Since Cavendish extended the invitation, I naturally wouldn’t refuse. I rose and walked over directly. Sure enough, that fat pig Raymond was seated beside an elderly man around fifty, with several young apprentices standing respectfully behind them. They wore identical red-and-black alchemist robes—clearly Cavendish’s disciples.

Raymond’s glare at me was venomous enough to wish my ancestors ill, but he held his tongue with the master present.

Cavendish glanced at the Magic Emblem on my chest. Without rising, he gestured to the empty seat on his right. "Lord Black, please sit."

I’d noted Cavendish held dual titles as both a Master Alchemist and a 6th-tier Mage, yet wore black mage robes—a clear preference for his mage identity. After all, mages were rarer and far more revered than alchemists.

Seated, Cavendish spoke slowly. "Rumors say Prince Hughes, who never took apprentices, accepted one just before departing for the Snowy Wasteland. Many colleagues are curious—including this old man."

*How did they hear so fast?* I’d only registered at the Association three days ago, yet it felt like the whole world knew.

"My master believes my talent is exceptional. He wishes me to inherit his legacy."

"Talent? If even an Archmage sees potential in you, your future is limitless."

"I merely hope to walk further along the path of Truth."

"The path of Truth is elusive—a castle in the air, a moon on water. At fifty-three, I remain but a 6th-tier Mage. I fear I’ll never touch the realm of Archmage."

"You mistake it, Master. Truth’s allure lies in its unpredictability. Perhaps your path is merely a wall away—a single breakthrough to new horizons."

"Your voice is young, yet your insight is profound. Truly worthy of Prince Hughes’s disciple. If anyone can surpass this old man’s reach for Truth, it is you. We both belong to the Starlight School now—I may yet seek your counsel."

"Your praise is too kind, Master. Before Truth, all are equal—age, talent, and birth mean nothing..."

*Magic has been divided into seven schools since the Second Era. To share a school with this alchemy master...* My heart leapt secretly.

And so, Cavendish and I exchanged lofty words about Truth while Raymond sat baffled, unable to interrupt. His fury simmered. This reception was his rare chance to impress. If the master praised him to old Scott, his family status would soar. Yet that damned mage monopolized Cavendish’s attention—leaving him no opening. How could he not seethe?

46

Truthfully, I was anxious too. Cavendish’s idle chatter masked probing questions. His lukewarm attitude made it clear he wasn’t fond of me. If this dragged on till the auction ended, he’d simply walk away.

I gritted my teeth and cut to the chase. "I’ve long heard, Master Cavendish, that your Skin Mask alchemy is peerless across the continent. Many spies pay fortunes for them."

A flicker crossed Cavendish’s eyelids. He stroked his beard leisurely. "A humble skill, overpraised by friends."

"You’re too modest. I require a custom Skin Mask. Might you..."

Cavendish fell silent, then sighed. "Custom work is troublesome. My reputation demands perfection for every piece. And my orders... I’m stretched thin."

Raymond seized his chance. "Exactly! The master has a major deal with my family—he’s swamped!"

*This fat pig doesn’t know his place.* But needing his help, I softened my tone. "Skin Masks aren’t overly complex. For a master like you, it wouldn’t take long."

Cavendish pondered as if wrestling with his conscience. Finally: "We’re colleagues... and kindred spirits in Truth. I’ll help. A special price—1,000 gold coins."

*Holy shit! Why not just rob me?!* Does this old coot know how massive 1,000 gold is?!

Sensing my outrage, Cavendish smiled faintly, stroking his beard. "My prices are fair. If it’s too steep, seek lesser alchemists—but don’t expect quality or realism."

To fool even parents? Only a master’s work would suffice. But 1,000 gold... I had no rich friends here.

Raymond’s fat pig face gloated. "Hah! No coin, yet you dare trouble a master? I’ve got gold to spare. Return my woman, kneel publicly to apologize, and I *might* lend you the money."

"*Your* woman?" Cavendish frowned, unaware of our feud.

"Master, I was betrothed to a merchant’s daughter—we marry soon. But this vile mage stole her at first sight!"

*The villain accuses first!* Though his words held truth, I couldn’t let him ruin my plan. "No marriage contract exists between you and Emily. She signed a work contract with me *willingly*. Raymond, you slander a mage’s honor—you slander Truth’s earthly incarnation! You trample sacred Truth with your filthy hooves!"

"Screw your Truth—! I mean, stop slapping fancy labels on me! The whole Merchant Guild knows you stole my woman! And you defiled her purity the same day—beast! Utter beast!"

"Raymond, slander Truth’s vessel again, and I’ll punish you in Truth’s name."

"Damn it, can you shut up about Truth?!"

"Fool! Truth’s radiance tolerates no filth from your mouth! ..."