Book 3, Chapter 43 (1/2)

Just Youth

Richard’s rune convention had made island 7-2 the focus of the entire Sacred Alliance once more. The event had barely come to an end before invitation cards were piling up on Richard’s desks like snow. Powerful families with great status hoped for him to attend their private banquets, guaranteeing the presence of elders with power. Those with lesser status even hoped to visit him at his convenience.

The old steward was shocked by it all. He ignored his injuries and forced himself off his bed, personally going out to accept and arrange all the invitations and name cards. He brought along two literate attendants and had them record the appeals of each family, organising the invitations into separate categories to make it easy for Richard to go through them.

Most surprising was that the Wellinburg Family had an invitation in there as well!

This family had the highest status amongst those sending the invitations. Those with more power, like the royal family, would rather send representatives of sufficient status to contact Richard privately and extend an in-person invitation. It should have been the same with the Wellinburgs, but this invitation represented a change in their attitude. The family’s silhouette had once been present amongst those who supported the Archerons’ enemies from behind.

The old steward carefully placed this invitation right in the middle of Richard’s desk, positioning it very neatly.

……

Just as the convention ended, Richard had been worried about how he would leave the Temple of Glory. Fortunately, a group of royal guards squeezed into the eastern hall and solved his problem. At the helm was Prince Mordent, the representative of the entire royal family and a mouthpiece for His Majesty Philip. The Prince announced that Richard was officially a royal runemaster from that day forth, and that he would report directly to the Emperor.

This news was shocking in a way, but in another it was not. It sounded unbelievable for a seventeen-year-old boy to become a royal runemaster, but one who could build rune sets definitely qualified for the position.

The guards escorted Richard out of the Temple of Glory, bringing him to a small and quiet building on the mountain behind Faust. Although this wasn’t a floating island, it was still royal territory. Some of the lesser royals lived here, so people could not just come and go as they pleased.

A fine feast was prepared on the top floor of the building. When Richard walked into the room, he saw two people sitting on opposite ends of the table stand up to welcome him.

One of them was a handsome boy who looked to be under twenty, his eyes shining like morning stars. The initial impression he gave others was that he was very normal, without any aura of power, but Richard felt a faint pressure coming from him. His most eye-catching characteristic was that he looked so delicate and pretty that one couldn’t tell his gender. If he changed into female clothing, he would look like a top-class beauty that surpassed even elves. In this regard, he beat even Richard himself.

Next to the boy was a tall young man who seemed 24 or 25. He was well-built but not too much so, his proportions flawless with his valiant aura exposed for everyone to see. Every muscle on his body seemed able to call forth a thunderous power at any time.

Richard felt a sting in his eye when gazing upon him, as if he was shot with a tiny amount of electricity. Most attention-grabbing were the faint patterns on the youth’s exposed chest and forearms. Such numerous and complicated arrays, covering almost all of his body… If it wasn’t a grade 4 rune, it had to be some kind of set.

“Welcome, Richard! I’m Nyris, the fourth son of that moody Emperor Philip. You can just call me Nyr.”

Richard bowed in respect, following the most stringent of noble etiquette, “It is an honour to meet you, Your Highness Nyris.”

The prince waved it off with a smile, “Don’t be so restrained. The thing I hate the most is all this complicated etiquette, it’s all just a waste of invaluable time! This fellow is always chiding me, saying wasting time is no different from wasting divine grace. To waste fifteen years is a waste of a Torrent of Life.”

Richard greatly sympathised with Nyris’ words; he wished he could put every second he was in Norland to use. Countless issues were waiting for him to deal with them, and every day he spent here was ten days passed in Faelor. He was losing divine grace!

Nyris pointed to the tall young man, “This guy is called Agamemnon. He’s amazing, normal people can’t beat him! He’s the youngest son of the Ironblood Duke.”

Agamemnon stretched out a hand, “Agamemnon.”