Boran was ten the winter he first tasted magic. It was eight years ago.
His mother was out with the sheep. He was thinking of lighting a fire when flames simply erupted from the stove, a sudden, blossoming warmth that answered the wish in his mind.
It didn't take long for Boran to realize he could do impossible things with just a thought.
He could lift objects, conjure fire, summon gusts of wind, or even shape invisible walls in the air.
“Mom, look at this! The firewood is flying!”
That evening, he eagerly showed off for his mother when she returned with the sheep and their dog.
But she didn't marvel at her son’s new abilities, nor did she celebrate them. With a face carved from resignation and despair, she simply reached out and plucked the floating log from the air.
“Boran, we need to make a promise. Promise me you won’t use that power carelessly. And especially, never in front of other people.”
“Why?”
Boran, who had always been an obedient child, couldn’t help but pout. Why would she ask him to hide something so fascinating, so fun?
His mother warmed a cup of sheep’s milk for him and, for the very first time, told him of the world that lay far below their hill.
“Down there,” she began, “there are people called nobles.”
According to her, nobles were the descendants of the Tengri Sky Clan, who had come down to the world long ago to save humanity.
These nobles inherited immense magical power from their ancestors, and they ruled over mankind as both protectors and sovereigns.
Among them, those born of both noble and human blood were called knights. Knights possessed magic as well, but their power was a paler shadow of true nobility, and so they were treated as servants.
His father, she explained, had been a knight, and Boran had inherited his power. If he ever went down the mountain, she warned, cruel nobles would capture him and press him into a life of servitude.
“If nobles are shepherds like us, then knights are the dogs they keep. Sometimes they’re treated like family, showered with affection… but they can also be sold off, or sent to their deaths whenever it’s convenient.”
Though the nobles had everything, they fought constantly among themselves for more. And in those conflicts, it was always the knights who bled first.
Like a shepherd who sends his dog to fight off wolves, standing safely behind and throwing stones from a distance.
As she spoke, a desolation he had never seen before settled over her face.
“Boran, you want to live with me for a long, long time, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you must hide that power. If you don’t, the bad nobles will come and take you away. And you’ll never see me again.”
“Okay, I promise! I won’t use it in front of anyone!”
Eight years had passed since Boran had made that confident promise.
Even after his mother sickened and died, he remained on the slopes of Boranis Rise, tending his flock.
Hiding from the nobles who might one day come looking for him. Refusing to become their shepherd dog.
“What a pack of idiots.”
Boran scowled, shutting the door to his cabin.
The young men from the village had come before sunrise, wanting to confront him about old Nakri’s death a few days prior.
The signs of an attack by a leopard-like magical beast were obvious, but they insisted Boran must have killed the old man and thrown the body to the creature as bait. The accusation was absurd.
It wasn’t hard to guess their motive.
Of course, Boran had sent the young men packing with a sound thrashing.
They would probably use the fight as an excuse to shortchange him or sabotage his goods the next time he went to the village to trade.
If they did, he would just have to knock some sense into a few of them to ensure a fair deal.
It was an annoying cycle, one he’d grown accustomed to over the years.
He was lost in thought when a sudden, heavy bang, bang on the door startled him.
Boran let out a deep sigh before wrenching the door open.
“Who the hell is it now?” he growled. “Got a death wish?”
Had they really forgotten the lesson he’d taught them just a few hours ago?
But the person standing on his threshold was not one of the village youths.
It was a man who looked to be in his late forties, his cloak layered with the dust of a long road. He offered an awkward smile.
“Ah… apologies, young man. I’m a traveler, just hoping for a moment’s rest. But it looks like I’ve come at a bad time.”
A traveler? In his eighteen years, Boran had never met one. For a moment, he just stared, baffled.
Who had the leisure to visit a place this desolate?
After a moment of stiffness, Boran stepped aside, gesturing for the man to enter.
“No, not at all. Please, come in. I just had some unpleasant visitors.”
The formal words his mother had taught him for addressing elders felt foreign on his tongue.
When was the last time he’d spoken like this?
It must have been before he’d learned that everyone in the village, from Nakri to the other elders, was a complete and utter asshole. A long time, then.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Truthfully, if he wanted to keep his identity hidden, he should have sent the stranger away immediately. But he let him in.
It had been so long since Boran had spoken to anyone without hostility simmering beneath the surface. He found himself hungry for even a brief, peaceful conversation.
Besides, if the man turned out to have ill intentions, Boran was confident he could handle him.
“Have you had breakfast?”
“Not yet.”
“Neither have I. Why don’t you join me?”
Boran seated the traveler at his small table and set out what he had: a pitcher of freshly churned sheep’s milk, a round of cheese, porridge made from grain he’d traded for in the village, a lump of rock salt, and strips of dried lamb.
Unless you were starving yourself, his mother had taught him, you treat a guest with hospitality. Then they would never think to harm you.
It was another piece of etiquette she had drilled into him.
“It’s a poor place. I don’t have much to offer.”
