Chapter 39
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Translator: MJK
Chapter: 039
Chapter Title: Below Expectations
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"His Excellency the Count has invited you, Mage. Here is the invitation."
Saturday morning. Andy came face-to-face with two soldiers who had shown up at his inn room. They were city guards.
What they had brought was none other than an invitation. The Count, ruler of the city, had summoned him.
"The Count invited me? Any idea why...?"
"That's beyond our knowledge. We're just following orders."
"..."
Andy opened the letter and read it.
It was written in elegant script: Mage Andy was cordially invited to the Count's castle at his earliest convenience.
The boy pondered.
Why would a Count suddenly invite me? Sure, I'm a mage, but a mere first-circle one—hardly worth the bother...
If Andy had been an advanced mage—fifth circle or higher—the invitation wouldn't have raised eyebrows.
High-ranking mages were treated as peers to counts and other great nobles. It was only natural to invite one visiting your city and build rapport.
But Andy was just first circle. Unaffiliated, young, and frail to boot.
Yet a high noble like the Count had invited him anyway. Far below someone of that stature's notice.
What could it be about?
Guess I'll find out when I go.
With that settled, Andy told the soldiers,
"I'll come by tomorrow morning."
"We'll relay that to His Excellency. We'll take our leave, then. Have a fine day."
The soldiers departed the inn once he accepted.
Andy threw on his coat.
Library's gonna have to wait.
He had planned to head to the library for once over the weekend and do some reading.
But with the Count's invitation in hand, he couldn't just kill time with books. He needed to prepare properly before the meeting.
First, new clothes. And a trim. Meeting a noble looking like this would be a grave insult.
The outfit Andy wore wasn't particularly fine.
He'd never put much stock in appearances to begin with. Even now, with a decent amount of coin to his name, his clothes were those of an ordinary commoner.
But showing up to see a noble dressed like that? Undoubtedly rude.
They might even dismiss him as insignificant. People tended to judge status by attire.
He'd need to dress the part, more or less.
Waste of money. I'll outgrow it in no time anyway...
In the thick of his growth spurt, Andy hated to shell out for quality garb that he'd wear for mere weeks.
But there was no helping it. No matter how he sliced it, his current getup wouldn't cut it for meeting the Count.
Andy rushed to get ready.
The next morning, Andy headed for the Count's castle.
A massive structure dominating the city's heart. Gazing up at the towering fortress, Andy muttered,
"Never thought I'd set foot in there."
He passed it every time on the way to Estelle's workshop, but entering had never crossed his mind.
Andy recalled Estelle's words.
-Tips for dealing with nobles? Ah... yeah, makes sense you'd be nervous. You've never mingled with them.
The day before, after buying clothes and getting a haircut,
Andy had gone straight to Estelle's workshop. He explained the situation—the invitation from the Count's house—and asked what he should know.
Nobles take etiquette seriously, from what I've heard. Better safe than sorry.
Living lives where every word and gesture carried layers of meaning, exhausting themselves with formality. That was Andy's image of nobles.
Facing one now, he couldn't help feeling cautious.
He'd asked Estelle for pointers on handling nobility. As a mid-tier mage from a mage family, she'd surely dealt with them plenty.
Her response:
-No need to fret at all! The pompous, obnoxious types you have in mind? Those are bureaucrat nobles. No lands of their own, scraping by on paperwork. Smarmy politicians, the lot.
-Territorial nobles aren't like that. They prioritize substance over show.
-Especially Carius the Count. His house carved out this brutal north to earn their title. They despise empty posturing more than most.
The 'pompous' ones Andy knew of were mostly central bureaucrats,
for whom politics was life. Without estates, they resorted to all sorts of antics to inflate their influence.
But nobles with lands—especially frontier ones—were different. Having tamed wild lands over generations, they shunned frivolity.
-And... even if you mess up, they won't care. You're a mage. No need to bow to noble etiquette.
Besides, Andy was a mage.
Mages inhabited a world apart from nobles, just as nobles did from commoners.
Nobles had their rites; mages had their own culture.
Thus, no reason for mage Andy to fuss over noble protocol. Nice if he did, but hardly an insult if he didn't.
That eased my mind a bit.
He'd been inwardly fretting over offending a great noble like the Count.
But his mage status meant he could relax.
Andy felt truly at ease.
"Alright, then. Let's head in."
Shaking off his worries, Andy strode confidently toward the castle.
The inner gates swung open.
"We've been expecting you, Mage. I'll escort you to the Count. This way, please."
A servant awaited Andy.
He followed the man to the castle's reception hall.
"Your Excellency, the mage has arrived. He'll be here shortly."
"Hm."
The servant reported to the Count. Demian Carius nodded.
"Finally, a chance to lay eyes on that so-called 'genius mage' boy."
The Count knew the basics about Andy, gleaned from his son Dietrich.
Dietrich described him as a mage of unbelievable talent.
"Built a circle at just twelve, hunted mid-grade magic beasts despite being first circle, tamed a spirit beast, and single-handedly drove off hundreds of Empire soldiers..."
