Chapter 191. Official Visit .Final Part

The Gamble King's chapter is coming in a few hours, too! Sorry for the late chapters, they were meant to be uploaded in the afternoon, but I had to take care of an unexpected event today. Hope the chapter's enjoyable!

A vain, proud, and hypocritical man. The kind who'd lecture you about duty while stepping on everyone below him to climb higher.

That was what Arthur had said about the general when Adom asked him what kind of man Magnus was.

And Adom wasn't sure if that was the reason he didn't like him right now, but he didn't like the man.

If killing intent, or just bad intent, was perceptible the way some people claimed—some kind of sixth sense that let you feel danger before it arrived—Adom had no doubt this man would be reeking of it. His mouth was saying things his eyes didn't seem to agree with. The smile didn't reach past his teeth. The handshake had been too firm, held a beat too long, like Magnus was testing him. Seeing if he'd flinch.

Adom hadn't.

And now he was testing Magnus right back.

The general stood there, one hand still raised in that apologetic gesture, waiting for Adom to back down. To smile. To say something like, Of course, General, I understand. Eren can wait outside.

Adom didn't say that.

He just watched Magnus's face. Waited for a reaction. Any reaction.

The silence stretched.

Behind him, Eren had gone completely still. Adom could feel the boy's anxiety like a physical weight pressing against his back.

The guards at the gate were watching. The knights who'd parted for Magnus were watching. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath.

Magnus's smile didn't move. But something shifted behind his eyes. Just for a second. A flicker of something that might have been surprise. Or calculation. Or anger wrapped in so many layers of discipline that it barely made it to the surface before getting buried again.

There it is.

Adom felt a small, petty satisfaction at seeing it. At knowing he'd gotten under the man's skin, even if only for a heartbeat.

Because yes, it was petty. Incredibly so. He was old enough to accept that side of himself and use it when he deemed it fit.

And right now, he deemed it very fit.

Because Magnus had no right to dismiss Eren. Not without Adom's permission. Not when they'd clearly arrived together. Not when Eren was standing two steps behind him like any apprentice would stand behind their mentor in an official setting.

The general knew that. He had to know that. But he'd tried anyway, probably expecting Adom to defer to his authority, his rank, his age and experience and the forty years he'd spent serving the empire.

Expecting everyone to remember their place.

Except Adom's place, according to the token he carried and the hierarchy the empire itself had established, was higher than Magnus's. A magus outranked a general. Not by much. Not in most practical situations. But in matters of protocol? In situations where respect and deference mattered?

A magus had the edge.

So this was a test. Not just for Magnus, but for Adom. To see how the general would react when a magus—who was higher in the hierarchy than even him—contested a thing he'd said. To see if Magnus would respect that hierarchy when it didn't suit him. Or if his courtesy was only for show.

Adom had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Magnus was clearly in the emperor's faction. Had been for years. In fact, he'd been one of the people who'd pushed hardest for Arthur's early retirement after everything that happened with the crown prince. He'd tried to isolate Arthur first, sending him north to command a fort in the middle of nowhere. When that hadn't worked—when Arthur had somehow thrived there anyway, turned the posting into another accomplishment instead of the punishment it was meant to be—Magnus had pulled incredible strings to force the commander of the Iron Wolves into retirement before he'd even grown a shred of silver hair.

Adom remembered the look on his father's face when he'd come home that final time. He wasn't angry. Just tired. Like he'd finally accepted something he'd been fighting against for years.

I'm done, son. It's over.

What do you mean it's over?

I mean I'm not going back. They won. I mean... I'm done.

Adom understood that if there was going to be a change in power—from the current emperor to Morgana—he would eventually have to face men like Magnus. Men who'd spent decades building their positions in the current regime and who wouldn't let go easily.

So maybe fighting him here would be the safer option. Hurting the man enough now that he wouldn't be able to oppose them later.

It was cold. But Adom was sure Magnus would be a problem.

Not one he couldn't deal with, though. Not even right now.

In a pure physical fight? Maybe he'd be slightly inferior. Magnus had forty years of combat experience, discipline, training and real battles.

But with magic?

With magic, he could take care of Magnus easily. Right here. Right now.

The thought settled in his chest with a strange kind of calm. He could kill Magnus in this courtyard if he needed to.

He wouldn't. Obviously. That would be insane. Murdering a general in broad daylight in front of dozens of witnesses would turn Adom into exactly the kind of threat the emperor's faction claimed mages were.

But he could.

And some part of him wanted Magnus to know that. The general's smile widened slightly.

