Chapter 228

The reason Nick was so eager to leave Floria to go on missions and adventures was to become stronger, both as an Occultist and as a person. There was still much he didn’t understand about this world, but the past few months had helped him see things more clearly.Knowledge about Alluria’s magic tower was limited, but based on what he’d seen at the frontier and what the locals had told him, he was confident he could pass the entrance exam.

According to Sir Leon, the average hopeful was around level thirty, though that was by no means the upper limit.

Nick knew he should be able to ace the tests even as he was now. His skill with elemental magic alone should attract the attention of many masters, and if that wasn’t enough, he had force magic to rely on to seal the deal.

If he didn't have a deadline looming, he might have been satisfied to tinker with his current repertoire, gradually improving his skills over the years.

Unfortunately, both Ogden and Elia were there to rain on his parade. Sooner than he’d like, he would have to face a Prestige class, someone with decades, if not more, of experience. And that wasn’t even to speak of the presence lurking behind him.

That meant he had to accelerate his plans.

There were a few more things he would have liked to do in Floria. Visiting Arthur to finish their talk chief among them, but also getting a closer look at whatever was brewing in the temple of Sashara, and helping his father strengthen his rule by uncovering any spies.

Indeed, his original plan was to infiltrate the tower and gradually extract all its secrets until he learned everything they knew and could move on.

To achieve that within a year, he would need to gain prominence among the recruits. According to Sir Leon, that meant either catching the attention of the Tower Master, the Bookkeeper, or the Court Wizard.

Those three were the most powerful mages in the West, and all possessed access to centuries of magical knowledge that could give him an edge in the upcoming conflict.

Of course, Nick wouldn’t put all his eggs in one basket. He would still work hard to gather gold to participate in the auction for the orichalcum, so he could forge a focus using the divine relics he had acquired. He also needed to keep his battle skills sharp by regularly going on expeditions to fight monsters.

But he was very aware that unless he encountered another dungeon, he wouldn’t be able to gather enough experience to advance into Prestige in just one year.

The requirements for each level just kept scaling higher, and while his pace was still frankly absurd compared to almost anyone else, it wouldn’t be enough.

Ideally, he would try to ingratiate himself enough so the mage who took him in would be willing to help him fight the Ultimers when the time came, but Nick knew better than to count on that.

The first step to accomplish everything was to finally leave his hometown for good.

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Sitting on the highest branch of the tree at the eastern entrance, Nick sighed. He’d already said his goodbyes to everyone, and his parents had even given him a pouch of gold and a plaque that would demonstrate his noble status to everyone.

Thinking about his mother holding back tears as she watched him walk away only made the tight feeling in his chest worse, so Nick decided he had procrastinated enough.

Hopping down from the branch, he gently floated until his feet touched the ground and turned away from Floria.

For once, there was no last-minute surprise. No one else showed up to see him off.

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That was another unresolved problem he hated to leave open, but Eugene had reassured him that things were under control, and Nick simply didn’t have the time or the personal power to face the Prelate.

And with that, Nick was off.

The winds obeyed his command without hesitation, surrounding him in a bubble and lifting him up. activated seamlessly, providing all the push he needed, and in the blink of an eye, he was already hundreds of feet away from the tree.

Indeed, the ground blurred beneath him as he sped away, coming down just enough to touch the ground before he was once again in the air, racing through the rolling fields that had once seemed so wild.

It took Nick just six hours to reach the bridge where he had fought the bandits, and he decided it was a good place to stop for a moment, especially considering what he was sensing.

Dust stirred as he fell from the sky, but it quickly settled again at his command.

“Well, what’s this?” He asked aloud, addressing the four men in uniform who were guarding the bridge and stopping several carts from passing through. They were in the middle of bargaining with two adventurers, judging by their mismatched, yet enchanted, clothing.

All four soldiers startled in shock, evidently not having sensed his arrival. The two bearded men they were talking to responded to his approach with remarkable calm, confirming that his initial assessment of the situation was accurate.

“Who are you?!” One of the soldiers, a young man with tanned skin and rough hands, yelled in shock, but Nick’s gaze was only on one of the older ones, who had turned pale upon recognizing him.

“Well?” He repeated, ignoring the blustering of what he was pretty sure was a farmhand turned recruit.

“We were just collecting the toll, Lord Nicholas,” the older soldier replied, and Nick could sense he was telling the truth. Just not the whole story.

