Chapter 32. Relapsing Fever
Binaeril left the terrified Village Chief Bilwood behind and approached the collapsed young man.
Whatever the chief’s attitude, his son was guilty of nothing.
Examining the wound was no difficult task.
“How is he?”
The chief asked impatiently.
“Wait and see.”
There was a long gash along the inside of his thigh, though it did not look particularly deep.
“There is no danger to his life whatsoever. The bleeding is not severe either. If we can just quell the demonic energy, the external wound will not pose a serious problem.”
The doctor standing there grimly explained.
‘If I called Rike, she could fix this easily.’
Being wounded by a demon did not immediately mean one’s life was in danger.
Demonic energy would slowly spread over time, eating away at the area around the wound.
It was simply that ordinary people without any resistance could not endure the pain.
Almost like a kind of poison.
‘Wait.’
Binaeril stopped himself from calling Rike and thought of another way.
The chief’s son’s wound was caused by demonic energy.
The demon essence stone was the crystallization of demonic energy.
Veritas fed on demon essence stones.
Which meant…?
‘Veritas, can you extract and consume only the demonic energy from the wound?’
—Not difficult.
‘What? You can do that?’
He’d had no idea this would work.
Then he could extract the demonic energy using only Veritas’s power, without having to call Rike.
Now, the chief’s son’s life rested in Binaeril’s hands.
However, Binaeril had no intention of simply complying with their every request.
Binaeril clasped his hands behind his back, raised Veritas, and brought it to the affected area.
He would heal the son. The boy was innocent, after all.
But the chief also needed an opportunity to reflect.
“Village Chief Bilwood.”
The old chief looked at him.
“If we leave him like this, your son will certainly die. At the very least, the wounded leg will have to be amputated.”
Binaeril deliberately lied.
The chief’s expression grew solemn.
“Is your son that important to you?”
“Of course!”
“More than your wealth or position?”
The chief was a vile man.
You could tell just by how he treated not only Binaeril’s group but also Oswald, a fellow villager, and the village doctor.
If he hesitated even slightly in his answer, Binaeril intended to punish him.
If wealth and position mattered more than his son’s life, it would mean the chief was a selfish man who cared only for himself.
He would feel not the slightest guilt about punishing such a man.
‘Now, how will he answer?’
“That child is the only flesh and blood I have left. Please, save him!”
But when it came to his son, Village Chief Bilwood was not a selfish man.
The chief fell to his knees and begged Binaeril like a supplicant.
Binaeril looked down at the kneeling chief and pressed him further.
“You pinned absurd accusations on a young magician, called guards to threaten us, and now you ask us to save your son?”
“I’m sorry. I am truly sorry. I’ll never do it again. I’ll give you as much money as you want!”
“You’ll never do it again?”
“Of course, if you’ll just save him, never again!”
Binaeril seized on his words.
“Those words—you promise?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Deceiving people, pretending to show kindness while taking unfair profits, threatening people. And…”
“I understand, I understand! I’ll never do it again!”
“I haven’t finished. You will respect the villagers. You will not manage the village’s wealth alone. And finally, you will trust the captain of the guard.”
Binaeril sent a glance toward Oswald the guardsman.
When the chief didn’t seem to catch on quickly, Binaeril deliberately prodded the son’s wound.
“Kgh!”
Hearing his son’s groan, the chief nodded repeatedly in startled understanding.
Because to his eyes, his son appeared to be in critical condition, hovering between life and death.
“I cannot simply take the chief at his word. I shall place certain constraints of my own to ensure you keep your promise.”
The chief was no magician, so he could not make a magical oath.
“Let festering flesh heal like a miracle.”
Binaeril deliberately chanted an exaggerated incantation while bursting forth a shower of light.
The words held no meaning, devoid of mana or any power whatsoever.
But to the people’s eyes, it looked like a mysterious light enveloping the wound.
Binaeril waited a moment so the people could clearly witness the sight.
“I have suppressed the wound with my magic. If the chief breaks his promise, this spell will break.”
Binaeril spoke in a solemn voice, acting his part.
“If you wish to save your son’s life, you would do well to keep your word from now on. Village Chief Bilwood of Fairhill.”
Amidst the fading light, in the chief’s eyes, this young magician looked exactly like Dekiplio of legend.
The great magician Dekiplio who saved villages and lives, no.
Great Magician Binaeril Dalhaim.
By the time they finished dealing with the remnants and healing, it was nearly noon.
Binaeril’s party wasted no more time and left Fairhill.
“Thank you, Magician.”
“Take care.”
The people came out to the village entrance to see off the three young magicians.
“They keep saying goodbye until the very end. Shouldn’t they go back in by now?”
Sylvia shaded her eyes with the back of her hand as she looked toward Fairhill.
“But they weren’t bad people.”
Rike had taken charge of treating the wounded after the battle ended.
Watching her magic cleanly heal wounds, people were amazed and called her a saint.
Among them, there was even an old man who shed streams of tears and repeatedly cried that it was a miracle.
“Not all the villagers could have been bad. It was just the chief and a few others.”
“Maybe. Who knows.”
Binaeril said sharply. The two girls looked at him.
“There’s no knowing who was involved and who was innocent from the start. But it’s certain that the other villagers were at least complicit in deceiving young magicians.”
“There you go again, being contrary. What’s the problem? That guardsman was quite respectful to you in the end.”
“That man saw our strength. He’s not acknowledging his wrongs or repenting. He’s just terrified.”
“But you got the chief to promise he wouldn’t do it anymore?”
“His son’s life was held as collateral.”
Sylvia clicked her tongue at Binaeril’s logic and asked.
“Hah, really. If you’re going to be that distrustful, why even bother getting such a promise in the first place?”
“I don’t know either.”
That was the truth.
