Bairon had barely stepped out of the house when he spotted a familiar face approaching.
"Hey, Bairon! Don't walk away; I see you!" the figure shouted.
Bairon responded, "I wasn't planning to, Mrs. Murray."
The approaching figure turned out to be the stout, petite landlady of the residence.
"Bairon, I came to tell you: you must vacate my house immediately!" Mrs. Murray raised a finger in warning.
"If I recall correctly," Bairon said, "we signed a ten-year lease, and it's nowhere near its end."
"Indeed, there's such a clause," the landlady acknowledged. "However, the contract also states 'final interpretation rights belong to the landlord.' That means, what Sophie Murray says, goes." She pointed to herself with the same raised finger.
"Why would you ask us to leave? We've been good tenants," Evelyn protested.
Mrs. Murray was about to blurt out something about "pests with Greyscale," but a cold glance from Bairon made her bite back her words.
She quickly adjusted, saying, "Haven't you heard? The news is all over town. Lawrence has awakened the Red Bloodline. Soon, he will become a mighty Master Magus. Even our city council head, Mr. Jona, has to bow to him. If you've offended him, that's your business. Don't drag my property into it!"
"I'll leave," Bairon stated calmly, crossing his arms over his chest, "but only after the day of the duel. If you don't agree, then let's pretend we never had this conversation." He waited for Mrs. Murray's response.
Mrs. Murray hesitated.
Offending a future Master Magus was unthinkable, but angering a current magus was equally perilous for a commoner like her.
In truth, it was Bairon's punctuality in paying rent and his occasional gifts of special products from the Shadeveil Mountains that had endeared him to Mrs. Murray, leading her to make an exception for a young girl with Greyscale to stay in her rental property. But it also spoke volumes about Bairon's prowess. Being able to move in and out of the treacherous Shadeveil Mountains safely for seven consecutive years was a feat Mrs. Murray, a native of Sailport, had never seen anyone else achieve.
"Fine," Mrs. Murray declared loudly, "I'll reclaim the house the day the duel concludes. But no rent refunds!"
Bairon took Evelyn's hand and turned to leave.
From the moment he accepted the duel challenge, he had already planned to move away from Sailport.
As for the rent, he would make it clear to Mrs. Murray what was rightfully hers and what she shouldn't dare touch.
...
As night began to fall, the streets of Sailport were lit up.
City residents emerged from their homes with families, enjoying the cooling evening breeze.
The city was named Sailport due to its eight sailboat manufacturing plants.
And the reason for these factories?
A river originating from the Shadeveil Mountains ran through the city and flowed into the sea.
Thus, lumberjacks simply had to cut the teakwood required for shipbuilding in the mountains and toss them into the river.
The river would then carry the logs downstream to the shipyards by the coast.
This unique geographical advantage gave Sailport its modest prosperity, ensuring a decent living for the majority of its residents.
"Brother, do you think this looks good?" Evelyn crouched in front of a small stall, picking up an odd mask and fitting it onto her face, showing it off to Bairon.
"If you like it, buy it," Bairon, holding several heavy storybooks under his arm, said with a smile.
Though called storybooks, they were actually historical and mythological texts.
Both Evelyn and Bairon cherished these types of books.
Evelyn, still wearing the mask, asked the vendor, "How much?"
The vendor eyed Bairon, noticing the gray magus robe he wore, and held up two fingers, "Two silver coins."
"That's too expensive!" Evelyn exclaimed.
"Miss, this mask is crafted after the visage of the ancient Elf Queen. Made from the finest wood and carved painstakingly in their free time by the best shipwrights in Sailport," the vendor boasted.
"Have you seen the ancient Elf Queen?" Evelyn inquired, her surprise hinting at her hope of encountering another mythology enthusiast.
"Uh, I've seen her in a mural at the church," the vendor replied, slightly embarrassed.
Evelyn corrected him, "The murals in the Light Church only depict the Seven Deities. Among them are the goddesses of Fertility and Night. There's no image of the Elf Queen."
The vendor's embarrassment deepened, and he turned to Bairon for assistance.
"One coin. Will you sell?" Bairon offered.
