Chapter 219

“Lord Quack, Lady Quack. You host a great party, I must say,” Nick said with a smile, as if he hadn’t noticed all the subtle power plays.Twinkling sounds echoed as the lady bowed, her diamond earrings and necklace shifting with her. “You honor me, Lord Crowley.”

Her smile was perfectly pleasant, and considering how generous she’d been—sending her personal seamstress to have him properly prepared for the ball—he was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

That was, if he couldn’t see the greed, ambition, annoyance, and light amusement reflected in her presence.

“Yes, yes, it’s an honor to host you,” Sir Quack added, sounding much less sentimental. “My lovely wife knows her craft, but we wouldn’t have been able to intrigue so many people if it weren’t for your presence. Everyone is just so curious about you.”

Nick tilted his head just slightly to acknowledge his words. The man was a snake, but he seemed to have settled after their talk. At least for the moment, that was.

Looking around the room, it was clear that everyone’s attention was on them. Nick had to wonder at how casual these people were, after the tragedy that had unfolded in their town, but then again, it wasn’t as if there was much anyone could do about it.

Nick had paid close attention to the comings and goings of the local militia, and everyone seemed convinced that the fire had spread because of an internal fight among the priests.

He doubted that was the case. Everything had been too neat.

Both were equally dangerous and needed close monitoring to make sure whatever it was didn’t spread beyond a single incident, but if the local lord wasn’t worried, there wasn’t much Nick could do.

More importantly, it seemed like the moment of the oath had finally arrived. “I’ll be sure to mingle a bit more afterward, but first we should get the formalities out of the way, shouldn’t we?”

Quack’s eyes flashed with something between annoyance and stubborn pride, but he couldn’t do anything but give in. He was the one who delayed the oath long enough to turn it into a spectacle, so Nick didn’t feel any guilt about it.

“Yes, formalities must be observed,” the man said, as he untangled his arm from his wife’s and went down on one knee.

A hush fell over the crowd before everyone realized they were also supposed to bow.

Some weren’t locals and technically could get away with standing since they didn’t owe their allegiance to House Crowley, but they wisely chose to either hide in the shadows at the back or kneel anyway.

“I, Sir Matheus Quack, Captain Commander of Honeyton, Knight of the Thundering Lance, Winner of Alluria’s Decennial Tourney, and Head of House Quack, pledge my allegiance to House Crowley, as the rightful rulers of the western grassland! My blade is your blade, my hearth is your hearth!”

As expected, the man couldn’t resist adding a few more titles than were strictly necessary. But since the oath still worked, Nick didn’t care how he did it.

“I, Nicholas Crowley, son of Baron Eugene Crowley, accept your oath of fealty! Rise as a vassal of House Crowley, and know that your enemies are our enemies, and that our walls will protect your descendants.”

For his part, Nick stuck to the wording he’d been given. He was tempted to make a few subtle changes, but oaths of fealty were very fickle magic, and unless they were taken in good faith, they could settle in unpredictable ways.

Fortunately, it seemed that Quack didn’t mess it up, because Nick felt the weight of the contract settle in the ether.

He also needed to visit Yohan the next morning, but hopefully he could wrap that up quickly. After that, he’d be free to rush back home.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Quack stood up, followed by everyone else, and gave Nick a curt nod. “I will leave you to that socializing, then. I’m sure everyone will appreciate me not hogging your attention.”

And with that, he was gone, sweeping away with his wife at his elbow.

Nick watched them leave with mixed feelings. He didn’t like the man because he was too self-serving, but overall, things could have turned out worse.

To be fair, he had gone to spar in the yard specifically to prevent that. By showcasing his martial skill, despite being a mage, he proved himself enough that if the knight challenged him, it would be considered gauche.

Social expectations once again proved to be a double-edged sword.

“That was well done, milord,” Emile murmured from his side, having slipped back in before anyone else could. “Not many your age could have handled Sir Quack that well. Your father must have great trust in you to send you in his place."

Nick eyed the handsome merchant and shook his head. “My father has much more important things to worry about. I only did what I had to do.”

The man didn’t seem to know what to do with that, but that was not surprising because he was someone for whom social climbing was everything. He simply couldn’t understand that Nick couldn’t care less about it.