Heh. Demian let out a small chuckle. The tales sounded utterly fantastical.
He turned to the man beside him.
"That fool Dietrich. He needs to talk sense. No mage like that exists. Right, Bryce?"
The reception hall wasn't empty save for Demian.
Seated next to the Count was a robed elder.
A mage friend, having reached the lofty heights of fifth circle—a high mage.
Bryce Haytor.
Bryce was here at the Count's request, to scrutinize this purported genius boy.
To Bryce's twisted smile, he replied,
"You're telling me. What nonsense... Even scions of great mage houses can't pull that off. Demian."
Bryce hailed from a prestigious mage lineage himself.
Born with talent superior to most, backed by his family's vast resources.
Once hailed a prodigy.
Circle at fifteen. Third in his twenties. Fourth in his thirties. Now, in his sixties, fifth circle.
Bryce held one firm conviction.
There are no geniuses in this world. Just those slightly more gifted, slightly more outstanding than the rest.
Genius was a myth.
He'd met many who deemed themselves geniuses, but all fell within comprehensible bounds.
A bit quicker to achieve, a tad more clever. None truly overwhelming.
He too had once fancied himself a genius.
A phase of arrogance, strutting ahead of peers, presuming innate brilliance.
Embarrassing in hindsight.
Genius was delusion.
Human talent had clear limits; self-proclaimed geniuses merely approached theirs closer.
Intoxicated by their progress, mistaking it for uniqueness... How shameful.
Thus, Bryce pegged this Andy boy as merely talented, nothing special.
"Well, we'll know soon enough. Bryce, go easy on him. He's just a young lad, and he did help my son."
"No worries. I'll keep it moderate."
Once the boy arrived, mage Bryce would test him.
Then they'd see if he was the 'genius' Dietrich claimed—or just ordinary.
Demian mused,
Half of half what Dietrich described would suffice. That'd make him a solid talent worth recruiting.
Demian intended to enlist Andy into his fold if the boy's gifts proved substantial.
Knock knock.
-The mage has arrived. Opening the door.
The reception hall doors parted, and a boy stepped inside.
The doors opened, revealing the reception hall's interior to the boy.
It was tastefully austere overall.
The brown leather sofas gleamed softly; antique furnishings lent an air of refined age. Stone walls evoked history. The wall-hung paintings were subdued.
Plain over flashy.
Perfect for weighty discussions.
...Estelle was right about shunning pomp.
He'd figured nobles craved opulence and splendor, but this felt distant from such excess.
The guest reception—supposedly the flashiest room—was so restrained.
Andy shifted his gaze.
"Come in. I'm Demian Carius. Here, have a seat."
An elderly man gestured to the sofa.
For a split second, Andy's mind flashed to someone.
Dietrich?
If Dietrich slimmed down a good deal and aged, he'd look just like that.
Odd.
Why did the Count's face evoke Dietrich's?
And why...
"I've heard all about you from Dietrich. Quite the impressive exploits. Curiosity got the better of me, so I called you here."
...did Dietrich's name come from his mouth?
Andy couldn't make sense of it.
"You look baffled. No sense hiding it. Truth is, Dietrich's my son. Surprised? Not so shocking—nobles siring a bastard or two is commonplace. You didn't think that greenhorn earned his merchant status on merit, did you?"
"..."
Andy gaped blankly.
From the Count's words, Dietrich seemed to be his bastard...
A noble after all?
Not full noble blood, true, but still...
Andy let out an involuntary chuckle. Rude, he knew, but it slipped out.
Never guessed his birth was noble-commoner mix from the start.
Back at their first meeting.
Dietrich's bearing was noble-refined, speech commoner-casual. Unforgettable.
Who'd have thought his very origins straddled both worlds?
Quasi-noble. Neither fully one nor the other. Gestures, speech, birth—all in between.
The Count pressed on.
"Two weeks back, my runaway son returns after over a decade and makes this plea. There's a mage he owes a debt to—must repay him. Offered his succession rights in exchange for outfitting the mage."
"..."
"Piqued my interest. What sort of man inspires sacrificing inheritance? Who does he hold in such genuine esteem...?"
The Count's deep-set eyes raked over the boy, sharp as if peering into his soul. Eyes honed by decades appraising talent.
He murmured low,
"But... you're a letdown. Face full of timidity, eyes brimming with frailty. Word was you faced hundreds of Empire troops alone—no hint of such grit or poise. Doesn't strike me as exceptional, not in the least."
In the Count's judgment, Andy was your run-of-the-mill timid youth.
Cowardly, fearful, the type to get picked on by peers. Utterly at odds with the bold figure he'd anticipated from tales of soloing Empire squads.
Demian wore a disappointed frown.
He turned to his old friend.
"Bryce. Your take? As a mage, you'll see what I miss."
"..."
"...Bryce?"
Yet for some reason.
Unlike the Count's letdown gaze,
High mage Bryce stared at Andy with wide-eyed shock.