"Of course," he said. His voice was warm and accommodating. "I should have assumed. The Archmage's disciple would naturally be included in discussions involving his master. My mistake."

He turned and started walking again, gesturing for them both to follow.

Just like that.

No argument. No pushback. No sign that anything had just happened beyond a minor miscommunication.

Adom didn't buy it for a second.

He glanced back at Eren. The boy looked like he'd just watched someone juggle knives while blindfolded and had no idea if he should be impressed or terrified. His face was pale. His eyes were wide.

Adom gave him a small nod. It's fine. Come on.

They fell into step behind Magnus. Adom matched his pace easily as Eren scrambled to keep up.

The hallway they entered was wide and well-lit. Arched ceilings. Stone walls with veins of some mineral running through them that caught the light from the glow-stones embedded at intervals. Their footsteps echoed.

Magnus didn't speak.

Didn't look back.

Just walked like he assumed they'd follow him anywhere he led.

And Adom realized, with a kind of distant amusement, that this was going to be the game. This was how Magnus operated. Smiling. Courteous. Agreeable on the surface. Never giving anyone an excuse to call him out. Never showing his hand.

But testing. Always testing. Pushing just hard enough to see what you were made of. Retreating smoothly when you pushed back. Filing away everything he learned for later use.

Fine. I could play that game.

Magnus pushed the door open.

Adom had been expecting the full Council of Magi. Twelve chairs arranged in a semicircle, robes in different colors representing different branches of magical study, stern faces ready to judge whether he was worth their time.

Instead, Merlin leaning against a bookshelf like he'd been waiting for hours and was bored of it. Beth standing by the window with her arms crossed and the Archmage in his usual spot.

And for the first time in this life, the man himself.

Lord Mephtilem.

The Chancellor.

They all turned to look as the door opened. All except Beth, who kept her gaze on whatever was outside.

Adom's body moved before his mind caught up. Right fist over his heart. Left arm stretched behind him, hand flat, fingers together. Head bowed just enough to show respect without groveling.

The salute reserved for the Chancellor alone.

He held it for three seconds, then shifted to salute the Archmage—right fist to chest, left at his side this time, a shallower bow.

"At ease," the Chancellor said.

His voice was warm. Actually warm, not the fake warmth people in power practiced in mirrors.

He smiled—bright, genuine—and stood.

Adom had always been impressed by the man's height. No matter how normalized it had become over the years, no matter how many times he'd seen images of the Chancellor at state functions or addressing crowds, the reality of it hit different. Well over seven feet. Tall enough that when he moved, the space around him seemed to rearrange itself to accommodate.

Dark cloak, the sort that looked like it cost more than most people's yearly income but somehow didn't seem pretentious on him. Brown hair that fell in a way that made Adom think of a lion—wild but controlled, like it had been styled to look unstylable. One eye amber. The other brown, but not the kind of brown you saw on anyone else. Reddish in a way that shouldn't exist, like someone had mixed pigments that didn't belong together and somehow made it work.

Imposing wasn't the right word. Imposing implied he was trying.

And the smell.

Not overpowering, but close. Rich. Layered.

The Chancellor crossed the room in a few long strides and grabbed Adom by the shoulders.

Both hands. Firm grip.

Then he did the accolade: right shoulder, left shoulder, both again.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet the famed Magus Sylla."

Adom blinked.

"I've heard so many things about you," the Chancellor continued. He was still smiling and holding Adom's shoulders like they were old friends. "I've been following you for a very, very long time."

"Is that so?"

The Chancellor laughed like Adom had said something delightful.

"Yes. I was even a fan of yours during your 'ghost' years as a krozball player. Brilliant. In every way."

"You flatter me, my lord."

"Nonsense." The Chancellor's grip tightened just slightly. "A man should be given his flowers without having to feel shy about it. You deserve it. Take it with pride."

Adom smiled. "Thank you."

The Chancellor let go, stepped back, and his gaze shifted to Eren.

He looked at him for a long moment. Then turned to the Archmage. Then back to Eren.

"Gaius," he said. "Is this your disciple?"

"That would be him," the Archmage said.

Eren was still saluting. Stiff. Perfect form.

The Chancellor walked over and did the same for him—shoulders, accolade, smile.

"An honor," he said to Eren.

Eren's voice came out steady. "The honor is mine, Lord Chancellor."

"Where are the other magi?" Adom asked.

"The meeting was cancelled," Gaius said. "We had an official visit from the Chancellor."

The Chancellor laughed. "I'm sorry for that."

"You're lying." Gaius's tone was flat. "You're enjoying this."

The Chancellor laughed harder.

