Chapter Forty-Seven: A Misunderstanding

Convinced that he had already seen through everything, Captain Barton quickly summoned the accompanying apprentice sorcerer of the Stormrider Knights, Mr. El.

Mr. El had not participated in the raid on the Wizard's Tower; in truth, he was a non-combatant sorcerer's apprentice. He appeared older than Sir Barton by several years, and at such an age, the hope of advancing from a senior apprentice to a full-fledged sorcerer was all but gone. He had long since realized this, so he simply gave up on studying combat magic, choosing instead to learn several supportive spells.

No matter the circumstance, someone skilled in a craft will always find a place to put their talents to use. Thus, Mr. El became an indispensable member of the Stormrider Knights. He served the order, earning several times the pay of an ordinary knight, while pouring all his hopes into the next generation—supporting his youngest son, who was studying sorcery at Grim Academy, with all his might.

As for his youthful dreams of becoming a sorcerer, perhaps only in the stillness of midnight, as sleep eluded him, would he recall them now and then.

“Captain, you called for me?” Mr. El’s voice was far older than his appearance.

“Yes, I need to send this message to the Marshal. I’m counting on you, Mr. El,” Barton said, handing him the sheet of paper.

Mr. El took the paper without glancing at its contents. He folded it carefully, and soon it took the shape of a paper crane. Then, he softly chanted an incantation.

As Mr. El spoke, the paper crane rose gently into the air, then accelerated skyward, quickly vanishing into the distance.

This was the second-level spell, “Paper Crane,” a magic used for delivering messages. Compared to a sorcerer’s familiar, it was slower, and unlike the familiar, the paper crane could not share the sorcerer’s protective aura, making it easier to intercept or destroy. Still, it sufficed for carrying messages that were not of utmost importance.

After casting the spell, Mr. El did not leave, but waited silently with Captain Barton. Around forty minutes later, a magpie flew in. Mr. El recognized it as a familiar from the front lines.

He took out a prepared magic stone to feed the messenger, then untied a scroll from its leg and handed it with both hands to Captain Barton before quietly withdrawing.

Barton impatiently unrolled the scroll and, after reading it, fell silent for a long time. Only after an age did he call out, “Someone, fetch Allen here at once.”

When Allen arrived, Captain Barton looked at the young man’s handsome face and, recalling the Marshal’s instructions, could not help but feel a surge of envy.

“Boss, you wanted to see me?” Allen’s familiar greeting, once a sign of camaraderie, now grated harshly on Barton’s ears. What once felt friendly now seemed utterly devoid of respect.

But the Marshal’s orders could not be ignored. So, Captain Barton forced the same genial, honest smile he had always worn in front of Allen.

Marshal Vaughan had paid no heed to the rights and wrongs of Dallas City; he cared only for the outcome. The result was that the entire County of Collin had become a land without a master—a heaven-sent opportunity to seize control. Thus, Barton had no choice but to rewrite his report on the events in Dallas to suit the Marshal’s wishes.

In this new report, Viscount Collin had embezzled the kingdom’s strategic supplies. When his crimes were exposed, he grew desperate and conspired with the Gillian people and the enemy spy Schmidt to murder the sorcerer Stein. Their aim was to seize Dallas, split the kingdom, and plot a joint attack on Silverwing Fortress alongside both Collin’s domain and the Principality of Sion. His son Edward was his chief accomplice.

It was Allen Barr, the shrewd and courageous knight, who first uncovered the Viscount’s plot. With the help of an anonymous, well-meaning sorcerer’s apprentice, he slew the Viscount’s chief henchman, Knight Commander Cromwell, as well as the “Masked Rider” Schmidt, and beheaded hundreds of Gillian radicals.

The Viscount and his son, fearing Allen’s might, fled in terror and vanished without a trace…

In short, all glory was to be given to Allen the Great Knight. Marshal Vaughan’s intention was clear: to pave the way for Allen to become the new lord of Collin County. As captain, Barton would have to hide his own accomplishments and smooth Allen’s path.

