Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard

c106

TL/Editor: raei

Proofreader: Pickhead7

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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The chieftain of the Sky Claw tribe, Helga, had been troubled about many things lately.

The fundamental cause of her worries was, as expected, the ruin of the Great Hunting Festival.

The Northerners traditionally relied on hunting plenty of Yagons during the festival to survive the winter.

However, this year, the number of Yagons had mysteriously dwindled.

All they could offer were vague explanations like, "The gods are angry," or "We must offer sacrifices."

Frankly, Helga had been tempted to hold a sacrificial ritual for the Ice God.

She hadn't overturned the decision of the previous chief (her father) to hold a festival for the Ice God openly. But with the situation being this dire, she had no choice but to grasp at straws.

A few guys who liked stirring up trouble said, "This is all because we worship a minor god like the Sky God!"

Helga wanted to shout right in their faces, "Hey, you bastards! Did I buy into the Sky God? I inherited it from my dad! And not just inherited it, but inherited it completely and utterly!"

That's right.

Helga's father, the former chief of the Sky Claw tribe, had been completely swayed by the smooth tongue of the monk Isilla and had fully invested in the unheard-of god called the Sky God.

"The era of the Ice God is over! Now is the era of the Sky God!"

"Dad, are you sure about this?"

"Of course! We're going to heaven!"

"..."

It was a situation that could only be described as her father being caught up in a strange high in his later years.

But since it was her father's decision, Helga remained silent.

However...

As strange things began happening in the North, the popularity of Heaven's Faith plummeted.

Forget about going to heaven.

With everyone on the brink of starving to death, who cared about heaven?

"Should I just cut my losses now?"

Helga seriously considered it.

This damn Heaven's Faith had brought her nothing but trouble.

If only she'd kept her faith in the solid Ice God!

"Helga! Is Helga here?"

"What is it, Sigurd?"

"Do something about Gregory, that guy."

As if her headaches weren't enough, small and large incidents kept happening in the village.

This time, it was the troublemaker Gregory.

"That guy has a mountain of food stored in his warehouse, but he won't budge when asked to share a little!"

Like most small societies, the Northern tribe was a small, closed community. With everyone knowing each other through one connection or another, any dispute meant losses for both parties.

So, the atmosphere leaned toward preventing conflicts from arising in the first place.

A prime example of this was the blurred concept of private property.

If someone in the village owned a luxury artifact worthy of national power, instead of receiving applause and congratulations, people would think, "Who are you to monopolize such a valuable item?"

There's much talk about rural hospitality, but the reality is closer to, "Since I've shared what I have, you should share what you have."

That's how the villagers viewed Gregory.

"Hey! Aren't we all in this together?"

As a fellow villager, Gregory was "naturally" expected to share his hunted game with his neighbors.

That was the rural rule and law.

If he didn't comply?

Gregory would be labeled as selfish and stingy.

In reality, Gregory was indeed selfish and stingy.

But he was also a clueless guy. If he'd just shared a little and lived more sociably, he could have become quite popular in the village.

Had he been born in modern times, protected by the law and order, he might have lived much better.

In a modern society where the state protects private property, the villagers' excessive demands would have been handled by the police with a stern, "Hey, you!"

"... Let's wait and see. The Yagons might appear sooner or later."

The chief of the tribe held a democratic position.

Rather than wielding absolute power, the chief was more like a public servant managing the village based on the support of the residents.

Complaints about Gregory were pouring in, so Helga had to act as chief.

But since Gregory was an excellent hunter, it was hard to handle him carelessly.

Winter hadn't come yet.

If the Yagon herds appeared later, all the bickering in the village would seem like a ridiculous farce.

"Ice God or Sky God, whoever it is, please help us..."

Helga offered an empty prayer.

The gods had never answered Helga's prayers, whether the Ice God or the Sky God.

Her father, the previous chief, had converted to Heaven's Faith, claiming he had "heard the call of heaven," but Helga couldn't see any reason to trust and cling to gods who wouldn't even answer.

If any god could show a miracle, Helga was ready to become a devoted follower of that god.

While Helga was busy handling the residents' complaints, a stranger entered the tent.

"Hmm? Who are you?"

"Greetings, Chief. I apologize for the late greeting."

The traveler's appearance was both familiar and foreign.

