Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

"You're leaving?"

Arthur turned to find a familiar frown. He offered a brief smile before shaking his head. "Just going to meet someone in town. I'll be back by evening."

Rose grunted, seemingly unbothered, but he knew the girl well enough to recognize the signs of relief. Her shoulders relaxed, and her fists unclenched.

"Bah, try not to be too late. I won't keep the stew warm for you." She grumbled, turning around and walking into the fields.

"What did I do to get blessed with such an affectionate granddaughter?" He murmured, enjoying the way she twitched and hurried off.

Being cursed with wanderlust had not made their relationship easy. Or, well, it hadn't made any relationship easy. But if he hadn't been willing to roam around so much, he wouldn't have met the dirty, flinty-eyed little girl who now eagerly took care of his land and practiced from dawn to dusk to one day take over from him.

While Arthur was not one to suffer from loneliness, he could admit to feeling glad to have someone to return home to—someone who could serve as his legacy.

She's a good 'un. Not like Griselda at all.

The memory of his biological daughter left a bitter taste in his mind, and he quickly channeled a spark of electricity into his brain, suppressing the emotions that threatened to surface.

Now was not the time to get lost in reminiscence. He had an old friend to meet.

As Arthur walked through the fields, he inhaled the fresh air to steady himself. Horatio was someone he could only meet in his best condition.

Friend or not, he remained the Archmage of Alluria. Courtesies could only go so far when a prize as valuable as a dungeon—or its remains—was at stake.

"Sir Arthur!" A farmer called, waving as he worked hard to loosen the first crop of potatoes.

"Loren," he acknowledged. "Any problems with the harvest?"

"Nay, if anything, it's coming in sooner than 'xpected. We was afraid we might have one less coming in, since we started so late, but the Prelate got us back on schedule."

Arthur nodded before moving on. Marthas was an arrogant man who took advantage of a moment of weakness to expand the temple's influence, but no one could deny that he knew what he was doing.

So much power, and yet so focused on inconsequential matters.

But wasn't that true for nearly everyone who crossed into Prestige? While being skilled at killing was essential—indeed, it was very rare for anyone to gain the necessary experience otherwise—it wasn't enough by itself.

You needed an obsession—something to push you beyond mortal limits. For most people, that obsession was the thirst for more power.

Well, at least he seems focused on spiritual power rather than temporal. If it had been otherwise, Arthur would have had to take matters into his own hands.

Not that he could stand up to the Prelate directly. Even with all his skill, he was merely a bonfire before the howling blaze that was Marthas.

But he had his resources, with connections across the continent that surpassed those of most major nobles.

If it came down to it, Arthur could simply let word reach the Bishop of Ulter, god of the seas and rivers, and suddenly there would be a revival of interest in their forgotten borderland. Even the mere excuse of protecting a nearby stream, flimsy as it might be, would suffice for Sashara's sworn enemy.

Just because a century of surveys hadn't revealed anything but minor deposits and a few natural treasures hiding within the Green Ocean, it didn't mean that everyone had forgotten about Floria.

There had once been much more interest, something that the presence of a dungeon alone threatened to revive.

Which explains why Marthas went to such lengths to destroy it. Already, unconfirmed rumors have reached powerful people. If the dungeon had been allowed to grow, we would have seen thousands flock here, bringing those with enough power to thwart whatever little project he has cooking up.

Regardless, the exiled Prelate could play as he wished as long as he didn't harm anyone. Arthur had bigger issues to deal with.

Can't wait until the kid is strong enough to take over. He should be close to Prestige by now. Having such an abnormal son will light a fire under even the most slothful noble. Heh.

Having finally reached the town proper, Arthur stretched his senses outward. They weren't as fine as that little monster Nick, who could notice the movement of a blade of grass half a mile away, but that had never been his area of interest.

Arthur was a big game hunter, and the only thing he cared about was knowing who was the biggest, baddest one around.

The burning blade that was Eugene rested on top of the wall, practicing to make the final push towards Prestige. The kid was distracted, likely feeling antsy about how close he was.

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I need to visit him and give him a talking-to before he takes the plunge. Breaking through can't be done in Floria unless he wants to burn it down.

That old monster, Ogden, was once again sitting on his porch, looking eastward and coiling his cursed power into himself, always observant of the old Pact. He was probably checking in to ensure that the kids hadn't killed themselves yet.

As if that could happen. Nick alone is enough to ward off any danger in the grassland. Unless something really big happens and the dwarves break through the blockade, he won't have to worry about anything except a few scouting parties and renegade soldiers. It will be a good experience for him, and it's certainly better than being here while Horatio is sniffing around.

Arthur would pay to see the face of the first dwarf stupid enough to mess with the kid's head. They'd probably die on the spot.

Even he had no idea what they had been sheltering, aside from him being an aberration of the highest order.

A young one, to be sure. Just getting his footing. But an aberration, nonetheless. He'll shake the world one day, no matter how much he might not want to. Power attracts power, after all.

Next came the thin, suffocating haze that represented Sashara's encroaching domain. She was almost everywhere now, and for such a young goddess, she was impressively mighty. But neither she nor the blazing star that was Marthas was what he was looking for.

Finally, he found it.

Controlled. Power so tightly reined in that anyone who didn't already know him would have dismissed him as mundane.

Horatio was waiting for him in a private room at the adventurers' guild, seeming to any outside observer like a simple man, albeit dressed a bit strangely.

