Killian knocked on the door and walked in when he heard a shout. He stopped as the scent of piped tobacco hit his nostrils.

“Killian! Good to see you,” Francis’s raspy voice boomed. He gestured towards a seat across from him, the worn wood groaning under Killian’s weight as he settled in.

“Heard there’s news from Malden?” Killian asked, his voice direct, cutting straight to the chase.

Francis straightened, a hint of pride flickering in his cloudy blue eyes.

He reached into the desk’s drawer and retrieved a sealed scroll, the red wax insignia bearing a sigil, often used by merchants.

“Just received this in the morning’,” he announced, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Seems Malden took quite the shine to our little Heat stones.”

He broke the seal with a practised flick of his wrist, carefully unfolding the parchment. His eyes scanned the contents, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“I was waiting for you or Lord Arzan to walk in before opening it— here, have this tea.” Francis pushed the mug in front of him forward so Killian could reach it. “… Anyway, this says that he sold over half of them already.” His voice was thick with satisfaction. “And at a price even higher than we anticipated. Nobles are opening their chest for it and even commoners are trying to get it in their hands as soon as possible, so they don’t mind paying more.”

Killian’s posture relaxed slightly. He expected good news, but it was even better than what he had assumed. Heat stones seemed to be an even bigger hit outside Veralt.

“That’s good news, Francis,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Enough to settle our accounts?”

Francis chuckled again. He tapped the letter against the desk.

“Enough, and then some, Killian. By the time he returns, we’ll be out from under the debt and with a tidy sum left over.”

Relief washed over Killian. He felt his shoulders relax in the moment. Killian could easily say that it was the same for Francis.

Francis continued to read the parchment, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips.

A hearty laugh boomed through Francis’ office as Killian slammed his mug of tea on the desk.

“Here, read the end of this letter. Noblemen requesting special Heat stones, carved all fancy-like for their posh homes? Now that’s something I wouldn’t have believed a month back!”

Francis, his face flushed with a mixture of amusement and pride said aloud.

Killian thought back to weeks back when Tradeheart merchant company had knocked on their doors, behaving badly and demanding they hand over their farmlands. He had seen no option, but for Lord Arzan to beg his brother for the sum.

Now, things have changed dramatically.

That’s something I barely expected.

“Indeed it has. Just a while back, the city felt like a ghost town, everyone holed up, fear gnawing at their insides.” He swirled the amber liquid in his mug.

“But now,” he continued, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur, “there’s something different. The people are talking with so much hope! Even the guards… They were discussing how Lord Arzan defeated the necromancer. His reputation seemed to be increasing with them, especially because of the rewards he bestowed upon the fallen.”

He fixed Francis with a steady gaze.

Francis started to talk, “Things are changing fast and for the good. A part of me believes it’s just the start. After months, Lord Arzan had taken his duties as the lord and he seems to know what he’s doing.”

“He’s indeed very decisive about his decisions. That’s a good sign of a lord.”

It was normal for Killian and Francis to discuss castle matters, and this time— they found a new subject that they couldn’t talk about in private for quite some time since Killian had been away for the expedition and Francis had been busy overlooking the distribution of the Heat stones in the city and the collecting herbs for soup.

Francis puffed out his chest. “Lord Arzan hasn’t always been a man of the people. But now, he sees the potential in things, and takes a chance.” He tapped the letter from Malden significantly. “And look where it’s gotten us. We might just take Veralt to another level, Killian. We might be able to make it a place we can be proud of, but there’s one thing I can’t put my finger on.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“He’s almost… like a different man entirely,” he rumbled, his voice low.

The simple statement hung in the air.

Killian’s brow furrowed, his eyes reflecting the same contemplative glint and he barely managed to stop himself from nodding.

Lord Arzan, the man they both knew, hadn’t always been like this, true. But lately, there was a spark in his eyes. His nature had changed for the better and he seemed to have a plan for everything.

A year back, Killian couldn’t even rely on him to pull himself together. When they were coming to Veralt, he had been whining all the way and looked done with life.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Francis has a point.

“There’s certainly something… different about him,” Killian finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “He unlocked his potential as a Mage suddenly and maybe that’s the reason. But the knowledge he has displayed is something I have never seen before.”

Francis nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Killian. “Yeah,” he rumbled, his voice laced with a hint of unease. “A change like this… it can be a good thing, a leader stepping up in a time of crisis. But sometimes…” he trailed off, his voice fading into a thoughtful murmur.

“Sometimes,” Killian finished for him, his voice grave, “change can be unpredictable. A good fire can bring warmth, but an untamed inferno can consume everything in its path. But… When it comes to Lord Arzan, I can’t pinpoint what has happened. Was he hiding his knowledge all this time?”

Francis shifted forward in his seat. “Do you think he could be…?”

Killian searched in his eyes for what he could be asking. But as soon as he realised what Francis meant, he scoffed. A snort escaped his lips.

