The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 67: The Price of Power

Hutson took a quick measure of the room. It was massive, easily spanning five to six hundred square meters. At the far end, a grand bed, large enough to comfortably fit six or seven people, dominated the space.

Before he could settle in, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. Moments later, two armored guards entered, struggling under the weight of a golden chest.

They placed it before Hutson and Kieran, the sheer weight of wealth inside making the floorboards creak.

"Leave us," Kieran ordered.

Without a word, the guards bowed their heads and hurried out, never once daring to look directly at Hutson.

Kieran lifted the gilded lid, revealing a gleaming hoard of gold coins, their brilliance reflecting the candlelight.

"This is the ten thousand gold Lord Joshi promised," Kieran said. "Sir Hutson, please inspect your payment."

Hutson let out a pleased chuckle. "Not bad."

With a flick of his wrist, he vanished the entire chest into his storage space. Even the chest itself, crafted of solid gold, was worth a small fortune.

Kieran continued, "Sir Hutson, you may rest here. If you wish to explore the castle, the servants outside will attend to your needs. Tonight, there will be a grand banquet in your honor."

Hutson, without ceremony, collapsed onto the luxurious bed, sinking into its plush embrace. "Sounds good."

Kieran gave a respectful bow before exiting the chamber, pausing outside to quietly instruct the two maids standing at attention.

As he lay in the extravagant room, Hutson mused aloud, "The Violet Kingdom truly deserves its reputation as the wealthiest land in the south. If a mere count holds this much wealth, it’s no wonder his sons are ready to kill each other for it."

The Tasonei Territory had appeared insignificant on his map, just a small speck of land. But now, seeing it firsthand, he realized how little the map had told him.

He spent the next few hours in deep meditation, planning his next steps for the journey ahead.

By nightfall, a soft knock echoed from the door.

"Sir Hutson, it is time for the banquet," came a melodic voice.

When he opened his eyes, two young maids stood at the entrance. Their attire was... revealing. Snow-pale skin, bare shoulders, and plunging necklines made it difficult to focus on anything else.

Hutson sighed inwardly. Nobles and their theatrics.

"Lead the way," he said lazily, allowing his hands to casually explore as he passed. The maids merely giggled softly, unflinching.

They led him through an endless maze of corridors and halls, the sheer vastness of the estate proving more tedious than impressive.

"At a certain point," Hutson muttered, "having a palace this large just becomes a nuisance. Why should getting to dinner take half an hour?"

The castle, despite its size, felt eerily empty. The only people he encountered were guards and servants, their presence a silent reminder of the power the Banks family wielded.

The banquet was held in the largest palace chamber, though the attendance was surprisingly low.

Hutson counted. Sixty guests. Excluding guards and servants, it was a small gathering by noble standards.

At the head of the grand table, seated beneath an elaborate tapestry, was Count Huen Banks himself.

Hutson recognized him instantly from the colossal portrait he had seen earlier. His real presence was even more imposing.

Flanking him were his two sons—Joshi and Ruchi—each seated in their respective places of power. Beyond them, the table was lined with extended family members, distant relatives, and key allies.

"Sir Hutson!"

Joshi greeted him with exuberance, his extravagant banquet attire making him appear even bulkier than before.

Hearing his son’s call, Count Huen turned, his gaze falling upon Hutson.

A broad smile crossed the count’s face as he rose to his feet.

"Sir Hutson," he said warmly, his voice carrying across the chamber. "You have saved my son’s life. The Banks family owes you a great debt, one we will not forget."

Hutson was seated close to the head table, an honorary position. The meal was lavish, but the atmosphere remained subdued—a quiet, contemplative tension hanging in the air.

When the feast concluded, the traditional noble dance began.

Hutson, however, had little interest in such customs.

Instead, Count Huen and his sons approached, goblets of wine in hand.

They raised their glasses in unison.

"Sir Hutson," Count Huen said, his eyes gleaming with gratitude, "a toast—to your bravery!"

Hutson clinked his goblet against theirs, but the moment he brought the drink to his lips, his nose twitched slightly.

A faint trace of something... familiar.

Lowering his goblet, his gaze flicked to the count.

