Youngest 008
by CristaeEpisode 8
“Don’t touch that.”
“Huh?”
“I know it looks pretty… but it’s poisonous.”
Leviathan Mister scowled and pulled me far away.
“Sibelita Herb.”
“Ah, but this is…”
I almost corrected him, then let it go.
Abelita and Sibelita.
Two herbs with not only similar names, but also seemingly similar appearances—at least at a glance. Upon closer inspection, everything was different…
‘But I suppose to the untrained eye, it looks the same.’
The biggest difference was the blue magical aura surrounding the flower.
For that reason, mages could never confuse the two, but for non-mages, it was no easy feat.
Not unless one was particularly knowledgeable about herbs.
“Don’t touch things carelessly. It could be dangerous.”
I withdrew my hand and obediently nodded.
Well, it wasn’t like I needed it right now anyway…
“Your Grace, the camp preparations are complete!”
“Let’s go.”
Mister held out his hand. I took it and turned around.
“Wow.”
Before me, a row of neatly erected tents greeted my sight.
“That was fast.”
Knights bustled with precision in between.
“Hup, two!”
Burly muscle shows took place all over.
They might have looked like ordinary strongmen, but the truth was, each was a seasoned knight renowned from war.
“Men of the north, indeed…”
I murmured in admiration, nodding to myself.
“You’ll be like that soon enough.”
“Huh… What?”
“Zevert is a house of knights. If you wish to stay with House Zevert, becoming a knight is a given. You’re no exception.”
Oh, what a bolt from the blue.
“Frankly, you’d be better off building some strength in the north.”
You know, I only hide my power—a pretty strong mage, actually…
I briefly imagined my future.
Vomiting while running laps in the training yard, vomiting after swinging a sword hundreds of times, vomiting after shooting a bow a million times…
‘A vomit ending…’
And how is that any different from ruin?
“I don’t know what you’re imagining, but I wish you could see your own face.”
“Mm. I’m the picture of a frail child; everything shows on my face. I’m not good with tough stuff…”
“Only when it suits you.”
“Not very good a—…”
“I told you, saying it cutely won’t work.”
Mister gently pinched my earlobe.
“Don’t worry.”
He lifted me up with ease, and my limbs dangled like those of a doll.
My eyes met his clear violet ones beneath gracefully arched brows.
“I’m thinking of doing something about those weak limbs first.”
It sounded like a witch’s whisper, promising to fatten me up and then devour me.
“I’ll see to your proper training in the north.”
“Please don’t say things like that with such an evil smile…”
I really had followed a villain masquerading as a hero, it seemed.
While the villain was off inspecting the camp, I escaped to Sir Leon’s side.
“Mister, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Sir Leon was half undressed, sitting on a rock.
Even now, he neatly folded his clothes with military precision… somehow, it was almost unnerving.
“You don’t look fine at all.”
Red, yellow, blue…
How had he endured all that pain?
Worst of all was his shoulder, swollen as if something had struck it hard.
“Wow, how did you even ride with a shoulder like that? I insisted you take me without even knowing…”
I let out a worried sigh as I looked at the bruised swelling.
“Sorry, Mister.”
Sir Leon faltered a little, looking flustered.
“T-this is my fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But—”
“Don’t… don’t make that face. Honestly, I could give you a ride for a whole month, no problem.”
“Well, I’d rather not— Ugh! Wait a minute!”
Abruptly, I plugged my nose against an unpleasant odor. Sir Leon had produced something mysterious.
“What is thaat?”
“…It’s ointment.”
“It smehlls abwahful!”
“It doesn’t smell bad.”
Leviathan Mister appeared beside me, ruffling my hair as he laughed.
No way!
I can’t believe they’re using this old-fashioned bruise ointment!
There are much better, scentless ointments out there these days—at least in the Mage Kingdom!
“It’s cold. Quit playing and get inside the tent.”
Mister wrapped me in a thick cloak.
“Ahh… okay.”
I hurried to stand up.
Sir Leon, meanwhile, began slathering the ointment all over himself like a pig wallowing in mud.
So much for not being in pain.
He must be hurting a lot.
“Mister is going to check for monsters nearby. You stay here and rest quietly. Don’t get into trouble.”
“Yes!”
After tucking me into the tent himself, Mister rode off with the black-armored knights. Thanks to the blazing brazier, it was a little warm inside.
‘Hmm.’
Without removing the cloak, I hesitated, then quietly moved toward where the Abelita Herb grew.
“Never thought I’d need it so soon.”
I picked a little and stuffed it into the pocket of my cloak.
Back in the tent, I washed it in clean water, then separated stems, leaves, and flowers. Using a flint I’d found nearby, I ground them finely.
‘How much of this should I mix in the ointment?’
I gauged the amounts, eyeing the bruise ointment from Mister’s supplies.
Herbology, after all, is basic training for any mage.
I figured I’d upgrade the ointment’s properties with this herb.
‘It would be even better if I imbued it with magic…’
But that would seem suspicious. Imagine handing them ointment that heals injuries overnight.
So, I just quietly mixed in the ground herbs.
That was when—
A faint crackling noise, like radio static, came from somewhere.
[ …you there? ]
A sound like a radio frequency from modern times.
Hands stilled, I lifted my head abruptly.
“…”
All was still. Only the wind making the tent flap with a lonely rustle.
What was that? My imagination?
Puzzled, I turned back to the ointment.
[ …! …! ]
The static buzzed again, louder this time.
“No way.”
Cautiously, I rubbed my earlobe. Behind my right ear was a small magical sigil.
So tiny, you’d mistake it for a freckle or a scar.
An Oath Sigil.
But I was not the one who had sworn the oath.
