Chapter 4
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Not just anyone was allowed to enter the Central Tower.
The only reason Aaron could stride through it so confidently was because he was a Gold Hand Holy Knight.
Had he been merely a Silver Hand, he would never have been permitted to enter the Central Tower without authorization.
Gold Hand Holy Knights were granted privileges that were almost absolute within the kingdom. Absolute honor. Absolute privilege.
Everywhere he went, people looked at him with admiration.
He could not allow those admiring gazes to turn into looks of contempt directed at a shameless, irresponsible man who had taken an innocent maiden’s virginity in a single night’s mistake and then pretended nothing had happened.
“I wonder if he’s here…”
Aaron had heard that Grand Archmage Freyan lived within the Central Tower.
Rumor had it that the gloomy wizard devoted himself entirely to his research here, rarely, if ever, setting foot outside.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Aaron rapped on the door of the chamber at the very top of the tower.
There was no response.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He knocked again.
“Isn’t anyone here?”
If Freyan was absent, would he have to wait?
Aaron hesitated. His situation was becoming increasingly urgent. He had no idea when this ticking time bomb might explode.
He needed to resolve the matter as quickly as possible. So where in the world had that blasted wizard disappeared to?
“Lord Freyan!”
Unable to contain his impatience, Aaron began pounding on the door.
If anyone saw him now, they’d probably think he’d lost his mind.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have given a wizard the time of day. Yet here he was, desperately seeking one out. The irony was almost laughable.
“Freya—!”
At that moment, the door swung open.
A wizard cloaked in a dark gray robe peered at Aaron through the narrow opening. The hood was pulled so low that the interior was shrouded in shadow, completely obscuring the wizard’s face.
Then again, what did the wizard’s appearance matter?
Rumor had it that Grand Archmage Freyan was well over a hundred years old, his face covered in warts and deep wrinkles. If anything, it was better not to see it.
“What brings you here, Sir Schmidt?”
The voice that drifted from beneath the hood caught Aaron completely off guard.
He had expected the sinister, rasping voice of an old man. Instead, it was soft and clear.
More importantly… It was a woman’s voice.
“Sir Schmidt?”
Startled by the unexpected voice, Aaron stood frozen for a moment before hastily collecting himself.
“Ah, Grand Archmage Freyan. I came because I have an important favor to ask of you.”
“Of me, you say?”
The hooded figure tilted her head in puzzlement.
“Well… I’d prefer to explain it inside first…”
What he was about to discuss was something that absolutely could not be overheard.
As Aaron glanced nervously up and down the corridor, the wizard stepped aside from the doorway. An invitation to enter.
Clink.
Aaron eyed the teacup the wizard had placed before him with open suspicion.
Why was it that anything offered by a wizard felt as though it had some strange potion mixed into it?
It was his first time setting foot inside a wizard’s study, and the sight was nothing like he had expected.
There were no dried corpses. No monster skeletons. None of the gruesome things the rumors spoke of.
According to popular gossip, a wizard’s laboratory should have been filled with corpses stolen from graves, zombies, and the bones and carcasses of creatures not of this world hanging from every available surface. A massive cauldron bubbling with an ominous green liquid should have dominated the room.
Instead, there was nothing of the sort.
Every wall was lined from floor to ceiling with towering bookshelves packed tightly with old, thick tomes.
Books left half-read were piled not only across the desk but also on the bed and even the floor, forming miniature mountains wherever there was space.
The room was, in a word, a graveyard of books. The Grand Archmage lived surrounded by an overwhelming sea of them.
Does he spend every day here doing nothing but reading?
When he’d heard the word research, Aaron had imagined bizarre magical experiments. Instead, it seemed the object of study was simply books. What an unbearably dull way to live.
“Now then, what is this favor you wish to ask of me?”
For a fleeting moment, Aaron was tempted to rip the robe off Freyan and finally see the face hidden beneath it.
But he restrained himself.
He couldn’t very well commit such an act of rudeness when he was here to beg for help.
“I’ve found myself in an extremely difficult situation. I truly need your assistance, Grand Archmage. Please, just this once, help me.”
A mixture of desperation and earnest pleading was written plainly across Aaron’s face.
The wizard regarded him silently for a long moment.
“I think it would be best if I heard the details first, and then decided whether this is something I can help you with.”
“The thing is…”
It was an embarrassing story to tell, but he had no choice.
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