Chapter 514: Return to the Imperial Capital

The early morning sun rose over the vast plains of Aldernan, its warmth stirring the air. The thick fog typical of this season swirled in mesmerizing patterns before gradually thinning out. Through the parting mist, three black carriages, each drawn by pairs of mechanical slave horses, rolled steadily along the newly paved road, heading east toward the imperial capital.

All three carriages shared a common design popular in Typhon: a spacious, elongated cabin pulled by two horses side by side. This classic style was favored by wealthier travelers for its capacity and comfort. Painted on the sides of the carriages were blue eyes encircled by arcane runes—a clear sign to passersby that these vehicles belonged to a powerful archmage.

The black carriages cut through the chill of early winter, their undersides glowing faintly with a pale blue light that spread over the entire cabin, forming a thin magical shield. This barrier kept the biting cold at bay, maintaining a warm, cozy interior.

Mary carefully slid open a narrow gap in the carriage’s side panel and gazed out. The landscape was bleak and barren, the road flanked by empty fields fading into the hazy winter fog. She watched for a long time but saw few signs of life—only the occasional official-marked freight wagon rushing past. Even in Typhon, few common folk could afford to travel freely in this cold season. On this wide road, it seemed only their three carriages moved.

A flicker of unease stirred in the young apprentice’s heart, mingled with a quiet hope.

She had finally left behind the dark, gloomy, and terrifying mage tower—and the countryside she’d known. Now she was bound for the legendary imperial capital, eager to see a whole new world.

Though she hadn’t escaped her master’s shadow, an inexplicable excitement accompanied her. She didn’t know exactly what she was hoping for, but she felt as if her life was about to change.

“There’s nothing to see on the road this time of year,” a hoarse, grim voice suddenly came from behind her, making Mary jump. She shivered slightly, quickly closing the window and returning to her seat.

Master Daniel sat in the center of the carriage, draped in his heavy black robe, motionless like a lifeless statue. Two other apprentices sat cautiously in the corners, heads bowed over their algebra texts.

Mary stole a quick glance at her master. There was no anger on his face, so she relaxed a little.

The change she’d sensed recently wasn’t an illusion—her master’s temper had genuinely softened.

Though still gloomy, stern, and prone to studying unsettling forbidden knowledge, the old archmage hadn’t fallen into madness for a long time, nor had he punished apprentices arbitrarily.

This improvement didn’t mean Mary or the others could fully relax or get close to him, but at least now she dared to ask questions: “Master, how long will we stay in the capital?”

Daniel’s mood seemed better than usual. He glanced at her and said casually, “Don’t waste your thoughts on useless things—just follow me obediently.”

Mary lowered her head quickly. “Y-yes.”

“Stop being so timid,” he said, looking at her. “It’s fine with me, but don’t keep trembling like that around others. Hold your head high—you’re a mage, your master is an archmage, and you have status in the capital.”

Mary paused, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Also, pay attention,” Daniel raised his voice slightly, addressing the other two apprentices, “Don’t act like country bumpkins—but don’t be reckless either. You must carry the pride of the gifted, but also restraint. Don’t cause trouble, and don’t let anyone bully you.”

The apprentices blinked, then nodded quickly.

Mary was surprised—her master was actually giving them advice on how to behave in the capital.

After a few more words, Daniel fell silent. He pulled a small copper mirror from his robe and stared at it quietly.

The mirror was clearly magical, etched with intricate, arcane symbols and patterns—even the smooth reflective surface was covered. Mary only dared a quick glance before turning away.

The mirror had been made before their departure, but none of the apprentices knew its purpose. Daniel forbade anyone from touching it or even looking at it closely. Mary only knew that he took it out several times a day—and each time, his mood seemed to improve, his temper soften.

Whatever its function, it was clearly a good thing.

Daniel paid no mind to the swirling thoughts in his apprentice’s head. He focused intently on the mysterious symbols, immersing himself in the gentle sound of ocean waves and a soothing mental calm. This ritual eased his tense spirit—the magical effects granted by his master’s gift were remarkable, and even transferred from a room’s wall to a small copper mirror without losing potency.

Relaxed, he let his mind drift, sensing the world outside.

The fog had thinned considerably but still clung to the land—a hallmark of central Typhon’s winters, even under bright sunlight. This persistent mist was the origin of the name “Fog Moon.” Beyond the haze, the towering walls of Aldernan, the imperial capital, loomed near.

How long had he been away from this city?

Ten years? Twenty?

