The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Suddenly, the mirror resting on Desmond's knees shimmered, illuminating the reflection of a resplendently attired Clementine. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if she had anticipated Desmond's call. Sporting a radiant smile, she greeted him, "Well, well, little Desmond, what brings you here?"

Clementine exuded an air of elegance, her garments immaculate, and her visage adorned with exquisite trinkets. The opulent backdrop reflected her noble bearing, emphasizing her regal demeanor.

However, beneath her aristocratic façade, there lingered a mischievous and cunning smile, a contrast to her refined appearance.

"I need you to disseminate a public statement, claiming that I was attacked by my pet while attempting to feed it," Desmond asserted, raising the glass to his lips with a single hand.

His bandaged arm, the absence of a limb, and faint traces of residual magic cast a solemn pall over the atmosphere.

Clementine's countenance shifted from playfulness to concern. "What has happened to you? Oh my goodness! Tell me everything," she implored, her gaze growing stern, resembling that of a mother witnessing her child's injury.

Unflinchingly, Desmond responded devoid of emotion, "I want you to circulate the rumor that I was assailed by a savage beast."

Clementine's initial worry gave way to a sigh, her features marked by conflicting emotions. "Very well. Do you require assistance? Have you contacted your mother? Should I bring some medicine?" Her concern for Desmond's well-being was evident.

Perplexed by Clementine's actions, Desmond regarded her as nothing more than an acquaintance, their relationship built upon mutual advantage. Perhaps due to the frigid nature of his soul, a hardened killer at his core, he remained unfamiliar with, or unable to comprehend, such sentiments.

"Why do you care so deeply?" he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Of course I care! You are my future son-in-law. How can I bear to see my son-in-law suffer from such injuries?" Clementine retorted, her tone sharp.

Desmond rolled his eyes, retorting, "I understand now. Thank you for your concern. I do require your assistance in procuring the appropriate medicine to heal this wound." Graciously, he added, "Consider it a debt owed. Thank you."

Desmond swiftly dispelled the enchantment, deactivating his spell, and snapped his fingers three times to summon a maid. "Yes, young master?" the servant responded promptly. Although the maid was not Laura or Annie, Desmond felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that a less experienced maid wouldn't be burdened with such a complex task.

There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, albeit fleeting, as he had grown accustomed to their familiarity and efficiency.

"I need you to compose a letter addressed to my parents and arrange for it to be sent via Pegasus if necessary. It is imperative that I inform them of my current circumstances within the next three years," Desmond instructed, fully aware that relying on magic was out of the question, given his status as a non-practicing wizard and the unknown whereabouts of his parents.

Despite his plea for the letter to be sent "with utmost haste," his parents had yet to return home, even after a year had passed since Alice's departure.

Initially plagued by doubts of abandonment, fearing his parents had forsaken him and Alice to start anew, Desmond's suspicions were assuaged when he accidentally overheard Krox and Grimm's conversation the previous night.

"Understood, young master," the maid acknowledged dutifully.

With the pressing matters at hand attended to, Desmond finally allowed himself a moment of respite, savoring his meal while contemplating alternative avenues for healing his hand, aside from seeking aid from the second wizard or his parents.

...

Later in the afternoon, within the bustling town square, a solitary bird stirred confusion among the merchants. It flitted about for hours, causing the shopkeepers to believe it was in search of sustenance. In a well-intentioned gesture, they placed food on their stalls, hoping to satiate the creature's hunger.

Yet, even after consuming the offerings, the bird remained unfulfilled, eventually departing from the Capital City, making its way towards the northern realms.

Winging its way through verdant forests and serene villages, the avian voyager finally arrived at Helmfirth, a city renowned for its ethereal floating buildings. Founded during the undivided era of the human empire, it stood as one of the first-generation cities, a testament to its storied history.

Despite the city's age, its architectural splendor surpassed even that of the capital in the North Kingdom, a testament to the recent efforts under King Edward's reign. The city's towering structures were fortified with formidable fortresses, reminiscent of a time when savage beastly raids had to be repelled, safeguarding the city and its denizens.

Among the various structures in Helmfirth, the North Academy stood as the sole floating edifice, a colossal marvel soaring high into the heavens. Remarkably, its ethereal presence did not obstruct the warm rays of the sun, as if powered by an enigmatic force yet to be fully comprehended.

While the North Academy was not the pioneering floating building, having been previously implemented within the Imperial Empire, its adoption in the North Kingdom had only come to fruition recently.

...

The bird, having beheld the awe-inspiring sight of the floating academy, descended gracefully in a nearby forest, undergoing a transformation that morphed it into the burly man who had once intercepted Desmond's escape. With resolute steps, he strode towards the city gate of Helmfirth, presenting his identity and parting with a handful of gold coins to secure his passage.

Helmfirth, in stark contrast to the capital of the North Kingdom, was afflicted by deep-rooted corruption and rampant criminal activity. The city served as an ideal hub for their organization, but when Weston proposed the construction of the North Academy in such a locale, vehement objections arose.

Weston argued that the academy would serve as a beacon of justice, testing the mettle of its students. Despite the inherent risks, he firmly believed that aspiring wizards ought to be challenged, not coddled.

Following the establishment of the academy, crime rates experienced a noticeable decline, yet they stubbornly persisted.

...

Having paid the required fee to the vigilant guards, the burly man navigated through the bustling streets until he reached the raucous tavern, a popular gathering spot for locals seeking entertainment and respite. As the day waned, the tavern brimmed with life, a melting pot where a variety of vices could be indulged in.

For the burly man, this environment held no unfamiliarity, for he was no stranger to the shadows and illicit dealings that shrouded such places.

Weaving his way through the thronging crowd, his eyes took in scenes of gambling, revelry, and the unmistakable signs of debauchery. Fractious altercations frequently erupted, brawls breaking out like untamed storms in the volatile tavern.

The air grew thick with the acrid scent of smoke, mingling with the tang of sweat and the heady aroma of alcohol, enveloping the room in a sensory haze. The clamor of clinking glasses and boisterous voices reverberated through the space, filling it with an almost overwhelming cacophony.

Meanwhile, patrons instinctively made way for the burly man, recognizing his presence and granting him passage. Advancing towards the back entrance, he stepped into the dimly lit room, revealing his boss Krox, surrounded by a retinue of women.

Perfume lingered heavily in the air, intensifying the already charged atmosphere. As Krox caught sight of the burly man, he ceased his activities, dismissing the women with a wave of his hand.

"Have you uncovered the identity of the individual?" Krox inquired, donning his attire and settling onto the couch, summoning a woman to sit beside him.

"No, Master. I lost their trail," the burly man, Brock, replied with a lowered gaze.

Frustration etched across Krox's face, his grip on the woman's shoulder tightening until she let out a pained scream. His hold grew stronger, until the force caused her life to slip away.

Brock watched in fear as the life drained from the woman, his voice trembling as he tried to placate Krox. "I saw him enter the clothing shop owned by the former nobleman, Albin."

Krox's interest piqued at the mention of Albin's shop. "Interesting. It seems Grimm has a new assignment. You may leave," he said dismissively to Brock.

As Krox stood, the lifeless body of the woman fell to the floor. His gaze briefly lingered on her before a shadowy mouth emerged from the ground, devouring her remains, leaving no trace behind.