Chapter 110: When the Storm Rises

After Jenny finished speaking, a long silence fell over the room. Neither High Lord nor Hetty broke it.

But Hetty could feel a powerful aura radiating from the ancestor. It was as if an icy cavern had formed around him—just sitting nearby, she felt her own magical energy slowly freezing solid. That unbearable chill lingered until High Lord finally spoke.

His voice was unexpectedly calm. “What’s the name of your mentor?”

“…William. William Bocken,” Jenny murmured. “He’s not a court mage, but he holds a high position in Saint Suniel City. He’s an honorary advisor to the Royal Mage Society, and… very powerful.”

High Lord nodded quietly. “William Bocken, honorary advisor to the Royal Mage Society. Understood.”

The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on Hetty. She had to say something to stir the frozen air. “And after that? Did you keep studying the notes?”

“I pretended to give up on the theories in the notes, but I kept researching in secret,” Jenny whispered. “My mentor was a little curious about the notes at first, but he looked down on reading them carefully. He just waited to see what we could come up with. The death of Mr. Ravenkaise seemed to confirm to him that the research in the notes was absurd and wrong, so he completely shifted his focus away from it. I had to pretend I’d given up on those theories too.”

“So he would never know about the constant E,” High Lord said with scorn. “He dismissed every argument in the notes without a second glance, relying only on his own impressions—stupid impressions. He didn’t know what he was looking down on, didn’t realize what he was missing. He didn’t even know he was missing anything at all. I’ve never heard of such a foolish, ignorant man.”

Jenny’s eyes widened slightly. It was the first time she’d heard anyone call her mentor “foolish and ignorant”—a man renowned in the Royal Mage Society, even holding an honorary seat in the Arcane Council…

But she didn’t dare agree with High Lord. She lowered her head and continued quietly, “Then I slowly became a skilled runesmith. My mentor was once curious how I could perform rune adjustments with apprentice-level magic skills, but he had many other things to focus on. There were countless servant apprentices like me in his mage tower, and soon he stopped paying attention to me—until recently, when news came that the king was forming a Southern Frontier expedition. Powerful nobles began assembling the team, and my mentor suddenly came to find me…”

Hetty snorted softly. “So it was that William Bocken, the great mage, who dressed up an apprentice-level runesmith as a mid-level professional and slipped her into the support team.”

“Maybe he just wanted to get rid of a burden,” Jenny said with a bitter smile. “After all, in his eyes, I was always disobedient and untalented. And letting an apprentice count as a runesmith was already a serious deception and insult. So he probably had the backing and orders of some big shots in the capital. Duke, I want to remind you—I’m not an exception. Half of the hundred people in that team were just stuffed in like that. They were mostly outcasts, rebels, or people without status—burdens kicked aside. Or those with professional ranks but no real use. Like Mr. Santis, a level-two official mage, but born with weak mental power—he could only cast three or four level-two spells in a row. Or Mr. Bruce, the carpenter, who spent half his life studying mechanisms but was ostracized by the carpenters’ guild for poor social skills. He was expelled years ago and only brought back temporarily for this support team, reinstated as a member just to fill the ranks…”

Hetty listened, stunned. “Did the nobles in the capital really have to go that far…?”

High Lord couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m actually grateful to them—all the families involved, and your mentor too, Jenny. Those fools will never know how much wealth they missed out on. Rebels? Fine. This land fears nothing more than blind tradition. If those stuck-up, networked old-timers had come instead, I wouldn’t want them at all!”

Hetty looked at High Lord with concern. “Ancestor, you don’t have to comfort yourself like that…”

High Lord: “…Are you starting to sound a bit like Rebecca?”

“Ah?”

“I mean stubborn… never mind, you wouldn’t understand.” He waved his hand and turned to Jenny. “Let the past be past. Miss Jenny Perrot, you’re home now. Throw away all your fears and worries. You can continue your research openly and freely. I not only permit it—I will support you. From now on, every month you can get rune research materials from Hetty. I have only one request—”

Jenny hadn’t expected High Lord to be so frank, even enthusiastic in his support. Still stunned, she instinctively asked, “What request?”

