Black Hearted Mage

At dusk, the brilliant sunset dyed the entire sky a brilliant orange-red, spreading across the horizon like an overturned palette. The terrace on the top floor of Stonebreak Castle was gilded with a warm golden edge by the sunset glow, and steam rose continuously from a huge stew pot, forming wisps of white mist in the twilight.

With a gurgling, bubbling sound, the broth in the pot gradually thickened, its rich aroma almost solidifying. The plump puppy was clumsily busying around, its stubby tail sweeping across the charcoal fire, sending a few pieces of red-hot charcoal tumbling out with a crackling sound. The rich, fragrant stew had reached its perfect temperature; if it continued simmering at this rate, the precious broth would soon run dry.

With its stubby, powerful front paws, it lifted the trident, which was taller than it, and precisely stabbed a piece of tender, tender meat. Its nimble tail was also busy, gently hooking and dragging the magic steel bowl to the edge of the pot, fearing to miss a single drop of the rich broth. The metal bowl shimmered in the sunset light, creating a warm scene with the steaming pot.

Polly, standing nearby, stared with wide eyes as she watched the greedy fat dog fill half a basin of stew without eagerly devouring it as usual. When the puppy slyly glanced at the crystal room and then pulled out a crystal-clear bottle, Polly couldn't help but exclaim.

"You damn dog!" She stamped her feet in anger, her long brown hair flying in the evening breeze. "I was wondering why the Fire Maple Wine disappeared yesterday. It turns out it was you, a thief!"

This bottle of fire maple wine was what Caesars had left over from lunch today, but there was only about half a bottle left. Polly originally wanted to take it for herself, but when she turned around, the bottle disappeared.

At this moment, Caesars stretched out his body and walked out of the glittering crystal house. The afterglow of the setting sun gilded his magic robe. His eyes wandered back and forth between the farce on the terrace, and a playful smile unconsciously appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Polly, stop it!"

Caesars suddenly swooped forward and firmly grasped Polly's wrist as she reached for the bottle. His dark eyes fixed on the puppy lying next to the bottle. "See that fat dog? It's a bad habit of that damn dog. It'll lick everything it wants with its saliva-soaked tongue. That's what happened to my sausage string last time!"

Polly's finger stopped abruptly when it was only inches away from the bottle. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, as if she had smelled the puppy's saliva. "This fat dog is so mean!" She glared at the puppy, who was looking back at her with innocent eyes.

Caesars released her wrist and pushed the bottle toward the puppy again, causing it to whimper with satisfaction.

Caesars leaned against the oak table, tapped the counter with his fingertips, and said, "Polly, isn't Fire Maple Wine the signature of your Solomon family? How can you not even get it in your own home?" He raised an eyebrow, with a hint of mischief in his tone.

Polly slumped down in the oak chair, her skirt wafting in a fragrant breeze. "This is a century-old Flame Maple Wine!" She ruffled her fiery red hair in frustration. "Of course I can use ordinary Flame Maple Wine, but wine of this vintage is locked away in the cellar."

She gestured and explained, "Do you know how rare the production of Fire Maple Wine is? In a year of good weather, a Fire Maple tree over a hundred years old will produce enough sap for four barrels. This amber sap is distilled three times and stored in the cellar for seven years, and finally it can only be condensed into a barrel of Fire Maple Wine. If it is made into syrup, the amount is even less, maybe not even half a barrel."

The setting sun shone on the crystal cottage, its light radiating onto her face. Polly's voice dropped. "Not to mention drought years, when not even a drop of sap can be extracted. If we forcefully harvest, the fire maple trees will wither like soldiers drained of blood. Although there are over 20,000 fire maple trees in the entire territory, a third of the annual production must be reserved for making fire maple syrup..."

"Wait!" Caesars suddenly straightened up. "You said you can produce 5,000 barrels a year? But Duke Solomon told me himself that the annual output of Fire Maple Wine is only a few hundred barrels!"

Polly gave a meaningful smile, and her fingertips gently stroked the family crest on the badge. She drew out her tone: "Great Magician Caesar, where do you think all the extra wine went? The royal family has to pay tribute of 800 barrels every year, the major noble families take 1,200 barrels, and there are also magical forces, mercenary guilds..." When she counted to the fifth finger, Caesar's eyes widened.

