Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 441

"I met my brother," Rhea said. And contrary to the joy he knew such a thing should bring her, she seemed tired and withdrawn.

Ah, so he's the one dabbling in the darker arts. That makes more sense than Rhea herself doing it, since Ogden would have quickly stopped any such foolishness. And since her brother didn't have the protection of a dragon during the purge of their house, he would have had much more reason to reach into the forbidden in his quest for revenge.

"He's here, isn't he?" he asked quietly.

Rhea nodded, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. "He arrived a few weeks ago and camped out in the wilds for a while, but the other day I managed to convince him to rent a room in the southern district."

Though she didn't reveal why he chose the furthest place from her home, Nick understood the logic right away.

Prelate Marthas and the Temple of Sashara dominated the northwest, and the divine domain easily spread through the nearby neighborhoods. Ogden's alchemy shop was tucked away in the northeast, and anyone living next to him would be subject to his knowing gaze.

By taking up residence in the south, her brother was deliberately distancing himself from the two entities in town most likely to detect the mark of cursed magic.

"Well then, take me to him," Nick said. Had this been anyone else, he would have questioned her reasons for involving anyone else in their quest, given its dangers, but her brother was the only other person with a right to participate, even if it cost his life.

Even at dusk, the streets of Floria were bustling. Workers came back from the logging camps, shopkeepers closed up their stalls for the night, and taverns started to spill warm light and lively laughter onto the cobblestones.

As they moved away from the wealthy center and the busy eastern markets, the paved roads turned into packed dirt. The southern district was the most rural part of Floria, almost untouched by the recent influx of capital because its main activity was farming. The buildings here were weathered, their wooden facades faded from years of rain and wind.

Rhea was doing her best to project an air of complete calm, but Nick's senses easily picked up the faint fluttering of her aura. She was very nervous about this meeting.

"He isn't the same brother I told you about," she said softly, breaking the silence as they walked through a narrow alley. "The destruction of our family took a heavy toll on him, and he's been fighting for a long time on his own."

"I won't judge him," Nick assured her, keeping his tone even. "We all do what we have to do to survive."

They stopped in front of one of the rare buildings that had been renovated, transforming from an old farmhouse into a cheap-looking inn called the Swaying Lantern, which obviously served new laborers who hadn't found a place elsewhere.

The common room downstairs was quiet, filled with a few tired farmers drinking cheap ale. Rhea went past the bar altogether, leading Nick up a creaky wooden staircase to the second floor. She stopped at the last door on the left and knocked in an uneven pattern.

A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal a man whose features closely resembled Rhea's, though his face was lined with tension.

Gaelen wore a dark leather armor that showed signs of recent, expert repair. A longsword rested against the wall near the bed, and several strange trinkets hung from his belt, each radiating a faint chill.

His eyes, a dark amber similar to his sister's, locked onto Nick with immediate scrutiny.

"Gaelen," Rhea said as she stepped into the room. "This is Nick, the friend I told you about."

Gaelen didn't offer a handshake as was common, but he stepped back to let Nick in before closing and locking the door behind them. While not warm, it wasn't a rejection.

The room was sparse, with just a bed, a washbasin, and a small table covered in hand-drawn maps of the northern territories.

"You're younger than I expected, considering all the tall tales Rhea told me about you," he noted with a curt edge.

Nick, however, was able to read his emotions and understood it wasn't an insult, but just an observation.

He's lost any desire for polite conversation. Well, I don't really care. Noble-speak was never my thing.

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"Magic and power rarely care about age," Nick replied smoothly, offering a polite nod. "It's good to finally meet you. Rhea has told me a lot about you."

Of course, she had told him stories about her warm and loving brother, the one who'd pick her up when she fell and comfort her when she was sad, not this shell of a man. But unlike Gaelen, he hadn't forgotten his manners, so he kept that part quiet.

As he spoke, Nick gently inspected the other's aura. The insight gained was highly revealing and confirmed his earlier assessment.

Gaelen's mana coils and body were strong, showing advanced martial and magical skills. However, dark, oily stains blemished the outer edges of his soul space.

It was the unmistakable mark of cursed objects and forbidden arts, something no mortal could resist over time. The corruption hadn't yet reached his core—he was still fully operational and extremely dangerous—but it was slowly infiltrating his emotional spectrum.

Nick recognized the signs from his past life.

On Earth, it wasn't uncommon for a mage to regularly use such objects, since they often lacked their own mana, but eventually, it wore down their patience, increased their paranoia, and diminished their natural empathy, until they became a shell of their former selves.

The terseness in Gaelen's voice and the stiff tension in his shoulders were early signs of his soul adjusting to cursed mana. He hadn't lost control yet, thanks to the robustness of his coils, but the process was ongoing.

It was a troubling development, a ticking clock that would eventually require intervention, but it wasn't something Nick could address during an introductory meeting. Bringing it up now would only put the man on the defensive, maybe even make him aggressive.