“Organize your research. Summarize it into formulas and theorems as simple and clear as possible.” High Lord glanced at the notebook on the table. “From your notes, I see you’re a practical researcher, good at building equations from experience. There’s someone in my domain who complements you perfectly—my descendant, Rebecca Cecil. She’s sharp and skilled in math and logic. I’ll have you two work together. I hope what you produce can become a…”

He paused, carefully choosing his words. After a few seconds, under the curious gazes of Hetty and Jenny, he found the right phrase: “A textbook. I want you to organize everything into a textbook that as many people as possible can understand. Of course, that’s the ultimate goal, a wish of mine. It won’t be easy, so take your time. If you need anything, just tell me.”

“Is… this really that important?” Jenny finally realized High Lord wasn’t deceiving her. Amid her overwhelming surprise, she felt confused and incredulous. “Do you want to train a large number of runesmiths like me?”

High Lord smiled faintly. “Train runesmiths? No. I want the contents of this notebook to become common knowledge for every spellcaster in my domain—indeed, for everyone.”

He stood and solemnly pushed the heavy tome back to Jenny. “Keep it safe and protected. And if you have the time and chance, make a copy. Knowledge is more precious than the book itself. The original writing is already starting to fade.”

Jenny nodded anxiously. “Y-yes, I will remember your command.”

“I’ll leave now. Rest well. Later, I’ll introduce you to Rebecca.”

High Lord and Hetty left the cabin, leaving Jenny alone, staring blankly at the thick, weighty book in her hands.

The burn scar on the left side of her face began to ache faintly—the scar left when she first stepped into her mentor’s lab, standing on the magic circle as experimental material. It had accompanied her for five years. It hadn’t hurt for a long time, but now, for some reason, the pain returned.

Then she understood: those wounds had always hurt. She had just grown used to the pain, taking it for granted.

Until today, standing before an ancient hero resurrected from seven centuries past, she seemed to lose control, pouring out years of bottled-up feelings, casting aside the numbness and pretense she’d used to dull the pain. Only then did she feel she’d regained a bit of… living sensation.

So living people do feel pain.

Clutching the notebook that carried the legacy of three generations and her own years of effort, she suddenly broke down in tears.

After leaving Jenny’s cabin, High Lord’s expression darkened again. Hetty once more felt as if her magical energy was freezing solid. She cautiously looked at her ancestor’s face. “Are you… angry?”

High Lord cursed loudly, “Foolish beyond belief! Ignorant! Stupid! A complete, unadulterated imbecile!”

“You mean… Jenny’s mentor?”

“That so-called ‘mentor’?” High Lord snorted with disdain. “I’m ashamed to be of the same species as him.”

“I agree… that William Bocken is truly foolish,” Hetty shook her head. “I know traditional mages are stubborn, but I never imagined anyone could be so blindly obstinate. Jenny and Ravenkaise had already made significant progress, yet William Bocken completely ignored it. He never seriously looked at that notebook—not once. Was he blind?”

High Lord snorted. “Blind? Of course not. He just perfectly followed the code of his class. Tell me, why do you think William Bocken ignored Jenny and Ravenkaise’s achievements, ignored the existence of those formulas?”

Hetty guessed, “Because Jenny and Ravenkaise were low-level? So their research wasn’t credible?”

“That’s only a secondary reason. The real reason is that Jenny and Ravenkaise were servant apprentices—slaves,” High Lord said, seeing through it all. “That alone was enough for that mage to see them as a different ‘species.’ Did he ‘deliberately’ ignore their results? No, not at all. He never even noticed they had any results. He didn’t look, didn’t think. The only thing he noticed was ‘his slaves disobeying orders.’”

Hetty was silent.

After a moment, she asked, “Can we send a protest to the king? With your ducal title, the king can’t ignore it. That great mage might at least…”

“No, I don’t like protests. They’re useless.” High Lord waved his hand forcefully. “This ragtag hundred are already on my land. Do you think the king will fear my protest? The powerful nobles in the capital meddled, yes, but since the team was allowed to depart, it means Francis II at least tacitly approved. So why did he approve?”

Hetty quickly caught on. “Because he fulfilled ‘courtesy’ and ‘protocol.’ As king, he has no other fault.”

“Exactly. Nobles’ courtesy and protocol—that’s all anyone in this era respects.”

“So what about this matter…?”

“No rush, Hetty, no rush.” High Lord exhaled deeply and slowly smiled. “Courtesy and protocol won’t protect them forever.”

(End of chapter)