10 The Future

It was a stormy afternoon, dark clouds covering the sky as lightning flashed and furious, howling winds whipped a lone carriage, scuttling along a poorly constructed country road. The huge, rain-filled potholes —which were expertly avoided— and the streams of water, running down the edge of the roof, did not make the coachman's job any easier

Inside the well-equipped vehicle sat Teo, immersed in his thoughts, as he traveled towards the harbor city of Sigella with his paternal grandfather. Teo's relatives really did get in touch with him around a week after his father had sent the letter back then, they just had not expected to get a carriage as an answer instead of a letter.

His 'grandfather' was a rather bulky, but tall and well-built man in his fifties, a few streaks of grey already visible between his chestnut-brown hair. He did not make a particularly bad impression, but he appeared well versed in using his blue hawk-eyes to glare at people for extended amounts of time, making one wonder if his brows were stuck in this position, unable to be moved any longer.

He did, however, show some real concern for Teo during their Journey, making him think that he was not as unapproachable as he appeared.

Sigella was actually not that far from Ritark, only distanced around three days of travel to the south —at least in a carriage or on horseback, traveling by foot was a completely different story. However, Teo was still unaccustomed to spend so much time on the road, giving him a strange feeling, even when his distant family did not spare any expenses while preparing his escort.

Teo had taken a lot of time to properly say goodbye to his friends and family back in Ritark. Half of the village had gathered to see him off that day; even Mr. Atkins lay aside his work to mingle with the villagers, which was a supremely rare sight to behold.

He did not know who told everyone about his departure, but he was glad he had the chance to say goodbye as it would probably be a long time before he would see them all again.

This was his second day in the carriage, and Teo was very bored. With the lousy weather ever since this morning, he could not even go outside for a short walk and just continued to stare holes into the air. At first, he had spent a lot of time talking to his grandfather, mostly about what awaited him, but the man was not very talkative, and Teo grew tired of asking.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click www.webnovel.com for visiting.

He was currently the only one in the family with the "Ancestors' Gift" —what they called the Affinity for Arcane Magic— besides the current family head, his granduncle Thoralv Grassdown, which made him a very valuable pawn in the game of family politics.

From the anecdotes his grandfather had told, it seemed like the bloodline of the Grassdown lineage was rather thin, because only every 2nd or 3rd Generation would see the rise of a new Arcane, most of the time barely even possessing a Low-Rank Mana Affinity.

It seemed, like Teo's Intermediate Rank Mana Affinity was not so simple after all, and he would be accepted into the household with open arms for it.

The Grassdown clan was neither very large nor powerful, only possessing enough land and capital to be called considerably wealthy, but far from the true behemoths of the county, not even considering the large families residing near the capital.

Though the fortune, they had accumulated over the centuries, still allowed most of its members to lead relatively worry-free lives near the family domicile, a century-old villa, where the most crucial family members resided.

Before Teo had even heard about its existence for the first time, he had already been accepted into Saint Joujack's Magic School, the only one of its kind in Sigella, where he would learn everything about culture, history, calculus and hopefully Magic. He would also step into his granduncle's footprints and learn the art of Enchantment from him...

Everything had already been decided before he even got to talk to anyone about it.

Teo was not exactly sure, what he should think about this, but what he felt was an unsettling strained feeling in his gut and a lot of pressure.

He knew neither, if he could rise to all the expectations saddled onto him, nor if he wanted to, but he would find out soon enough.

___________________________

Edgar sat motionless in his favorite armchair and looked outside the large, uncurtained window of his living quarters, observing the torrential rainfalls that accompanied today's thunderstorm.

In his hand he held an unusually exquisite porcelain cup, containing a black, steaming liquid, from which he periodically sipped.

'Coffee', that was how this drink was called. It was quite rare around here since it could only be cultivated in the lushly overgrown jungles of Kalar's south, and he especially had to import it from almost the other side of the Continent for an astronomical price. But he quite enjoyed its deep, aromatic taste and had started to prefer it over tea after first trying it, saving his stash for the most precious moments to savor it.

'A bitter drink, for a bitter man,' he thought self-mockingly while staring at nothing in particular.

He wanted to deny it, but he had gotten attached to the boy after all. His talent was mediocre, but his hard-working attitude and sharp mind were just the right tools for studying Magic, allowing him to progress faster and farther than Edgar had speculated.

He never spoke it out loud, but Teo could almost keep up with the prodigious expectations he himself grew up with and came to demand from others as well. For the short time that he was able to teach him, the boy had achieved far more than a mere child his age possessing mediocre talent should be able to.

Teo did not remind him of his younger self or something moronic like that; he simply discovered that he did not dislike, sharing his knowledge with the younger generations. At the very least, the boy did not judge him and was extremely grateful for every morsel of wisdom he threw at him.

Maybe he should have accepted the offer from his old mentor, after all, to stay as a lab assistant or become a teacher for a Magic School after his graduation from the Academy. Yet he was far too ambitious and blinded by his greed to realize his limitations and to accept his fate while he still had the chance.

Who would have expected, that he would accept a "student", and would honestly teach him up to the limitations of his competence after all these years of being ostracized and living in isolation, banished by his academic brethren? Even going as far as tipping off the village chief about the boy's approaching departure, so that he could organize a proper farewell...

He did grow softer with age, completely shedding his old moniker: "Edgar the Annihilator."

"Well, who cares? At least the coffee is good," he said as he sunk deeper into the gentle embrace of his armchair and relaxed, taking another long sip from his cup while listening to the occasional crackling of the nearby fireplace.

_________________________

"Dang!"

"Dang!"

"Dang!"

Hammering echoed through the catacombic cellars of the mansion, reverberating along the gray walls and pillars, where long shadows danced like demonic silhouettes.

A dwarfish elder, whose polished scalp created a deep contrast to his impressively lush, grey beard, could be seen torturing a lone lump of red-hot iron upon a vast anvil.

His exposed and muscular upper body glistened with fresh sweat in the red glow of his forge, while a pair of small, pointed goggles protected his eyes from the sparks, which flew around like fireflies.

Contrary to his brutish appearance, this was Sigella's most accomplished Enchanter, famous for his magnificently detailed and exquisite works: Thoralv Grassdown.

What he was doing right now was not his work though, smithing was but a hobby of his. He liked to shape new things with his very own hands and sincerely appreciated the balance between physical and mental strain both his crafts provided aplenty.

Thoralv especially loved to enchant tools which he had forged himself. Seeing a powerful Artifact, which he had formed from nothing more than a lump of metal and some gemstones, was always something extraordinary.

He always took to his forge when he needed to think, when he needed to clear his head, to concentrate. The hard physical labor would always get his mind back on track as the rhythmic smashing of the hammer in his hand would slowly loosen all the tangled thoughts that haunted him.

This family lay in his hands for over thirty years now, and he had done what he could to build it up and retake their bygone glory slowly, step by step. One of his biggest worries had been the question of his successor though, as none of the youngest generations seemed talented enough —or talented at all, in any aspect, to be more exact.

This suddenly changed, with the arrival of an unexpected letter around five days ago. It was from Rainert, Troy's eldest, who he had already labeled as hopeless, many years ago.

Without any prior indication, he was delivered, what he needed most, precisely when he needed it most:

A promising and talented youth possessing the Ancestors' Gift to whom he could entrust the following generations.

It felt almost like a practical joke or a cruel whim of fate, trying to give him hope, just to nip it in the bud, leaving him heartbroken and despaired. He would not be able to take the sudden shock with his advanced age; he would only believe it, the moment he laid eyes on the boy himself.