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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 208

Chapter 208

[Currently,‍‌ the Order of‍ the Red Turtle⁠‍ Knights is on⁠‌​ a mission. Therefore,‍⁠ we cannot dispatch​ them.]

Golden‍ Turtle Guild Branch​⁠ in Chelkin.

Upon⁠ arriving in the⁠​‍ viscounty of Chelkin,​ Fernan folded the‌‌​ letter handed to‌​‍ him by the‍​⁠ captain of the‌ Red Shell Order.‌‌‍

‘The⁠⁠​ future has changed.’‍‍‍

Originally,‍​‍ the Red Turtle‍⁠ Knights were supposed⁠ to be in‌‌‌ that location. The⁠​‍ mere fact that​⁠⁠ they were absent​‌ due to another‍‌‌ mission meant things⁠‌​ were no longer‍​‌ the same.

He⁠‍ didn’t know what⁠ had caused it.⁠​ So many things⁠‍ had changed, he‌ couldn’t pinpoint the‍⁠⁠ reason.

‘It‌ shouldn’t be a major problem.’

Nor‌‌ did he think‍‍ it was serious.​‌ The difference was‍ due to the‌​ fact that the‍ Red Turtle Order‌ had unusually exceptional‌‍‌ members, not because⁠ the knights were‌ weak.

‘Besides,‍‍ I have Professor​ Rosalia and Wooden.’‍‍

He‍​ himself had completely⁠​ changed after ingesting‌‍⁠ the Dragon Heart.‌

And‍‍‍ above all, this‍​‌ situation wasn’t that‍‍ different from what‌⁠​ he had seen​⁠ in the book‍⁠​ of prophecies.

‘Destroying⁠‍ the mithril itself​ isn’t much of​‌‍ a plan for‌‌ the demons.’

They⁠‌ hadn’t foreseen that‌ Aint would reach⁠ that place, and⁠‍‌ even with the‌ changes in the​⁠⁠ future, that likely​⁠‍ hadn’t changed.

“Long​⁠‍ time no see,‍‍‌ Lord Harten.”

“It’s​⁠ an honor to‍⁠ see you again,​‌ young master.”

The‍ captain of the​‍⁠ Red Turtle Order,​​‍ Harten, bowed his‌ head.

“Professor,​ it’s also a pleasure to see​ you again.”

“The​​ honor is mine.⁠‌ I leave our​‍‌ safety in your‌⁠‌ hands.”

After​​​ a day of​ rest, Fernan departed‍⁠ with Professor Rosalia⁠⁠ and the Red‌‌‍ Turtle Order toward‍​​ their destination.

Since⁠​ they traveled in‍ secret, they avoided‌‌ main routes and​ took lesser-used mountain‌​ paths, which made‌ the journey longer.​‍‍

“Let’s‍​ spend the night​​‍ here.”

In‍ the mountains, the​ sun set quickly.⁠‍‌ The group set‌ up camp in​​​ a mid-slope clearing.​​

“I’ll‍‌‍ go inside the​‌ tent for a bit, I have⁠‍ something to do.”⁠‌

After⁠ a light dinner,⁠‌⁠ Fernan retreated to⁠ his tent. He​‍ needed to recall‌⁠​ what he had​‌ seen in the⁠ book of prophecies‍​⁠ to pinpoint the‌ location as accurately‍⁠‍ as possible.

Rosalia‌‌⁠ remained seated by⁠​ the campfire.

The‌​ dark night, flames⁠ crackling between them,‍‍ the murmur of‍‌‍ insects.

Always‌⁠‍ caught up in‍​ research and training,‌⁠​ sometimes it wasn’t⁠ so bad to​⁠‌ get away like​⁠‌ this. Especially when‌ the goal was‍‌​ mithril.

“Did​​‌ you enjoy the​ dinner?”

Crack.‌

Harten⁠‍​ threw another log‍‍ into the fire‍ and sat across‍ from her.

“Yes,⁠‍ it was delicious.‍ Almost on par⁠ with the chefs‍ of noble houses.”​⁠

It​​​ was impossible that‍​​ there were chefs⁠​ here—they had come‌‌​ without attendants to​ move discreetly.

“I’m‍​ glad to hear‍‌​ that. One of⁠⁠‌ my men cooks​ quite well. Vandel!”‌​

“Yes,‍​‍ Captain!”