“What are you talking about? This is a feast! Thank you for the meal.”
The man didn’t seem to be feigning gratitude. He ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t seen a proper meal in days.
Even so, he displayed a politeness at the table that Boran had never witnessed from the villagers.
He didn’t speak with his mouth full and turned his head slightly when he drank. Small courtesies that marked him as something different.
Perhaps the traveler noticed something similar in Boran. After taking a sip of milk, he offered a kind remark.
“You have good manners. Your parents must have taught you well.”
“I learned from my mother.”
Boran’s failure to mention a father was not lost on the traveler, who hesitated a moment before continuing.
“And… is your mother in the village? The cabin seems to be just for one.”
He must have noticed the single bed.
Boran nodded, his tone calm.
“She passed away from an illness a few years ago.”
A troubled look crossed the traveler’s face. He bowed his head and made a gesture with one hand that Boran had never seen before.
“My condolences. To have raised such a fine young man, she must be resting in the celestial palace.”
“I hope so.”
There was a time when the mere thought of his mother would have stolen his appetite and left him weeping for the rest of the day.
Was he able to speak of it with a calm face now because he was an adult? Or had the years simply dulled her presence in his heart?
A wave of gloom washed over him. Boran pushed the thought away and changed the subject.
“So, what brings a traveler to such a remote place?”
“I was passing through a nearby city when I heard an old man looking to hire a wizard. He said a leopard magical beast had appeared in his village. After hearing his story, I decided to come and deal with it. I’m quite confident in a fight.”
“Alone?”
A middle-aged man, past his prime and looking as though a strong wind might break his back, was going to face a magical beast without so much as a weapon?
Boran’s astonished expression drew a wry smile from the traveler.
“I’m a knight. I served House Samarkhan for sixty years. I can handle most magical beasts just fine.”
At the word ‘knight,’ Boran’s eyes widened. His whole body went rigid.
A creature from his mother’s cautionary tales. The servant of the nobles.
But the tension was short-lived. He saw no hostility in the man’s gaze and slowly, consciously, relaxed his stiffened muscles.
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s just… this is my first time meeting a wizard. And you don’t look like you’ve been working for sixty years.”
“Wizards age more slowly than ordinary people, and we live longer. I’m seventy-five this year. For a knight, this is how I’ve aged. I’ve heard that powerful nobles can easily live for two or three hundred years.”
This was news to Boran. He studied the man with newfound amazement, someone of his own kind.
Outwardly, there was nothing to distinguish him from a normal person.
If there was any difference, it was his sturdy build and a healthy complexion that gave him a robust look…
In other words, you couldn’t tell a wizard was a wizard just by looking at them.
This was critical information.
It meant that even if Boran stood in the middle of a crowded city, no one would know what he was, so long as he didn’t use his magic.
With that realization, it felt as if a chain that had been constricting his chest for years had finally loosened a link.
“Being a wizard sounds incredible.”
“Incredible? Not at all. I think people like you are the incredible ones. Living in a harsh place like this, with magical beasts appearing, and without relying on any magic? I couldn’t imagine it.”
Contrary to the man’s assumption, this was the first time a magical beast dangerous to humans had ever appeared in the area.
At least, not since Boran had been born.
Otherwise, his mother, for all her strength, could never have survived here alone as a shepherd.
In truth, the person truly deserving of praise was his mother, who had raised a child on this desolate hill with no power of her own.
“Now that I think of it, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Batyr. Batyr of Samarkhan—or I suppose I shouldn’t call myself that anymore. Just Batyr the Wayfarer. And you are?”
“I’m Boran. The only shepherd on Boranis Rise.”
“That’s a fine name.”
“You said you ‘served’ a noble house. Does that mean you’re no longer with them?”
“I officially ended my service a month ago. The house offered to look after me until my dying day, but… I wanted to spend my final years traveling. I’ve been tied to a single house since I was hired at fifteen, after all.”
“Aren’t other noble houses trying to recruit you?”
“Why would they? I’m no legendary knight with a list of grand achievements, nor am I some promising youth. Keeping an old dog like me around would just be a waste of their resources.”
Though he called himself an ‘old dog,’ Batyr’s face held an undeniable pride, a quiet confidence.
Boran had always been told that nobles were arrogant, cruel predators, and knights were their emotionless hunting dogs.
Yet Batyr seemed more composed and decent than any adult Boran had ever met.
After they finished their pleasant meal, Batyr stood and placed a small silver coin on the table.
One side of the coin was stamped with the face of a handsome man, though Boran had no idea who it was.
“This is an Samarkhan Silver. It has the highest purity of any silver coin. If you trade it in the village, it should more than cover the meal. Though I hear prices in this area are a bit steep.”
Batyr grumbled about a village trying to swindle someone who had come to help them. Considering Boran’s own experiences, it wasn’t surprising in the least.
Boran pocketed the coin and gave a polite bow.
“I hope your hunt goes smoothly.”
“Don’t look so final about it. I might just drop by for another meal!”