Chapter 470: Mary and Daniel

The bulletin board was crowded with notices, though not all of them were new. Some old papers were partially covered by fresh postings, while others had faded from sun and wind, their contents blurred and hard to decipher.

The literacy campaign and town bulletin system instituted by Emperor Rosetta were undoubtedly beneficial, but they came with their own set of problems. Since this was the sole channel for announcements, everything—from imperial edicts to mundane town chores—was plastered here without regard for timeliness. It wasn’t uncommon to see an imperial decree followed immediately by a notice about dredging the town’s canals, or a grain purchase announcement stuck alongside a seed distribution notice from months ago. Sorting through it all was no easy task.

In fact, extracting useful information from this chaotic jumble was something of an art. And as Mary knew, the literacy campaign hadn’t been as effective as hoped. Most common folk lacked the time or energy to read, and even those who attended lessons—often taught by indifferent teachers who only showed up for a few copper coins a day—learned very little. As a result, few in the town could actually read the notices.

The confusion on the bulletin board, combined with the still-low literacy rate, had even given rise to a profession: the “reader.”

If someone wanted to find useful information—say, a farmer seeking the latest purchase price and schedule for a certain crop—they’d have to pay a soldier a copper coin. The soldier would then sift through the notices and read the relevant parts aloud.

Of course, once some information was out, it lost value. More literate farmers often found the news themselves and shared it. So soldiers treated this “reading fee” as a side hustle. They’d even deliberately dirty or wet the most frequently asked-about notices—like prices or job postings—forcing curious townsfolk to pay up.

But none of this concerned Mary. As a mage, she could easily read and understand everything on the board, and she wasn’t particularly worried about the timeliness of the information. To her, all of it was fascinating.

The village at the foot of the mountain didn’t have anything like a bulletin board.

“Recruiting mages, huh…” The young apprentice scanned all the posted announcements with interest, her gaze lingering on the mage recruitment notice. It seemed to be a call for personnel for some research project—an unusual kind of message.

A mage recruitment notice posted right here in town… Emperor Rosetta appeared to be selecting talent from across the empire’s mages. And his recruitment reach was vast. In a rural town like this, the only mages who might see the notice would be low-level wandering mages, maybe second or third rank at best.

But then Mary thought of her mentor—the formidable old wizard who was an exception. Living in this remote backwater, his power was unfathomable. Rumor had it he once lived in the capital. She wondered if he’d be interested in the emperor’s recruitment.

With these thoughts swirling in her mind, the young apprentice left the bulletin board and wandered through the bustling town square.

The bard’s songs stirred her soul.

The circus clown’s antics left a strong impression.

Even the clumsy artisans, crafting small straw and wood trinkets on the spot, captivated Mary’s attention.

By the time she finally snapped out of her reverie, the golden-red glow of sunset was casting its light on the rooftops at the edge of the square.

Watching the warm sunset and the townsfolk and performers slowly dispersing, the poor young girl suddenly panicked: she had completely forgotten her mentor’s instructions!

Mary sprinted toward the shops lining the square. Her only consolation was that she still clutched the package in her arms. If she had gotten too caught up in the entertainment and lost the magical ingredients her mentor had specifically told her to buy… well, the old wizard would surely tear out one of her tendons and feed it to the bloodthirsty beasts in the mage tower!

Fortunately, luck was on her side. She managed to buy the last batch of spell components before the shop closed. By the time she stepped back outside, night had almost fully fallen.

She tightened her worn black robe against the chill. Traveling after dark wasn’t wise, especially since the mountain path between the town and her mentor’s tower took two hours to traverse. Even as a formally ranked mage, the dark mountain trail was fraught with danger.

But the old wizard’s wrath was far worse than slippery slopes or lurking monsters.

Regretting her laxity that day, Mary double-checked the package once more before setting off from the town.

Her mind still replayed the messages from the bulletin board, but once she stepped onto the mountain path, she pushed all distractions aside.

She summoned a glowing orb of light for illumination, prepared protective spells, and gripped a short sword in her free hand. The cold wind howled through the mountain passes, but Mary dared not waste mana maintaining a wind barrier. In the wild, conserving magic was common sense; unless conditions threatened one’s mental clarity, comfort was a luxury mages couldn’t afford.

