Archmage (2)
Owen responded.
"Bellatel. Come down from your seclusion and join the world once more. I would have your aid in my endeavors henceforth."
"What? Huh?"
Bellatel, listening intently, was utterly flabbergasted by the unexpected request.
In truth, since Owen had let him win the chess game, he had been prepared to grant a reasonable favor.
For the famously prickly Bellatel, that was quite generous.
But what was this?
"You want me to come down the mountain and serve as your lackey?"
"Not a lackey, sir. I merely ask to borrow your strength."
"Isn't that just a fancy way of saying 'clean up after me'? Are you some noble bloodline? Imperial kin, perhaps?"
"No, sir. I'm the son of a rural knight. Currently, I manage the Fifth Dragon Stable under the Duke of Surpuk."
"And a punk like you wants what? Ha!"
Bellatel laughed in disbelief and shook his head.
"Forget it. Even the Emperor couldn't drag me out. You have no idea how absurd you're sounding. You're young and green, and since you let me win the bet, I won't hold it against you. But prattle on like that again, and I'll give you a warning zap, boy!"
Bellatel waved him off dismissively, as if shooing a pesky fly.
But Owen's next words made his face harden.
"Shouldn't you repay the debt you owe Duke Glendower?"
"What?"
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41856/16549824109366.jpg
"He saved your life, did he not?"
"Hmph... So you know something after all. And you tracked me to my hiding spot. How old are you this year?"
"Sixteen."
"Sixteen... Duke Glendower died twenty years ago. No connection to you. How do you know this?"
Owen offered the excuse he'd prepared in advance.
"My father was acquainted with Duke Glendower."
"What's your father's name?"
"Logan Leire."
"Rings a bell... Go on."
"You once swore to repay Duke Glendower for saving your life."
"True enough. What business is that of your father's?"
"The duke transferred that promise to my father."
"What?"
"Don't you remember? When the duke said it was no concern of his, you insisted on repaying it to someone else."
"No..."
Suddenly, cold sweat beaded on Bellatel's brow.
A bad premonition gripped him.
He racked his brain for the dusty memory.
Duke Glendower had indeed saved his life.
He'd wanted to repay the favor, but it was brushed off as unnecessary.
Owen Glendower had seen it as no big deal and didn't want to burden the man.
But to a proud archmage, that was an insult to his pride.
To dismiss his gratitude as unnecessary!
In the end, he'd stubbornly declared that if not to Glendower, he'd transfer the debt to someone else.
He never imagined the duke had actually done it.
Damn that Glendower bastard!
Bellatel was dumbfounded, curses bubbling up inside.
"I see the situation. But I can't just take your word. Got proof?"
"I know the details of what happened."
Owen began recounting the incident in vivid detail.
The day Archmage Bellatel nearly died? He'd gotten drunk and tripped in a wheat field.
His arm snapped, and he face-planted into a pile of horse manure nearby, nearly suffocating.
His mind was so fogged that no spells came to him.
That's when the passing Duke Owen Glendower rescued him.
In truth, the duke might have refused repayment simply because he didn't want to deal with a manure-stinking mage anymore.
For Bellatel, it was black history incarnate.
As Owen spoke, Bellatel's face flushed red then pale by turns.
"Damn it! That Glendower! Spilling it all like that!"
Bellatel exploded in rage.
Another soul who knew of that night's disgrace had appeared.
"I won't breathe a word. Bellatel, will you help me?"
"Blackmail, eh? Haha. I could wipe you out right here!"
Owen didn't flinch at the archmage's outburst.
He knew the man was ill-tempered but not evil.
"If you did, the duke's salvation would be wasted."
"What!"
Bellatel growled, but he quickly racked his brains for a way out.
He'd barely escaped the mortal world; plunging back into that mire was absurd.
"Even so, no dice. Coming out into the world? Ask for something feasible. Bah!"
"You intend to refuse repayment?"
"Not that. Make a practical demand. I've got my reasons for holing up in Golden Mountain. Can't go back out there."
Bellatel drew a firm line.
But Owen wasn't disappointed.
He'd expected this from the start.
Even a lifesaver had limits.
In truth, he'd made an outrageous demand deliberately, to make his real goal seem reasonable by comparison.
"Very well, I'll revise my request, Bellatel."
"Smart lad. Speak."
"There's a man body-modified by dark elf sorcery. Without their periodic drugs, he goes mad and serves as their puppet."
"Hmph... I know the type. They're still using that foul art? Thought Glendower wiped it out long ago."
"It's real. I've a temporary substitute for the drugs, but I need a permanent cure. Can you save him, Bellatel?"
"Gah... Damn it! Just as annoying."
Bellatel scowled fiercely.
Reversing dark elf body modifications on a human was grueling work.
It would take at least a month or two.
The mere thought soured his mood; he scratched his head furiously.
Thus had Owen primed him—start with the impossible, so the 'alternative' couldn't be refused without losing face.
Refusing this would sting his pride too.
At last, Bellatel sighed deeply, lamenting his fate.
"Haa... If only I hadn't face-planted in that horse shit..."
"Think of it as saving one soul."
"You infernal brat. Fine! But if word of that day spreads, you're first on my list. Got it?"
"Thank you, Bellatel."
The matter resolved smoother than expected.
Owen mused that life would be far easier if everything went like this.
With the main business done, he voiced his curiosity.
"By the way, Bellatel—how is an orc here? A legendary one like Karaku, no less."
"You know him?"
"Read of him in war histories. A calamity to humans. How did he reach so deep into the Empire...?"
