Morgen, his laughter still echoing from the opulent gathering, returned to his chambers, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The evening, initially envisioned as a tedious exercise in political maneuvering, had taken an unexpected turn.

Connecting with Rom, the young heir burdened by a concealed infatuation, had seemed like a daunting task. Building trust through mere words felt like navigating a treacherous mountain path. Yet, the night had unfolded like a masterfully crafted play.

Morgen's carefully chosen insights, seasoned with a touch of subtle manipulation, had resonated with the lovestruck aristocrat. Wine loosened tongues, and soon, Rom, his youthful naivety cloaked in a veneer of sophistication, found himself drawn into Morgen's web of shared secrets and veiled truths.

The evening, surprisingly, was devoid of the usual aristocratic posturing and awkward silences. Morgen, navigating the social dance with practiced ease, had woven a tapestry of charm and calculated empathy, leaving Rom feeling understood and, perhaps, unknowingly indebted.

A sense of accomplishment settled over Morgen, a predator sated after a successful hunt. He summoned Laurent, the ever-present steward of the Jinmai Chamber of Commerce, his loyal shadow and silent executor of his desires.

"Laurent," Morgen's voice was smooth as silk, yet held an undercurrent of steel, "it seems our young friend Rom has proven more susceptible than anticipated. Phase two commences at dawn."

Frustration gnawed at Morgen. Green City, once a vibrant hub of commerce, now resembled a parched, withered husk. The orc raids had crippled the city, leaving its coffers bare and its people desperate. He desperately needed someone to execute his plan, but the options were bleak.

The Mage Tower, its ivory tower reputation holding true, boasted only untested apprentices, their idealism untainted by the grime of reality. Morgen, a shrewd businessman, knew they were ill-equipped for the harsh realities he faced.

His own position within the Jinmai Chamber of Commerce, a recent acquisition, offered little solace. He was still an outsider, navigating unfamiliar waters. Laurent, the Chamber's ever-present steward, remained his only viable option.

"Laurent," Morgen began, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility, "starting tomorrow, we acquire a significant shipment: cotton, cloth, and farm tools. Prepare for eight thousand souls."

Laurent's breath hitched. Eight thousand? Was Morgen planning some grand offensive against the orcs? The man's audacity both terrified and intrigued him.

"Mr. Morgen," Laurent ventured, his voice laced with concern, "the orc attacks have sent supply prices skyrocketing. Perhaps waiting until spring, when the orcs typically retreat..."

Morgen's hand sliced through the air, silencing Laurent mid-sentence. His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, held an intensity that brooked no argument.

"No, Laurent," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Execute the order. This is not a suggestion, it's a command."

Thunder crackled in Morgen's eyes, not with anger, but with a power that silenced dissent. "Spare no expense," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. Those three words were more than just an order; they were a declaration of absolute will, leaving no room for argument.

Laurent felt the weight of that authority settle on him like a physical force. He swallowed hard, the jovial facade Morgen had presented earlier replaced by something far more dangerous. This was no longer a mere businessman, but a powerful mage, capable of shaping lives and destinies with a flick of his wrist.

A cold sweat prickled at Laurent's skin. He had known Morgen's position within the Jinmai Chamber was high, but the casual interactions had lulled him into a false sense of familiarity. Now, the stark reality of their difference in power hit him like a physical blow.

Fear, sharp and unwelcome, clawed at his throat. How dare he question Lord Morgen's directives? He was a mere steward, a cog in the machine, and Morgen held the reins. The consequences of disobedience were not just financial ruin, but something far more final.

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His voice, tight with fear and forced respect, rasped out, "Yes, Lord Morgen. Your command is the guiding principle for the Jinmai Chamber of Commerce. Whatever you desire, even a warrior's weapon, I shall procure it. Consider it done."

Morgen's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, held Laurent captive. "Laurent," he began, his voice deceptively soft, "this task demands your absolute dedication. Do not disappoint me."

A flicker of fear danced in Laurent's eyes, quickly masked by forced composure. He knew the consequences of failure – not just dismissal, but something far worse. Morgen, with his veiled threats and cryptic pronouncements, was a force to be reckoned with.

The mage master's tone softened, almost apologetic. "Your daughter, Elara, is fifteen now, isn't she? A curious age, brimming with potential." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "If you perform exceptionally this time, perhaps... perhaps an exception could be made. A chance for Elara to study magic at the Tower next year."

