Chapter Two: The Pursuit

When Old Brown returned to the small courtyard, Andy was practicing swordplay with a calm expression. White’s death had filled him with a sense of crisis. Because the aftereffects of his transmigration hadn’t yet faded, he still couldn’t settle down to organize and study sorcery. Desperate to grow stronger, he began to reacquaint himself with the swordsmanship that lingered in this body’s memory.

Unlike his dismal talent for sorcery, this body’s aptitude for swordsmanship was outstanding. With the family’s secret breathing technique, Andy was only a step away from breaking through to the rank of knight. Even among the royal family or great noble houses, a sixteen-year-old near-knight would be considered a remarkable prodigy.

Unfortunately, this was a world ruled by sorcery. Even great knights, whose prowess surpassed ordinary knights, fell short compared to sorcerers in terms of combat ability. As Andy practiced, he carefully sensed the condition of his body. Drawing on the previous owner’s experience, he could feel that within a month, he would surely become a knight. At that time, he would finally be able to use some of the family’s signature sword techniques, and his combat strength would soar.

“Young master, why are you up and about? Didn’t I tell you to rest properly? I heard from Kelly that last time, when Elena suffered a backlash from mental energy, she was bedridden for three months before recovering. You’ve only been in bed three days!” Old Brown’s words interrupted Andy’s thoughts. Seeing the old man about to step forward and snatch away his sword, Andy had no choice but to stop his practice.

“You’re back, Grandpa Brown,” Andy greeted him.

“Heh, how could I deserve such a title from you, young master? Just call me Old Brown.” The old man beamed. “I just sent word to the Sorcerer’s Tower that you’ve awakened. Sorcerer Stein said to come see him once you’re able to get out of bed.”

Andy knew that Stein was the only official sorcerer in the Collin Barony, and the Sorcerer’s Tower belonged to him. “I see. By the way, Grandpa Brown, there’s something I want to ask you.” Andy fixed his gaze on the old man, seemingly casual as he spoke. “Three days ago, the calming potion I used in the meditation room—you made it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. What’s wrong, young master?”

“There was a problem with the potion.”

“What?” Old Brown looked anxious and guilty. “Did I not brew it properly? Is that why you failed your advancement? I…I…” He stammered, unable to finish his sentence.

“That’s not it!” Andy caught every detail of his expression and smiled nonchalantly. “The failure was mostly because I wasn’t well enough prepared. Plenty of people manage to advance to apprentice sorcerers without calming potion at all.”

“But,” he changed his tone, “this last batch of potion—wasn’t the calming herb a bit too young? It didn’t feel as effective as before. Did you notice anything different when you brewed it?”

“Let me think… Oh, yes, actually. Normally, I use the three-leaf kind, but this time the one I got had four leaves. The leaves looked the same otherwise, and the girl who gave it to me even said the extra leaf made the medicine better. Turns out, young folks talk big but don’t know much.”

“Uh…young master, I wasn’t talking about you,” Old Brown added when he saw Andy’s lack of reaction.

Andy searched his fused memories and quickly recalled a record he’d once seen in the Sorcerer’s Tower library:

Soul-Eater Grass: a mutated form of the Calming Herb, highly toxic to mental energy. The plant has four leaves, and is almost identical to the Calming Herb in appearance. Reportedly, Soul-Eater Grass is extremely rare, a main ingredient in certain high-level sorcerer potions. It’s usually found only in the wild, where it mutates from Calming Herb under very specific conditions—once mutated, it rapidly absorbs all nutrients from nearby Calming Herbs and other plants, leaving nothing but bare earth within ten paces. Soul-Eater Grass is often accompanied by a deadly beast known as the Shara Serpent, making it extremely difficult to harvest.

The Calming Herb used in the Sorcerer’s Tower, however, was all cultivated in the greenhouse by Sorcerer Stein and his apprentices—there was no way Soul-Eater Grass could have appeared there by accident. There was no chance that anyone working in the tower could have mistaken Soul-Eater Grass for Calming Herb. And yet, at the critical moment of his advancement, Old Brown had been given Soul-Eater Grass, worth a thousand times more than Calming Herb. It could only be a deliberate plot!

Despite his racing thoughts, Andy caught Old Brown’s words. “What girl are you talking about? Don’t we always get our calming herb from Head Maid Kelly?”

“She was called home by her husband that day, so a young girl filled in for her. Her name was…Sarah, or maybe Lolly?”

“Was it Sally?” Andy pressed.

“Yes! Sally, that’s it. I’ll have to give her a good talking-to next time—pretending to know things she doesn’t, that’s just dangerous.”

“Pretending to know—perhaps not,” Andy thought to himself.

