6:

  A luxurious carriage that was drawn by four Northern Warhorses sped down the outer avenue of the Velmoria Estate, lined by Silveroak Trees. Located in the most exclusive quarter of the city, the Noble’s Quarter, there was a reason why the Velmoria Estate occupied so much land besides a simple show of force and grandeur. The entire outer portion of the Estate was home to a breathtaking flower garden and the outer gates were manned by another dozen or so knights of House Caravine, but it was seldom used by House Velmoria.

  Its true purpose was to give any intruders, accidental or otherwise, to turn back before they crossed into the Inner Estate and were frozen to death by the Fourth-Circle Formation Type Spell that guarded it. While prominent mages and knights from Noble Families were well aware of the primary defenses of the Velmoria Estate, the same could not be considered true for the common populace, wandering Aura Knights and loose Mages.

  Another member of House Caravine, one that had been hiding in a tree within the Inner Estate, his presence completely going undetected to Lucan’s Mana Sight, had revealed himself once Janis had called out his name.

  Daven Caravine was also a Reinforcement Aura Expert but his appearance displayed visible aging, which meant that the man was significantly older, with his graying hair, weathered face that was beginning to show wrinkles and his brown eyes lacked the exuberant vitality than Janis’ deep green projected. The man was a branch family member of House Caravine, so reaching Reinforcement Stage alone was an admirable accomplishment, but Lucan had never met the man more than a few times and he didn’t care to talk beyond necessary conversation even now.

  The Caravine Family might not belong to the Duchess, but that did not mean that every member of the family was immune to her tremendous influence.

  A few minutes later, they had exited past the Outer Estate’s gates and the horses led the way onto the main thoroughfare, their reins handled by Daven personally and with expert smoothness while Lucan and Janis sat within the carriage, sitting facing each other.

  “Young Lord, you seem to be in a good mood today,” Janis was the first to break up the awkward silence between them, much to Lucan’s annoyance.

  Good mood my ass. I’m not hungover and my eyes don’t carry the weariness of poor sleep for once, Lucan thought. But you won’t just speak directly, will you? Asshole.

  “I’ve heard there is much for a young mage like myself to learn at the Imperial Academy,” Lucan admitted, in a tone that was markedly more friendly than his usual placidness. “The prospect is exciting.”

  “Indeed,” Janis nodded. “The Academy helped me round out certain flaws in my education, the ones that my uncles and father could not adequately cover because it had been so long since they were at the beginner stages and their experiences differed from mine. Especially my father’s, learning from a true prodigy like him can sometimes be more harmful than it aids oneself.”

  “A well-rounded education, huh?” Lucan said. “That’s what they all say about the Imperial Academy. But despite their grand name and extravagant fees, they refuse to teach what their students truly desire.”

  “True power cannot be bought with wealth, young lord,” Janis answered, noting the bitterness in Lucan’s tone.

  “Trust me, I know,” He replied, as amusement crept up into his tone. “On a different note, do you think you can do me a favor?”

  “Yes, young lord?”

  “Feel free to call me Lucan from now on. Or actually, just speak casually with me.”

  “I cannot do that, Young Lord,” Janis calmly replied.

  “That’s an order.”

  “Very well,” Janis promptly replied, not letting any of the surprise he must have been feeling. Since they had met, not once had Lucan tried to pull rank on him by issuing an order and that was for good reason. Not only would any order he gave be reported to the Duke himself, but the Duchess outranked Lucan when it came to the power of issuing commands, which meant that she could just nullify anything he ordered Janis to do.

  “Thank you,” Lucan replied, his gaze turning outwards, directed beyond the window. The sound of wheels clattering against cobblestones became a constant accompaniment as they sped past the estates of House Velmoria’s vassals, each one more than well spaced from each other yet smaller in grandeur and sprawl compared to the Velmoria Estate. A right turn, past a Guard Checkpoint stationed by one of the vassal family’s knights and a good fifteen minutes later, they were joined by other carriages, albeit none were as eyecatching or as ostentatious as the carriage that was painted in House Velmoria’s colors, driven by the ferocious Northern Warhorses that were each Late Knight-Class Mana Beasts.

