Solskjaer's laboratory lay in the south.
His research focused on fire magic, and the hot, tropical south naturally held far more abundant Fire Element. Studying fire magic in the frozen north would have been possible, but it would have been pointlessly difficult.
Dwight made up his mind — and acted fast.
Solskjaer was freed from the dungeon at once.
His mage robes, equipment, vials of powder, magic crystals, and spell scrolls were all returned to him.
Naturally, the mage robes were newly tailored.
Old Steward Hill had been utterly shocked when the young master recruited a mage as his subordinate… until he learned Solskjaer was only a First-Class Mage. Then he understood.
When Dwight announced he would travel, the steward could not refuse.
He himself had suggested that Dwight tour the family's estates rather than bury himself in dry account books.
Carriages, horses, and luggage were readied in no time.
Unlike their modest journey south from the capital, Hill arranged a far grander entourage — the eldest son of the Rollin family could not travel shabbily within their own lands.
Mad remained Dwight's personal steward, this time with ten castle servants under him to tend to the young master.
Two cavalry squads from the castle guard were assigned to protect Dwight, led by the guard's vice-captain — a fully certified Knight of the Fourth Rank, named **Robert**.
Robert was tall, broad-shouldered, and square-jawed, with an honest, straightforward air. He treated Dwight with deep respect, a true warrior through and through. Dwight took an immediate liking to him.
One squad was Robert's own men; the other, Dwight personally chose the guards who had traveled south with him from the capital.
On the road south, Robert performed his duties flawlessly.
He arranged scouts ahead, set strict watches during stops, and never questioned Dwight's whims — even when the young master decided to camp outdoors for the night.
A perfect soldier, Dwight judged.
Robert had clearly served in the imperial army, as had many knights of the Rollin family, a house of military tradition.
Compared to the annoying old steward, the loyal, dutiful knight was far more pleasant.
---
They traveled for **seven days**, taking in the lands along the way, before reaching the southernmost town of Cote Province.
Beyond lay the border of the Rollin territory.
All in all, Dwight was deeply satisfied with the Rollin lands.
The fertile Rollin Plain stretched out before him: endless farmland, prosperous villages, content farmers. Even the larger towns they passed showed clear signs of wealth and peace.
When their caravan rode through farmlands, farmers would wave their hats in salute at the sight of the Rollin banner.
The family was clearly beloved here.
Robert could see the young master was not inspecting estates — he was simply sightseeing.
It was only natural. A thirteen-year-old boy could hardly manage family business.
Robert's only concern was fulfilling his duty as a protector.
On the seventh day, as they reached the southern edge of Rollin territory, Dwight announced he wished to continue south.
Robert found it odd but did not object.
It was just a pleasure trip. If the young master wished to go further, so be it.
South of Cote Province lay the empire's **Reel Province**, whose governor was friendly and respectful toward the Rollin family. The young lord of Rollin would be well received there.
Dwight quickly grew fond of his obedient knight.
He also noticed Robert was popular with the cavalry — young soldiers often asked him for combat tips during camp.
Robert's skill was impressive, by Dwight's standards.
He wielded a massive greatsword with astonishing strength; when sparring, seven men could not get near him.
Even Jolin's brute squire admired him.
In a practice bout, Robert had defeated him with just one hand on his sword.
Fourth-Rank Knight — truly a formidable fighter.
Watching, Dwight felt a flicker of curiosity and asked Robert to teach him basic combat skills.
Robert was surprised. By family tradition, the Count's son would learn from the *most* skilled knights of the house, not a mere cavalry captain.
But he agreed readily. The battle-aura cultivation he practiced was standard imperial army technique, no great secret.
Yet after a short lesson, Robert gave Dwight the same verdict as Count Raymond's former captain of guards:
the boy had **no natural talent for combat**.
Dwight's body was frail from childhood illness, congenitally weak.
Dwight was not discouraged.
He did not aim to become a great warrior — he simply wanted to get in better shape.
Under Robert's instruction, Dwight began learning basic physical training and simple combat forms.
This slowed their journey south even further.
---
On the **ninth day** south, the party reached a small city in northeastern Reel Province:
**Half-Horn City**.
Its name came from the half-horn-shaped valley beside which it stood.
Lying on a major trade route, the small city was surprisingly prosperous.
Dwight's group even spotted a 20-man mercenary company escorting a merchant caravan north — they checked into the same inn.
Reel Province was imperial territory, not noble land, and no high officials resided in Half-Horn City.
Dwight wished to avoid local bureaucracy, so staying at an inn felt freer.
Their arrival drew no official attention.
At lunch, while Dwight's party ate in the inn's main hall, the merchant group sat on the other side.
Suddenly, rapid hoofbeats rang outside. The door slammed open, and three knights in local garrison armor strode in.
The lead man wore a knight's medal marking him as a **Fourth-Rank Knight**, his armor and insignia identifying him as a senior garrison officer.
He marched over to the merchants and announced loudly:
"Gentlemen! I am Knight Spahn, captain of the Second Cavalry of the Half-Horn Garrison!
Under imperial martial law, I hereby requisition your guards! Our forces are stretched thin, and we need your help on a mission in Half-Horn Valley outside the city.
