Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard - Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard chapter 39

39 – Episode 39

# 39

Once Ian made his decision, he immediately took action.

Ian noticed that the mercenaries were fond of his “potion” to the extent of being suspicious.

This was the average sensibility of people in this era; both medicine and magical elixirs were treated as precious commodities, given the scarcity of the age.

I’ll say it again, this medieval era is in line with the post-apocalyptic world.

Not looting a pharmacy in the post-apocalyptic era? It’s like refusing to live long.

Medicine is useful and precious. That’s why people go crazy for it…!

“Lucy, ask the viscount to gather some salt for me.”

“Salt?”

Lucy tilted her head at Ian’s request but moved as instructed.

Because Ian was a magician, there was a thought that he must have something in mind.

Lucy, combining forces with the viscount, presented a considerable amount of salt. Although salt was an expensive commodity, many people carried it around as it was an essential item.

Once the salt gathered, Ian brought a large pot, inserted his own spoon, and began to boil it vigorously.

The mercenaries quickly showed interest in the magician’s actions.

“Is the magician making magic potions again?”

“Well, even if he does, he’ll only use it himself.”

The mercenaries had always thought that Ian monopolized magic potions on his own.

There was discontent, but there was no complaint. No mercenary was insane enough to get angry just because someone used the potion they made themselves.

As onlookers gathered, Ian performed a convincing show, chanting Maronius’ incantation.

“[Fire! Rise up!]”

Boom!

As the flames suddenly roared from the boiling pot, the mercenaries lost half of their composure and screamed.

“Wow!”

“Th-this is real magic!”

The mercenaries only knew that Ian was brewing a magic potion with the crow’s beak; they had no idea he could control the flames as well.

With skillful hands brewing the magic potion, Ian earned the admiration of the mercenaries.

The making of a potion with magical flames!

Indeed, he is a magician!

“What’s that noise outside?”

“The magician is making a magical potion right now!”

“Again? Is the noble going to sell it this time too?”

Before anyone realized, around a hundred mercenaries surrounded Ian. Since Ian had intentionally prepared a performance, it was natural that more spectators gathered than usual.

“Hmm…”

Pretending to memorize a magic spell, Ian shouted loudly in Korean.

“The East Sea and Baekdu Mountain, until they dry up and wither away!”

“Ooooh!”

“It’s the magician’s magic spell!”

“I can’t understand a single thing!”

The mercenaries were captivated by Ian’s magical performance as if they were enchanted.

With the attention of the surroundings focused on him, Ian put the gathered salt into the pot and boiled it vigorously.

There were exactly three things in the pot.

Water, a spoon, and salt.

Contrary to the mercenaries’ belief, no magical power emanated from the spoon. In the end, it was just water boiled with added salt.

“Ho.”

However, while Ian boiled ordinary saltwater, he presented it as if he had infused it with magical power, creating an optical illusion in his eyes.

So… what Ian made was a fake magical potion.

“I never thought I’d become a real quack.”

In the past, in an era shrouded in the darkness of ignorance, the swindlers known as “quacks” would travel with orchestras and circus troupes, capturing people’s attention and peddling fake medicine by spreading lies that their elixirs were unparalleled panaceas.

Unaware and innocent, people would pay a hefty price for these fake remedies, believing that the quack’s concoctions were truly precious.

They would carefully keep the purchased fake medicine as if it were a precious treasure…

When a loved one fell seriously ill, they would arrogantly administer the medicine!

“Here, drink this! The quack said so! Just take this, and all your ailments will vanish!”

People awaited the miraculous recovery as the quack had promised. But of course, the illness did not disappear, and people belatedly realized that they had been deceived…

Enraged, they chased after the quacks, grabbing them by the collar and shouting, “Hey, you swindler! Where are you selling (fake) medicine?”

Since then, the peddlers of medicine became swindlers.

“Medicine” came to mean a shoddy item that, although appearing legitimate, was actually nothing more than trash.