“Shapeshifter? Weaver? Don’t be ridiculous, Francis. You know he wouldn’t go sniffing around Clerics if that were the case.”

Francis grunted. “Yeah. But the change, Killian… it’s undeniable.” He paused as his eyes went to his fidgeting fingers. “Lord Arzan never cared for the common folk before. Now, he’s all about hope, about rebuilding the city and the guards.”

“True enough. Though, becoming a Mage can do that to a person. Gives you a new perspective, seeing the world from a different vantage point.”

His words hung in the air, laced with a hollow echo of uncertainty.

They both knew it was a flimsy explanation, a mere attempt to rationalise the unexplainable shift in Lord Arzan’s behaviour.

“Maybe it’s just… a coming-of-age sort of thing,” Killian continued, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. Lord Arzan was young, yes, but having such a drastic personality shift to maturity felt like grasping at straws.

Francis looked at Killian curiously. “How was he before when you were a retainer at the Duke’s?”

“Well, the man practically was like a blood drinker, hating the sun. He stayed in the room, quietly. And to add on top of that, his brothers had quite a complicated relationship with him. The peak was during the succession. Things were bad then. Lord Arzan’s current personality… This is very different. Now that you asked about it, I doubt the coming-of-age thing matters.”

Killian fell into a quiet thinking.

“There was a coldness to him then,” he repeated once again, his voice low. “A distance, like he built walls around himself to keep everyone out.”

Francis nodded slowly.

The image of the young Arzan, aloof and unapproachable, Killian remembered him clearly. He used to accompany Lord Arzan in a few of his outings and he was a quiet child who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with nobles.

“I don’t understand-“

Before Francis could finish what he started to say, a sharp rap on the door startled them both. Killian rose and crossed the room, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his dagger hidden beneath his doublet.

The door creaked open, revealing Lord Arzan on the threshold. A stack of leather-bound papers rested in his arms.

“What are you two talking about?” He asked.

Francis cleared his throat. “Lord Arzan,” he greeted with a bow. “Just discussing… matters related to Malden and the Heat stones. They seem to be a hit with the nobles.”

Killian, his brow furrowed, remained silent. Lord Arzan offered a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

“Good to hear,” he replied, his voice devoid of its usual vibrancy. He strode into the room, his steps echoing in the sudden hush.

Setting the stack of papers with a decisive thud, his gaze locked onto the both of them as his eyes glinted.

“I’m glad I could find you both here. I have something that requires your immediate attention.”

Killian and Francis exchanged a glance, a silent question hanging between them. The way Lord Arzan’s eyes glinted made Killian more curious.

“What is it, Lord Arzan?” Francis finally asked, his voice laced with a hint of trepidation.

Lord Arzan met their gaze, his expression turning serious. “It concerns Killian,” he declared, his voice firm.

Killian’s heart lurched. What could Lord Arzan possibly have to say about me?

Before Killian could voice his unease, Lord Arzan continued. “Specifically, his role as an Enforcer.”

Killian exchanged a glance with Francis, wondering if he heard him. The administrator looked as confused as him.

“Enforcer?” he echoed, tilting his head in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Killian,” Lord Arzan began, his voice low and measured. “Do you know why only a select few individuals possess the ability to harness ambient mana and wield spells?”

“The three organs, my Lord,” he explained, his voice steady despite the confusion that ran through him. “Heart, veins, and brain. Without all three functioning in perfect harmony, the ability to manipulate mana and cast spells is rendered impossible.”

Francis gave a nod next to him.

Without the three organs, a human could never even think of manipulating mana. Although all of them could store mana, only the ones having the three organs could wield it as a weapon.

Killian had learned it very early on since he had been tested as a Mage as a child. The results were unsatisfactory and thinking back to it, his brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” Lord Arzan said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “But what if the traditional understanding is… incomplete?”

A beat of silence followed.

“What… What does that mean?” Killian immediately questioned.

Lord Arzan’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of something strange that he couldn’t pinpoint. “What if I told you that with two organs, specifically the heart and the mind, one can achieve a different kind of power?”

Killian and Francis once again locked eyes with each other.

“That’s useless, Lord Arzan. All three matters, and that has been the norm for ages,” Killian said and Francis nodded again in agreement.

He straightened, his gaze locking onto Killian with a decisive glint.

“I know that’s what you have been taught, but it’s not the case. A Mage needs three organs, but an Enforcer doesn’t.”

“How does that even work?” Francis asked, looking like he was deliberating whether it was a prank.

“I will show it to you two,” Lord Arzan said. “Just understand, with the heart and mind— just with those two, one can leap beyond the constraints of mortals. An Enforcer can go beyond the natural strength a mortal can achieve and enforce his body with mana. Hence, the name.”

Killian’s frown deepened. He immediately felt his throat go dry.

That can’t be true, can it?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep