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The next day, Grania bowed his head as Leon’s group sat across from him.
“Once again, I offer you my deepest thanks.”
Since becoming Archmage, there had been only a handful of times he’d ever lowered his head to anyone. However, to those who had saved his disciple’s life, pride meant nothing.
Adela looked slightly taken aback at the uncharacteristic humility of an old enemy, while the other three accepted the gesture with calm composure. It was, after all, the act of saving someone from the Evil Order’s schemes. Knowing what they knew, they couldn’t have ignored it even if they’d wanted to.
“Please raise your head, Master Grania,” Leon said politely to move the discussion when Grania didn’t do so even after several seconds. “What matters now isn’t the past, but what lies ahead. We need to identify the Evil Order’s agents hiding within the Empire and eliminate them.”
Grania met his gaze, his expression grave as he mused, “Hmm… You’re right about that. However, any information I have is decades old. Since relinquishing the Archmage’s seat, I haven’t set foot in Calelum once.”
Information lived and died by its freshness. Whether it was a minute old, an hour old, a day, or a week, its value could differ a hundredfold. Even so, Leon didn’t falter.
“When you say decades, how long do you exactly mean?”
“I officially retired twenty-five years ago. Resigned my title thirty...
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