Chương 108: Chapter 067 To Ultimate Power (Part 1)

Jack found himself in the care of Greaves, who introduced him to the other five nobles the Baron was closest to. The Baron gestured with an open palm.

"Allow me to make the proper introductions. This is Baron Trefin, master of coin." A stocky man with a red nose and large jowls stepped forward; his grip was firm as he squeezed Jack's shoulder and looked over him with cold calculation. [Assassin's Intuition] triggered.

"And Baroness Quill, patroness of the Royal Archives." A thin woman in dark silks inclined her head, her long fingers brushing Jack's leather armour as though testing the weave of his soul. Again, [Assassin's Intuition] triggered from the blood mage's touch.

"Baroness Idrisa, whose vineyards are famed across the Kingdom." The woman's lips curved into a smile, though her eyes lingered on Jack's throat with unsettling intensity as she touched the back of his hand as [Assassin's Intuition] triggered.

"Baron Argil, commander of the southern watchtowers." The tall man's hand landed heavily on Jack's shoulder, causing [Assassin's Intuition] to trigger. His touch had a soldier's weight behind it, yet his gaze was distant, as though listening to whispers no one else could hear.

"And lastly, Baroness Vampese, proprietor of the best brothels in the city." The name alone sent a ripple of unease through Jack as he remembered how she'd stabbed Cain, before the huge adventurer had thrown the pair of them into the raging waters. Draped in crimson and jet, her eyes held a predatory gleam. [Assassin's Intuition] triggered as she rested her hand against his arm.

Jack offered each a polite "My lord" and "My lady" in turn, bowing with every greeting while trying not to react to [Assassin's Intuition]. Yet with every touch on his shoulder or arm, he knew their true meaning. They're using [Blood Omen] on me again. The blood mage skill, [Blood Omen], allowed its wielder to sense important future events tied to their target. It wasn't true prophecy, only a glimpse of what threads the Fates had knotted around a life. And right now, all of them were peering into his fate.

The six nobles nodded to one another after determining he was touched by the Fates.

"Tell us more about your late grandfather's notes," Baroness Quill enquired.

"Of course, my lady." Jack offered a small bow.

"When I was twelve, I found a small journal of notes that my late grandfather had hidden inside one of his books." He noted the interest on the nobles' faces.

"The notes detailed how powerful blood mages were and how to become one. My grandfather mentioned that he was aware that some nobles were blood mages and listed several nobles in the notes, my lady." Baron Greaves nodded.

"Your grandfather was a good man; I considered him a friend." He shook his head.

"It was a great loss to the Library when he passed away. There aren't many scribes who follow the difficult path of the wanderer." Jack nodded.

"I only wish I could've met him, my lord." Though the pseudo [Rogue's Tongue] skill was guiding his words, this was true. He caught his emotions in his throat.

"He was a great man. My father told me many stories of his travels as a child. When I was younger, I dreamed of following in his footsteps… Though, as an impressionable child, I imagined myself as a powerful mage and a scribe battling monsters while recovering lost ancient tomes." He forced a smile. The nobles chuckled.

"That would make for a powerful combination, if it wasn't for the time it takes to level the mage classes." Baroness Vampese smiled.

"Though with your mysterious leap to level 50 Apprentice Scribe, you could indeed follow that path."

"Indeed," Greaves added.

"Together we could achieve great things." There was greed in the Baron's eyes. I can work with this. Jack nodded.

"What do you have in mind, my lord?"

"We'll have plenty of time to discuss your future, my boy." Greaves smiled.

"What happened to your grandfather's notes?" Jack frowned.

"After memorising them the best I could, I destroyed them, my lord." He shook his head.

"It was heartbreaking to see them burn… But I couldn't risk them falling into the hands of the Inquisition."

"What a shame." Baroness Idrisa frowned.

"You say you memorised them the best you could. How much of the notes do you believe you can reproduce?" Jack scratched the back of his neck in thought.

"I don't believe I can replicate them verbatim, but I should be able to provide the majority of what I read, my lady." He smiled and added, "I have the [Perfect Recall] skill at level 5. Perhaps that will help?" Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The others nodded.

"That's a useful scribe skill," Baron Trefin added.

"I have the pseudo version at level 3, and it's a wonder." How many people have they killed? Jack nodded. Greaves removed an expensive pocket watch from his waistcoat.

"Almost ten." He looked at Jack.

"You're with me, my boy." Jack nodded as he was patted on the shoulder.

"I'm heading home. I'll see you all at the hunt, or sooner for some of you." The others shared goodbyes, and a few minutes later, Jack was in Baron Greaves' carriage with his two personal beastkin guards. Jack took a deep breath and gulped.

