The Burden of Fate

“Big brother, big brother, what’s your name?”

“Wow, the staff in your hand is so exquisite! It shimmers and flashes; is it made of gold? May I touch it, just for a moment?”

“Brother, why do you wear a wizard hat on your head? Oh, I don’t mean that negatively… it’s just that the mages I’ve seen don’t wear such antiquated wizard hats. Or perhaps mages from the Eastern Continent prefer this kind of attire?”

The beautiful female wizard, her eyes veiled by gauze, trailed behind the group, listening to the children’s joyful exclamations, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

Rhine, however, surrounded and scrutinized, maintained a listless gaze, barely tolerating the cacophony.

He felt that if the commotion persisted, not only would his eardrums rupture, but an avalanche would hardly come as a surprise.

He loathed overly curious children who utterly lacked a sense of personal space.

He had truly taken on a handful of demanding little tyrants!

Their initial encounter had been entirely accidental:

Rhine had simply been resting by the stream, drawing water and idly fishing, when, to his utter exasperation, a magical skirmish erupted without warning in the dense forest across the water, an early morning ruckus that nearly blew them to bits.

Spells, errantly cast, splashed into the stream, sending all the plump salmon he had been eagerly anticipating scattering in terror.

Never before had he endured such an affront!

To disturb one’s food was an act deserving of divine retribution!

Whipping out his wand, he vaulted across the stream, intent on giving both offending parties a thorough beating.

Only then did he discover, to his damnation, that it was merely these clueless little brats playing around!

They even had the audacity to call it a “practical magic lesson.”

Naturally, Rhine found himself inextricably entangled with them.

Yet, in this desolate wilderness, where everyone struggled merely to survive, the sudden appearance of a group of seemingly harmless children, accompanied by a tall, blind woman…

Was this truly rational?

Something was amiss! Terribly amiss!

It was only halfway through their journey that he recalled the terrifying legends whispered among the Maian shamans, devoted worshippers of nature deities—

Tales of snow monsters disguised as women in the mountains, of imposters cloaked in children’s skin, and the solemn warning never to cross a stream at the liminal hours of dawn or dusk.

Surely, he hadn’t just crossed the River Styx, had he?

“Big brother, what’s wrong? Your face is so pale. Are you frozen stiff? I can offer you my scarf~”

When confronted by such malevolent entities, one absolutely must not betray any sign of recognition!

Otherwise, following the grim tropes of horror stories, instant demise would surely follow!

“Heh heh, nothing at all. Where do you all hail from?”

“Aren’t we all refugees from the Norman Empire? It’s all because of that vile Holy Church! They actually claimed that all us sorcerers are in league with evil spirits, and the idiotic emperor, believing the Holy Church’s utter nonsense, wants to round us up and roast us like lamb chops over a bonfire! Pfft, I curse them to have children born without anuses!”

A chorus of little ones behind them indignantly nodded in fervent agreement.

“Children, curse magic isn’t meant to be used so crudely. You should be far more professional, more merciless. Weave their hair into voodoo dolls, then mercilessly pierce the soles of their feet with silver needles.”

The woman, addressed as “teacher,” offered her guidance with a playful tone, causing Rhine’s eyelids to twitch involuntarily.

‘What manner of sorcerer would ever instruct their apprentices in such dark arts? You speak of sentencing them like war criminals with such casual ease! Given my own teacher’s notorious reputation, even suggesting he taught me voodoo dolls would be an egregious slander!’

‘She truly must be some kind of monster, mustn’t she? It was common knowledge that many sorcerers had perished recently. Better to believe such warnings than dismiss them; I would need to exercise even greater caution.’

“Use that much hair to weave?” One child tilted their head, pondering, “Then all the Norman nobles would end up with big bald heads, big bald heads!”

The other children, amused, chorused in agreement:

“Yes, big bald heads, big bald heads! The Norman Empire will be full of big bald heads!”

