I surveyed the field.
The soil foods seemed to be developing well under the Anferfurmi’s—Shuri’s—care. Food that grows in dirt—I’d heard of it before, of course, but never tasted it. Fenrir do not eat things born of dirt.
Well, the same could be said for all of us gathered here, I suppose. I don’t know why Master seeks to grow such things... Master’s cooking is always surprising, though. I never imagined meat could taste so good. It’s strange. Perhaps these dirt things will surprise me too? We shall see. And on the topic of surprising things...
The golems—specifically, the newest specimens. While out hunting, we’d caught the trail of a monster headed straight for the house. I’d rushed to catch up to it, but the golems had already slaughtered it by the time I reached it.
I’d encountered golems with the capacity for magic before, but infrequently. However, Master’s golems... They didn’t just use magic. They moved so fast that even I lost sight of them for a moment and wielded such force that the monster died with a single blow. No, Master’s golems... I hoped to remain on the same side as them. The alternative sent a chill down my spine.
I wandered to the lake for a short rest. Like most things around the mountain, cleaning spells have been woven into the lake itself. But Master’s spells do not just purify; his magic has penetrated the water itself. Mana ripples across the surface. That, perhaps, was why I could see so many of those creatures swimming around—creatures that usually chose to dwell only in the clearest streams. I locked eyes with one as it surfaced.
No hostility. It seems peaceful. Good.
The golems blessed with green magestones conjured a healing breeze that danced around us, flowing from the mountain itself to the very edges of Master’s protective boundary. I felt calm. Perhaps I shall nap for a bit—
I jumped to my feet as Master’s mana surged past me.
What’s happened?! His guards didn’t send any warnings...
Mana pulsed through the forest, more virulent than ever before. It rode on the breeze, pouring into the soil, the trees, the water, and every single living creature it touched. And then, the boundary vanished. Growls echoed around me—the others had felt it too. Something was wrong.
No.
The golems—they continued their work, altogether unaffected by the obvious change in the atmosphere. They’re linked to Master—if something was wrong, they would feel it. So perhaps all is well? But the boundary...
Regardless, the golems’ collective lack of disturbance soothed me, and I settled the others. We waited for Master’s return. He appeared unharmed, and, to my great relief, closer inspection revealed no worrying changes.
Still, I’m curious about the boundary... Something must have occurred.
It wasn’t until the following day that I realized the boundary had expanded.
The desire to expand his territory was something he’d mentioned before, to which we Fenrir had replied with resounding disapproval. The existing boundary already took an enormous amount of mana to maintain, and we worried for Master’s safety.
Those worries had been fruitless, it would seem.
I inspected the new boundary, running alongside it for a time. It soon became clear that it would take more than a day to completely circumnavigate it, so I turned for home.
Despite the mana he must have been expending to maintain it, Master appeared unchanged. Today, just like every other day, he spent the morning inspecting the field and the lake, checking on his subordinates, and covertly examining the golems.
He’s not even affected. I was foolish to expect otherwise.