The Novel's Sidekick

Q: At least how many ancient Ward left in the Realm?

A: No more than 400.

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Starlight City was quite large, but it did not have the cramped building design of my old world. Over a couple million people reside in the city, which does not make it crowded in the slightest, but the periphery of the academy was always a place over-occupied all day.

The sun was on the north horizon, illuminating my face as I walked down the path with its usual reddish-golden glow. I ignored the young students coming back from missions; the ones arguing over the charge of horses, a few on their bicycles.

A couple of horse waggons creaked along the path all the time—there was never a shortage of people of wealth in this city, nor was it of peasants.

Vendors pitched their sales with overly superficial discounts in rows on the sidewalk. There were mostly vegetables, fish, meats, and some every-day items. I needed none of these for today, so I decided to stride away, as the market would be packed in no time.

Today’s main agenda is going to the Guild. I need to meet up with a gentleman there to discuss some business. Essentially, this will have an impact on the future of the realm and could also make me filthy rich.

The Guild is one of the other biggest organisations on the mainland, along with the academy. It was actually an alliance of many crafters, alchemists, artisans, jewellers, scholars, and seekers. With the growing pressure from the Empire, these creative individuals thought they needed to do something, and in the end, they came up with the Guild, which in the end, made it easier for the Empire to keep the tabs on as well as to govern.

For today, my goal is to meet a brilliant scholar to discuss the invention of something this world lacks, as well as other things that I am not that knowledgeable about.

The book was great in its description, but I can’t get all the information from there. I need to understand the market, its rules and regulations, what can be allowed and what will not.

Guns, for example. Yes, this world has guns, and Ruthalyn has some improvised ones that could hurt a spirit practitioner badly if used well. Sadly, the empire lacks that technology and those guns could not be smuggled outrageously. So there are strict laws on gun production and even anything related to new production or trade.

The person I am going to meet today is not a magus or even a spirit practitioner, but his inventions will change the future of the realm to some extent. But before he could get to create that big pie, he will have huge restrictions on his path. What I wanted to do was make it a bit easier for him so that I can some portion of the pie.

"Hey, young master," a gruff voice called out abruptly as I looked at my sides. I gave the speaker a questioning look as he continued. "Yes, yes, you, young master."

The one that called out to me was actually a weary man, way past his prime. A thin, scrawny old man with white whiskers. Old age had turned all the hair white, but a good portion of it still remains.

The old man appeared to be selling his wares, but unlike others who were on a stand or trolley, he was on the ground on a thick, dirty blanket. Commodities such as small vials of potions or medicinal soup, various ingredients, such as dry leaves, roots, bones and even some hair, were tossed around on the blanket clumsily. What caught my attention was a fancy-looking inkwell in silver, as well as the brushes next to it.

The old man was rocking back and forth on his sitting previously, but sat upright, finding me.

"Young master." the old man called out again, satisfied that he had ignited my interest. "You are in luck, as I have not sold it yet."

“Sold what?” I asked, confusingly.

The old man looked around, finding everyone was minding their business. He put his left palm into his robes to bring out a small vial containing red liquid inside it. He presented it to me with a proud smile on his lips, as if presenting some ambrosia.

"What is this?" I said with a slight frown, while taking the small vial and examining it. Well, it could be everything from some flavoured wine to some alchemic potion of sorts.

“This is the legendary love potion!” the old man announced proudly, “and of the best quality, too.”

“What?” I was flabbergasted. “Really?” I checked the tiny vial again. So this is the thing that makes every teenager hysterical.

"Yes, young master. You can put trust in old Adrin's reputation on this!" the old man said with a hearty laugh, puffing his own chest.

That name did not ring any bells in my mind and I would be damned to put anything in it, considering the vial I am holding is anything but legal. “You know, you can be put to prison if someone finds out you are selling this?” I said, “even I may be pulled into questions just holding it.”

“Not at all, young master,” old man, Adrin said incredulously. “This is not what you think it is.”

“So, this is not a love potion?”

"It is." Adrin frowned, shuffling back and forth in his sitting. "It is a love potion, but not that kind. You can put this old Adrin’s reputation on it."

“So, it is a love potion,” I asked, amused, “but not really?”

The old man seemed in jeopardy after hearing that. He cleared his throat by coughing and staring me in the eyes.

"It is what you think it is," he said, "But something more."

“That’s what they all say.” I snorted and tossed back the supposedly love potion.

"Young master," Adrin called as his voice turned rather painful, as if someone was standing on his foot. "You are missing a big time."

