The Time for the Performance Has Come!

The next morning, Aaron went out with his uncle Lothair. His uncle was heading to the Stables for work, while Aaron planned to visit Suzail's Royal Library to look up information about spellcasters.

Breakfast consisted of hot goat's milk, bacon-and-egg sandwiches, and two sausages. The family baker had risen even earlier than Aaron and the others to bake the day's bread.

As soon as he left the house, Aaron noticed the mansion next door. The main doors of the Woolf residence stood wide open, and several people were moving furniture out.

"Come on, time is money, my friends."

"Careful! Don't damage anything!"

"Hey, take it easy! Watch what you're doing, you idiot."

"By Gond, these are all good things."

Amid the commotion, piece after piece of furniture was carried out of the Woolf mansion. A young nobleman of about twenty-five or twenty-six stood at the doorway. He had a pale, haggard face, wore a shirt and robe, and had a completely bald head. He stared blankly as the furniture and memorabilia were carried out and loaded onto wagons.

"That's... Yarrow?" Aaron recognized his neighbor at a glance. The Viscount frowned and asked his uncle, "Did he really get divorced after all?"

"Yes. His wife insisted on divorcing him, and... you know, Aaron, Yarrow and his family don't have a very good reputation right now. The Royal House didn't want to offend the Church of the Mysterious Lady over this. So unlike you, the Royal House only allowed him to retain a Knight title." Lothair sighed. "Yarrow decided to sell this house, leave Suzail, and return to his Knight fief in the countryside."

After chatting for a few moments, the man standing at the neighboring doorway noticed uncle and nephew as well. He forced a smile and waved in greeting before turning his attention back to his own affairs.

Yarrow Woolf, a son of Baron Woolf, and a Paladin of the Church of Helm, God of Guardians.

Yes, Yarrow was a Paladin.

Paladins were a rather special profession. They resembled Clerics in some ways, but their power came more from faith in their own oaths than from a Deity. They were also somewhat like warriors, yet unlike warriors, Paladins possessed a certain degree of spellcasting ability.

The vast majority of Paladins swore to uphold reason and justice, to stand with all the goodness in the world against the darkness that constantly encroached upon it, and to hunt down every evil lurking in the shadows.

Therefore, Paladins should have been a respected profession with considerable status in the society of the Realms.

But in reality, that wasn't the case.

"There was supposedly a noble young lady in Baldur's Gate who adored Paladins. Every day, her work consisted of writing praises about Paladins. On weekends, she would specifically visit the temple of the Three Gods of Justice to attend the Paladin oath-taking ceremonies organized by the Clerics. Even during afternoon tea, she would chat with other noble young ladies about stories of Paladins.

"A Paladin from the outskirts heard about this. He didn't even have time to change his armor before taking a carriage to the Upper City. He stuck his head through the estate's fence and shouted, 'Dear lady, your Paladin has arrived!'

"As soon as the noble young lady saw the Paladin, she looked utterly disgusted and immediately ordered her servants to drive him away.

"The Paladin left sadly. From this, it was clear that the noble young lady didn't truly like Paladins. She only liked the Paladins she described with her own lips."

—A joke from the Realms

This joke reflected the awkward position of Paladins in the Realms. People respected and revered them, but they didn't want to become them.

Just like that noble young lady, people might like Paladins, but they certainly wouldn't marry one.

According to authoritative statistics from Candlekeep scholars, Paladins were the people Realms women least wanted to marry.

The Salian and Woolf families had been close friends for generations. Otherwise, the two boys wouldn't have been given such similar names—Aaron and Yarrow. Yet after the elders of both families died in battle, the treatment they received was completely different.

Yarrow had also failed to inherit his father's Baron title because, as a Paladin of the Church of Helm, he had participated in a special military operation to suppress riots during the Time of Troubles.

The targets of his suppression had been the Cormyr War Wizards who had rioted over the death of the Goddess of Magic.

That was entirely different from Aaron's father sacrificing his life for the country.

Moreover, Yarrow had clashed with followers of the Goddess of Magic in the streets more than once. The two sides had already hated each other because of the fall of the Second Goddess of Magic. Thus, when Azoun IV, moved by Aaron's father's loyalty and courage, specially allowed the Viscount title to be passed down for one additional generation, the Woolf family was repeatedly appealed against by the Church of the Goddess of Magic. Under the collective opposition of more than half the nobles and nearly all the War Wizards, they were allowed to retain only a Knight title.

