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The abrupt question stunned Young Morgan.
But, She soon answered honestly, "My family does not support me in learning magic. Because of that, even the household's consecrated wizards rarely speak to me. But I've always been full of curiosity and longing for magic. So, I could only explore on my own, gathering whatever scraps of magical learning I could find through different means."
As she spoke, Young Morgan began to demonstrate her progress to her makeshift teacher.
She slowly stretched out her hand, and with a gentle flick of her fingertip, a spark of flame ignited out of thin air before quickly extinguishing. Then, with another light wave, the clear river water nearby seemed to come alive, rippling with soft waves before transforming into fine strands that rose into the air and gathered into a stream under her control.
One had to admit, Talent truly mattered. At Morgan's age, many wizards had not yet even experienced their magical awakening and there were even those who had often struggled to control their magic.
But this young witch was different. Not only could she control her magical power, she had even discovered her own methods of manipulating the elements.
A prodigy.
The signs were already clear.
"Very good," Ian praised sincerely.
"There's more, there's more!" Morgan, relieved to hear his compliment, was determined to make her teacher fully recognize her potential.
Magic surged again, and the next moment, the fresh grass on the ground began to wither, crumbling into black ash in the blink of an eye.
This was Dark Magic.
But it was not exactly advanced.
But by no means was this an entry-level magic either. Morgan wielded this spell with far more skill than her earlier tricks, and Ian couldn't help but feel a familiar sense of kinship.
"Good, very good, excellent! You've got a bit of my style!" Ian raised a thumb in approval. He now had a deeper understanding of Morgan's gift for the Dark Arts.
It was only two or three levels below his own.
And don't call that boastful, It was genuine praise. For Ian, Dark Magic was where his talent shone brightest, leaving others far behind in comparison.
"You don't reject Dark Magic?"
Morgan's unease melted away when she saw Ian's reaction. She was curious, after all, in every era, Dark Magic was despised and shunned.
"Heh." Ian chuckled softly while gazing at the young witch before him.
"Of course I don't reject it. Because… I am a Dark Mage myself." He wasn't boasting, merely stating fact. His calm words made Morgan's heart burn with excitement.
So she really had taken a true Master of the Dark Arts as her teacher!
"Then, teacher, will you teach me more Dark Magic?" Truly, like calls to like, this strange bond between master and disciple was proof of their spiritual alignment.
Morgan, too, yearned for Dark Magic.
And it was for no other reason than this: 'Dark Magic was powerful.'
In her eyes, it promised far greater prospects than White Magic ever could.
"Let's start with something simple. The spell you wanted to learn last night, the most basic spell, and one that's essential when traveling the world."
Ian spoke gently, raising his forefinger once more.
At the same time, Morgan felt a chill of dread pierce her heart.
"Feel this killing intent, savor its allure. This is, Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse." Ian's quiet words came as his fingertip pressed once again against Morgan's brow.
Beside the murmuring brook.
The fish swam, the birds sang as the teacher bestowed upon his apprentice the very first spell.
The spell that begins the story.
…
On the other side of the castle.
Duke Gorlois of Tintagel, ruler of Cornwall, sat within his lavishly decorated study, brows knitted as he toyed with a ring set with a dazzling gemstone.
The windows of this study were half-shuttered, the sunlight filtering through the fine curtains into scattered beams of light and shadow, an elegant contrast to the heavy atmosphere within.
"A letter written just to praise my wife, what exactly does Uther Pendragon mean by that?"
Seated in the high-backed chair of his study, Gorlois raised a glass of red wine, his gaze drifting past the window toward the distant mountains, or perhaps toward the royal city itself. The study was opulently arranged: portraits of ancestors hung upon the walls, while the shelves were filled with priceless tomes and works of art.
Yet, he had no mind to admire them. His brow furrowed slightly, as though he were deep in thought. At that moment, a sudden shadow appeared against the wall.
It blotted out the sunlight streaming into the room. Gorlois, however, showed no alarm, only a slight surprise as he glanced toward the figure hidden within the darkness.
"Business?" he asked calmly.
The figure in the shadows answered: "Your daughter, Lady Morgan, brought back three men last night. As for her knights, she forced them to drink a memory-erasing potion."
