Chapter 8: The Magus
As the snowstorm appeared to have finally subsided, the radiant disk of the full moon graced the high tower with its cold, silvery light.
Within the highest tower of Duke Tillian Valentine’s castle, a man sat serenely in an old wooden rocking chair. Clutched in his hands was a large leather-covered book. He continued to rock back and forth, the soothing crackling of the fireplace harmonizing with the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair.
This mysterious figure, cradling the book in his hands, was none other than Ahspid, the elusive magus rumored to reside in The North. Despite exhaustive efforts, no one had ever succeeded in locating him, adding to the air of intrigue surrounding his elusive existence.
At this very moment, the evasive magus, Ahspid, found himself confined within the cold walls of Duke Valentine’s castle.
With a resounding flap, Ahspid closed the book, deciding its fate by tossing it unceremoniously into the fireplace. His eyes fixated on the greedy orange flames hastily devouring the leather-bound pages, filling the room with a peculiar and poignant aroma.
"Boring!"
Pushing himself up from the rocking chair, the man embarked on a slow saunter around his room. His hands remained interlocked behind his back, reminiscent of a prisoner leisurely pacing within the confines of his cell.
Perhaps he really was a prisoner here.
"Two weeks! It’s been two whole weeks since that imbecile brought me to this place! And what have I been doing? Sitting here, waiting for heavens know what!"
Ahspid’s voice, a combination of loudness and harshness, reverberated through the tower like thunder. Frustrated, he vented his anger by delivering a swift kick to a brown wooden chest containing ancient books he had brought with him to the castle. Instantly, regret washed over him as an enormous wave of pain surged through his right leg.
"Ugh!"