Chapter 848: Blue-Eyed, White Hair Cassius
Even though Ragnora had said in her letter that the situation wasn’t too urgent, Cassius didn’t want to take any chances.
The situation could become dire at any single moment—a surge of mana fiends, a collapse in the mines, an attack from opportunistic bandits taking advantage of the chaos.
And besides, he was genuinely excited to go on another adventure. It had been a while since he had left the Holyfield estate for something other than a festival or a diplomatic visit.
So on that very same day, he departed from the household.
The farewell was, as always, an elaborate affair.
Every single one of his wives and maids gathered at the front gates, pressing safety charms into his hands, tucking small pouches of dried herbs into his pockets, and giving him baskets upon baskets of food for the journey.
There were freshly baked bread rolls, jars of preserves, smoked meats, dried fruits, and flasks of water and wine.
By the time they were done, Cassius had enough provisions to last a small army for a month.
"I’m going on a two-day journey, not a military campaign." He had protested, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"Take it." Diana had said firmly, pushing another basket into his arms. "You never know when you’ll need a good meal."
Portia had simply smiled and loaded everything into his spatial ring while he wasn’t looking.
Everyone insisted that he should take a carriage, but Cassius denied it.
This was supposed to be an undercover operation, after all, and no one was supposed to know he was a noble.
A carriage would be far too conspicuous and announce his presence from miles away.
So instead, he rode one of the evolved horses from the Holyfield stables, a magnificent beast with a sleek, dark coat and muscles that rippled with every movement.
It was faster than a normal horse, had far more stamina, and could traverse rough terrain with ease.
Cassius had given it a name, though he refused to tell anyone what it was, claiming it was "bad luck to name a horse before a journey."
The horse proved its worth immediately.
The beast ate up the miles with tireless strides, its hooves pounding against the dirt roads as Cassius pushed forward without rest. He only stopped briefly to let the horse drink and to stretch his own legs, but otherwise, he pressed on relentlessly.
The journey that was supposed to take two days was completed in a single day.
And by the time the sun began to rise above the horizon, he had already reached the edges of the Holyfield Mine territory.
—
The Holyfield estate was divided into two distinct halves.
The lower half was where the mansions stood, where the businesses operated, where the markets bustled with activity.
The climate was pleasant year-round, perfect for picnics and afternoon strolls.
Lush greenery covered every hill, beautiful large trees provided shade along every road, and rich fields of crops stretched across the farmers’ lands.
It was a place full of vitality and life.
But the Holyfield mines were completely different and Cassius definitely noticed the change.
As he traveled further north, the temperature began to drop. It wasn’t enough to snow, but it was definitely cool enough that a jacket was necessary to stay comfortable.
The environment shifted from lush and vibrant to something more rugged.
The rolling hills became rocky outcrops. The dense forests gave way to scattered pine trees that grew sparsely enough to let sunlight filter through in dappled patterns.
Winding dirt paths replaced well-maintained roads. Weathered stone formations jutted out of the earth like the bones of some ancient giant.
The air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, giving the region a quiet, hardy beauty.
Cassius watched the transformation unfold before his eyes with keen interest.
Less green. More brown. The clouds above grew darker and grayer, as if they had crossed into an entirely different land.
The terrain became more mountainous—not the towering peaks of the great ranges, but enough to make the journey more tedious, forcing him to go around or over the hills.
But eventually, after a long and winding ride, he had completed ninety percent of their journey.
They were finally at the Holyfield mines.
Or rather, they were on the outskirts.
And along the way, he could see the evidence of centuries of mining operations.
Abandoned open-pit mines dotted the landscape like scars on the earth. Their vast walls were scarred by decades of excavation, layer upon layer of rock stripped away in search of precious ether ore.
Rusted tracks lay abandoned, leading nowhere. Collapsed scaffolding stood in silent testimony to the dangers of the trade. Silent machinery sat idle, slowly being reclaimed by nature.
Years ago, the ore veins in these places had been rich and plentiful. But they had been completely exhausted, dried up, and the miners had moved on to the next site.
It was only after seeing such colossal mining pits that Cassius truly comprehended the scale of the operation.
Before, he had understood his family produced most of the ether on the continent, the necessary component for powering magical utilities across the world.
But seeing it with his own eyes, witnessing the immense scars left on the landscape by generations of mining, made it feel real in a way that numbers on a report never could.
’To provide for the entire continent.’ He thought. ’The scale has to be massive.’