Adom wasn't surprised by the way Gaius talked to him. The Archmage was ranked the same as the Chancellor in the empire—two pillars holding up different parts of the structure. The Chancellor handled taxation, provincial governance, military logistics, trade agreements, all the grinding bureaucratic machinery that kept an empire from collapsing under its own weight.

Gaius handled everything magical. Dispatch and management of mages. Research approval. Regulation of artifacts. Anything that involved channeling power through a human body or object went through him eventually.

So, no surprise that Gaius didn't bow and scrape.

But the rchmage, for all his moods and quirks, rarely looked this sour in front of someone this cheerful.

Adom knew Gaius didn't like the Chancellor. He'd say there was always something "wrong" with the man. Wouldn't elaborate. Just "wrong," like he could sense a frequency no one else heard.

You'd understand if you spent enough time with him, he'd said.

And even to Adom, the Chancellor was a mystery.

In his past life, after the empire fell, the man had vanished. No corpse. No rumors. No sightings in some far-off kingdom under a new name. Just gone. Adom had assumed he was dead—warlords didn't usually let the previous regime's leadership retire peacefully—but now he had doubts about that.

No reason for the doubts. Nothing concrete.

Or maybe it was because he'd started seeing the Chancellor as an enemy he'd have to deal with eventually.

To his knowledge, the man wasn't a mage. Just a human with an incredible intellect and the charisma to weaponize it.

"This was an official visit," the Chancellor said. He was still smiling, but his tone shifted just enough. "And as much as I'd like to keep sitting and talking, it seems it's time for me to go now. I was only passing through." He glanced at Adom. "You missed some good tea I brought, though. I had it sent to your office earlier, a special blend. I was told you liked tea, so I thought you might appreciate it."

"Thank you, Lord Chancellor." Adom said as he eyed the Archmage, trying to communicate. You told him?

Gaius shrugged, the gesture barely perceptible.

The General's jaw tightened just so. Beth was still silent, looking at the window. Merlin was just sitting there, he wasn't really the kind to talk when he didn't need to.

"Don't mention it," Mephtilem cut in. "It was from an old acquaintance of yours, too."

That made Adom pause.

"The Guildmaster of the now-dissolved Crimson Scale," Mephtilem continued. "Tresh Mavarin. She's in the Duchy of Ghilverin now. Quite a successful venture with special blends of tea, from what I hear." He looked at Adom like he was waiting for something. "I was told your family's merchant guild—the Wangara—put the Crimson Scale out of business a while ago?"

Adom kept his expression smooth. "It was simply the laws of the market."

The Chancellor laughed. "Madam Mavarin said the same thing."

And there it was.

The thing under the surface.

This man had gone back years. He'd tracked down Tresh Mavarin—someone Adom hadn't thought about in years, someone who'd been a footnote in the Wangara's expansion—and he'd done it casually enough to bring up tea like it was a fun little anecdote.

He did not just look into his recent work or just read reports from the academy or asking Gaius what kind of person he was.

No, the chancellor had been going back. Meeting people. Connecting dots.

And now he was here, smiling, making it clear without saying a word: I'm watching you.

Adom smiled back. "Thank you. I'll enjoy the tea."

The Chancellor looked satisfied. Like he'd gotten the reaction he wanted.

"Oh," he said, turning toward the door. "Before I forget—"

He snapped his fingers.

The door opened.

Adom turned.

Not toward the door they'd entered through. The other one—carved wood, heavy hinges, positioned opposite the window where Beth still stood with her arms crossed.

It opened.

The Chancellor's voice followed him as he moved. Still warm and conversational.

"You're aware, of course, of the recent legislative developments." Mephtilem gestured vaguely. "The Senate convened three times in the past month. Emergency sessions. Very productive, all things considered."

A woman stepped through the doorway.

Adom watched her enter while the Chancellor kept talking.

"The war effort has necessitated certain… adjustments. Protections, really. For our most valuable assets."

She was short.

Notably so, barely came up to Adom's shoulder. But the way she carried herself made her seem like she took up more space than she actually did. An elf. The ears gave it away, though she'd clearly tried to minimize them by pulling her blonde hair back tight against her skull. Functional clothing: leather, reinforced at the joints, designed for movement. No visible weapons, but that didn't mean anything.

"Farmus has been making troubling alliances," the Chancellor continued. His tone stayed light and unconcerned. "The elves in the Qínglóng Empire have formally committed troops. The orc clans in the Ashridge territories as well. We're estimating an additional forty thousand soldiers on their side by spring. Possibly more if the centaur tribes decide to break neutrality."

The woman stopped three paces inside the room.

She looked at Adom.

