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Chapter 114 - Mellifluous

Not long after, Livius returned with a small pouch resembling a coin purse, but instead, it held bullets.

Upon entering the room, Livius's gaze fell upon Marcellus, who was standing by the desk. Livius still wore his customary blue robe and appeared nonchalant in Marcellus's presence. Marcellus, on the other hand, had shed his mantle, revealing an off-white top, brown trousers, and his familiar sandals.

"I'm quite certain I pointed you in the direction of the books before I left, yet you still haven't chosen one," Livius greeted Marcellus as he emphatically placed the pouch of bullets on the desk.

Marcellus responded with a calm demeanour, fully aware of Livius's attempts to provoke him. "I believe you were instructed to impart some knowledge, but I'm uncertain about what to select."

Livius chuckled sardonically. "Haha, this is amusing. Do I resemble Edwin to you? I'm pretty sure he mentioned Edwin," he gestured towards the partition, "You can start with any book. We'll continue our mysticism lessons on the day I'm tasked with copying scrolls tonight."

Taking Livius's advice to heart, Marcellus decided to seek more guidance. "What book would you recommend I begin with?"

Livius contemplated for a moment, all the while meticulously cleaning and preparing his flintlock pistol on the wooden table. After completing the task, he responded, "As Stormseekers, we typically start with the basics. If you're not particularly dense, you can skip ahead to languages because not all books are written in Valar. Although High Valar is the official language, you'll need to learn other languages to access a wider range of texts."

Marcellus couldn't help but scoff inwardly. He had encountered his fair share of annoying individuals, but Livius, a mere urchin draped in blue robes, managed to top the list.

Livius's suggestion to learn other languages was far from practical; in Draewyn, only nobles, appointed members of the empire, or wealthy merchants spoke High Valar, he had to start from there.

It didn't take Marcellus long to locate a book detailing the languages of Draewyn, specifically the transition from High Valar to Valar. With the tome in hand, he picked up his mantle and made his way out of the Hold. Just as he was about to step over the entrance threshold, he heard Livius's chuckle, which only served to fuel his irritation further.

The following morning, just as the first rays of sunlight kissed the horizon, Marcellus adhered to his usual routine and awakened with the dawn. To his surprise, he found that the hearth had hardly grown cold, His entire night had been consumed by his reading.

While the transformation into a Hollowed had not granted him any discernible enhancements in his mental faculties, the tantalizing prospect of becoming a sword saint in less than four years, equivalent to a mere three months in real time, reassured him of his latent potential.

After a rigorous two to three hours of training with Finn, Marcellus made his way to the chapel. As he entered, his gaze fell upon Edwin and Martia engaged in conversation. Martia, still cloaked in his classic black mantle, appeared untroubled by the attention of onlookers, while Edwin had opted for a more casual cream-coloured tunic.

"Hello, Sir Edwin, Ser Martia," Marcellus greeted them, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Martia regarded him with suspicion. "Edwin's no sir," she remarked.

Marcellus acknowledged this fact but offered no rebuttal or apology. Instead, he simply turned his gaze to Edwin, a silent challenge for the man to speak up and defend himself.

Edwin, however, remained silent, offering a gentle smile to Marcellus. He then turned his attention to Martia and stated, "The ships are departing; make sure to secure one for the lady. That's all."

Returning his focus to Marcellus, Edwin inquired, "You're early. Did you manage to get any sleep?"

Marcellus, feeling the weight of exhaustion, replied, "No, I slept quite soundly."

Edwin pointed towards the lower levels and suggested, "Let's head to the Hold. We'll continue our mysticism lessons this morning."

Marcellus nodded in agreement and followed Edwin as they descended the stairs. Upon reaching the Hold, they discovered Livius, slumbering at the desk, with his flintlock pistol resting beside him, scrolls scattered about, and more waiting to be transcribed.

Curious about the day's lesson, Marcellus inquired, "What will we be learning today?"

Edwin drew out his response, adding an air of intrigue, and said, "Today, we'll delve into both complex and fundamental knowledge. But before we begin, allow me to teach you an interesting trick."

With an impish glint in his eye, Edwin leaned closer to Marcellus and whispered conspiratorially, "Watch this."

In a sudden burst of mischief, he produced a small vial from his pocket, filled with a particularly pungent substance known as "Hammoniacus sal (smelling salt to be technic)" Gently, Edwin uncorked the vial and waved it under Livius's nose.

The effect was nothing short of spectacular.

Livius jolted awake, his eyes widening in shock and alarm. He sprang up from his slumber with a loud yelp, sending scrolls flying everywhere. His flintlock pistol, caught in the chaos, clattered to the floor.

Marcellus couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of Livius's comical awakening. The suddenness of it all left Livius looking both bewildered and dishevelled.

Edwin, trying to stifle his amusement, finally managed to compose himself. He grinned mischievously at the flustered Livius and remarked, "Ah, Livius, it seems you were in dire need of a little wake-up call."

Still recovering from the surprise, Livius shot Edwin a glare that could curdle milk. "You'll pay for this, Edwin," he growled as he picked up his things.

Marcellus, thoroughly entertained by the whole spectacle, couldn't help but chime in, "Perhaps, Livius, I doubt anything can beat this"

With a mischievous grin, Edwin responded to Livius's threat, "Oh, come now, Livius. It was all in good fun. A bit of humour in this forsaken island can do wonders for the spirit."

Livius, still a bit dishevelled and irritated, gathered the scattered scrolls and carefully examined them to ensure they hadn't been damaged or ink smudged. His annoyance was palpable.

Livius shot a pointed look at both Marcellus and Edwin, "Very well, we'll see bastard, and you too pirate"