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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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Chapter 142: The Elder of Magic, Geninghen
Across eras and nations, public perception of mages has rarely been favorable.
“Mages? Aren’t they just lunatics?”
“It’s not something a sane person would do.”
“They seem to lack social skills…”
“Most of them are just gloomy weirdos.”
“You went to a mage’s workshop? Are you out of your mind?”
“If you spot a mage on the battlefield, you have two options: kill them first or run for your life.”
There were several reasons for this.
Mages’ talents were rare, making it difficult to encounter one in person. And the rumors that spread about them tended to focus more on their eccentricities than their good deeds.
Moreover, reaching mastery in magic required locking oneself away in a tower or workshop for long periods, grinding away at their craft. It was almost inevitable that their mental state would become unstable or their personalities grow peculiar.
However, within the Grunewald Duchy, the story was slightly different. This was because much of the prejudice against mages here stemmed from the bizarre behavior of one man.
“G-G-Geninghen, sir!”
“Ah, yes. It’s me.”
Geninghen Grunewald, the Elder of Magic.
A prodigy born with the talent of a grand mage, said to appear once in a century, who had honed his abilities to their absolute peak.
A master of the magical arts who had produced three tower lords, a figure who had reached the 8th-tier long ago and whose current strength was beyond measure.
The guard standing before such a figure was drenched in cold sweat.
“Hehe, why so nervous? Did you see a monster or something?”
“M-my apologies!”
“I’m here to see the Duke, so lead the way.”
“Yes, sir!”
“By the way, you seem familiar.”
The guard straightened his posture like a rookie and replied, “Y-yes, sir. When I was still a trainee, you personally encouraged me.”
“Ah, was that you? My judgment hasn’t rusted after all. Look at you now, a guard protecting the Duke’s closest confidants.”
“Th-thank you. It’s all thanks to you, sir…”
“What did I do to deserve such credit?”
“My apologies!”
The guard, wary of being disrespectful, cautiously guided Geninghen.
This was only natural. Geninghen, alongside Leszek Grunewald, the Elder of the Sword, was one of the pillars symbolizing the martial prowess of Grunewald. He had long since become a legend.
“We’ve arrived.”
Upon reaching the Duke’s office, Geninghen patted the guard on the shoulder.
“Good work.”
“Yes, sir! It was an honor to serve you!”
Geninghen flicked his finger, and the heavy door swung open on its own.
“Duke! Are you here?”
Geninghen appeared as casually as an old man out for a stroll. Duke Georg, Head Butler Aiden, and Venion all rose from their seats simultaneously.
“Elder, you’ve arrived.”
Even Georg, the master of Grunewald, showed respect to the elder who had been a legendary figure since the previous generation.
“Hehe. It’s been a while, Duke.”
Geninghen’s appearance was mystifying, defying any guess at his age.
At first glance, he seemed to be in his 50s or 60s, but considering he had surpassed 100 years of age long ago, his vitality was nothing short of miraculous.
“Sorry for dropping in so suddenly during such an important time.”
“Not at all. Having the Elder of Grunewald grace our banquet is an honor for me.”
“Oh, is that so? I feel bad for the young ones who’ll have to endure this cranky old man’s ramblings.”
No one present lacked the self-control to keep from smiling at his pointed humor.
“You jest too much.”
“Hehe, I’m glad if that’s the case.”
Geninghen turned to Aiden with a smile.
“Aiden, my boy, it’s been a while.”
“It’s been a long time, sir.”
Once one joined the Council of Elders, they rarely interacted with the vassals or direct descendants of the clan.
This was especially true for Geninghen, who, despite his age, remained holed up in his workshop, researching obscure magics or deciphering ancient texts and spellbooks brought by foreign merchants.
“It feels like just yesterday you were a green rookie. When did you become this white-haired old man?”
“Time flies faster than anything else.”
“Indeed, it does.”
“But you, Elder, remain as vigorous as ever.”
“Ah, don’t say that. These days, my eyes get blurry just from reading a little.”
“I’ll procure some medicinal herbs good for the eyes.”
“You’re too kind, but don’t expect anything in return.”
“I’m not saying this with any expectations.”
“Hehe, well, I can’t refuse then.”
Geninghen, seemingly satisfied, pointed at Aiden’s monocle.
“But what’s with this one-eyed glasses? Did one of your eyes go bad?”
“…”
Aiden cleared his throat.
“It’s a fashion statement.”
“Hehe. The trends of today’s youth are beyond me.”
Who else could refer to the head butler of Grunewald and the head of the Borgart County as a “boy”?
But Geninghen had already been a legendary grand mage when Aiden was just a young man, around the same age as his nephew Olivier.
“I didn’t expect you to attend the banquet in person.”
At Venion’s words, Geninghen clicked his tongue.
“Isn’t it because you made such a fuss in your report?”
“What fuss are you talking about?”
“Tsk, you rascal. Didn’t you say it’s a talent that appears once in a generation?”
“I was going to say once in a hundred years, but I held back.”
“Do you think a hundred years is the name of someone’s dog? Even Leszek couldn’t claim such a title back in his day.”
Geninghen squinted his eyes and scrutinized Venion up and down.
“Tsk. But you’re not one to exaggerate.”
“If you didn’t trust me, Elder, you should’ve sent someone else—”
“Quiet, you rascal.”
Though he acted like a cranky old man dissatisfied with everything, Geninghen was actually quite excited and had even lost sleep over it.
“Anyway, I plan to see for myself just how talented our heir is.”
Geninghen personally assessing the potential of a direct descendant? This was no ordinary matter.
“Elder Geninghen, does that mean…”
The head butler cautiously asked.
