After another full morning of non-stop travel, under the brilliance of Mira and Chicasa, the silhouette of Dolez City finally emerged on the horizon.
Unlike the solitary, isolated feel of Konora City, Dolez exuded a grand and imposing atmosphere. Towering structures filled the city, their sheer scale reflecting its remarkable prosperity—an achievement impressive even by the productivity standards of this medieval world.
Seated in the slowly moving carriage, Punk surveyed the vast farmland stretching before him. The spice fields, meticulously guarded by well-equipped soldiers, swayed gently in the breeze. Even in this early season, when the spices had yet to mature, the air was already rich with a strong, lingering fragrance.
Inside the carriage, the old butler sat upright with disciplined composure, while Talan, her expression unusually serious, sat across from Punk. She had initially resisted letting her maid leave her side, but as a noble, she understood the importance of this discussion. Especially after hearing that it concerned the future of the Minohorn family—her long-cherished dream of restoring their prestige—Talan quickly composed herself.
Punk observed this change with mild surprise. He cast a deep look at the girl sitting with unexpected poise, a fleeting thought crossing his mind:
"This kid isn't just a pampered little miss."
Since this was a business discussion, it required a certain degree of formality. Setting aside his usual air of disdain, Punk adopted a more neutral tone—granting his future partner the minimal respect she deserved.
"Miss Minohorn, you must already know that I am a mage devoted to the pursuit of arcane knowledge."
His voice was calm and indifferent.
Talan, however, couldn't help but complain internally:
"I'm sitting right here, a beauty of my caliber, and you haven't even spared me a glance! You're not just 'devoted'—you're completely obsessed!"
But she wisely kept such thoughts to herself, maintaining a solemn nod of understanding.
Punk continued, briefly summarizing his situation.
"Magical research requires financial support, and alchemy is an excellent source of income. As an official mage, I possess deep expertise in alchemical potions. However, wasting my time and energy managing mundane business affairs would be inefficient. Therefore, I require a business partner—someone to handle the sale of my potions."
The moment he finished speaking, the old butler's face lit up with excitement. He immediately understood what this meant for them. Before Talan could even respond, the butler hurriedly interjected:
"The Minohorn family has a long history in commerce! We can guarantee absolute loyalty to your directives, Lord Punk. If you are willing to grant us this opportunity, we will not disappoint you!"
But Punk ignored him entirely, shifting his gaze toward Talan, who remained silent. Realizing his mistake, the old butler quickly fell quiet, his expression filled with anxious anticipation as he looked toward his hesitant lady.
At first, Talan was stunned by the sheer weight of the opportunity falling into her lap. Alchemy potions were an invaluable resource, perpetually in high demand. Adventurers would bankrupt themselves for a single bottle, and with a formal mage as the supplier, the quality and quantity of their stock would be unmatched. There wasn't a single official mage in Dolez City at present, meaning no existing alchemists could possibly compete.
She could already envision the Minohorn family rising to prominence, becoming the leading commercial power in Dolez.
However, years of noble upbringing had instilled caution in her. She knew better than to be blinded by profit alone. Her prospective partner was an official mage—an existence she could never hope to control. From his demeanor, it was clear he had little regard for conventional morality. If she accepted, would the Minohorn family become nothing more than a puppet under his absolute control?
Talan's sharp eyes flickered slightly as she tried to discern any hint of intent from Punk's expression. Yet his face, half-shrouded beneath the shadow of his hood, remained cold and unreadable. No matter how long she stared, she could glean nothing.
Punk, of course, noticed her hesitation. He knew she was waging an internal battle between greed and caution. Deciding to tip the scales in his favor, he casually picked up his teacup and took a slow sip. Then, in an offhand manner, he made his offer:
"Regarding profit distribution… you take 30%, I take 70%."
A simple statement. One that meant little to Punk.
But to Talan and the old butler, it was nothing short of a thunderclap.
This was an incredibly generous deal. If Talan truly wanted to restore the Minohorn family, she could never refuse such an offer.
Sure enough, the moment she heard the terms, her delicate hands clenched tightly into fists. If this was the arrangement… she would have no regrets.
"I will see the revival of the Minohorn family within my lifetime!"
She remembered her grandfather's sorrow in his final years, lamenting the family's decline. She remembered her father, bedridden and frail, constantly reminding her of her duty to restore their honor.
With those memories burning in her heart, Talan stood up and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your generosity. The Minohorn family will always be your most loyal partner!"
The old butler, his hands trembling with excitement, also rose and spoke with a quivering voice:
"May we… have the honor of using your name, my lord?"
Punk raised an eyebrow slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto the old butler's weathered face. A hint of amusement flickered in his mind. This old man certainly had guts, already attempting to leverage Punk's name as a protective shield.
After all, if they began selling large quantities of high-quality alchemical potions without any backing, they would inevitably attract the greedy eyes of nobles and competitors. It wouldn't take long before they were swallowed whole. If that happened, Punk would have to find a new intermediary—an unnecessary hassle.
Allowing them to use his name would solve that problem. No one in Dolez would dare provoke an official mage. It would spare him the headache of intervening in every petty dispute.
However…
Noble families, no matter how fallen, often possessed hidden legacies of value. Even the impoverished Kane family still retained a martial arts heritage.
A faint blue magical light flickered within Punk's eyes as a thought quietly formed in his mind.
If I don't squeeze the last bit of value from the Minohorn family… would I truly be a mage who prioritizes his own interests?