  The other carriages gave them a wide berth as they left behind the Noble’s Quarter for the Mercantile Quarter. Through the window, Lucan watched various businesses in motion—- the scent of freshly baked bread wafted by him as one of the numerous small businesses that competed for storefront space on one of the thoroughfares that led to the heart of the Merchant Quarter. He saw a cobbler working on a pair of fashionable leather shoes, a shop selling mana-beast waterskins, a woodworker selling sets of fine wooden cutlery— a collection of ordinary but practical businesses that would have no dearth of customers willing to line up.

  That’s the life I was supposed to live, Lucan thought. Not up here, in a luxurious carriage guarded by two Aura Knights that would give their lives to keep me alive, but down there, trying to ply my own trade or working as an apprentice in any of those numerous stores. Those people do not have a tenth of my status, yet they seem freer than I have ever felt. Happier, too.

  The scenery continued to shift and it wasn’t long before the carriage came to a gentle halt in a fenced reserve area reserved in a corner of the Sky Exchange, the Merchant Quarter’s only open-air town square that served as the heart of the Quarter.

  Lucan stepped out after Janis, who had immediately stepped to his side to accommodate him.

  “I’ll stay here and look after the horses,” Daven said. “The stablehands aren’t qualified to take care of ‘em and they’re hungry.”

  “Noted,” Janis replied.

  Two hours past noon, the Sky Exchange was populated by a sparse few customers. There were three other carriages parked in a fenced parking area, which meant that three or more vassal family’s nobles were out shopping at this time. Wealthy merchants could afford carriages without breaking a sweat, but to do so could be seen as a challenge to the prestige of the Nobility if any of the houses were looking for an excuse to raise a fuss and merchants loathed giving Nobles any reason to intrude upon their business infrastructure. So they limited themselves to horses or travelled on foot while within the city, only travelling via carriage when travelling beyond the city, through cities or in an unfamiliar city where they did not possess any accommodation of their own and sought premises on rent.

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  There were dozens of horses that had their reins looped over hitching posts in a separate, far larger fenced area, near the entrance opposite to the one where the Velmoria Carriage was parked and the horses, ordinary ones that lacked even a lick of mana, were being tended to by equally as many stablehands.

  To have stablehands willing to tend to horses free of charge signalled the kind of establishment the Sky Exchange was. Each of the forty two storefronts in the Sky Exchange were personally granted their tenancy agreement by House Velmoria directly and the criteria for receiving one was to sell products that would bring honor to the north. Exceptional products held to exacting standards was the bare minimum qualification needed to just be eligible to be qualified to rent one of the main storefronts in the Sky Exchange and in return, a part of the exorbitant rentals was heavily subsidized. The lease renewed every year, so the glory of stores would reach their zenith and fade unless they continued to innovate and to the rest of the Market District, it was a challenge— those who considered themselves worthy were free to try and snatch away the prime storefronts from their current occupants and in return, they would gain prestige that would secure them trade routes that would see their goods circulating all across the north

  Lucan had never tried to keep track of the businesses as they kept coming and going and while he had been third and second in line to the position of the heir, his allowance hadn’t been too much to begin with.

  So he wasn’t surprised to find that Ashfall & Sons was a part of the Sky Exchange, though maybe he would be a little if they’d lasted for more than a decade. As he made his way to the store in question, Lucan could sense the gazes of a good third of the Sky Exchange’s customers fall upon him. A teenager stepping out of House Velmoria’s carriage with a Caravine Guard—- there could only be one granted such an honor. Given the augmented senses of the Aura Expert to his side, none would dare to gossip publicly about him while Lucan was still around, but he knew what they were thinking anyway. The Duchess would not have him leave the manor in nothing less than the finest of clothing, to protect the honor of House Velmoria but the same courtesy to Lucan’s honor.

  Lucan Velmoria was a lout. A drunkard who occasionally gave himself to fits of rage, his capricious personality instilled fear in the servants of House Velmoria and it was said that he screamed at servants for trivial mistakes, hurling bottles at walls in drunken stupors. How he'd once struck a stablehand for looking at him wrong, only to collapse weeping moments later. How he’d made a mockery of the endless resources of House Velmoria, being born to the noblest of families only to possess a useless Mana Type Affinity. How he’d inherited the heir apparent position only due to the gravest of misfortunes striking his elder brothers. How his own mother had collapsed to a heart attack, her heart too burdened by Lucan’s dishonorable actions.

