Magma Dragon's Heir

Chapter 256 - Punishment

37th of Season of Earth, 220th year of the 32nd cycleNewt’s first instinct was to say no. But he couldn’t say no to the heresy hunters. They might accuse him or the order as a whole of being cultists or cult supporters. They might attack outright. Newt could survive a few blows from ninth-realmers. He could even fight back, depending on how unsculpted their realms were. But people wearing half-gold, half-green had to be powerful, as those were the colors granted to the highest officials outside the imperial family.

They probably had enough time and resources to complete at least sixty to seventy percent of their realms once they crossed the fifth. Meaning they were powerful, and since they were heresy hunters, meant to battle the four cults, they must have been at least capable combatants.

“Master is in seclusion, please understand, causing damage to an exalt is no trivial matter.” Newt tried to defuse the situation, citing the law, but without blinking, the man threw Newt a potion bottle.

“This will compensate for a moon of your master’s effort; let’s go see him.”

Newt could tell the bottle was thrumming with energy, an exalt-grade potion. He stored it in his spatial pouch and nodded.

“Please follow me.” He was powerless to stop them. The only thing he could do was to contain the damage when they discovered that the Explorer’s Gate’s exalt was not, in fact, home.

Newt’s mind raced, half of it focused on keeping all of his bodily functions exactly the way they were before the conversation with the imperial officials. Outing his panic and his plotting against them would only worsen his position.

Then, he started thinking about the situation in general. Sending two peak ninth realm experts for an audit and to deliver a message was definitely irregular. And why heresy hunters and not ministers? The only thing he could conclude was that the imperials suspected something. Only Newt and his Master knew what was happening, so nobody else could let anything slip.

Grim scenarios kept building up in Newt’s mind as they went deep into the forest. If they fought at the gatemaster’s residence, within a defensive barrier, even with the two grandmasters inside the order’s protective wards, the casualties should be minimal.

The old shack came into view. Newt nonchalantly crossed the invisible line of spell seals, but the grandmasters stopped at the edge of the ward. Right at the edge.

The barriers were inactive. Next to impossible to spot casually, and yet they stopped exactly a step away from them.

“Gatemaster Greenthorn!” the woman boomed, her voice infused with so much mana it made his bones shake. Newt’s heart skipped a beat despite him minding it. The fight was inevitable, and if they knew about the wards, that meant they were expecting sneak attacks.

He was estimating who was the softer target of the two. The woman projected a menacing aura; the man seemed stout and invulnerable—.

The door of the hut slammed open. Gatemaster Greenthorn walked out spitting blood.

“There better be a good reason for interrupting my seclusion.”

A look of terrified surprise flickered across the heresy hunters’ faces, but they calmed the next moment.

“We meant no disrespect,” the woman stammered, visibly shaken.

“Tell me, what’s the punishment for wounding an exalt?” Gatemaster Greenthorn was livid, and Newt had no idea what was going on.

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I am an imperial servant!” the woman shouted indignantly, but the gatemaster was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her neck like a band of steel.

“If you are an imperial servant, you know how one approaches an exalt who is in secluded meditation. You have a textbook with a step-by-step protocol.” Her skin hissed and popped, a soundless scream of agony escaping her twisted mouth.

The other man bowed deeply, not even bothering to put up a fight. “We were acting under false information. We will compensate you for your injuries and the loss of mana.”

A veritable chest of potions appeared on the ground before him, all of them blazing with mana.

“These should be more than sufficient.”

Gatemaster Greenthorn scanned the dozen bottles and then released the woman.

“What is the punishment for disturbing an exalt in secluded meditation?” he asked her again, a fiery handprint visible on her neck.

“Whatever the exalt says, Lord,” she rasped, the gatemaster hadn’t cooked only her skin, but the damage seemed to have been much worse deep beneath, where it couldn’t be seen.

“You should thank your partner. I was close to killing you for your offense. As is my legal right. Now, if there was nothing else you wanted to do except interrupt my seclusion, you may leave.”

They turned to leave, but the gatemaster spoke again. “Let me ask you one thing, which of my order’s enemies has fed you information to interrupt me at this crucial point? Who are we going to war against?”

“Information about informants of the heresy hunters is confidential, Lord,” the man said, then a bit of anger seeped into his voice. “But trust me, we’re going to find out what the meaning of this was. And if someone has tried to use us as a knife, they will pay dearly.”

Newt moved to follow them, but Gatemaster Greenthorn spoke. “Newstar, you will stay here and tell me exactly what it is that the heresy hunters wanted with us.”

“Yes, Master,” Newt replied meekly, and followed the gatemaster towards his hut.

“Collect the potions first.”

Newt did so, then went into the ancient building.

“Master—”

Gatemaster Greenthorn raised his hand and private wards. “Now, you may speak.”

“Weren’t you—” he stopped himself in time. “Busy?”

He wiped the blood off his lips and his chaotic flow of mana stopped, the exalt once more turning into a man-shaped void in Newt’s mindcore.

“What now?”

Newt tried asking through mental communication, but he was stretched thin and lacked the time to master the art.

“And your injury, Master? How severe is it?”

“Actually, they gave me a potion to bring them to your residence, so it’s thirteen potions.”

“Even better.” Gatemaster Greenthorn smiled; scamming the imperial administration brought him no small amount of joy.

“Why?”

the exalt smiled.

He laughed and shook his head before speaking aloud. “Pure genius.”