Chapter 43: Equal Exchange!
The next day, Leonard followed the address David had given her and found Beauvoir's house.
Beauvoir eyed the young man warily as he approached. "Who are you looking for? My husband's out. If it's important, you can talk to him when he gets back."
Leonard smiled gently. "You must be Beauvoir," he said.
Beauvoir stiffened, eyeing him suspiciously. She never told anyone her real name.
"I'm a friend of your husband," Leonard added.
Beauvoir didn't respond, only lowering her head to continue washing vegetables, lips pressed tight. She wasn't buying it. "He just went out," she muttered. "He'll be back soon."
Leonard, undeterred, reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket watch.
Beauvoir's eyes snapped to it.
Her heart skipped a beat. She recognized that watch instantly. It was the one she'd bought for David on his birthday. He loved it so much that he rarely wore it, always keeping it close, showing it off to friends.
"Can I see it?" Beauvoir asked, her voice quieter now, a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
Leonard handed it over, and she took the watch, her fingers trembling slightly. She inspected it carefully. The small dent in the corner of the dial, just as she remembered.
"It's his watch..." she whispered, still processing the sight.
"Are you really David's friend?" she asked, her voice a little softer now.
"Yes," Leonard replied, meeting her gaze steadily.
Beauvoir's face twisted in uncertainty. "Is he... is he still alive?"
Leonard paused, weighing his words. Saying David was dead would be cruel, so he nodded. "He's alive."
Beauvoir's expression hardened, but her voice trembled. "Then why hasn't he come to see me? Why hasn't he come back?" Her eyes were full of worry, her hands still gripping the pocket watch.
Leonard sighed. "It's... complicated. He's not in a position to come right now."
"Not in a position?" Beauvoir's voice rose. "Has he found someone else? Does he not want me anymore? If that's it, tell me, and I'll make it right!" She finished washing the vegetables, her shoulders stiff, avoiding his gaze.
Leonard couldn't help but chuckle, though it was soft. It was clear she knew her husband well enough to guess what might be happening, even before he'd said anything.
Beauvoir's voice softened again. "Maybe I'll just treat him as gone. I can live without him."
Leonard was taken aback by the sudden bitterness in her tone. There was an undeniable stubbornness about her, one he hadn't expected.
But he knew she deserved to know the truth. Misunderstandings like this could tear people apart, and Leonard wasn't about to let that happen. He looked her in the eyes.
"There's been an accident," he said quietly.
Beauvoir froze, her hands stilling in the water. "What kind of accident?" Her voice was shaky, her eyes wide with fear. In a moment of panic, she twisted the vegetables in her hands too hard, breaking them.
Leonard took a deep breath, carefully choosing his next words. "What if he comes back... changed? What if he seems a little strange, maybe even scares you at first? Would you still want to see him?"
Beauvoir blinked, her expression flickering between confusion and determination. "I'd still want to meet him. Maybe I'd be scared at first, but... I could handle it. After all, his snoring used to keep me up, but I got used to it." She smiled faintly, the tension easing from her shoulders.
Leonard smiled back, relieved. "I think it's best if he tells you himself, when he's ready."
Beauvoir nodded slowly, her hands trembling as she held the pocket watch to her chest. "He'll come back, right?" she asked softly.
"Yes," Leonard assured her. "He will."
After leaving Beauvoir's house, Leonard asked a few passersby for directions and soon found Falk Street. It was one of the oldest streets in Bangor Harbor, and in a rapidly developing city, "old" often meant dilapidated. But Falk Street was different, surprisingly neat and well-kept. Tall sycamore trees lined both sides of the broad road, casting cool shade over the cobblestones. Small three-story houses with independent courtyards, each separated by low stone fences, stood proudly along the street. Each gate had a small stone pillar with the house number engraved on it.
Leonard walked to the end of the street. The main gate was closed, but the small door to the side was unlocked. He stepped through, feeling the weight of the moment ahead.
The small door creaked open, as though beckoning him inside.
Leonard pushed it further and stepped into the yard, where a thick carpet of fallen leaves covered the ground. They hadn't been swept in quite some time, leaving the yard feeling abandoned and forgotten.
The main door to the house was also ajar. Leonard entered, feeling the weight of the silence around him.
In the living room, a familiar figure stood with his back turned, cloaked in shadow.
"Teacher," Leonard greeted softly.
Alfonso turned slightly, his voice cool. "It seems you're content with your life now."
Leonard smiled, a touch of irony in his tone. "I have always wanted to find teacher... but i just never knew how."
Alfonso didn't respond to the remark. Instead, he reached into his cloak and pulled out an antique brass ring, placing it carefully on the table before Leonard.
"Teacher, what is this?" Leonard asked, curiosity piqued.
"You'll understand once you take a look," Alfonso replied, his tone nonchalant.
Leonard picked up the ring and, following Alfonso's instructions, poured his mental energy into it. As soon as he did, he felt a shift; a vast emptiness opened up before him. The space was small, no larger than a classroom, but it was enough. This space, unlike the alchemy lab, was far more convenient for storing personal belongings.
Within this strange void, Leonard saw a bookshelf lined with books; fourteen in total. Titles like *Illustrated Book of Lower Undead Creatures*, *Illustrated Book of Lower Natural Creatures*, and *Introduction to the Study of Mutation in the Necromancer Department* filled the shelves. Most were filled with illustrations or theoretical knowledge about mutation studies, but it was a different set of books that caught Leonard's attention.
Four books with black covers and white text. The titles, though written in a language Leonard didn't understand, immediately felt familiar.
*Lesser Fireball*
*Mage's Hand*
*Whip of Thorns*
*Lesser Illusion*
Four spells, each more enticing than the last. He couldn't quite grasp how he understood their meaning, but the moment his eyes scanned them, he knew.
Next, he noticed a gray wizard's robe and a collection of ten dark blue stones; each the size of an eggn glowing faintly with a crystal-like sheen. And beside them, a crystal vial containing a violently boiling red liquid, bubbling as if it were alive.
Leonard's heart raced. He didn't know exactly what this liquid was, but his limited understanding of mutation suggested it was the blood essence of some magical creature; a rare and dangerous gift.
Everything in this small, hidden space was a treasure, something of immeasurable value to Leonard. Yet, despite the excitement, he felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. Such gifts, without explanation, often had a hidden price.
"Teacher," he said hesitantly, his voice tinged with discomfort, "this gift is too much. I can't accept it."
Alfonso's voice was calm, his words carrying the weight of something deeper. "Do you remember what I told you?" he asked, his gaze steady.
Leonard straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Wizards believe in equal exchange."
Alfonso smiled, the thin lines of his face softening. "Exactly. And there's something I need from you in return."
Leonard's unease grew. "What is it, Teacher?"
Alfonso's smile widened. "It's simple. In five months, you'll board a ship at the port. It will take you to an island, where there will be a selection process. This will determine which academy the wizard apprentices will enter."
Leonard remained silent, sensing there was more to the story.
Alfonso's smile turned cold. "And your task? To kill every noble wizard apprentice who boards that ship at Bangor Harbor. All of them, during the selection."
A chill ran down Leonard's spine. The words hit harder than he expected, but as he recalled what Alfonso had said before; the cryptic warning about fate placing a price on all gifts, he understood.
The price of this gift had just become clear.
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