EX) A: Is Jungle Teemo viable? B: Where are you selling medicine, you quack!

But Ian had to sell medicine now.

If selling medicine could lift the gloomy atmosphere of the camp, then why couldn’t he sell such trivial medicine?

“Hey, you. Come forward.”

“Me…? Are you talking to me?”

Ian singled out the closest mercenary, summoning him.

The mercenary, bewildered and apprehensive, gazed at Ian.

“Feeling restless and under the weather lately, aren’t you?”

“That, that’s…”

“Even when eating, the taste is bland, and ominous thoughts keep popping up, don’t they?”

In response to Ian’s question, the mercenary nodded in surprise.

“Y-yes! But how did you…?”

At the right moment, Oberon howled.

“Kaak! Kaak!”

“Hiiiiik!”

Ian casually spoke as if it was nothing significant.

“Observing the movement of the sky, I sensed an unsettling energy spreading through the army.”

“Oh, my goodness!”

Of course, it was a lie.

Observing the movement of the sky? That’s something for followers of celestial religions to investigate. Ian was just spinning a plausible story to fit the situation.

With no looting and only marching, the mood was bound to be bad. Since a battle would soon occur, the fear of death would surely spoil their appetites.

A kind of primitive – big data. A human chat GPT of this fantasy world, so to speak.

It had skills that could be understood if you knew the method, but unfortunately, mercenaries were people of the medieval fantasy world. They didn’t even know about Chat GPT, let alone Akinator.

“Take this potion with you.”

“This is…?”

“The [Elixir of Vitality].”

“W-what did you say?”

“I said it’s a potion that brings vitality.”

Ian smiled and said,

“I made this item specifically because I thought you were suffering from the negative energy. Please use it carefully.”

“Master Mage…!”

The mercenaries were moved by Ian’s words and had expressions filled with emotion.

Why did we waste firewood boiling spoons until now… The big picture that Ian drew was to make and distribute magical potions!

Indeed, he is a master mage!

“Thank you! Thank you, Master Mage!”

The mercenaries hurriedly filled the magic potion that Ian had brewed into their leather water bags.

Curious mercenaries approached Ian and asked questions.

“But what is this potion used for…”

“Use it when you need vitality. If you’ve sweat a lot and feel exhausted in the middle of summer, drink it, and if you have wounds where blood is flowing, apply it. It will prevent the wounds from becoming infected.”

“Wow!”

The claim that this saltwater is a magic potion is a lie. However, the ‘effects’ that Ian mentioned are not lies.

The reason is simple, the ‘potion of vitality’ was just saltwater.

Feeling dizzy from sweating too much? – Replenish fluid and salt.

Got wounded? – Antiseptic properties.

The effects may be mediocre, but in a medieval fantasy world boasting post-apocalyptic levels of medical technology, saltwater alone is an excellent first aid.

There is also the placebo effect that it must be good for the body because it has some vague magic in it.

Ian shouted loudly towards the mercenaries who were distributing the ‘potion of vitality’.

“Warriors, listen up! His Lordship, the Count, is already aware of your hardships! While we understand your frustration at not being able to claim the spoils of victory, his merciful Lordship does not want the people of Talien to suffer!”

The mercenaries stopped what they were doing and looked at Ian.

“So, the commander has instructed us to create a magic potion for you! Forget your regrets and prepare for the upcoming battle! If we win, our gracious leader will reward us generously!”

“Wowww!”

The mercenaries cheered fervently at Ian’s speech. They were eager to get their hands on valuable magic potions, even if it meant giving up on looting.

The morale of the Count’s troops soared once again.

“Hail to the Count!”

“Hail to the magician Ian!”

#

While the soldiers’ morale had been lifted, Ian’s work was not yet done.

Ian led a few mercenaries and went around the village, spreading ominous rumors.

“Caw! Caw!”

“Why is that crazy crow screeching like that… Eek!”

When they came across a human with a crow perched on their shoulder, holding a staff, the ordinary farmers immediately got agitated.

