Chapter 20: A Bustling Doorstep

In the forest on the first floor of Nikolai’s Magic Tower.

Amidst the shadows of lush trees, the figures of one tall and four short individuals were faintly visible. Their robes, which marked them as Spellcasters, gave off faint glows of several colors. The light illuminated their faces hidden within their hoods… If Constantine had been there, he would have recognized them at a glance as the very same brats he had collectively taught a lesson to an hour ago, along with their instructor.

“Sir, why did Archmage Callister force his way into the lunatic Vernal’s laboratory? Could it have something to do with that brat?” Gazing from afar at the somewhat dilapidated but shimmering cottage, one of the shorter apprentices couldn’t help but ask.

His voice was somewhat slurred—if one looked closely, one could see a rather large bruise on his chin. Constantine’s palm-heel strike had been quite effective. Perhaps because of this, his entire face seemed somewhat twisted by the injury when he spoke.

“Idiot! Shut up!” The leader of the four aristocratic apprentices cursed under his breath. He glanced at the figure that had disappeared through the doorway and turned back with unconcealed bitterness to ask the only adult among them, “Mr. Purness, what should we do now?”

“What should we do?” The Mage named Purness lifted his head, revealing a pale face from blood loss. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he was smiling, but his eyes, hidden in the shadow of his hood, were full of coldness. The soft blue glow on his cloak even added a touch of ferocity to his originally proper features. “I already inquired. That guy is the eldest legitimate son of the Connallyvis Family. Even old man Nikolai has to give some face to their Griffon family. And now, with the addition of the mad dog Vernal and the Eye of the Firmament, Callister… what more can I possibly do? It would be a good thing if he doesn’t come after us later!”

“Connallyvis… The Griffin Knight Order? His father is an Imperial Duke? Mr. Purness, you’re not mistaken, are you?” The three Mage Apprentices exclaimed in shock, simultaneously and involuntarily shrinking their necks, their voices seeming to tremble a little. Although they knew something about the Empire’s largest military group, they had never imagined that the unremarkable-looking, plainly dressed youth who had taught them a lesson earlier was actually the eldest son of the House of Connarivis.

Due to safety or confidentiality considerations, underage Mage Apprentices were not allowed to easily leave this enclosed area. Even the influence of their families could not make them overlook this iron rule. Therefore, they were not very familiar with some of the news even within Hayton City. However, the name of the Griffon Knight was something even a child couldn’t be entirely unaware of.

They had pacified the northwest. Although their name was no longer as dazzling among the common people as it was centuries ago, as children of nobility, these two should understand the power represented by that name. Even though they also came from respectable families and had passed layers of selection to become Mage Apprentices—and in a few years, they might become prestigious Formal Mages—that did not mean they had the strength to disregard that name.

In fact, the power represented by this name was something no one could easily ignore. Not even an Archmage.

“Are we just going to suffer this humiliation for nothing? That’s too…” Compared to everyone else’s shock, only the leading apprentice in the blue robe didn’t show much fear… although upon hearing the name, he instinctively touched a gemstone-studded button on his cuff, on which a delicate, simplified small emblem was carved.

“Do you feel you haven’t been embarrassed enough? Four against one, and you were beaten crying by a single Sorcerer… You didn’t even manage to cast a decent spell!” The blue-robed Mage’s sneer grew sharper. Although he was scolding the brats, he was clearly reminded of his own experience… so the edge in his voice gradually faded. “A Mage should always consider wisdom their primary weapon! How to exert your own power and weaken your opponent’s—that is what a Mage should think about! In that regard, you should really learn from him!”

“Since a direct challenge is impossible now, naturally we need to borrow other forces.” His gaze swept over the terrified children. On the Mage’s pale face, that sinister smile gradually widened. “Revenge is a fine wine that grows more mellow with time. Only those patient enough are qualified to taste it. I have always believed that deeply…”

His voice grew softer and softer, eventually disappearing into the wind. The children looked at each other in confusion and finally could only shake their heads. But by then, the Mage had already turned and left, and they could only follow, bewildered.

And so, a group of figures plotting schemes and conspiracies went off to who-knows-where, slowly fading into the darkness.

…

“Damn it, that old man definitely did it on purpose!” Looking at the increasingly familiar surroundings, Constantine thumped his already sore and numb thighs and swore fiercely. “Next time, even if I’m wearing pajamas, I’ll sew a few gold coins inside for emergencies!”

“You’ve repeated that fifty-six times now…” The narrow, elongated pupil on the Soul Amulet shifted, and the Lich’s flat voice entered the youth’s mind. “A Curse without the support of the Weave of Magic is just resentment. A weakling’s retaliation is useless…”

“Want me to dip you in acid?” Constantine threatened… though the threat sounded rather feeble…

When the dizzying sensation of the teleportation ended, he despairingly found himself in an unknown location. Although he was still within Hayton City, the distance to Central Avenue… was especially far.