Orcs weren't unseen in the Empire.
They appeared at the eastern fortress zones now and then.
Merchants trading, or those surrendered and living in human society.
But Golden Mountain was far west, even for the 'eastern' regions.
A bit further, and you'd hit the imperial core territories.
Owen couldn't fathom an orc here.
"I get why you're tilting your head. But details are off-limits. Just know he's an exile."
"Exile?"
"Aye. Fled here with his men from the madness brewing in the Eastern Plains."
Owen's curiosity piqued—what madness gripped the orc plains?
From the looks, Karaku was Bellatel's guest.
No doubt the mage would clam up on guest details.
Of course, there were ways around it.
Play chess with Karaku and pry it out.
Bellatel likely wouldn't mind if the orc spilled it himself.
"Karaku and his lot stay here, helping with my work. They earn their keep."
"I see."
With conversation winding down, Bellatel eyed the chessboard greedily again.
"Brat. Give me a killer move to use on that Karaku—secret-like. You won't refuse, right?"
"I have one or two..."
As they discussed over the board, a booming voice thundered.
"Mage! Where are you? Mage!"
Unmistakably an orc—not human.
Wondering what happened, a burly orc burst through the brush.
Shockingly, he was bloodied as if from fierce battle.
Arrows protruded from his armor, and one arm was missing entirely.
"What happened?!"
Startled, Bellatel leaped up.
Golden Mountain was peaceful.
An orc warrior who could guard himself was in this state? No ordinary matter.
"The herb farm and warehouse were raided!"
"What?! Really?!"
"Three brothers dead! Hurry! Urk!"
The orc collapsed, overcome by pain.
"Damn!"
Bellatel rushed emergency aid, then grabbed his staff and headed out.
Owen decided to follow.
"Ben! Watch this orc."
"Lord have mercy! Young master, me tendin' an orc? He won't eat me, will he?"
"Won't happen. Don't worry."
Reassuring Ben, Owen hurried after Bellatel.
"What is it, Bellatel? Herb farm?"
"Perfect timing. Know how to use that sword at your hip?"
"Well enough not to embarrass myself."
"Good. Come along."
Bellatel swung his staff, summoning two sturdy mules.
"Mount up!"
Bellatel hopped on one and led down the mountain path.
Owen followed suit.
The mules navigated the trails adeptly.
After twenty minutes, a cluster of cabins appeared ahead.
An odd sight amid the peaks.
Up close, signs of battle and plunder everywhere.
Orc corpses lay about; cabin doors smashed open.
Weapons scattered.
Owen spotted one and froze.
"A dark elf scimitar!"
Bellatel entered the largest cabin first and found damning proof.
A dark elf corpse, skull split by an orc axe.
"These damned vermin! How dare they come here!"
Bellatel raged, staff aimed at the surroundings.
Ready to blast any dark elf with lightning—but silence reigned; they'd fled.
Chaos everywhere.
Precious magical herbs and reagents strewn about.
Clear signs of a dark elf band ransacking the place.
Rifling wildly for valuables.
"Bellatel, what is this place?"
"My facility. For growing rare herbs and storing reagents. Hired Karaku's orcs as guards—all slaughtered."
They scoured the area; footprints suggested many intruders.
"Dozens hit here. Even orc warriors couldn't hold against that."
"Can't fathom it. Why a dark elf band here, of all places? Not the north."
Bellatel had concealed the area with magic.
Yet signs of forced entry remained.
"After your warehouse?"
"Doesn't seem so. Looks like they came in a rush and left in one. See this? Rare herb—dropped and forgotten. Didn't find my hidden gold or gems either."
Owen nodded, scanning anew.
It felt impulsive.
"Bellatel, they probably stumbled on it by chance and looted."
"My thoughts exactly. Dark elves are methodical. If targeting this, they'd have been thorough—not this mess."
"Skilled in magic, they sensed and breached your wards."
"What a disaster..."
Bellatel nodded bitterly.
They finished investigating and hurried back.
Orcs had gathered, fully armed—Karaku plus fifteen more.
Poor Ben huddled nearby, shivering.
"Bellatel! My friend! What outrage is this? Who killed our brothers?!"
Karaku could barely contain his fury, growling like a caged lion.
His orcs shook hammers and axes, roaring.
Bellatel explained. The orcs clamored to pursue and avenge.
But he shook his head firmly.
"No. Too late."
"What?! Bellatel, I won't heed you if you say abandon them."
"Not that, friend. Dark elves are swift as wind. Your heavy steps won't catch them."
"What!"
"Rampage in the Empire, and humans mobilize. Orcs stand out. Word spreads."
"I don't care!"
"Others will. You thick-skulled lot. Hear my plan instead."
Bellatel proposed tracking the dark elves covertly with magic.
"Magic traces their path. I can hide myself too. I'll find where they're from and headed."
"Hmph..."
"Then call you lot. We strike together—no survivors. Sound good?"
Karaku, cooling, saw the sense.
Orcs couldn't match dark elf speed.
And detection in the Empire risked human reprisal.
"True, those shadow-cursed elves slip like phantoms. We're not."
"Exactly. I'll scout fully. Sharpen blades meanwhile."
Owen, aside, pondered deeply.
These dark elves seemed from the capital.
This many? Likely mercenaries in imperial service.
One key question remained.
Who summoned them?
Depending on their destination, massive turmoil could erupt in the east.
Came for the mage, got dragged into this mess...
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41856/16549824109374.jpg
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41856/16549824109381.jpg