Chapter Twenty-Four: Speculation and Conjecture

The badge was shaped like a six-pointed star, engraved with the unique magical patterns of mages, denoting Weir’s rank—a Third-Tier Mage. The faint gray-blue badge lacked any dazzling or radiant colors, but the golden lines that formed the patterns were exquisitely delicate and graceful, exuding an understated yet luxurious beauty. As Weir held the badge in his hand, he could clearly sense a subtle magical fluctuation emanating from it. This distinctive wave served as a mark of authenticity; mages could identify genuine badges by this very resonance.

“Your identity has been recorded and reported. From now on, you’ll receive ten gold coins from the Mage Guild every month—a gold coin is worth ten silver coins or a hundred copper coins, the equivalent of an average commoner’s annual income. According to your skills and magical rank, the Guild has assigned you a laboratory and an office. You can have someone show you around whenever you like.”

As the fair-faced Semily spoke to Weir, Lise suddenly entered from outside. She smiled at Weir in greeting, then went to Semily’s side and, with a slightly odd tone, said, “Semily, someone from above has arrived.”

“Hm?”

Hearing this, Semily paused, but asked no further questions. He headed straight for the door, then, as if suddenly recalling something, turned back to Lise. “Lise, take this youngster on a tour of the Mage Guild.”

“Certainly!” Lise nodded. Waiting until Semily left the room, she finally turned her gaze toward Weir.

“So, you’re Cyathea Weir?” Lise smiled at him. Whether by intention or by virtue of her features, her slight smile suddenly exuded a striking allure.

“I heard you don’t have a place to stay yet?” Lise’s voice was enchantingly soft, almost whispery, beguiling to the ear. Her beautiful eyes blinked at Weir as if she were admiring a precious jewel.

“Yes.” Though unsure of Lise’s intentions, Weir nodded honestly. Since his arrival in this era, he indeed had nowhere to live. As for Wei Ling’s home, he certainly couldn’t admit to Lise that he was lodging in the Count’s manor.

Upon hearing his answer, Lise’s smile grew more pronounced. Her voluptuous figure leaned closer to Weir, her tone sultry and coquettish. “Since you have nowhere to stay, why not move into my room for a while? Oh, by the way, the fire spells you cast during your duel with Semily seemed different from regular fire magic—especially that Explosive Flame. Could you tell me about it?”

It was only then that Weir understood Lise’s intent. His spells were indeed modified versions of traditional magic, different both in power and mana consumption. He hadn’t expected Lise’s observation to be so keen as to notice this. He smiled a little awkwardly, about to reply, when Vist, standing behind him, suddenly cleared her throat and said coldly to Lise, “Don’t forget, your room is also mine. I won’t allow a man to enter it!”

“Oh? But Weir is just a child, isn’t he?” Lise replied slyly, reaching out as if to embrace Weir. Unable to bear her enthusiasm, Weir quickly dodged and retreated to Vist’s side. “There’s no problem sharing magical knowledge; in fact, I look forward to learning from you as well. But could you show me my office and laboratory first?”

“Of course!” Lise’s face lit up at his acceptance, and without another word, she prepared to take Weir on a thorough tour of the Guild. Just as they were about to leave, Lise turned to Vist. “Oh, right, Vist, go check with Semily—something may have happened.”

———

“Count, sir?”

Semily’s face showed a trace of confusion as he looked at the man before him, dressed in a pitch-black cloak. Though the cloak covered him entirely, one could see from his outline the military armor beneath—tall, straight-backed, and exuding a faint air of menace.

“Yes. You had best depart today.” The cloaked man’s voice was quiet but curt, brooking no argument.

“But why us? You know that mages aren’t suited for this sort of task,” Semily protested, frowning, his tone revealing his reluctance.

“There’s no need for you to worry about anything else. Your only task is to select trustworthy and capable mages from the Guild, then escort the Count safely to the Imperial Capital. That is all.”

“Hmph! If you don’t explain what’s really going on, I’m afraid your mission will come to nothing,” Semily retorted, his otherwise frail appearance belying an inner resolve.

“The letter I gave you explains everything. As for the details, that is for you to decide.” The cloaked man snorted, then turned and left the Guild without another word.

“Damn soldier!” Semily muttered under his breath, picking up the parchment on his desk for another careful read, just as Vist entered. He quickly beckoned her over and handed her the parchment.

After reading its contents, Vist’s brows furrowed slightly. “Did you notice anything strange?”

“The handwriting is definitely Master Macro Jack’s, but it seems he’s withheld most of the details, as if not wanting us to know,” Vist observed.

Semily nodded in agreement. “What’s more, Macro specifically noted that no one outside the Guild must learn of this. Clearly, it’s tied to the Spirit Hall. And since we’re to escort the Count, I suspect there’s trouble brewing between the royal family, the nobility, and the Spirit Hall. What puzzles me is, why did Macro send the letter, not our mentor?”

“It is odd. The royals and nobility have no shortage of loyal elites, and the messenger just now was clearly a military expert. The military could handle this alone—so why involve us?” Vist pondered. Suddenly, a bold hypothesis struck her. “Could it be that the royal family and Spirit Hall are preparing for a major move, so the nobility and military must lie low?”

Her own suggestion startled her. If she was right, the impending conflict between the royal family, nobility, military, and Spirit Hall could mean a struggle for the sole sovereignty of the Empire—a civil war unlike any before.

“No, that can’t be.” Semily shook his head. “If that were the case, the letter would have come from our mentor, not just Master Macro Jack. Besides, Count Charles isn’t a decisive figure in such a war. What we can be sure of is that something major has happened within the Empire—serious enough that all factions must tread carefully and avoid drawing attention. And the Count is clearly entangled in it.”

Semily’s reasoning was indeed astute; by intuition alone he’d grasped the situation’s gravity. The event he predicted would soon shake the entire Empire—though that is a tale for another time.

“So what should we do?” Vist, realizing the seriousness, asked urgently.

“There’s nothing else for us to do but ensure the Count’s safe escort to the Imperial Capital,” Semily replied gravely. After a moment’s thought, he pulled out a fresh parchment and listed the names of suitable mages for the mission. After writing over a dozen names, Semily paused, considered, and then added one final name at the bottom—Cyathea Weir.