Carrying books weighing over ten kilograms across half the city without any guidance, even in a city with underdeveloped civilization, was truly no easy task for a thirteen-and-a-half-year-old child…

In fact, if he hadn’t discovered another method, that journey might have been enough to numb his feet completely. After crossing a few streets, the youth found that as long as he moved swiftly and took advantage of people’s inattention, he could climb onto the luggage racks at the back of passing public carriages. Those racks, piled high with luggage, blocked the driver’s view entirely, making detection impossible. This method of hitchhiking saved his feet from torment but wasted more time. Unfamiliar with the routes of the stagecoaches, the youth changed carriages three or four times before finally finding one on the correct route to Central Avenue. And this, in turn, increased the final amount of walking he had to do.

Moreover, ordinary public carriages could no longer travel on the roads near Central Avenue. For the last two-plus miles of road, he still had to drag his own two legs.

“Still, I feel a bit regretful for you, rejecting the chance to become that being’s Believer… Generally speaking, a Deity has no need to deceive an ordinary Human like you. If they said they could grant you power, then there’s an eighty percent chance they really would. Even if a Devil wanted to use you for some purpose, the part they promise wouldn’t be discounted.”

“You’ve said that at least thirty times too, and my answer is clear. How high is that probability? Thirty percent? Forty percent? Are you sure they wouldn’t break the agreement? And even if successful, what would I have to give in return?” Constantine frowned. Regarding his refusal of the proposal from that self-proclaimed Deity, Constantine didn’t feel there was much to regret. Unless it was a mother to her child, even a God wouldn’t do something like giving without taking. The more they give, the more terrifying what they take. If you happily accept a gift, you might end up nailed to a cross the next moment.

“Besides, I’m not interested in becoming anyone’s slave…” the youth concluded.

“Slave? Whatever you think, in this world, the strong are supreme, and the weak are always their slaves. And above the strong, there are stronger ones. They maintain their status over those below but are still slaves to those above. Like Commoners to Nobles, the Emperor to the Deities, and the Deities, obeying that supreme will…” The Lich’s flat voice carried no emotion, but Constantine could sense a hint of lament in it. Perhaps it was a bit of rapport generated after a few days of interaction.

“We are all slaves… That’s a famous saying from some Mind Flayer. Although the race is different, you have to admit, the squid-head was right…”

“Yeah, for an existence that could abandon its Human identity to become Undead, the lure of power is probably something you simply can’t resist…” The youth sighed softly, his gaze passing through the thinning crowd on the street. “Everyone has an irresistible temptation. As long as you grasp that point, even a God might have to obey.”

He shook his head, driving some absurd associations from his mind. For now, the greatest temptation for him was nothing more than a hearty meal to soothe his rumbling stomach and a soft bed.

However, as the distance shortened, Constantine found it strange that the servants passing by were all looking at him, or rather, looking at him with a very peculiar gaze. He carefully checked himself—his appearance was indeed somewhat conspicuous. His originally simple outfit, after enduring the fiery test between Archmages and the combined pollution of dust and grease from the public carriage luggage racks, had taken on a dingy yellow hue. Some parts showed signs of wear from rubbing against the iron racks. If one didn’t closely observe the fine gold threads on it, his appearance wasn’t much different from an ordinary street urchin or errand boy. Central Avenue was a residential area for Nobles. Ordinary Commoners or even low-ranking Nobles rarely wandered here without permission. So the attitude of these people, polished by snobbery, was hardly surprising.

Thus, Constantine had to try to quicken his pace. Though tortured by muscle soreness, the youth’s steps were extremely light. The wind around him felt tangible, slipping past his body like soft silk, making his movements far more agile than usual… In fact, to ordinary eyes, his movement could be considered a jogging speed.

That was the effect of the gloves gifted by the Black Robe Mage Vernal. Although in Vernal’s eyes, it was just a small trinket he could casually give away, the youth knew its value well. Wearing them, even a clumsy heavy-armored warrior could become agile, not to mention those Rogues and swift swordsmen who relied on agility for a living—they would probably go bankrupt for such a chance to enhance their abilities.

Of course, Constantine wouldn’t easily consider selling these gloves. From what he understood of Hartdiel, creating such a pair required the spells Cat’s Grace and Haste. Both were extremely effective spells in combat and were also among the most suitable things for a Sorcerer to learn… Therefore, if he could replicate these gloves, it would serve two purposes at once.

This trip to the Mage Tower had been quite fruitful for Constantine. Besides a book from each of the two Archmages, a pair of Magic gloves, and a dagger obtained as spoils, he also received a so-called… vision… bestowed by that unknown powerful being.

