“Seven hundred forty-one gold coins? That’s nothing.”
Back at her mansion in the Imperial Capital, Frostsilver said as she stepped out of the carriage.
“Seven hundred forty-one gold coins? That’s just eleven percent of what I’m wearing.”
While bathing in a pool strewn with rose petals, enjoying a servant’s massage, Frostsilver said.
“Seven hundred forty-one gold coins? It’s negligible compared to the total value of my travel entourage.”
Morning.
“Seven hundred forty-one gold coins? Compared to my lands, it’s just a single hair on a sheep.”
After dinner.
“Seven hundred forty-one gold coins? Compared to all my wealth, it’s merely a single hair on a flock of sheep.”
While reading, Frostsilver said as much.
She held a book with a leather cover, well-preserved, titled How to Stay Optimistic.
She went to bed, clutching the top of her blanket, and fell into a deep sleep.
She dreamed of her childhood, hiding precious things she had painstakingly stolen or snatched, only for her older brother to grab her hind legs, dangle her, and shake them all out, confiscating everything.
She woke abruptly, then thought of her brother’s daughter, who, despite her precautions, had stolen the staff from her hand.
Her chest heaved with anger as she cursed, “When I was little, my brother bullied me. Now that I’ve grown and gained power, his daughter bullies me. Have I grown up for nothing? No, no, it’s just seven hundred forty-one gold coins…”
Frostsilver took deep, forceful breaths.
“Mine, it’s all mine, everything for the grand plan.”
She gradually calmed down, but suddenly, fury surged again.
Kicking the blanket with her willow-like legs, she shouted, “Yah! Yah! Yah!”
It took a long time before she fell back asleep.
When she woke, there were social engagements, conspiracies, and discussions, and evening came again.
She continued reviewing How to Stay Optimistic, feeling she had gained much from it.
Raising her hand, a translucent bookshelf appeared in the air, tall enough to serve as a prison wall, six of them forming a honeycomb-like enclosure around her.
She placed How to Stay Optimistic on the shelf, along with Shannasa’s Guide to Everything from her cluttered desk.
The desk was a mess, as if two huskies had romped across it, with manuscripts scattered everywhere.
Frostsilver lazily stretched, preparing to go to bed.
“Ding ding.”
A silver bell rang, signaling a servant’s visit.
Only those Frostsilver permitted could enter.
Otherwise, an outsider would need a hundred men, multiple spellcasters, and a battering ram meant for city gates to break through the seemingly flimsy wooden door.
Even so, Frostsilver wasn’t entirely satisfied with the room’s temporary fortifications.
In this secure, secluded room, upon hearing the silver bell, Frostsilver quickly clapped her hands.
A gust of wind swept through, blowing all the manuscripts off the desk—the work of an invisible servant.
In their place appeared:
A small altar, topped with a silver dragon baring its fangs and claws, dedicated to worshipping the dragon tied to her bloodline.
Frostsilver claimed her family’s power stemmed from it.
Several dragon scales hung on the wall in front of the desk, used to resonate with her dragon-blooded heritage.
Bloodstones, like pomegranates bought on the street, were piled on the desk.
A massive, ancient parchment map depicted dragon ruins.
With another wave of her hand, the door opened.
A maid and a man in a gray robe appeared at the threshold.
The emblem on the gray-robed man’s chest marked him as a member of the Coastal Wizards’ Guild—a renowned “mutual aid” organization of mages.
“Mistress,” the maid bowed respectfully to Frostsilver.
“An envoy from the Coastal Wizards’ Guild insists on personally delivering ‘some honor’ to the recipient.”
The male mage corrected her, “It’s the Coastal Wizards’ Guild’s Outstanding Scholar Lifetime Honor, awarded to Frostsuya to thank her for her contributions to the magical world. I need to meet her in person so her portrait can appear in the Hall of Honor, and she can access the most restricted library.”
Frostsilver said, “I remember, it’s that old hag from my family.”
“Please call her a master.”
“A pitiful creature,” Frostsilver said. “Reading books all year, her thick glass lenses wrinkling her nose and bending her back. She buries her head in stacks of heavy tomes like a dog eating its food. When she stands, she needs both hands on her staff, using it as a cane. When she hears about some honor certificate or praising letter from distant bookworms like her, her face flushes with excitement, and she puffs out her chest with pride, but…”
Frostsilver continued in a near-malicious tone, “That hopelessly bent back can’t straighten no matter how hard she tries. Heh, when she puffs out her chest, she’s still shorter than I was at twelve, and she holds the honor certificate upside down.”
“Countess of Champagne,” the male mage’s voice brimmed with anger and dissatisfaction, “you’re viciously attacking a scholar and master who’s made immense contributions to the magical world, whose name will live in magical history. You shouldn’t judge her with personal grudges or disdain. Respect is the basic courtesy one offers another, especially in the face of such glorious achievements.”
“Hmph, my apologies,” Frostsilver said flippantly.
“I was just describing her appearance for you to use in crafting her portrait in the Hall of Honor. Honestly, it’s no trouble—your Wizards’ Guild is full of that type.”
