Iver carefully examined the usually low-key old Ritual Mage before him.
Queen Sophia had ascended the throne sixty years ago. At the time, she had not yet turned twenty.
Since Old Ibn had known Sofia back then, could it be said that... when he met Jacob Alexander, he had only been in his early twenties?
He had a white beard, and his naturally curly hair had already turned gray. Even dressed in Avalon-style clothing, one could still vaguely catch a hint of a foreigner's bearing in his features.
His oily green pupils had also clouded with a gray film with age. In his youth, he might have been a handsome young man with deep-set features, black curly hair, and a beard.
And what had Jacob looked like back then, for Ibn—who had not seen him in decades—to find Iver familiar?
At that thought, Iver was dazed for a moment.
"Jacob Alexander..."
He immediately focused his mind and answered softly, "He was my grandfather."
Ibn looked puzzled. "But I remember, you weren't from the Moriarty Family..."
"James Moriarty was my adoptive father."
Iver explained, "When I was a few years old, my parents and all my relatives were killed. My adoptive father raised me."
"...So that's how it was."
The old man slightly widened his already cloudy eyes and muttered, "Such things happen in Avalon too..."
He fell silent for a while, looking as though he had aged several years.
"They were all cursed to death."
Iver continued calmly, "According to my investigations over the years, my grandfather died of 'typhoid' fourteen years ago."
"Heh. Typhoid..."
Upon hearing this, Ibn sneered. "It should have been the Typhoid Curse. That was the curse Jacob invented... His philosophy regarding Spellcasting was to remain as inconspicuous as possible—it was best not to let people