In fact, on the way back, the youth had already tested the function of this ability. He discovered that besides the colorful auras caused by spells, his vision possessed another layer of enhancement… As long as there was even a sliver of light, all the scenery in his sight appeared no different from under bright sunlight. Curious, Constantine even tried entering a dark corner in an abandoned warehouse. In a place completely devoid of light, the surroundings remained clearly discernible, only losing color contrast and becoming shades of gray.

This delighted him immensely. With these eyes, Darkness could no longer be a visual obstacle. Even the shapes of rocks at the bottom of murky water became somewhat visible. And, undoubtedly more powerful, was the ability to completely detect the auras of all Magic Items… According to the Lich, it could allow Constantine to completely avoid any magical sneak attacks… provided, of course, the attacker was within his line of sight.

The grand gate gradually became clear in his vision, but then the youth paused, blinking and carefully examining the brass street sign beside him before finally confirming he wasn’t mistaken about the place. It was just that the usually quiet front of the Western Frontier Governor’s Mansion was unexpectedly… bustling.

The wide street before the gate was crammed with three carriages bearing no family crests or insignias. Their exterior clearly marked them as Noble private carriages—the cabins, painted with glossy brown paint, were much taller than stagecoaches, even tall enough for someone to stand upright inside. Behind the two carriage lamps at the front, hemispherical copper mirrors were installed, capable of projecting the oil lamp’s light far ahead. Compared to ordinary stagecoaches with only one dim lantern, they were infinitely more advanced. Moreover, the carriage windows on both sides were fitted with transparent Crystals—rare items that allowed a view outside without letting the wind in.

But now, atop these valuable carriages and on their rear luggage racks were placed all sorts of baggage, serving the role of freight wagons. Some items could be identified as household utensils by their shapes, but more were bundles and packages of unrecognizable shapes. Such luggage occupied most of the external space of all three carriages, and judging by the constantly unloaded parcels, most of the interior space had originally been filled with things, too.

There were at least thirty or forty busy servants dressed as such, and strangely, the youth realized he didn’t recognize a single one.

“What’s going on?” the youth muttered to himself, quickening his pace a bit more. From Constantine’s observations these past few days, although his father held the title of Duke, he didn’t seem to have a very wide network within the Phoenix Dynasty. Besides Viscount Karl Cassas, there hadn’t been a single visitor in all these days. Moreover, no visitor would ever make such a grand spectacle. Exchanges between Nobles might involve gifts, but they were limited to small objects like jewelry or swords and weapons. An activity resembling moving house would never occur.

Bold individuals openly using a moving company as a cover for theft probably only existed in Planes he was familiar with. Besides, probably no one was bold enough to target the House of Connarivis. Or perhaps the various furniture and facilities in the Duke’s Mansion, though not new, were still far from their end of life. There was no need for a complete replacement.

“Stop!” Just as the gate was nearly within reach, a muffled voice suddenly sounded from behind… making the muscles in the youth’s shoulders involuntarily twitch.

The youth turned his head in confusion, wondering if the weather had changed—the light around him suddenly dimmed, engulfed in a large shadow. And the voice rang out again, like thunder. Fortunately, he soon realized someone was speaking to him, just in a somewhat indistinct manner: “Hey, kid! You. Know, what place this is? Just, barging in?”

Constantine slowly turned to look at the “storm cloud” producing the thunder and took a step back, then another—not out of fear, but because the figure behind him was almost over seven feet tall. Constantine didn’t want to foolishly crane his neck way up.

The flattened face with its lion-like nose and nearly two-inch-thick lips, the dark red, messy hair, and shoulders almost three times as wide as the youth’s instantly reminded Constantine of the flesh-eating Barbarians of the Western Frontier. But this big fellow before him didn’t seem entirely uncivilized. A pitiful linen shirt, stretched almost to tearing, covered most of his explosive-looking muscles. Pants of the same material, overly bleached to a sickly white, looked neater than Constantine’s current state.

He was currently carrying a large object wrapped in white cloth over his shoulder, looking like a bookshelf or something. The thing, nearly half the size of a small carriage, was clearly not light at all, yet he supported it effortlessly with one hand and shoulder, as if it were just a small box.

“Scram… further away, kid! This isn’t a, playing, place!” The giant’s face twisted, making his features even more terrifying. But from the raised corner of his mouth, Constantine guessed he was just trying to smile. “If, Noble masters see, they’ll, whip your behind! With salty water! Make you scream for momma!” The Giant made a shooing gesture with his free hand, offering a rather friendly warning.

Constantine rubbed his nose and stepped aside with a smile. Clearly, he had been blocking the other’s work path, and the other had simply mistaken Constantine for a Commoner kid running amok.