I Already Know My Magic Power Is Ridiculously High! Now I Just Need a Cute Wife... - Episode 65

Drow, who introduced himself as an informant, cast his sharp gaze into the distance.

“—Look, that woman over there, the cleric.”

“Hmm? That is…?”

Drow pointed toward a young woman dressed in a nun’s robe with a glamorous figure.

Zoan recognized her.

She was the same woman who had traveled with their caravan to Bangwall Fortress.

The guards had warned him that she possessed magic, so he had kept his distance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is no need to listen any further to the delusional words of the ruinists. Ortenos is the promised sanctuary, the only land on the Atla continent blessed to have overcome the prophecy. Now, let us all offer our prayers to Saint Shalka…!”

The woman in the nun’s robe preached passionately to the people, then turned toward the main castle of Bangwall Fortress and began praying.

“Oh, Saint Shalka!”

“Please, guide us!”

A great number of people were moved, raising their hands toward the castle and shouting.

Their expressions were earnest, like devoted followers.

“She must be a sister from the Eastern Star Church. The emblem of the scales and gavel is the mark of the Judiciary Faction, the ‘Ballista.'”

“Ballista?”

“Yeah, one of the three factions of the Eastern Star Church. But they lost the power struggle to the Doctrine Faction and are now scattered across the continent.”

“Then what is that sister doing here?”

“Who knows? But whatever it is, they’re definitely up to something.”

Zoan himself was not an Eastern Star believer, but his home country, the Azalash City-State, had many followers.

They had a somewhat decadent air and were generally positive about the prophecy.

A sister who opposed it was likely from a different sect.

Zoan guessed she belonged to a minority faction.

“—Next, that group over there. Those are the nomads from the northern plains of the Empire.”

Drow pointed toward a uniquely shaped tent.

Two men stood in front of it.

Their clothing was unusual—they wore loose-fitting garments that covered their entire bodies, despite it being summer.

“The nomads from the plains? You mean from the Rosham region? That’s an incredible distance from here!”

The journey from Rosham to Bangwall was more than six times the distance between Ortenatris and Bangwall.

Even for Zoan and his group, it had taken several days just to travel from Ortenatris to Bangwall.

He wondered how they had managed to come so far.

“They must have flown here using magic weaving. The nomads are warriors by nature—it wouldn’t be surprising if they had such skills.”

“Wait, isn’t that a technique used by those with magic power? But why would the nomads care about the fall of Bangwall?”

“…Hmm, I have a guess, but… no, that would be too dangerous to say.”

“If it’s dangerous, then don’t say it. I’d rather not get involved with noble affairs.”

Drow hesitated, debating whether to speak.

It was likely information that should not be shared.

Zoan, who had fled from noble conflicts, had no desire to get entangled in such matters again.

But then, Drow made up his mind.

“No! You’re my benefactor, so I’ll tell you! Zoan, keep this strictly off the record, alright?”

“Wait a minute! I really don’t want to hear this…”

“Gahaha! No need to be shy. Listen, up until recently, there was a secret engagement being arranged between Saint Shalka and a certain noble lady of the Rosham family. But for some reason, the Rosham family suddenly canceled it.”

Drow casually revealed what seemed to be classified information.

Hearing this unwanted revelation, Zoan felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

“Hey! I said I didn’t want to know!”

“The reason is unclear. But as you know, soon after that, Saint Shalka got into that massive fight with Naia. The Rosham family must be feeling like they let a big catch get away.”

Zoan’s protests were in vain as Drow continued talking.

“Hey! Stop continuing so casually!”

“…Those guys don’t seem like they’re here to apologize.”

Drow muttered, watching the nomads outside the tent.

They were tending to their weapons.

“…Wait, don’t tell me they’re planning to start a fight?”

“It’s possible. In fact, some of them look like they specialize in that—like that one over there.”

Zoan followed Drow’s gaze and saw a man wrapped in a black cloak, crouching on the ground.

A vagabond, perhaps?

Lately, he had noticed more of them, but since such sights were common in slums, he hadn’t paid them much attention.

“That guy? He just looks like a homeless drifter to me.”

“Well, normally, yes. But that kind of subtle wrongness isn’t something you can ignore… That’s an assassin.”

“A-An assassin?!”

“Gahaha! I don’t know who he belongs to, but he might be planning something here in Bangwall. Don’t stare at him too much.”

“……”

Zoan gulped.

Drow laughed heartily while talking about assassins, making Zoan question his sanity.

“Well, the biggest threat right now is still the Ortenos Judiciary Office.”

“Huh? The Judiciary Office? But this is Saint Shalka’s domain. There’s no way they’d have influence here!”

—Five years ago, an incident had brought Shalka into conflict with the Judiciary Office.

At the time, the Judiciary Office had attempted to massacre the refugees and immigrants who had gathered in the blessed land of Ortenatris.

The beastmen were the first to be rounded up, and just as a Judiciary noble was about to unleash magic upon them, Shalka had thrown herself in the way to shield them.

The sight of that moment was still burned into Zoan’s memory.

“Gahaha! Too bad for you, but the Judiciary Office is already here!”

“Haha, you’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m serious.”

Drow’s expression showed no sign of deceit.

A cold sweat ran down Zoan’s back.

“Wh-Why would they be here?”

“In the short term, they probably want to interfere with the ceasefire negotiations. In the long term, they’re likely eyeing this land of Bangwall.”

The Judiciary Office was trying to snatch away Shalka’s achievements.

A surge of anger rose within Zoan.

The Judiciary’s methods were utterly unjust.

“This is ridiculous…”

“Well, it just means they can’t ignore Saint Shalka’s influence anymore.”

“…Are you saying the Judiciary Office plans to confront Saint Shalka again?”

Conflicts between nobles were disasters for commoners.

During the clash between Shalka and the Judiciary Office five years ago, those caught in the middle—Zoan included—had been crushed by the sheer pressure of the Judiciary nobles.

Only a few had remained conscious, and they later described seeing Shalka physically stopping the noble’s rampage, likening it to the legend of the hero Seymour.

But the destruction left behind had been horrifying.

“Yeah… Depending on how things go, this place might turn into a battlefield.”

At that moment, a distant explosion rang out, followed by screams.

Turning toward the sound, Zoan saw black smoke rising from one of the tents.

A creeping sense of impending doom filled the air.