Laurent's heart hammered against his ribs. The Mage Tower, a beacon of arcane knowledge, had always been Elara's dream. The Life priest's pronouncement of her lack of talent had shattered those dreams, leaving her heartbroken. Morgen's offer, though laced with unspoken conditions, was a lifeline.

"Lord Morgen," he stammered, his voice thick with emotion, "the priest said... he said Elara lacks the aptitude..."

Morgen's smile was thin, devoid of warmth. "Priests," he scoffed, "often confuse piety with progress. Trust me, Laurent. Your daughter has potential, a spark waiting to be ignited. But it requires the right guidance, the right opportunity."

Morgen smiled knowingly.

"Do not fret. The Mage Tower has recently developed a new magic potion capable of enabling individuals to break through and become official mages.

You have surely noticed Wei Na and Karu.

As long as you contribute sufficiently, your daughter will also have the opportunity to obtain a magic potion worth three hundred gold pukes."

A broad smile spread across Laurent's face.

"Lord Morgen, you possess an uncanny ability to discern truth, akin to the goddess herself. I swear to the goddess of life that I shall diligently fulfill every task you entrust upon me."

"Proceed, contact the suppliers first, then return to collect the gold pukes."

"Yes, sir."

"Should you encounter any difficulties, reach out to Rom from the Alex Chamber of Commerce. He will assist you."

Morgen casually imparted this piece of advice. Laurent's body stiffened as he regarded Morgen with newfound respect.

Rom's willingness to help, mentioned so nonchalantly, held significant weight in Laurent's mind. Being the son of a marquis, he did not anticipate that his relationship with Morgen would evolve to such an extent after a single meeting.

Morgen's handsome countenance grew increasingly enigmatic in Laurent's eyes, inspiring even greater reverence.

Witnessing Laurent depart with newfound zeal, Morgen smiled faintly.

A combination of rewards and punishments proved to be an effective strategy. Although Laurent had been working diligently during this period, Morgen sensed a conservative rather than an open-minded approach.

Now, driven by the aspiration of seeing his daughter become an official mage, this man would undoubtedly work tirelessly to assist him.

All he had to offer in return was a vial of magic blood, the realization of which lay in the distant future.

For Morgen, the price was negligible.

Capitalist Morgen found this arrangement quite satisfactory.

However, the shortage of manpower continued to pose a constraint.

Whether it was Dawn City or the Scarlet Mage Tower, he currently lacked capable subordinates.

Dawn City's situation could be managed for the time being. Once the human population grew, he could expand the vampire clan in the following spring.

However, the Scarlet Mage Tower differed from the Vampire Clan. Cultivating humans required considerable time and resources. Unlike the Vampire Clan, where one could simply transform and acquire the abilities of a higher-level race, human mages had to undergo a rigorous process of study and training.

It was time to infuse the Scarlet Mage Tower with fresh blood.

Morgen gazed out the window at the dark night sky, lost in contemplation.

The following day, news spread like wildfire in the vicinity of the Scarlet Mage Tower, igniting excitement.

The Scarlet Mage Tower planned to recruit a group of mage apprentices and merchant apprentices.

Naturally, the former news was the primary source of exhilaration, with the merchant apprentice position largely ignored.

Goddess above, the Scarlet Mage Tower was one of the less than ten mage towers in all of Green City. Excluding the three great mages, only five senior mages possessed their own mage towers.

The Scarlet Mage Tower in their region was one of them.

To become a master mage was an alluring prospect.

The mere thought of potentially becoming a high-ranking mage master in the future had countless individuals stirred with anticipation.

Families with children between the ages of ten and twenty, in particular, were thrown into a frenzy.

The typically deserted square outside the gate of the Scarlet Mage Tower was now teeming with people. Several mage apprentices tasked with announcing the news found themselves surrounded by eager crowds.

"Master, my daughter is only thirty-two years old and possesses magical talent. Can she become your apprentice?"

"Recruiting only those between the ages of ten and twenty? Although my son is just three years old, his magical talent will undoubtedly impress the goddess of magic. Master mage, please allow my son to try. Please..."

"Sir, here are five gold coins. As long as you let my daughter into the mage tower, they're yours..."