A knight sheathed his​‌ sword and approached.‍​

“The​‌‍ professor says your‌⁠ cooking is worthy⁠ of a chef.”⁠

“Really?​⁠ Wow, thank you!‍‌ It’s an honor!”​

Vandel⁠‍ laughed heartily, bowing⁠ his head.

“That’s​⁠ unusual. Knights usually⁠⁠ don’t like doing⁠​​ these kinds of⁠ things.”

“These⁠​ kinds of things?”‌

“Servant‍⁠​ work.”

It‌⁠ wasn’t that a knight couldn’t do⁠‌​ minor tasks, but‌ normally such things⁠‌ were left to‌​ servants or soldiers.⁠‌ It was rare‌​ to see one​ cooking.

“Normally,‍ we just bring⁠⁠ dried meat. But‍‍ when the young​ master comes with​⁠‌ us, it’s different.”⁠‍‍

Harten‌‌‌ smiled as he⁠ added more wood‍‍ to the fire.⁠⁠⁠

“You⁠​ seem to trust​⁠​ Fernan a lot.”​‍

“He’s‍ always been… special.”⁠

“Special?”⁠‍

“His⁠ obsession with money‍⁠ was so intense‍‍‍ even the Duke‍ got tired of⁠ it.”

“That‍‍ hasn’t changed.”

“True.”​

All⁠ Pellenbergs loved money,⁠​‌ but Fernan had⁠ a unique way⁠‌⁠ of it.

“Ten‍ years ago, on​‍⁠ his birthday, the‌‌⁠ Duke asked what⁠⁠ he wanted as‍⁠‍ a gift. Know​‍ what he said?”‍‍​

“Money?”‌​​

“Exactly.⁠ Money. And he‌‍ asked to be‍‍ given all his‌ future birthday gifts‌​‍ in advance.”

The‌ Duke agreed and‌ gave him a huge sum, even‍‌‍ though he was‌ just a child.‍​ Neither the one⁠ who asked nor‌ the one who‌⁠ agreed were ordinary‌‌ people.

“With‍​‍ that, he founded‍ the Golden Pillar.”‌‍

A personal organization for‍ intelligence and investment.‍‌⁠

“Ah,​‌ the Golden Pillar…”​‌⁠

“Yes.​⁠⁠ With that name,‌‍‍ he even invested‌⁠ in you, Professor.​‌ Though the real⁠‍‌ reason was to‍‌⁠ search for mines.”​

“Mines?”⁠⁠

“Since​‌ he was little,‌‌ he believed the‍‌⁠ earth was a hidden treasure. That’s⁠‍‍ why he studied​‌ earth magic, even‍‌ though he was‌ more talented in⁠‌ fire magic.”

“He​‌⁠ really learned earth​​‍ magic for that?”‍

“Excuse‍​‍ me.”

Rosalia‌⁠⁠ couldn’t help but​⁠ murmur. She knew​‌ Fernan was obsessed‍‍‍ with money, but⁠⁠‍ not to this​​⁠ extent.

“That’s‌⁠ right. The house’s⁠‍​ mages criticized him,⁠​ and even Lord‌ Durleo, the archmage⁠ of Pellenberg, insulted⁠​‌ him outright. And‍ Fernan replied, ‘I’m​ not a mage,⁠​ I’m a merchant.’”‍⁠

Duke‍​ Yvon had laughed‍⁠ heartily.

“With‌‍ that Golden Pillar,‌ he started operating.‌‍ But many of​​‍ those undiscovered mines‌⁠​ were monster dens.⁠‌ Every time it‍‍ happened, the young‍⁠ master paid the‌​‌ Duke for troops,‍‌‌ and we answered.”‍​

That⁠⁠ was how his‍​​ close relationship with⁠​ the Red Turtle⁠‌ Order began.

“He​ always treated us‌ well—top-tier potions, luxury‍⁠ food, sturdy tents.​​ And he also⁠‌ gave extra rewards.”​

Vandel,⁠⁠‍ listening in, chimed‍‌‌ in.

“I⁠ asked him once‌‍‌ if he wasn’t⁠⁠‍ spending too much.​⁠​ Know what he‌ said? Or rather,​‍ he asked us‍‌‍ a question—‘What is‍‍‌ money?’”

Rosalia‍ listened attentively.

“And‍ he answered himself:⁠ ‘Money is everything.‌ With it, you‍​‍ can buy anything​ and do anything.‍ Thanks to money,‌⁠ Pellenberg exists, and⁠ thanks to money,⁠⁠‍ I can treat‌⁠​ those who serve‌ my house well.’”⁠

“Young⁠ master!”

