Chapter 59: The Weight of a Fallen House

The air within Bruce Manor hung heavy, like a leaden block submerged in water.

Each ray of light seemed to carry the very weight of sorrow.

Marcus’s most trusted servant stood silently in the manor’s grand hall.

He brought not solace, but a letter from the Vitra family, along with words that, though cloaked in honey, were laced with arsenic.

“My master is profoundly grieved by the passing of Sir Bruce.”

The servant’s voice resonated like the solemn pronouncement of an obituary.

“The Vitra and Bruce families have enjoyed generations of cordial relations, and in this trying period, we stand ready to offer every necessary assistance.”

Standing opposite him was Bruce’s eldest son, a young man with disheveled hair and eyes shadowed by profound exhaustion.

He had just inherited his father’s noble title, along with the daunting task of salvaging a sprawling family on the brink of collapse.

His fists, concealed within the generous folds of his sleeves, were clenched so tightly that his nails threatened to break the tender skin of his palms.

‘Help?’

Everyone knew the Vitra family’s ‘assistance’ was akin to a vulture’s predatory ‘aid’ to a dying beast.

The servant offered a slight bow, his posture impeccably humble, yet his words cut like blades tempered in glacial ice.

“Especially… concerning the stabilization of value for your esteemed family’s alchemical ventures.”

“My master would be distressed to see the lifelong endeavors of an old friend devalued by temporary upheaval.”

This was, unequivocally, an ultimatum.

A thinly veiled threat, stark and undeniable.

The news of Bruce Hal’s demise, attributed to “cognitive restructuring,” had rippled through the upper echelons of the magical world.

Yet, the precise theory that claimed the life of this Seven-Ring Master remained undisclosed by the Association.

This shroud of mystery proved to be the final, crushing blow to the Bruce family.

To outsiders, what value could remain in the legacies and secret formulae of an alchemical master whose very cause of death threatened to unravel his family’s foundations?

A silent panic was inexorably spreading.

Marcus’s timely offer of ‘assistance’ had struck directly at the heart of their most vulnerable and desperate plight.

“Please… convey my gratitude to Sir Marcus for his… ‘kindness’.”

Bruce’s eldest son practically gnashed the words through gritted teeth, each syllable imbued with the bitter tang of humiliation.

He was utterly without choice.

The servant bowed with an air of satisfaction, then turned and departed.

His retreating form resembled a crow, sated after a meal, taking flight—light and graceful, yet ominously presaging death.

Within the vast hall, only the young man’s solitary figure remained, a stark silhouette against the backdrop of his crumbling family.

***

The turbulent currents of external strife and conspiracy had yet to breach the ivory tower of the Academy.

Lia had recently discovered a new delight: embarking on treasure hunts amidst the dusty tomes within the Academy library.

She deliberately sought out those forgotten corners, thick with centuries of dust and undisturbed by human hands, savoring the quiet communion with history as her fingertips traced across yellowed pages.

One afternoon, nestled on the lowest shelf of a towering bookcase, she stumbled upon an unassuming wooden box.

It bore no magical lock, no protective seal.

Upon opening it, she found not the ancient tome she had anticipated, but a single parchment scroll, crudely bound with a coarse leather thong.

Lia carefully untied the leather thong, which had stiffened with age, and cautiously unfurled the scroll.

There were no intricate magical patterns, only a single line of faded text in the common tongue.

“To the fortuitous soul who encounters this letter;”

“By the time you read this, I presume my family will have long since fallen into decline.”

“We were once a family dedicated to charting the stars and deciphering destiny, yet ultimately, we became lost in the mists of the future. Knowledge, far from saving us, became our very curse.”

“I, the last surviving scion of our lineage, have sealed away our generational wealth, along with a portion of our less ‘perilous’ knowledge, within the ancient ruins of ‘Silent Valley’.”

“Affixed to this scroll are a simple opening incantation and a detailed map.”

“If you possess the courage, then go forth and claim it. Should you find it, it shall be yours.”

“May these worldly riches bestow upon you a more tangible happiness than any ephemeral truth could provide.”

The inscription concluded with a faded family crest: a silver stag, gazing back beneath the ethereal glow of moonlight.

‘A treasure hunt?’

Her gaze immediately shifted to the reverse side of the scroll, where a hastily sketched map came into view, accompanied by several incantations formed from simple syllables.

Strikingly, the map’s starting point was none other than the Royal National Academy of Magic itself.

The destination, conversely, pointed towards a region designated as “Silent Valley.”

Lia promptly made her way to the library’s grand map of the entire kingdom, where she meticulously cross-referenced the locations.

Silent Valley, situated in the border mountains of the kingdom’s northeastern reaches, lay an exceptionally arduous distance from the Academy.

Even by the swiftest magic-powered carriage, the journey would consume nearly a week.

The ultimate treasure of a fallen noble house.

Lia’s fingertip gently tapped the marked location of “Silent Valley” on the map.

‘To go, or not to go?’

The question scarcely lingered in her mind for a fraction of a second.

‘Go!’

‘This is precisely the kind of classic trope found only in the novels of my previous life! Adventure! Exploration! Treasure!’

Nevertheless, such a momentous ‘academic research’ endeavor absolutely necessitated reporting to her mentor.

Lia carefully tucked the scroll away, securing it within her bosom, her steps so buoyant she practically soared towards the lofty tower.

***

Within the study, a familiar silence reigned.

Having listened to Lia’s eager recounting, Klein accepted the parchment scroll from her hand, its surface exuding the distinct aroma of mildew and bygone eras.

