Chapter 9

The two boys were much younger than Ralf, but their gazes were filled with explicit curiosity, contempt, and hostility; everything but affection. Their stares made the hair on Ralf's neck stand, which only happened when he could feel murderous intent.

His six sisters were all of the different ages: the eldest proved to be a young lady judging by her swelling bosom, and the youngest was likely less than five years old. The looks they gave him were much more complicated as well; there was inquisitiveness, but also hesitation as they scrutinized him.

The two oldest were huddled together, discussing in low voices and glancing over at him from time to time as they occasionally erupted into unbridled laughter. Ralf still couldn't understand what it was, only that it was definitely of no concern to their brothers and younger sisters. It would take some time for him to realize that it was what women did to men they wanted to sleep with.

Ralf didn't speak a word. He didn't know what to say at all, and his siblings didn't seem intent on conversation either. They leveled their constant, piercing gazes at him, some filled with such pointed callousness that they threatened to stab a hole through him while others radiated a hatred like they wanted to devour him whole.

They only met for ten minutes, but to Ralf, it felt an extremely long day had passed by the time the butler brought him out of the drawing-room. He discovered the dress shirt he was wearing underneath his clothes was already drenched.

He later realized that the ten minutes in which he met his siblings was a sort of ceremony that represented their approval of him as part of the Archerons and that he would be part of the family from now on. Such a ceremony also allowed the members of the Archeron family to get to know each other, giving them opportunities to select each other in the future.

Ralf departed Black Castle the next noon, escorted by a small party of troops as he headed west. He hadn't seen Galore again since dinner, and his father hadn't come out even when he left Azan. The meeting was simpler than he had imagined, and also much more cold and indifferent. He hadn't had any expectations in the first place, but he still felt a vague sense of loss when he left. The number of siblings made him understand that he was just another child to his father.

However, Ralf secretly clenched his fist so hard that his fingernails scraped his palm. Two scenes superimposed themselves in front of his eyes: one was raging flames that continued to blur that day. He suddenly felt that his mother died such an unjust death.

The team headed west, with Mordred still being Ralf's escort. The knight spoke much less this time, only adding a few sentences in on occasion for the twenty day journey. They passed through dark forests, crossed the Roman River that stretched across continents, trudged along with the pale mountain ranges for another ten days, then passed through the territories of a dozen nobles and even a grand duchy before they finally arrived at their destination: the Deepblue, a magical tower in the territory of the legendary Grand Mage Sharon.

Space possessed power of its own. An immensely vast space will always exert some kind of actual on people.

Standing in front of the Deepblue, Ralf truly understood how vast a magical tower more than 500 meters tall could be. This wasn't just a standalone structure, but an entire complex of buildings extending from the Everwinter Mountains to one of the tributaries of Floe Bay. The central building was built in gothic style, its flying buttresses adorned with complicated and exquisite carvings. An eye-catching spire and pointed arches supported the door, while colorful clouds of elemental the peak. The entire magical tower seemed to be floating up towards the sky.

Ralf met Sharon quickly. This was a legendary mage, a guardian of the Alliance, and the instructor his father had chosen for him. Only face to face with the dragonslayer to coach him; the journey was entirely his father's wishful thinking.

Ralf now stood in Sharon's magical hall, which was a dreamlike space. The walls and the ground were made of some unknown, sparkling material that was a translucent navy blue. One would be able to peer into the depths of the hall with one glance, but it also felt as though they couldn't look beyond the surface. Multicolored optical disks whirled around the wall and the floor from time to time, moving freely like a bunch of fish frolicking around, as agiler as though they were alive.

A throne carved out of an entire chunk of natural crystal stood atop a platform at the end of the hall, Sharon herself seated on it. Her feet were on the same level as Mordred's chin, and over Ralf's head-- she was lofty. But with her legendary status, no one would think was lacking manner whatsoever.

Sharon's golden hair flowed freely, and her long regal dress with plunging neckline revealed her bare shoulders and much of her snow-white bosom. Her complexion was unbelievably fair, and one would have an urge to bite any part of her body if they saw it. Of course, one would choose to lay their teeth upon her full chest if they had a choice, and next would be her face. She seemed seventeen at most, with a small face and quiet disposition. The grand mage was the definition of classic beauty, seated atop the towering crystal throne like a spirit that had just descended.

Those who met her for the first time would be unable to associate such a young and beautiful woman with a legendary mage. But even the youngest mage would know that the Deepblue had been around for more than a century.

Her hands were crisscrossed upon her knee, and every single finger was adorned with a long fingernail guard forged from enchanted adamantine, each finger embedded with gems and designs of every color. The designs on the guards were formed from tiny spells inlaid in the myriad of gems that included rare stones only seen in legends. Those who knew value would be able to see that these guards were all impeccable powerful magical transmitters, or perhaps they were like magical tools, and Sharon could cover all ten of her fingers in them. Her earrings, necklace, and even the string that she used to tie her hair were magic transmitting equipment similar to the fingernail guards...