Daniel couldn’t quite recall, but he knew it had been a long time. Over those years, he had fallen from a rising star in the Royal Mage Association to a self-exiled, reclusive, brooding black mage in the countryside. He wasn’t sure how many in the capital still remembered him, but those who had once ostracized, mocked, or even sabotaged him surely hadn’t forgotten.

The archmage Daniel—obsessed with neuro-interactive magic theory but half a lifetime without achievement—had returned, carrying the will of his master.

Through the fog-shrouded streets of Aldernan, the three black carriages rolled over the damp, smooth cobblestones, heading toward the Royal Mage Association.

At the sun’s zenith, Daniel and Mary arrived at the grand headquarters.

The other apprentices had been sent ahead to settle their lodgings and clean their quarters. To Daniel, those who had spent half a year struggling with the master’s great knowledge without progress were all mediocre—bringing them out would only embarrass him. Only Mary, with her modest talent in mathematics, was worth showing the world.

The Royal Mage Association’s solemn black walls and towering spires rose through the mist. The straight, dignified lines of the facade gave the impression of a stern, old-fashioned archmage—a “stone mage” standing at the end of Aldernan’s street, his pointed rooftops like a wizard’s hat. Daniel glanced up at the roof, then pushed aside the meaningless memories crowding his mind.

Mary moved to knock, but Daniel stopped her. The young country-born mage watched in surprise as the dark wooden door shimmered with a faint glow. From the light emerged an ancient face.

“Visitor, state your identity.”

“Daniel. Daniel Fried,” the old mage said smoothly. “The last clever one left in this moldy old house.”

“Ah, familiar words, ha ha,” the gate’s magical guardian rasped a laugh. “Arrogant youth, middle-aged man, old man… self-exiled sorcerer. What brings you back?”

Daniel’s tone was cold and steady. “Windsor Mapel knows. Ask her.”

The door fell silent. After a moment, the old face stirred again.

“President Windsor Mapel invites you to the East Tower—but the girl with you cannot enter.”

“Mary is my apprentice. She can enter. Tell Windsor Mapel I’m as impatient as ever.”

This time the door was silent longer. Mary began to feel uneasy before the magical portal finally responded:

“You may enter.”

The heavy door slowly swung open. Mary, filled with curiosity and a touch of nervousness, followed her master’s lead.

Behind them, the grand doors of the Royal Mage Association closed.

Following his memory, Daniel navigated the vast, intricate building. The corridors and rooms were just as he remembered: deep red carpets, walls inset with magical crystal lamps, elaborately carved pillars, and ornate ceiling reliefs. These lavish but meaningless decorations spoke to the association’s heritage and the stagnant tastes of its gifted members. Yet, the faces passing through these unchanged halls were very different from those of old.

Many were strangers, dressed in luxurious robes, pointed hats, and adorned with precious rings and crowns. They walked the brightly lit classical corridors with heads held high, exuding an air of aloof dignity. Though reserved, they couldn’t help but steal glances at the black-robed Daniel and his unassuming apprentice striding boldly through.

Mary and Daniel’s humble appearance was rare in this grand setting—but even rarer was Daniel’s unabashed, confident demeanor. His robe, unchanged for years, concealed the eerie, writhing artificial neural cords that emitted unsettling friction sounds. This strange and fearsome creation drew everyone’s attention. Yet Daniel strode on as if walking through his own garden.

Mary had never seen her master like this before.

The surrounding mages cast curious, attentive, skeptical, and scrutinizing glances her way. These looks made the young sorceress uneasy and nervous. She knew exactly who these people were—mages of extraordinary talent and high standing within their community, revered figures who embodied the pinnacle of Typhon’s magical power. And here she was, just a low-ranking mage from some rural backwater. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t even have the right to walk alongside such distinguished individuals…

“Keep your head up,” her mentor’s voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, snapping Mary back to attention. “If I catch you walking with your head down again, I’ll turn your neck to stone—so you’ll never be able to lower it again.”

Mary swallowed hard and forced herself to lift her chin. Ahead, the long corridor finally came to an end.

There stood a wooden door adorned with golden-red patterns, its surface shimmering with glowing runes.

Daniel stopped in front of the door, and Mary followed suit. The runes on the door flared to life, and a small crystal floated out from a hidden slot, circling the two of them once before the door swung open on its own.

Beyond the door was a spacious, brightly lit room—completely unlike the cramped, gloomy, and oppressive mage laboratories Mary had imagined. Illuminated by magical crystal lamps, the room was lined with bookshelves and large floor-to-ceiling windows. At its center stood a semicircular desk facing the door, behind which a middle-aged woman in a blue, skirted mage’s robe stood, seemingly having waited there in that very pose for quite some time.

(End of chapter)