To make matters worse, his wife had also filed for divorce. In the first place, they had married on the assumption that Yarrow would inherit his father's Baron title.

What a miserable man. Aaron smiled bitterly and shook his head.

This also demonstrated the awkward position of the Church of Helm. Because Helm had caused the death of the Goddess of Magic, his relationship with the good-aligned Deities had fallen to rock bottom.

Helm, that cold stone, hadn't had many friends to begin with.

That was why choosing the right boss was important. It was even more crucial when choosing a spouse.

Aaron pondered his own affairs as he reached the street corner. He said goodbye to his uncle and headed alone toward the Royal Library.

After the Time of Troubles and the Goblin War, followed by Azoun IV's death in battle, Suzail was clearly no longer as prosperous as it had once been. When the kingdom's northern gateway, Arabel, fell to the Orcs under the command of that Great Wyrm Red Dragon, the people of Arabel could only come to Suzail to make a living. The nobles might still find decent places to live, but the refugees could only lodge in inns or survive in the streets and alleys.

But this was also normal throughout the Realms. When someone approached Aaron to beg for money, he gripped his sword hilt and gestured for them to move aside. He knew that every coin he gave would only become a tool for that man to buy alcohol. He wasn't about to do something so foolish.

If he wanted to give alms, he would do so through the Church of the Lady of Silver. Just as when he had given a large box of spices to the Cleric lady, Eleanor had used those spices to solve the food and lodging problems of at least dozens of people.

Yet even in such a relatively chaotic situation, Suzail—and indeed all of Cormyr—was still a remarkably wealthy country.

For one thing, when Aaron passed through the market, he paid special attention to the prices of several key goods.

Wheat cost one copper coin per pound, edible coarse salt cost five copper coins per pound, barley beer cost four copper coins per cup, and pork ribs cost three silver coins each.

The market's prices remained stable and supplies stayed plentiful. This showed that Cormyr still possessed tremendous vitality. The country merely needed some time to recover from the calamity.

The former Aaron had been extremely dissatisfied with Princess Regent Alusair Obarskyr. The reason was not difficult to understand. When the Obarskyr lapdogs—the Queen's Blade—could freely arrest, investigate, and interrogate anyone, any normal person would feel dissatisfied, let alone a noble like Aaron.

Moreover, judging from what had happened to Yarrow next door, the Royal House was deliberately taking advantage of the series of calamities to reclaim noble titles. That was certainly not good news.

But the current Aaron felt that perhaps the Princess Regent wasn't quite so detestable after all.

When the country's laws and order had collapsed, wasn't that precisely when it needed a strong and powerful leader like the Princess Regent?

After Azoun IV died in battle, if the Iron Princess hadn't decisively taken power and placed Cormyr under martial law, Aaron didn't dare imagine how chaotic things would have become. Never mind the wheat costing one copper coin per pound and coarse salt costing five.

It was just that he still couldn't determine what Alusair really thought of him.

Aaron walked along while thinking. Before long, he arrived at the Royal Library.

The Royal Library, situated at the other end of the palace, remained grand and dazzling. Unlike the buildings throughout the city, which had been haphazardly built higher and higher, the Royal Library had been designed strictly according to the blueprints provided by the Elves. Every building that made up the library was engraved with mysterious magic arrays. They stood one beside another, magical power permeating the library. Every corner displayed the former glory of the Elven Empire and the current glory of Cormyr.

In the corridors, courtyards, and gardens, monument after monument recounted the great deeds of those who had come before. The statues standing among the violet flowers were all protagonists of legendary epics in Cormyr's history. Every wall bore the crest of a noble family. The renowned Cormyr War Wizard corps was famous throughout the Realms and regarded the library as its holy ground. After the War Wizards grew old and withdrew from the battlefield, they continuously donated their wealth, books, and knowledge to the library.

Many War Wizards yearned to leave their names in some corner of the Royal Library. Yet such an honor could only be granted to outstanding individuals. Only the kingdom's heroes, the renowned figures who had left a vivid mark on Cormyr's history, were qualified to have statues of their own.

Heroes were immortal!

Aaron silently saluted the statues. Heroes deserved respect.

Who didn't dream of having a statue erected in their hometown?

The magnificent library stood at the center of the complex, with the War Wizard Academy right beside it. Laurel, Purple Dragon, and Obarskyr Royal House crests decorated everything, watching over the distant horizon.

A retired War Wizard sat at the entrance. He appeared quite old, with gray hair at his temples. A cane rested beside him, while his attention was almost entirely focused on the enormous tome before him.

