Quentin's right hand swept across the parchment. Another faint violet glow enveloped it. Instantly, under the swirling violet light, lines of text appeared. Darius read them aloud, his voice tinged with excitement: "By decree: Quentin Shaw, Violet First-Tier Lute Magus, is appointed Head of the Arcadia Mage Guild. Ah! You are a Lute Magus?" This time, the shock on Darius and Piero's faces transformed into sheer disbelief.
Lute Magi, a branch of Mental Magi, used musical instruments to cast spells. They were considered the most noble, yet simultaneously the most useless, mages on the continent. Lute Magi rarely surpassed Yellow-Rank proficiency, serving only to provide minor morale boosts on battlefields. Historically, only daughters of major nobles or princesses of various kingdoms showed interest in learning this noble yet impractical magic. Yet, here was this elder mage, claiming to be a Violet-Rank Lute Magus? Darius could scarcely believe his eyes. However, the ancient, silvery symbol encircled by a six-pointed star in the scroll's bottom right corner unmistakably represented the Illusion Pagoda of the Sanctum's Seven Pagodas. Clearly, this mage named Quentin Shaw had passed the Illusion Pagoda's trials before arriving. And the violet magical energy he released felt undeniably real.
A look of reminiscence flickered across Quentin Shaw's aged face. He turned slightly towards the northwest. The experiences on the Illusion Pagoda remained unforgettable – that was true magic!
Darius quickly regained his composure. A Sanctum decree couldn't be forged. He respectfully rolled up the parchment and handed it back to Quentin. "Darius, accompanied by Piero, greets the Guild Master."
Quentin took back the scroll. "How many mages remain in Arcadia now?"
Hearing this question, Darius couldn't help but reveal a bitter expression. "Under myself, Arcadia possesses one Cyan-Rank Magus, three Green-Rank Archmagi, twenty-four Yellow-Rank Advanced Mages, sixty-seven Orange-Rank Intermediate Mages, and two hundred and thirteen Crimson-Rank Mages. Most are enlisted in the military. Only about a dozen remain at the guild."
A trace of faint surprise crossed Quentin's face. "So few? Though magical cultivation is a lengthy process, with Arcadia's population in the tens of millions, how can there be only three hundred mages? I recall mages in other kingdoms weren't this scarce!"
Darius sighed. "It wasn't always this few. Our Arcadia Kingdom was once famous for producing Fire Mages. But now, the nation's strength wanes daily. Mages with any talent flock to the neighboring empires. Those willing to stay... well... are naturally fewer. But now that you are here, it will be better. You are a Violet Grand Magus! Arcadia hasn't seen a Violet-Rank powerhouse for centuries. I believe, under your leadership, Arcadia's Mage Guild will surely grow strong again." Though not young himself, Darius spoke with rising excitement, his gaze towards Quentin bordering on fanaticism.
Just then, a melodious and elegant voice sounded from outside. "Is Magus Darius present?"
Darius started, a smile replacing his expression. Apologizing briefly to Quentin, he hurried out. Moments later, a young woman followed Darius back into the hall.
The woman was extremely beautiful. Her long black hair framed a fair face. A jade-green gown draped her figure. Her face, slightly plump, did nothing to diminish her noble aura. Whether walking or standing, she gave an impression of perfect uprightness, as if her slender waist could never bend. Cradled in her arms was a swaddled bundle. Gentle breathing sounds came from within, indicating the infant was fast asleep.
Seeing this woman, Quentin's eyes lit up. His half-squinted eyes opened fully, sharp glints flashing within.
The woman immediately sensed his intense gaze. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly. A faint cyan light flashed deep within her eyes as she looked back at Quentin. The moment their gazes met, the light in her eyes instantly became unfocused. When clarity returned, her face paled dramatically. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on the swaddled bundle.
Darius's thoughts were still somewhat scattered, so he missed this exchange. He addressed the woman, "Maya, where's Chong? Why isn't he with you? Haven't you just passed your confinement period?"
Maya instinctively took a half-step sideways, forcing a smile. "He? He's been diligently practicing his battle aura recently, so I came alone. Magus, our child has passed his first month. May I trouble you to grant him your blessing?" A Mage's Blessing was the best protection for a newborn. The higher the mage's rank, the healthier the blessed infant would become, irrespective of magical affinity.
Darius laughed heartily, readily agreeing. "No problem at all! Didn't I promise long ago that once your child was born, I would certainly bless him? Ah, yes, let me introduce you. This is the guild's new Master, Quentin Shaw, from the Sanctum." Though he'd encountered an acquaintance, he hadn't forgotten the new Master beside him.
Maya, seemingly still unsettled by Quentin's earlier gaze, offered only a perfunctory curtsy. "Praise the Sanctum. Greetings, Master."
Quentin was about to speak when a loud, clear infant wail erupted from the swaddling clothes. A pair of lotus-root-like arms emerged, waving gently as if struggling to break free from the mother's embrace.
Quentin's words caught in his throat. He saw the infant's tiny hands clearly. Those small, tender hands each had only four fingers – no little fingers on either hand. For the first time since arriving at the Mage Guild, his expression showed significant turmoil, startling everyone present.
He lunged forward with a speed unbefitting a mage, more like a warrior. In a flash, Quentin was before Maya, his aged face flushed with excitement, trembling hands reaching towards the pair of delicate, crystal-white hands shimmering like spring onions.
"What are you doing?" Maya hissed sharply. Her feet executed two strange, swift steps backward. Quentin moved swiftly, but his hands grasped only air.
He didn't pursue. His gaze remained fixed on the pair of pink, tender hands. He stood there dazed, his raised hands frozen mid-air. "Eight fingers... born with eight fingers... there truly are people born with eight fingers! A genius! This is an absolute genius!"
Darius, startled by the scene, hurriedly stepped between Maya and Quentin, his voice anxious. "Don't misunderstand! Don't misunderstand! Master Quentin Shaw, you... what are you..."
Quentin Shaw, after all, was a newly ascended Grand Magus. His expression gradually calmed. He lowered his head, gazing thoughtfully at the mithril-inlaid hexagram on the floor. After a moment, a wild glee flashed in his eyes. He clapped his hands together like a delighted child. "Praise the Sanctum! Excellent! So be it."
He looked up, meeting Maya's wary yet curious gaze. Quentin smiled faintly. Admittedly, despite his wrinkles, his meticulous attire and grooming lent him considerable dignity. "Miss Maya, you've come today seeking a Mage's Blessing for your child, correct?"
Maya nodded reflexively.
Quentin shifted his gaze to Darius beside him. "In that case, allow me to bestow the blessing upon this child."