Chapter – 28
The atmosphere around them changed completely.
The mage’s raging hostility—once brimming with aggression—vanished like smoke.
The bandits’ anxiety, whose concern for whom was unclear, melted away like frost.
The villagers watching from afar looked as though they had encountered something incomprehensible, and even Iola, who had been ready to fight at any moment, wore a puzzled expression.
Everyone except Ranken was thrown into confusion. Only Ranken had a look that plainly said, “Here we go again…”
“A great detective…?”
“Even a crying child would stop crying…?”
The bandits chewed over the phrases Viretta had spoken, syllable by syllable. None of it made sense. It wasn’t something one would normally say in this situation.
“Why…? What exactly are you saying you’re going to solve?”
At a time like this—solve what?
The mage, unable to guess where she was going with this, took a stance to begin chanting. He suspected it might be a ploy to make him lower his guard.
But there were no signs of that. Even Iola, the most troublesome opponent present, simply listened to Viretta with a face that said she had no idea what to do.
“Obviously, the cute little mystery right in front of us. You’ve tried hard, I’m sure, but you can’t fool the eyes of an experienced detective like me.”
The bandit leader—who was also a mage—furrowed his brow. The scarred man leaned in and whispered, “That woman really knows how to get under people’s skin.”
So it was a stalling tactic?
Just as the mage began to lift his staff, Viretta seized the initiative.
“It’s not a bad deal, so at least hear me out, Mr. Moslin.”
“……”
Sparks of lightning crackled around the mage’s body—an omen that his emotions were about to erupt.
Viretta pulled out a large catalog from behind the stall.
[Mage Catalog].
She began flipping through it.
“I was actually on my way to find a mage. And if we’re talking about an elderly female lightning mage listed in the catalog, you’re the only one who fits.”
She stopped after turning only a few pages and scanned the section containing Moslin’s information.
“A prodigy who stood out from the age of fourteen. Even back then, no one could match her firepower. A combat mage who entered major battlefields starting at twenty. Participated in the Battle of Calaila, the Eastern Civil War, the Rose War abroad… and more.”
Voices murmured from behind.
“So impressive.”
“So the Flash of the Rose War was you, ma’am.”
Moslin lifted her chin proudly, clearly pleased.
Viretta lightly tapped the open page and smiled with her eyes.
“Point of note: a combat mage through and through. Magic outside of lightning—useless.”
“That’s hardly a flaw for a combat mage. Based on her record, she’d be someone my father would want to recruit.”
“No, Iola. That’s exactly why Ms. Moslin is here right now.”
Viretta gently refuted her. Iola stared at her in disbelief.
“If she truly is Moslin, the Flash of the Rose War, she could wipe out an entire unit by herself.”
“That may have been true in my youth. If you know who I am, then quietly back off. I won’t engage in meaningless slaughter.”
This wasn’t just some bandit leader. She was a genuine warrior—someone even a handful of mediocre mages wouldn’t stand a chance against.
Despite her age, she could still cast spells with vigor. Yet Viretta showed not a hint of fear. There was no reason for her to.
“Of course. Someone like you wouldn’t commit pointless slaughter. A mage listed in the Mage Catalog follows regulations. If you’d been killing civilians indiscriminately, your name would be in the Wanted Criminals Catalog, not the Mage Catalog.”
Being listed in the Mage Catalog meant being officially endorsed by the Guild.
They had done nothing wrong—there was no reason to fear someone like that. Viretta straightened her posture confidently.
“A mage who’s been certified for decades wouldn’t suddenly turn into a bandit.”
“You’re turning your eyes away from what’s right in front of you. What do I look like to you?”
“A mage hired by the village.”
The murmuring stopped instantly. That alone was answer enough.
Viretta continued in a gentle voice.
“First, if you were mercenaries settled in this region, you wouldn’t extort the villagers just because profits were low.”
You couldn’t run a business while extorting people you knew well. You might manage to act like local thugs, but not proper bandits.
“Second, if you were truly bandits, the villagers’ attitude would be far more hostile. Third, with this much commotion, neither the guard nor the militia has shown up at all.”
Ranken looked around. Sure enough, there was no sign of the guards or the village militia who should’ve been responsible for security.
