Days quickly passed by. The farmers finally finished harvesting the crops in the Northern Land. As planned, Blackstone Town started exporting the excess wheat, poultry, and umami salt to the nearby territories.
The umami salt in particular caused an uproar among the masses.
Unlike the sea salt from the Kelvin Duchy, the umami salt added an unexplainable meaty taste to their dishes. Just a few days after it arrived in Lion City and Mavas City, it quickly became a hot topic among restaurants and inns. Even nobles started taking interest in the new product from Blackstone Town.
Gaston was thrilled when money started to finally flow into the treasury. They were close to being in the red just a month ago. But now, the amount of money coming in was enough to sustain the current developments of Blackstone Town.
They were no longer relying on the revenue from just the kalranes and potions to sustain the territory. With the addition of the income from exported crops, meat, and spices, they finally broke even.
At the same time, the blacksmith commissioned by Lark at Lion City arrived at Blackstone Town. Garma went straight to the mansion to deliver the mithril cubes he'd created. As he had promised, he finished the product in just two weeks.
"You must have been busy," said Lark. "Thank you for coming all the way here just to deliver these."
Placed on top of his desk were two silver?black cubes the size of a head. Each of them was made of mithril. On their walls, complex intertwining figures were carved.
"I wouldn't be able to sleep if I let some servant deliver this to you."
Garma didn't bother with formalities and addressed Lark casually.
"Mithril's damn expensive and rare. I'd rather kill myself than have an item made of mithril be stolen by some lowly bandit in the forest."
Lark thought that he could have sent it through the merchants since those men were protected by hired mercenaries during their travel. Garma probably had another reason for delivering this personally to Blackstone Town.
"Kid, this is the first time I've seen an item like that," said Garma. "I followed the blueprints faithfully, but even now I can't see how those cubes are supposed to work, with their insides hollow and all."
"That's not surprising." Lark nodded in understanding. "It's a personal design of mine."
He touched one of the cubes and channeled mana into it. Slowly, the symbols carved on the walls glowed. The cube separated into eight smaller pieces, forming small gaps, revealing the hollow interior.
"It's a medium, a container."
Lark's mana slowly flowed toward the hollow center of the cube, forming a translucent aggregation of mana visible even to the blacksmith's eyes. At first, it was just a small lump the size of a wheat grain. But as Lark continued supplying it with mana, it eventually grew into the size of a pebble.
"Crystallized mana," said Lark. "Pretty, isn't it?"
Garma agreed. It was indeed beautiful, like a polished gemstone. Even now, the crystallized mana at the center of the cube continued sucking Lark's mana, slowly growing in size with each passing moment.
"It'll be extremely hard to expand the mana pool of this body any further unless I get my hands on another high?grade mana stone," said Lark.
"I tried looking for decent?quality mana stones in the capital, but to no avail."
He'd realized the limits of his current shell a long time ago. Although he still continued training his mana pool every night, it was apparent that his progress would continue at a slow pace without the aid of an external force like a high?grade mana stone.
His current body's mana core was too mediocre. If only he had the same core as his disciples—George and Austen—reaching greater heights would have been easier.
Well, he decided to be thankful that he didn't end up with a body with a defective core. This was still better than nothing. He decided to make do with what he currently had in his hands.
"But with the help of these items." Lark grinned. "It should be possible to store mana in a separate space. An external container. In this case, these mithril cubes."
For several minutes, Garma and Lark silently watched as the crystallized mana inside the cube grew in size. By the time Lark was done, it was already the size of a fist. Lark breathed deeply and exhaled. He'd used up more than half of his entire mana.
Lark grinned as he looked at the translucent lump of mana inside the cube. The amount of mana stored in a single cube should be enough to enable him to cast a tenth?tier spell without expending his own mana reserves. If he used both cubes, even Grand Scale Magic should be possible.
"This is perfect," Lark said in satisfaction. "It's really hard to believe that you managed to create these two on the first try. The stored mana doesn't seep out at all. I don't have to worry about losing the mana I've stored in these mediums."
Garma laughed. Nothing was more euphoric than hearing a client praise his work as a blacksmith. "Of course, kid? I've been a blacksmith my entire life? Iron or mithril? It doesn't matter, I can make any item you want?"