Finally, before midnight, the dark, ominous spire of the mage tower appeared in her sight.

Cold and hungry, Mary was relieved to arrive before the iron collar around her neck could heat up like a branding iron.

The tower’s heavy door opened automatically. The silent gatekeeper let her in, and with a dull thud, the door shut behind her, sealing out the mountain wind and starlight.

Inside, the tower was still and oppressive, like a cage suffocating its prisoner. Mary exhaled deeply as she tiptoed toward the stairs leading upward, intending to stash the ingredients in the storage room and hide in her quarters before her mentor noticed.

But after only a few steps, her body froze.

There, on the stairs, stood the grim, solitary old wizard—like a statue blending into the shadows. The faint rustle of artificial nerve cords woven into his robes and scraping the floor sounded like countless snakes slithering, sending chills down her spine.

Mary suddenly forgot how to speak. She stammered, “Mentor… I…”

Before she could finish, a bright bolt of lightning struck her shoulder. Pain seared through her, accompanied by the old wizard’s dark voice: “Why so late?”

The lightning burned through her thin, barely protective robe, scorching flesh beneath. But Mary, accustomed to such punishments, clenched her trembling body and voice, bowing her head. “I was delayed in town…”

She didn’t try to excuse herself with “the mountain path was difficult” or the like. She knew better. Her mentor’s expertise in neurology and brainwave manipulation was profound. Those writhing nerve cords weren’t just for connecting to some mysterious mental network—they could detect lies. The last apprentice who lied nearly died on the lab table. Mary wasn’t about to risk her life testing her mentor’s mood.

Daniel, the old wizard, fixed her with a grim gaze. He waved his hand, and the package in Mary’s arms floated before him. After inspecting its contents, he raised his eyelids and said, “Remember, if you delay the experiments I assign, I’ll use you as the test subject!”

Mary lowered her head, feigning obedience. “Y-yes!”

She knew her mentor had a mysterious master, and that this powerful figure had issued a series of commands—researching new neural connection and brainwave amplification technologies among them. That was why Daniel had recently sent his apprentices out to gather materials so often.

Mary dared not ask about the secrets behind the research, nor the name of that enigmatic “master.” She understood well: someone who even her fearsome mentor revered was not someone she could approach lightly. Even a hint of information could cost her life.

Seeing the shrinking apprentice, Daniel frowned, lost in thought. Then he suddenly spoke: “What did you see in town?”

Mary didn’t dare reveal all her wandering details. Instead, she offered what might soothe her mentor’s anger: “I was looking at the town’s bulletin… trying to find useful news…”

Daniel snorted. “And? What useful news did you find?”

“His Majesty the Emperor is expanding schools… recruiting volunteers…” Mary quickly recited what she’d seen, saving the most important for last. “Oh, and he’s recruiting mages. Maybe the Royal Mage Society is expanding its staff. Mentor, you…”

She stopped, unwilling to continue. She saw her mentor’s face darken more than ever before, a look brimming with unmasked hatred. Yet after a pause, he said, “Continue—why is the emperor recruiting mages?”

“Maybe… for a research project…” Mary stammered. “The notice didn’t specify, but the requirements… require knowledge of mathematics and magic circles, and especially an understanding of self-recharging… self-recharging magic circles…”

Daniel’s grim expression shifted suddenly.

He furrowed his brow, lost in deep thought. As Mary waited nervously, he muttered to himself, “…Could the empire be researching… the master might be interested in this news…”

Mary held her breath, uninterested in her mentor’s master. She was hungry, tired, and terrified—only wanting to return to her room as soon as possible.

Finally, Daniel snapped out of his reverie. He glanced at the apprentice waiting below the stairs, his eyes briefly vacant before clearing.

He waved his hand. “Go to your room.”

Mary felt as if she’d been pardoned. She bowed deeply. Just as she turned to leave, she heard her mentor’s voice again from the stairs: “…There’s a plate of muffins on your desk. They’re for you.”

Mary looked up in surprise, wondering if she’d misheard.

But Daniel only waved his hand dismissively. The nerve cords had quieted. His tone was impatient: “Today is your birthday.”

(End of chapter)