“See?⁠‍⁠ He’s bought even‌‌‌ our hearts with⁠​ money. How can‍‍‌ we not adore⁠ him?”

“He‍⁠‍ hasn’t bought mine​⁠ yet.”

“He‍ will.”

Vandel‌ smiled wistfully.

“With​ words like that,‌‍‌ how could we​⁠ not admire him?‍‍ I cooked happily‌ today because I’ve‍ already been well​⁠ rewarded.”

He‌​‍ made a circle‌⁠‍ with his fingers.​ Though it sounded‍‍ bold, it wasn’t⁠ untrue. Fernan always⁠‍ kept his word‌‌ and never skimped‌​ on those he⁠‌ considered his own.⁠​‌

At‌ that moment, Fernan⁠‌ emerged from the​‍​ tent.

“Did‌⁠‍ you all talk⁠ that badly about‍‌​ me?”

“On​‍ the contrary, we‍​ praised you. Now‍‍⁠ the professor will​​⁠ like you even‌​​ more.”

“Really?”​

“Ugh,‍ you’re giving me⁠⁠ chills.”

Rosalia‌​ lit a cigarette‌⁠⁠ with the campfire.‍

“Did‍‍⁠ you find the​⁠⁠ location?”

“More‍⁠⁠ or less. If​⁠‍ we leave at‍⁠ dawn, we should‌ get there in​ two days.”

“It’s‌ not that far.”​​

“We’ll‌‌⁠ have to search‍‍ a bit, but‌ monsters always leave⁠ traces.”

“That’s​ true.”

Rosalia‌⁠ looked at Wooden,‌⁠ hanging from Fernan’s‌‍ neck. She knew‌ that, thanks to​ the power of⁠‍​ the World Tree,‍ he could detect⁠‍⁠ monsters with precision.‍​‍

After‍‌ a bit more​‌⁠ chatting, everyone entered⁠⁠ their tents.

“We‍‌‌ leave tomorrow.”

At​ dawn the next‍ day, the group⁠‌ neatly packed up‍‍‌ the camp and‌ resumed their journey.​​⁠

“Professor,‍​ when you get‌⁠‍ the mithril, what‌ do you plan​ to do with⁠⁠‌ it?”

“Make‌ a staff.”

“Mithril‌​ is the best⁠​ material for that.‌⁠ Are you preparing​⁠ for the winter?‌​​ Ah, I heard‌‍ your opponent is​‌ already set. Duke‌ Bador Erbeto, right?”​‍

“That’s‌​⁠ right.”

Bador​​‍ Erbeto. Duke of​ the Kingdom of​⁠ Helfen in the​⁠​ southwest of the​‍ Lutar continent, and​ considered the weakest​‌ of the Archmages.⁠​​

“I​​ wanted to face​‌ Cardinal Albi or‌‌ Rector Mikale.”

Rosalia​‍ clicked her tongue.​‍

It‍​ didn’t matter who‍ the opponent was—she‌ had faith in​⁠‌ herself. In fact,‍​ she wanted to⁠​ face the top-tier‌‍ ones: the Cult’s‍ cardinal or the​‌ Academy’s own rector.‍

“Especially,‌ if I defeated​​⁠ the rector, it⁠⁠ would be the‌⁠‍ perfect portrait.”

Like‍ inheriting a throne—defeating‌​ the rector and⁠ taking his place‍​‍ would be an‍ imposing image.

“Denied.⁠ Even I wouldn’t⁠‌‌ allow that.”

“The⁠⁠‍ Duke and you​⁠‍ are both cowards…”​‍

Rosalia‌‍​ clicked her tongue​‍ again.

“They‍ say it’s foolish‌ to take the‌‍ hard road when​⁠‍ the easy one⁠⁠ is right there.”⁠⁠

If‍ there were no⁠ easier option, it‍⁠⁠ would be understandable.​ But no merchant⁠ would drag their‌⁠‌ cart down a rough path when​‌ a smooth road‌‍ was available. That⁠‍⁠ would only wear⁠‍‌ out the horses,⁠ the men, and⁠‌ consume more time‌‍ and effort.

“Weren’t⁠‍ you the one​ who said you’d‍ pave the road?”‌⁠⁠

“And⁠ now that I have, you insist‌⁠ on straying from‍‌⁠ it.”

