“By the way, where is Theresa?” Leon thought of something and asked casually.
“Theresa? You mean Lady Trovik, right? After splitting up with you, she encountered a mercenary group and decided to travel with them,” the archbishop replied before ending the communication.
“What a stubborn woman,” Leon shook his head.
Spellcasters were powerful. A spellcaster of the same level, unleashing their full power, could easily take out ten melee combatants.
But spellcasters were also fragile. The time it took to cast a spell was enough for a melee combatant of the same level to kill them ten times over.
That’s why spellcasters needed protection.
As for why a mercenary group would willingly travel with that woman?
The answer was simple. Having a spellcaster in a party exponentially increased the group’s strength and ability to handle crises. For example, comparing an elite warrior to an elite spellcaster was like comparing a laborer earning 6,000 coins a month to a senior engineer earning the same. While the laborer could only do manual work, the engineer could perform a variety of tasks—casting spells, preparing potions, and drawing on vast knowledge and wisdom. Spellcasters were highly sought after.
This was the role of spellcasters. They were the darlings of the world, known as “spell lords,” and the dream teammates of every adventurer. After years of traveling, Leon had a deep understanding of this reality. For instance, he knew that hiring an elite spellcaster for a task required at least ten gold denarii in expected returns. Otherwise, good luck convincing a “spell lord” to take action.
When Leon first crossed over, he had dreamed of becoming a spellcaster, but reality was cruel. After testing, he was found to lack sufficient magical affinity, destined never to be a spellcaster. Life wasn’t a game where you could choose your class upon entry. Only a tiny fraction of people—0.1% or fewer—possessed the necessary talent to walk the path of arcane magic. Among them, 90% remained ordinary apprentices for life. Only by breaking through to the elite tier could they truly become independent spellcasters.
But then~ Leon extended his hand, his azure eyes glowing as faint blue energy threads swirled around his fingertips before dissipating.
Thanks to the mysterious man he had encountered in the passage, Leon had learned to cast spells using psychic energy from the human brain. Thus, he was a hidden spellcaster, appearing on the surface as just a warrior—a knight of the White Wolf Knights of the Kingdom of Nord.
With enough information gathered, there was no need to wander further. Leon headed straight to the blacksmith’s shop. He had just been through a fierce battle yesterday and needed to repair his equipment and maintain his weapons.
Many people, accustomed to games, assumed that once a weapon was equipped, it could be used forever—always sharp, always in perfect condition. The RPG protagonist could wield the same weapon from start to finish. Similarly, a piece of armor could endure countless battles, remaining pristine and providing consistent protection despite slashes, gunfire, and even magical assaults.
But games were games, and reality was reality. The truth was, swords would dull and chip with use, and armor would degrade and lose its protective qualities after taking too many hits. Weapons and armor required regular maintenance, pre-battle inspections, and periodic treatments like applying sword oil.
The town’s blacksmith shop was located near the center. The old blacksmith had over twenty years of experience, and while he was undoubtedly skilled, Leon suspected that spending his entire life in this small town limited his expertise…
It probably wasn’t great. In Leon’s view, this blacksmith shop was like an RPG starting village, selling only basic, plain equipment.
Entering the blacksmith shop, Leon found that the old blacksmith could only help inspect the damage to his chainmail’s inner rings and maintain his weapons. As for the equipment hanging in the shop, Leon found none of it appealing. He picked up a standard iron longsword and swung it a few times. The cold blade flashed in the room, and from these movements alone, it was clear that Leon had exceptional skill with the sword. The blade seemed alive in his hands, moving with an eerie rhythm as it reflected the cold light around the room.
The old blacksmith was oiling Leon’s warhammer. Seeing the knight testing the sword, he glanced worriedly at a small face peeking through the doorway and shook his head slightly. But the face, filled with longing, continued to watch the knight’s swordplay.
“Hmm~ this is a good sword,” Leon set the standard longsword down and called out to the doorway, “Stop hiding. Come in!”
A boy of about fifteen or sixteen timidly entered. He was bundled in thick linen clothes and a fur robe, his face red from the cold. “H-Hello, Sir Knight!”
