Chapter 5: The Oak Tavern

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Chapter 5: The Oak Tavern

Charlie awoke from meditation. No, more accurately, he awoke from the unconsciousness that had followed his extreme meditation and stared blankly at the shards of glass scattered across the floor.

He raised a hand to his forehead. He vaguely remembered stopping after his fifth attempt at meditation, and after that, he remembered nothing.

In those five attempts, he hadn’t once managed to truly transform the magic elements into the shape of a dragon, not even a stick-figure version. But at least he had figured out where his limits lay.

The feeling of gradually taking control of his own destiny again stirred his senses, filling his soul with a hint of excitement and a shiver of exhilaration.

But could someone tell him how the window had broken? Dragons didn’t live on glass.

The squirrel had long since fled the scene of the crime, while Ben’s bones had rolled back under the bed with a rumble, retreating into self-isolation. There was no way he was going to tell Charlie that he had just played ping-pong with a squirrel in here.

“Ben?” Charlie felt the blanket covering him. His thoughts stirred, and he turned to look beneath the bed.

Ben rolled a little farther away and tried to escape through the other side of the bed.

Charlie looked toward the other side and spotted the pinecone lying on the floor. What else was there to understand? He couldn’t help laughing, but he wasn’t angry. He folded up the blanket and glanced outside, only to discover that the sun was already close to setting.

“Is it that late…?” he murmured.

His top priority now was to fix the window.

There was no glass at home, so Charlie would have to go to the Beagle Workshop one street away and buy a replacement pane. As for hiring someone to repair it, he wasn’t considering that option for now. At least for the time being, he didn’t want to casually let outsiders into Pinecone Tower.

The late spring cold spell had yet to end, so Charlie put on a black velvet robe. Near the shoulder was a decorative clasp made of solid gold. It was something the original owner had brought from his adoptive father’s household. Understated yet luxurious, it was also the most expensive piece of clothing in his wardrobe.

With the robe draped over him, Charlie looked even more like a young nobleman. But he wasn’t trying to put on airs with a fancy outfit. He simply had nothing else to wear.

To get to the Beagle Workshop, Charlie had to pass Lily House, famous for its delicious honey bread, and the Oak Tavern, where all sorts of people from every walk of life gathered.

That also took care of dinner. Charlie didn’t feel like cooking today.

The Beagle Workshop offered home delivery, so Charlie quickly finished his business there and stopped by the Oak Tavern on his way back.

It was dinner time, and the Oak Tavern was bustling. The set of magic lamps the tavern owner had spent a fortune acquiring illuminated every corner inside and out. The acorn on the tavern’s sign could be seen from a considerable distance.

The tavern and Lily House were both places the original Charlie frequented. He devoted all his energy to his studies and naturally wouldn’t waste it on trivial matters of daily life.

As a result, no one in the tavern found Charlie’s presence unusual. Only the mercenaries who frequently left the city to take on bounty jobs hadn’t yet heard of him. Seeing an unfamiliar face, they raised their eyebrows and whistled.

“Where’d this little nobleman come from? Did he take a wrong turn?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“The mage of Gray Hat Street, little Charlie the Daydreamer. Hahaha…”

……

…

Fragments of conversation rose around the tavern: teasing, banter, mockery. The same familiar scene played out again and again. Some found it amusingly fresh, while others were already sick of it.

The one serving food in the tavern was the owner’s younger son. That old miser would never let a single grain on the floor go to waste, nor would he let any available labor go unused. His younger son, Mishlei, who had the same large nose as his father, wore a red headscarf. He slammed a drink down on one of the tables and sneered, “Go ahead, drink up. Can’t even alcohol shut you up? How many needles did you steal from the Black Forest this time?”

The joke about stealing needles never got old.

The arrogant mercenaries always became eloquent after a few drinks. Their boasts stretched from Magipo City all the way to the Black Forest in the east, growing until they could practically blot out the sky. But if you asked what they had actually gained, the answer was usually that they had ventured a few steps into the outskirts of the famed Black Forest, only to receive a few quills from a thorn porcupine.

After returning to Magipo City and selling the quills to a general goods merchant or workshop, the money they earned would barely be enough to buy a bottle of Hibo wine.

“What do you know? I found something good this time. Otherwise, why do you think I took so long to come back?”

“Hahahaha! You really found something good? Then why don’t you show us?”

Those making jokes and those simply joining in the fun all began to egg him on. The smell of alcohol mingled with spices and wafted through the air, stirring every restless, reckless heart and pushing the atmosphere to its peak.