Garma's laughter echoed even in the hallway.
After he filled the first cube to full capacity, Lark deactivated the runes and they reverted to their former state—a dull, silver?black cube with carved symbols on its walls. The gaps on the walls closed and they could no longer see the crystallized mana inside.
To Garma's surprise, the deactivated cube floated up and hovered above Lark.
"Mithril's a great conductor of mana," Lark said after seeing the curious gaze of the blacksmith. "You're the one who carved those peculiar symbols on its walls. You're probably curious about their function."
Garma nodded. He came here to deliver it personally out of curiosity.
As a craftsman, he wanted to fully understand the item he'd just made for this noble.
"Flight magic, shield magic, and the five elements—fire, water, wind, earth, and lightning." Lark willed the cube to hover down and stop right in front of him. It slowly spun around, showing the symbols carved on its walls. "This cube serves not only as storage of mana. It could also instantly cast basic spells on its own. Although it could only cast weak spells until the third tier, it should be enough to aid me during battle."
Garma was dumbstruck after hearing Lark's explanation. He had no idea that he'd created such an absurd item. The words 'instantly cast spells' resounded in his mind. Lark regarded third?tier spells as weak, but Garma knew that a third?tier lightning bolt was more than enough to kill your average soldier. Add the outrageous 'instant cast' function, this seemingly harmless cube was definitely a tool for carnage.
No wonder those peculiar symbols he carved on the cube's walls felt like magic formations.
They were magic formations.
Garma felt that the rare mithril was really well spent on these items. He finally understood why Lark immediately opted to have these things created instead of a sword or a spear.
Lark remembered the phylactery they needed to create to store the fragment of a demon.
"Ah, sorry for asking this when you've just created these cubes for me," said Lark. "But would it be possible for you to create another item made of mithril for me?"
Garma wondered how Lark got his hands on another mithril ore. He had to admit, he was curious what kind of item the noble was going to request him to make this time.
"Another item made of mithril," mumbled Garma.
Lark took out a rolled parchment and handed it the blacksmith. After unfurling it, Garma stared at the blueprint. It was neither a mithril cube nor was it a spear or a sword.
"A vase?" Garma frowned.
"A phylactery," said Lark. "Have you heard legends of liches? Beings who let go of their humanity in pursuit of immortality."
Garma had heard of them. As a kid, he'd frequently read tales about these greedy magicians who, in exchange for immortal life, stored their souls in phylacteries and took over the body of an undead. Although never in his wildest dreams would he have expected that he'd one day receive a commission to create a soul jar.
Garma stared at Lark. "Kid, my brother recommended me to you, so you must be a trustworthy person. That damn Zacharia's a good judge of character, after all." Garma gripped the blueprint, crumpling half of it. He looked enraged for some reason. "You're still young. I can help you create as many mithril cubes as you want, but creating a phylactery is out of the question." Garma's voice was firm. He stared at Lark with eyes filled with resolve.
Lark realized that Garma was misunderstanding his words.
"Ah, I should have worded it better." Lark rubbed his forehead. He chuckled. "I have no plans on becoming a lich, old man. That phylactery, it's… to heal a certain someone. I need a container made out of mithril or adamantite to sever a curse bound to a person's blood."
Garma locked eyes with Lark. After several seconds of awkward silence, he sighed. The young man didn't seem to be lying, at least that was what his intuition was telling him right now.
"Let me think about it," said Garma. "Just find me in the same smithy in Lion City once you have the mithril."
At least, Garma no longer outright refused him. But Lark could feel that the blacksmith was still a bit uneasy making a phylactery.
Three loud knocks were heard and a servant entered. He said, "Young Lord, Her Highness is here to see you."
Lark wondered why the princess suddenly came to see him.
"Let her in."
After being given permission to enter, a young woman entered Lark's office. She halted the moment she saw the muscular, sweaty old man standing before Lark's desk.
"Ah, Princess," said Lark. "What's brought you here today?"
Princess Esmeralda looked at the unknown man timidly. She contemplated if she should come back at another time.
