Translator: CinderTL
Even before reaching the manor, Darco spotted a slightly gaunt figure standing at the gate.
"Father!"
Recognizing the man's face, Darco cried out in surprise and spurred his horse into a sprint.
He dismounted with a graceful flip, his movements clean and efficient.
But when he saw Baron Forslin's ashen complexion, his throat tightened.
"Father, you... you're awake?"
"Darco!"
Forslin gazed at his son's sun-darkened face, a fleeting warmth flickering in his eyes before vanishing. He lowered his voice and reprimanded, "As the eldest son of the Collins Family, you must not shed tears!"
"Yes, sir!"
Darco straightened his back reflexively, quickly blinked away the moisture in his eyes, and awkwardly scratched his head.
"I was just... too excited, Father."
"I know, Darco."
Seeing his son's averted gaze, Forslin sighed softly and clapped him on the shoulder.
"I've heard about what happened at Far Ocean Port. You handled it well."
He paused.
"It seems that while I was unconscious, you've grown into a reliable man."
This sudden praise left Darco speechless and flustered.
Darco awkwardly glanced around, abruptly changing the subject.
"Father, where's that old... I mean, where's Knight Beckham? Didn't I order him to stay and guard the manor?"
"Watch your tone! Show proper respect to Knight Beckham!"
"Yes, yes."
Seeing his son revert to his usual timid demeanor, Forslin shook his head in exasperation.
"Now that I've regained consciousness, Knight Beckham can return to his post at the Black Cedar Forest," he explained in a low voice. "Even though the demonic beasts have inexplicably retreated into their lairs recently, we must remain vigilant."
As he spoke, Forslin waved Darco behind him, signaling the others to enter the manor first.
Roland nodded in understanding to Darco, dismounted Black Wind, and led the horse slowly through the manor gates.
After returning to his long-abandoned apprentice quarters to quickly pack his belongings and remove his blue-and-white armor, Roland wasted no time heading straight to the blacksmith shop.
Upon meeting Hawk, Roland meticulously explained his plans and intentions.
To his surprise, the usually stern old blacksmith not only refrained from scolding him but instead enthusiastically began lecturing him about the customs, traditions, and social systems of the River Domain Nations.
"Oh, right!"
Hawk suddenly remembered something and turned to retrieve a sheepskin scroll sealed with a hammer-shaped stamp from deep within the counter.
Through the faintly visible script, Roland recognized it as a letter of recommendation for himself.
"This is a recommendation letter for the Blacksmith's Guild," Hawk said, his gaze fixed on the young man before him, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and reluctance.
He clapped Roland heavily on the shoulder, his voice still booming.
"Joining the guild requires recommendations from two members. You'll have to find the other one yourself. After all, besides me, the only other member in the Blackwater Territory is that stubborn old Henry..."
At this point, the old blacksmith abruptly changed his tone, tapping Roland's chest with his rough, calloused fingers.
"Your forging skills are decent now, but they still fall short of the guild's assessment standards."
He added earnestly, "Don't let your skills go to waste when you reach the River Domain Nations, understand?"
"Yes, Master Hawk!" Roland bowed deeply, his heart overflowing with gratitude.
Without this master blacksmith's meticulous guidance and unwavering belief in him, he would never have achieved his current level of skill.
"Enough!" Hawk pulled Roland upright and waved dismissively. "Remember to come back and visit when you get the chance. I want to see how much your skills have improved by then!"
"No problem, Master Hawk!"
After a few more pleasantries, Hawk turned to attend to his work.
The surrounding apprentices overheard snippets of their conversation, mistakenly believing Roland was simply leaving Blackwater Territory for a long journey.
Since Roland often helped them with their tasks, they had forged a close bond.
During their lunch break, the apprentices organized a simple yet heartwarming farewell gathering for Roland in the dining hall.
After bidding farewell to George and the other blacksmith apprentices, Roland went to visit John.
Unlike Master Hawk's earnest advice, the veteran's reaction to Roland's decision to leave Blackwater Territory was blunt.
"You should've left sooner!" John said, chewing on a wheat stalk and waving dismissively. "If I wasn't stuck here, I wouldn't stay in this godforsaken place for a second longer!"
After arranging to drink with the veteran that evening, Roland hurried to the secluded cottage.
Even before entering, he heard the familiar scratching of a quill scribbling furiously across parchment.