"My lord. What happens to my family?" Greaves narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing. Unless you want them removed?" Jack shook his head.

"No. No, my lord. I meant, the Inquisition is holding them at an inn somewhere." The Baron chuckled.

"That won't be an issue. When we arrive at my home, I'll send a messenger to have them returned home." Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, my lord. That's a weight off my shoulders." He wasn't lying. Greaves leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're one of us now, and we protect our own. Your family will be protected for as long as you wish them to be." Jack gave a short bow. Fuck. He'd kill them if I asked him to.

"Where do you see your future, Jack?" Greaves asked. Jack leaned into the pseudo [Rogue's Tongue] skill.

"I see myself at your side, my lord." The Baron chuckled and again patted him on the shoulder.

"That won't be a problem, my boy. With your scribe skills, you can take your place at the Royal Library, or you could spend some time at the Academy honing your magic." He smiled.

"If you choose the Academy, the circle will pay for all your tuition fees and any other expenses." He scratched his chin in thought.

"The combination of Apprentice Mage and Apprentice Scribe, supported by Novice Blood Mage and two combat classes, would make for a strong combination as a wanderer like your grandfather. Plus, there are a fair number of blood mages studying there as we speak. You would have support at the Academy, my boy." Jack felt a hint of pressure on his mind as [Assassin's Intuition] pinged. Does he want me to go to the Academy?

Ignoring the fact that he'd be a part of a blood circle that harvested innocent people for skills, he could have his dream job or follow his childhood dream.

"Thank you, my lord. What do you suggest I do?" His intuition told him to butter up the Baron. I'll at least be far away from you at the Academy. Greaves smiled.

"If it were me, Son. I would go to the Academy." He again patted him on the shoulder.

"With training, you'll be capable of travelling the world in search of ancient forbidden texts." I'm not your son, you bastard. Jack fought against the urge to spit in the Baron's face. They see me as a tool to collect more power. He bowed, now understanding his value to the circle, and with it his and his family's safety.

"In that case, my lord. I will take your advice and go to the Academy. Thank you, my lord." He wiped a fake tear of joy from his eye.

"I cannot believe how lucky I've been to fall under your and the circle's protection. I will work my hardest to be useful to the circle and especially to you." Inside, he wanted to tear out his tongue and burn it for betraying his true feelings. The carriage pulled over as the Baron smiled and accepted Jack's praise. The driver hopped down, his boots crunching on the gravel, and opened the carriage door.

"My lord." The driver bowed low. Greaves stepped out first, his cane tapping against the ground. Jack followed, with the two beastkin guards filing behind in perfect formation.

"This is my humble abode." Greaves offered a wry smile as they approached the manor house. Humble was a stretch. The manor rose three storeys, its façade a blend of polished limestone and expensive red brickwork, softened here and there by climbing ivy. Brass lanterns lined the gravel path, their aether-light offering a steady blue glow. It wasn't anywhere near as extravagant as Viscount Tides' sprawling estate, yet it had an austere dignity that fit Greaves' outward fake persona. Jack smiled.

"You have a beautiful home, my lord." He meant it, though his reasons were not what they seemed. Having stalked the Baron for months and researched him for years, he knew plenty about the manor house that stood before him. He knew the guards rotated shifts every four hours, the study window on the east wing stuck in damp weather, and the back gate's lock had once been patched with copper rather than replaced—or at least that would be the case twenty-five years into the future.

Still, standing before it now, he had to admit it projected power, if not excess.

"My lord, is that a carving by the priests of Apollo?" Jack pointed towards the intricate wooden relief set into the double front doors. The carving depicted the sun God's chariot, its rays gilded in fine copper that gleamed when the light struck it. Greaves stopped in his tracks.

"Good eye, my boy. So few young people these days appreciate fine art." He tapped his chin.

"I have a nephew, not much older than you, and he can't tell the difference between a dead tree and a piece of art." Jack chuckled.

"His loss, my lord." He stepped closer to the entrance, his scuffed leather boots contrasting with the marble inlay of the doorstep. He lifted a hand towards the door but paused while lowering his gaze.

"May I?" The Baron smiled and gave a small nod. Jack ran his fingers across the carved surface, tracing the curves of the chariot wheel, the etched rays fanning outward like frozen light. He could feel where the copper had been burnished smooth by decades of polishing.

"Absolutely stunning work, my lord. You can almost feel the history behind it."

"You're full of surprises, my boy," Greaves said as one of the beastkin guards stepped forward to pull the heavy doors open. The hinges moved with surprising silence, no squeal of strain, only a faint click as concealed gears locked and released. Inside, warm lamplight spilled into the night, promising more secrets within.