The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 151

Adirich strode out of the courtyard and made a careful circuit around the manor, ensuring that no extra souls were lingering about. Then, he quietly approached Myke's quarters, peering through a crack in the window for a spell.

Myke was grievously injured and had not attended the tournament, remaining in his chamber to mend his wounds.

"Myke?" Adirich called out tentatively.

"What?" Myke's voice was frail, and his eyes were shut in disinterest.

Adirich scoffed inwardly, vowing to deal with him eventually.

A crimson trail of blood snaked through Alavin's courtyard and into his room. It was a path of blood that dripped from Alavin all the way from his clash in the Arena.

Adirich stood at the gatehouse, pondering how to lure Nikulas out. Adirich wished for no one to know of his presence, lest suspicions fell upon him.

Yet, he thought, perhaps the Commander himself wished for Alavin's demise. That madcap sought only his own glory, casting aside the honor of Cobalt Strike. The Commander must’ve been the most mortified of all. Any explanation now would seem but a feeble cover-up, especially after Cedrick's pronouncements.

With resolve, Adirich clenched his dagger and stepped toward the courtyard, but as the door creaked open, he had to quickly conceal himself behind the nearby hedgerow.

Nikulas exited softly, making haste toward the proving grounds.

"Off to watch the tournament, are we?" Adirich mused with a smirk, confident that Nikulas cared not for Alavin's well-being and was drawn back to the spectacle of combat. For safety, he waited until he was sure that Nikulas had truly departed, before stealthily entering the courtyard.

What luck! Nikulas' absence could be the perfect scapegoat.

At Alavin's door, Adirich hesitated only a moment longer before entering, a crooked smile upon his face.

Alavin lay upon his bed, swathed in bandages meticulously applied. His pallor was ghastly, and his breath faint. It was clear that his injuries were severe, with blood seeping through the dressings.

"Tsk, tsk, such a pitiful state," Adirich muttered.

He closed the door and advanced toward Alavin, gripping the dagger tightly. By loosening the bandages and reopening the wounds, it wouldn't be long before Alavin would expire from his own afflictions. As Adirich cruelly fantasized about harming Alavin, he cautiously approached the bed.

Alavin's breathing was feeble yet steady, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Adirich reached out to test his breath, his fingers inching toward the bandages.

Suddenly...

"What are you doing?" a voice unexpectedly rang out.

"By the gods!" Adirich jolted, nearly collapsing to the floor, and turned to see a figure seated by the window—a plump, rotund individual.

"Balder?! What are you doing here?" Adirich rubbed his eyes, thinking it was a vision.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

"What are you doing here?" The plump youth was none other than Balder, a scion of the Mollen family. His gaze was now stern upon Adirich.

"I... Why shouldn't I be here? I'm here for the tournament." Adirich stammered, surreptitiously sheathing his dagger. "But you—how did you get into the city? And why are you here? What's your intent?"

Balder regarded him coldly, a sneer forming on his lips. He had come on his father's orders, delayed by mishaps on the road, only arriving this day. His family had sacrificed half a mine to secure Alavin a spot at the championship, and they needed to ensure he was worth the price, so they sent Balder to assess Alavin's capabilities.

Balder had arrived that morning, just in time to witness Alavin's performance in the tournament, and had followed Nikulas back here. He had been pondering Alavin's potential and was pleasantly surprised by his investment, but he hadn't expected to find Adirich sneaking in, seemingly intent on an assassination. This shameless scum!

Adirich spoke firmly, "I need you to leave. I cannot be certain of how you entered or if you pose a threat to Alavin."

Balder looked at him for a moment before slowly rising, his round, jolly face reclaiming its smile. "Scared, are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Alavin's eight years of servitude are at an end. His name is now known throughout the Eight Orders. It's not a question of whether Cobalt Strike will offer him a status; it's about how they can keep him. I wager that if Alavin left Cobalt Strike now, other Organizations would clamor to take him in and nurture his talents. He's made a name for himself; he's on the verge of a new life. And you... you're worried..." Balder chuckled.