Gret took the letter of recommendation and headed straight for the Mage Tower.
The Temple's search party had arrived in high spirits and retreated in disgrace. They hadn't even reached their destination before offending a necromancer, and their strongest fighter had been gravely wounded. Seeing no point in pressing on, they had no choice but to return to the Temple to recover and receive treatment.
As for what came next—whether they would investigate, seek revenge, or do something else—that could wait.
Even Priest Donald, who had wanted to talk with Gret a little longer, could only give him a regretful glance before climbing into his carriage and driving away without looking back.
With the Temple's guards withdrawn, they naturally wouldn't be dealing with the City Guard anymore. Gret and his teammates discussed it, then doubled back to Uncle Edmond's farm to meet up with Captain Karen. They borrowed a few mounts from Uncle Edmond, took a shortcut, and headed straight back to the city.
After taking such a heavy loss, the Temple's guards might well look for someone to blame. If they pinned their failure on Gret and his companions, a handful of low-ranking soldiers wouldn't be able to withstand the fallout. Their best option was to hurry back to camp and report to their superiors.
Even Young Priest John of the Temple of the God of War canceled his plans to visit home and turned back toward the Temple.
Gret parted ways with them just before entering the city and headed for the Mage Tower. Hartland City had only one Mage Tower. It stood not inside the city, but atop a hill in the outskirts. Dense woods covered the hillside, and when Gret looked up, he could see only the tip of the tower in the distance.
"So this is the 'ancient temple hidden deep in the mountains' sort of thing... It does have a certain charm..."
Gret muttered as he flicked the reins. The chestnut mare beneath him snorted, turned obediently, and started up the mountain road.
The main road out of the city branched off at the foot of the hill, leading straight to the summit. The mountain road was wide and smooth, with deep wagon ruts—clearly, carriages traveled it often. Gret had no trouble making the climb, reaching the summit and the Mage Tower in less than fifteen minutes.
The Mage Tower had "tower" in its name, but it was practically a castle, with a huge area enclosed by walls. Gret dismounted and stepped back outside the walls to look up at it.
"That tower's pretty tall... Three stories, four..."
BOOM!!!
A deafening crash. Birds scattered, horses whinnied, and even the massive Mage Tower shook twice. Smoke billowed from a fourth-floor window, and at the same time, someone shot out with a whoosh, flying through the air in an arc...
Gret:!!!!
That height! That speed! If he hit the ground, he'd break bones at best. At worst, he'd land on his neck and die on the spot!
He took off toward the landing spot. If the guy only broke a leg, he wouldn't need Gret's help. If he broke his neck, there wouldn't be much Gret could do. But if he suffered cardiac arrest, an obstructed airway, or massive bleeding from a fracture, then maybe, if Gret got there fast enough, he could save his life!
Faster!
Faster still!
Gret panted and sprinted with his head down, moving almost as fast as he would while rushing a critically ill patient to the operating room. But with each step, he slowed, until at last he stopped, braced his hands on his knees, and stared up in a daze.
It wasn't that he'd run out of steam. Gret's body was that of a new City Guard recruit, and he had just barely qualified as a Level 1 warrior. The problem was that the person flying out of the window was moving in a way that made Gret feel his sprint was completely unnecessary...
The man flailed his arms and legs, shouting as he followed his arc through the air. At the peak of his flight, he suddenly took something from his pocket and tossed it outward. Then his high-speed trajectory abruptly stopped, and he began drifting gently downward as if he had a parachute.
Gret stood rooted to the spot, holding the reins, his mouth hanging open. The man swayed as he floated down, from three yards above the ground to two, then from two to one. When he looked down and saw Gret, he even smiled at him.
"Eliot!!!"
A furious roar came from the window above the smoke. The man floating in the air shuddered, then somehow stopped drifting. With a thud, he dropped straight down—
"AAAAAAAH!"
"...Uh, can you walk?"
The soot-covered flying man—the one who'd caused the explosion in the Mage Tower and then twisted his ankle on the way down—eventually rode back to the Mage Tower on Gret's little mare.
With the man's introduction, Gret had no trouble meeting the owner of the Mage Tower, the fifth-level mage German Klaus, and handing him the necromancer's letter.
"Gret Nordmark?" German was practically the necromancer's opposite: an enormous fat man. His deep red robe was stretched tight over his belly, which bulged prominently. His dark brown bangs were neatly combed back, and a thick beard ran from his ears down to his jaw, then puffed out and drooped low enough to cover his throat.
At first glance, Gret nearly thought he'd traveled through time again and was looking at someone from a political science textbook.
He stood respectfully to one side. Magister German read the letter in a few quick glances, raised his eyes, and looked Gret over from head to toe.
"Andrew says you want to study Elemental Magic?"
"Yes."
"How much foundation do you have? What level of spells can you cast? Level 1 spells? Level 0 spells?"
"Uh... I can't cast any..."
"Then how much have you read about spell theory? Basic Spells? Magic Pattern Construction? Elemental Introduction? Potions? Don't tell me you can't even read Magic Script?"
"I really can't..."
Gret lowered his head further and further. He knew a little Latin; he'd memorized some drug names while studying medicine. He'd also minored in German, and he used English all the time for journal articles and research papers. But Magic Script? Where was he supposed to have learned that?
Yet not knowing Magic Script meant that he couldn't read most—perhaps even almost all—books on magic. Seriously? After all those years of hard study, had he become illiterate as soon as he crossed into another world?
Seeing that Gret didn't know this or understand that, Magister German furrowed his thick brows again and again. Even with a friend's recommendation, he was beginning to lose patience.
"...Don't tell me you can't even read Common Script?!"
"I can read that!" Gret hurriedly answered, relieved. Thank goodness for his original body's father. Though he'd died young, he'd at least taught his son to read. He'd also left behind a small box of books, which had given Gret the basics of reading—
"And I can use healing magic!"
"Hmm..."
Magister German's expression eased. Knowing healing magic meant Gret had the basic aptitude of a spellcaster. His mental strength, perception, and other fundamentals had to be at least good enough. As for the rest, well, he could make an exception for his friend Lynn's sake...
"Since Andrew wrote to recommend you, you can sit in on classes at the Mage Tower for now. Tuition is ten Gold Coins a month. I'll waive it for you, for Andrew's sake—"
Thank goodness!
Gret secretly breathed a sigh of relief and nodded quickly. Ten Gold Coins a month? He didn't even have a single Silver Coin on him. Wasn't a city guard's salary five Silver Coins a month?
Good thing the fee had been waived. Otherwise, would he have had to go ask the necromancer for a loan?
"Right. You can come to the Mage Tower every day and read the books on the first floor freely, but you're not allowed to copy them or take them away. You can attend my lessons, and if my students, like Eliot, are willing, you can ask them for help too. You'll have to provide your own materials for copying spells, and you can't use the alchemy lab without my permission. We can discuss everything else once you become a Mage Apprentice!"
Thanks to @A Bowl of Fish Ball Porridge for the 200 Qidian Coins tip.
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