The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

Anser’s guess was correct. After lunch, the area outside the small estate grew increasingly noisy, with a steady stream of visitors arriving one after another.

This was a high-end residential district; those who could enter all held some degree of status—renowned adventurers, professionals, or nobles and high-ranking figures of the city-state.

Madam Cassanova could not afford to offend them, so she had no choice but to have the steward and Sandray receive the guests.

Most had come for Anser or for the things in his possession. Some probed indirectly; others were straightforward.

Following Sandray’s advice, Anser declined to see a single one, citing meditation as his reason, and let Bratt handle all matters on his behalf.

These people’s intentions were unclear, their factions and backgrounds complicated. It was better not to meet them at all. Anyone truly tactful or important would not choose to visit while Tim was absent—that would be presumptuous.

There was another reason as well: his Charisma was simply too high.

Ever since seeing him, the women of the Cassanova household had been constantly appearing before his eyes, inventing all sorts of excuses.

Even Tim’s daughter, Tina, came several times, wearing different clothes each time.

It made Anser realize that some necessary disguise was indeed necessary; otherwise, wherever he went, there would be many ”entanglements.”

Bratt, however, was thoroughly enjoying himself. The fact that he could become captain of the guard at the harbor hospital in Baldur’s Gate was not due solely to his status as a professional; both his emotional intelligence and intelligence were fully online.

It did not sound extraordinary, yet it was indeed rare. After all, even in his previous life, many people merely appeared normal.

Anser stayed in his room, enjoying this rare stretch of leisure.

Gazing at the blue bay outside, he felt that if not for those monsters, settling down here would not be a bad choice.

With nothing better to do, he tried using the blood of a half-dragon or a wyvern to break the treasury curse on the magic items inside the Dragonhide Pouch, only to find the effect was virtually nonexistent.

On the contrary, his own blood worked better. But with foreign races besieging the city and battle liable to break out at any moment, he refrained from bleeding recklessly in order to maintain his condition.

There was another method to break the curse: make the treasure become part of another dragon’s hoard.

He himself was a true dragon as well.

However, this method was useless for a wyrmling. A wyrmling’s true dragon power was too weak, insufficient to taint and expel another great dragon’s curse.

Moreover, wyrmlings lived with their parents; even half a gold coin had to be handed over. How could they possibly have a hoard of their own?

’Let’s wait a bit longer,’ Anser thought, unhurried.

The hoard items stolen by the Dragonhide Pouch were random—mainly coins, gemstones, and ordinary magic items. Items like Elemental Orbs were comparatively rare.

…

As evening approached, Tim finally returned.

But he did not come back alone—he brought a group of people with him.

Several villas stood not far away. Anser saw them from the window, and after a while, Sandray personally came to invite him over.

Anser brought Bratt and Giant Tail with him. Finn and Nornoth stayed home, so that a bunch of things would not be stolen.

Sandray led the way in front. The moment the group entered the reception hall, more than a dozen pairs of eyes looked over at them at once.

They hid their emotions well; it was hard to tell anything from the surface. But the holy symbol against Anser’s chest was hot enough to burn, which meant there were people of evil alignment among them, making him quietly alert.

”Let me introduce everyone.” Tim stood and came to Anser’s side, subtly giving him a look. ”This is Mr. Anser, from Baldur’s Gate. He has been fighting on the front lines against the foreign-race invasion, and he once fought side by side with the paladin Rand in Rivington…”

Tim’s intelligence was probably gathered from hearsay. Its accuracy was not high, and it also had a certain exaggerated element. But in front of so many people, Anser could hardly correct him.

”This gentleman is from Candlekeep, the Great Reader Mr. Italo Calvino…” Tim pointed toward an elderly man in white robes of medium build.

He looked very old—his skin was shriveled, his beard and hair completely white—but his waist and back were straight, and a rare pair of silver-gray eyes shone with vigor.

Anser gave a slight bow. A person’s reputation was like the shadow of a tree. Candlekeep had only eight Great Readers; they rarely went out, and their status was exalted.

Candlekeep was a rigorously structured knowledge monastery. Its highest leader was the Keeper of Tomes; the deputy was called the First Reader; and below them were the eight Great Readers—these formed the core management.

