Warlock Apprentice

So this glazed sphere with a pale blue hue was the reason why Jon came here from Earth. Apart from being amazed, Angor also felt curious and confused.

It was only natural that he felt this way when facing such an extraordinary artifact. His teacher wouldn’t be in this situation if not for this. He would be enjoying his life back with his wife and daughter.

Apart from this though, there was a voice, secretly whispering into Angor’s mind: The glazed sphere was also the reason why he could meet an erudite figure like Teacher in the first place. Without Teacher, maybe he would have become a spoiled playboy who would live a boring life forever, never to know about anything in this world.

Of course, Jon couldn’t read Angor’s mind. He only fiddled around with the sphere in his palm, then stretched out his mostly-wilted hand to put the sphere into Angor’s.

“I already threw it away, and I’ll keep it that way. Since you brought it back, it’s probably destined to be with you. Keep the Alien Eye… I don’t have much time left, but you’re still young. Maybe you will find a chance to visit the Earth,” Jon shook his head with a smile. He didn’t even believe himself, yet he still insisted. “If you truly did, please bring my ashes back to China and bury them under that old mistletoe tree in my home, just along the lower reaches of Yangtze River…”

The mist was thick this evening. Angor held his chin and stayed beside Jon until the old man was asleep. Then, Angor left while rubbing his sore arms.

Teacher’s body was constantly failing, and nobody knew how long before he would… Despite Angor’s will, if Teacher said that Gaia’s Consciousness would not spare him, then there was nothing Angor could do. Well, maybe just one: he would stay at Teacher’s side, happily, and fulfill his duty as a pupil and child during Jon’s last moment.

When Angor stepped out of the yard, the moonlight was shining upon the earth. He was wearing a down cape with his family emblem embroidered on it, over his thin coat. His shadow dragged long under the moon. His lonely figure trod towards the castle in the center of the manor.

In the hall of the castle, a team of female dancers wearing elegant attires held the tips of their dresses and circled around to the musician’s melody. The maids lit the valuable candles made from deep-sea fish oil one by one, illuminating the hall with artificial daylight.

Tasty smells filled the hall: wine, cream cheese, and the mild sweetness of flowers and tea.

This joyful scene was what Angor saw when he entered the castle.

Leon was standing in the middle of a crowd, with his glass of red wine in hand, talking to several strangers cheerfully.

Those must be the people from the Morn Family.

As Angor quietly inspected the visitors, Leon saw him and happily dragged him into the crowd for introduction.

The one standing in the front was a middle-aged man wearing a gentlemanly costume. He had verdant-green eyes, deep brown hair, and distinctive facial features with a sharp look like an unsheathed sword.

“Just in time Angor! This is Count Eton from the Morn Family, who’s been defending the front lines,” Leon introduced.

Angor greeted him in a natural manner. The etiquette for nobles was already carved deep inside him, and he performed perfectly like a noble.

“These are Alan and Aleen, son and daughter of Count Eton.”

Alan was about the age of 14, similar to Angor himself. His facial features hadn’t fully grown, tand his chubby look was quite adorable. He inherited his father’s green eyes and brown hair, although the hairs had unfettered twists and curls in them, giving the boy a childish look.

Despite being the younger sister, Aleen looked more mature than Alan. She already had feminine curves around her body, accompanied by the long, elegant noble dress, she appeared like a little princess who was just about to step into adulthood, carrying the particular attractiveness of a young woman.

At the same time, everyone else was measuring Angor as well.

Angor was a beautiful boy by empire standard – blonde hair, blue eyes, clean, white, yet healthy skin. Every part on his face was perfect, and they were only more outstanding when put together. The flawless look already had an effect. When Angor smiled towards the brother and sister out of courtesy, Aleen immediately blushed and hid herself behind Alan, pretending to be fetching a dish.

The little cutie!

Eton silently laughed. Nevertheless, he was a bit surprised by Angor’s appearance. Old Padt had a really plain look, yet he gave birth to two handsome sons, between whom he really couldn’t pick a winner.

After many words of praise, Leon noticed that Eton kept glancing in another direction, so he said, “This is a tea party after all, so enough of the wine. Let’s enjoy some tea.”