Charlie drew his robe closer around himself. He wasn’t particularly accustomed to such a noisy environment, but he didn’t dislike it. Stories in a tavern needed tavern ale to accompany them. He couldn’t get used to Hibo wine, but there were plenty of people who appreciated it.

And stories themselves never cared about status.

Mishlei turned around and waved to him. “What are you having today?”

The original Charlie’s old diet had truly been monotonous, practically enough to make chickens tremble in fear. After Charlie arrived, he began making small changes. “One venison pie, one roasted eel, and a bowl of herb and mushroom soup.”

“Then you’re in luck today. The eel was delivered this afternoon. It’s fresh.” Mishlei kept himself busy, wiping down a table while talking to Charlie before turning back to ask, “Want some wine?”

Charlie shook his head. “No. I drank too much a few days ago, and my head still hurts.”

Mishlei glanced at his slightly pale complexion and didn’t press him. Charlie was one of the oddballs who came to the tavern just to fill his stomach without drinking, but he certainly wasn’t the only one. Mishlei casually pointed out an empty seat in the corner and went back to work.

Charlie sat down. Once his dinner arrived, he listened to the stories filling the tavern and found himself quite content.

He noticed that his appetite had grown. He wasn’t sure whether it was because meditation had consumed so much energy or because he had missed lunch. Just as he was lost in thought, a surprised voice suddenly came from beside him.

“Mr. Blaze?”

For a moment, Charlie didn’t even react. That was his surname. A moment later, he turned his head and saw a middle-aged man standing beside him, familiar yet strangely unfamiliar.

Oh no. Who was this again? Charlie nodded at him without revealing anything, then hurriedly searched through the original owner’s memories.

Fortunately, the man didn’t notice anything unusual. Seeing Charlie nod, he eagerly began talking. “It really is you. I thought I was mistaken when I saw you from a distance, but that robe confirms it. You were wearing it the day I brought you here.”

The way he was addressing him caught Charlie’s attention, and at last, he found the answer in his memories.

This was a coachman for the Pegasus Caravan. When Charlie had left the distant Southern Capital Prefecture, he had paid for a ride with the caravan to Magipo City. For an ordinary coachman who made his living through hard work, Charlie had still been someone far beyond his reach, even after leaving the lord’s estate.

He might also be one of the few people in Magipo City who would still respectfully address him as “Mr. Blaze.”

The old Charlie hadn’t been good at socializing. He had grown up on the lord’s estate and rarely had opportunities to meet outsiders. His blond hair and green eyes also set him apart from the other adopted children, leaving him without many close friends.

In everyone else’s eyes, those eyes gave him an innate air of melancholy. But in truth, Charlie had never harbored much resentment and had always been grateful. He never used his status as an adopted son to bully others. Of course, when he himself was bullied, he usually endured it in silence.

“Long time no see, Uncle Sam.” Charlie imitated the way the old Charlie used to speak to him, greeting him politely despite the slight awkwardness.

Sam was delighted that Charlie still remembered his name. “Long time no see, Mr. Blaze. I never thought I’d see you here.”

Hearing this, Charlie made a small decision. He waved Mishlei over, asked him to add two dishes and a pitcher of ale, and invited Sam to sit down.

Sam tried to decline, so Charlie lowered his eyes slightly and said, “I’ve been away from Southern Capital Prefecture for a long time. I wonder if everything is all right there…”

“Please don’t worry, Mr. Blaze. His Lordship is already preparing for Midsummer Day in June. The town is bustling, and several groups of mercenaries have already arrived. I hear they’re planning a grand celebration.”

“They say Young Master Armand will return in June as well. Come to think of it, he’s been away from Southern Capital Prefecture for a long time too, just like you. And then there are your other adopted brothers…”

As Sam continued, Charlie began thinking things over.

He had left Southern Capital Prefecture at the end of February, just as the ground had begun to thaw. After spending some time on the road, he arrived in Magipo City in early spring, in March. A month had passed. It was now April 22, leaving only a little over a month until June.

Armand was Lord Lully’s biological son, and he had left Southern Capital Prefecture at almost the same time as Charlie.

On the day they departed, Charlie had stood beside a haystack at a three-way crossroads and watched Armand’s caravan head east. His destination was no secret. He would cross the Cangria River to the east, reach the Transparent Sea, and receive an ancient legacy at the Castle of Silver Moon.

Speaking of ancient legacies, one had to mention the history of the continent of Totolando.

