Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 662: 308: Conspiracy in Progress_2

Chapter 662: Chapter 308: Conspiracy in Progress_2

The situation being such, I’ve obtained enough gold coins to squander for years, and the valiant knights of our country haven’t lost face. Everyone has a promising future, it’s practically a win-win…

Outside the warehouse.

In the dim thickets by the road, Leon watched as the carriage with the chandelier hanging from it gradually moved away.

“Atiyasians…”

Earlier, hidden in the shadows, Leon couldn’t understand the conversation between the two men in black.

But Kovis listened attentively, as the two Black Knights were speaking in Rodoc, the language of the Athias Empire from the Eastern Continent.

Leon turned back and handed the magic-guided crossbow arrow to Kovis.

“Find someone to meet Princess Ines, and explain the situation without delay!”

Seeing Kovis nod solemnly and then swiftly turn on his heels with the siege crossbow’s magic-guided arrow, Leon proceeded to follow Olivia in the direction the carriage was leaving.

South Oran, Royal Capital Inn.

In the deep night at the Warlock Society’s station, the lights were still extravagantly bright and resplendent.

In the hall, several Warlock Masters from the Northern Society were either standing, sitting, or pacing back and forth. None had yet gone to bed.

Wisemar, dressed in robe-like attire, lightly tapped the table with his finger as if playing an instrument.

They certainly were not troubled by overseeing the King’s knight tournament every day.

No matter which King hosted the grand knight events, large competitions like these were regular cooperative projects between the Warlock Society, the Royal Family, and various Great Nobles over the years.

Going back hundreds of years, before the Society was founded, knights’ tournaments back then were backed by Great Noble families with their wealth, using magic potions, hiding enchanted inner armor within their armor, placing magical weapons in their equipment, and even drugging opponents and their warhorses… the various cheating methods were endless.

It wasn’t until the birth of the Warlock Society, and the commissioning of spellcasters as overseers by wealthy nobles and the Orland Royal Family, that regional tournaments over the centuries gradually led to a pure martial arts competitive environment that allowed for fair competition.

This task had long been a familiar exercise for the Northern Wizards.

What truly kept them up at night presently was the young Southern Mage who had emerged half a month ago, showcasing a magical talent detection instrument in the Royal Palace.

Compared to the immovable large equipment in the Northern Fortress, the device presented by Baron Avalon, scarcely the size of two watermelons, was a thousand times smaller, and its efficiency in finding magic apprentices was immeasurable. Especially since it was heard that the other party could not only make one.

“Lydwen still doesn’t allow us to access that instrument, what should we do? How about… we sneak into the Royal Palace to have a private look?…” a young Warlock Master deliberated his proposal.

“Don’t even think about it, that cunning fellow surely has people guarding diligently day and night; rash actions will only give Lydwen an excuse again.” Wisemar lifted the cup, sipped some tea, and shook his head.

An old warlock sighed in regret: “Alas… if I had known earlier that the little knight Hilgard mentioned in the letter had such abilities, I should have personally invited him to join the Society in Kosos two years ago.”

“What use is there in saying these things now?” A female wizard shook her head: “Besides, his ‘abilities’? I don’t think these things are his abilities; how old is he anyway? Guardian Spirit Holy Lamp and now the instrument he’s tinkered out, these are magical techniques that a young person in their teens can figure out off the top of their head?

Magic is not like those muscle-brained knights training their brawn; I don’t believe for a second that a child could come up with the simplified demon runes and alchemy material structures out of thin air just by relying on talent.

That boy must have been fortunate enough to find Lorelette’s ruins in Nightmare Forest back then. His estate, Avalon Castle, reportedly appeared as if out of nowhere, and I don’t think the Farolis Family has the means to build such a large fortress in just one or two years.”

“What should we do then? Pendragon’s reply clearly stated that Lydwen won’t allow him to collaborate with us, are we just going to watch as he gradually establishes that so-called Avalon Magic Academy?” Another warlock frowned.

