Surviving The Fourth Calamity
Chapter 767 - 566: The Tablet of Silver Dragon Farisonis

Chapter 767: Chapter 566: The Tablet of Silver Dragon Farisonis

Above the white clouds, Hill stopped his busy hands as he released a Cloud House.

Little Flower Fairies, trying to establish a good relationship with the Lily of the Valley and Windmill Jasmine that Hill had released, were urging him repeatedly to hurry up and prepare the little nests for the Magical Plants.

Hill smiled helplessly.

Although these Magical Plants could absorb Magic Power from the air to survive, they still preferred the more nutritious earth, and Hill had to set up two flower beds for them every time.

He finished the work swiftly, opening all of the Isolation Arrays of the Cloud House, and without hesitation used the fifth Chapter of the Magic Book.

The Illusion Magic Array on this Cloud House was made using the Silvermoon Shard from Teraxil as a magical power source: Hill thought that even Valkin would not be able to find him.

However, Hill still needed to be cautious about the powerful individuals allied with Valkin, such as Bane.

Such folks, even if they couldn’t find their target, would not hesitate to sweep across the entire sky’s clouds in their search.

Hill truly had not expected to hear the news about Valkin again, especially not in the Ten Towns.

However, it was understandable after all, even though the Northern Ten Towns had always had a somewhat complicated relationship with the barbarians, the people of Burlin Sand Town would certainly not communicate with the barbarians.

They had always held a deep hatred for the barbarian uproar of yesteryears.

Although the barbarians’ target was not this small town, they wouldn’t care about harming these useless humans while pursuing their enemies.

And merchants in the Ten Towns who were aware of the news would rarely risk offending a True God by spreading rumors, and Tampas was not a remarkably generous deity.

Moreover, his dislike for Valkin did not mean he would become mortal enemies with her.

Otherwise, Valkin’s followers would not have hidden here: they could have gone to other continents!

Wherever there are merchants, the Friend of Merchants will find followers.

Whether this follower is a trustworthy retainer or a madman daring to treat gods as equals in trade depends on Valkin’s luck.

Hill thought the ever-misguided Goddess of Wealth knew nothing of luck.

He returned to his room, relishing in the refreshing chill of the air above Icewind Valley, and began flipping through the books in his hands with delight, particularly several black stone books whose texts were not just in Ancient Elven Script.

Mingled within were clearly patterns of Draconic.

And books written in Draconic, even if they are children’s tales, should be considered Magical Curios.

But these books had not even a hint of magical aura.

Yet, despite being made of black stone, their patterns were elegant and ancient, making them look like valuables.

That’s why the junk shop owner had placed these stone books at the very top of that box of ruined books— even if they were covered in dust, they might catch the eye of some self-proclaimed discerning merchant.

But Hill estimated that most people couldn’t understand them. This archaic Elven language was likely only studied by Mages learning Runes or scholars delving into ancient tomes.

Even if occasionally a Mage passing through could understand them, they probably wouldn’t show much interest in childish Elven bedtime stories.

Those capable of spotting issues with the patterns at a glance must either have a Giant Dragon inheritance or understand God’s Language.

After all, the written language of dragons bears some resemblances to God’s Language in certain respects, so someone like Hill, who barely studied it out of inheritance, could generally only write: speaking it was a bit problematic.

But Hill was more accustomed to using Elf Runes, so it didn’t matter much to him.

As he slowly read through the passage, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Fortunately, Terry had corrected his pronunciation in the past, and Hill slowly read aloud, "Only a Little Dragon who studies hard will one day sleep on a bed made of Gold Coins."

The stone book in his hand gradually changed its form, finally becoming black scales that appeared blank.

Hill recognized them: they were Black Dragon Scales.

Of course, he also realized what the books were: the tablets of Farisonis, a Lesser Artifact of the Transmutation Series.

It was understandable that these long-lost items would appear in the Northern Ten Towns; this had once been a place of mixed habitation for Giant Dragons and Ancient Elves when their relations were amiable.

But for a moment Hill felt a bit bewildered, unsure whether this was his own good fortune or if the world of Toril was scheming against him.

He looked down at the seemingly blank scales, and with a gentle and careful touch, he could indeed read the words.

Each scale had one side polished smooth while the other retained its natural rough texture. On the smoother side, neat Draconic script composed the works of the famous Silver Dragon, Farisonis. The more rugged side contained some additional notes written in Ancient Elvish.

The content on these tablets described how the Dragon Race learned, understood, and used magic. Even an untaught Little Dragon, as long as it possessed these, could achieve healthy and rapid growth by integrating its inherited knowledge.

Hill glanced over the Ancient Elvish and found that most of it consisted of annotations to the Dragon Spell Magic.