The boy performed a salute, though not very standard—his right hand on his left chest, left arm extended to the side, palm up.
“Hello!” Leon nodded. The old blacksmith sighed in relief. “Sir Knight, this boy is named Nym. He’s thirteen years old and awakened his class talent at eight. He’s a warrior now. Seeing you wield the sword, he probably wanted to learn something. Please forgive him.”
“Awakened his class talent at eight?!” Leon’s interest was piqued.
Class talents usually awakened around the age of seven or eight. If someone had exceptional talent, they would naturally awaken their class talent at this age, setting their future path.
Those who didn’t awaken their class talent would typically have it checked by the church between the ages of nine and thirteen. The church would assist in awakening their talent—though not for free. Those who couldn’t pay could borrow from the church. The rest would live as commoners, learning a trade or farming. A small number still had a chance to awaken their talent before turning thirty, after which the odds dropped significantly.
Once awakened, humans became known as common adventurers or warriors, forming the backbone of national armies and adventurers. In Leon’s eyes, they were still just a bunch of amateurs.
Only a few soldiers and adventurers would advance to the elite tier through constant training. These individuals were the core strength of humanity, including knights from the royal guard, elite swordsmen, and veteran adventurers and mercenaries.
Beyond that were the legendary-tier experts, whose presence could dominate a region. An army led by a legendary-tier expert was on a completely different level, and the number of such experts in a nation directly reflected its power.
As for those beyond that… Leon figured the King of Nord was at the saint-tier. How could a saint-tier expert appear in such a small town?
Awakening a class talent at seven or eight meant this boy had exceptional potential.
“Sir Knight, could you teach me how to use a sword?” The boy, who looked fifteen or sixteen but was only thirteen, gazed at the swords on the wall with longing.
“Why do you want to learn the sword?”
“To protect my family! My father’s a hunter. A few days ago, he came home covered in blood but with no prey. If I learn the sword, I can go hunting with him!” From the boy’s clothing, it seemed his family was relatively well-off. Leon became more interested and asked, “And besides hunting? Is that all you’ll use the sword for?”
“Of course not! My goal is to master the sword and become a knight’s squire, maybe even serve the lord and help eradicate evil.” The boy clenched his fists, his eyes burning with hatred. Like all humans, he had been taught from a young age to despise the monsters that killed his kind.
“Finally, I want to be like you, Sir Knight—a glorious knight wielding hammer and sword, fighting on the battlefield!” After sharing his aspirations, the boy received an approving look from the knight.
The old nobles of the former empire had been stingy and arrogant. But after the Second Chaos Invasion 150 years ago, most of them either sided with Chaos or fled south, abandoning their lands. Only a few chose to fight alongside the Savior, Ludvig.
In the end, the forces of order won, and the fate of those who had betrayed their people was predictable. Many were executed, their families stripped of titles and wealth. Over 70% of the old nobility lost everything in the post-war purge, becoming the most despised figures on the continent, looked down upon by both commoners and nobles alike.
The new nobility were mostly military nobles who had earned their lands through battlefield achievements. Compared to the old nobles, they were more approachable and lenient, though only to a degree. New laws and systems made them realize that only by increasing their population and prosperity could they ensure their income and safety. Excessive exploitation was self-destructive.
It was no surprise that young men aspired to become knight squires. Besides the salary and future bragging rights, becoming a knight’s apprentice was an important path for commoners to rise into the noble class.
Knight apprentices would follow their knights, learning and assisting them. After a few years, the best would be promoted to squires, gaining some status and the opportunity to accompany their knights into battle. Outstanding squires could become knight candidates, riding into battle and waiting for titled nobles to officially knight them, thus entering the noble class.
However, these knights were not yet like Leon, a knight of the kingdom. They were typically known as errant knights, the main difference being that they lacked fiefs. Any knight of the kingdom would have at least a small village and some land as their fief, though some, like Leon, declined fiefs and instead received regular stipends. The key difference between errant knights and knights of the kingdom was the latter’s stable income.
