Siegfried Fors
Charred earth stretched before us like a scar upon the land. I stood beside Granny near the edge of the blackened field, where the land still smoldered in silence. Around us, a crowd of villagers had gathered, faces drawn, clothes stained with soot and soil, eyes filled with a quiet desperation.
Lady Borg stood beside us, her expression unreadable. Granny stood between us, calm but purposeful. The seven knights who had accompanied us were fanned out in a protective semicircle, alert, armored, and silent. Their presence was less comforting and more... calculated.
Granny didn't speak a word. With a firm motion, she reached into her magic pouch and pulled out a large barrel, almost as tall as her. It thudded heavily on the ground. Murmurs rose around us as the crowd leaned forward.
"This is an alchemical regeneration solution," she declared, her voice carrying over the murmurs. "Spray it over the scorched land, evenly. It won't restore it overnight, but it will give the soil a fighting chance."
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances, hesitating. It was understandable, if a stranger suddenly appeared and started barking orders, anyone would be wary.
Lady Borg stepped forward and raised her voice, firm yet reassuring.
"Everyone, please do as she says. The woman before you is a Master Alchemist, my aunt, from Fors Barony. She's the most trustworthy person I know."
At her words, the tension broke. Several villagers quickly stepped forward, bowing and offering thanks before hurrying off with carts and buckets to haul away the barrels.
I turned away from the crowd, eyes falling back to the land. The noise of discussion and orders fading behind me as I walked toward the edge of the burned farmland.
Even if the solution worked... it'd still take two, maybe three months for the land to heal. It was already the middle of the fifth month. If it healed by the seventh, and they planted something immediately... maybe, maybe, they'd make it to Harvest Month in time. But even then, would it be enough? Vegetables and roots might grow fast, but not enough to feed an entire barony through winter.
Too little, too late.
I exhaled slowly and raised my eyes. The lord's manor was perched uphill in the distance, like a silent overseer watching its domain fall apart. A winding road stretched from its gates, and on either side of it, the land had been partitioned neatly into six farmlots each, twelve in total. Different crops for each.
We stood near the right-side fields. They were completely gone. Nothing remained but skeletal trees and the husks of homes once nestled near the edge, blackened and collapsed. On the other side, the left fields had suffered too, but not as badly. Some strips of land still clung to green. I narrowed my eye, the one not hidden by my eyepatch, and poured mana into it, sharpening my vision.
The houses near the left fields... they were untouched. Not even scorched.
So lucky.
"Young Lord."
The voice startled me. I looked down and realized I'd wandered all the way to the edge of the road, one foot nearly slipping into the left fields' burned section.
I turned and saw him, the crimson-eyed knight. The red haired one from before.
He gave a graceful bow. "Please don't go too far," he said, smiling like we were acquaintances and not strangers.
Too handsome, I thought immediately, almost annoyed by it.
I crossed my arms. "I'm free to go wherever I want."
"Then let me accompany you, my lord," he offered without missing a beat.
I stared at him. "I've never seen you at the barony before."
"We're usually stationed on the outer borders, on watch duty," he replied smoothly. "It's no wonder the young lord hasn't noticed us."
A white lie, I thought, watching him. Grandpa once told me Silas was the only officially knighted man under our territory. Knighthood required the blessing of a count or higher. Even Silas had earned his title during the monster stampede years ago, knighted by the previous Count Hansen himself.
So where had these new knights come from all of a sudden?
I narrowed my eyes. "What's your name?"
"It's Ashar, my lord."
"…Hmm." I turned away and began walking toward the left farmland. "Then follow me, if you want to."
My boots whispered against the dusty path as I veered toward the left-side fields. Ashar's footsteps followed, careful and measured, like he didn't want to offend the ground.
As we neared the farmlands, I came to a slow halt at the edge of the rise. Six wide fields stretched across the gentle slope, but only two remained untouched. The leftmost corner and the one above it shimmered gold with standing wheat, their stalks tall and defiant, as if they hadn't noticed the inferno that had consumed their siblings. The other four… were blackened, barren. Stripped to nothing.
Ashar stepped up beside me, his voice low, like he was talking to himself. "Is it alright to leave these crops like this?"
I didn't answer immediately. My eye drifted over the remaining wheat, not yet mature. Their green-gold heads still too young to harvest. It was too early in the year. Fifth month, mid-way through the growing season.
"They haven't matured yet," I said at last, my voice flat, but not unkind.
"I mean…" he hesitated, "wouldn't keeping them on burned land hurt these crops too?"
He wasn't wrong.
I exhaled through my nose, my arms crossing. Granny had checked earlier, the heat from the fire could've sunk below the surface. Roots might be cooking right now, slow and silent. Some of these plants would wilt in days. Others might hold on, only to wither from within.