His face resembled a Northerner's, but his eyes and hair were jet-black.

Helga briefly made eye contact with the traveler and involuntarily shrank back.

Beyond his pitch-black pupils, she sensed a swirling mystery.

Helga was sure of it.

He's no ordinary traveler!

"My name is Ian Eredith. I've come on behalf of the Imperial Monastery to meet Priest Madagal."

"Ah, I've heard about you. Thank you for coming all this way."

The conversation ended there.

In truth, even if Helga had shouted, "Get lost now!" it wouldn't have caused much trouble. Ian was a guest who had come at a bad time and not for any particularly important reason.

Sigurd, who had come to file a complaint, had a similar thought. The difference between him and Helga was his impatience.

"If you're done with your business, then get back to the Empire! Imperial! This isn't a place for you to idle away!"

"Show some restraint, Sigurd. He's a guest of the priest."

Even though a rather menacing threat was thrown at him, Ian's expression didn't change.

Helga felt a bit curious about Ian.

He looked fragile but didn't seem to be so in reality.

"Respected Chief, I've come at the request of the monastery to investigate the whereabouts of a certain monk. But for an expedition in the North, I need ample food supplies."

"Food?"

"Yes. As a fellow believer who serves the Sky God, I ask for your help. Could you please support me with provisions to find the monk?"

Helga's expression, unsurprisingly, didn't look too good.

In a village where people argued about who got to eat the scarce food, giving provisions to some stranger from the Empire?

If Helga were a devout follower of Heaven's Faith, she would have gladly helped a "brother in faith." But she was a skeptic, contemplating whether to cut ties with the church altogether.

"Hey! Imperial! I'd rather feed a dog than you lot!"

"Sigurd!"

"Bah! Chief! It's because of that damn Sky God temple that we're attracting these vagabonds!"

"..."

"What has the Sky God ever done for us? Isn't he just a god we started believing in after the previous chief died and wanted to go to heaven?"

Helga glanced at Ian, feeling a bit sorry.

If the village's circumstances had been better, she would have shared food. Unfortunately, the situation wasn't good.

Even if this stranger got angry, there was nothing she could do.

"Hmm. I see."

"...?"

Helga was a little surprised.

"It can't be helped. I have ears, so I've heard about the situation in the North. Since everyone is going through tough times, I can't make unreasonable demands."

"Uh... thanks for understanding."

Ian turned around and muttered something meaningful.

"Then we'll try to find food ourselves."

Helga was momentarily dumbfounded.

In this cold North, those country bumpkins from the Empire were going to find food on their own?

If food could be found, would we be struggling like this?

Sigurd felt the same disbelief.

"There's nothing around here but grass and stones. What food can you find?"

Ian replied calmly.

"Well, there's plenty. There's grass, and there are stones."

"???"

"Chief, there's a rock on the hill near the village. You don't use that, do you?"

"... No, we don't use it."

"Can I take it?"

"What, what for?"

Ian's response left Helga speechless.

In her entire life, she had never heard such madness.

"To cook it."

---

---

The peaceful village was turned upside down overnight—in a good way.

Ian's "eccentricity" quickly spread as a rumor.

From mouth to mouth, stories circulated about the wizard from the Empire and his bizarre meal.

"Hey, have you heard?"

"The wizard from the Empire! Can you believe it? He's making soup out of stones!"

The village had been stressed over the lack of food.

Worried about how to survive the winter and fearing an attack from the neighboring village, people became excited when they heard that a wizard was making soup from stones.

The village's interest was so intense it was about to explode.

For medieval people, Ian's stone soup was like a groundbreaking invention like stem cell research or LK-99.

Wait, can you really make soup by boiling stones lying on the ground?

Wow! Then why bother hunting or farming?

Just pick up stones and boil them!

If possible, it would truly be a revolutionary technological breakthrough.

Hearing that Ian was making soup from stones, the village elders sighed in unison.

"Oh! I must have been a fool (or not)!"

Why hadn't they thought of making soup from stones until now?

The answer was simple.

...Because it's not something you should think of!

Undoubtedly, Ian was no different from a dark wizard who had reached for forbidden knowledge.

"Is it true, Ian? Can you really make soup from stones?"

Gunnar, having heard the news, came running in a hurry.