Binaeril had no expectation that the chief would become a completely different person because of a promise made to him.
He didn’t have much hope that the chief would sincerely keep his word, either.
If it was a promise that wouldn’t be kept, did it have no meaning at all?
Then what had Binaeril negotiated for, holding the son’s life hostage?
Veritas answered Binaeril’s question in his stead.
—Why, to mete out punishment, of course. To someone who doesn’t keep their promise, you can deliver just punishment!
Binaeril didn’t think that was it.
But he was still a young magician who couldn’t be certain of his own judgment.
His head was spinning, making it difficult to continue thinking.
“Binaeril, are you okay? You don’t look well.”
“Mmm… I’m fine.”
Holding a conversation while intoxicated by the demon essence stone’s energy was difficult.
It was mana intoxication, a symptom he had experienced before.
Binaeril pictured Veritas enjoying a feast, delighted, in his imagination.
“Let’s hurry. Westward.”
“Sylvia, how far is the next village?”
“If we walk without breaks, we’ll arrive by evening. We’ll get there, but…”
Even after traveling another day, they were still within Elfenbain’s sphere of influence.
Which meant there was no guarantee the next village wouldn’t be like Fairhill.
Binaeril immediately understood the words Sylvia had left unsaid.
He hoped the next village would at least be normal.
He was in no condition to camp out.
Binaeril crumpled forward exactly as he had been walking.
As if someone had forcibly switched off his consciousness, he collapsed without the slightest warning.
Sylvia nimbly caught him as he fell.
The scorching heat from his body made her flinch in surprise.
“His body is like a ball of fire, Princess!”
Rike also rushed over and touched Binaeril’s forehead.
His fever was raging.
They used every healing spell that came to mind in desperation, but Binaeril’s breathing did not stabilize in the slightest.
“Sylvia. Can you carry him?”
Sylvia nodded.
They hoisted the collapsed Binaeril onto their backs and sprinted toward the next village.
Running while carrying a limp patient was no easy task.
By the time they reached Rostok, west of Fairhill, Sylvia’s back was soaked with sweat.
Rostok was a village slightly smaller than Fairhill.
But Fairhill was unusually large for a village; Rostok was by no means a small town.
The chief of Rostok quickly sized up the visitors’ appearances and instinctively welcomed them.
“Welcome, Magicians! Rostok welcomes you! Shall we start with a meal? Or a bath?”
It was a familiar tune with predictable results, but their circumstances were different now than in Fairhill.
“We have a patient. Give us a room first. Quickly. And if there’s a doctor in the village, could you call for him?”
Healing magic was not a panacea. It was specialized for treating external wounds or demon-inflicted injuries that could be clearly identified.
In a situation like now, suffering from an unknown fever, a doctor was needed more than a magician.
“Of course, certainly. However, our village prices are a bit high…”
The more desperate the traveler, the more likely they were to open their purse without hesitation.
The chief of Rostok tested the young visitors like a shrewd merchant.
“Here you are.”
Rike unhesitatingly pulled out a single Florin gold coin.
‘Gasp!’
The single gold coin falling into his hand wasn’t what mattered.
The sharp-eyed chief confirmed that her pocket was filled with glittering gold coins.
“Then this way…”
The chief’s eyes gleamed with greed.
One collapsed injured boy, two girls.
No weapons, clean clothes. Clearly fledgling magicians fresh from the academy.
The chief finished his calculations in his head.
He had a feeling tonight would be a long one.
“I cannot determine the cause. There are no particular abnormalities.”
In the end, the doctor was of no help at all.
Rike and Sylvia put their heads together and worried, but they couldn’t easily identify it as mana intoxication.
Binaeril lay in a clean bed, sweating cold sweat and suffering.
“Let’s take turns nursing him tonight.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Seeing him in pain, Sylvia felt guilty about their bickering during the day.
Rostok’s circumstances were not much different from Fairhill’s.
The chief here took the gold coin Rike offered and gleefully gave them a room.
It was an outrageous rip-off, but they had no choice at the moment. They couldn’t leave a patient out on the street.
“Well, at least he’s treating us kindly since we’re paying.”
“Right.”
The two smiled bitterly.
The chief and the others were thinking differently.
“They’re loaded?”
“Yeah. They’re soft, well-fed brats. They handed over a gold coin without a second thought.”
“But didn’t you say they seem to be magicians?”
“You little shit, didn’t you hear what I just said? They’re soft, well-fed brats. Their cheeks are chubby; they don’t even look twenty.”
The chief snapped at the young men making grim faces.
“Chief. Still, they’re magicians, magicians. What does age matter? They could kill everyone here with a flick of a finger.”
“Heh heh heh. I prepared for that.”
“Prepared?”
“I drugged their meal. I clearly saw them finish the bread laced with sleeping medicine and come out with empty bowls. By the time midnight passes, not one of them will be awake.”
“Still…”
That they were magicians was purely the chief’s speculation.
Young people wandering around without proper arms were usually magicians.
And the name “magician” was enough to instill fear of the unknown in village youths.
When they didn’t seem inclined to obey readily, the chief pulled out his trump card.
Clink.
“See this?”
It was the Florin gold coin received in advance from Rike.
“A gold coin, a gold coin. Not silver, not copper. Pristine and new. They handed over money like this without a second thought. Even if we gut them and find just two or three more Florin gold coins, it’ll be the windfall of a lifetime. Anyone who doesn’t want to can back out. But whoever backs out gets not a single penny.”
The brilliant gleam of gold entered the rural youths’ eyes.
The chief knew well how to handle hot-blooded young men.
“Still any cowards who want to back out?”
No one answered.
The young men exchanged grim gazes.
“They’re in the room at the end of the second floor. Gather here again a little past midnight tonight. Understood?”