I tilted my head toward him, half-shrugging. "It'll be fine," I said.
It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the truth either. It was just easier than explaining something that was uncertain.
I turned back the way we came, walking past the untouched wheat. The path brought us to the edge of the burned field.
As I passed, my eyes drifted across the uneven surface... then stopped.
Something caught my eye.
I leaned in.
Ashar called out, "Is something wrong, young lord?"
I didn't respond. Instead, I walked into the field.
My boots sinking into the brittle ash. The smell clung to the air, sharp and dry, like everything here had already given up. Behind me, Ashar called out.
"Young Lord…? Please be careful."
The words faded as I kept walking.
The ground shifted beneath me, uneven from collapsed soil and charred roots. I stopped near one of the thick dirt ridges that divided the fields. Irrigation lines. The kind farmers spent years shaping by hand.
There, at top of it, something dark cut across the ridge.
A shape.
A mark burned so deep it carved through dirt.
My breath eased out in a quiet murmur. "What is this…?"
Up close, it was clearer. A large black imprint with four elongated grooves branching forward. The structure didn't looked random. It wasn't debris.
"Is that… a pawprint?"
Ashar's footsteps finally caught up, slow and cautious. When I glanced back, he leaned forward slightly, studying the ground.
"Pawprint?" I repeated.
He nodded. "From the shape, it resembles a reptilian beast."
Reptilian...
I lowered my hand toward the print, hovering just above the ridges. The size alone was unsettling. Twice as large as my own hand. Maybe more.
"Are beasts like this used for farming? Or kept anywhere in the barony?"
Ashar exhaled and straightened, uncertainty clouding his expression. "Not that I know of. I have never heard of a creature like this being raised for work."
My gaze drifted across the ruined land. Burned crops. Destroyed homes. The strange untouched patches.
Pieces that did not match.
Hmm… maybe…
I turned to Ashar with a small, almost harmless smile. "Can you help me with something?"
His posture stiffened. Slight hesitation.
"…Of course, young lord."
The next twenty minutes passed slowly. He walked in widening circles, searching the scorched soil. Ashar sifted ash with his sheath, and I stood near the ridge, watching him work.
Finally, he stopped.
"Young Lord."
I walked over.
"This is the only other print," he said quietly. "Right at the edge of the field leading toward the road."
Just two prints.
One deep in the destroyed farmland.
One at the exit.
"I heard the eastern wall was burned," I asked.
"Yes, the eastern side. A large part was burned and a hole was made in the wall." He turned, pointing east, somewhere past the right fields, too far to see from here.
My thoughts spun quietly. The fire had moved fast. But not everywhere. On the left side, two farms had survived. But on the right, everything was burned. Even the houses were damaged, and the eastern wall had been scorched.
"Did young lord figure something out?" Ashar's voice nudged me gently from my thoughts. His smile was laced with curiosity, and despite the soot and sweat painting his face, there was something infuriatingly radiant about him in that moment, like a knight from a storybook who'd taken one too many wrong turns and ended up digging carrots for a child.
I turned my eyes back to the distant black fields. "…I don't know. I just… feel like the fire wasn't intentional."
He stepped a little closer, eyes glinting with intrigue.
"It's hard to explain," I said, not sure myself. "The damage is too uneven. If someone wanted to burn the fields, why didn't they destroy all of them? Why are there survivors? And the houses, why only on one side? Unless someone had a personal reason, it doesn't make sense. And the eastern wall…" My voice lowered. "Why burn it if nothing came through it?"
Ashar stood straighter, one finger curling under his lip in thoughtful stillness.
"…It does sound random," he said slowly, "but it could be intentional, just in a different way."
He looked down at me, crimson eyes gleaming. "Maybe the culprit wanted it to seem random. Maybe they did it to cause chaos. Confuse everyone. Panic makes people scatter. And in that confusion, it's easier to disappear."
His theory wasn't far from mine. And if that were true…
I frowned. "So you think the culprit's already left the barony?"
"I do," he said calmly. "That's likely why Lord Borg hasn't been focusing too much on tracking them down. From what I heard, the fire mages in the territory all had alibis, and they've been accounted for. The assumption is that whoever did this used the opening in the wall, while everyone was in chaos."
I stiffened slightly. Those were Lord Borg's exact words. Had Ashar overheard the morning meeting? Or had someone told him? Either way… it lined up.
Still, something felt wrong.
"Then…" I said, narrowing my gaze. "What about the mana traces?"
I shifted, folding my arms tightly. "Then what about the fact that there's no mana residue left behind? Not even from a magic tool. Fires that big don't start themselves, and even magic tools leave behind something. But there's nothing. Not a trace."
Ashar's expression didn't change.
"…That can be answered too."
My eyes snapped toward him. "How?"
He nodded slowly. "Young lord, can you sense Lady Valka's mana?"