He genuinely believed that Ian was bringing a food revolution to the Middle Ages.

Looking into Gunnar's bright eyes, Ian felt a little guilty.

Because, in reality, there was no food revolution about to happen.

"Of course, it's possible."

But the wizard's trick had already begun.

Ian told a blatant lie, feeling a bit sorry.

"I prayed to heaven because I couldn't find the monk and had to return to the Empire... then, in my dream, the Sky God appeared and said she would grant us food."

"R-Really?!"

Gunnar's jaw dropped.

Gunnar, too, was a follower of Heaven's Faith. He fully understood the sacredness of Ian's experience.

Holy food given by God for the believers!

Wow! So that’s stone soup!

That made everything clear.

If it were a miracle from heaven!

"Oh my...!"

Gunnar drew a cross fervently, filled with emotion.

And then, suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.

Believers starving in the cold North... food given by God for such believers...

What would stone soup taste like?

Gulp.

"Uh, uh, hey, Ian."

Excited, Gunnar stuttered as he pleaded.

"Can I, can I have a little taste of that stone soup too?"

If it was food given by the Sky God, shouldn't Gunnar, a follower of Heaven's Faith, be allowed to taste it too?

However, Ian spoke coldly.

"No."

"... Why not?"

"Stone soup is sacred food. To eat it out of mere curiosity is absurd."

Although he was addressing Gunnar, it was as if he was speaking to all the onlookers.

The crowd gathered around Ian like a cloud couldn't hide their disappointment.

It was already well-known throughout the village that he was making soup from stones.

If people came to watch the cooking, what would they expect?

Naturally, they'd expect to taste it!

But they were told they couldn't taste the stone soup?!

"... I believe in the Sky God too. Can't I have just one taste?"

A Northerner murmured softly.

In truth, he rarely went to the temple and knew little more than the fact that the Sky God existed.

But with the chance to taste food said to be granted by heaven right before his eyes, why not become a temporary believer in Heaven's Faith?

People line up at churches just for a handout of Choco Pies!

"Actually, I believe too..."

"I've always believed in the Sky God!"

Once one person opened the floodgate, the wave of conversion followed one after another.

In the blink of an eye, all the onlookers had transformed into Heaven's Faith believers.

It was nothing short of a holy miracle.

Ian climbed the hill and shouted loudly in front of the rock he had previously marked.

"[Rock! Move!]"

Rumble!

Then, something incredible happened.

The rock, which had been buried in the ground, began to move, pushing itself out of the dirt!

"Ohhh!"

"My goodness! Could there truly be a god?!"

Ian gracefully descended the hill.

Behind him, the rock rolled down the slope, following Ian like a puppy.

The onlooking Northerners couldn't hide their surprise and astonishment as they cautiously followed Ian and the rolling rock.

The scene looked like a folk painting.

"Wow..."

"He really brought the rock!"

The villagers who had stayed behind, thinking Ian was bluffing, were left speechless as they watched the rock rolling on its own.

At this point, they had no choice but to believe.

For real!

He really was making soup from stones!

"Ian, use this."

Priest Madagal had already prepared a large pot.

At Ian's gesture, the child-sized rock slipped neatly into the pot.

"Kira."

"Yes."

With a graceful spin, Kira conjured a flame from her fingertips.

In truth, she could have just lit it directly, but Ian had given her prior instructions.

Stone soup was... actually a lie.

No matter how much of a wizard Ian was, unless he was from D&D, he didn't know any magic that could turn stones into meat.

So what Ian had to do from now on was a form of showmanship.

The wood was lit, and the water in the pot began to bubble and boil.

Kira tasted a spoonful of the stone soup with a ladle.

"Mmm!"

She then beamed with the happiest smile.

She could be a commercial model, Ian thought with a grin.

"How is it?"

"It's truly mysterious! How does it taste like this when you only put in stones and water?"

The 'stone soup' tasted like fresh water.

Well, it was just stones and water put together...

But Kira, a born actress, spun a blatant lie without batting an eye.

She smacked her lips as if it was genuinely delicious!

Her acting was flawless.

Enough to melt the hearts of the Northerners!

The Northerners watched Ian making the stone soup, swallowing their saliva.

"What could it possibly taste like...!"

"We want to try it too!"

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