Then she bowed lightly. A brief inclination of the head, nothing more. She held it for exactly three seconds.

"Our magi are the backbone of the empire's magical strength," Mephtilem said. He was walking now, slow circuit around the room. Hands clasped behind his back. "Without them, we'd be defenseless against enemies who wield magic against us. With them, we maintain superiority. But that makes them targets. High-value targets. You understand."

Adom caught it.

Just for a second.

The ghost of a smile on Magnus's face.

It wasn't smug, not quite. But satisfied. Like someone who'd just watched a trap snap shut exactly the way he'd designed it.

"Magus Sylla," the Chancellor said. He stopped beside the woman. "This is Peregrine Hook."

The woman didn't move or speak.

She just stood there, waiting.

"Miss Hook is a specialist," Mephtilem continued. "Trained in the Imperial Academy's special operations program. Graduated top of her class. Served in the Shadows for six years before this assignment."

Shadows.

Adom knew what that meant.

The empire had maybe three dozen of them. Elite operatives assigned exclusively to the imperial family and the Chancellor himself. They didn't guard buildings or patrol borders. They guarded people. Stuck close enough to intervene in an assassination attempt.

Or, in the case Adom was suspecting, close enough to hear every conversation. Always aware of where their charge was, every second of every day.

"The Senate passed legislation formalizing the Magus Protection Initiative two days ago," the Chancellor said. "Every registered magus is to be assigned a dedicated guardian. For their safety. Given recent events, your attack in Arkhos, for example—"

Adom looked at him.

The Chancellor smiled. "I was told you dealt with them quite efficiently. I'm not certain whether they're still alive or dead. If they survived, I'd be happy to take them for interrogation."

"I killed them," Adom said. He was already regretting not taking them down somewhere more private.

"How unfortunate." The Chancellor's expression didn't change. "And their bodies?"

So you want your homonculi back, don't you? Adom thought. He probably wanted to repurpose them, study them, use them for something else.

"I incinerated them," Adom said.

The general's face darkened. "You had no right to—"

The Chancellor raised a hand, cutting him off and laughed. "Ruthless. I appreciate that, Magus Adom. Truly. After an attempt on your life, you had every right to eliminate the threat completely. I understand."

Adom nodded.

"Which is exactly why," the Chancellor continued, smile fading back to neutrality, "we felt it was prudent to implement the program immediately."

There it was.

Adom felt it click.

The reason Gaius looked like he'd been chewing glass all afternoon. The reason Beth was staring out the window instead of participating. The reason the Chancellor had come here personally instead of sending a messenger.

They were monitoring him.

No.

They were monitoring all the magi. Officially. Legally. With Senate approval and imperial backing.

But it was for him.

He was sure of it.

The timing was too convenient. The Chancellor showing up personally was too pointed. Magnus's expression was too smug.

They knew something. Or they suspected something. And this was their solution, wrap surveillance in legislation, call it protection, make it impossible to refuse without looking suspicious.

"I'm honored by the empire's concern for my safety," Adom said.

His voice came out smooth. Calm.

"Of course you are." The Chancellor smiled. "I knew you'd understand. Miss Hook will accompany you everywhere from this point forward. Classes, meals, personal appointments. She's been briefed on your schedule and your habits. She'll remain unobtrusive, naturally. You won't even notice her most of the time."

Peregrine Hook's expression didn't change.

"And if I decline?" Adom asked.

The Chancellor's smile widened. "The legislation doesn't allow for declination, I'm afraid. It's mandatory. For all magi. The Senate was very clear on that point."

"How considerate of them."

"We care deeply about our magi, Magus Sylla. Surely you can appreciate the empire's desire to keep you safe. Especially given your recent brush with danger." Mephtilem tilted his head slightly. "Unless you have some reason to prefer being unguarded?"

And there was the trap.

Refuse, and he looked like he had something to hide. Like he didn't want protection because protection meant observation. Accept, and he had a trained imperial operative shadowing him constantly, reporting back to whoever held her leash.

Adom smiled. "Of course not, Lord Chancellor. I'm grateful for the concern."

"Wonderful." Mephtilem clapped his hands together once. "Then it's settled. Miss Hook, you're dismissed to familiarize yourself with Magus Sylla's quarters and routine. I'm sure the Archmage's staff can provide you with any necessary access credentials."

Peregrine bowed her head. Still silent.

She turned and left through the same door she'd entered.

The room felt heavier after she was gone.

Adom glanced at Gaius. The Archmage was staring at the ceiling like he was trying to burn a hole through it with his mind.

Magnus was still smiling.

They finally made a bold move, huh?