Mage Legend

The flickering firelight in the fireplace painted his face a shade of red, yet left ample shadows on the bridge of his nose and around his eyes. The Mage held a large goblet in his hand, never bringing it to his lips. The unique aroma of herbs and spices wafted from the chipped cup, diluting the pervasive scent of alcohol.

"Kuziman is still alive, and he has never explained the details of Moon Harbor City to the outside. However, the holy Pate has already made my contributions public, making it very difficult for Kuziman to frame me. But why hasn't the temple revealed the wrongdoings committed by Kuziman?" Lynch bit his lower lip, pondering internally, "If Kuziman were dead, the temple might overlook this matter to maintain a good relationship with the Mage Association. But now Kuziman is like a hidden trap, ready to snuff out Pate's goodwill towards the association at any moment. Don't they care about this?"

"Furthermore, Pajies accused me of sharing the secrets of spells with the Dark Elves. Could there be someone else who has been to the Underworld, knows my whereabouts, and is framing me?" Lynch recalled that dark place, thinking of the eerie tunnels and the ceaseless echoes of tormented wails within, shivering immediately. "Could it be the Drow's mages reestablishing contact with the association? Or perhaps the First Matron Briza intends to kill with a borrowed knife, directing their mages to say such things?"

"If that's the case, I'm not too worried. The worst-case scenario would be exchanging the secrets of Dark Elf spells for my freedom. After all, that's something most members of the Mage Association dream of." Lynch scratched his head, "But Zilvra's situation is extremely dangerous now. If the Drow's influence extends to the surface, no family would pass up the task of eliminating a traitor, as it is a great opportunity to please the goddess. The best move now is to quickly head north. On that ice field, no one can find her."

As Lynch began pondering how to survive winter in the Ridge Mountains, a series of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. The heavy "thump, thump" sound drifted towards the hotel from a distance, as if a large bear had learned to run on two legs and was now practicing. Regardless, the Mage felt the rhythm of this sound was very familiar.

The tavern's door was flung open by a gust of wind, and in stormed a barrel-shaped figure. A flame was burning on the silvery white armor covering the body. However, when the figure stopped wobbling, Lynch realized that it was merely the red beard on the figure's chin quivering.

"Morgan? How did you end up here?" Lynch stood up, promptly placing his Powerful Wand in front of himself. If the Dwarf lunged forward with their customary warrior embrace, the Mage couldn't handle their robust arms.

"Haha! You're indeed here, you restless wanderer." Morgan strode forward, sizing up the Mage's body, "Looks like the Elf Kingdom hasn't caused you any hardship; you've become even sturdier. But if you had eaten our Dwarf food, you would have gotten robust long ago!"

"How did you know I'd be here?" Lynch quickly arranged a seat for Morgan and asked, "Weren't you at the holy Pate?"

"Wa haha, there's nothing for me to do there for now; I'm on vacation, vacation," Morgan said, "Actually, I accompanied Wislin here to pick up guests. We need to transport some pointy-eared folks to the north. I wasn't planning to come, especially since I'd have to take a boat on the way back. But I heard that Anna would be here too. In fact, I came to dissuade her from taking a boat."

"You can't make the Elf lady walk just because you dislike water." Lynch motioned the innkeeper to quickly bring over some good wine, "Do you still remember that incident of falling into the wine cask?"

Yet, surprisingly, Dwarf Morgan didn't gulp down the ale before him but stared at the cup, swallowing hard twice. He said, "I've long forgotten about that incident, of course, except for the delicious taste of that cask of wine." He pushed the cup aside, saying with some distress, "Recently, because I lost a bet to Wislin, I can't drink for a while."

"Looks like that guy came up with a way to manage your big belly," Lynch laughed, "But it's tough on you too."

"Haha, it's nothing. My will is as strong as rock, there won't be any problems," Morgan proudly stroked his big beard, smoothing out the knots that could never be truly tamed, "Lynch, why did you come to the north this time? Were you planning to visit us?"

"Yes, though I didn't expect to meet you here." Lynch thought for a moment, "Did you encounter Knight Macken at the docks, and he told you about me?"

"Wa, haha, you guessed it completely right. It seems you don't need me to tell you the answer," Morgan said, leaning close to Lynch, "Although Macken is still somewhat down now, he's much better than when he first left Moon Harbor City. Back then, if it weren't for him, Wislin and I would never have been able to survive from there."

"These things need to be kept in mind, don't forget," Lynch joked, "But since you currently can't drink, your memory should naturally be much better than before."

"Don't mention that, it was my own bad luck too," Morgan knocked on the armor covering him, "Maybe I've strayed too far from the mountains, like a rock rolling off a cliff. Though still as hard as ever, I can't find a home, and even my luck has begun to run out. In fact, this Paladin title isn't something I wanted, it's just an honor given by Pate's Temple."

"I understand that, Morgan. They even want to posthumously honor me as a martyr, yet here I am, alive and well," Lynch looked at the Dwarf, suddenly coming up with an idea, "Morgan, if you have nothing going on at the holy Pate, how about heading to the northern mountains with me? I've already hired Knight Macken as a guide, but regarding that place..."

"Regarding that place, you naturally should ask me!" Morgan said confidently, "Besides the Dwarves of the Five Realms Mountain, we're the ones who live on the peaks of the northern Ridge Mountains. No boasting, but even with my eyes closed, I can tell you about every path and route. Our family has lived there for over tens of thousands of years, drinking snowmelt and chiseling rocks. Did you know, the highest point in the world is marked by a Dwarf standing atop the Ridge Peaks? If you go there, finding me is the right choice!"

"That's great," Lynch replied with a smile, "I've been to Wislin's hometown, the Elf kingdom, and the Halfling lands, but I've never checked out your home. Morgan, won't your house be covered in dust because you've been away so long?"

"Dust? You're kidding!" Morgan burst into laughter, "If you said it was filled with fine old wine, I might agree, but dust, not a chance. When you get to my place, I'll show you the craftsmanship of us Dwarves! Although the wine and meals made by Halflings are unquestionable—of course, your cooking isn't bad either—it's still a tad lacking compared to our master chefs. His slate-grilled meat is simply... oh! I can't stand it, I want to go back right now!"

"Alright, alright, calm down now," Lynch quickly pressed down on the Dwarf's shoulder, preventing him from suddenly bolting on impulse, "I can't use Teleportation Magic, so we can only walk step by step. We need to consider the supply issues on the road first, so you might as well settle down."

"Alright, but I'm really looking forward to seeing your expression when you see the Ridge Mountains," Morgan laughed heartily, "It'll surely be filled with astonishment! That much I guarantee!"