Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 665 - 664: An Old Friend Arrives

Upon hearing Jenni’s words, Mark seemed momentarily stunned, as if he hadn’t yet grasped the situation before him—or perhaps those fully armed Cecil soldiers made this somewhat timid young man too nervous, causing him to forget what he should say. But Jenni didn’t get angry, instead, she patiently repeated: "Go tell the mentor that I am back."

This time, Mark finally came to his senses: "Ah, ah, okay... but..."

He suddenly hesitated, organizing his words several times before saying, "But the mentor’s condition isn’t very good right now..."

"Just take me to see him."

"Okay... Jenni."

Mark glanced fearfully at the soldiers behind Jenni, then stepped aside, leaving the entrance to the magic tower open.

Jenni stepped inside and the soldiers guarding her followed closely. The orderly metallic clash of magic armors made the young man at the door shrink his neck; he seemed to want to say something but swallowed his words.

Inside the mage tower, the settings were classical and solemn just like in memory. A fireplace, created by long-lasting illusions, burned brightly in the ground floor lobby, its flames evoking a chilling white reminiscent of ice and snow. The cooling breeze produced by the thermal barrier circulated in the hall, dispelling the seasonal heat. A black-mark shelf stood quietly by the wall with two servants cleaning the dust on it.

An astrolabe was placed in the center of the lobby, which operated automatically under the drive of magic power, simulating the projections of numerous stars invisible during the day.

An arched staircase stretched across the lobby wall, extending upwards, while a half-moon shaped platform with railings floated inside the stairway, moving back and forth driven by magic power.

"...The mentor has finally finished the floating platform installation?" Jenni slightly turned her head and asked Mark, who followed her inside.

"Yes," Mark seemed to have finally adapted a bit and spoke more freely, "finished last year, it took a lot of precious materials."

Jenni nodded but did not say more.

She just remembered that Rebecca should still be leading her research team trying to reconstruct the anti-gravity spell based on elven technology—using a piece of steel plate and a few kilograms of cheap purple copper and synthetic demon crystal to achieve and let it independently operate relying on a small-scale power setup. Last time Rebecca mentioned in Magic Web Communication that she accidentally embedded the prototype in the ceiling, but they had successfully made the device lift.

Though it seemed the "flight" wasn’t very stable...

She shook her head, ignoring the automatic elevator, instead, she walked towards the familiar staircase by memory.

Many faces familiar to her lowered their heads respectfully as she passed.

These people might not know who Jenni is now, might not even recognize this inconspicuous person who was casually sent out to perform royal tasks in the past as a servant apprentice, but they at least recognized the Cecil Legion soldiers and their equipment. Anyone with a bit of discernment could tell that one who is strictly guarded by a troop of soldiers, who can freely enter and exit this area, must be an important figure in the Empire.

Mark followed Jenni, and upon reaching the third floor of the mage tower, the young man whispered: "The mentor is at the magic power nexus..."

"Hmm." Jenni nodded slightly and moved towards the room where the magic power nexus located.

In front of the familiar black wooden door, she hesitated for a few seconds but eventually pushed the door open.

In the wide secret room, the faint glow of magic power lingered between the walls, forming a tangible texture like flowing water, pouring into the sunken pool in the center of the room. An indistinct magic circle covered the entire room floor, densely lined runes stretched from the edge of the circle, extending from the walls up to the ceiling, and at the focal point in the center, a shriveled body leaned on the edge of the magic power pool, half submerged in the pool, half sprawled on the ground.

It was almost a mummy, as if a thin layer of flesh covered bones, with disheveled pale hair, beneath which the visage was completely unfamiliar to Jenni—only those raised eyes remained somewhat familiar.

Jenni slowly walked towards that dried-up body.

Humans, truly a complex species.

The knight defending the walls also oppresses the serfs daily;

The counts and viscounts fighting to the death also take the last bit of grain and property from the peasants;

Those who donate their wealth to support the front lines, send all their children to the walls, burn out their life force dying at the shield nodes...