“Are you considering granting young master Allenvert the qualification to learn advanced martial arts?”
“Well, I’m here on behalf of the Council of Elders to evaluate him. If he meets my standards, then yes.”
“Hmm.”
If that were to happen, it would be an unprecedentedly fast progression. While Verdzig and Ulbhild had also been introduced to advanced martial arts before their coming-of-age ceremonies—
The key point was that Allenvert, who had only begun learning basic martial arts less than half a year ago, was now being considered for advanced training.
“You said he’ll soon reach the 5th-tier, didn’t you?”
Venion responded as if it were obvious.
“Yes. We expect it to happen very soon.”
“If he’s already capable of taking down a large 5th-tier monster, his combat prowess is effectively at that level.”
“Of course.”
Listening to their conversation, Aiden cautiously interjected.
“Then why is it you, Elder Geninghen, and not Elder Leszek, who’s here? If the goal is to assess his swordsmanship, wouldn’t it make more sense for Elder Leszek, a swordsman himself—”
Elder Leszek, the Elder of the Sword.
He was the head of the clan three generations ago and once hailed as the kingdom’s greatest swordsman.
His skill, considered the greatest since the founding ancestor Vitenfeld, remained unmatched within the clan, except by Duke Georg.
“Ah, that?”
Geninghen’s answer was simple.
“I won. In a draw.”
Venion raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
“You didn’t cheat, did you?”
For Geninghen, developing a spell to rig a draw on the spot would be child’s play.
“In front of that guy? Do you want my head to roll?”
Geninghen snorted.
“Anyway, Duke, are you sure about this? Even if I assess the boy’s potential myself—”
“Of course.”
That was Duke Georg’s response.
“However, Allen has lost his memory, so meeting you will be like a first encounter for him. And Barclava was too young when he last saw you, so he might not remember clearly. Please don’t take it to heart.”
“Tsk, kids grow up so fast.”
Geninghen clicked his tongue.
“When did I get so old and become a relic of the past? It feels like just yesterday I was roaming the kingdom and foreign lands, enjoying life.”
In his youth, Geninghen was a mage who loved exploration as much as he loved research. Most of the legendary tales about his eccentric adventures were accumulated during that time.
“By the way, Duke.”
Geninghen’s expression turned serious.
“I heard there was contact from the Duchy of Valkenhain yesterday.”
“That’s correct.”
In fact, there was another reason Geninghen wanted to assess Allenvert’s potential.
“Those sly bastards. They never showed their faces before Karl, Verdzig, and Ulbhild came of age…”
Geninghen chuckled.
“Are they planning to use Allenvert as their sacrificial pawn?”
The Duke nodded.
“That’s likely the case. However, it’s so sudden that I suspect there might be another motive.”
“Well, whatever their true intention is—”
Geninghen shrugged.
“If they’re that confident, it wouldn’t hurt to knock them down a peg.”
“Agreed.”
“Tsk, in my and Leszek’s time, they wouldn’t have dared to breathe in our presence…”
Geninghen clicked his tongue and smiled at the Duke.
“But what do you plan to do about Somerset, that pathetic fool?”
“…”
The Duke’s eyes darkened.
“I’ll have to judge that after seeing him in person today.”
“That rotten scoundrel.”
Geninghen stroked his smooth chin. He had developed a depilatory spell to keep his face clean, refusing to grow a beard because it made him look too much like an old man.
“Raising children is never as easy as one hopes, right?”
“…They say raising children is harder than growing grapes.”
“You’ve had it tough, Duke. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Duke Georg barely resisted the urge to say, “The best way you can help me is by not causing any trouble and staying put,” and instead replied:
“Thank you for the offer.”
* * *
“It’s done, Your Highness.”
I looked at myself in the mirror after finishing my preparations.
The tailor-made formal attire, the neatly trimmed eyebrows and hair styled by a skilled barber—everything was perfect.
“Whose son is this handsome young man?”
“If you debuted in the social circles, you’d become everyone’s idol in a day.”
At the barber’s words, I replied coyly.
“I’m a bit too busy for that.”
Jeffrey muttered beside me.
“Why do you always act so full of yourself in front of the mirror?”
“Quiet.”
I scolded Jeffrey.
“There’s nothing uglier than the jealousy of an unattractive man.”
“Come on, I’m not that bad-looking.”
Of course, Jeffrey was quite handsome in a rugged way. But compared to the beauty of young master Allenvert, he was like a firefly next to the moonlight.
“You should at least surpass Olivier before you start talking.”
Among the three retainers, Olivier was the most aristocratic and handsome.
And what about Peter?
“Young master, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Stay strong.”
“?”
I patted Peter on the shoulder and stood up.
“Alright, let’s get going.”
“You’re leaving early again?”
“I need to secure our seats in advance.”
I also thanked the barber.
“Thank you. Your skills are as excellent as ever.”
“Th-thank you.”
“I’ll be counting on you next time.”
“Just leave it to me.”
Subordinates often find joy in even the smallest acknowledgment from their superiors. I discreetly slipped some money into the barber’s pocket before sending him off and turned to Jeffrey.
“Is Evan Bergen safe?”
“Yes. We’re receiving hourly updates.”
“Good.”
Olivier chimed in reassuringly.
“We’ve also received word from the Sixth Commander. His mother is safe and recovering quickly.”
“That’s a relief.”
I must keep my promise to reunite them, after all.
“Let’s head out, then.”
“Understood.”
From this moment on, I had to dive into the whirlwind of a battlefield without swords.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
Join our Discord for release updates!
https://discord.com/invite/dbdMDhzWa2
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