He had more important things to do, like figuring out how to harness his emotions to create even bigger explosions.

The next morning, Nick was up before dawn. He’d promised he would visit Yohan, and he would, but first, he had a loose end to tie up.

Slipping out of the manor required more finesse than in Oakenhallow. The guards here were better trained and numerous enough that there weren’t easily exploitable gaps.

Of course, that didn’t mean much when he could just fly above them, cloaked in the darkness of night. With his perfect mana control, he didn’t even leave a trail for them to follow.

It took more effort than he would have liked, but flying was still a complex task for him, so he took his time and only allowed himself to relax once he was back on the ground.

Moving through the shadowy alleys, Nick kept a cautious eye out for patrols, sometimes relaxing and acting like an ordinary citizen heading to work, and other times pulling back and hiding until they passed.

Finally, he reached his target.

The temple of Eztie was little more than a skeleton after the fires were extinguished. Doors and windows were gone, and the wind carried him scents of ash and charred bones.

All in all, it wasn’t a very welcoming place. Yet, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Something about this whole situation didn’t add up, and it would drive him crazy unless he figured out what it was.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION

has blocked the effects of a

The feeling was very faint, enough that Nick was pretty sure that unless something was done about it, the god of justice would lose its hold on the temple in the next week or so.

That was very interesting, considering he had been in temples that had been abandoned for a century, yet their domain was still operational.

He wondered briefly if there could be a power difference between the two gods. Inari was an ancient deity, whose influence on the land extended far beyond the short time humans had occupied it.

But then again, she was also a goddess without followers.

Eztie, on the other hand, was a modern god. One with an active following and whose temples saw quite a bit of use.

Floria was firmly Sashara’s territory, so he’d never personally used their services, but after snooping around, Nick found that locals often came here to settle disputes, at least for those petty enough that Sir Quack wouldn’t bother with.

The strong emotion still lingered in the temple halls, enough that Nick was fairly certain he could harness it to power a potent ritual, if he was reckless enough to do it in the middle of a populated town.

And yet. And yet, the more he searched for clues, the more something began nagging at him.

It was a familiar feeling, something he’d already experienced before. The circumstances weren’t the same, that much was true, but as Nick used the winds to clear away some of the soot, he found a clue he couldn’t ignore anymore.

There, hiding beneath a fallen log of timber and several inches of soot, was a line carved into the stone floor.

Following that, Nick started moving things around. He carefully kept any sounds from leaving the building, as he didn’t want to get charged with looting or something equally absurd.

Another sweeping line, followed by eerily familiar inscriptions, finally led him to the back chamber where he found the priests’ corpses.

They’d been removed since, but that only made what he’d stumbled on clearer. The room served as the upper boundary of a pentagram, one whose raison d’être was to dispel any divine influence from the temple.

He’d seen the exact same thing in the last temple with the girls. Back then, it had pretty clearly been his ancestor’s work, but now it couldn’t be. Aleister Crowley had been dead and buried for decades.

Which meant the remains of the camp they’d found back then didn’t belong to travelers who’d randomly decided to rest nearby. It was people who’d deliberately sought that temple out to learn its secrets.

And who had now repeated that same ritual here.

Nick closed his eyes, expanding his senses and blocking out all the noise from outside the temple’s boundary.

It wasn’t easy, given how much information provided him these days, but after some effort, he managed to narrow its scope.

“This isn’t exactly the same. Or rather, they replicated the ritual circle perfectly, but the magic they performed upon it wasn’t quite right,” he murmured.

Now that he was looking for it, he could sense that, although the final outcome would remain the same—the complete eradication of the domain within a week—it was noticeably clumsier. Aleister had been a master of his craft, but whoever was here still had a long way to go.

That didn’t mean they weren’t powerful, no, just that they had yet to reach Prestige.

Also, without the noise echoing from outside, Nick sensed something unexpected. He’d almost dismissed it as part of the background noise, but it was clear now.

Carefully stepping over the lines on the ground, Nick telekinetically lifted a heavy stone chest that had mostly escaped the fires intact.

It was completely empty, of course, but beneath it lay a small carved hollow in the floor. Inside was a golden measuring scale emitting divine power.