Inside Master Frode's office, the room was not too large, yet spacious enough for a gathering of ten people. The walls were lined with shelves full of books and magical artifacts, some hanging, others neatly arranged on wooden surfaces. A large arched window stood directly in front of Master Frode's desk, allowing the bright morning sunlight to flood the room.
To the side, on the wall between the shelves, was the main door.
A knock echoed from it, followed by a servant's voice. "Master Frode, Sir Francis is here."
"Come in," Master Frode responded in a calm, measured tone.
The door creaked open, and Sir Francis entered the office. He moved toward the desk, and Master Frode gestured for him to sit. Now seated, Sir Francis took in Master Frode's appearance in the daylight. Unlike the night before, when shadows veiled the older mage's face, the morning light now revealed him fully.
Master Frode appeared to be in his 60s, with fair skin, a short brown beard, and a mustache that covered his chin and mouth. He was balding in the center, but long strands of hair framed the sides of his head. A pair of clear glasses rested on his nose, enhancing the sharp look in his eyes, though his expression was far from calm.
He wore a long, dark purple robe that covered his hands, and Sir Francis noticed a smoking pipe and ashtray on the desk beside him. Master Frode sat still, one hand stroking his beard, his face locked in deep thought. His eyes seemed far away, as if his mind were tangled in an invisible web of complex reasoning.
"Master Frode," Sir Francis called, trying to draw him from his reverie.
Master Frode blinked, snapping back to attention.
"Ah, yes… right, right," he said. He clasped his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward. His tone grew serious, yet calm, as he spoke. "There is a fragment of a soul sealed inside the mother crystal."
Sir Francis's eyes widened, the weight of the words sinking in. "A soul?" he muttered in disbelief.
"Yes, a soul," Master Frode repeated, his eyes narrowing as he studied Sir Francis's shocked expression.
Sir Francis, still grappling with disbelief, asked, "But, wait… you said it was sealed inside the crystal? Is that even possible?"
Master Frode leaned back in his chair, arms tightly crossed over his chest. "The knowledge of how to activate the mother crystal has long been forgotten—forbidden, actually, due to its dangerous nature," he explained, pausing for a moment as Sir Francis listened intently. "However, there are still ancient records that suggest it could be used to seal off one's life essence."
Sir Francis leaned forward, one hand clenched on the table, the other rubbing his chin in thought. "So, do you know whose soul is sealed inside the crystal?"
Master Frode took a deep, deliberate breath before responding, "No, I have no idea."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Sir Francis's face as he tilted his head slightly.
Then, Master Frode's voice grew more grave, his tone even more serious. "However, what I can gather from the soul's aura is that it is not just any soul. I sensed… evil. A dark, malevolent entity."
Sir Francis swallowed hard, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. The revelation settled over him like a heavy weight, an ominous sense of danger lurking in the air.
The atmosphere in Master Frode's room grew heavy with tension. Both men fell silent for a moment, their minds racing.
Master Frode broke the quiet and said, "the mother crystal... do you have any further information about it? A date when it was made?"
Sir Francis lifted his head, recalling the discovery.
"When Sir Gedeon found the mother crystal, it was in a hidden compartment that dated back to the first lineage of the Rothrosia royal family," he said, his gaze steady on Master Frode.
Master Frode's eyes widened slightly. "That would be over 300 years ago." He leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps… yes, perhaps there are still writings about the first lineage in the Rothrosia archives."
"The Rothrosia archives... isn't that located at the magic academy?" Sir Francis asked, crossing his arms, his expression thoughtful.
"Indeed," Master Frode nodded. "You should head there to gather more information."
Sir Francis shifted in his chair, folding his arms tightly against his chest. "Sir William is already at the magic academy, tasked with escorting the savior," he said, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. He continued, "Very well then, I'll go to the academy, but I need to inform Sir William first."
Master Frode nodded. "You can use the facility's messenger pigeon to send word to Sir William about your arrival and intentions."
Sir Francis agreed to the plan, but before he could excuse himself, Master Frode spoke again. "I have a request," he said. "Could you bring along one of my brightest researchers, a young mage named Amabel? She may prove useful in your search for information about the mother crystal."
Sir Francis considered the request for a moment and then nodded. "Agreed."
Sometimes later at the Magic Research Facility yard...
Several servants bustled around the horse stable, packing items into a horse-drawn carriage. Sir Francis was preparing his horse, joined by six guardsmen, while Sylvia checked the essentials for the journey. Unlike Sir Francis and the guards, Sylvia would be riding in the carriage.
As another carriage approached from behind, Sylvia furrowed her brow and turned to Sir Francis. "Who's the other carriage for?"
Already seated on his horse, Sir Francis replied, "That's for the researcher Master Frode requested."
Sylvia tilted her head, curiosity piqued, when suddenly Amabel appeared, her usual shy demeanor intact, with her hood pulled up. Sir Francis noticed her and nodded. "Ah, there she is."
Amabel straightened, clutching a leather bag with both hands, and offered a quiet, "I-I'll be at your service, Sir Francis."
Sylvia's eyes widened. "Eh... Amabel? So you're the researcher?" Her tone was filled with surprise and excitement.
Amabel nodded shyly. Sylvia couldn't help but feel overjoyed that her childhood friend would be joining them on the trip to the Magic Academy. At least she would have good company. Glancing toward Amabel's carriage, Sylvia noticed it was filled with books, clothes, and various magical instruments. "Do you really need to bring all of that for the journey?" she asked, half-amused.
Amabel nodded again. "I'll actually be staying at the academy for a while. I'm finishing my thesis."
Sylvia was taken aback. "Thesis? Wait, what thesis?"
With a shy smile, Amabel explained, "I forgot to mention… I'm furthering my studies while working at the facility." In other word Amabel would soon be classified as a high-tier mage, just a step below the Royal Mages, once her studies were complete.
Sylvia's jaw dropped. "What? I haven't even passed the Royal Mage Exam yet, and now you're going to be a tier higher than me?" She lowered her head, grumbling in a low, defeated voice, "This isn't fair..."
Amabel panicked, trying to cheer her up. "No, no! Without the test, you're still way ahead of me, Sylvia. I couldn't achieve half of what you've done!"
Despite Amabel's words, Sylvia pouted like a child upset that their friend had bested them. Watching the scene, Sir Francis smiled, amused by their exchange. "Cheer up, Sylvia," he said. "Without you, we wouldn't have survived the witches."
Sylvia clenched her fist with determination. "I'll pass the Royal Mage Exam too. Just you wait."
With everything packed and ready, Sir Francis led the group toward the Magic Academy. Sylvia and Amabel shared the same carriage, while the guards covered the rear and flanked both sides, protecting the group as they began their journey.
Above the Magic Research Facility, in Master Frode's office, he stood by the large arch window, watching the carriage move below. Smoking his pipe, he observed the departing group in silence for a moment. Then, expelling a cloud of smoke, he muttered to himself, "Well, I should continue studying the crystal."