The Mages

"Kid, what's going on? This isn't what we agreed on."

Ruby flashed rapidly as an elderly man's robust, powerful voice came from within.

Leon sat in his chariot, listening to the old man's questions from inside the gem. His expression remained calm as he replied, "Sorry, old man. I'm the one who broke our agreement this time. You can blame me all you like."

People in all kinds of clothes knelt on both sides of the chariot. Most were children, still too young to understand what was happening. The few adults among them trembled and broke out in cold sweats whenever they heard the occasional voice from the chariot.

Far ahead of the chariot, hundreds of people—men and women, young and old—were tied to wooden stakes piled high with firewood.

At Leon's wave, the firewood was set alight. The flames rose higher and higher, painting half the sky red. A scorching heat, mixed with the crowd's cries and curses, swept over from afar. Leon caught only snatches of their words before the wind carried them away.

"Old man, I pity these mages too, but they're so unreasonable that I can't find a reason to let them live."

The old man's furious voice came through the call. "So you killed them!"

"I had no choice. They wouldn't submit, and they wouldn't die, so I had to help them repent."

As time passed, Leon could even smell the nauseating scent of roasted meat. He listened to the gem's reproaches until the voice gradually died down, then spoke.

"Honestly, I respect you a great deal. I hope this won't affect our relationship."

The man on the other end could no longer stand Leon's self-centered arrogance. He gave a cold snort and ended the call.

Leon could only sigh. Old people were hard to appease once they got riled up.

He wasn't afraid of the old man. Still, Leon had been the one to break his promise and flip the table, so he didn't mind being scolded. As long as the old man didn't stand in his way, that was all that mattered.

After speaking with Merlin, Leon could no longer hold back. He immediately raised his troops and surrounded the fortified city of Londinium.

After the Age of Gods ended, King Solomon's disciples founded an academy to pass down the mysteries. It became the predecessor of the Mage's Association, and mages established numerous mage cities across the continent.

There was one on the island of Britain: Londinium, the mage city above the Spirit Tomb Albion. At this point, Londinium hadn't yet become the Clock Tower, one of the three branches of the Mage's Association. It was merely a mage city belonging to the Association.

But over the years, mystery had all but disappeared from the continent, and magecraft had declined. The mage cities established by the Association closed one after another under pressure from the opposing Holy Church, and the mages gradually relocated across the sea to Britain.

Next, the mages should have slowly made Britain their base, continually excavating the Spirit Tomb to preserve magecraft and the mages' pride.

But Leon's order to conquer the city abruptly cut short the Clock Tower's development before it had even begun.

Faced with Leon's sudden arrival at the head of a great army, the mages in the city were initially stunned and confused. Then they began to fight back, but in the end, they were no match for a vast army.

Watching the mages' response, Leon laughed to himself. They'd been cut off from the world for so long that they'd grown used to their arrogance. Maybe it had addled their brains. They actually thought they could face an army head-on.

If they really could stand against an army, why hide in dark corners like mice, afraid to show themselves? They would have already openly ruled the world.

Once Leon breached the city, his soldiers dragged the mages out like dead dogs.

Everyone was executed except those who had surrendered from the start and the children who couldn't even reach the height of a cartwheel.

Leon had even chosen a method of execution befitting the medieval atmosphere: burning at the stake.

These mages could look forward to the treatment of future saintesses. They should be thrilled.

When the flames had died down, Leon put away the gem and stood. He looked at the people kneeling on either side of him: the mages who had chosen to surrender, and their children.

Having them witness the executions was also a warning, to keep them from getting any ideas they shouldn't.

He'd heard these people came from mage nobility and had inherited their craft for generations. They were rare talents, so Leon had deliberately spared them. He planned to build a mage faction that obeyed him, both to assist in his future studies of magecraft and to serve as labor when he excavated the Spirit Tomb.

The mages excavating the Spirit Tomb? No way!

He could dig it up himself. That was fine!

"Barthomeloi, that's your name, right?" Leon asked the old man at the front. "From now on, your people will be assigned to the Royal Observatory, under the command of Merlin, the court mage. You'll serve me. Any objections?"

The old man didn't dare raise his head. Trembling, he replied, "We wouldn't dare. We are fortunate that our king has spared us through his magnanimity. We are deeply grateful for his kindness and will serve him with our lives."

As the Mage's Association moved west, the Barthomeloi family had recognized the direction it was heading. They'd seized the opportunity to settle in Britain, hoping to gain a great deal of influence within the Association.

He'd been an insignificant member of a branch family of the Barthomeloi clan. He lacked both talent and force of character, and he knew he wasn't clever. He'd spent his days in mage circles, coasting on his title as a mage noble.

Then, today, disaster had suddenly struck the clan's elites and geniuses.

Meanwhile, the old man had become the head of the illustrious Barthomeloi family simply because he was its most senior member. And because he was the most accomplished mage, Leon had appointed him leader of all the mage families in the area.

The world truly was unpredictable.

It wasn't just the Barthomeloi family. The Mage's Association had probably lost a third of its strength in Europa today.

"Your Majesty, come take a look. Your mount isn't going to make it."

After the executions, Leon heard Merlin's message and hurried to the rear of the army. There, a gray-black dragon, more than ten meters tall, lay sprawled across a huge wagon.

The dragon's eyes were half-closed, and its horns were still small. Its scales were soft, and even the spikes on its claws and wings seemed less sharp than before. Its wings drooped limply, and it looked utterly listless.

When Leon saw his precious dragon in this state, he hurriedly asked, "What happened?"

"This dragon is too young. It was probably away from the Spirit Tomb too long and spent too much time weakened by the lack of Ethereal. It can't recover, so we'll have to send it underground for now and let it heal on its own."

Leon furrowed his brows and pressed, unwilling to give up. "Merlin, what about that amazing magecraft of yours? Can't you think of something?"

"Your Majesty, I know you have high hopes for me, but I really don't have a solution."

Merlin had specifically asked around and had even learned magecraft that could turn a dragon into a horse. But he truly didn't know how to keep a dragon alive when it lacked magical energy. It was like pulling a fish out of water: by its very nature, it couldn't survive.

"Ah, well. If that's the case, send it back to the Spirit Tomb."

Leon sighed. He really had wanted to fly around on the dragon for a bit of fun, but it seemed he'd have to wait for another day.

"Dragon, dragon, grow up quickly. Then you can take me flying again."

"Rrrr..." The young dragon let out a low cry. It was hard to tell whether it understood Leon.

Leon waved, and a squad of soldiers immediately escorted a mage over to send the young dragon back into the Spirit Tomb.

Looking at the ruined fortress city before him, Leon suddenly had an idea.

This place would one day be the famous London, with the Spirit Tomb Albion beneath it. Could he move his capital here too?

It would make exploring and excavating the Spirit Tomb much easier.

"Right. I'll give the order when we get back. We're moving the capital."