After carefully reading through it, Hill received notification of the artifact’s benefit: only someone who had spent ten days thoroughly studying the tablets would obtain a 20% immunity against any Spell or Spell-like Abilities from a True Dragon.

He could sense that what was originally a Giant Dragon’s infant teaching material, had been transformed by the hands of the Ancient Elves into a tool to combat Giant Dragons.

Hill pondered for a while and felt that the only value of this artifact to him was as a reference material; he should regard it as merely a matter of luck, which was easier for him to understand.

The Amanata’s Holy Grail he had encountered earlier was not normal; just looking at it made Hill’s head tingle, with constant alarms sounding off in his Mental Sea. No matter how he looked at it, it was a trap.

Hill looked up at the sky outside; the Sun had shifted slowly, and it was already dusk of the second day.

The first day’s bountiful harvest had given him some unrealistic expectations for the books of The North. Even though he knew the chances were slim, Hill still gleefully went to collect the books.

The proprietor of the general store really had some skill: over the next two days, Hill indeed received nearly 600 books.

Unfortunately, after briefly scanning them a few times, Hill felt nothing special.

Feeling a bit disheartened, he gloomily welcomed the dusk of the third day.

Although he had mentally prepared himself, there were quite a few Mages in the Ten Towns, especially those Red Robe Mages from Luskan. Though their character might not be great, their eye for detail certainly wasn’t poor. Compared to the fools nurtured by the Black Staff in Deepwater City who were too arrogant for their own good, these Red Robes who struggled on the edge of life and death were much stronger—they wouldn’t miss any opportunity.

But the first day’s haul was too wonderful.

With a smile, Hill approached Somer’s general store and paused quietly in front.

He waved his hand to stop Somer, who had come out to greet him. Hill cast a cold glance at the people hiding in the nearby bookstore; an Illusion Array that combined low-level Illusion Techniques with shadows, and they thought to deceive his eyes?

The people in the bookstore remained still as if playing dead, continuing to hide in the shadows. They understood that just being watched without any sign of hostility usually meant a Mage of Kind Alignment wouldn’t strike first.

Their mission was only to observe, of course, and the other party had also tried to hire them for assassination—the Thieves’ Guild had always dual-functioned as assassins.

But nobody was foolish enough to underestimate the Guild’s intelligence, which was even better than the Harpists’.

The Shadow Walkers throughout the Ferun Great Land had all heard about how this resident of Silvermoon City dealt with high-level Thieves.

Unless someone could restrict his Magic use or offer a Spell-breaking Dagger capable of piercing a Ninth Ring Mage’s Shield as advance payment for the mission, not even Mask’s oracle would prompt them to assault this Archmage.

Those who joined the ranks of Thieves mostly did so to improve their own lives—who would expect Thieves to have any life philosophy?

If there were such people, they’d be foolish sons or daughters seeking thrills from noble families, either becoming expendable heroes in epics or dying without knowing where they ended up.

Hill frowned. He found their attitude of a dead pig not fearing scalding water rather annoying.

With a flick of his finger, he sealed off the entire perimeter of the bookstore to prevent outsiders from entering. Only then did he set up an invisible trap combining Wind Series and Earth Magic around the circle, not sparing even the rooftop.

He was indeed adept at dealing with these shadow-dwellers; anyone who stepped on the trap would immediately be carried away by a gust of wind and dropped underground. They wouldn’t die, but it would take them a long time to climb back up.

Thieves always perceived Kind Alignment Mages as easy targets, but aside from apprentices freshly arrived from the Magic Tower, who only knew to abide by rules, an Archmage like Hill had numerous ways to deal with them without violating his inner will.

Still, had Valkin’s followers fallen so low as to hire the subordinates of their enemies? Mask must be rolling with laughter in the Stellar Realm.

With a contemplative expression, Hill walked into the general store. Somer, accompanied by his large nephew-like assistant, came up to him with a worried look. "Respected Archmage, I swear I haven’t leaked any information about you!"

Hill raised his right hand and gestured downwards to calm him. There was no need to worry about such things; Hill had known about them for a long time.

The traps, of course, had been prepared beforehand; otherwise, not even he could have set them up instantly.

He had sought out Lily of the Valley not for the Little Flower Fairy.

Although he did not place surveillance bells throughout the Ten Towns, he had certainly set them up well in Burlin-Sand Town and Goltas Town, sprinkled by Lily of the Valley.

Lily of the Valley had been with Hill for a long time. The abundant Force of Nature had given her almost Demigod-like strength; she no longer needed living branches to spy.

Tiny silver bells, the size of pinheads, were all Hill needed to drop onto those perpetually moving Adventurers, and they would naturally find a safe place to settle.

There was no Magic Power in them; they would simply relay what they heard back to Lily of the Valley periodically, who had to sift through the chaotic messages for clues.

Hill had previously been reluctant to do so, but for his enemies, who cared about their feelings?