Just then, Old Brown was distracted by a new mound of earth in the courtyard. “What’s this? Where did this little mound come from? Did you make the wreath on top, young master?”

“It’s for White.”

“What!? What happened to White?”

“He’s dead.”

“….” Old Brown searched the courtyard as if hoping White would leap out from some corner and startle him, but after a long while, the yard remained quiet.

“He was just fine when I left this morning… How could he be gone?” Old Brown’s eyes were unfocused.

“How long did we have him?” Andy steadied the old man, who had slumped at the news.

“Eight years. The old master and mistress were still alive—she brought him home, he was just the size of a mouse. Then the old master went off to war, and never came back.” Old Brown pulled Andy into a tight embrace, choked with emotion. “After that, the mistress left too—then it was just the three of us, depending on each other. White was still playing around my feet this morning… How could he be gone?”

“He was old,” Andy said softly. “Dogs aren’t like people. Their average lifespan is barely more than ten years, and not every dog makes it that long. People grow old and die, dogs are the same.”

“Yes, old. He was old, and I’m old too.” Old Brown released Andy and carefully sat in front of White’s grave. His voice was heavy. “Thirty years ago, I fled here from the Duchy of Seine with my whole family—there were seven of us, and in the end, I was the only one left. If not for the old master, I’d have been taken as a spy and beaten to death.”

“The old master was a good man. Back in Dallas City, countless people benefited from his generosity. He was so clever, such a good businessman, sociable and wise. But he lacked talent for war, and with no strength to protect himself, most of his fortune was taken by jealous nobles under the pretense of funding the kingdom’s wars. In the end, he returned to the countryside and died in obscurity.”

“The young master had just come of age then. He threw himself into sword training, hoping to become a knight, win glory in battle, and earn a title. He succeeded, but lost his life. Then the mistress followed him.”

“Before she died, the mistress made me promise to take care of you, not to let your aunt bully you. She didn’t ask for you to become a great sorcerer or a mighty knight—just to marry a good girl and carry on the Charles family line.”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa Brown. I’ll become a sorcerer, a knight, and find a good girl—all of that will happen.” Andy’s tone brimmed with confidence. “By the way, you said Sorcerer Stein wanted to see me? There’s still time before sunset—I’ll go to the tower.”

With that, Andy went inside, changed out of his practice clothes into a black apprentice’s robe, and after saying goodbye to Old Brown, set off for the tallest building in Dallas City: Stein’s Sorcerer’s Tower.

As he walked, Andy mulled over his conversation with Old Brown. It turned out the old man was originally from the Duchy of Seine—something Andy had never heard before. The northern Duchy of Seine and the southern Kingdom of Elan were the two great powers of the Dolan Continent, their borders in constant friction, with occasional full-blown wars. Andy’s father had died in war against the Duchy of Seine. The Silverwing Fortress to the north of Collin Barony always hosted a legion of the Elan Kingdom’s army to guard against invasion.

Collin Barony, rich and fertile, bordered the Shadow Forest, and Dallas City was a key logistics base for Silverwing Fortress, holding great importance within the kingdom. As the city’s ruler, Viscount Collin was a capable administrator. The streets Andy passed were clean and orderly, the people ruddy and energetic, and the buildings well arranged.

Andy didn’t head straight for the Sorcerer’s Tower. Instead, he glanced around and ducked into a secluded alley. After making sure he was alone, he took a pencil and a notebook from his robe—once used by the previous Andy for reading notes. On this page, however, he had written more than a dozen names.

First, under the “Cause of Death” column, he wrote: “Almost certainly died from poisoning by Soul-Eater Grass decoction. Perpetrator unknown. Motive unknown.”

Then, under “Old John,” he noted: “Prepared the potion, provided key information. No sign of misleading the victim, statements credible, no apparent motive for poisoning. Overall suspicion: low.”

Under “Kelly,” he wrote: “Cannot rule out the possibility that she was informed or even the mastermind; also cannot rule out that her husband deliberately called her away to enable the crime. No personal grudge or conflict of interest with the victim.”

He added “Sally” in bold letters to the blank space: “Suspect. Very likely the direct perpetrator of the poisoning. No prior conflict or interest with the victim.”

Putting the notebook away, Andy muttered, “Just pawns, really. If not for this incident, they’d never have seen Soul-Eater Grass in their lives. Whoever obtained it and knew how to use it—that’s no ordinary person or group. Nobles, sorcerer apprentices, maybe even a sorcerer must be involved!”

As dusk deepened, Andy left the alley and headed toward the Sorcerer’s Tower. The tower stood tall in the setting sun, its rim glowing gold, solemn and resplendent—as though it would stand unshaken for all eternity.