Chapter 62: Eve

"Incorrect pronunciation, follow me: Enzuil~."

Here stood the Eye of Eternal Vision Research Institute, the renowned headquarters of the Red Robe Mage Guild's divination school. Deep within this institution, two male red-robed mages engaged in fervent discussion over several spell scrolls. To be precise, one was teaching, the other, learning.

"Enz~"

"No, no, that preceding syllable was too light, start over," Pan was abruptly interrupted midway through his recitation.

"This is the forty-seventh time," Pan shook his head, looking somewhat helpless at the impassioned Hughes. "Must it be pronounced with such precision? After all, this spell belongs to someone else."

"Of course. Through such exercises, you can experience the process other mages go through in learning this spell. It's a crucial experience," Hughes explained, extending his hands. "Once you master this process, learning any spell in the future will be twice as efficient."

"But the issue is, I've already mastered this spell," Pan remarked, reciting half a verse of incantation. A wave of arcane energy rippled from his hand, extinguishing the magical flames surrounding them with crisp sounds.

"Dispel Magic!"

"Oh? So swiftly?" Hughes looked at Pan with astonishment.

"Naturally, I used six scrolls just to study this spell," Pan replied wryly.

"Uh..." Hughes paused for a moment, then asked, "Are all low-level mages so affluent these days?"

Extracting information from formed spells can indeed significantly shorten the time required to learn them. However, third-level spell scrolls already fetch a considerable price. Even affluent families couldn't sustain the cost of burning scrolls to learn magic in abundance.

"To hasten my mastery of this spell, I don't mind squandering a bit more." Pan shrugged, reflecting the ancient attitude of arcane engineers towards magical research. They often relied on seas of constructs and an array of arcane machineries to obliterate their foes, leaving little energy for spell research. Though they possessed sufficient understanding of arcane principles to delve into advanced spells, they preferred learning directly from spell scrolls rather than spending time delving into the essence of a spell.

"In such a manner, you would become a rather negligent arcane researcher," Hughes remarked, his words tinged with bitterness, evidently lacking the means to study spells in this manner, or perhaps having the means but never utilized them.

For learning a spell from scratch indeed presented an excellent opportunity to gain arcane experience and insights.

"Being a mere spellcaster isn't too bad either," Pan said nonchalantly. "Perhaps. You seem more suited to leading the charge in battle with your staff, never capable of reclining in a mage tower, orchestrating everything," Hughes retorted, his tone now laced with sarcasm. Suddenly noticing someone appearing in the corridor, he hastily called out, "Lijita, is dinner ready?"

Observing the female mage approaching from the side, Pan felt a peculiar sensation stirring within him. In recent days, aside from his studies on thaumaturgy, he had spent most of his time sparring spells with Hughes. The red-robed mage of the transmutation school was not one to withhold knowledge, and they had engaged in deep exchanges on protective magic.

The reason for being of the abjuration school lies in the limited repertoire of spells they both can bring forth for discussion—As a mage specializing in enchantment, and to alleviate the strain of intricate spells on innate talent, Pan deliberately eschewed the schools of transmutation and illusion. Following his formal induction into the ranks of the Red Robes, he was yet to eschew another school, quite likely that of divination—since he had yet to master the high-level spells of this school, he was contemplating whether to relinquish this type of magic altogether.

As for the three schools of magic Hughes had eschewed, Pan remained unaware.

Because this was a secret.

To what extent would a mage be foolish enough to casually divulge which spells they were incapable of using to others?

Hence, among the Red Robes, unless exceptionally intimate, candid exchanges of magical knowledge were scarcely to be found.

Most mages refrained from eschewing abjuration spells, hence, they could be brought forth for discussion to a certain extent, seldom traversing into contentious territory. Of course, the occurrence of any conflicts or sordid confrontations arising from the eschewing of abjuration spells by non-mainstream Red Robes was a rare event.

Through his interactions with Hughes, Pan gradually discerned that the weariness the Red Robe harbored towards the Mage Guild was indeed sincere, though not outwardly expressed. His sentiments were seldom voiced, but rather manifested in minor details—such as habitually avoiding interactions with other Red Robes besides himself and Lijita, refraining from discussing guild matters, and dedicating his time solely to the study of history and magic. In sum, he was a misfit within the atmosphere of the Mage Guild.

Apart from being somewhat indolent, Pan vaguely sensed a semblance of his former self in Hughes.

So, their companionship was quite delightful, with little spoken beyond spells and history, and Pan never broached any other topics voluntarily.

However, Pan's perception of Lijita was somewhat peculiar.

He had a clear understanding of desires and emotions; he knew well that a relationship uninitiated would not mature into something substantive. Both parties treated it as inconsequential. Yet, Lijita's character and history left a profound impression on Pan, reminding him that this dangerous woman was best avoided.

She was one who possessed a strong desire for control, though not always rational, yet maintained her composure amidst madness—a quintessential Red Robe mage.