Those like Leon, officially knighted by the kingdom with a written decree, were fully integrated into the noble class.
For commoners, this was usually the peak of their ascent. Unless exceptional circumstances arose, nobles generally didn’t allow non-noble commoners to enter the titled nobility.
Out of interest, Leon taught the boy a few moves. Seeing that the day was growing late—winter days in Nord lasted only six hours—he needed to prepare for departure.
“Thank you, Sir Knight! May I know your name?” Leon had taught the boy the most basic sword technique of the Nord army—the Cross Sword Technique—before taking his leave.
“Leon.”
“Leon?”
“Yes, my name is Leon.”
“Wait, could you be…?”
“Haha!”
Returning to the inn, Leon found it bustling with activity. He went to his room to organize his belongings, preparing to set out.
“Sir Knight? Hello!” A middle-aged man enjoying lunch noticed Leon descending the stairs and, seeing the knight’s badge on his chest, struck up a conversation.
“Good afternoon,” Leon realized this was the imperial merchant who had joined the locals in their revelry last night.
“My name is Oliver, from the empire. May I have the honor of knowing your name, Sir Knight?” The merchant extended his hand. Leon subtly frowned. He had dealt with many merchants—they were always scheming, and their friendliness usually had ulterior motives.
“Leon. My name is Leon.”
The merchant appeared to be in his forties, with long hair, a monocle, and a lavish outfit adorned with gold and gemstone rings. However, Leon could tell they weren’t high-quality. The silver ring on the merchant’s left thumb stood out, and Leon sensed a magical aura from it. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a magical item.
Interesting!
Since he planned to have a hearty meal before setting out, Leon had time to chat with the imperial merchant. From their conversation, Leon learned that the merchant had originally traveled with a caravan. He had come to Wulan Town to collect a debt owed by the local lord. Leon noticed the merchant’s guards were well-equipped, wearing standard scale armor and carrying longswords, with two of them armed with crossbows.
A merchant’s wealth could be gauged by their guards and attire. The wilderness was dangerous, filled with monsters and bandits, but among humans, nobles and merchants were usually held for ransom rather than killed.
“Sir Knight, may I know your name?”
“My name is Leon.”
“Black hair, blue eyes, under twenty-five. When I saw you yesterday, I knew you were the hero of the Kingdom of Nord they spoke of,” Oliver said with a knowing smile, his expression slightly ingratiating.
“I never tried to hide my identity,” Leon scooped a spoonful of stew and quipped.
“Sir Leon, you don’t look like a Nord. You resemble us from the empire—specifically, the Aachen bloodline, with black hair and blue eyes. That bloodline is highly favored in the empire. Besides that, Brunswickers like me with black hair and green eyes, and Aldorfians with brown hair, are also popular,” the merchant seemed to avoid getting to the point, instead discussing bloodlines.
“Blond-haired, blue-eyed Bretons must also be well-treated in the empire, while those with red hair, yellow skin, or black skin aren’t as favored, right?” Leon chuckled. Seeing the merchant’s reluctance to get to the point, he said nothing more and focused on eating.
Emperor Charlemagne had been of the Aachen bloodline, with black hair and blue eyes. Among his original twelve Carolingian knights were Brunswickers and Aldorfians, so it was no surprise these bloodlines were favored in the empire.
Sure enough, Leon’s patience made Oliver anxious.
“Sir Leon, the wilderness around Wulan Town seems unsafe. I’ve heard the Church of Justice is pursuing a powerful evil being, so…” The merchant clearly had a request. After hinting at the situation, he tactfully asked if they could travel together, offering to cover the expenses.
“Sorry, I’ve already made plans with someone,” Leon shook his head, feigning regret.
“Plans?” The merchant looked disappointed.
“Yes, I can’t keep them waiting,” Leon donned his full armor, picked up his warhammer, and stepped out into the snow.
“May the Goddess of Luck bless your journey, Sir Knight,” the innkeeper murmured, watching Leon leave.
“Well, no choice. Franz, Mather, let’s go,” Oliver sighed. He had lingered in this town long enough and needed to depart.
“Let’s move out!”