Polly shrugged and said helplessly, "In the end, the only things left in the Solomon family's wine cellar are the few hundred barrels the Duke mentioned.

"That's your grandfather!"

"It's my grandfather, also the Duke of the Roland Empire!"

Caesars sighed as he looked at Polly. Family ties within large families were often quite distant. Even the seemingly prosperous Duke of Solomon needed to maintain friendships with the royal family and the nobility, and these friendships were built on the foundation of personal gain.

Caesars looked at Polly's childish face and couldn't help but sigh. In this extended family, bound by blood, kinship was like the thin rays of winter sun, seemingly warm but always tingling with a biting chill. Even the powerful Duke Solomon had to wear a mask in the magnificent banquet hall. Those moments of toasting with the royal family, those evenings of chatting and laughing with the nobles, were all based on a carefully calculated balance of interests.

"Polly, it's time for dinner." Caesars collected his thoughts and softened his tone. "I'll bring you some rare treasures when we get back from Greystone Castle." He suddenly seemed to remember something, and his fingers unconsciously stroked the edge of the gilded tableware. "By the way, when did that old guy Hawkeye leave?"

Polly sat down at the dining table, the silver threads on her skirt shimmering in the twilight. "My Lord, the gentleman left in a hurry just as you entered the Crystal Cottage."

Kaesus walked towards the magic steel stew pot. With a flick of his wrist, his trident drew an elegant arc in the air, precisely spearing two pieces of fragrant monster meat. As the amber-colored fire maple wine poured from the crystal bottle, it was instantly filled with the mellow aroma of maple syrup and oak barrels.

"Try this stewed white crocodile." He pushed the plate in front of Polly and looked out at the darkening twilight. "Although this dead dog is a bit greedy, it has a very precise control over the temperature of the stew!"

Before he could finish his words, the puppy who was wolfing down its food suddenly pricked up its ears, hummed with pleasure, and wagged its short, sleek tail into a little whirlwind.

Half an hour later, dinner ended in silence. Deep dusk descended like a heavy curtain, shrouding the banks of the Emerald River in hazy shadows. The outline of the Greystone Castle on the opposite bank gradually faded into the darkness, with only a few scattered lights lighting up, like the eyes of a sleeping beast opening.

Caesars stood at the edge of the parapet on the top floor of the Graystone Fort, pulling out a magic telescope with a stand from his interspatial ring. The lens shone a faint blue light in the night. He adjusted the telescope's focus, his eyes fixed on the gradually lighting windows of the fort on the opposite bank, calculating the time for the guard change.

"Time is up!"

Kaesus muttered to himself as he returned the telescope to his spatial ring. He flexed his knuckles and pulled a short knife from his waist, gleaming with a dull golden hue. This was the weapon of the elven mage—the Magic Blade. Intricate magic patterns etched into the blade allowed it to function as both a melee weapon and a precise channeling of magical energy. Within the cramped spiral staircases and low arcades of Greystone Castle, it proved far more practical than a cumbersome staff.

Caesars took one last look at his equipment: He pinned the Frost Crown emblem to his front, the cool metal against his collarbone. Of the several crystal potion bottles on his belt, three shone inky blue, five were gray-green, and six or seven were golden. He took a deep breath and began to whisper an ancient spell. As the syllables flowed, strands of magical light entwined around his limbs like living threads. As the last syllable fell, a pair of massive wings composed of pure dark energy unfolded from his back, each feather aglow with a faint purple light.

"I should get going!"

Kaisas narrowed his eyes and gazed towards the other bank. With a gentle flap of his elemental wings, he soared into the night sky, blending into the dense darkness. Only the occasional glimmer of light from the potion bottle remained, like a fleeting shooting star in the night sky.

Caesars glided lightly across the four-mile-wide Emerald River, its emerald waters shimmering in the moonlight. He deliberately kept his flight to the slowest possible speed, stirring up not a single gust of wind for five minutes. This slow flight perfectly concealed his presence. As silently as a falling leaf, he landed on the rooftop of the fort, not even disturbing the night crows perched on the eaves.

