Chapter 93: Chapter 93 - Third prince Gilbert
In the Jul Empire, power wasn't exclusively in the hands of ascendants. There was another group whose influence rivaled that of the most powerful nobles—alchemists.
These highly skilled individuals mastered the ability to craft potent pills and elixirs, capable of performing miracles. Their concoctions could heal the gravely injured, awaken latent powers in ordinary people, and alter the tide of battles.
The work of alchemists was invaluable, especially in times of war, where a single pill could be the deciding factor between triumph and defeat. Of course, not everyone could afford them.
For those aspiring to join the ranks of these revered alchemists, there existed the alchemist association.
The Alchemist Association was a powerful organization with a widespread network of branches across the empire. Its influence was so vast that it rivaled even the authority of dukes and marquises.
However, becoming an alchemist was not for the faint of heart. It required years of rigorous training, an unwavering dedication to the craft, and the ability to pass grueling tests administered by the association itself.
Only a select few had the talent and tenacity to earn the coveted title of alchemist, and those who did were rewarded with both immense power and respect.
Today was one of those days.
The Alchemist Association was strategically located, surrounded by a dense forest, far from the noise and distractions of the bustling city. The association had been granted a vast plot of land by the emperor himself, ensuring their seclusion and peace.
Many hopefuls traveled from the city, and beyond, to participate in the test, eager to prove themselves worthy of the title of alchemist.
Within the large compound of the association, figures could be seen standing before cauldrons, their faces etched with concentration. The air was thick with the scent of various herbs and the sound of bubbling mixtures. Each of the participants focused intently, knowing that their future depended on the success of the concoction they were brewing.
As the test drew to a close, the results were recorded. A few White-attired figures moved swiftly through the crowd, collecting the final products and marking the names of those who had participated.
Once the results were compiled, a single man, his expression stoic, was tasked with delivering the report.
He made his way through the corridors of the association building, ascending to the top floor where the most important figures resided. After reaching a door at the end of the hall, he knocked firmly.
"Enter," came a voice from within, commanding yet calm.
The man pushed the door open and stepped into the room. It was spacious, with shelves lined with ancient tomes and jars filled with rare ingredients.
At the center, seated behind a wooden desk, was a golden-haired man whose presence exuded authority. This was no ordinary alchemist—this was the current head of the Alchemist Association, Dwight Reynold.
Reynold looked up from the documents he was examining, his sharp eyes locking onto the attendant. "How many passed?"
The attendant hesitated for a moment before responding. "All failed."
"That's a shame." Reynold's expression remained unreadable.
"Lord Reynold," the attendant began cautiously, "I think we should consider lowering the requirements. The tests are… perhaps too tough."
"Lower the requirements?" he mused, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "The path of an alchemist is not one for the weak. If they cannot meet the standards, they are not worthy of the title."
The attendant nodded, though his expression was tinged with concern. "Of course, Lord Reynold. I understand."
As the attendant left, closing the door quietly behind him, Reynold's gaze lingered on the view outside.
The vast forest and the distant city created a picture of serene isolation, but his thoughts were far from peaceful. A faint smile played on his lips, a mixture of satisfaction and something darker.
Just as he was about to resume his paperwork, a silhouette appeared beside him. The figure, cloaked in shadows, exuded an air of both power and secrecy.
"Lord, we've traced his location as you instructed," the silhouette's voice whispered, barely disturbing the stillness of the room.
Reynold turned his head slightly, his expression remaining impassive but his curiosity piqued. "Oh? Tell me."
"We discovered that he is the third prince, Gilbert," the silhouette revealed, the shadows around him swirling with significance. "And all the clues led to him."
Reynold's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.
"The third prince…who would have thought that such a 'waste' could possess such power?" His eyes glinted with faint amusement.
In the imperial capital of the Jul Empire, Gilbert was known as the shame of the imperial family, a prince deemed untalented and discarded by his own father, the emperor.
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Reynold had not expected Gilbert to be the dark figure he had been meeting in secret. This revelation was both unexpected and intriguing.
"Lord, should we strike him?" the silhouette asked, his voice betraying a hint of eagerness.
"No. There would be significant consequences for killing a prince. Besides, I'm also interested in the dark lord he mentioned." Reynold's gaze grew colder. "For now, observe him in secret. Gather more information."
"As you wish," the silhouette nodded, and with a swirl of shadow, he vanished from the room.
A moment after the silhouette had disappeared, another attendant entered, his expression urgent and concerned. "My lord, there is news from Dwight State, your homeland."
Reynold's eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity now piqued. "What news?"
The attendant hesitated, then continued, "It concerns your younger brother, lord Spark.
"What about my brother?" asked Reynold.
"Word has arrived that Lord Spark has a daughter." Revealed the attendant.Nôv(el)B\\jnn
For a brief moment, Reynold was stunned into silence. His usually composed demeanor faltered as he absorbed the unexpected revelation. His mind raced to process the information—Spark had a daughter?
Reynold's controlled mask slipped briefly, revealing a glimpse of the turmoil beneath his stoic exterior. He quickly regained his composure, his voice cool and authoritative as he addressed the attendant.
"I will leave the association to you," Reynold said, his tone regaining its usual calm authority. "I must return home."