They are simultaneously the masters of the land, the serfs, the wealth, and... the servants apprentices.

William Birken, a member of the Royal Mage Group, responsible for guarding the guardian node at the west wall, on the fifth day of the siege battle, drove all lower-ranking mages out of the node hall and tied himself to the node crystal.

Now, he is close to death.

Jenni stopped beside the body, slowly bent down, crouched, and sat on the ground—in her past years in life, the floor of this mage tower had always been her chair and bed.

That shriveled head sensed the presence, moving slightly, eyes slowly opened amidst shivers, uttering raspy low words: "Ah... Jenni... you’ve come..."

Jenni quietly gazed at him: "Mentor, long time no see."

The raspy voice sounded again, more serene than Jenni had expected: "Yes, long time... What are you doing now?"

"Empire’s Chief Runesmith."

"...Ah, sounds great."

"You’re dying." Jenni stared into the mentor’s eyes, slowly and clearly.

That shriveled body shifted on the ground, head raising slightly only to drop quickly: "Seems so... so are you here to witness this moment?"

Jenni shook her head slightly, speaking each word carefully: "The defense line of the Crystal Cluster Legion was broken by magical equipment, all based on Ravencrest’s constant and rune logic."

This sentence she rehearsed countless times in her mind, ensuring not a word would be wrong, and more of such words brewed in her heart a year ago—but when she truly had the chance to speak them, she found no pleasure, only emptiness.

The life-force nearly exhausted old mage remained silent for a few seconds before muttering a low response: "I knew it, when I saw the ’Magic Web’, I guessed."

"I’m not here to see your end," Jenni stared at the old mage, tone low, "You owe us an apology—me and Master Ravencrest."

Silence engulfed the room; after a minute of quietness, the old mage’s raspy voice finally sounded: "Seems I indeed was wrong..."

He suddenly broke into a violent cough, after half a minute of coughing, the remaining life-force left his body, rendering his voice even more raspy and low: "...But I won’t apologize."

Jenni surprisedly regarded this individual nearing death with lips moving twice: "You..."

"Transcendents... cannot apologize to slaves..." the voice sporadically admitted, "This is... principle..."

The surprise in Jenni’s eyes gradually faded away. She glanced at her mentor again from head to toe, and then the room plunged into a long, silent deathly stillness once more.

A few minutes later, the Empire’s Chief Runesmith gently exhaled, as if she had put down some heavy burden on her heart. She propped herself up from the ground and slowly stood up—

The floor here was still cold, just like in her memory.

She bowed her head and looked at William Birken: "I understand."

Then she turned around, as if preparing to leave just like that.

"Are you not going to do it?" A hoarse, low voice came from behind, "It wouldn’t be difficult for you today."

Jenni didn’t look back: "You’re already almost dead."

"But doing so might make you feel better."

Jenni took a deep breath and slowly exhaled: "It’s my principle."

"...Oh, that sounds nice."

"Farewell, mentor. Thank you for those two bags of wheat back then."

Jenni walked out of the secret chamber, and the soldiers serving as personal guards immediately stepped forward: "Master?"

"Let’s go, report to the Silver Castle. Also, after William Birken’s death, this Mage Tower will be nationalized."

"Yes!"

The soldiers quickly responded to the order, while Jenni cast a glance at Mark, who looked both nervous and confused, and at the several similarly anxious and bewildered apprentices and assistants not far behind him.

After communicating with the soldiers, they finally fully understood the situation, with some of them now waiting with an attitude almost like awaiting judgment for Jenni to speak.

"Go report to the Administrative Office later—the era of the classical mages is over. Whether you can survive in the new era depends on your own abilities."

With just these words, Jenni turned and left the place with the soldiers.

In the secret chamber where the magic power hub was located, the shimmering magical flow gradually dimmed and calmed.

Amidst the gradually dissipating glow, the withered body soaking in the pool trembled slightly and began to crack inch by inch, turning into pieces.

When all the fragments had fallen into the pool, a hoarse and distorted voice finally echoed in the deserted room: "I am... sorry..."

