Within the top floor of the Institute’s magic tower, silence prevailed. Roland stood there, contemplating a tantalizing offer. She knew one of his deepest, darkest secrets, but for now, it seemed she wouldn’t reveal it. Surprisingly, the thought of his father discovering his true identity no longer bothered him as much as it once had, thanks largely to his growing strength and independence.
This all began with the appearance of a strange, temporary knight assigned as his shadow, one that tried to kill him. He had assumed one of his siblings or their mothers was behind it but he never suspected his father. By this point, he had already risen above his siblings and their mothers; they likely couldn’t oppose him, and few assassins would dare take on someone of his status. The greater concern was the awkwardness of explaining everything and the possibility that his father might try to forcefully reclaim him or even appeal to the Valerian Duke for assistance.
Roland wasn’t certain of his father’s exact standing within the military hierarchy. As a Lord Marshal, his father commanded a large number of troops, and although he belonged to the royalist faction, that didn’t mean his voice would be dismissed by their opposition. In times of crisis, factions from the same kingdom often found common ground. The Duke, enticed by the prospect of indebting a potential Tier 4 class holder, would likely grant such a favor.
“Your library, you say?”
Roland asked, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.
“What sort of knowledge does it contain?”
Yavenna’s smile widened, a hint of pride gleaming in her violet eyes.
“It houses ancient texts, rare spell tomes, and research that spans centuries. You’ll find information on runic magic, enchantments, and even some forbidden arts that aren’t available to the general faculty. It’s a treasure trove for any mage seeking deeper understanding.”
He could tell she was exaggerating to some extent, but he couldn’t underestimate the hidden knowledge stored in that library. After all, it was a book from there that had enabled him to finally construct the runic prosthetic. He knew that knowledge was power, and he hadn’t even fully explored the Institute’s main library yet. Roland wasn’t ready to abandon this place as there was still so much he wanted to accomplish here. The Institute also served as an excellent teleportation hub, and he intended to investigate each of the elemental towers and their tower spirits to strengthen his own.
After hearing what he would receive in return, the exchange no longer felt like blackmail; it actually seemed like a good deal. With his teleportation gate, he could visit the Institute in an instant. When thinking of it as a weekend side job, it didn’t sound so bad. He could still spend most of the week back in Albrook and even return there each night if he wished.
“How exactly would my curriculum look? And what do you expect me to do here?”
“Hah, I knew you could not resist my library’s lure~”
Yavenna chuckled, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
“You’ll continue with your lectures in runic theory and remain an active member of the Runic Department. Fulfill your duties as you were before, without raising suspicion. But more importantly, I need you to keep a close eye on the other Departments.”
“I see. Would a report twice a week suffice?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!”
Yavenna replied, clearly intrigued by his suggestion. This method was common practice in Roland’s more modern world. Recording his findings in writing or saving them to a runic device would be much simpler than meeting with her in person each week. Efficiency was his priority, and Yavenna seemed to appreciate his streamlined approach.
“I could also install a master console in your office, or somewhere else in the tower. It would make using the runic monitoring system much easier.”
He tapped his chin, his metallic gloves clanking against his helmet as he was already considering ways to streamline the work. If he could automate most of the process, he could minimize the time spent on these investigations. But as he was mulling over these ideas, he noticed the Arch-Magus watching him with an oddly knowing smile.
“If you’re already contemplating such solutions,”
She said with a raised eyebrow.
“Does that mean you accept my offer?”
Roland's gaze flickered toward Yavenna, meeting her curious smile. He had weighed his options, but her offer was too compelling to dismiss. Her library would give him access to knowledge he craved, and her offer also protected him against Wentworth. At the time being, he felt like he was not quite fit to face someone at that level. His strength had been tested and he failed to meet his own expectations. The world was still big and before he truly faced it, a few things needed to be done.
“Yes, Headmistress. I accept.”
Roland inclined his head with a hint of formality, signaling the temporary deal between them. He wasn’t sure what the specifics of it was but he didn’t need to wait long as Yavenna came prepared.
“Great, then please, sign on the dotted line.”
Before he could pose any questions a quill along with a long parchment floated towards him. It was a magical contract, a type that he had signed many times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo so before signing anything, he read through.