“Are you attacking all mages?”
“What? Did reading make you dumb? Only now catching on?”
Frostsilver said.
“Didn’t they tell you when they sent you to deliver the letter that I equally despise all mages?”
“Because your innate magic comes from your bloodline?”
The male mage had already cast aside his senior’s warning:
“Never argue with the Countess of Champagne; you’ll die of anger.”
“Naturally,” Frostsilver said.
“My bloodline is innately noble and powerful. I only need to harness the overflowing dragon magic within my ancestral blood. Unlike you lot, gnawing on books while thinking you’re superior. As if ruining your eyes and slaving over books for a decade is something to be proud of—more prideful than mastering magic through sleeping and eating. Pathetic.”
“Many sorcerers, through chance encounters or even whims like talking to the wind, become sorcerers just like you,” the mage countered.
“Yet you rely on your noble, ancient bloodline to stand equal with them. What do you think of that?”
“I know,” Frostsilver said.
“Some people slip on mossy rocks while fishing in a stream, knock themselves out, wake up talking to themselves, and can cast spells. Just a bunch of wild sorcerers. Look at the little trinkets behind me that help me effortlessly harness my innate magic. You could spend your whole life and only afford one bloodstone on this desk.”
“But even wild sorcerers, knocking their heads while fishing, surpass your decade of book study. The only value you mages have is developing new spells for us sorcerers.”
“You, you, you!” the male mage sputtered.
“I can’t believe Master Frostsuya would serve in such a venomous family and let you collect her honor!”
“Because she knows her place,” Frostsilver said.
“Serving my family is her fortune. You, old man, should take a lesson from your senior’s career choice. Of course, I wouldn’t hire a shrimp like you, but in my mercy, I’ll give you one last piece of advice: instead of slaving over books in your middle age, go step on more mossy rocks by the stream—the slipperier, the better.”
The male mage’s face turned ashen, his anger reaching its peak.
He wasn’t a nobody; delivering a letter to Master Frostsuya was an honor.
Usually, people spoke to him kindly, with respect.
But under Frostsilver’s provocations and insults, he realized any verbal counterattack would be feeble.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the fire in his eyes still burned.
“Countess of Champagne,” he finally said, suppressing the tremble in his voice, each word forced through gritted teeth, “I must say, this conversation has been utterly deplorable. Your attitude is an insult not just to a wizard, but to anyone with dignity.”
He turned to leave but paused at the door without looking back, his voice calmer but still laced with unmistakable anger.
“I will report today’s events to the Coastal Wizards’ Guild. Not to seek punishment, because I know that means nothing to you. But I hope this serves as a lesson—respect is still a virtue.”
“As for the honor award, I’ll find another way to deliver it to Master Frostsuya. I refuse to waste more time arguing with you.”
His voice dripped with disappointment and indignation.
“You’re unworthy of touching her glory.”
Frostsilver said, “What if I say no?”
The male mage believed his trigger spells and other magic would keep Frostsuya’s honor certificate out of Frostsilver’s hands.
But as Frostsilver spoke, her right golden eye reflected the mage and blinked.
A blue aura radiated from the mage, and a ring of rough blue ice crystals exploded around him.
It was the aftermath of shattering magical power, instantly dispelling all his enchantments.
Super-magic instant-cast dispel?
The mage’s mind raced, but Frostsilver slowly uttered a dragon-tongue incantation.
The mage began chanting, far faster than Frostsilver, like a sprinter against a turtle.
But he recognized the ancient dragon tongue in her mouth—it wasn’t an incantation; it was the spell’s name!
She didn’t need to recite lengthy chants.
His mood was like a sprinter realizing, at the starting line, that the turtle only needed to move a centimeter.
She said, “Humanoid Hold.”
Instantly, paralyzing power surged through the mage’s body.
He couldn’t move, his mouth frozen open, his tongue stiff in mid-air, trying to push out the spell.
Frostsilver strode forward with long, elegant legs, her steps breezy, and plucked the parchment letter with a red wax seal from his hand, opening it.
Inside was a certificate bearing the Coastal Wizards’ Guild’s seal, with gilded text, and an ancient badge.
“Pathetic,” Frostsilver said scornfully, tossing it to the floor behind her.
The mage watched helplessly as the highest honor of wizardry was discarded like trash, the ancient, limited-edition badge rolling across the floor.
The door shut coldly behind him, accompanied by a disdainful hmph before it closed.
Frostsilver locked the door, and the outside noise vanished.
Feeling much better, she smiled happily.
How to Stay Optimistic must have a line about happiness being built on others’ pain.
The badge rolled under the bed.
“Damn it! Where’s my badge!” Frostsilver rushed over, her high heels slipping, and she fell heavily on the flat floor.
Even as she fell, she didn’t instinctively brace with her hands but reached desperately for the badge, grabbing it just before it rolled under the bed.
“Thud!”
Frostsilver hit the ground face-first, rolling in pain.
Holding the badge to her face, she blew on it and smiled at it.