In the Silver Castle, Gawain met Jenni, who had hurried from the southern borders, in the study.

"I thought you would choose revenge," he said, quite surprised after hearing the soldiers’ report, "or at least... vent a little."

"I once thought about it, but I realized that it’s not in my nature," Jenni said with a slight smile and a shake of her head. "To Master Ravencrest, none of this has meaning anymore. Only those roaring magical machineries and the formulas and numbers printed in textbooks serve as the best commemoration for the deceased."

Gawain looked at Jenni earnestly, seeing only a calm and serene expression on the face of the white-haired girl marked by scars. Evidently, a certain shadow had departed from her.

"Since that’s your choice, then it’s fine. William Birken is a lucky man; he died in the old era, which is much luckier than many obstinate aristocrats who survived the siege war," he said with a shake of his head. "Let’s not talk about this now. Sit down; we have many things to do in this city, and I need to discuss them with you properly."

Jenni sat down on the high-backed chair by the desk, a smile on her face: "I’m prepared—before I came, Rebecca even told me to try and bring back as many books on classical spell moulds as possible."

Gawain thought for a moment, recalling the spectacular scene he saw after entering the royal library and the Royal Mage Association’s collection room, then spread his hands with a smile: "You’ll certainly have your wish fulfilled—this is indeed a treasure trove."

...

The Silver Castle is indeed a treasure trove in every sense. Centuries of accumulation by the Moen Royal Family have piled up unimaginable legacies within these castle walls—any storeroom within could easily dazzle a half-elf from the southern borders.

But Amber, armed with her extraordinary willpower, resisted the allure of the jewel storerooms (of course, Gawain’s deterrence helped her resist the temptation). Her entire focus was now immersed in the massive, heavy royal collection of the Moen Royal Family.

In a room deep within Silver Castle, Amber was searching through a large pile of books and scrolls, along with several Intelligence Agency operatives and court scholars working beside her.

"This is the Moen Royal Family’s internal library, including royal secret dossiers and private collections of successive Kings," an elderly, silver-haired court scholar chattered beside Amber, "If you can’t find what you’re looking for outside, then it’s most likely here. But if you can’t find it here either... then it probably doesn’t exist..."

"That would only prove this place’s collection is incomplete," Amber glanced at the old scholar irritably, "Just find a place to rest, don’t overwork yourself; if an eminent scholar like you suddenly keels over, someone might plaster me onto a wall..."

The scholar retreated to the side with a resigned expression, leaving Amber to continue her search among the bookshelves. But she had barely been at it for half a minute before she suddenly halted, turned, and aimed a kick at an empty spot between the bookshelves—

Before she could kick out, a figure swiftly materialized from thin air and hastily moved aside.

"If you’d been a moment slower, I’d have kicked you," Amber scowled at Dark Raven. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m here to report," Dark Raven stood at a safe distance, reporting to her new superior, "The roster of all royal shadow guards has been completed, including everyone’s areas of expertise and service experience."

"Good, just deliver it to my office. I’ll go through it slowly after I return—the Intelligence Agency and Steel Cavalry both need people, as long as you get retrained properly, you can all be of use."

Dark Raven let out a small sigh of relief and lowered his head: "I am willing to follow orders."

He then looked around at the busy scene and couldn’t help but ask: "Have you not found what you’re looking for yet?"

"Of course not, or else why would I still be here," Amber rolled her eyes, "there’s so much, who knows how long it’ll take to find..."

Dark Raven pondered: "What exactly are you looking for?"

"An unrecorded surname, a noble no one knows... probably noble," Amber said offhandedly, "His name is Sali Randolph, a Transcendent, yet there’s no information about this surname anywhere."

She paused as if struck by a thought, then stared at Dark Raven while stroking her chin: "You don’t happen to have heard of it, right? You know how stories are, full of dramatics..."

"I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of that name or surname either..." Dark Raven shook his head, but before Amber could roll her eyes, he added, "But if the person you’re looking for is a ’Secret Knight’... then maybe there could be clues in the royal shadow guard’s secret dossiers."