CHAPTER 10 The Temple of the Blue Vines (Part 2)

The healing from a real cleric was definitely more effective than magic. Even after just one treatment, most of Khazar’s wounds were nearly gone. Still, the healer insisted he return for two more days of treatment.

While Khazar waited his turn to be healed, Ernolf shut himself in the temple’s library, buried in books.

Even aside from his lineage, a magician was expected to know several ancient and medieval languages—essential for reading old magical texts.

“The vocabulary and grammar are a bit different, but it’s not unreadable.”

Using a speed-reading technique, Ernolf quickly read books about regional monsters, herbology, and local history.

One priest assumed Ernolf was just flipping through illustrations like a bored child. But in truth, Ernolf was absorbing every word.

When Khazar finished and came to find him, Ernolf still had his nose in a book. Khazar didn’t disturb him—he just sat nearby and quietly watched.

“Is reading really that fun?”

Though it looked like Ernolf was skimming, he was radiating satisfaction. Khazar could feel that emotion clearly.

As the sun began to set, a priest came to remind Ernolf that the library was closing.

“Apologies. I’ll clean up right away.”

Only then did Ernolf realize the enormous pile of books he’d surrounded himself with.

Struggling to carry them back, his arms shook from the weight. Khazar stepped in.

“Just tell me where they go. I’ll put them back.”
“Good idea. This kind of thing suits your strength better.”

As Ernolf pointed to each shelf, Khazar swiftly placed the books back. His strength was reassuring.

“So… were the books worth reading?”
“Yeah. They were alright.”

The books were written in a mix of ancient northern dialects and the Sarafi Empire’s language. While there were unfamiliar words, the context made it understandable.

But when Ernolf said “alright,” Khazar chuckled, assuming his brother couldn’t actually read.

“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just… you say that like you know how to read.”
“I told you, I’ll figure it out eventually. I awakened magic on my own—reading’s nothing compared to that.”

Khazar wanted to argue that magic and literacy weren’t the same… but held his tongue. Who knew what hidden powers a self-awakened magician could possess?

“So what did you read about?”
“A bit of everything. Regional history, herbs, monsters…”

As they chatted while walking down a hallway, Khazar suddenly yanked Ernolf behind a pillar and pointed toward the courtyard.

“What’s going on?”
“Look there. I think they’re looking for us.”

Two men, clearly swordsmen by their stance, were questioning a priest. The priest smiled and pointed to the second floor—the library.

Ernolf noticed Khazar quietly drawing a dagger from beneath his clothes.

Before Khazar could act, Ernolf struck first—using earth magic to trip one of the men just as a noblewoman was walking past.

He then used wind magic to flip the noblewoman’s skirt—causing it to fall over the man’s head.

Next, a gust of wind knocked the second man into a maid, and they collapsed in a heap.

“Kyaa!”
“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Screams and slaps followed.

“What are you waiting for?! Restrain these shameless pigs!”

The noblewoman, red-faced with rage, demanded they be arrested. Guards arrived and pointed spears at the men.

“Tsk tsk… harassing a noblewoman? They must be mad.”

Ernolf clucked his tongue like an old man and calmly walked away.

“We need to hit the market before dark—get some fabric and find an inn.”

Khazar shook his head and sheathed his knife, amused. In this era, even showing a woman’s ankle was taboo. What Ernolf had done was scandalous.

‘Wait… did Tihrad see her legs too? Or was it just me?’

After confirming the two men were dragged off, Khazar followed Ernolf.

“Those guys earlier—were they from the same group chasing you before?”

While picking out fabrics, Ernolf asked casually.

“Didn’t seem like tribal warriors. What are they?”

Ernolf held a cloth up to Khazar’s frame and decided on a different color. He wanted to brighten Khazar’s gloomy personality, but the dyeing techniques of the time were limited.

They ended up buying some dark wool and yellowish cotton, then headed to a leather vendor to get cowhide for belts, gloves, and boots—all paid for from Khazar’s coin pouch.

“Mercenary company.”

