The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 71: The Village

Count Huen had originally insisted on assigning a retinue of guards, but after some thought, Hutson declined. The presence of such escorts was more symbolic than practical—any threat he could handle made them unnecessary, and anything beyond his ability would render them useless.

Besides, within the domain of the Banks family, few bandits would dare to ambush one of their carriages. The additional protection seemed excessive.

In the end, he retained only the coachman. Having someone who knew the roads meant he could focus on more important matters.

"Sir Hutson..." Josh hesitated, his words faltering.

Hutson, already stepping toward the carriage, turned back with a knowing smile. "Your father has years ahead of him. You won’t have to worry much."

Had the dark energy particles within Count Huen remained, his life would have been drastically shortened. In that case, his sons would have inevitably been drawn into a vicious struggle for power.

But now, with their father still possessing decades to rule, there was no need for such a bloody conflict. They could simply indulge in the excesses of nobility, heirs to wealth and privilege rather than warriors in a desperate battle for succession.

Josh nodded firmly. "Safe travels, Sir Hutson."

The carriage was clearly a product of Count Huen’s meticulous planning. Inside, a spacious bed draped in fine silk awaited, offering comfort for the long journey. A cabinet lined the rear wall, its compartments filled with bottles of aged red wine. The back half of the carriage was packed with provisions—more than enough for both Hutson and the coachman.

The coachman, Sid, was a sharp-eyed young man of nineteen, his demeanor marked by an intelligent keenness.

The carriage itself was lavishly adorned, its exterior bearing the unmistakable crest of the Banks family. As it moved through the streets, pedestrians instinctively stepped aside, wary of drawing unnecessary attention.

Inside, Hutson reclined, allowing his thoughts to drift into meditation.

In the depths of his mind, the seventh star of his consciousness was slowly forming. He followed his disciplined routine, progressing through his training with steady patience. Until he discovered a method to accelerate his mental refinement, there was no point in rushing.

Two hours passed before he opened his eyes, deep in thought.

"At this pace, I’ll need another three months to complete this stage of meditation. That means over a year before I meet the threshold for Third-Class Apprentice Wizard. This body is fifteen—I must ascend to a full-fledged wizard before eighteen."

Most accomplished wizards completed their ascension before reaching eighteen. Any delay significantly diminished the probability of success.

Hutson had yet to grasp the exact reason behind this, but one thing was clear—he had to strengthen himself.

"AI chip, search for methods to accelerate meditation or enhance mental power."

"Searching..."

"165 methods found."

Hutson narrowed his focus. "Filter out those with side effects. Show only those I can accomplish at my current stage."

"Two viable methods found:

Brew a potion to enhance meditation speed.Brew a potion to increase mental power for faster advancement."

Hutson’s eyes sharpened. "Is there a formula for the meditation-enhancing potion?"

"The formula requires further research and experimentation."

"How long will that take?"

"Task logged. Estimated completion: six hours. Estimated mana consumption: 19%."

Hutson raised an eyebrow. "That long?" He had not expected AI chip to require six hours for this task.

"This process involves extensive data calculations and theoretical projections," the entity explained.

Hutson decided to let AI chip proceed before moving on to the mental power potion. He had little hope, though. Potions that directly enhanced mental power were notoriously expensive, far beyond his current means. He doubted AI chip would miraculously create a cheap alternative.

Three hours later, the carriage slowed.

They had long left the city behind, traversing desolate wilderness for miles. From the driver’s seat, Sid called back, "My lord, there’s a village up ahead. We can rest there for the night."

Hutson gave a quiet nod. Resting in a populated area was always safer—one never knew what dangers lurked in the wild.

The carriage rolled to a halt. Sid pulled back the curtain and bowed his head. "My lord, we have arrived."

Stepping down, Hutson surveyed the village before him. The settlement was old and worn, its houses little more than crude mud structures, reminiscent of primitive dwellings carved from the earth.

Villagers peered from doorways and windows, their wary eyes locked onto the two newcomers.

At the village entrance, an elderly man with a frail frame and white-streaked hair dropped to his knees the moment he saw Hutson. His voice trembled as he pleaded, "Mercy, my lord! We will pay our taxes as soon as we can. But we have nothing now... Please, grant us more time!"

Hutson regarded the old man calmly before speaking.

"I am not here to collect taxes. I am merely passing through and plan to stay for the night. If my presence causes any disturbance, I apologize."

The old man looked up, disbelief and cautious hope flickering in his eyes as the weight of his fears momentarily lifted.

The old man’s head lifted with great effort, his weary eyes straining toward the grand carriage. His voice, hoarse with disbelief, wavered. "Not here for taxes? But that carriage... it bears the—"

Before he could finish, Sid stepped forward, his tone brisk yet firm. "Lord Hutson is a guest of the Banks family. We are merely passing through."

At those words, the old man’s tension eased slightly. He had indeed been mistaken, and the weight on his heart lightened, if only a little.

Sid, however, wasted no time. "Bring out whatever food you have. The lord has traveled far and needs a good meal. And prepare your finest room—he requires proper rest." His words carried an air of unquestionable authority, as if this were the most natural request in the world.

The old man’s face tightened with unease, but he dared not refuse. He bowed his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will make the arrangements."

Hutson, observing the impoverished state of the village, felt a trace of skepticism. What could they possibly offer? Their homes were crumbling, their people thin and weary—what kind of hospitality could they even provide?

Before the elder could turn away, Hutson raised a hand to stop him. "That won’t be necessary. We have our own provisions. And from what I see, you hardly have enough for yourselves." His gaze swept across the meager dwellings. "As for lodging, my carriage will suffice. There’s no need to trouble yourselves further."

"This..." Sid hesitated, clearly caught off guard. To him, such arrangements were customary. It was expected that the common folk serve nobility—it was the natural order of things.

In fact, he had already planned to pick a fair-looking village girl and send her to Hutson’s chambers for the night.

But before he could act on that thought, Hutson’s sharp gaze locked onto him, a quiet warning in his eyes.

"We are here for a single night. Don’t turn this village upside down. I prefer peace and quiet."

Sid, sensing the unspoken command beneath Hutson’s words, lowered his head in deference. "Understood, my lord."

Hutson was no savior. He held no illusions of changing the fate of these people. The suffering of the weak was not a burden he could shoulder alone—this was the nature of the world, and he was no fool to think otherwise.

But he would not stoop to bleeding the already starved. With food in his own hands, he had no need to take from those who had nothing.

Tonight, at least, this village would know no further cruelty from him.