Though Barton, like Allen, held a knight’s noble title—and though his achievements, rank, and seniority all surpassed Allen’s—there was one thing Allen possessed that Barton could never match: his background.

Now, with the lordship of Collin County vacant—a fief so large its master must at least be a baron, a rank that only the king himself could bestow—it was clear who the favorite would be. Barton, a protégé of Marshal Vaughan who had risen through the ranks, would encounter insurmountable resistance, given the current frosty relations between the capital’s nobility and the Marshal.

Allen Barr was a different story. His family wielded extraordinary influence in the capital. By proposing Allen’s elevation, Marshal Vaughan could reduce opposition in the capital and curry favor with the Barr family. In fact, a mere hint of support from the Marshal would set the Barr family in motion to ensure the plan’s success, without the Marshal lifting a finger.

Barton knew the Marshal had weighed every factor, but he could not quell the resentment in his heart. He had served loyally, risking life and limb, yet the rewards all fell to a privileged son of the capital. The Marshal, he thought, was being grossly unfair.

Seeing Allen’s face light up with joy at the news only deepened Barton’s irritation.

While Barton stewed, Andy was returning home with Catherine after shopping in town. Because their purchases were rather private, he hadn’t mentioned them to Bill or Jella.

He had bought dried fish, meatballs, balls of yarn—all for Catherine, of course.

Although Catherine now possessed a human soul, she could not suppress certain feline instincts. Andy felt there was no harm in this; everyone had their quirks. So he let her be, even indulging her whims.

Chatting as they went, Andy and Catherine made their way toward his room. Not far away, in Bill’s room, Bill was adjusting his new alchemical equipment.

Worried that their impersonation of Viscount Collin might be exposed, Bill had recently asked Diga to teach him how to build a sound monitoring device. He had installed sound catchers in the corners around the courtyard and set up a receiver, like a “speaker,” in his room.

This way, if anything happened outside, Bill would know at once. Diga had told him that he was not yet powerful enough, but if he reached the level of a Silver Sorcerer and mastered image-capturing spells, he could craft alchemical devices for real-time visual surveillance.

Though Diga dismissed Bill’s invention as worthless junk, Bill was quite proud of his handiwork. He had been secretly assembling it, eager to present his finished work to Jella.

Suddenly, he heard Andy’s voice through the receiver: “Catherine, do you think we should sleep in separate rooms?” The question was followed by several disgruntled cat-like yowls.

Bill’s face turned ashen as he listened. He stood up, trembling, his expression shifting rapidly, then choked out, “A Nethercat! You actually turned Catherine into a Nethercat.”

At first, when Diga spoke of Nethercats, Bill hadn’t paid it much mind. He knew full well Andy had no powerful backer. He assumed Diga, trapped in a necklace for ten thousand years, might have a skewed view of the world. Perhaps what was precious in ancient times was commonplace now—or vice versa.

But now, having heard Andy’s words, Bill’s mind raced with foreboding thoughts. With shaking hands, he turned the receiver’s volume to maximum, and at last he heard Catherine speaking with mimicry magic.

Bill’s eyes blurred with tears, his ears ringing so loudly he could no longer focus on what Catherine was saying.

He could not help but remember their days in the Wizard’s Tower.

After all, Andy had old Brown to look after him; only Bill and Catherine were true orphans. Bill had always doted on Catherine, but she was a stubborn girl, always running to Andy. This made Bill resent Andy, and with Master Stein always favoring Andy as well, Bill’s dislike only grew.

Rage brought color to Bill’s pale cheeks, his eyes reddening as he muttered, “How could you… how could you…”

Bang! Bill slammed his fist on the table, smashing the receiver to pieces.

He did not care as the shards cut his hand and blood dripped freely. He suddenly raised his head, articulating every word: “If you have her, you don’t have me!”