Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 30 Parting Ways 2

"Alright, the reason you are here is because your pretty little ex-girlfriend requested for you to be released from serving the Kingdom and treated well with everything you need to start a new life of peace!" He sighed in appreciation.

"And because of that, she used her once per lifetime right as a Kingdom Royal to bequeath unto you an item of the Artefact grade... To which the Duke agreed and instructed what he wants you to have..."

A wistful smile crossed his face for but a moment as he whispered the next few words nearly inaudibly.

"What a good girl she is..."

Not pausing to let his words sink into Lars' doubly shocked brain, the old man with still sharp and lively eyes continued on.

"Let's see... Here's what I need to give you. Most of it was prepared by Sari--Sharon based on Duke Silvan's instructions... Let's see, let's see" The noble spoke with a completely straight face, not mocking or making fun of the previously male ex-invigilator at all.

According to those in the know, apparently an operation was done to "facilitate" things - a 10-minute chopping board surgery performed without anaesthesia... The blood-curdling screams had started out hoarse and then turned... Different. Appalling and disturbing.

He held up the crumpled piece of paper before his eyes, squinting as he did not have his reading monocle with him, left in the room which he dared not go near until the Duke departed. Which would happen in roughly 10 minutes if his calculations were correct.

He waved to the youth to follow after him, not giving him room to digest the frequent changes in pace or situation. And as he stepped out of the room, his aura returned once more to that of an unyielding taskmaster, though one far more gentle than the other members of the management.

They weaved past piles of documents, ledgers, journals, files and folders with frantic staff hard at work to clear the "IN" tray and move them to the "OUT" tray. Lars shivered once more - he was glad that he was not one of them.

Despite his love for reading and books, at the thought of having to write thousands of words daily, every day, for months on end or even years... He felt amazed at these people's dedication to their jobs!

But he didn't envy them.

They left the workspace and administrative area and went out to a long and musty corridor, then down a staircase into a damp cellar. Despite the humid air, it was well lit and very, very clean. Perhaps cleaned just before the Duke's visit...? Lars then yawned involuntarily as he followed his guide through a guarded door, tired from his overactive mind and lack of sleep the night prior.

Behind the door was another well-lit and neat office. There was a long and sturdy wooden counter partitioning the centre of the room. It smelled peculiar, like a mix of paper, dust and oil. The room was dry and not humid at all, which was strange - the hallway just outside made one sticky and sweaty just from a brisk walk through it!

Behind the counter sat another old man with medium length white hair doing some calculations on an abacus, causing constant and slightly annoying clicking and clacking sound. He didn't even look up when they entered, so engrossed was he in his counting.

All the way until Murad and the boy were standing right in front of the counter, nearly under his nose with their bodies casting flickering shadows across his device. And yet he still didn't notice them!

"Noone." Murad called out sharply, trying to draw his attention.

'Noon...? It's still morning...? Is that a code?' Lars thought, brows raised as he stood at attention behind the older man.

"Yes, Murad. I noticed you enter with that--" His drooping eyelids flickered wider to take a gander at the assassin boy, "--kid." His dextrous fingers did not stop moving as he continued with his calculations.

"What..." He murmured to himself and his hands paused, hesitating as if pondering some tough problem.

"Aha!" His face was filled with glee and his fingers returned to manipulating the abacus, the clicking and clacking sound redoubled in their volume and frequency. He had clearly solved some difficult computation and was obviously pleased with himself!

The balding Murad waited for a while, expecting the resident treasurer and head book-keeper to resume his question where he left off.

They ended up waiting for a full minute and a half with no signs of the calculations stopping.

"Ahem! Noone! The Duke has instructions, we need the items on this list urgently!" Hearing the balding man speak sharply and with irritation, Lars was surprised on three counts!

Firstly, there had never been a single case ever before, not even once in the known history of the Arena where the Vizier had raised his voice! Not a single time!

Didn't that mean that the man in front of him was someone who he had a long history of irritation or bad-blood with...?

Secondly, the Vizier, as a powerful man who stood nearly at the pinnacle of the authority of the nation, had not taken any action whatsoever or any threatening moves despite being abjectly ignored by the gnomish accountant. That was shocking, especially when compared to the earlier scene at the assembly where a head went flying just for a word out of place!

Didn't that mean that the man in front of him was nearly as powerful, if not the equal of, the Vizier...? Here in a musty store room managing the inventory and accounts of the Arena...?

Thirdly, it seemed the squinting white-haired man's name really was Noon... Or Noone...