Without a word, his fingertips brushed across the scroll’s surface, a barely perceptible wisp of magic extending from them to meticulously scan every intricate line and pattern.

There was no curse.

No mental trap lay hidden.

Not even the most rudimentary protective array.

It was, truly, nothing more than a pure bequest—a gesture of goodwill, or perhaps self-mockery, from a noble house facing its end.

“Silent Valley…”

Klein set the scroll upon the table, his gaze now fixed upon Lia.

“That region was once the site of an ancient, long-abandoned city. However, due to peculiar historical circumstances, the magical environment there is exceptionally intricate, giving rise to unique magical creatures.”

“That sounds incredibly challenging,” Lia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling like twin stars, her face openly broadcasting an eager, unspoken plea: ‘Let me go, let me go!’

Klein observed her eager, expectant demeanor, and a brief silence descended upon him.

He wished for her to experience the broader world firsthand, rather than becoming yet another bookish scholar ensnared by abstract theories.

This sudden, unexpected treasure hunt, perhaps… offered precisely the perfect opportunity.

It would allow her to personally feel the caress of the wind, the rich scent of the earth, and the thrilling pulse of danger, rather than merely deducing the world from cold, impersonal formulae.

“You may go.”

Klein’s crisp, decisive answer instantly choked back the elaborate arguments Lia had meticulously prepared.

She blinked, astonished. “You… you agreed?”

“This presents an excellent opportunity for practical application,” Klein stated calmly. “Theories demand empirical validation through practice. Your understanding of the world cannot remain confined solely to the pages of a book.”

His tone shifted, however, and his deep blue eyes hardened with a newfound seriousness. “However, you must agree to several conditions I shall impose.”

“Name them!” Lia instantly snapped to attention.

“Firstly, you are to wear the ‘Heart of the Guardian’ and the ‘Violet Morning Star Medal at all times; they are not to be removed under any circumstances.”

Lia instinctively touched the familiar contours of the two pendants beneath her collar. One served as an ultimate life-saving trump card, while the other held sealed within it the casual, devastating strike of a Nine-Ring Archmage.

“Secondly,”

Klein continued, turning towards a tall shelving unit by the wall, from which he retrieved a thick stack of scrolls from a securely locked cabinet.

He placed the scrolls onto the table, where they landed with a muffled thud.

“Take these with you.”

Lia, her curiosity piqued, picked up the topmost scroll and unfurled it.

“Cleansing Spell (Enhanced Version): Instantly removes all stains within a five-meter radius, including stubborn grease and bloodstains.”

Lia’s lips twitched involuntarily.

She then picked up the second scroll.

“Portable Thermostatic Tent Generation: When activated, creates a tent suitable for two people, featuring windproof, waterproof, thermostatic, insect-repellent properties, along with soft lighting and a soundproof barrier.”

The third scroll.

“Drinking Water Purification (Luxury Edition): Capable of purifying fifty liters of water at once, eliminating all harmful microorganisms, and fine-tuning the taste to that of mountain spring water.”

The fourth scroll.

“Food Preservation and Heating (Omni-Version).”

It read like a wilderness service menu from a five-star hotel.

She looked up, her gaze peculiar as it met Klein’s.

“Am I… going on a picnic?”

Klein’s expression remained unchanged as he pushed another pile of distinctly colored black scrolls towards her.

“These are for combat.”

Lia picked up one of them; the moment she unfurled it, a sharp magical fluctuation, as if capable of piercing one’s soul, assailed her.

The scroll bore a chilling name.

“Eight-Ring Evocation Spell—’Lance of Lightning’.”

Lia’s hand trembled violently, the priceless scroll nearly slipping from her grasp.

An Eight-Ring Spell!

If sold, this item alone would be enough to purchase the entire manor of a small city’s lord!

“This… this is far too valuable!” she stammered.

“Safety is more valuable than anything.”

Klein meticulously sorted the stacks of utility and combat scrolls, binding them with a mithril ribbon before handing them to Lia.

“The spell models within these scrolls have been simplified; with your current mental energy, you can cast them instantly. Remember, if you encounter danger you cannot resolve, do not hesitate for a moment.”

He paused, his voice deepening slightly.

“Especially the spell contained within that medal; its sole purpose is to ensure your survival in any desperate situation.”

Lia clutched the hefty bundle of scrolls, feeling their considerable weight.

This weight stemmed not merely from the scrolls themselves, but from an unspoken yet profoundly clear concern.

She looked at Klein’s perpetually impassive face and suddenly realized that his care was always hidden in these most clumsy, most direct gestures.

“Understood.” Lia nodded emphatically, carefully tucking all the scrolls into her spatial ring.

“I have seen the map.”

Klein moved behind his desk and unfurled a more detailed, kingdom-wide map.

“Departing from the Academy via public magic carriage, you can reach Leafhaven, the town nearest to Silent Valley, in six days.”

“The subsequent journey will require your own planning and arrangement.”

With his pen, he traced a clear route for her on the map.

“I will arrange this segment of your journey. You will depart the day after tomorrow, in the early morning.”

Lia gazed at the red line on the map, leading into the unknown, and realized her impromptu treasure hunt was now set in motion.

She suddenly felt as though she wasn’t merely an adventurer seeking treasure.

Lia looked at the stack of scrolls she had tucked into her ring and couldn’t help but murmur, “He truly worries too much…”

“What did you say?” Klein looked up.

“Nothing!” Lia immediately shook her head, a demure smile gracing her face. “I said, Mentor, you are incredibly thoughtful!”

Klein did not press further, though a flicker of amusement seemed to dance in his deep blue eyes.

Outside, night gradually descended.