Ilot truly relax. The disciple trained by a deputy regiment commander was indeed extraordinary. He decided to put aside his desire to be a teacher and look for another opportunity.

Upon learning that his current master was actually a young man who had just reached adulthood and was already a titled lord, Fran was somewhat prepared, but he was still greatly surprised. However, when he heard that Komer’s fief was in the Caucasus, the man, who always maintained a noble and graceful demeanor, fell silent. It was then that Fran understood why this lord, who claimed to be abandoned by the gods, said such things. Yet the desire evident in the young lord’s tone still left Fran puzzled. Could this lord truly be an ignorant and fearless fool, unaware of the horrors of the Caucasus?