‘This tableau was utterly bizarre; it absolutely reeked of some nefarious cult ritual… Indeed, his divination earlier had warned of ill fortune, of an unavoidable calamity destined to befall him. My life is paramount; if they make any suspicious move, I will instantly activate a teleportation spell and flee!’

“Sir, you mentioned you are from the Eastern Continent. What kind of place is it?”

The blind woman quietly moved to the forefront of the group, her hood drawn against the occasional biting wind that swept down from the mountainside.

“Neither good, nor bad.”

“Are you also from the Norman Empire? Your dialect is quite proficient, and I detect a hint of a southern imperial accent.”

“More or less.”

“Ah, the south… I find myself yearning once more for the cosmos flowers by Mount Yona, unfurling like a vast sea, and the intoxicating fragrances drifting from the cellars of the Esporcia vineyard…”

Rhine continued his journey in silence, an inherent aura of inaccessibility constantly surrounding him.

Only the blind woman and the excessively innocent children seemed capable of inadvertently bypassing this protective barrier.

“Are you from the southern Empire?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I am merely a wanderer, making the four seas my home, having traversed countless lands, much like a dandelion seed carried by the wind. Anywhere I alight can be my home. And you? Is your home in the south?”

“I have no home.”

“That is somewhat regrettable, then.”

“That doesn’t align with logic. You, too, lack a fixed concept of ‘home,’ yet I perceive no regret in your tone.”

Rhine was neither taciturn nor loquacious; he spoke only when necessity dictated.

He would not surrender easily, nor would he engage in futile endeavors.

“Sir, having no home and having an unfixed concept of home are two distinct matters. A wandering soul without a true home is akin to rootless duckweed, buffeted by storms and winds. Though they may ride the crest of the wave, what lies behind is naught but desolation. I am simply always on a journey, and the marks I leave will not fade with time. To retrace those steps is to revisit memories as precious as diamonds.”

“…Do you believe individuals are punished for the sins of their past?”

The woman’s reply was swift:

“Sin exists only within the past. There is none in the present, nor will there be in the future.”

A dense fog rolled in, blanketing everything in a vast white shroud.

Rhine, guided by memory, led the group to the cave where he had made camp, dispassionately outlining the various details of the teleportation magic.

When he finally mentioned the restriction of “a limit of six people per day,” the children’s brows furrowed in dismay—

There were seven of them in total.

‘You all go. Teacher will remain here. The journey has no end, and one day, we shall surely meet again.’ These were the woman’s precise words.

Snowmelt continued to drip steadily along the cave’s edges, tapping against the irregular stones with crisp, resonant sounds.

The teacher embraced the tearful children tightly.

From the fragmented whispers he overheard, Rhine finally understood that these children were all orphans entrusted to her care, their parents having likely perished in the recent encirclement.

After soothing the children, the woman squatted beside Rhine, lowering her hood.

Rhine couldn’t recall her appearance; it was a peculiar phenomenon, yet he felt no strangeness about it.

Many inexplicable occurrences, when presented in a certain way, simply felt “right.”

“I wish to inquire about the kind of life the children will have there. Only then can I entrust them to you with true peace of mind, rather than to the caprice of fate.”

“Do you believe I represent fate now?”

“Sir, fate is not some ephemeral concept. We sorcerers battle it throughout our entire lives, with varying outcomes. Winners, like yourself, wield the power to shape the destinies of many; losers, like the souls interred beneath Mount Chione, perish unremarked in forgotten corners.”

“Interesting.”

Two plumes of white breath escaped from beneath the brim of his hat.

Rhine’s lips curled into a faint smile.

‘Fate, he mused… had he truly overcome it?’

“But I do not believe in fate, just as I believe in no gods. If my path is obstructed by others, I will kick them aside one by one, rather than anticipate some never-before-granted favor. Magic is not a miracle; miracles are merely fairy tales spun for children.”

The woman’s eyes, hidden beneath the gauze, turned towards the source of his voice.

Though she could see nothing, Rhine had the uncanny sense that she was peering through the present into a profound, distant future.

She spoke softly, a single sentence:

“Until fate seizes you by the throat.”

She departed. Her name was Merlin.