Chapter 70: The Wild Shaman

After the class ended, Louis kept Harold behind and asked him about the muggle wild wizards.

“Wild wizard? Oh, sir, in fact, both my teacher and I are considered wild wizards by other sorcerers—we both come from the ‘Magic Enthusiasts Association,’ and my current position is the vice president of the ‘London City Wizards Association.’”

“Don’t be surprised, sir, there are quite a few ‘craftsmen’ like me in the association,” Harold couldn’t help but recall certain people, “Of course, there are indeed some rotten apples among us…”

Thinking of those rotten apples, Harold shook his head. The last time, he had barely managed to help suppress whatever afflicted Count Crowley’s wife, but he had no idea how things were now, as he hadn’t returned to the London City Wizards Association in ages.

Realizing he had drifted off, Harold hurriedly continued, “Wizards, wizard associations, all these are products of Emperor Francesco’s magical reforms—referring specifically to wizards active among civilians, and alongside them arose court wizards—those specially dispatched to muggle courts by the Ministry of Magic.”

“At that time, everyone was still just ‘enthusiasts’… After all, the association’s backbone was made up of grand wizards from famous sorcerer academies. As for court wizards, they were originally true scholars from the Sacred Icon Tree University. These pioneers helped Sorrento and other kingdoms establish highly sophisticated magical management systems—even more refined than those of the Ministry of Magic and the Magic Council.”

“During that era, every noble and governor had several wizards by their side who truly understood magic—they might have been born muggles, or they might have been sorcerers from the QK family. All were the elite of their kind.”

“The Kingdom of Sorrento nearly became the Sorrento Magical Kingdom. Rumor had it that Sorrento was the birthplace of magic. Wizards from around the world, together with adventurers, roamed far and wide—unlike now, when only Ministry agents can travel.”

“As the people departed, governance faded. After the Witch Queen passed, the council forbade wizards from using magic outside. All those with magical power retreated into their own small circle. Out there, only those without magic remained.”

“Magic gradually vanished from the outside world.”

“The Wizards Association has no magic left, nor any true wizards, only a group of pure enthusiasts with no magical power.”

“And those court wizards, specially selected by the Ministry, are now all those with barely any magical power, with no understanding of spells.”

“We have all become wild wizards—unable to cast spells, with only theory, mere frauds with nothing but empty talk.”

“The irony is, the associations, once teeming with talent, were very discreet. They lived in the city unnoticed—people knew their names, but rarely saw their faces, and they were universally admired. Now, the associations are ostentatious, and although they are still revered… the actual skill level…”

Harold shook his head, “Back in Emperor Francesco’s era, there were many craftsmen like me, but now, among the Magic Enthusiasts Association, there are very few left—The Ministry once launched a witch-hunt, causing every craftsman like me, who understood true magic, to be hunted worldwide by the Ministry and the Magic Council for researching real magic…”

“After Her Majesty Delphinia ascended, things improved, but it was too late. Our generation of civilian wizards who truly understand magic is nearly extinct…”

At this point, Harold, whose mind was never very stable, suddenly broke down, laughing and crying into his hands.

A brief narration appeared before Louis’ eyes.

{Perhaps he was thinking of his teacher.}

{Magic—before those painful dreams were stripped away and turned into dogs (Stuart), Harold never called it magic, but magic arts. Maybe it was because as a child, he followed his teacher, always fleeing the Ministry’s hunts, and the trauma left a shadow over his childhood.}

{“Harold! Magic—never utter that word! Do you hear me, Harold? What I teach you is magic arts, not magic… Remember, Harold, you have never researched magic, nor understood magic, you study magic arts…”}

{“Survive…”}

{That was his teacher’s last words before dying.}

{A group of powerless wild wizards, studying magic—what harm could it do? Magic itself ought to be researched by more people—Louis conceived this idea that terrifies all the world’s wizards.}

{And they are right to be afraid…}

{After all, this frightening mystery man knows how to let those without power use magic…}

“Sir, these magic books—I hope you can copy some for me later. You have no idea what sort of rubbish passes for magic books on sale in London City now. The theory is there, but the spells are all fake!”

“Many have to invent their own spells—you must have seen these people in Blackhorn Alley (wild wizards muttering incomprehensible spells). Once, civilian wizards were celebrated scholars, now, we are the most despised by those who reject knowledge…”

“And worst of all, even we ourselves (wild wizards) have begun to reject knowledge…”

“Because knowledge is meaningless.”