"He's the blacksmith who'll be creating the phylactery." Lark decided to introduce him to get rid of the princess' uneasiness. "Garma. The famous blacksmith of Lion City."
Garma smiled wryly after hearing the word 'famous.' He was sure that he had a terrible reputation in Lion City, especially since he frequently refused commissions from the nobles of the city. If he didn't like the person, he wouldn't take the request. No wonder even Big Mona called him a grumpy old man.
Lark added. "This young lady here is the youngest daughter of King Alvis, Princess Esmeralda. She's the client you'll be working with for the phylactery."
Garma stared at the princess then gave a nod of acknowledgment.
After hearing that the muscular old man was the one who'll be making the phylactery for her father, the princess' eyes glimmered. She made several strides and grasped the rough hands of the blacksmith.
"So you're Garma?" said the Princess excitedly. "Thank you for coming all this way from Lion City just to listen to our request?"
The princess was clearly mistaken about why Garma had come to Blackstone Town, but the two men decided to ignore it. She looked so happy and they didn't want to shatter it.
Although Garma heard that she was a princess, he still didn't bother sticking with formalities. After the princess let go of his hands, Garma scratched the inside of his ear using his pinky finger. He grinned mischievously. "I didn't know you have a wife, kid. And a Princess of the Kingdom at that. Damn player. You'll soon become part of the royal family, huh?"
The princess froze upon hearing those words. Her face flushed and she took a few steps back. For some reason, her gaze became glued on the ground.
Seeing this, Garma chuckled. The Princess was too innocent, he thought. "I'm kidding. There's no need to be so embarrassed. It was just a joke, Princess."
Garma cackled, his laughter echoing even into the hallway. Lark was amazed that this blacksmith could remain so unrestrained even when speaking to Her Highness.
Lark decided to give the princess a way out. He asked, "So what did you come here for, Princess?"
The princess was clearly uneasy. Garma and Lark noticed this. They nodded at each other.
"I'll be on my way," said Garma. "Just visit me at my smithy once you want the item made."
Lark stood up and bowed his head. "I will. Thank you, Sir."
After Garma left, the Princess finally spoke. "I?I've thought about what you said to me several days ago," she said. "That it won't change anything even if I went with the expedition to the Forbidden Region."
Lark listened silently. He remembered the harsh words he'd said to her back then.
"It's true. I'm powerless? I'm not good with the sword like Parzival, and I'm not proficient in magic like Chryselle? No wonder you told me I'll be just baggage."
The princess clenched her fists. She looked at Lark straight in the eyes.
"That's why, please… I heard from Chryselle that you're probably the greatest mage in this country. Please teach me magic?"
Silence befell the room.
Lark stared at the quivering princess. Judging by her personality, it must have taken everything just to say these things to him in person.
After some time, he spoke, "I dislike being entangled with royals."
Lark knew firsthand how bothersome it was to be associated with High Nobles, especially back in his previous life.
"Learning magic is not something you decide out of a whim, Princess."
Lark raised three fingers. "Talent, mana pool, unwavering determination.
You need at least two of these three to be even remotely proficient in magic.
There are a lot of people with talent but they were born with mediocre mana pool—and they could never achieve greater heights because of that. There are people with vast mana pools but lack the talent to utilize it, and they're stuck with lackluster spells incapable of killing even the weakest beasts."
"And unwavering determination, Princess. Determination. Unless you can prove to me that you have all these three, I won't teach you."
"But you said that you only need to fulfill two of them to be even remotely proficient?" protested the princess.
"I told you. I dislike being involved with royals," said Lark. He blatantly showed that he had no interest in taking her in as a student.
"Curing His Majesty is a matter of life or death, and there's nothing I can do but help with it. But teaching you magic is an entirely different matter, Your Highness."
The Princess bit her lip. "As long as I fulfill all three, you'll teach me?"
There was a small pause before Lark replied.
"Of course."
The Princess turned around and went for the door. She planned on seeking Chryselle's help after this. For some strange reason, she really wanted to prove this idiotic lord wrong. This Lark Marcus was too arrogant.
He even refused to become the magic instructor of a royal.
"Don't go back on your promise."
Seeing those determined eyes, Lark smiled. "I won't. You have my word, Princess."