  Lucan Velmoria, The Cursed Bastard. Rumors would never be allowed to escape the Velmoria Estate without a few heads rolling for it under normal circumstances, but it was a different matter if the Duchess herself was fanning the flames.

  If it wasn’t for Mira, he would never have even known the truth until he stepped into the academy. As for trying and countering the rumors, for now— he was completely outmatched.

  “They stare,” Janis whispered, his expression as his gaze swept across the Sky Exchange, diverting more than a few gazes.

  Normally, Lucan would have responded with an annoyed grunt or just ignored the comment. For what it was worth, the Caravine Family had never treated him with disdain or judged his actions while he was watching, which was more than most offered him. They had always been professional when it came to guarding him, which he’d come to appreciate.

  But there was no reason for Janis to tell him that people were staring at him, because they always did and if any of them were a threat, the Caravines that had overheard our conversation and went ahead to disguise themselves among the milling crowd would resolve it while Janis would pick him up and flee.

  He’s testing me, Lucan thought. I can’t believe that I never realized this before. It’s definitely because of that old codger’s memories, he was suspicious of even his own damn shadow. Some of it might be on the Duke’s orders, but the Caravine Family has their own ambitions. They definitely know the truth of what’s been happening in the estate, who I really am for better or worse. No puppet can rule the North, so they want to see if there is anything about me that is worth supporting.

  “Good,” Lucan replied calmly, though in truth it was a struggle to avoid the annoyance from leaking into his tone. “They should,” He added imperiously.

  Janis’ expression remained a mask of calm, his visage not betraying anything as Lucan snuck a glance at him. He didn’t comment, so Lucan decided to leave the conversation at that.

  Compared to the ostentatious displays of the dungeon artificers and jewellers that flanked it, Ashfall & Sons made for a remarkably plain storefront. Brick and mortar construction met a simple signboard that spelled out “Ashfall & Sons” in regular alphabet. Clear glass windows offered a clear view to the walls, which were racked with custom-built racks made out of ordinary darkwood, each section labelled with metal plates— Cavalry Longblades— Nightsilver, Longdaggers (Set of Two) —- Bronzium, Nightsilver Tipped. Warspear— Bronzium, Nightsilver Tipped, among others. The floor of the workshop was dominated by glass display cases for sets of armor, most clearly too heavy or too unwieldy for a mage like Lucan to ever consider purchasing.

  From the smoke rising from the chimney over the third floor, Lucan guessed that the true forge was reserved for the highest floor, while the first floor served as the display for their creations.

  Lucan was the first to step in, quickly followed by Janis.

  The interior of the shop smelled of smoke, metal polish and the strong musk of quenching oil that was difficult to get rid of as their entrance was accompanied by the chime of a bell. Suddenly glad that the forge wasn’t placed on the first floor, Lucan scanned through the sections until his gaze fell upon the section of the wall that he was seeking.

  The shopkeeper, a young man in his early twenties with light olive hair and brown eyes, was clearly in shape and well-built, but Lucan’s Mana Sight did not detect a Mana Core two finger-widths below the navel and his build did not carry the intensity of an Aura Expert, not even a Gathering Stage Aura Expert’s, stepped out from behind his counter to move towards the customers.

  His brown eyes moved from Janis to Lucan, before zeroing in on his silver clasp that bore the crest of House Velmoria and his surprise turned to shock. No branch family members of House Velmoria lived in Lingdon, which meant that there could only be one person at Lucan’s young age that would dare to wear the crest of Velmoria in the center of their territory.

  The olive-haired man bowed as low as he physically could to him, stopping mid-stride to do so, before addressing him, “Young Lord. How can this humble establishment aid you?”

  “Rise,” Lucan casually replied.

  The olive-haired man complied.

  “What’s your name?” Lucan asked.

  “Garrett Ashfall, young lord.”

  “No need for formalities. I’m just here as a customer, so treat me as any other,” Lucan replied.

  “Very well,” Garrett replied, not entirely unfamiliar to such requests. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “I’m looking for a longblade.”

  “A longblade. For the Caravine Family’s distinguished heir? I’m afraid the standards of our forge are not quite up to the mark of the Caravine Family’s blacksmithing techniques,” Garrett replied honestly and without hesitation.

  “Not for Janis,” Lucan clarified. “For me.’’