"Thank you very much, but I don’t think I will ever need it in my life."

Probably.

I was about to leave when the old man actually strangled my legs, pleading me to buy that potion like it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I should have thought right. This isn’t just an old man, but he's somewhat crazy too!

"Hey, let go!" I called, not using all of my strength for fear of injuring this frail old man." Or I’ll call the enforcers right—"

“Young master, take it!” old Adrin begged. “You can really put old Adrin’s reputation in it.”

"You will go to prison with your reputation for all I care. Just let go of my leg." This was really turning into a scene and would likely get others' attention. Whom am I kidding? This was a busy marketplace.

“Hey, what’s happening here?” a voice shouted, and I found two men in their enforcer attire approaching.

“Enforcers.” I announced, “Old man, let go now.”

Before I could even finish my phrase, the old man let go. Moving swiftly like a hurricane, he collected his blanket roughly with all its contents before making a rush.

And man, he could run. He did not look all that weak in that dash and it appeared that old Adrid must really have had some reputation for this kind of act.

One of the enforcers pursued the old man, while the other jogged beside to question me. I came clean, mentioning he was trying to sell me some weird potion that may or may not be real. The enforcer did not seem all that surprised by the issue.

After a few regular questions, he released me, stating that I should come to the enforcer’s office if I see something like this again.

“That was one weird encounter," I muttered, giving the marketplace another look. After the scene, it resumed its usual business and cacophony.

By the time I reached the Guild, the sun already sat and Pra'moon was already in the sky.

The public building for The Guild was not anything outrageous like the academy, but it had its reputation. It was a wide building, plastered white like any other. With a vast garden that tells stories of its wealth, it led to an entrance that opened into a wide reception. Dozens of people were busy at work in the several counters of distinct divisions of the guild.

Wasting no time, I walked on the polished marble as the luminescent stones on the ceiling lit up one after another. I checked each of the counters: Alchemy, Craft, Jewels, Artificing, and finally, Science.

Giving the other another look, I moved to the counter with the entitles with a big sign of Science above it.

Unlike the counters for Alchemy, Crafting, or Jewels, this one was empty with an old man drowsing off.

Good thing there was a bell there. Without considering the well-being of the old man, I rang the bell, as the old man was wide awake. This one was really old, far older than the Old Adrin I just met.

The receptionist coughed a couple of times and put on his glasses that were hanging on his neck to look at me. I don’t know if he could even see me clearly.

"How can I help you?" the old man asked with a voice that was weary and slow, as if something was stuck in his throat.

"Good evening." I said. "I wanted to meet with the Great scholar Grivin."

The old man shuffled through his thick book once and then looked at me blankly, as if he did not understand.

Great. "I want to meet the Great Scholar Grivin?" I repeated, a bit louder.

“Great Scholar Grivin?” the old man repeated the book. “I am sorry, but that is not possible.”

“What?” I frowned. “Just tell him, Prince of the state of Emberheart wants to meet him.”

The old man only shook his head. “Scholar Grivin is no more.” he said, sighing.

“What?” I asked with a start. “How?”

Scholar Grivin was supposed to be one of the big-name scientists whose work will help provide another source of energy to the world, but now I hear he's dead. Really, something really must be wrong.

"It happened a couple months ago," the receptionist said. "Scholar Grivin was one of the best of us. It was really an unfortunate event."

“How did this happen?”

"Suicide." the old man sighed. "We heard there was too much pressure on him with the research he was doing. and at last he could not take it anymore . . . hanged himself. Really unfortunate. At only the age of 58, he could have contributed so more . . ."

"It is really unfortunate." I agreed. "Now what will be even more unfortunate will be if his work, his lifeblood, is lost with his death."

"Fortunately, it is not. Grivin has a son, just as brilliant as him. Though he’s young, he has the ambition to see it through." The old man’s voice trailed off as if he was not convinced by little Grivin.

I conversed with him for another couple of minutes, taking in information about Little Grivin, who turned out to be at the Starlight Academy as well. I guess I will have to deal with him then.

This incident is undoubtedly something big. The world is going off tracks of the book. Scholar Grivin was supposed to suffer a lot in order to get funding and get his papers approved after half-dozen times, but never to the extent of suicide. I need to check out the whole matter later.

Strange, very strange. It seems like an investigation into the details of his death is necessary. . .

Sighing, I got out of the guild, nudging my palms into my pockets, ready to leave for the academy.

There was something inside my left pocket. I took it out to find it was a small vial containing red liquid.

“What the . . .”

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Edited by Mysteries. Proofread by kqwxz.

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