I paused. The question caught me off guard.
Ever since my awakening, I'd become attuned to mana in the air, in people. I could sense the mana from all the soldiers back home, the villagers, even Grandpa and Granny. But Mother? Zayn?
Nothing.
It was like they didn't even have mana.
Ashar gave a knowing smile. "Some people… their mana is too refined, too deeply concealed. Beyond normal sensing. Lady Valka is likely one of them. And I don't believe any mage in this barony has the talent to detect someone like that."
I didn't back down and I kept pushing. "Then what about these paw prints?"
"True, that's a little concerning, but how could a beast appear out of nowhere in a barony? It couldn't have walked in through the front gate; there's a chance these marks were made by something else."
His voice was steady, confident, too confident. I didn't like how plausible it all sounded.
I stared at him, mouth slightly open. No rebuttal came.
Because I couldn't refute it.
Could someone as strong as Mother or Zayn have done something like this?
Would someone at that level stoop to burning farmland?
Great mages—especially those at Delta Stage or higher—were sought after by courts, armies, even research institutes. They didn't need to cause chaos in baronies to get attention. In the Merlinus Dukedom alone, their services were practically auctioned.
So… who would waste such talent here?
Why would someone like that come all the way to this quiet corner of Aethelgia… just to start a fire?
I remembered the conversation I had with my family before coming to Borg Barony, about someone forcing the Borgs into a corner and making them owe a debt.
"Maybe someone did send a powerful mage," I murmured to myself. "But why?"
Ashar glanced up at the sky. "We should return. Lady Fors and the others might be waiting."
"…Right," I said quietly. "Let's go."
There was no point in overthinking it. This wasn't our barony. The Borgs would figure out the rest. We were here to help with healing the land, supplying rations, and moving on.
As Ashar and I began walking, my thoughts refused to settle. They kept drifting back to everything I'd seen, pawprints, blackened ruins of houses, a wall scorched at the edge like it had been clawed by flame.
"Sieg."
Granny and Lady Borg were walking toward us down the hill path, wind catching their robes, making them flutter like flags. Granny's eyes immediately scanned me, a little sharper than usual. They flicked, just briefly, to Ashar standing behind me, before settling back on my face.
"And where have you been wandering off to?" she asked, not unkindly, but with that firm edge I'd come to know far too well.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and answered lightly, "Just… looking around."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, but didn't push further.
I looked toward the right field. "How's the land?"
Granny exhaled through her nose. "Under my instruction, they're carefully applying the salve. We've used it in worse places, it'll help. Still… it'll be a while before this soil remembers what it means to breathe."
Lady Borg nodded. "We're heading back for lunch. Will you be joining us?"
Before I could answer, a loud voice rang out from the manor road.
"Fuuuaa!"
Everyone turned. Down the path came a tiny figure sprinting with little legs, arms flailing.
"Mama!"
James flung himself into Lady Borg's arms. My gaze shifted, irritably, upward.
Perched smugly on his head was Faux.
The little bastard had been sticking to James like a flea since yesterday... ever since that fruit incident. If he liked him that much, I wouldn't mind leaving him here permanently. He isn't of much use anyway. High-level spirits are supposed to have a range of abilities. Faux had two, and one of them was sleeping.
"James," Lady Borg laughed, brushing his hair, "Did you come to fetch us?"
He nodded eagerly. "Papa and Grandfather are waiting for lunch."
Granny made a thoughtful hum. "Then we'd best not keep them waiting."
The path to the mansion stretched ahead of us, sun-drenched and quiet. I walked with the group, but my thoughts still swam.
Suddenly everything stopped.
The world around me didn't freeze exactly, but it slowed, the sounds dimming like someone had pressed fingers into my ears.
But then, without warning,
The world buzzed.
A static hum crawled under my skin. I stopped walking and it became difficult to breath.
Then everything around me shimmered.
The world was blanketed in color.
Wrapping each person in a haze of light.
James stood ahead, surrounded in warm orange light. Faux, still lounging lazily atop his head, shimmered with soft white. Lady Borg glowed yellow, like morning sunlight through a curtain.
"Sieg?" Granny's voice broke through, sharp and distant.
I turned slowly,
She was blue.
A deep, brilliant blue, like the sea right before a storm.
The same thing had happened two years ago, I realized. The day I met Faux. That same color-vision. That same quiet hum in my skull.
And there it was.
A line of green.
A thin, slithering trail of emerald light glided before me, winding forward through the air like a serpent searching for its den. It shimmered with a strange pull, neither gentle nor forceful, but certain.
"Young lord?" Ashar's voice now.
"Sieg?" Granny again.
Their voices sounded muffled, distant. My heart pounded in my chest, not from fear, but instinct. Something called to me.
Without thinking, I stepped forward, drawn by a truth hidden in emerald haze.