The voice was low and indistinct, betraying neither male nor female. Softly, it reported how Lady Morgan had brought Ian and the other two men back, along with the unfortunate fate of the knights stripped of their memories.
The duke was silent for a moment after hearing this, then spoke with a touch of emotion in his tone: "My daughter, Morgan… to have matured so early, already knowing how to keep male companions at such a young age, this truly is beyond my expectations. It seems it is time to assign someone to give her the proper, targeted education."
One had to admit, his was perhaps a father far too liberal. At these words, the shadowed figure fell into heavy silence. He truly could not comprehend why the duke would draw such a conclusion.
'Was his brain broken?'
'She was just a little girl!'
"And these three men, what is their background?" Gorlois swirled the goblet of red wine in his hand, smiling for a moment before his expression hardened, becoming solemn.
Like a man preparing for a thorough background check.
"Your Grace, all three of them are wizards." The voice in the shadows was unusually grave.
Duke Gorlois frowned deeply at the reply.
"She truly found real wizards?" His eyes flashed with a rare gravity. Though a duke wielding vast power and wealth, he well knew that anything concerning wizards was never trivial. Their magic far surpassed that of ordinary men, and even the slightest misstep could bring disastrous consequences.
"Yes, my lord. All three are of unknown origin, with extremely powerful magic. Among them, a boy barely past ten years of age made even me feel a chill of fear."
There was a distinct tremor in the shadowed voice.
Those words made Duke Gorlois sit up straight, unable to remain composed.
"Are they powerful wizards?" His voice was filled with uncertainty and alarm.
"They are stronger than you could possibly imagine," The shadowed figure replied with certainty.
This made Duke Glorias' expression shift slightly. He set down the red goblet in his hand, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the table.
"I need to know their background and their purpose in approaching Morgan."
The Duke could not help but worry.
Given the current situation, what he feared most was that someone with ulterior motives would get close to his family.
"This is not something we can investigate." The figure in the shadows actually refused the Duke's order, his voice carrying a grave weight.
"You are not a wizard, Your Grace, you don't understand the power of those wizards. Our organization may have a long-standing cooperative relationship with you, but we are not your private army. We will not throw away our lives for your personal goals. Such wizards are fully capable of killing me, and even threatening the organization that stands behind me."
The voice in the shadows was serious as it spoke and it was utterly resolute.
But, hearing his response, Duke Glorias' expression did not change.
As though he had already expected this outcome.
"I will pay more. A great deal more. According to the usual terms you people demand." He tapped the table once again, his tone carrying an almost obscene arrogance of wealth.
At those words, at the mention of "more money," the figure in the shadows immediately nodded, his attitude shifting a full three hundred and sixty-five degrees. His voice grew respectful once again.
"Glory to you, magnificent Duke. Then I shall wield the power granted by the fairy tales themselves, and under the witness of the Eternal Raven, I will fulfill the Quest you command, eliminate those three foreign wizards, and guard Cornwall's most dazzling jewel!" The voice in the shadows grew firm once more, as if brimming with confidence, and it was completely unlike his earlier fear of powerful wizards.
"Heh."
Duke Glorias was clearly unfazed. He watched as the shadow disappeared from his chamber, his hand once more playing with the gem-encrusted ring.
"Soul Hall… such a strange organization. Why are they so obsessed with hoarding gold and jewels?" His eyes carried a trace of doubt and contemplation.
His thoughts drifted back to the first time he encountered the organization.
That was the day Morgan was born.
Some mysterious wizards had come to his door, claiming to be the Soul Hall hidden within fairy tales. They declared that Morgan bore the mark of a great witch and that she required their protection.
Duke Glorias had no idea what was wrong with these wizards' heads. But one thing he did understand: so long as he paid them, they would complete almost any Quest.
As for why they loved money so much, These wizards only gave a single answer: "The Lord likes shiny things."
Glorias did not believe them. He had met many clerics in his lifetime, But he had never once heard of any god with such a pragmatic hobby.
The Duke was convinced there was a deeper meaning behind it. Just like how, every year, this organization would send him a fine green hat. He suspected there was some hidden significance behind that "warm in winter, cool in summer" hat as well.
(End of chapter)