I had received it.
“Khalid?”
I touched the mark and called softly.
The static stopped. Then, as if a frequency had been tuned, a clear and vivid voice flowed through.
[ Master! ]
‘Khalid, is that you?’
I closed my eyes, focusing inwardly on the connection.
Khalid was a boy I’d met on the battlefield.
After saving him once, he began calling me master and followed me everywhere.
We’d parted ways when I was sent to Canalran Gorge.
[ Do you know how worried I was when I couldn’t sense your magic until now? ]
Khalid’s voice came sharp and low.
[ I couldn’t feel you. Anywhere. ]
Oaths among mages are extreme by nature. Once made, your magical energies become bound like ropes.
Thanks to that, you can communicate like this, or at least sense if the other is alive…
But it does mean you’re forced to drag around a bothersome tail for life.
[ Where are you, anyway? ]
‘I’m…’
[ Ah, Babylon, of course. ]
Khalid didn’t even give me a chance to answer.
[ Wait right there. I’ll come soon. ]
‘What? How are you going to get here? This place is far!’
[ Relax, you. So cute that you’re surprised. ]
‘Say what?’
[ Next to your ear. Press down. I can’t hear you. ]
I pressed my earlobe tighter.
‘How do you plan to get here? Aren’t you at the southern tip of the continent?’
Khalid just gave a low, amused laugh.
[ There’s nowhere a Fugitive Mage can’t go. ]
Oh, that’s right.
Before me, Khalid and his mother had fled the Mage Kingdom. To be exact, his mother had hidden her pregnancy and run from the kingdom.
So Khalid had been born in secret, somewhere in the continent.
Which made Khalid an Unregistered Mage.
[ See you soon. ]
‘No, that’s not it—I’ll get in trouble if you’re caught… Hey, hello? Khalid!’
The connection suddenly dropped.
No matter how much I called, there was no reply.
‘Khalid? Khalid!’
He must have deliberately cut off the magical link. Which meant—
He’d blocked me!
That arrogant Khalid Riorc!
“Just try coming.”
Grinding my teeth, I resolved to bite his hand when we met.
Late at night.
Leon Schjerk was returning from his patrol of the camp perimeter as he approached his tent.
“Mister. Mister.”
Leon paused mid-step.
A tiny hand poked out from the left side of the tent. The gentle beckoning drew him, almost against his will.
“…”
There stood a child, barely tall enough to reach his waist, smiling with hands folded behind their back.
Moonlight gleamed in those blue eyes and made the silver hair look fluffy and soft.
Though the back had been hacked at by someone’s scissors…
‘It looks so soft…’
Leon remembered the small head bobbing in front of his chest that afternoon.
He once recall the shock of feeling the breast feathers of a white warbler in the woods.
‘Would it feel like that?’
He stiffened repeatedly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch.
“Are you feeling better?”
The child asked abruptly, cheeks flushed.
When he hesitated for words, Rubian suddenly pulled something out from behind their back.
“A present!”
“…What is it?”
Leon took it without thinking. He opened it to find a translucent ointment dotted with powder.
“Ointment?”
“Yeah. It smelled so nasty, so I smashed up some flowers nearby and mixed them in.”
Leon couldn’t help but chuckle.
Wasn’t this what childlike thinking meant?
If the ointment smells bad, just cover it with flower scent.
‘But it really does smell a bit pleasant now, come to think of it.’
He was so used to that awful bruise ointment, having used it as naturally as breathing, that he’d stopped noticing the smell.
More than that, he didn’t know why he was being given this.
Leon looked down at Rubian.
“Why are you…”
“For letting me ride with you earlier. Thank you.”
A clear voice spoke the words crisply.
Leon Schjerk was utterly unskilled with children.
But even he could sense the child before him was different from those he’d seen in the capital.
The children there were simply bright.
The laughter of the children running through the central square sounded like bells.
That was his pride.
The pride of having kept those smiles safe.
Once more, he looked at Rubian.
“I won’t be a burden. Don’t worry.”
Children didn’t speak with such resolve.
At least, none that he knew.
Leon regretted how he’d spoken earlier.
He figured he’d been too harsh and silently rebuked himself. But he’d never learned to choose his words, never learned how to soften them.
He’d been wandering the battlefield for ten years.
Changing the way he communicated was only natural.
‘Even after what I said…’
And now he was being thanked.
“You know… the war is over.”
How had the child sensed that he was still clinging to war?
Suddenly, Leon’s mouth went dry.
He felt compelled to make amends for his earlier mistake.
This time, a little better—a little gentler.
“I… I mean…”
“…?”
“I didn’t really mean you’d be a burden.”
A bit of fluff, a burden? Nonsense.
What he really meant was… a child so small and gentle as you should run wild and laugh in the tranquil capital, like those other children in the square.
“So what I meant was…”
He wished the child would smile that way.
“Ha… This is hard.”
But the words just wouldn’t come. Leon simply forced himself to spit it out.
“I’m sorry. And thank you.”
Rubian wore a look of understanding.
“Okay!”
Leon, almost unconsciously, reached out and ruffled the round head.
Rubian puckered their lips and smiled, like a little bird.
It felt as if a warm wind was blowing from somewhere.
And sure enough, it was, as expected, an incredibly soft sensation.
When Sir Leon had recovered enough, the journey resumed.
From then on, there were no more delays in the procession.
The knights, somehow, had found a new carriage—one with huge windows that made it feel open on all sides.
I slowly got used to riding in the carriage.
Whenever I spent a little more time inside, Sir Leon seemed to look vaguely disappointed… but surely not.
In any case, after a few more weeks of travel, we finally arrived.
At the Duchy of Zevert!