Paragon of Destruction

The words did as little to satisfy Arran’s curiosity as they did to reassure him, but she refused to say anything more about the matter. But then, from the sound of it, all she had was a gut feeling.

Back at the mansion, Arran immediately sought out Jovan, who was both surprised and delighted when he heard that he was to recruit another fifty servants and guards. It was a task Arran would have found daunting, but his steward only seemed pleased at the prospect of having another fifty people under his command.

"All men again?" Jovan asked before he set to work, looking at Arran with narrowed eyes.

Arran shook his head. "Just try to find borderlanders and imperials, if you can. Talented ones, if possible."

Jovan gave him a firm nod in response. "That won’t be a problem."

Arran’s steward had only barely left when an unexpected guest arrived — the Matriarch’s steward, this time.

"Lord Ghostblade," the man said with a respectful bow. "I am to show you the new additions to your estate." He flashed an unctuous smile, then added, "I expect you will find them most pleasing."

The expectation soon proved false, however. Because when Arran laid eyes on the lands that would be added to his own, pleasing definitely wasn’t the word that came to mind.

Overwhelming, perhaps. Excessive, certainly. And, more than anything, outrageously impractical.

The estate was several times as large as Arran’s own, and its lands consisted entirely of meticulously maintained gardens, filled with carefully arranged flower beds in various bright colors, grandiose gold-plated fountains, and endless paths paved with stones laid down in intricate patterns.

To Arran’s eyes, the result was as ugly as it was opulent — bad taste run wild, allowed to grow unrestrained for untold decades.

"All of this will have to go," Arran said after a brief inspection.

"Lord Ghostblade?" The steward looked at him with shocked eyes, as if he had just heard something highly inappropriate.

"The gardens," Arran clarified. "They’ll have to go. I won’t have my servants waste their time maintaining all of this, and when the other students arrive, I will need larger training grounds."

"As you say, Lord Ghostblade," the steward replied, though his expression suggested that he thought the decision bordered on heresy. It seemed the man actually liked the tacky display.

Next, they inspected the mansion, and Arran was unsurprised to find it every bit as gaudy as the gardens had been.

Several times the size of his own mansion, it was filled with needless ornaments and decorations, seemingly thrown together without any regard for maintaining a consistent style.

The steward gave Arran a suspicious look. "If you wish, we can adjust the mansion to your needs before you move here."

"Move here?" Arran cast a glance at the large building, then firmly shook his head. "I’m staying in my old mansion. This place..." He looked at it again, then shrugged. "I suppose my new teachers will need accommodations."

The steward smiled in relief, apparently glad that the building would be left untouched. "They will certainly appreciate such well-decorated quarters," he said. "But of course, several new buildings will need to be constructed for the students."

"I trust you can handle that task," Arran replied.

He had little faith in the steward’s taste, but the matter wasn’t worth his attention. He would not spend time in the students’ quarters, and if the result was as ugly as he suspected it would be, the students would just have to live with it.

After finishing the inspection, Arran cast a final irritated look at the hideous gardens, then quickly made his way back to his mansion. There, he instructed Jovan to hire an additional hundred servants.

He nearly groaned at the thought of how many Essence Crystals it would cost, but there was no other choice — his new estate was large enough that even two hundred servants would only barely be enough.

Then, finally, with the Matriarch’s steward readying the new parts of the estate and his own steward recruiting new servants and preparing the banquet, Arran focused his attention on what truly mattered — training.

Witnessing Brightblade’s duel had taught him many lessons, several of which were as unwelcome as they were necessary.

He now understood that his resistance to magic would do precious little in stopping a powerful magical attack, and he recognized that relying on it too much could only end badly. Perhaps it would eventually grow strong enough to let him shrug off even Archmages’ attacks, but that day was still far away.

The Matriarch’s ring provided some protection, yet it would only stop a single attack. That might give him a fighting chance against a strong mage, but a determined enemy would certainly not give up after a single try.

The truth was that unless he improved his magical skills, he would always be an easy target for truly strong mages. And now that he had become the Matriarch’s heir, he had little doubt that he would find new enemies sooner rather than later.

Driven by necessity, he resumed his training again immediately, determination making him study even harder than before. And although there were two more weeks to go until the banquet would be held and his new teachers would arrive, he would not let even that time go to waste.

Brightblade clearly approved of his newfound zeal, and she often observed him as he trained, offering advice when needed.

"It seems like you’re finally beginning to understand the value of magic," she said after the first week, as Arran took a short break in between the morning’s training sessions.

"I understand the value of not dying," Arran replied. "But those techniques you used in the duel... you will teach them to me when I become an adept, right?"

"I will teach them to you when you’re ready to learn them," she answered. "And I expect you will be an adept by then."

Arran frowned as he understood her meaning. If she deemed him ready before he became an adept, she would not wait for him to gain the title.

That knowledge motivated him to work even harder, and he spent every minute he could spare either in his mansion’s dungeons or in the training fields, endlessly practicing the shields and wards he had learned during the previous three months.

Two weeks passed quickly like this, and Arran was almost surprised when the day of the banquet came. He had left the preparations up to Jovan, and other than the occasional question about the food arrangements, the man’s efforts in preparing the banquet had escaped his notice entirely.

Yet on the morning of the banquet, he found that no small amount of work had been done. Already, the rich smell of food pervaded the mansion and its surroundings, and the gardens nearest the mansion were abuzz with activity as servants rushed to finish their final few tasks.

The sheer scale of it surprised Arran, however. He had expected to receive a few dozen guests at most, but the preparations suggested that far more guests were expected to come.

It took him some minutes to find Jovan, and when he did, he found the man red-faced and sweating, clearly exhausted even if an eager smile still remained on his face.

"Jovan," Arran said uncertainly. "This banquet... just how many people did you invite?"

His steward briefly frowned. "Let’s see... All the Valley’s Elders and Archmages, of course, along with any worthy Grandmasters. Naturally, I also invited any of your teachers who do not fall into those groups. And obviously, I invited the students who will be joining you, along with any others whose position warrants it."

Arran paled slightly at the reply. "How many people in total?"

Jovan’s expression turned thoughtful, and after a few moments, he replied, "Two thousand, give or take a few hundred. Though I’ve prepared for an additional thousand, just to be safe."