This profound impression lingered, difficult to ignore; every time Pan laid eyes on Lijita, he felt a sense of unease stemming from this realization.

"Oh, no, it's Sean's mentor who's come."

"...Ah, I see." Pan sighed, then rose to tidy his black apprentice robe before leaving the room.

"Ah..." Watching Pan depart, Hughes shook his head. "What a pity. He's not someone I dislike."

"Isn't that good? We'll be colleagues from now on." Lijita suddenly smiled.

"Well, I'd rather not be."

"I always say you're fond of evading reality..." Lijita glanced at Hughes, then gracefully turned and walked away, the sound of her high-soled leather boots tapping against the floor.

Hughes sighed helplessly.

...Dhemmi.The Black Horse and the Pale Moon.

In the early morning, a maiden wiped the bar counter, her hand suddenly slipping, causing a glass to fall to the ground, emitting two crisp sounds. Fortunately, the wooden floor was not overly firm, and the wooden glass would not easily shatter. Nonetheless, the noise was enough to alert the landlady emerging from the backstage.

"What's the matter, darling?" She approached, her gaze full of concern as she observed the distracted and pallid face of the girl picking up the bottle from the ground. Placing her hand on the girl's forehead, she remarked, "You look quite unwell."

"I'm feeling a bit off," sighed Hikole. "I don't know what it is, but I just feel unsettled."

"Oh? Let me guess~" Vica embraced the girl from behind. "Are you thinking about him?"

"Well... if he's with my father, could they encounter danger?"

"Why do you always think of danger? Don't you have any faith in them at all?"

"It's just because I'm powerless," Hikole sighed, lifting her head. "I have neither the magical talent nor the ability to wield a sword in battle. Most of my time for honing skills has gone to waste. If only I could be where they stand, I'd at least know what they're facing."

"...Hmm~ It's unnecessary to force yourself into matters beyond your scope of power. If you're worried, just pray for divine protection!" Vica patted Hikole's head.

"Oh? Is it time for prayers again?" Hikole blinked. "Silly me, it's the last day of March, the Festival of Wealth." Vica sighed, patting her own forehead, then pulled the girl towards the door.

The thoroughfare teemed with a bustling crowd.

"How lively it is~" Hikole exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with admiration.

"Yes, indeed. The newly appointed mayor is one of our faithful, you know. The grand market and the temple of the Lady have just been renovated," Vica said, embracing Hikole's neck and leaning against the pillar of the tavern. "The influence of the Lady's church has been growing significantly in this country in recent years..."

Ever since the appointment of the astute Reverend Wockin as the governor of the Teraltros Province twenty years ago, the Wockin Church had experienced some degree of development in Sael due to his shrewd governance. Although it paled in comparison to the traditional gods like Bane and Shar, not to mention the position of the Church of the Fire Elemental Lord Kossus in Sael, it was much better than the previous indifference.

The once dominant Riem family, which ruled the entire School of Transmutation, also vigorously promoted the faith of the Lady of Wealth—this was related to their family's political alignment—they were staunch advocates of commercial expansion strategies.

However, matters of the upper echelon generally had little relevance to the lower classes, and now there existed only a group of worshipers making their way to the temple of the Lady.

A splendid fountain stood tall in the center of the market, silver coins flew from the hands of the visitors into the clear pool, creating bright ripples, and flowers surrounded the temple, heralding a grand celebration.

Hikole gazed at the closed gates of the temple, a solemn feeling suddenly rising within her heart.

...

"Silence!"

With a single strike of the gavel from the chief podium, the entire hall fell into silence.

This is the highest hall within the realm of Sael.

Undoubtedly so, for this hall is perched atop the Sael Mountains.

Those who can access this place are all official members of the Red Robe Mage Association, although there are occasional exceptions, provided one can enter the venue under the vigilant guard, such as apprentices accompanied by their masters.

Clad in a long robe, Panni stood in the shadows of this hall, unable to discern the faces of those seated high above. He dared not make any movement in the presence of these mighty forces—only the heavens know how many higher-level divine effects shroud this place.

"What happens here is of great importance to you," these were the words spoken by Januash when he escorted him inside.

In his hands was a stack of documents given to him by his mentor, written in magical script, discernible through sensory effects that read out in voice and light. Although he dared not lift his gaze, he knew from the documents that the person on the chief podium was Luran Bwah, the deputy of the Protection Division. While this position may not be the most prestigious within the Red Robe Mage Association, the surname of this individual carries significant weight in the history of the Mage Association; he is a direct descendant of the Red Robe Mage Association leader and Archmage Isaz Bwah, who ignited the Sael Independence War four hundred years ago.

This family has been the leader of the six major aristocrats since the beginning of the Sael independence.

Although the Chief Necromancer once ruled with an iron fist, his reputation has been greatly diminished, and he has gradually withdrawn from the politics of the Mage Association. In the Upper Senate Tribunal, responsible for mediating disputes among the noble families, this Protection Mage wields the highest authority.