"Yes!" The vendor agreed immediately, hoping that Evelyn would move on and not deter potential customers.
Bairon flicked a coin from his pocket, and with a snap of his thumb, sent it into the vendor's lap.
The vendor bit it to verify its authenticity and said cheerfully, "The Elf Queen is yours now, my lady."
As Bairon and Evelyn walked away, Evelyn, playing with her wooden mask, pouted, "Brother, I still think we overpaid."
Bairon chuckled, "Once we get home and you put on that mask, I'll tell you the story of the Elf Queen. You'll feel it was money well spent."
Evelyn's eyes sparkled.
Just then, a voice echoed from behind them.
"To think I'd find a magus in mere Sailport, one who could channel his Magic Circuit so smoothly. This trip was well worth it for this maiden!"
Bairon's brows furrowed as he turned to find a young girl mounted atop a magnificent beast.
She appeared to be about two years younger than Bairon, her hair a flaxen braid cascading down her back, her eyes a piercing shade of green, and her demeanor exuding an air of defiance.
At a glance, her mount resembled a horse, but upon closer inspection, it was evidently different.
Its hide was robust, its limbs considerably larger than those of a typical warhorse, and its hooves bore a stark resemblance to bear claws.
Bairon instantly recognized it—a hybrid horse, crossbred with the blood of a Spellbeast known as the Berserk Bear.
Yet, even more captivating than the impressive mount, was a tiny emblem of a white tower pinned to the girl's left chest.
Son of the White Tower!
By the regulations of the magus guild, only those young magi deemed to possess the golden Bloodline—capable of ringing the Bloodline Clock six times—were entitled to wear the "Son of the White Tower" emblem.
Those who bore this badge were invariably considered the crowning jewels of the Provincial Alliance.
"You're so pretty!" Evelyn waved, offering a friendly greeting.
The girl dismounted and approached Bairon, stating matter-of-factly, "My name is Ajani Phillip. I hereby challenge you. Remember, it's a challenge, not a duel, so you need not fear death."
"Why?" Bairon queried.
"What do you mean 'why'? Haven't you noticed my White Tower emblem?" Ajani responded with a look of astonishment, "To spar with a Son of the White Tower is an immense honor for you, a magus who's triggered the Bloodline Clock five times. Moreover, it will grant you invaluable combat experience."
Bairon shook his head, "You've got it wrong. I'm not the one who triggered the Bloodline Clock."
"It's not you?" Ajani's eyes sparkled with intrigue, "So, little Sailport is home to two exceptionally gifted young magi? This trip has indeed been worthwhile!"
"No matter," Ajani continued, "I'll challenge you first, and then seek the other."
"I have no interest in your challenge," Bairon declined, shaking his head.
Having sparred with Lady Isabella in the world of the Dark Tower, he had lost any enthusiasm for exchanging blows with young magi.
It's a waste of time; I'd rather go home and share stories with Evelyn, Bairon silently added.
"How could you not be interested?" Ajani bristled, unaccustomed to such direct rejection as a Son of the White Tower.
Evelyn jumped in to clarify, "I'm sorry, but my brother is due for a duel with the one who rang the clock five times, in just five days. He cannot be distracted now."
Ajani expressed her shock, "Has the Chief Steward here gone mad? Though you may not possess the lofty talents of the Son of the White Tower, in a place as small as Sailport, you're both rarities that emerge perhaps once a century. How could he let the two of you duel?"
"That person is the Chief Steward's illegitimate son," Evelyn retorted with a hint of disdain.
"Ah, I think I understand now," Ajani remarked, swiftly piecing things together.
Petty and narrow-minded Chief Stewards sacrificing gifted young magi for their personal desires were not uncommon.
It was partly the reason why Bloodline Clocks were installed in every magus tower.
"Hey, take this," Ajani suddenly tossed something toward Bairon.
"Thank you, but no," Bairon swiftly deflected the item back.
Due to his extensive combat experience, he had noticed, in the split second when Ajani reached into her pocket, that she had pulled out a mana core—specifically, a level 4 mana core.
Although Bairon was in dire need of a mana core, he still sent it back.
He didn't appreciate handouts.