“And that’s taking you this long, why?” He pressed, eyeing the dozen or so carts being held up.

“Lord?” The younger soldier asked in surprise, before being shushed by another.

The two adventurers quickly filed that in, their body language shifting to show less hostility, if still cautious.

Considering what Nick was pretty sure was happening, he didn’t doubt that it was justified.

“They are refusing to pay the fee. Say the crossing of this bridge was once free, so they don’t need to pay now. I was just telling them that things have changed, and that this is now a barony. Every noble has the right to set tolls upon entrance, and Lord Crowley has done so. If they want to pass, they have to pay.”

That much, Nick knew. His father had imposed a symbolic tax on anyone entering his new territory with more than the clothes on their back, but the amount was fairly small. It was meant solely to prevent peasants from nearby areas from flooding in, which could cause conflicts with their lords.

“There is a fee, that much is true,” Nick said, this time to the adventurers, whose expressions darkened. “But it is only ten coppers per person, and a silver per cart. Can you not pay this? As far as I know, it is a very minor tax compared to other territories.”

Two things happened at once. First, the young soldier made for his sword but was stopped by an older companion. Second, the two adventurers grinned fiercely, clearly anticipating a fight.

Nick, it seemed, had run into a problem.

In a society rooted in feudal conditions, corruption was a widespread phenomenon. Even he participated in it, accepting a precious sword on his father’s behalf to speed up a permit, but Nick wasn’t above applying double standards, especially when the corruption in this case could cause significant damage to his family’s reputation and income.

“Am I to understand that you were asked for more?”

“Why are you stopping me?” The younger soldier whispered angrily, only to be slapped harshly by the other, knocking him to the ground.

To their credit, the other three soldiers didn’t hesitate to drop to their knees. “We beg for your forgiveness, milord.” The leader of the group murmured, eyes firmly on Nick’s feet.

For a moment, he thought about punishing them. He could easily overpower them all, considering the amount of mana he could sense from them.

But maybe he wouldn’t have to. He’d been getting some practice with oaths lately and was eager to try crafting one himself.

“How much did they want?” He asked the adventurers idly, mentally rehearsing the exact wording he’d use for this.

“They asked for a silver per person and ten per cart, milord,” the burlier of the two answered. Both men were carefully observing the situation, surprised by the lack of resistance from the corrupt soldiers, and quickly realizing there was more to him than just being a noble scion.

Considering he was here alone, rather than with a retinue of guards like most other nobles his age, it wasn’t too hard to notice.

“Well, I can see how such an expense would make haggling worth it,” Nick mused. Most merchants could afford that toll, but few would find it worthwhile. Coming to Floria was already a gamble enough, as it wasn’t guaranteed to turn into a wealthy enough hub for their specific trade. Adding the absurd crossing tax on top would stop almost anyone from coming in.

From the guards' perspective, even just a ten percent pay increase would make them wealthier than what a career in the force could provide. But they were too greedy. If they had simply asked for twice the original tax, Nick would have let them go with just a warning, and they could have continued lining their pockets.

Instead, their mouths had gotten too big for their stomachs, and now they would pay the price.

“I’m going to give you one chance, and once chance only. You will swear an oath of eternal loyalty to House Crowley and its laws. If you do not, you will be dismissed from service and treated like bandits,” he finally said.

By now, even the younger guard, who had probably just been recruited during the initial effort to expand the force by taking in idle men from nearby villages, had realized how deep they were in, and so there was no resistance.

“We will swear,” the leader replied, bowing even lower.

“Very well. Then repeat after me. I do swear, upon my breath and blood, before gods and men, and the unseen powers, that I shall serve House Crowley with unwavering loyalty. Its laws shall be my law. Its enemies, my enemies. Its heirs and their kin, the true bearers of my oath. By the steel I carry and the soul I bear, I shall not raise hand, voice, nor thought in betrayal. I shall defend its honor with my life, and let my flesh turn to ash should I break this vow. Let falsehood rot on my tongue, let cowardice freeze my limbs, let death take root in my bones, should I ever falter in my duty. I swear now, freely and without deception, that House Crowley is my liege and master, from this hour until the end of my days.”

They dutifully repeated his words, and only after they finished did they feel Nick’s magic wash over them, transforming empty words into binding ones.

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