With that, Leon clapped his hands to stop the dancers and led everyone to their respective seats in the tearoom.

Suddenly, the gate of the hall clicked and was slowly pushed open.

It was raining outside, and this was when everyone finally realized the weather.

A mysterious figure cloaked under a black robe slowly walked inside.

Leon frowned. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

Before he could finish, Count Eton, Alan and Aleen rushed to the figure’s side with respect.

“Viscount Padt, this is my father, Mara Morn,” Eton introduced, “Father loves teas with weak tastes. He came with us when he heard that a special tea was to be served. He was occupied by something along the road, that’s why he just arrived.”

Leon acknowledged with an “Oh!”, then walked up and greeted the elder member of the Morn Family with even greater passion.

Angor however, kept his focus on Mara’s shoes and twitched his eyebrows. Those were soft chamois leather shoes, with wet dirt hanging around the edges. What attracted Angor was the faint red color of the dirt.

Most dirt in Grue Town was yellow loess or black soil. There was only one place where red dirt could be found within an area of fifty kilometers… the Padt’s Tea Garden.

This man was so interested in the tea garden that he even went there in the rain?

Mara must be the one asking about the Morning Dew, though Angor still didn’t know what was so special about the tea. It was bitter, and followed by a tiny bit of sweetness long afterward. Mara was the only one showing interest in it apart from Teacher.

Angor did not tell this to anyone. He only showed a somewhat stiff expression. The Morns were way too powerful, and his own little countryside noble family would have zero chance against them. He could only hope that today’s tea party would satisfy them.

With hood removed, Mara just looked like an ordinary old man. Long, white beard, squinted eyes because of his smile, and a trace of elderly benevolence.

Leon ordered Head Maid Mana to serve all the pastries prepared today. Beside them sat several delicate porcelain teapots with carvings on them.

“These teapots hold every type of tea grown in our manor.”

As Leon introduced the teas, Mana opened their respective lids.

When the first pot was opened, light vapor rose up, bringing a rich, fragrant smell of flowers.

“This is Icy Honeydew. The leaves were the petals of Honeymoon Trees unique to the Padt Manor. This was brewed using the melted snow on the snow mountain instead of milk. Sweet but not too sweet. It sends a chill into your brain,” Leon sighed. “It’s a pity that a long winter has come. It should make you feel comfortable during the intense summer.”

The Morns gave it a taste. Aleen was the only one who actually liked it and drank some more, while all the others only had a tiny sip, except for Mara though, who only smelled it before putting it aside.

The second pot contained milk tea. This one had a more distinctive taste which was quite different from the famous teas around the empire.

“This is called the Lemon Milk Tea, brewed from a sour fruit called the Summer Lemon, added with some mint leaves,” then he pointed at Angor. “It’s my brother’s favorite. He drinks several glasses every day, while trying to hide it from everyone. Ha!”

Angor “glared” at Leon with his mind, but kept his smile on the outside.

“Mister Padt likes it?” Aleen beamed with delight, took a porcelain cup from Mana and took a big gulp.

Milk skin lingered on her lip. Aleen closed her eyes and pondered over the sweet yet sour aftertaste of milk. Brilliant!

“This is nice!” Aleen commented aloud, “I like it better than that flower tea.”

Hearing this, Alan also took a cup and downed it in one go. He smacked his lips, eyes squinted into slits, and nodded in satisfaction. He agreed with his sister’s taste, aloud.

Count Eton looked at his children and only chuckled. He didn’t drink the milk tea, for he already caught the meaning hidden between Leon’s words – this tea was obviously meant for Alan and Aleen.

It seemed that Mara also had a deep love for his grandchildren. He pushed his share of milk tea straight in front of Aleen.

Next, Mana opened several pots in succession. Most of them had milk teas and flower teas in them, about which Mara didn’t care much. He only sipped two types of green teas which were also favored by Jon. Though he was still somewhat indifferent about them.

Angor cast his eyes on the last teapot, which held the last of the three teas most loved by Jon, and the only tea plant he brought from the Earth – the Morning Dew.