"Let's dispense with pleasantries," Gaelen grunted, crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden wall. "House Ultimer is deeply entrenched and growing stronger with each passing day. Rhea and I found three camps made up of their deserters in the past weeks, but they all report that the enemy's power is only increasing."

"I'm sure taking in some new mercenaries to replenish their losses isn't a problem for someone with such deep pockets," Nick observed, moving to inspect the maps on the table without touching them. The parchment was covered in red ink, detailing patrol routes and fortress locations, and was more detailed than he'd have expected. "Still, even they aren't a kingdom unto themselves, meaning long logistical chains. That should be our first target, as the weakest link, and it will have the benefit of granting us more insight before we move north."

Gaelen raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through his guarded exterior. "That was my thinking. For all that I would love to strike Toneburg now, it'd be a total loss. But if we weaken them first, forcing their elite guards to divert to protect the caravans, the estate could become vulnerable."

Nick nodded, making a deliberate effort to engage strictly on tactical grounds, even if all this talk was far too premature. "We can use that. I have contacts in Alluria tracking their supply contracts. Once we have a timeline, we can coordinate our strikes to maximize the disruption."

They spent the next hour discussing northern geography, troop movements, and what little they knew about the political landscape surrounding House Ultimer.

Nick made sure to ask pointed, relevant questions, showing his competence without trying to overshadow Gaelen's firsthand experience. By the time the conversation ended, the stiff tension in Gaelen's body had eased slightly.

"You know your business," Gaelen finally conceded, pushing away from the wall. "Rhea said you would be useful, and I doubted it at first, but now I'm inclined to agree."

"We have the same goal," Nick replied evenly. "Well, I should head back home and get some rest. We have plenty of planning left to do in the coming days, and it's not wise to do it while tired."

After bidding them a good night, Nick left Rhea to talk with her brother. He descended the creaking stairs and stepped back out into the cool evening air, taking a moment to enjoy it before moving on.

As he headed back north, Nick reflected on Gaelen's condition. The dark stains on the man's soul were a delicate problem to handle.

I could probably handle much of that myself, but that would require him to open up his soul to me.

He shook his head with a snort. Yeah, it was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

Still, I should try to earn his trust on the field. If he believes I genuinely share his goals, I might be able to manipulate him into letting me eliminate any 'weakness' that prevents him from achieving his vengeance.

It wasn't the most honest method, but one conversation with the man was enough to show him that neither Gaelen nor Rhea could see things clearly. It would be up to him to stay level-headed, even if that role didn't quite fit him.

For now, though, he needed a different kind of advice. He changed his route, avoiding Crowley Manor and heading toward the northeastern edge of the commercial district.

This place hadn't been spared the sudden growth spurt Floria experienced, but while the other districts saw buildings spring up like weeds, here it was more of a renovation spree, with only a few new structures built.

Nick wondered whether that was entirely natural or if the old grump he was here to visit had something to do with it.

Eventually, he reached the only building that seemed untouched by time. It was as unremarkable as he remembered, with a sagging, sloped roof and a broken fence with missing planks that barely enclosed the wild garden filled with haphazardly growing magical plants.

The light remained on, so he pushed the door open, and the bell above the frame chimed with a clear tone.

The inside of the shop was, if possible, even more of a chaotic mess than he remembered.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with glass vials, dried bunches of rare herbs, jars of pickled monster parts, and ancient, leather-bound books. Dozens of sealed boxes were piled up haphazardly, likely containing ingredients too dangerous to leave out in the open.

Ogden stood behind the counter, grinding a dried root in a stone mortar. He looked exactly the same as the day Nick left, with graying hair, a perpetually grumpy expression, and simple robes, despite being among the most powerful beings in the kingdom.

"It's late," Ogden grumbled without looking up from his mortar. "If you need healing, go bother the priests."

"Even for returning customers?" Nick asked, stepping further into the shop.

Ogden paused his grinding and slowly lifted his head, his eyes catching the lamplight. For a split second, his pupils narrowed into vertical, reptilian slits.

Suddenly, the air in the shop became unbelievably heavy, choking out the ether and making Nick feel as if he were back on the seventy-seventh floor, watching the Archmages duke it out.

An invasive, searching aura enveloped him, piercing his defenses and directly observing his soul.

The fact that Ogden hadn't recognized him from afar told Nick that his own signature had changed a lot, and considering everything he'd done, that wasn't surprising.

Thus, he suppressed his instinct to defend himself and let his soul respond naturally. The geode structure thrummed, its crystalline facets reflecting the invasive probe.

The crushing weight disappeared just as fast as it had come. The air settled back to normal, and the old man behind the counter grunted, refocusing on the mortar.

"Good," Ogden muttered, his tone reverting to its usual gruffness. "You didn't bring any abyssal rot into my shop. I heard about the foolishness in Alluria; idiots playing with matches in a powder keg."

"I made sure to wash my hands before coming home," Nick replied, offering a faint smile as he approached the counter.