By law, you may not refuse."
His tone was firm. He glanced at the mercenary guards.
"I know you are sellswords. You will be paid by the army. You have half an hour to ready your gear and horses — be outside at the gate!"
The mercenaries grumbled but obeyed; imperial law was absolute, and they would be paid.
The merchants, however, panicked at losing their hired protection.
One sharp-eyed merchant stepped forward, trying to plead for leniency.
"No!" Spahn cut him off sharply. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I promise your guards will return by this time tomorrow. You may stay in the city an extra day — the army will cover your inn expenses.
Say no more. This is a military operation. And take back your gold — bribing an officer is a serious crime."
He left the merchant and turned toward Dwight's table.
He had intended to requisition *Dwight's* guards as well… but as he drew near, he noticed their clothing, Dwight's noble attire, and most importantly — **Robert and the other knights**.
Their armor was not imperial military issue — it was the livery of a noble private army.
Requisitioning another noble's soldiers was far beyond his authority as a local garrison captain.
Spahn hesitated. He was desperate for men, and the mission was urgent.
At last, he gritted his teeth and stepped forward, bowing formally as a knight.
"Honored sir, I —"
His voice caught.
He had not seen it clearly before — but now he spotted it:
The **Rollin family crest** emblazoned on the light breastplates of Dwight's cavalry guards.
He had hoped to negotiate for their help… but the great Rollin family, the empire's legendary military house?
He could not simply demand their aid.
Damn it! Rollin family? What were they doing in Half-Horn City?
Why had no one warned him?
Spahn sighed inwardly.
"Please continue, Knight," Dwight said calmly, lifting his wine cup and sipping lightly.
The mild wheat beer tasted similar to the rice wine of his old world.
"Honored sir… forgive my boldness. Are you… of the great Rollin family?" Spahn's voice was now far more respectful, his back bowed.
"We are, from the Rollin Plain." Robert stepped forward, his towering frame half a head taller than Spahn.
"This is my master: Dwight Rollin, eldest son of Count Raymond of the Rollin family."
Spahn bowed again at once.
The son of the Count of Rollin — a man who could stand as an equal to the governor of Reel Province!
"Knight Spahn, you seem to be in some trouble," Dwight said with a smile.
"I am…" Spahn weighed his words, then told the truth, his face grim.
"I just received an emergency order requiring roughly a hundred soldiers. But it's spring drill season — most of the Half-Horn garrison is training two hundred miles south. I have fewer than twenty men left.
Under imperial provincial law, I must requisition local warriors for temporary military service."
Dwight nodded. "I see. And you intended to requisition my guards?"
"No! No, sir! I would never dare!" Spahn paled.
He *had* planned to — but not now, not after learning their identity.
Count Raymond was the **second-most powerful man in the imperial military**!
To requisition his son's guards? If anything happened to the young master… he would lose his head a hundred times over.
"Then what has happened?" Dwight asked curiously. "Since we are here, you might tell us, so we may take precautions."
Spahn hesitated, then sighed.
"It's strange. Half-Horn Mountain outside the city has always been peaceful. It's not tall, its forests not deep — once, even large wild animals were rare, and our garrison hunted them regularly.
But yesterday… a **monster** appeared out of nowhere."
Dwight's eyes lit up!
A *magic beast*?
"Yes. We don't know what kind yet, but it's large — hunters saw its footprints clearly.
What's confusing is that monsters almost never live near human cities. They're supposed to stay in the wild forests near the southern border.
Reel Province hasn't seen a monster in decades. No one knows where this one came from." Spahn smiled bitterly.
"My men and I have orders to hunt it down. But a beast that size… I'd need at least twenty soldiers to kill it. And Half-Horn Mountain is huge — to surround and search it, I need a hundred men at least."
A monster… this sounds fascinating.
Dwight's interest flared.
Ever since he'd found a glimmer of hope to learn magic, he'd grown obsessed with anything related to it.
A real magic beast, deep in the southern empire?
How could he miss this?
"Excellent!" Dwight declared solemnly. "I bring forty guards, all elite cavalry of the Rollin family. My captain here is a Fourth-Rank Knight. I will lend you their aid to hunt this monster.
I cannot stand by while a monster terrorizes this land."
Spahn stared. "You… you would lend me your guards?"
"Master, that is unwise," Robert objected for the first time. "You cannot be left unprotected. I will take twenty men — that is enough."
Robert was willing to help; he was a true knight, bound by chivalry.
"No, don't worry about my safety," Dwight smiled. "Because **I am coming with you**.
Surely I will be safest right beside you all."
Robert and Spahn both started to protest.
Especially Spahn! He already regretted telling the young lord anything!
To take him into the mountains? Catching the monster was unimportant — if *Dwight Rollin* suffered so much as a scratch… he was ruined.
"You need not object," Dwight said firmly. "And do not fear for me — I have a powerful mage at my side."
He gestured to Solskjaer.
The mage sighed. He was hardly "powerful," but his title as a mage was genuine.
Spahn's eyes lit up!
A mage! With a skilled mage's help, the mission would be easy!
But… the young master's safety…