Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 148 - 141 Irene’s Story
The slender gentleman strolled along the cobblestone path, his steps light, the tapping of his cane on the stone, as if he were playing a lute. Clothed in a silk-lined coat layered over a woolen outer garment, he withdrew a white glove and stuffed the meter-long cane into the palm-sized pocket.
He had arrived.
Tipping his hat to the square and long stone bricks beneath him, he knocked on the nanmu door.
The footsteps, accompanied by the sound of chainmail colliding, suggested an iron-armored person opening the door for himself.
Reed’s voice emanated from within his iron helmet, dull like the breathing of a slumbering giant.
"You’re late, Irene, after the time you’ve appointed."
Irene stood still to adjust his round hat, caressing its white feather as he apologized, "Sorry, Reed, to have troubled you to come out and open the door for me."
Not until Irene had fully entered the hallway did Reed, gripping the delicate handle that resembled a teacup’s, slam the door shut with force. This was not due to any ill temper, but simply his natural strength. "I couldn’t be more comfortable with this, as you know, I don’t get along with those prattling old masters inside."
Irene patted his rough companion’s shoulder plates and said with a chuckle, "Don’t be harsh, Reed; if those gentlemen knew that Dreya’s founder called them old masters, they would likely die of shame in their graves."
This joke clearly amused Reed, his iron armor emitting a peculiar tremor, and the serious gentleman decided to change the subject, "You’re late, which is unusual for someone as punctual as you."
"I had some personal matters to attend to. I’ve taken care of them now."
Flipping back the thick, red curtains, Irene saw those old masters.
The "Great Master" dressed in dark green commanded everyone’s attention, standing on the center table with one foot propped on a chair and one arm raised in the air, as if capturing the poetic haze of a dream, or the fleeting sparkle of a shooting star. But in truth, his greatest skill was grasping vines, so he merely told a classic, crude joke instead. Classics are timeless in their vulgarity, and with the applause and cheers from the audience, it was a happy ending, wasn’t it?
Echel descended like a victorious general, giving Irene an embracing welcome.
"My dear friend, your arrival has sweetened the air considerably."
"Are all Rangers as smooth-tongued as you, Echel?"
"Of course, to survive, every Livisian Ranger must master at least four bird languages, with sparrow being compulsory – those little creatures are everywhere."
Irene didn’t know how to respond, but the ever-enthusiastic Echel resolved his problem with a question.
"You’re late, Irene; you’ve put our friendship to the test."
Irene decided to play along with the old drama king.
"I’m very sorry, Echel, how should I make amends for our friendship?"
"Ha! I’ve won!" Echel suddenly roared, taking Irene somewhat aback, as he turned to high-five everyone and swept a large pile of money bags into his pouch from the long table, "I’ve won the bet; I am the Gambling King!"
Irene’s face was streaked with black lines, "What did you bet, and it’s even related to me."
"Your story, Irene. As the creator of Twilight Memories, you’ve never shared your own story, you haven’t even told us about your family, we’ve never heard of the Morocoy nation. You should know, Twilight Memories is practically a gathering of Death Royalty from all kingdoms. Yet, you remain as mysterious to us as you were at the beginning. Twilight Memories is our shelter, Irene, we are grateful to you, we wish to understand you better," Echel spoke with sincerity and earnestness, but then with a twist in his tone, "You wouldn’t let your old friend lose all his betting money, would you?"
Irene’s palms were folded together, and the main hall was so quiet at that moment you could hear a pin drop.
"My story is not as interesting as you think. If you don’t mind a bit of boredom, I don’t mind sharing," Irene said.
"You have never heard of the Morocoy name because the name itself carries a secret knowledge. Our nation is the same, more like a mystical state organization than a nation formed by mages. This nation broke apart ten years ago, because... the last king felt... managing the nation was a waste of his magic research time, so, the nation dissolved, and the king ran away with the capital city."
Thud, a loud noise drew everyone’s attention. Reed had gotten up from the ground; the incredibly shocking news had caused this battle-hardened warrior to flip over in the gutter. The others didn’t blame Reed, they were equally astonished, but unconsciously, their reverence for the mysterious leader diminished significantly.
"I was one of the great mages of such a nation. I’ve lived in this world for about three hundred years as a living being. As for the reason behind my long life, that’s another story. When my lifespan was nearing its end, I had a premonition of all this and made arrangements for my descendants, then entered the tomb I had built for myself earlier, to be buried alongside my long-sleeping wife. The only burial item with me was my personal notebook from when I started on the path of mystery, it was like a duplicate of my life."
"I fell into eternal rest, or so I thought. In fact, I’ve been a Lich for a while, until Mr. Andrey, the dean, revived my consciousness and invited me to join."
"The most troublesome thing for me is probably my cursed grandson," Irene continued.
"I had sealed my tomb, perhaps it was the revived me that destroyed it, leading to lapses in the magic mechanisms. When I regained consciousness and revisited my old place, I found my tomb had turned into ruins. My beloved Quray lay shattered on the ground, some parts even missing. The fury of my wife’s desecration intensified my obsessive thoughts, and I planned to severely punish the fool who disturbed Quray’s rest. It was not complicated for me, with my high-level magic skills, I easily restored the magic images from that time."
"My grandson, a very magically talented person. I hadn’t informed him of my death. I watched in the magic images, how that kid, not even eight, noticed the hidden magic seals and blew them up with his half-baked magic power."
"Irene, are you suggesting that your grandson, out of curiosity, blew up his grandparents’ grave?"
"Is there a problem?" Irene’s eyes were filled with murderous intent.
"No, no, that kid is too unfilial, he should be taught a good lesson."
"He’s gone missing." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮
"What??? How could he be lost???"
"The blast knocked him out, and at the time, it was precisely when the king ran away with the capital city. He might have sneaked out, so my son didn’t notice his disappearance."
"So your grandson is now wandering the streets, alive or dead unknown??!!"
"He’s still alive, that is the only thing I am certain of. As for the hardships he’s facing outside, for a boy, suffering a bit is good, especially since he’s the grandson who blew up his ancestors’ grave."
"What you’re saying, Irene, about the money I won, how about we split it, I feel a bit sorry for you. I’ll take good care of you in the future, brother."
Irene glanced at him and spit out a refined word, infused with infinite implications.
"Scram."