At those words, Ernolf paused. He recalled stories about a notorious mercenary group—ones tied to King Khazar’s bloody past.

‘Most of the members were executed, and the mercenary king himself—once a famous knight—was ripped apart and fed to hounds.’

It was so gruesome that as a child, Ernolf had nightmares and avoided dogs for a while.

“How’d you get involved with mercs?”
“Ran into them while escaping some tribal warriors.”

Even without hearing the full story, Ernolf could picture what happened. The two sides must’ve clashed, and casualties followed.

‘And I probably killed a few while trying to save this guy. No wonder they’re hunting us.’

At the time, Ernolf had mistaken them for Cornu tribe warriors and fought with all he had.

He’d passed out afterward and didn’t know the truth until now.

“You killed people. Paying them back won’t be enough.”
“Could you even pay if you wanted to?”

Ernolf shook his head. They had nothing of real value.

“Then we’ll just have to avoid them for a while.”
“Yeah… I guess.”

Khazar’s answer felt a bit off, but Ernolf didn’t press. He felt bad about involving Khazar in the mess.

‘Why did Khazar kill the mercenary king again? Oh right… it had to do with some noble.’

Ernolf couldn’t recall the name, but the noble was beloved by the locals. When Khazar killed him, the mercenary king Cassion tried to arrest him.

But then a demon helped Khazar escape—and he returned to take brutal revenge on everyone who tried to punish him.

‘Let’s hope those guys weren’t from Cassion’s company.’

After dropping the fabric and leather off with craftsmen, they headed to an inn.

The next morning, before visiting the temple, Ernolf dragged Khazar to a barbershop.

Khazar’s hair had never been properly cut—it stuck out wildly, giving him a primitive look. Even after washing, he still looked unkempt.

He trimmed his hair short out of annoyance. Ernolf, on the other hand, kept his long but cleaned and styled—partly because most magicians preferred long hair, and partly to differentiate himself from Khazar, since they were identical twins.

After a good wash and a neat haircut, Tihrad’s appearance stood out more. Like Khazar, he had well-balanced, attractive features—but his demeanor was more thoughtful, his eyes deep and intelligent.

‘He’s skinny, but still handsome. Well, of course—he’s my twin.’

Tihrad’s hair was dark as obsidian, and his bright green eyes sparkled against his pale skin. A clean forehead, sharp brows, elegant nose, and slightly thin lips gave him a noble, intellectual aura.

‘He might even look better than my original body…’

Still staring, Ernolf muttered to himself. Just then, Khazar approached, brushing hair off his shoulders.

“Why are you staring like that?”
“Just thinking how surprised our mother would be to see us like this.”

He meant it as a joke about their ragged clothes.

If their mother were alive, she’d surely scold them: “What kind of heir to the House of Torrier looks like that?!”

But Ernolf quickly shut his mouth, realizing what he’d said.

“You don’t even remember her—why bring her up…”

Khazar replied curtly, his tone sharp. Ernolf regretted his words.

If they’d been sold into slavery as children, their parents were likely dead—or, if alive, had been separated from them.

“Once we get proper clothes, we’ll finally look like decent people again.”

They walked toward the temple. Ernolf tried to cheer up the mood.

“Clothes will take three days, so we’ll stay here till then. For today, let’s get treatment, then go hunting this afternoon. We can train and earn a little.”

Khazar didn’t respond. Normally, even if he grumbled, he’d have something to say. Now he was silent.

“If you don’t want to go to the temple, we could hunt first—”
“Shut up. You’re so damn loud in the morning.”
“What? Why are you angry?”
“Just shut it.”

Khazar snapped and walked ahead in silence. Mentioning their mother had clearly struck a nerve.

“Can’t you say things more nicely?”
“How the hell do you say ‘shut up’ nicely?”
“Try saying ‘I want some peace and quiet.’”
“Shut up.”

Ernolf, raised as a noble, wasn’t used to dealing with someone so foul-mouthed. Even knowing Khazar didn’t mean it personally, it still made him angry.