That Man

The equipment in these boxes was all of high quality, worth a total of about a million gold. However, if one didn’t purchase them in advance, it was very difficult to find such a large back in such little time. Only the royal family and others of their ilk could produce so many premium goods with ease.

This batch was the compensation for the six runes he had given to the royal family. The magic culture in Faelor was a few centuries behind Norland’s, so they could all be sold for three times the price out there. Richard was finally about to see profit in planar war.

Once the equipment was all checked, the royal guards left. Richard then had two paladins take turns on guard duty.

When the royal guards left, Richard personally closed the lid of all the magic sealing boxes, sitting on one and sighing lightly. Underneath him was a million gold coins, something that felt inexplicably strange. Just a few years ago, the total proceeds Gaton earned from one of his planes was less than this value.

Just like the old saying: what flowed between the fingers of runemasters was golden sand.

The air in the warehouse was slightly cold and damp. A corner of the eternal warmth formation had been damaged in the riots, and although it was still generally usable there were occasions where it would stop working. This gave it the same smell as a common cellar; one could feel a heavy staleness when breathing.

Richard was in no hurry to leave, just sitting there as he recalled matters of the past. The boxes under him were proof enough that he was far stronger than Gaton had been at the same age. Who knew what that man would think and say if he saw them?

However, he probably never would… Richard suddenly felt like he needed a drink.

It was only just starting to get dark when he strode out of the warehouse. There was still some time before dinner, so he headed to the study instead of the dining hall. He asked the steward to send a few slices of bread and sat down at the table, spreading out some paper in preparation to write letters to Sharon and Mountainsea.

The pen entered his hand, but the quill would not touch the paper. The runemaster who had drawn countless formations in his life felt blank in front of the empty sheet, not knowing what to write.

“I’m back, but I’m returning immediately. The plane is called Faelor, and it’s very safe.” This was the entirety of his letter to Sharon. Having thought about it for a long time, he had no clue how to address her so he just left the start blank.

The one for Mountainsea was even simpler, “I’m back. I will look for you within the appointed time.”

Richard was sweating profusely by the time these few sentences were done; just these two letters were several times more difficult to finish than any rune. He carefully sealed them both up and called for the old steward, giving them to him. He felt the burden on his shoulders fade a little once the two thin pieces of paper were handed over, letting him relax just a tiny bit more.

Once the butler left, Richard poured himself a drink and worried over various matters while tasting the alcohol in the glass. The cup was quickly emptied, so he poured himself another. The liquor was like fire sliding down his throat, burning up his stomach. He subconsciously picked up a slice of bread whenever the burn got too uncomfortable, swallowing it in a few mouthfuls and feeling much better. He would then pour himself another glass…

His mind wandered everywhere amidst the burning alcohol, allowing him to ponder over a great many things. He thought about the Deepblue Aria, about his promise to visit Mountainsea at Klando. Richard was no fool; it was obvious that Mountainsea had a very special identity. Klandor and Norland had never shared a good relationship, so this visit would definitely not be peaceful. It was quite likely that many barbarian warriors would be challenging him on the way. If there was a chance, they definitely wouldn’t mind eliminating him.

While Richard was lost in his own world, a few knocks sounded on the door before the steward made his way in. The old man was startled by what he saw, actually growing absent-minded for a moment.

Richard astutely caught the peculiarity in the man’s gaze. It was the same expression Lina had shown him just before he returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

The butler worked hard to keep his gaze off Richard as he answered, “The Church of the Eternal Dragon sent word that the ceremony will be early in the morning tomorrow. It begins at ten, but high priestess Ferlyn hopes you could head there a little earlier. She wishes to talk with you in private.”

“I understand,” Richard nodded, “Also, why did you look so surprised when you saw me just now?”

Seeing that he could not get out of the situation, the steward answered truthfully, “You looked extremely similar to Master Gaton just now, Young Master.”

Richard froze.

He had never expected this answer, the moment filling his mind with gloom. He silently waved the old man away, leaning onto the desk as he picked up his cup once more. Only then did he remember that sitting at the edge of the table like this was a common sight with Gaton. However, the steward definitely wouldn’t say he looked similar if it was just the position.

He was similar to that man? DAMN IT! Richard cursed in his mind, lifting the cup and swallowing all the alcohol in one go. The stream of fire burnt his throat all the way to the heart. That wretched man had fallen to such a childish scheme and gotten himself trapped on another plane! How were they similar?!

A blazing tipsiness surged through him, devouring his sobriety in one go. He felt himself go limp and slowly fall, a hazy thought that pampering himself once in a while was pretty good the last thing before he lost consciousness.

He did not understand how he had returned to his room, or how he was lying on the bed. When the magic alarm woke him from his dreams, it was already the next morning.

Richard felt his head hurting so badly it was about to explode. He had never gotten so drunk before, and although it was uncomfortable the soaring mood was actually quite good.

A warm towel was passed over at that moment. Richard took it and wiped his face vigorously, feeling somewhat better. A moment later, a pair of soft arms helped him sit up. Richard composed himself, turning around to find the person helping him was actually Coco.

The girl still looked as delicate as always. She cowered slightly the moment she met his gaze.

“Why are you here?” Richard frowned, his voice chilly.

Coco subconsciously shrank back, “You were drunk. The steward had me come to take care of you.”

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