Initially, he had assumed that his father would disregard his family obligations and abandon Robert. But after appearing at the duel, it seemed more likely that his father would continue investigating. Perhaps, if he could offer some closure to this matter, he could prevent further complications.
From his inventory, he retrieved a small cube etched with intricate mini-runes. Placing it in the center of his palm, he channeled a large amount of mana into the object. The cube began to glow, its runes shimmering as a wave of greenish magical energy enveloped the metallic form, gradually molding it into the shape of a large swallow, composed entirely of mana - similar to the one Roland used for exchanging letters with Arion.
‘I wonder how they will react after they see this...”
The magic-formed bird took flight, shimmering briefly before transforming into a beam of light. It shot upward, then split into two beams, each veering off in a different direction. Roland watched the spell for a moment before turning away, his next destination the forge, where his assistant was being held back by his enthusiastic peers. He headed toward the forge, his steps growing lighter with the knowledge that he had a few days to tie up affairs in Albrook. For once, things seemed to be aligning in his favor, though he knew better than to trust too deeply in luck.
When he reached the forge, Roland found Bernir in a boisterous state, slouched over an anvil, laughing uproariously alongside the dwarves. They were cheering each other with tales of past escapades, tankards raised high, their cheeks red from both the heat of the forge and the strength of their drink. Bernir, caught up in the camaraderie, barely noticed Roland enter until a dwarf elbowed him and nodded in Roland’s direction.
“Boss! Ur... ere...! URPPPPppp.”
Bernir called out, stumbling over his words, then letting out an ear-splitting burp, which the other dwarves cheered on. It seemed that the once-outcasted half-dwarf had finally found a group that accepted him. These were the same dwarves he had worked with during Robert’s duel, and it was clear they had formed a strong bond through the hardships they had faced while assembling the power armor. Roland wasn’t sure if he should feel good or bad for the state Bernir was in. He was in high spirits but he promised someone that he would get him home in one piece and it was time to leave
“Bernir...”
“Bossss!”
He slurred, his face flushed.
“I swear these dwarves... best company I've had since Albrook!”
“I’m sure they are but I’m afraid it’s time we head back.“
Bernir’s face fell slightly, but he managed a lopsided grin.
“Aye, I suppose we’ve a few things to work on, eh? Let’s then aye? But before I go, one last toast for the greatest boss ever!”
“Aye!”
Roland gave a final nod to the dwarves, who raised their tankards in farewell. Beside him, Bernir stumbled along, his arm slung over Roland’s shoulder for support. As they made their way back, Roland wondered if he should have packed a potion to counteract drunkenness. A cleansing spell could work, but at the Institute, too many eyes were on him. It was better to head directly to the tower and use the teleporter without drawing attention. No need for farewells as he’d be returning soon enough and likely staying for quite a while.
Roland carefully maneuvered Bernir into the teleporter chamber. There, the gate and the mage responsible for it was already waiting. The room filled with a hum of magical energy, and in an instant, they were back in Albrook, emerging from the shimmering portal within Roland’s workshop underground.
As the teleportation’s magical effects faded, Bernir swayed and blinked, looking around with a groggy sense of recognition. Roland steadied him with a firm grip, helping him navigate the few remaining steps to the elevator.
“Come on, Bernir. Let’s get you back into the house.”
Roland said, his tone somewhere between amused and resigned. He could just cast a spell at this point but he wasn’t sure if he should. Perhaps letting Bernir have a splitting headache the next day would keep him from drinking as much.
Once they reached the top floor and stepped out, two familiar figures greeted them: Elodia and Bernir’s wife, Dyana. While their child was with Roland’s wife, Dyana was charging toward them with a decidedly menacing look on her face.
“Bernir! Just where in the realms have you been? and why do you smell like an alehouse on festival night?”
“Uh... Boss? Help me out here.”
Bernir looked at Roland with pleading eyes but after seeing Dyana’s maddened visage, he just retreated.
“Sorry... you’re on your own with this one...”
Bernir shot Roland a betrayed look as he realized there would be no escape from his wife’s wrath. There was no escape, her sharp gaze was firmly affixed on him and his haggard clothes and he would probably not hear the end of it for a while...