“And fourth—you act cruel, but you’re soft enough that you were willing to let us go.”
Moslin maintained a neutral expression befitting a seasoned mage, but the bandits couldn’t hide it. Their faces grew paler with each point Viretta made.
When one man reached for his sword hilt, Iola shot him a sharp glare. He pulled his hand back as if burned.
“Given the situation, the answer is simple. Something happened, and the villagers asked a mercenary group to protect public order and collect taxes while pretending to be bandits.”
“Oh? And do you think villagers who can’t even protect their own town could afford to hire a mage as skilled as me?”
“They can. Because you’re cheaper than you think—eep!”
A bolt of lightning struck at Viretta’s feet.
Barely avoiding it by a hair’s breadth, Viretta clung to Iola’s shoulder—but she kept talking anyway.
“Female combat mages aren’t very popular. Resident mages have it better, but when it comes to escort jobs for merchants or mercenary groups, things get complicated. Having a woman among men means double the trouble—lodging, bathrooms, everything.”
“Well… that’s how it usually goes.”
Moslin curtly acknowledged the point.
“Of course, caravans with women or noble ladies sometimes hire a female mage. It looks better, and it’s easier to attend to the ladies.”
Small groups won’t take them, but large processions often will—and in those cases, female mages can even be preferred over male ones.
“But what they want then is a young woman who’s easy to give orders to. Average skill is more than enough.”
To serve noble ladies, youth mattered. Elderly women struggled with long marches.
Veteran resident mages were welcomed—but veteran combat mages were the opposite.
“Your skills are incredible, Ms. Moslin. But there’s no battlefield in Phillion that needs you. So it’s only natural that you’d become ‘cheaper than expected.’”
Even if a mage was ten or twenty times stronger than average, that didn’t mean they could demand ten or twenty times the pay.
If no one needed overwhelming strength, wages naturally dropped.
“So…”
Viretta spun lightly, stepped in front of Moslin, and raised her index finger.
“You were paid about enough to act as their leader, weren’t you?”
“……Tch.”
Moslin ground her teeth in frustration.
A veteran archmage with countless achievements admitted defeat to Viretta’s logic.
“No way…”
As every piece fell into place, Ranken—who had been standing off to the side like a spectator—let his jaw drop.
Ranken, who hadn’t trembled even when Moslin appeared, now looked like he’d witnessed something truly horrifying.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“No way. Viretta… Viretta is getting everything right…!”
“……”
“……”
A brief silence fell.
Moslin and Viretta both ignored Ranken with awkward expressions and continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.
“I don’t know where you were sent from, but you’ve got a sharp mind. Fine. You’re right.”
“Really?! See! I told you—I’m good at deduction too!”
“But none of this is my fault. This, that, everything—it’s all Medlidge’s fault…!”
At the mention of Medlidge again, Viretta’s group swallowed nervously.
Being seen as cold-blooded even by heroes setting out to slay a dragon wasn’t exactly comforting.
“Medlidge… did what?”
Viretta’s momentum screeched to a halt. Everyone waited, tense, for Moslin to continue.
Grinding her teeth, Moslin launched into her denunciation of Medlidge.
“Twenty years ago, wars were everywhere—big and small! But after that money-obsessed bastard seized control of the eastern economy, wars just stopped!”
“Hm?”
“Cadellan Medlidge! That bastard buys peace with money! Battlefields where warriors and mages would’ve rampaged—he manipulates them with coin! He says peace bought by breaking pride is better than victory soaked in blood, and he leaves no room for war!”
“Hmm?”
Something felt off. As they listened, the group’s heads tilted in unison.
“That cowardly, merchant mindset of his! He’s practically a symbol of peace! And because of him, the mercenary trade in Phillion has completely declined! Combat mages like me have fewer and fewer places to stand! How could I not end up at odds with those damned Medlidge types?!”
“…No, you’re making it sound unfair, but that’s actually an amazing thing you’ve done…”
He hadn’t enslaved anyone. He hadn’t exploited people.
He’d simply driven war out of Phillion with money.
Calling him a symbol of peace wasn’t an exaggeration at all.