Encountering a magician was a severe shock even for the bravest. It was written in the textbooks.

It was the reality shock of encountering a magician.

Huh? Huh? A magician? Why?

“Magician…?”

“Oh! This is Ian Eredis Raven, the disciple of the great magician Eredis!”

From Noble mtl dot com

“Oh, goodness! I apologize for not recognizing such a famous person due to my ignorance! I’ve committed a grave mistake!”

In reality, it was the farmers who were normal. It was actually abnormal not to recognize Ian.

“I never had a chance to become famous, how would you recognize me?”

If you recognize that, you must be a sorcerer.

“Master Mage, should I show that arrogant guy who’s in charge here?”

Hold back.

“Yes!”

The mercenaries who received the magic potion became fervent followers of Ian.

They came to realize that despite his eccentric appearance, he was actually a kind and rational thinker.

Ian spoke to the farmer in a solemn voice.

“The reason I’ve come to find you is to warn you of the impending disaster in the future.”

“D-disaster?”

“That’s right. Because an evil force has engulfed this land, the barley will no longer grow, and the wheat will rot from its roots.”

“…!”

The farmer was taken aback by Ian’s warning.

For the farmer, farming was everything. To live and die by farming was the essence of being a farmer.

But to hear a prophecy of farming’s demise…?

“W-why is that?”

Ian, like a seasoned wizard, gazed at the sky with a serious expression, then spoke in a grave voice.

“It’s because the vengeful spirit of the ousted Talien Viscount is enraged by the unjust seizure of his land.”

“… What? The Viscount is angry with me?”

Ian kindly explained how despicable the usurper, Grim, was and how legitimate Luci Talien was as the rightful owner of this land.

In truth, the uneducated farmer did not fully comprehend Ian’s words. What could a mere farmer know about the power struggles of nobles?

However, one thing was certain…

The wandering mercenary who had taken over the land of Talian might ruin this year’s harvest!

“But don’t worry too much. If Lucy Talian succeeds the viscountcy and performs the ancestral rites, the wrath of the former viscount will also dissipate.”

“Ah, then…”

“A war will break out soon. If the usurper wins, abandon this land and flee.”

“…”

“My warning ends here.”

Clang! Clang!

As Ovren wailed, the farmer trembled in fear.

He couldn’t know if Ian’s warning was true or not. He was just a simple farmer with no such ability.

But the seed of unease had certainly been planted.

Ian returned to the viscount’s formation with a smile.

#

For the past few days, Ian had been acting as a magician.

He had been running his mouth non-stop.

Selling fake magic potions to the mercenaries, spreading black propaganda among the farmers…

Since there was no way to distinguish whether Ian’s words were true or false, people in the medieval fantasy world easily trusted Ian to an absurd extent.

When a magician deliberately casts spells and spreads lies, how could they not be deceived?

“Master Magician! Did you sleep well?”

“Sure. Did you sleep well?”

“Thanks to the magician who drove away the bad energy, I slept like a log!”

The mercenaries who used to fear Ian had now become his followers.

“Ian! Look at this! The villagers are offering food!”

“Food? Who threatened them to send it?”

“No one! They willingly offered it!”

Lucy said with a bright smile.

“People are saying you’re the real Talien Count!”

“Oh, really. That’s nice.”

“hehehe. See, Ian! Even these little bugs know I’m the authentic count! So, I guess it’s okay for me to open my ancestors’ tomb…”

…”

Whether it was the rumors spread by Ian or not, the people of Talien began to doubt the infamous Graeme.

They hoped Lucy would become the count, and Graeme would be ousted.

It was to avoid the ominous warning of the magician.

Thanks to Ian’s skillful rumors, the count’s army marched confidently with high morale towards Graeme’s stronghold.

Lucy was happy, the count was happy, and Ian was reasonably content.

However, those who harbored dissatisfaction with Ian’s actions began to voice their concerns one by one.

“That magician… isn’t he acting a bit too recklessly alone?”

It was the knights of the count who spoke up.