And now, he was almost there.
In about ten minutes, he would finally reach the outer walls of the mining complex, the fortifications that guarded against any massive invasions.
But first, he needed a break.
—
Cassius was currently sitting under a large pine tree on a small stool he had brought out from his spatial ring.
In front of him stood a painting board, propped up on an easel. Beside it, a small table held an array of colorful paints and different-sized paintbrushes.
A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate nearby—he had already taken several bites.
He was painting. It seemed a perfectly reasonable way to pass the time during a lunch break.
But currently, Cassius’s appearance was something that no one from the Holyfield estate would have recognized at all.
His normally raven-black hair, which usually fell to his neck in a tousled mess, was now completely snow-white.
It gave him an entirely different look—poetic, almost ethereal, like a character from a romantic novel.
His crimson eyes, which were known across the continent for their striking, fiery hue, were now a light blue.
Not just any blue—the coldest part of ice itself seemed to have been pushed into his eyes, giving them a sense of fragility rather than fiery passion.
This was all part of his new identity.
Although he wasn’t changing his name—people named Cassius were common enough across the continent—he knew he had to change his appearance.
His normal look was too striking, too recognizable.
Especially those crimson eyes. They were like a beacon, announcing his presence to anyone who knew of him.
So he had inverted everything. White instead of black. Blue instead of red.
He looked completely like a different person.
And it was all thanks to Nala’s help.
Surprisingly, the lamia possessed remarkable skills in the art of disguise.
A necessity born from her younger years when she’d traveled through dangerous territories, forced to conceal her identity just to survive the journey.
She had provided him with contact lenses that shifted his eye color and a special dye for his hair that could be applied and removed at will.
Nala had especially used these same skills for cosplay back at the mansion.
Sometimes, the nights needed to be even more exciting, so the women would put on various different outfits to make things interesting.
She was in charge of those preparations, and her skills had proven invaluable.
The disguise also worked perfectly.
When Cassius had first revealed his new look to the ladies of the household, they had been shocked.
He looked like a stranger—handsome, yes, but completely unfamiliar. Of course, the moment he spoke, they knew it was him.
But still, the visual transformation was remarkable.
Before, there had been a certain brutishness to him, a raw edge that came with his fiery crimson eyes.
But now, he appeared more noble, more distinguished. Someone you would expect to see in a high-ranking family.
It wasn’t exactly according to plan, he was supposed to look less like nobility, not more.
But he genuinely liked this new appearance. So he had decided to keep it.
His outfit completed the image: a white shirt with leather straps crossing the chest, brown leather pants, sturdy boots.
He looked precisely like a young nobleman on his first grand adventure, perhaps a third son seeking glory beyond his family’s shadow.
—
But he wasn’t alone.
Sitting on her own stool opposite him, intensely focused on her own painting, was Isabelle.
She was currently painting her own picture, occasionally glancing up at Cassius with a look of deep concentration before returning her gaze to her canvas.
She was clearly trying to capture his likeness.
And she too looked completely different from her usual self.
She was not wearing her iconic maid uniform.
That alone was startling. Isabelle had worn that uniform so consistently that it had become inseparable from her identity.
Even on previous outings, she had maintained her professional attire with almost religious devotion.
But today, she had abandoned it entirely.
Instead, she wore a simple white and black dress—a single piece that flowed from her shoulders to her knees in clean, elegant lines.
The fabric was soft and light, catching the filtered sunlight in a way that made her seem almost luminous.
Her hair, usually pinned up in a practical arrangement, cascaded freely down her back in waves of golden silk.
She looked like the girl next door. Warm. Approachable.
The kind of woman who would offer you lemonade on a hot day and remember your name after a single introduction.
But the most striking detail that Cassius had been struggling not to stare at for the past hour was her neckline.
Isabelle was showing a remarkable amount of cleavage.
She was showing off her milky breasts in a way that was beautiful rather than sultry. It was the kind of display that made you want to admire her like a sculpture, without any devious thoughts.
She looked like she hadn’t come here to serve Cassius at all. Instead it was like she had come here for a honeymoon with him.
And that was exactly the point.
Cassius had needed a partner to make his disguise more believable.
A lone traveler might raise suspicions, but a couple traveling together? That was perfectly ordinary.
So he had decided that he needed someone to play the role of his wife on this journey.
When he had announced this to the household, every single woman had volunteered.
There had been a fight about to break out.