In addition, there were Chanters, Guides, guards, and the like. Their numbers were not large, but their strength was formidable.

Great Reader Italo’s gaze swept over Giant Tail at the side and the floating Elemental Orb, then settled on Anser. His expression was calm. ”This is a pleasantly surprising encounter, Mr. Anser.”

”Hm.” Anser did not understand why. He fell silent for a second. ”Same here.”

Tim looked at the two of them, felt something was a bit strange, and hurriedly continued introducing the others. ”This is the Duke of Bluewater City, Duke Hokenberg Selig…”

”Good evening, Your Grace.” Anser’s expression did not change, but inwardly he was quietly complaining, because this duke was self-proclaimed.

”Haha, I watched that battle today—truly splendid…” Selig wore gorgeous noble attire. He was small and thin, with dark skin; when he smiled, his eyes were almost impossible to see.

The moment he drew near, the holy symbol on Anser’s chest turned scorching hot, and a streak of white light seeped out from his collar.

Selig seemed to realize something. His smile stiffened for an instant, and then he retreated back to his seat as if nothing had happened.

Anser and Tim exchanged a look, privately finding it amusing.

Seeing this, most of the other city lords no longer stepped forward. They merely nodded in greeting, their expressions much cooler.

Anser’s expression remained calm. Lawful evil nobles were very common; there was nothing strange about it.

However, after this incident, these city lords seemed to have lost any desire for deeper conversation and directly stated that they wished to purchase the materials in his possession.

Anser, of course, would not refuse. He had no moral squeamishness—selling to one was the same as selling to another; as long as the price was reasonable, that was enough.

Lord Selig did not talk about money. Instead, with a smile, he took out two boxes from his robes and placed them on the table before him.

”Dragon materials are rare and difficult to price. I’ll use these to exchange with you.” His eyes were filled with confidence.

Anser’s heart skipped a beat. He stood, took the boxes, and opened them to inspect their contents.

As he had expected, inside were an Earth Elemental Essence and a Water Elemental Essence.

He lifted them and held them before his eyes. Yellow-brown and deep blue light reflected across his face, and a faint smile quietly curved at the corner of his mouth.

’It truly came without any effort.’

In the past, the charred corpses of a wyvern and a half-dragon likely would not have been enough to exchange for two Elemental Essences. But now, with spellcasters in decline and magic items and materials flooding the market, it happened to work to his advantage.

”I cannot refuse. Deal!” He did not hesitate further.

”Good. Then I’ll have my men take the goods now?” Selig stood up, seeming somewhat impatient.

”No problem.” Anser put away the Elemental Essences and had Bratt and Giant Tail follow to handle the transfer of materials.

The city lords left together. Soon, only Anser, Tim, and Great Reader Italo remained in the reception hall.

”I feel like I sold at a loss.” Anser shook his head with mock regret.

Transactions were always like this. If one did not bargain, or if the other party agreed too readily, one would always feel one had lost out.

”You didn’t.” Tim was amused by Anser’s expression. ”He only just acquired those two Elemental Essences. It took considerable effort to get them.”

”So… he has urgent need of them?” Anser asked, puzzled.

Ordinary magic materials could not compare with completed magic items, after all. Crafting required time and cost, and there was always the possibility of failure.

No matter how urgent, one could not immediately turn magic materials into magic items. That was why he felt something about Selig was off.

”That’s unclear.” Tim gave a slight shake of his head. Selig was temperamental; nothing abnormal could be discerned from his earlier behavior.

At the side, Great Reader Italo spoke calmly, ”I know a little about this matter.”

”Recently, Lord Selig has been in close contact with an organization called the Order of Blue Fire. He may be attempting to use some kind of ritual to obtain a dragon bloodline and regain his spellcasting ability…”

Anser’s brows drew together. He had not expected the Order of Blue Fire to have such far-reaching influence.

Lord Selig was a 7th-level Eldritch Knight. In order to regain spellcasting ability, cooperating with the Order of Blue Fire was not impossible.

Using half-dragon or wyvern flesh and blood as ritual materials sounded far more reasonable than using Sorcerer blood.

”As far as I know, this kind of ritual is not perfected and has strong negative side effects.”

As he spoke, he focused his mind on Italo. The dice spun for a long time, yet he still detected nothing.

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