The said man looked up, hands still moving fast and furious on the abacus. Then with one final emphatic flick of his hand, he moved the beads heavily with a resounding *CLACK!* and stopped.

"I--" he grabbed the paper rudely, took a glance that was too quick to have seen anything then crumped the paper up and threw it away dismissively. He then marched speedily towards the room behind him while speaking in an out-of-breath voice.

"I was calculating just how we will tide it through the coming month's with all the damages, repairs, food, water, supplies, equipment..." He began to list out a long catalogue of items as he rummaged through drawers, lockers, safes and cabinets and picked out items seemingly at random. But from the look on Murad's face, this was normal. Also, from his approving nod, those were the same items on the list.

How had he read and memorised it so fast...?

The man neared the end of his irritated tirade, "...extra guards, extra food for the extra guards. AND paying for Sarin's salary WHILE we still need to hire another in his place!" He slammed a heavy bag of jingling coins onto the counter in front of the duo, which startled Lars but did not perturb Murad in the least. Looked like he was already used to these kinds of exchanges.

The treasurer had already laid out the various items on the list. For food and various other supplies, he had written a delivery order on a sheet of yellow paper for him to collect the items at the warehouse area himself.

Apart from that, there were 4 items, 1 fewer than what was written on the list.

At that time, Noone sighed, then snapped his fingers, causing one of the stone walls to rumble as it magically changed into a gigantic vault door. The man then hurried over to the vault door and tapped on it, at which point the door swung open.

He walked in and out of sight in front of the waiting eyes of the duo.

When he emerged, he had with him a dusty and rusted sword. He held it carefully, as if he were afraid it would break.

The sword was slightly longer than a standard longsword and had a hilt longer than that of a bastard sword. When observed closely, the sheathed blade looked like it had the slightest bit of curvature to it, mostly towards the tip. The most distinct features were the round guard that looked ornate despite its age, and the scabbard that was a mouldy looking blackish green-brown.

It looked... Cheap.

But it couldn't be a normal item - it was stored in likely the safest place in the entire Arena, by a hidden no-name whose power and status was probably in the top 10 or 20 of the entire nation!

As Lars looked on in fascination and the vizier tapped his foot impatiently, Noone listed out the items set out one by one.

"Border pass for the Kingdom of the Sands and allied nations." A red rectangular booklet.

"20 platinum and 100 gold coins, enough to provide for a family of three for 20 years." The jingling bag.

"A requisition order for food and a letter of instruction to join the supply wagons that are leaving to the nearest town in... 2 hours time." Two sheets of yellowed paper.

"And... On the personal instruction of the Duke..." He slowly and reverentially picked up the blade, then breathed in deep, before holding the air in his lungs and surrounding himself with thick and strong battle aura, as if bracing himself for a monumental action.

He unsheathed the katana.

When the first inch of metal was unveiled, it gave off a blinding explosion of radiance, forcing Lars to squint and cover his eyes. Still, he strained to see the unsheathing of the resplendent blade, forcing his eyes open and supplementing his eyesight with mana.

As more and more of the sword was revealed, the intensity of the light lessened and faded to a tolerable level - the brilliance was now like a smouldering flame surrounding the blade.

Having confirmed that this was the real deal he had retrieved from the Arena vault, the World-Class level monk returned it to its scabbard, ending the spectacular display of might and power.

Once the blade was sheathed, the three stood for a moment, silent, basking in what they had just witnessed. For Lars, and even based on Mikael's memories, this was the first time seeing anything like this.

Earth had many myths about such artefacts and treasures, but none of them had been found. Not Excalibur, not Masume, not Gungnir - not any of them had appeared ever in modern history. It was unsure if any of these were ever really truly existent on Earth or were just like their names - mere myths!

Whereas for Noone and the Vizier, they had a different thought to ponder: Why would the Duke specifically instruct them to hand over a National-level treasure to a wet-nosed boy...? Instead of just a normal Artefact grade treasure?

Reluctantly, the keeper of the vault of treasures handed the sword over to the as yet unworthy boy - at least, unfit and undeserving in the World-Class combatant's eyes.

Nary did he realise that the "boy" in front of him had already far exceeded him by a whole realm, and was well on the way to the next tier entirely!

But regardless of their disdain and envy towards the youth, the next moment would be a scene engraved in their memories forever, going down in their family's and to the third and fourth generation of their descendants as the beginning of a Legend Reborn.

The moment the sword was placed in Lars hand and he gripped it...

Chapter end