To the outside world, the so-called magic academy, currently invisible, perhaps cannot yet threaten the Warlock Society’s position in the magic field within the Kingdom.

But for warlocks who can live two or three hundred years, the different concept of time makes them very aware that the threat of competitors is, in fact, imminent.

The king’s full support, the advantage of his great noble status, coupled with the opponent’s mysterious magical knowledge and profound technology, means that a new magical organization comparable to the Warlock Society will emerge in the Kingdom without needing a century.

“Damn Met, if it weren’t for his outlandish attempts to collude with those Atiyasians across the sea, his unnecessary moves implicating us, Baron Leon Pendragon would have been ours by now.”

The old warlock huffed and slammed the head of his axe magic wand in anger.

Wisemar’s eyelid twitched slightly, putting down his teacup.

The female wizard sneered: “No need to complain. I don’t think Lydwen has many years left. His early hidden injuries coupled with the awful torment from that ‘Undead Lord’ Demon Blade, once he passes in a few years, Eric seems much duller than his father. If not, there’s always the next generation. Mortal lives are short, and decades pass in the blink of an eye; we will eventually have the opportunity to further connect with Baron Avalon. Once Pendragon has had his fill of playing knightly games with mortals, he will realize which people are his true kind.”

After discussing for a while, apart from the worst option of directly murdering Baron Avalon and flipping the table, and befriending by acquiring rare alchemy materials the opposite party is rumored to be seeking, there were no other effective countermeasures, and everyone dispersed one by one.

Wisemar stood up, went to the upper level of the Society’s inn, and returned to his room.

He hadn’t pushed the door open when his gaze sharpened, sensing someone had intruded into his room.

With a flash of electricity between his hands, the Warlock Master summoned his longsword-staff, about to break the door open when a familiar voice interrupted his spell.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s me.” A voice low and serpentine emerged from behind the door.

Wisemar was slightly stunned, then annoyance appeared on his face.

He lowered his sword-staff, pushed the door open, and as he entered, sealed the door with a Dharma Seal behind him.

Wisemar looked at the familiar figure clad in a black robe in front of him, angered, “——You broke your promise. You swore never to return to Orland! Do you know the trouble you’ve caused with your Atiyasian associates and the mess they’ve made for the Society’s plans!? How dare you return now!”

The seated man in black chuckled softly: “Some things are unavoidable, old friend.”

Wisemar took a deep breath, holding back his temper and regaining composure: “I only hope your return from the Eastern Continent isn’t just to catch up with me… Met, you better have brought something surprising to calm my anger.”

“…Of course.” Met gave a slight smirk: “The surprise I have for you is far beyond your imagination, old friend. Forget about that so-called plan of the Society. The efficiency is too slow and moreover, upon my return, I’ve heard of that little rascal’s rise from the South. He’s not as simple as he appears, if this continues and he’s allowed to combine forces with the Orland Royal Family, the Society will never be able to fulfill our long-cherished wish.”

“Get to the point!” Wisemar said dissatisfied.

“Heh heh~” Met laughed lightly: “I personally saw the true future on the Eastern Continent. Now I’ve returned to bring that future to this land, with the help of our real kind, to erase the ignorance and darkness that have shrouded humanity for thousands of years.”

“Help me, join me, Wise, in just a day’s time, the entire kingdom will be ours!”

Wisemar remained unmoved: “I refuse to believe your empty words so easily.”

Not at all perturbed by his old friend’s caution, Met merely paced to the table, lightly sketching with his fingers.

Magic power conjured a complex pattern on the table surface.

Wisemar approached to have a look, recognizing… it was somewhat like Oran… the Royal Palace?

“Remember where that sword is.” Met smiled meaningfully.

“The Royal Palace of Oran is in fact part of an ancient and immense magic ceremony, and the reason that sword can’t be pulled out is because it’s the switch linked to the ceremony. As they are one, anyone attempting to extract the sword is equivalent to trying to lift the entire land of Oran with bare hands…”

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