Instead of talking or wasting time, Grievous went straight to the point and gave the man a mental order to take him to the head of the real branch in the city.
The bartender, a second-rank magician, felt an undeniable pull in his mind. Though his pride as a magician urged him to resist, the command was too strong. His eyes glazed for a moment, then cleared as he nodded calmly and began to move.
Grievous followed silently, his boots barely making a sound on the worn wooden floor. The air in the bar was thick with the scent of stale ale and faint smoke. The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that danced with every step.
'According to the information from the child's memory, this bartender is a second-rank magician in the early stage,' Grievous thought with precision. 'This simply means that I can easily use my abilities on someone of that rank without causing an adverse reaction. Of course, I can use it on the father, and he is a late stage second rank. So that was a no-brainer. But just to make sure that there are no individual differences.'
The bartender moved with practiced ease, leading him through a narrow hallway behind the bar. The walls were lined with dusty bottles and old trinkets, relics of a past long forgotten by most patrons.
They reached a seemingly solid wall adjacent to the bar. The bartender paused, then calmly repeated the incantation: "Rida Nihari, Vicious Leganute."
Slowly, the wall began to shift, sliding open as if it were a door. A faint creak echoed in the silence.
Grievous peered inside, his sharp eyes scanning the dim interior. Without hesitation, he cast a quick search spell to sense any magical presence.
Nothing.
No auras, no faint pulses. It was as if the room was a void, or those inside had mastered the art of concealment.
'It seems that those inside are strong,' he thought, narrowing his eyes.
The bartender stepped inside, and Grievous followed silently. The wall slid shut behind them with a soft thud, sealing them in.
What lay before him was an austere chamber. A single wooden table stood in the center, its surface scarred by time and use. A simple chair faced the entrance.
On it sat an old woman, her face etched with wrinkles that spoke of countless battles fought within the magical realm. Candlelight flickered, casting a soft glow on her silver hair.
Her eyes snapped up at the sudden intrusion, sharp and wary.
Instead of greeting him, she instinctively launched an attack, a sharp burst of magical energy aimed straight at Grievous.
But the strike faltered midair.
Her thoughts slowed, her reflexes betrayed by an invisible hand tightening around her mind. She struggled, but her body refused to respond with the speed required.
Grievous stepped forward calmly, as if approaching an old friend.
He reached out with his mind, absorbing the memories of the woman before him.
'So a late stage rank three mage?' he mused internally. 'It's a little difficult but not impossible. This seems to be my limit now.'
He sifted through her memories like pages of a book, each one revealing years of experience and secrets.
'As long as the person I'm trying to manipulate is a magician of the late stage of the third rank and below, I won't have any problems. The subdivisions are three easy stages: early, middle, late. And all of them from the third rank and below are weak enough to the point I can control their minds.'
The memories flooded his consciousness, yet Grievous felt no pain or fatigue. He had been through this process before, and with his mind fortified, the strain was minimal.
'It's not painful,' he thought, 'since I've been through it before, and with my mind supported, there's no adverse effect on me.'
His eyes met hers again, now devoid of resistance.
He spoke mentally, delivering a single command.
"Bring all possible spells for the following elements: Shadow, Gluttony, Darkness, and Space."
He paused, ensuring the weight of his order settled in.
"Rank does not matter. Just bring everything. You have one week."
The old woman nodded slowly, her expression unreadable.
Grievous turned to leave, but before he stepped away, he wiped their memories clean. The two sat frozen, unaware of what had just transpired.
He paused in the doorway, reflecting on what he had learned.
'So she is being punished,' he thought quietly. 'She was sent to such a remote place despite her high rank in the kingdom as a mage.'
He studied her face once more. Despite her exile, there was undeniable strength and wisdom in her eyes.
'But the advantage is that she is from the old people in the organization,' he whispered to himself, 'so she will get most of the information needed.'
The wall slid open again at his mental command, revealing the bar behind him.
Grievous stepped out, the noise of the city greeting him like an old, familiar friend.
'Fortunately, she has an excellent blacksmith in the city next to Lord Hyde's estate,' he thought, already planning his next move.
'I think I should go and have him make a casting booster and a sword in the form of a crutch.'
He imagined the weapon in his mind, a sleek blade doubling as a walking aid, perfect for deceptive combat.
'Maybe a sword or another weapon,' he thought, considering possibilities.
The night air was cool against his skin as he started to head home.
His mind raced with strategies and contingencies. Every piece on the board mattered.
Grievous moved with purpose, the city's flickering lights casting long shadows behind him.