The sound brought a knowing smile to Roland's face as he pushed open the door.
The cottage was as chaotic as ever.
Books and tools lay scattered across the floor, leaving barely any room to step.
Bronson looked even more disheveled than usual.
Bronson's patched robe had acquired several new tears, and his hair was as tangled as a bird's nest.
The only consolation was that he hadn't lost any more weight, suggesting he had at least heeded Roland's reminder to eat regularly.
"Roland?"
Bronson looked up at the sound of his name and immediately leaped to his feet, nearly tripping over the clutter on the floor.
"Listen to this! I've made a major discovery!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly.
"I've found that the concentration of Magic Elements with different attributes varies significantly across regions! For example—"
After rattling off his findings in a torrent, the scholar smacked his lips, still buzzing with excitement, and belatedly asked, "Oh, right! How are you finding the white skeletal remains I had Young Master Darco deliver to you?"
"They work remarkably well," Roland replied, displaying the white skeletal remains on his left hand, a faint smile playing on his lips. "And I've already managed to perform a trick successfully."
"Ha! Your talent is truly astonishing!"
After a brief exchange of updates, Roland revealed his plan to travel to the River Domain Nations.
As expected, when Bronson heard about the ample research funding available there, he nodded in agreement without hesitation.
"When do we depart?" Bronson asked impatiently, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Roland smiled helplessly at his eagerness. "I need to visit a friend in Mist Creek Town first. It won't take long." He paused. "Why don't you pack your belongings? We can set off for Far Ocean Port to catch a ship as soon as I return."
"No problem!"
"Oh, right!" Roland suddenly remembered something and pulled an ancient-looking pendant from his pocket. It was an item that had fallen from the Church of Truth leader's clone after Roland had killed it with a Fire Arrow.
"Mr. Bronson, could you take a look at this?"
Bronson accepted the pendant, squinting as he examined it closely. After a moment, he said hesitantly, "This seems similar to the Magical Apparatus described in ancient texts."
"Magical Apparatus?"
"Exactly." Bronson sat down slowly, still studying the pendant as he explained. "Before the Final Epoch, some spellcasters would carve runes for specific spells onto these devices to conserve mental power. To activate them, they only needed to infuse Magic Elements, allowing for rapid spellcasting."
Roland understood immediately.
"Like the spell pattern you've been researching that draws on Magic Elements?"
"Not even close," Bronson said, waving his hand dismissively with a slightly embarrassed smile. "The craftsmanship of Magical Apparatus is incredibly complex and precise. My research is merely a rudimentary application of spell patterns by comparison."
After a moment's contemplation, Bronson's expression turned serious as he cautioned, "Roland, until we understand what spell is inscribed within this Magical Apparatus, I strongly advise against using it rashly. The spells from the Final Epoch were incredibly diverse, and many weren't even documented in any records."
He gently rubbed the pendant. "For safety's sake, would you mind letting me study it for a while?"
"Of course, no problem at all. I'll leave it in your capable hands," Roland agreed readily.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Bronson returned to his research. Seeing this, Roland quietly slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him.
"Hawk, John, Bronson... Oh, and Darco too." Roland suddenly slapped his forehead and chuckled self-deprecatingly.
"I've been inseparable from him lately," Roland thought, "I almost thought I'd already told him about leaving."
With this in mind, he summoned Matthew, the attendant Darco had assigned to him, to inquire about the young noble's whereabouts. Learning that the young noble had been in a private meeting with Baron Forslin in the reception hall since his return, Roland decided to postpone informing him until another day.
As he strolled leisurely through the grounds, Roland unconsciously found himself at the training field.
After asking the veterans present and confirming that no one there was proficient in polearm techniques, Roland glanced at the darkening sky and sauntered toward the dining hall.
Before he even reached the entrance, he heard a burst of rough, angry cursing from within.
"Finally caught you! What kind of little bastard sneaked in here to steal food?!"
Hearing this, Roland frowned in confusion and stepped into the dining hall.
Following the sound, he saw a burly, bearded cook clutching something in his hand while cursing loudly.
It was a small, reddish-brown squirrel struggling desperately in the cook's grip.
(End of the Chapter)
⚡ 𝟏𝟒 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 | 𝟖.𝟓𝐤 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝟏𝟒.𝟑𝐌 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 [𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐥.𝐜𝐨𝐦]