So, though his power might not be the greatest, the forces standing behind him were sufficient to support him in raising his voice resoundingly. Now, he sternly reproached the person seated on the other side of the dais: "Santard, I, on behalf of the Sael Council, am questioning you. It has been a year, and your family's espionage unit still hasn't traced the origins of the Unseen. You must understand, last month another master was attacked due to your delays and negligence. Now, even the Rym family is beginning to doubt your operational capabilities."

Upon hearing this interrogation from the noble, Panni swiftly flipped through the documents.

Santard, hailing from the Frass family, a high-ranking Archmage of the Ring, who controls Sael's largest intelligence network. This was a person from the same family. He glanced at Januash, suddenly understanding the source of that previous assignment.

While many believed that mages from the Divination School were Sael's primary source of intelligence, the reality was different. While Divination spells held great power, traditional scouts and spies were still indispensable. Therefore, Sael had specialized intelligence agencies.

The current head of the espionage unit was none other than Santard, from the Illusion School.

"Oh, colleagues from Rym," this Illusionist was rough-looking and short, with a large red nose. However, the menacing scar on his forehead completely overshadowed his unimpressive appearance, and now he exaggeratedly addressed the section of seats to the east: "You don't even trust us anymore?"

"Santard, it's not that we are unwilling to trust you, but our family has lost two high-ranking mages," spoke a male mage from the other side of the dais, his features obscured. "The Frass's lack of efficacy in their actions makes it difficult for us to continue placing our trust in them. If your family is unable to bear the weight of the intelligence system, then let those more adept at such matters take charge."

Robert Rym, Panni found the name corresponding to the voice in the documents in his hand, a Transmutation Quadrant, one of the spokespersons for the Rym family. Panni noticed that few Chiefs were present at this speaking meeting.

Upon seeing this, Panni suddenly realized that there was no information about any Chief in the materials given to him by his mentor, evidently because Chiefs rarely attended or did not attend such meetings.

He pondered, perhaps for Chiefs who had reached the pinnacle of political status in Sael, sending a spokesperson to this meeting would suffice.

"Your intelligence department's efficiency is simply abysmal, Santard," expressed Robert Rym, venting his dissatisfaction, echoed by the spokesperson for the Odysseus family on the other side, Meckensom.

The surrounding individuals voiced their condemnation, and Panni frowned, understanding that this was an opportunity for other families to challenge the Frass and seize power from them.

Santard's expression didn't look too good, but the hint of a cold smile at the corner of his mouth never disappeared.

"Hehehe, a group of high-ranking mages, squabbling like children here. I wonder what others would think if they saw," spoke a deep voice from the darkest corner of the room.

The people in the assembly hall turned their gazes, as the speaker was the Necromancy Vice-Chairman, Nosnoah. Here, he represented the will of that figure.

"Nosnoah! What do you mean? There have been no deaths in the Dalamos family!" Meckensom squinted his eyes in that direction, his anger evident. "I am well aware that Santard was endorsed by your clan chief and chief, but please do not ignore the opinions of other members of the Mage Council."

"Oh? Indeed, no one has died in Dalamos, but Mr. Meckensom, there have been no deaths in your family either. Why, then, are you so agitated?"

"No deaths?" Meckensom seemed suddenly agitated, roaring from his seat. "My nephew, Sutmerk, died just a few days ago, under mysterious circumstances."

"Mysterious, so it must be blamed on the Insensates?" Nosnoah chuckled.

"What do you mean by that, Nosnoah?" Meckensom narrowed his eyes slightly at Santard. "You should know that the Prophesy Quadrant, Lord Yefan, recently deduced the identity of that demon. Now the entire Mage Council knows who it is. What's this? Are you trying to shift the blame for your master?"

"That is indeed a question," Nosnoah snorted, his tone suddenly puzzled. "Lord Meckensom, is there someone secretly supporting them, allowing this demon to develop followers within our borders, even beyond the detection of our intelligence agencies?"

A murmur arose below, and Pennie had already put away the documents, glancing at Janhwa, who remained silent, lowering his head, already knowing what would happen next.

Meckensom's expression stiffened slightly, then he turned calmly to Santard. "This matter must be addressed by our esteemed colleague."

"In fact, I've just discovered the cause of your nephew's death," Santard said indifferently, tossing out a parcel that landed in the center of the court, scattering to reveal a bewitched human skull. The mages present brightened their eyes with the Angel of Penfeather, scrutinizing the appearance of the deceased, causing a commotion.

"Lord Meckensom, this person colluded with the Insensates Church in the North to disrupt the internal war in Leserman, attempting to justify military action. Of course—these are all speculations from my intelligence officers. However, the traces of voluntary demonization on this skull are quite evident. I would like to ask—" The diminutive illusionist stared at the increasingly rigid Meckensom, his smile strained. "He was your nephew, wasn't he?"

The council chamber erupted into noise.