"Everyone, gather here." As twilight fell across the slopes of the hill, the sheep that had been grazing leisurely flocked together at Kaelen's single command. They moved in perfect unison, without the barking of sheepdogs to guide them or the prod of a shepherd's staff against their flanks. This was the work of magical power. From what he had gathered over the past eight years, magic followed three basic principles. First, if you desired something strongly enough, it could be made real by paying a price in mana. Second, speaking your wish aloud made it easier to achieve and consumed less power. And third, the more difficult the wish, the more mana it consumed—or it became impossible altogether. The definition of 'difficulty,' however, was frustratingly vague. Sometimes magic was surprisingly generous, granting wishes so easily it was hard to believe. Other times it was stubbornly stingy, refusing even the simplest of requests. It had been the same just a few days ago, during the fight with the leopard gryll. A command as simple as "stop"—far less complex than instant death—had barely taken hold on the beast. Yet here he was, effortlessly controlling over a hundred ordinary sheep at once. In contrast, it had been laughably simple to imbue his sling with the power and speed to shatter the gryll's skull, along with a blessing to ensure it found its mark. By his estimation of the power he had used then, Kaelen could have made hundreds of such attacks. Lost in thought as he herded the last of the sheep into their pen, he caught a faint scent on the wind. Blood, drifting from far away. It was just like the scent he had caught on the day of Silas's death. But this, his keen nose told him, was not human blood. Nor was it from a sheep or a leopard. Wolf? Yes, the smell was identical to that of the wolf he had killed and butchered a year ago. Sure enough, a short time later, a figure appeared silhouetted against the setting sun. It was Lorian, walking toward the house with a dead wolf slung over his shoulder. "Good evening, Kaelen," Lorian called out. "Would you mind if I stayed the night? I was hoping this wolf might cover the cost of lodging." The wolf was a fine catch. The hide could be sold to the villagers, and while the meat wasn't as tender as that of farm-raised livestock, it was far from bad. It was, in fact, more than enough for a single night's stay. Kaelen nodded. "There aren't many wolves left around here. How far did you go?" Thanks to Kaelen's habit of attacking any wolf packs he spotted during his patrols, predators had all but vanished from the immediate area. Besides, Cygnus Hill was so barren that few animals chose to live there in the first place. "Found it while scouting near the Caelus Mountains." The Caelus Mountains was the name for the range that soared into the heavens, even farther west than Cygnus Hill, which already sat at the world's western edge. Some called the range the Aegis Wall, for it looked exactly like an impassable barrier no human could ever hope to cross. "It must have taken you days just to reach the foothills." "Half a day was enough, at my pace." Kaelen wasn't particularly surprised; he could manage such a feat himself if he put his mind to it. He simply filed the information away. This wizard was no mere braggart, a fact that sharpened his caution. Soon, the two of them were sitting before a crackling bonfire in front of the house, sharing a dinner of wolf meat stew. Lorian whistled softly, his gaze turned to the heavens. "The stars are truly bright out here." "My mother used to say this hill is one of the highest places in the world. Except for the Caelus Mountains, of course." "What place isn't small compared to them? Seeing them again today, I was struck by their majesty. I doubt even a noble could cross them easily." "I heard nobles have powers like gods. Surely a mountain range would be a small obstacle for them?" "Not for all of them. The heads of the great houses, though... they truly are like gods." Lorian went on to boast that he had once seen the head of House Valerius level a small hill with a single gesture. "Oh." A flush of embarrassment warmed Kaelen's cheeks. Sometimes he entertained the fantasy that his own power might be greater than he knew, perhaps even on par with that of the nobility. Hearing Lorian's story, he was reminded of just how insignificant his abilities truly were compared to a real noble. "Don't you get lonely, living out here by yourself?" Lorian asked, changing the subject. "I do. But I'm used to it." "Why not take a wife from the village?" "What woman would want to spend her life on a desolate hill, tending sheep?" "I think you might be surprised. Quite a few young ladies would leap at the chance to live with a handsome man like you." Kaelen offered an awkward smile at the jest. When he was younger, a few girls from the village had followed him around, professing their affection. But after his mother died and he had his falling out with the village, all contact had been severed. They must have eventually realized the reality of the situation: marrying Kaelen meant a lifetime of exile on this barren hill. "Well, don't dwell on it," Lorian said gently. "Who knows? You might find a connection with some passing lady." A pointless thought, considering Lorian himself was the only traveler to visit in eighteen years. After a few more minutes of idle chatter, they fell into a companionable silence, staring into the dancing flames. It was Kaelen who finally broke it. "Why go to all this trouble?" "Hm?" "I don't know what the village chief promised you, but with your skills, you could earn far more money with far less effort." Who would dare refuse if a man like Lorian settled in their village, declared himself its protector, and demanded wealth and women in return? It would be a hundred times easier than staying at a shepherd's hovel, eating dust all day just to hunt a single gryll. Someone who could track and kill a wolf in the Caelus Mountains in half a day certainly didn't lack for ability. Furthermore, the villagers didn't deserve such kindness. They were the same people who had charged him and his mother exorbitant fees for lodging. If Kaelen were in Lorian's position, he would