"Your Excellency," he said, his tone casual, yet piercing. "Your body—you’ve been wounded."

The table fell silent.

Joshi, already slightly drunk, slammed his goblet down, his face flushed with urgency.

"Two months ago," he blurted out, "someone tried to assassinate my father. The killer failed—but my father was gravely injured. To this day, he has not recovered."

Hutson narrowed his eyes. His nose didn’t lie.

He could smell it. The lingering scent of dark energy particles—black magic.

Joshi grabbed his father’s arm. "Father, let Sir Hutson examine you. He... This is not the place. Let’s move somewhere more private."

Count Huen hesitated, then nodded.

The group quietly withdrew to a private chamber, leaving the festivities behind.

Inside, the atmosphere grew heavier.

Ruchi followed as well, his brows furrowed in concern—though whether for his father or for the potential revelations, it was hard to say.

At the door, Kieran took position, his expression steeled, ensuring that no one else would enter.

Hutson settled into a chair, taking a slow sip from his goblet.

The wine was exquisite—a vintage he had heard of but never imagined tasting.

"Expensive," he mused aloud. "Beyond what I could afford before."

Then, his golden eyes flicked toward the count.

"Now then," he said, leaning forward, the glow of candlelight flickering against his sharp features.

"Let’s talk about what’s really wrong with you."

"Sir Hutson, can you save my father?" Joshi’s voice trembled with urgency, his eyes filled with desperate hope.

Hutson set down his goblet, his expression unreadable. "I don’t know. I’d have to see the wound first."

Joshi turned to his father, his gaze pleading.

Count Huen hesitated for a long moment before sighing heavily. With slow, laborious movements, he began removing his outer garments. Even this simple task seemed to drain him, his hands trembling as he struggled with the layers of fine noble attire.

When the last of the heavy robes slipped away, the extent of his injuries was revealed.

A deep black wound marred his side. Though bandages and medicinal salves had been applied, the foul stench of decay still clung to the air, seeping from the wound like a curse.

Hutson’s gaze sharpened as he stepped closer. He had seen wounds like this before—this was no ordinary affliction.

Dark energy particles coiled around the wound like living shadows, preventing it from healing. No amount of conventional medicine would ever close it. It was a curse, a wound inflicted by something far beyond mortal steel.

"Didn’t expect the wound to be this severe," Hutson muttered.

Count Huen gave a weary smile. "I have long accepted my fate. With Joshi missing these past weeks, I had little reason to fight it. But now... he has returned safely. That is enough. I can die in peace." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Father!" Joshi clutched at his father’s sleeve, his voice filled with barely contained grief.

Hutson tilted his head. "Die? From this? It’s just a small wound."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Joshi and the others turned to him, shock flashing across their faces.

"A small wound?" Count Huen’s voice wavered with disbelief. "You mean... you can heal it?"

They had already sought out countless renowned physicians, yet not one had been able to help. Some had refused outright, while others had attempted treatments in vain, leaving only despair in their wake.

They had even considered searching for a ’mysterious one’, but such individuals were nearly impossible to find, much less persuade.

Yet now, before them, stood a man who spoke of the impossible as if it were nothing.

Hutson smirked. "I can heal it. The real question is—what’s it worth to you?"

His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his intentions were clear.

The Banks family was wealthy beyond imagination—and Hutson had no qualms about making them pay a fair price. He had never felt guilt over taking a noble’s gold. After all, they had plenty to spare.

Count Huen fell into deep thought, his brow furrowed. He was not reluctant to pay—no, the issue lay in what to offer.

This man... he was no ordinary physician.

He was one of the Mysterious Ones—a being of power beyond the mundane world.

What could one offer a sorcerer to make the deal worthwhile?

Gold? No, that was too simple. He suspected a wizard of Hutson’s caliber already had more than enough coin. And besides, carrying vast sums of gold was inconvenient.

Women? A cheap offer—one unworthy of a man who dealt in the arcane.

One by one, he discarded possibilities, shaking his head in frustration.

Then, at last, his gaze hardened with resolve.

"Sir Hutson," Count Huen said, his voice firm. "If you can heal me, I will grant you access to the Banks family’s treasury. You may enter freely and choose any three treasures you desire."