Once, Totolando had belonged to light and darkness. Two great chief gods ruled the land, while countless other gods stood alongside them and various nonhuman races held sway. In those days, humanity was nowhere near as powerful as it was now. The wrath of dragons and the might of the elves were both enough to make people tremble in fear.

Magic, you ask?

In those days, magic was known as divine arts. It was controlled by the Holy See, and anyone who practiced it without permission was considered a heretic. And according to the Holy See, the divine arts used by heretics were called… Witchcraft.

The Pope raised his scepter, listening to divine revelations from above while ruling over the masses below. Even kings smiled obsequiously beneath the Pope’s shadow, let alone commoners?

Slaves in chains forever died within endless dark dreams, unable to survive one cold winter night after another, until…

A thunderous sound came from the heavens.

Golden blood belonging to the gods fell like rain, leaving the earth scarred and devastated.

Totolando descended into chaos, and all-out war erupted across the continent.

The cause of this great conflict between the various races had long since been lost to history. Or perhaps Charlie simply knew too little. According to the stories he had heard since childhood, human heroes had seized the opportunity to rise up and overthrow the Holy See.

The Pope died. The temples fell. The old gods perished, and the balance of power among the various races was reshuffled.

Dragons had incredibly long lifespans, but with their strongest fighters dead, they began to recuperate. A few hundred years were no more than a blink of an eye to them. Something also went wrong with the Elven Mother Tree, so they too began a long process of recovery.

Once these two great races went into recovery, humanity began growing like weeds.

The victors among humanity, House Kornweiss, conquered the most prosperous and expansive region in the center of the continent and founded the Garland Empire. The former rulers of the central region were driven into the cold north, while the remaining nations acknowledged Garland as the foremost among them.

Divine arts were no longer given the name of “divine.” They became magic belonging to “man.”

Powerful mages no longer wished to be shackled by authority, so they joined forces to establish the Magic Council, opening the curtain on the Age of Magic.

After transmigrating here, Charlie had been surprised to discover that Totolando had already abolished slavery. After carefully searching through the original owner’s memories, he learned that one of the founders of the Magic Council, the Legendary Mage known as the “Prophet of Fate,” had actually been born a slave.

The first thing she did after rising to power was abolish slavery.

Unlike this slave-born Prophet of Fate, some of the earliest divine arts, or witchcraft, had also been passed down through the generations. These practitioners were almost all nobles. Their distinguished families and immense wealth allowed those mysterious forms of witchcraft to be preserved and passed down from generation to generation until the arrival of the Age of Magic.

There were now five ancient legacies universally recognized throughout Totolando. Lord Lully himself had no connection to any of them, but he had married a woman from House Helmont.

His wife carried a noble lineage of witchcraft, and that distinction had therefore passed to his son, Armand.

At the time, Charlie had only been envious. But now…

The existence of the curse had already come to light. But where, exactly, had his stolen talent gone?

Charlie had a feeling that something else might happen when midsummer arrived. No. Perhaps even sooner. He felt a sense of urgency, as though an invisible hand of fate were pushing him from behind. Yet on the surface, he remained perfectly composed, making it seem as though he were simply reminiscing about the past.

Sam couldn’t help adding a few more words. He also asked Charlie if he had any letters he wanted sent home, offering to deliver them for him. Charlie shook his head and simply said that he hadn’t become a mage yet and didn’t want to disappoint everyone, so he declined.

Somewhere among the drunken patrons, someone let out a mocking laugh.

Sam scratched his head, somewhat puzzled. He was only passing through Magipo City and wasn’t a regular at the Oak Tavern. He hadn’t witnessed what had happened earlier, so he had no idea what was going on.

Charlie showed no particular reaction either. He continued chatting with Sam about Southern Capital Prefecture for a while, taking a few small sips of ale before saying goodbye with a slight buzz and paying his bill.

But just as Charlie pushed open the tavern door and the bell above it rang brightly, a sudden crash came from behind him.

The man who had been holding up his wine and pontificating just a moment earlier slipped and crashed to the floor the next. He took several tables and chairs down with him, and instead of making it into his stomach, all the wine in his cup ended up pouring over his own head.

As the wine dripped from him, he spotted the pea that had somehow ended up beneath his shoe. His face reddened with fury as he cursed it, only to be met with laughter from the entire tavern.

Charlie found the man’s flushed face rather adorable. Beneath the bright magic lights, the corners of his lips curved up slightly, as though silently expressing his appreciation and admiration for this little tavern performance.

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