Arthur knew better. This was the most powerful mage in the west, someone capable of not only immense destruction with his personal skill, but also influential enough to move every noble family from here to the capital with a word.

If he wanted to make trouble, he wouldn't need to lift a finger. That he had come here was a testament to the respect he felt for Arthur—a respect that wasn't born from power, as much as some might foolishly believe, but out of good neighborliness.

Arthur managed the neglected western border while House Crowley attempted to recover, allowing Horatio to focus on research without the concern of minor monster incursions.

No, it is not my power that has led me here.

His status was quite impressive, and Arthur wasn't one to be overly modest, but even he knew it paled in comparison to Horatio's.

If things went wrong, there wouldn't be much he could do to stop him.

I'd have to call on Marthas. Ugh, that would be humiliating. But I guess that's why he's sitting so still. He knows Horatio is in town and is waiting to see what will happen.

This was why he hated high-level priests. Their deep connection with their gods made it impossible to predict what they knew.

Hopefully, it won't come to that. Horatio didn't get to where he is by being a hothead, and our old friendship should count for something.

Entering the guild, Arthur nodded at Fred, the wily innkeeper. As someone who had dedicated his life to maintaining peace among adventurers, he was a dangerous man most knew better than to provoke, but even he seemed unsettled today.

"He's waiting for you," Fred muttered, nodding towards the stairs. Arthur grunted in response, waving as he walked by.

As he walked up the steps, he finally began to feel it. A hundred different spells had been woven around the room, including everything from silencing wards and anti-scrying protections to the much more delicate elemental-diffusion fields.

Suppressing the urge to unleash his power, Arthur ignored the tingling sensation on his skin and the whispers urging him to dare test them as he opened the door.

"Still so paranoid, eh?" He asked, taking in the form of his old friend.

Horatio had once been a handsome man. He had cared for his beautiful appearance, wielding it as skillfully as any of his spells. But that had been half a century ago.

Now he appeared as a wizened old man, with a long beard, a deep purple cloak, and a twinkle in his eyes.

It was all a front, of course. People above Prestige lived long lives, and mages of his level even more so. Had he wanted to, he could have transfigured his flesh into youthful beauty once more. That he didn't implied a great many things.

"Is it paranoia, Arthur, when this town is so deep in the Burnt Goddess' grip?" came the answer. As always, he knew more than he should. However, considering that Arthur himself could sense the domain, it probably shouldn't have been a surprise that someone who surpassed him in all categories had picked it up.

Still, it wouldn't do to let an outsider take a dig at his hometown. He flicked his hands dismissively and took a seat on the plush couch opposite Horatio. "It's just a little power play from a bored Prelate."

That seemed to amuse the Archmage greatly, as he dropped the genial smile and grinned toothily, "You call a Grand Exorcist a bored Prelate? You must have gotten a lot stronger since the last time we saw each other, my friend."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You don't need power to see what is plainly evident. That man should have been waging war against the infernal taint, not playing around with what little shades reach this forgotten corner of the world."

"Ah, but it is not forgotten anymore, isn't it?" Came the sly reply.

"It better be," Arthur grunted. "We already handled the dungeon. Broke the core and all. I don't see why things should change."

Horatio regarded him seriously, inclining his head. "Yes, you were very quick to destroy what could have brought you fabulous wealth. But I suppose that's why the western frontier has survived undisturbed so long, while every such settlement in the north and the south has long since failed to tame the wilds."

Arthur remained silent. He had already said what he wanted. Giving more details would only disadvantage him further.

Seeing that he wasn't falling for the trap most of his students likely did, Horatio let out a dramatic sigh. "There's no need to be so tense, my friend. I'm not here to claim your little crystal forest. At least, not entirely."

A grimace crept onto his expression, but Arthur quickly suppressed it. He'd already known to expect this much. "So how much do you want?"

"So crass!" The old Archmage chuckled, seemingly delighted. "Why, I just want to ensure that no foreign power gets their grubby hands on it. Just allow my Tower to claim… say three-fourths of it, and we will handle all those coming to strong-arm you. A forest made of mana-sensitive crystals will draw the attention of those beyond even the Prelate, even if it is still in its infancy at the moment."

"Three-fourths?!" Arthur sputtered, "That is highway robbery, that's what it is. It is a natural resource that falls under the territory of Floria's noble house! It is protected by Royal Charter!"

Horatio smiled like the cat that caught the canary. "Ah, that might be true. But then, why is the Lord of House Crowley not here to negotiate? I know he wasn't so reticent when he had to handle the first stray dogs that came sniffing around."

Arthur bared his teeth. "You know perfectly well why Lord Eugene is not here. You'd just suppress him and force him to hand over the entirety of the crystal forest."

The whispers intensified then, pressing so heavily against his skin that Arthur had to actively refrain from erupting into a thunderstorm.

Leveling Floria to the ground wouldn't help anything.

Horatio's smile stretched even wider as the old monster relished watching him squirm before the pressure vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. "My friend, there is no need for such hostility. How about two-thirds?"

"One fifth is all I can part with," Arthur grunted, and so began the true negotiation.

It was an unfortunate truth of the world that those without power were beholden to the decisions of those who had it. Arthur could only do so much to slow the tide, and bringing in Horatio would hopefully grant them even more time.

It would likely interfere with whatever game Marthas was playing, though he wouldn't count the old priest out just yet.

He could only hope Eugene would hurry to get stronger because he wanted to retire from this nonsense as soon as possible. And if not him, then one of the little monsters he'd spawned would probably make it there soon enough.