Chapter Thirty-Two: An Excursion into the Wilderness

Cardek’s speed was indeed impressive.

In only two days, he had assembled a force of fifty gray dwarves. The necromancer might have had his own plans, but that didn’t mean Cardek was without ideas of his own. The sharp-witted gray dwarf governor recognized this as an advantageous opportunity; privately, both he and Verna knew the operation had actually been initiated by Jen. Yet, with a bit of manipulation, the unsuspecting residents of Brandon Stonehold would believe this attack on the goblins was led by their governor himself. The necromancer, then, was merely participating at Cardek’s request... If such a deception could be maintained, it would greatly benefit Cardek’s rule over the stonehold. After all, whispers had circulated more than once questioning whether their governor could truly control the necromancer living outside the city. For Cardek, this was the perfect chance to demonstrate his influence over the mage.

Yet now, gazing at Jen and his companions standing not far away, Cardek was no longer quite so confident.

“It seems you’ve prepared well, Mr. Cardek.”

Jen nodded to the gray dwarf governor, who greeted him with a smile. Today, Jen wore none of his usual mage’s robes; instead, he was dressed as any accomplished noble might be—tailored trousers, a jet-black formal coat embroidered with deep red patterns, a gold-trimmed cloak, and his right hand, clad in a white glove, grasped a black cane. His appearance was a stark contrast to before; once, Jen had seemed a traditional mage, but now he looked every bit the spirited aristocrat, the only similarity being the glint of his spectacles beneath the shadow of his hood.

At Jen’s sides stood Enoya and Verna as ever. Enoya faithfully carried out her duties as adjutant, while Verna maintained her usual cold indifference, appearing uninterested in everything around her. Yet, today, another figure stood at their side.

A girl clad in a mage’s robe, her long hair a shimmering silver-white.

Cardek glanced at her with curiosity but, wisely, refrained from asking questions. Mages were typically shrouded in mystery, and Cardek had no intention of inviting trouble. So he quickly refocused on Jen, his smile broadening as he spoke with enthusiasm.

“Of course, my lord, as you see, I have gathered the bravest warriors in all of Brandon Stonehold! The Axes of Mirabar!”

With that, Cardek spun around, raising both hands high in a display of dwarfish vigor, shedding for a moment the cunning of a governor.

“Their blades and axes are unmatched; no one can stand before them unscathed. They are the embodiment of the gray dwarves’ fury—those damned, foolish, hairy little pests will die screaming beneath our steel!” Cardek laughed heartily. “Rest assured, my lord, I guarantee these dwarves will be your wall of iron, ensuring nothing goes amiss.”

“I hope so,” Jen replied coolly, unimpressed by Cardek’s boasting. He had already noticed that while these warriors looked fierce and temperamental, their equipment was dull and worn. Jen observed the battered gaps in their armor, signs of neglect and disrepair. Some pieces might even have been salvaged from the depths of the warehouse, discarded as obsolete.

Clearly, these dwarves might be brave, but they were by no means the governor’s elite—certainly not the finest warriors Cardek could muster.

“The one at the front is Torg Hammerstrike, our pride here in Brandon Stonehold, mage. I’m sure you’ll work splendidly together...” Cardek paused, casting a barely noticeable glance at Verna before stepping aside. “...By the stones, may your journey be smooth.”

Iris stood quietly behind Jen, her brow furrowed. She didn’t quite understand why the lord of the Undercity would care so much about a handful of goblins, even going so far as to personally lead their destruction. Yet, she could not deny Jen’s formidable influence over Brandon Stonehold. He had managed to persuade the gray dwarf governor to provide him with a force of elite warriors to clear out the goblins—something Iris found almost inconceivable. This realization worried her deeply; it was evident that the Undercity was far more than a mere legend among the races of the dark depths. It meant, should Black Onyx Stonehold ever provoke Jen again, their fate would be as predictable as could be.

Unlike the anxious Iris, Enoya stood impassively behind Jen, eyes narrowed as she observed her master orchestrate this farce. To Enoya, Jen’s greatest strength was not his magic or his combat skill, but his intellect. He always achieved his goals by exploiting the asymmetry of information between others, as he was doing now. He had keenly discerned Cardek’s greed for power and used it to propose his own plans. Cardek, unaware of Jen’s true identity, saw him as nothing more than a mage.

Yet, Iris possessed different knowledge: she knew Jen was lord of the Undercity and assumed the gray dwarves understood this as well. To her, Cardek’s lending of soldiers to Jen became irrefutable proof of an alliance between two powers. This was Jen’s favorite and most practiced craft—understanding, manipulating, and playing with hearts and minds. In his hands, it became a kind of exquisite art. Enoya believed that even without his so-called “system,” her master could still accomplish great things in the Underdark.

Of course, Enoya knew the information Jen revealed was far from simple.

But for now, Iris had more pressing concerns.

“Uh…”

Staring at Jen’s back, Iris lowered her head, a blush rising from her cheeks to her neck. Even so, she hugged herself tightly, glancing nervously to either side.

No wonder Iris was so unsettled. At this moment, aside from her mage’s robe and a pair of boots, she wore nothing else. In other words, Iris was once again venturing out “undressed.”

It left her utterly exasperated, but what could she do? She had, after all, told Jen she would do anything he asked. Yet she hadn’t expected him to seize the opportunity and make such a shameless request. He’d given her only two choices: either wear the scandalously revealing outfit—worse than anything worn by tavern girls—or simply don the mage’s robe.

Unwilling to accept either option? Then spread your legs and let me enjoy myself. After all, you said you’d do anything within your power.

Words should not be spoken lightly, nor food eaten carelessly; Iris now intimately understood the truth of that proverb.

Given the choice between two evils, she chose to go out “undressed.” At least, from the outside, she appeared normal enough.

Yet now, Iris regretted her decision. The mage’s robe Jen provided was beautiful, well-fitted, finely crafted, and comfortable—an exquisite garment by any measure. She ought to have had no complaints.

The problem was, it was so comfortable that, at times, Iris felt as if she were wearing nothing at all. This forced her to constantly check, making sure she was not, in fact, naked—had she read “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” she would have sympathized deeply with the king.

It was hardly comforting. Awkwardly, she raised a hand to cover her chest, shielding the small rise beneath the delicate fabric. As she moved, the fine material slid across her skin, sending a tingling jolt through her body that almost made her cry out.

“Well then, shall we depart, Miss Iris?”

Just as Iris was flustered, Jen’s voice sounded beside her. She looked up to see the young man smiling, extending his right hand with respectful elegance—like a noble inviting her to dance at a palace banquet, not standing amid the rubble of the Underdark. It was so at odds with the impression he’d left before; Iris found herself more and more unable to fathom this man. He could be crude and vulgar as a rogue, yet noble and refined as an aristocrat. Never before had she seen such contradictory traits coexist in one person.

What kind of man was he?

Gazing at Jen’s face, barely visible beneath his hood, Iris hesitated before reaching out to take his offered hand.

Unbeknownst to her, at that very moment, a crimson glow flashed in Jen’s eyes.