"Sir, I'd like to consult some books about spellcasting." Aaron interrupted his thoughts. "Here's my proof."

The War Wizard impatiently lifted his head from the tome. But when he saw that it was a handsome young nobleman with an exceptionally fine appearance, he couldn't help feeling somewhat favorable toward him. Aaron was also very polite, so he reached out and took the scroll of parchment, glancing at it casually. "Second floor. The shelves on the right. Browse whatever you like, but you can't take anything away. If you can't find a book you want to read, come back and ask me."

"Thank you. What about books on Deities?" Aaron continued asking.

"Third floor, the shelves on the left. Go to the end and turn right. Those shelves... Oh, so you're a child of the Salian family." The War Wizard tilted his head downward and peered at Aaron over the top of his thick spectacles, wondering, Was this kid always so handsome?

"Take this. You won't need to show proof next time you come in." Without moving, the War Wizard caused a card made of special material to fly out of a drawer in the cabinet behind him and land in front of Aaron.

Mage Hand really is convenient. Aaron took the card and thought this to himself.

"Thank you." Aaron took the card and was about to leave.

"Read your books properly. Don't imitate those fellows over there." The War Wizard seemed to genuinely like Aaron, so he added, "They annoy me whenever I see them."

Several young men were chatting not far away, on the only route upstairs. As Aaron approached, their conversation drifted into his ears.

"Yes, yes, Sharp, well done. You deserve such an honor."

"We have to make those people understand that they didn't choose the right person."

"You're amazing, brother. The Lord of War must have noticed your bravery!"

"Let's do it again, buddy. Do even better this time. We can do it."

The leader had a crew cut and was somewhat taller and more muscular than Aaron. His sturdy arms, round eyes, and broad, flat nose were especially distinctive.

"Well, well, isn't this the last surviving member of the Salian family? Brother, are you doing all right?" The man shot a glance at several of his subordinates. They immediately spread out and blocked Aaron's path upstairs.

"About average. How about you, brother?" Aaron didn't want to waste words on this man. Time was money.

The man was named Sharp. Like Aaron, he was a Purple Dragon recruit, but he didn't possess a high noble title—only a Knight title. He had long been displeased that Aaron received eight hundred Golden Lions in annual pay without doing anything.

"I feel great, buddy. The God of War is blessing me!" Sharp continued blocking Aaron's way. "We're discussing recent events—like how I completed my mission while you suffered a crushing defeat."

"Hahahaha!"

"Oh, stop, Sharp. If you keep going, our Salian brother is going to cry."

"Waaah, waaah, Daddy! Mommy! Why did you abandon me?"

"Why don't you share your experience with us, Lord Salian? How did you flee back to Suzail with your tail between your legs under the enemy's clubs?"

Sharp's companions all began jeering together.

"You're very amusing, darling." Aaron raised an eyebrow. "But I don't have time right now. See you later, brother."

"Hey—don't leave!" Sharp moved sideways and blocked Aaron again, grabbing him by the arm. "We're talking to you, buddy. Is this how your family taught you manners? Hm? Ignoring my sincere questions?"

"Oh, heavens, heavens! Without your parents to restrain you, you can act this arrogantly?" Sharp pretended to shout toward the people around them. "Look, he's bullying me!"

"This is why we don't like you, Lord Salian. You're so obnoxious~"

"Give him a little taste of his own medicine, Sharp~"

"Make some noise, make some noise~"

Several attendants followed behind Sharp, jeering and refusing to let Aaron go upstairs.

"All right, Lord Salian. We're not unreasonable people. Just tell me this." Sharp enthusiastically seized Aaron's arm and asked with an earnest expression, "Do you really feel at ease using those eight hundred Golden Lions a year that you got by sacrificing your biological parents and having your aunt roll around at the entrance to the Royal Court?"

Aaron smiled when he heard this. He swept his gaze around, then gestured for Sharp to follow him to a table a few steps away. "Want to hear it? Come on, come on. Stick your head over here and I'll tell you."

Sharp immediately leaned his head over.

Still smiling, Aaron waited until the distance was right. Then he casually grabbed the glass wine bottle from the table and smashed it against Sharp's forehead!

"Bang!"

The bottle shattered with a loud crash. Apple wine mixed with blood and streamed down Sharp's crew-cut head.

Clutching his head, the Purple Dragon recruit Sharp let out a terrible scream.

"AAAAAAAH!"

There, there, there. Stick your head over and you get it!