{‘The uselessness of knowledge’—it seems this is the universal value of this world…}

{It is also the doctrine propagated by the ruling nobles…}

{And indeed, for the past three thousand years, sorcerers with frightening knowledge have always lost to those with frightening magical power.}

{But if that’s truly so, then why do the noble families who rule this world go to such lengths, spend all their resources, and desperately try to make their heirs into ‘Sacred Icon Tree Scholars’?}

{And why is it that only scholars can hold the highest offices in the Magic Council of the Ministry?}

{In any case, the council and ministry’s high officials are all nobles…}

A large stack of books was thrown into Harold’s arms. He saw that they were the collected magic books and journals of many famous dark wizards, with annotations and corrections from the Faceless Ones—an invaluable trove.

Though many evil dark spells had been erased by the Faceless Ones, the volumes still contained methods to counter these spells.

This would certainly enrich the collection of the wild wizards, outnumbering everything Harold had gathered through the years.

Even more precious was that the books selected by the Faceless Ones were perfectly suited for beginners, or handed down from dark wizard masters themselves.

Many of the spells had been simplified, and notes included special knowledge—such as what materials to use for spellcasting if magical power was insufficient, or how to arrange a formation to draw magical elements from the environment.

“Harold, I haven’t time to annotate these books, but in the world of the dream mirror, my thoughts are present. So these books, notes, and comments are all direct interpretations made by the Magic Mirror using my thoughts in the dream. Therefore, these writings exist only in this dream world—you’ll need to copy them.”

“The last page of the first book explains how to enter and exit the mirror dream, and how to bring objects in and out. With this dream world, you can travel anywhere. I’ll tell Stuart to leave you a ‘door.’”

“Remember, if anyone learns what I’ve given and does evil…”

“Sir!” Harold choked out, “I will bring their body and soul to you to atone!”

“That’s enough for today, Harold.” Louis heard knocking outside the dream, guessing it was already past six in the morning. “I have business today—once I’m done, I’ll leave a base for us in Blackhorn Alley. If you urgently need me and can’t find me, go there and look for ‘Voodoo Marquis Ross’… Yes, let that sycophant stay there.”

Louis walked out of the dream, leaving Harold alone, clutching the books and sobbing uncontrollably.

{Clearly, there are things Louis hasn’t told Harold—besides developing dark forces like Blackhorn Alley, he will also step into the center stage of history within the Ministry of Magic.}

{Today, he will take the first step on both the paths of light and darkness…}

…

A few minutes later.

The real world.

Early in the morning, a group of little Yordles knocked at the door.

“Go answer it, Helen,” Louis said, rubbing his eyes as he headed to the washroom.

Helen opened the door, curious, and found it was people sent from the ‘Magic Kitty’ restaurant—the owner of that establishment was a Yordle.

“From now on, we’ll handle all your meals!”

“No need to be shy! Please accept!”

“Try this, it’s our newest dish!”

Looking at the heap of baskets the little Yordles placed on the ground, Helen was a bit bewildered. The breakfast was enough for a dozen people, as if they feared someone might not get enough to eat. And the chefs at Magic Kitty were notoriously precious—never preparing special orders for anyone, and even ordering required waiting in line.

It was the first time she’d ever heard of meals being delivered unprompted.

“Thank you, thank you all,” Helen said, seeing them wave goodbye. She waved back and thanked them repeatedly.

As Louis peeked out while brushing his teeth, he saw Helen struggling to carry the baskets inside, as if she were stepping on mushrooms. With a wave of his toothbrush at the baskets, they all sprang to life, hopping into the house, even lifting Helen herself and carrying her in with the pile.

One small basket leapt up, positioned itself beneath the mailbox, caught all the letters spilling out, and delivered them inside.

By the time Louis finished washing and came out wiping his mouth, the meals were cheerfully climbing onto the table by themselves. Helen, eyes shining, gazed at the exquisite dishes like they were treasures.

Seeing Helen’s curious look, Louis hung the towel on his shoulder and sat beside her.

“Oh, I helped the Magic Kitty owner’s child out of a scrape yesterday. Go ahead and eat.” Louis didn’t actually know who all those little Yordles were—he made it up.

Helen’s eyes sparkled—vanquishing evil? Acting with justice?

“Was it office business, Louis? Why didn’t you call me along? Next time, I must go too!”

Louis smiled at this former assistant of Lilith, saying nothing about the Foxes’ Lounge. He opened a letter and, after reading, said, “Wait for the weekend—I’ll take you on a tour of London.”

The territory of the client recommended by Belif was in the countryside outside London City. Within the city itself, there was also a Magic Enthusiasts Association—though, according to their own claims, they weren’t enthusiasts but the ‘Wizards Association.’

He’d stay there for a while, taking care of everything at once.

Hearing they would visit a muggle city, Helen jumped with excitement. Pureblood witches like her had never been outside before adulthood. She was eighteen now, and since joining the office, had always hoped to see the world. Now there was finally a chance.

Helen fussed and flattered in the corner, while Louis continued to read the letters.