Lakalude pointed his index on the firewood, and water flowed out, suppressing the night's campfire. He wasn't the only one sitting on a trunk. Three people were around him.

Each one of the four sat in front of the other, the dying fire separating them. Each of them had a bag on its side, which differed in size and uses.

One of the men had green hair and eyes and was calmer than the rest. A sealer, Panly, was here with him to seal the things they didn't want others to know about. Lakalude led this crew by Benyahute's order, a mission he had never experienced.

The mission looked simple, but that didn't change the fact that he didn't have much information about the situation.

Lakalude wasn't the most cautious person, but he didn't want to see his king disappointed in him.

He invited a sealer even though he didn't like the sealers, they were neutral, after all, and they considered themselves not humans. If a war were to happen, the sealers would sell their services to both parties or close their doors.

Panly wore dark green attire trimmed with green and golden jewels that made the sound of extravagance as they walked. After all, a sealer was never a fighter. Panly was the quietest man and the only sealer of the four.

The group had a sealer, a scriber, a nobleman of the Vivian family, and him, his highness's youngest talent.

Rune, the scriber, sat beside Panly. He sucked his cigarette slowly, never annoying anyone with its smoke. He had pink, shaggy hair, dark eyelids, and a lively yet sleep-deprived look.

The guy sucked a deep breath of his cigarette, the frickles on his face relaxing along with his cheeks as he let out the smoke. On the outside, Rune looked poor with a white shirt and pink shorts, but all knew that the scriber sect was the richest. Its people scribed the runes on the Managets, the stones that conduct mana. Their scribes made evolution easier and the middle continent as a whole. But if that was the only thing Rune could do, Lakalude wouldn't have taken him along.

"What's it?" Rune asked, sucking his cigarette, its faint flame rustling slowly.

"Nothing," Lakalude said, shifting his stare toward the dying fire. "you can go to sleep. Tomorrow we reach the village."

Lakalude glanced at his collegue, Maineluke Vivian, a noble of the Vivian family who was kind enough to present them with Mainluke and the malignant Managet, Darune.

Darune was one of those Managets that emitted great mana yet couldn't be forged into anything. Forgers were rare in this world, and through exploration, it looked like half of the weapons of the world were forged by one person, a hidden person whose existence was becoming a myth slowly. A lord whose power has never been witnessed, Zalerto.

Maybe if Zalerto was around, he could have forged Darune… but unfortunately, he wasn't.

"Year and a half, just because no rail road, hah?" Rune chuckled. "His Highness must have really hated the poor."

There was no mistake in that. For lakalude, his highness was the only powerful human he had ever seen. An amazing existence that could use three elements and a sword.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Benyahute had his own principles of who should live and who shouldn't, and Lakalude followed the principles of his highness.

He didn't care about how the commoners lived, but he cared if they got a talent within them one day.

If he was to look at it from another angle, Benyahute didn't hate the commoners. He hated the talentless.

"Maybe," Lakalude only said. "Tomorrow, we will reach the village. We will tell the elders about the scholarship and begin preparing for the test."

Mainluke nodded, Rune gave his approval, and the sealer Panly stood and walked away into the forest.

"This guy doesn't talk," Mainluke said.

"Well, they don't like Benyahute after all. He does whatever he wants without consulting them," said Rune as he smoked. Then stood. "Well, I'm taking a leak."

And walked to the woods as well.

"How old do you think that person is?" asked Lakalude.

"You mean Rune? I don't know, but those guys live long lives, I believe," Mainluke replied.

"I meant the person who killed the monster,' Lakalude clarified. "His highness asked me to pick them if they were under thirty. If not, then leave them. I think the best way to look for that person is by interviewing them instead of using the stone or that thing." Lakalude said, pointing his thumb behind him.

And a faint roar echoed around the place. Still, the cage Lakalude chose for that monster was sturdy enough to prevent it from escaping.

Lakalude looked behind, staring at their wagon with two blue eyes. The horse was one of the biggest he had seen in his life; two or even three people could ride it, but none used it. The horse was there to carry the wagon, and the monster roared behind the cage.

"Well, It's my first time traveling outside of the capital. I'm leaving everything to you. Vivian asked for the person and not for anything else."

True, Vivian, in a way to have Benyahute's praise and look, volunteered to adopt the commoner. And they were the first to volunteer and the ones who gave the most promises. They had promised the king to raise the person with the best scrolls and medication and to provide them with access to their springs.

Vivian had many hopes for the person. If the person was under thirty and was a B-Tier mage already, that must have meant that this person was as talented as Lakalude, who was already one of the best.

"We want someone who at least could compete with Krunin Shelvy," said Mainluke. "She is only thirteen and already a C-Tier mage. Such talents appear once every few centuries. And in the past few centuries, Vivian hasn't been blessed with such a talent. And the hierarchy is getting us behind the other noble families," Mainluke sighed with grief. "No one wishes to be in our place."

“Heh,” Lakalude smiled. "The scribers are having their one-in-a-kind crisis. I don't believe your family is in more trouble."

"I guess true, their queen is dead, and the princess is too ill to reach the mating season. Some people are saying that their princess is already dead, but they are covering up."

Since the beginning of the scriber's sect, their royal family only gave birth to girls. In fact, one girl at a time. And their king was chosen through the mating season when the princess reached adulthood. Now, the scribers were in deep trouble. Their princess was ill, her mother was dead, and nobody knew how the next king could be chosen.

"let's wait for tomorrow. I will prepare everything," said Lakalude as he stood.

"Well, I can't expect less from his highness' spoiled warrior."

Lakalude smiled. And walked to their tent.