Warlock Apprentice

Translator: Henyee Translations  Editor: Henyee Translations

Widow Street wasn’t far from the central court area. Instead of flying, Angor slowly blended into the common crowds and walked toward his destination casually.

But before he could enter Widow Street for real, he suddenly felt a strange feeling directed right at him as if someone was watching him.

He made a quick decision and turned into another direction, which would take him to the “Dawn Plaza” instead.

Once inside the plaza area, he made sure the inquiring attention had disappeared before he slowly turned around to inspect the entrance to Widow Street. This was when he easily noticed two apprentices hiding on top of a house.

He couldn’t see their faces clearly from a distance, but he was sure those were apprentices because they kept casting some kind of detection cantrip at the pedestrians below. While the magic was invisible to mortals, other apprentices could notice it with ease.

Apparently, they were here to monitor people who entered Widow Street.

“Guess they already found this place…” Angor frowned.

This was completely expected since Lucas’ family industry, which was located at Widow Street, was not a secret.

However…

Angor looked again and wondered how many supernatural individuals were already investigating that place.

He could try forcing his way inside under the effect of Infinite Reticence, but the effect wasn’t powerful enough to hide him from full-scale detection methods.

After considering his options, he headed to another spot.

According to Moyah’s descriptions, Lucas had another standalone yard at Pompei Alley. The man bought this yard for one of his lovers who held his child. Fearing that his “other lovers” might do something bad to her, Lucas found her a new residence.

Also according to Moyah, this child was given birth just fine but passed away at the age of three. However, Moyah wasn’t sure of the cause of the tragic outcome.

Pompei Alley was in the eastern part of the city, which was pretty far from Widow Street. To be safe, Angor kept walking slowly so that he could get far away from the watchmen before taking to the air.

He halted his steps when walking past the center of the plaza.

He had been keeping an eye at Widow Street and didn’t pay much attention to the other parts of the plaza. He just realized that there was a really tall tree planted not far from him, which looked at least ten meters in height.

Or… it wasn’t an actual tree, but a stone sculpture that looked like a tree. It was a stone sculpture entirely made out of one giant Luminous Stone.

Being right beside it allowed Angor to fully witness its magnificence. He couldn’t believe it was possible for mortal hands to craft such a thing at all. The stone tree had a great number of ritual bells hanging over it, which would give out pleasant clinking sounds whenever there was any wind.

Apart from admiring the rare structure and the masterful design, there was another reason why Angor stopped to inspect it—he saw something familiar in a brief story found in Moyah’s journal, which went like this:

[Year 1347, Age of Gold, Month of Resuscitation

[Prince Domingo is visiting the court. Lucas… you a*shole! He went off to flirt with Domingo’s cousin! And she’s a sightless ugly! Look at that fool! What did he say again? That he would take her to Undermour Lake and pray to the Tree of Blessing? So she can regain her sight? This is quite enough! Why would God send me to this disgraceful deadbeat?!]

Angor didn’t pay much attention to Moyah’s complaint, which was pretty common in her journal. But looking at the tree sculpture reminded him of a certain clue.

He didn’t know what the plaza area looked like 3,000 years ago, but from the map he just found, he saw “Undermour Lake” right next to Widow Street.

“So is this glowing Luminous Stone tree the ‘Tree of Blessing’?”

He looked around and saw a small shop stand selling more chimes, and a group of young ladies was chattering loudly nearby.

“I heard that this tree works wonders! I hope Cleon falls in love with me this time!” a lady exclaimed.

“Me? I hope that Master Volca visits Lost Paradise next month and does a concert.”

“I just wanna lose some weight…”

They purchased several bronze chimes, attached their “wish notes” onto them, and climbed a ladder prepared by the shop to hang their chimes on the stone tree.

“So that’s what the bells are used for…” Angor inspected the tree again as well as the notes all over it.

Using spirit feelers, he found most of the notes to be good wishes for wellbeing. Occasionally, there were more straightforward wishes or even bizarre ones such as someone hoping to gain a longer pecker, as shown on a golden bell near the top of the tree.

When the talking ladies left, the shopkeeper somehow noticed him since he was standing pretty close to the shop.

“Gentleman, need a wishing bell?” The young salesman smiled. “The Tree of Blessing is magical! People said that our queen once wished for a good husband, then our good king came!”

He then pointed to the top of the tree where several golden bells were. “See the topmost one? That’s the queen’s bell.”

Angor checked and saw the “wish for a husband”.

“How much for one?”

“Two gold pieces for a bronze, which will stay there for a month. Twenty for a silver one, stays for a year. As for golden ones… they cost 200 each. As long as our union stays in business, we’ll keep your golden bell on there forever!”

The price was… pretty insane. In mortal lands, one gold piece was enough to keep an ordinary citizen fed for an entire year. The service was obviously intended for rich people who had too much money to spare.

Angor picked up a golden bell and checked as the shopkeeper eagerly explained the “benefits” of buying one, such as how the shop would clean it every three days and keep it from dust and rain, and of course, a higher chance of making one’s wish come true.

Naturally, Angor believed none of these. He already checked. The Tree of Blessing had zero magic signature on it.

But he didn’t come here to point out the fraud.

“Mister, so this tree belongs to your union?” he asked a question.

“That’s right! Our leader asked Master Warsaw to make it happen! It’s customized work.”

“It’s… beautiful, yes. May I ask when it was placed here?”

The shopkeeper frowned. He checked Angor’s poor dressing style and wondered if it was another unlikely customer.

But before he asked his assistant to drive Angor away, a heavy pouch was suddenly dropped onto his counter.

A pouch full of gold pieces.

“I’ll take a golden bell,” said Angor.

The shopkeeper instantly repaired his expression. Without minding where Angor had been keeping the extra-sized bag, he quickly took out a piece of high-quality notepaper and a quill, then handed them to Angor.

“Please write down your wish, dear guest! We’ll find the perfect spot on the tree for you later. Trust me, your bell will not be troubled by rain or wind!” the man said while rubbing his hands happily.

Before taking the quill, Angor returned to his previous question. “You haven’t told me the history of the tree. Or may I?”

The shopkeep did not hesitate this time. “It’s somewhere around 600 years ago. Master Warsaw perished not long after the tree was finished.”

Angor nodded with a plain look.

It happened again!

Lucas spoke of the Tree of Blessing, yet the tree only appeared way after his time. Apart from this, the other details all corresponded.

By this point, Angor had believed that Lucas’ stories were somewhat credible. There was no way Lucas made up so many tales that reflected true events and landmarks so nicely.

Perhaps Lucas held amazing secrets that people from the Age of Gold had no idea of, and that in recent times, someone finally noticed the true values of the secrets.

“Have you decided on your wish, good sir?” the shopkeeper urged.

“Oh, pardon me. I was… thinking about which wish to write. You know, I got many of them.”

The shopkeeper gave Angor an “I understand you” look and waited in patience. In his view, Angor was basically a rich lamb waiting to be fleeced.

The “rich lamb” took an extra moment in his thoughts before he left a line of words on the note.

[I wish Mister Jon and my dear brother better health. May the fire in the lion’s heart never die.]