“……”​‌

Rosalia​ fell silent, lacking‌‌⁠ arguments.

The‍⁠‌ group approached their⁠‌‍ destination.

Another‌⁠‌ day passed. Along‌‍ the way, they‌‌‌ faced an ogre‌‍⁠ that dominated the⁠‍⁠ mountain as its‍ territory and a pack of gnolls​⁠ devouring corpses. All⁠‍ were cut down⁠‍ by the knights’​ swords.

— Piii!

At⁠​​ that moment, something‌ descended from the‍ sky and snatched‌ the ogre’s body.​

“Young⁠ master, watch out!”⁠​

The​‍ knights immediately surrounded‍​ Fernan and Professor‍‌⁠ Rosalia, but Fernan,‌‌ upon recognizing the‍ bird, was surprised.⁠‌

“…A‍‍ Saintbird?”

“Silver?”​

The⁠ four wings left⁠‍ no doubt—it was⁠ a Saintbird.

— Kyu, Kyu.

Wooden’s‌⁠⁠ enthusiastic gestures confirmed‍​‌ it was Silver.⁠

The⁠ problem was, it‍‌ was no longer​ the Silver they​‍ once knew.

“Stand​​ down, there’s no⁠ need to stay⁠ on guard.”

Fernan‍‌​ calmed the knights⁠⁠​ and extended his⁠⁠⁠ hand. Silver, after‌‍‌ tasting a bite⁠ of the ogre‍‍ and spitting it‌ out, gently landed​⁠‌ in front of‍ him.

— Piii.

He‌ rubbed his face‍​ against him. His⁠ head was now‌‌‍ larger than Fernan’s⁠‍ own.

“…He​ wasn’t this big‌‍ before we left.”⁠​​

Silver‍‌⁠ had grown as⁠ if he’d suddenly‍ become an adult.⁠ With wings spread,‌ he spanned over‌ six meters—large enough​‍​ to easily carry​‌ two people.

“Did​ you come because‍​ you wanted to‌ see me?”

— Piii.

When‌⁠ Fernan stroked his​⁠ head, Silver seemed‌ to smile happily.⁠

“A​‌​ Saintbird? Wasn’t he​ Aint’s?”

“Yes,​‌‌ he is.”

“Then‍‌​ why is he⁠​‌ acting so affectionate⁠ with you? No,​‌ more importantly, why​‍​ did he come‍‍ to you all‌​ of a sudden?‍ And he wasn’t⁠⁠​ this big before‍‌‍ we left either.”​‍

“I​‍ think it’s because‍‌⁠ I was there​ when he was⁠⁠‍ born. For some⁠⁠ reason, he approached​⁠ me with trust‌​​ from the start.”⁠

Fernan​ improvised what he’d⁠​ planned to say‌​ in case it‍‍‍ ever came up.‍

“You‍⁠‌ were there when‍ he was born?”‌

“Yes.‍​‍ He was inside​​​ the box I gave to the‌⁠ professor.”

“…The‍ extreme freezing spell‌ was to preserve⁠‍​ the egg?”

Fernan‍​ didn’t know either⁠⁠ why he had‍ come now or​​‍ why he had​⁠ grown so much.‍⁠‌

— Kyu, kyuu.

When‍ he asked through‌ Wooden, he found‍ out that nothing‌⁠​ had happened at​​ the Academy.

He⁠​‌ had just come​ because, after molting‍‌ his feathers, he‍‍ wanted to see​​‌ him.

‘Molting⁠⁠ feathers…?’

Could‍ molting really cause⁠ such a sudden‍⁠​ leap to adulthood?‍‌ Or was it‍ something unique to‍⁠ spirit beasts?

In‍⁠ any case, it​ seemed true—his feathers​​ now gleamed more‌ and felt stronger.⁠‍⁠

‘If​ nothing happened, that’s‍‌⁠ a relief…’

Fernan⁠​⁠ pulled some beef​‌‌ from his subspace⁠ and gave it‌‌⁠ to Silver, who​‌ let out a satisfied chirp.

“I’m⁠⁠⁠ busy right now.‌‌ Stay nearby and‌‌‍ come when I call, but don’t‍ let anyone see​ you.”

— Piii.

Silver‌ nodded and took​‌ off into the​‍‌ sky.

“We’d‌ better get that‍‍‌ mithril soon and‌ return to the‍ Academy.”

The‍ feeling wasn’t a good one.

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