Below, at the entrance to the side fort, heavily armed guards mechanically patrolled back and forth, their armor gleaming coldly in the moonlight. They diligently guarded the entrance, never anticipating an intruder to descend from the sky. Caesars noticed that their patrols always stayed within the perimeter. True to their intelligence, these guards never set foot inside the side fort.

He tentatively pushed the heavy wooden door leading into the tower. To his surprise, the seemingly sturdy door was ajar. This unexpected surprise saved him the trouble of prying the door open, and the noise it would have caused. Behind the door was a narrow staircase spiraling downwards. The wooden treads were only three feet wide, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Caesars held his breath, evenly distributing his weight on each step. These seemingly old stairs were surprisingly sturdy, and they didn't creak a single time as he cautiously advanced.

When the spiral staircase finally reached the bottom, the ground beneath them turned into a cold stone walkway. According to Hawkeye's intelligence, this floor was uninhabited. Darkness enveloped the entire corridor, without a single light. Those pampered magicians, evidently unwilling to climb the stairs, had chosen the more comfortable lower floors.

Caesar continued his descent, passing through five silent floors before he finally sensed a faint surge of magical energy. Following this magical aura, he discovered an unassuming wooden door at the end of the narrow corridor. A faint flicker of fire shone through the crack, hinting at activity within. Caesar pressed himself against the door, catching his breath and preparing for his next move.

Caesars stood outside the door, his fingertips gently stroking the magic blade at his waist. He knew that facing such an experienced magician, rashly using his magic tentacles to explore would be tantamount to alerting the enemy - the subtle fluctuations caused by those invisible magic tentacles as they moved through the air would definitely not escape the opponent's perception.

He deftly fastened the protective mask to his face, the metal buckle making a gentle click. He removed a delicate crystal bottle from the leather apothecary belt at his waist. The dark blue liquid shone eerily in the darkness. Caesars carefully tilted the bottle, and five or six drops of the viscous liquid slowly fell out. Just before hitting the ground, he precisely enveloped them with his magic.

These magical drops of medicine squirmed like living things, silently seeping into the room through the crack in the door. Caesars put away the potion bottle and pressed his left hand on the metal casing of the magic timer. The cold touch kept him on high alert.

When the timer showed two minutes had passed, Caesars decisively reached out and pushed at the wooden door. The hinges creaked slightly, but the occupant remained silent. In the warm glow of the fireplace, a middle-aged wizard in dark blue robes slumped on a leather sofa, his chest rising and falling with his snoring. In his right hand, he loosely grasped a magic crystal whose energy had not yet been exhausted, a white halo of magic flickering between his fingers.

"The powerful sleeping potion is indeed reliable!"

A cold smile curled up Kaisas's lips. He noticed the magic emblem on the mage's robes—he was a mid-level mage. If he had chosen to use a deadly poison, given his resistance, he might have screamed loudly before dying. But now, this mage would die quietly.

The magical blade shone with a chilling gleam in the dim room, piercing the intermediate magician's vitals with unerring precision. The sharp edge severed the cervical vertebrae with ease, shedding only a trace of blood before the life was gone. A wisp of milky-white soul drifted from the wound, drawn to the Soul Gem in Caesar's pocket and drawn in as if by an invisible hand.

Caesars glanced coldly at the corpse on the ground, then turned and began searching the room for valuable items. His movements were deft and swift, his slender fingers brushing across the bookshelf, sweeping several ancient tomes into his interspatial ring. Scattered in the corners lay some strange alchemical instruments and scrolls inscribed with obscure magic patterns. Though he couldn't decipher their meaning, he pocketed them all anyway—they would always fetch a good price in Fire Maple City.

As he finished searching the last drawer, the soul gem's faint glow completely extinguished, signaling the completion of the soul's absorption. Caesars crouched down and deftly removed the gemstone-encrusted storage ring from the corpse's finger. Then, as if handling ordinary cargo, he stuffed the still-warm corpse into the storage space. Silence returned to the room, as if no one had ever been there.