have leveled their village, taken their money, and left. "They are pitiful people," Lorian said simply. "In what way?" "To live day by day in fear, on a frontier with no wizard to protect them." The old knight sat across from him, his tone fatherly as he explained. While the lands around Cygnus Hill were relatively safe due to their barrenness, the fertile plains and mountains beyond teemed with countless gryll that preyed on humans. As one who inherited divine power, a wizard should take pride in protecting the powerless from such beasts. Though he no longer served a house, he couldn't simply ignore their plight. This was a stark contrast to what Kaelen's mother had taught him. Hadn't she said that nobles were oppressors and exploiters, and that their knights were nothing more than loyal dogs? Perhaps sensing his confusion, the old knight smiled and offered him a cup of sheep's milk. "Well, not everyone thinks as I do. There are as many ways of thinking as there are people in this world." == The next morning, Kaelen was lost in thought as he cleaned the sheep pen with a simple flick of his will. His mind was occupied by last night's conversation. Pride. That one word had struck a chord within him. The idea that knights weren't just slaves to noble power, but people who could find purpose in protecting commoners... it was a revelation. Learning this fact alone wasn't enough to make him want to run off and beg a noble for employment, but it had opened his mind, just a little. Just enough to think that if there were more people like Lorian, perhaps living under the rule of nobles wouldn't be so bad after all. That aside, how am I going to tell him the gryll is already dead? His original plan had been to let the old wizard search in vain until he gave up and left. But he found he didn't want to make a good man like Lorian waste his time in this desolate place. The problem was that several days had passed since he'd thrown the gryll's corpse into a deep ravine. Not only would it be a chore to find and retrieve the rotting carcass, but it would also bear the unmistakable traces of Kaelen's magic. If anyone came looking for a wizard in this area, he would immediately become the prime suspect. With a sigh, he waved his hand, and all the sheep droppings in the pen flew into a neat pile in the back yard. Once they dried in the hill's arid climate, they would make excellent fuel for the hearth. With the cleaning done, he had time to spare. Maybe I should look for the old man. If Lorian had gone far, as he had yesterday, it would be impossible. But he'd said he planned to patrol closer to the hill today. It might be possible to get a look. Kaelen focused his mind, floating lightly up to the roof of his house before chanting a spell. "Human search." With the words, his perception expanded at a dizzying rate. His sight, normally limited to a hundred meters, exploded outward, suddenly sharp enough to distinguish individual blades of grass kilometers away. His senses of smell and hearing amplified even further, catching the rustle of an insect's legs nearby and the faint tang of its formic acid. The spell filtered it all, blocking out unnecessary information and focusing his awareness on a single target: humans. Where is... huh? After a moment of scanning his surroundings, a sound snagged his attention. Kaelen whipped his head around. His enhanced vision found Lorian instantly. The old knight was bleeding from his forehead and shoulder, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. Opposite him, roaring with fury, stood the leopard gryll that Kaelen had killed days ago, its body half-rotted and hideously reanimated. == Who would do such a thing? Lorian gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on the undead gryll. Most living things instinctively clung to life in their final moments. Mana, the key to omnipotence, would sometimes answer that desperate will, forcibly reviving a broken body. The result was an undead. For this reason, it was standard practice to either absorb or disperse the mana left in the corpse of a wizard or a gryll after killing it. Whoever had killed this leopard gryll either didn't know the rules or had deliberately ignored them. A gryll would have instinctively devoured its kill to absorb the power, so the culprit had to be a wizard. Judging by the hole in its skull, a wizard skilled with projectile spells. [RAAAWR--!!] The roar that tore from its rotting vocal cords was a death rattle that echoed across the hills. It was a fitting sound. "Take this!" Lorian shouted, and an arrow of pure light blazed from his outstretched hand. Though it held enough power to pierce steel armor, the arrow dissolved harmlessly against the dark aura shrouding the leopard's body. The mana protecting the beast was far stronger than his spell. Having negated the attack, the leopard countered magic with magic. It melted into the ground, its form dissolving into shadow, only to instantly materialize from Lorian's own shadow behind him. He threw up his arms to defend, but not before its claws raked his forearm, sending a spray of hot blood into the air. His body was tempered by mana; a normal person would have just lost their arm and half their torso. This... this is beyond a knight's power. It would take a lesser noble, at least. While the resentment of their death made undead far stronger, for it to be a match for a skilled knight like himself, the creature must have been incredibly powerful even in life. Who on earth could have killed such a beast and then simply abandoned the corpse? And for what purpose? [Grrrr-] The undead growled, a low, leisurely rumble, as if it considered its prey already caught. It began to stalk toward him. The old knight, sensing death's approach, gritted his teeth and prepared for one final counterattack. If he could channel every last drop of his mana into his hand and strike it directly as it pounced, there was a slim chance... But his desperate planning was rendered pointless. A flash of light shot in from the distance. It moved so fast it broke the sound barrier, arriving long before its sound. The round stone obliterated the undead’s rotting head in a spray of decayed flesh and bone.

Chapter 2: He Wished It So