Grimoire of Cultivation

Chapter 64: Wine and Wits

Darius presented himself as the dignified elder at the Country Forge entrance. His face, a mask of composure, 'Seems some of the armor's grease found its way onto him.'

Before Darius stood a young knight, visibly enraged, his mid-twenties face framed by neatly combed blonde hair. A grey smudge marred his stylish jacket. "Do your eyes not work? I demand an apology," he snapped. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at his followers with a smug smile, then faced Darius again, looking him up and down. "You'll be compensating for my jacket. Given the quality of your aura, I doubt you can afford it, so why..."

"Please forgive me for interrupting your wonderful performance," Darius interjected smoothly, cutting the young man off as he anticipated the unfolding drama. "However, you might want to check on your friends," he added, pointing innocently. "It seems they've collapsed."

"Huh?" The blonde knight spun his head around, his face twisting in shock at the sight of his two companions sprawled unconscious on the ground, foaming at the mouth. "What the...? Get up, both of you, your embarrassing me." he demanded, his voice a mix of confusion and anger.

As the knight turned his back on Darius, his movements abruptly froze, no matter how he tried, his body strangely refused to listen. Confused and panicked, he thought, 'Why can't I move?!' His lack of experience had left him unprepared for the overwhelming sensation of genuine killing intent.

Darius leaned close, his tone calm and warm, "I'm sorry that you are all alone now, but what were you going to say before I interrupted you?" Allowing a hint of his killing intent to seep into his words.

Sweating profusely, the young knight collapsed to his knees, "Noth...nothing, I wa...was going to say nothing."

Darius patted his shoulder as he walked past, his voice smooth, "Your friends should watch how much they drink if they can't handle their liquor."

As Darius's words lingered, the young knight, free from the paralyzing grip of Darius's killing intent, scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his friends by their collars, dragging them away. As he maneuvered the limp bodies, a mix of shame and anger churned within him. "I'll bring my father back to deal with this," he vowed silently, his breath ragged with exertion and indignation.

Inside the Country Forge, Darius inhaled deeply, a hint of satisfaction in his posture. 'Always isolate the young master first; a lone dog hardly barks. Surprising, though, they passed out from barely a sliver of my killing intent.'

Just as he was about to seek out a table, a young boy in an apron approached with a bright smile. "Dining alone tonight, sir?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Darius responded, scanning the establishment for an ideal spot.

"If you would follow me," the young boy suggested, guiding Darius through the bustling first floor toward an available table.

"I would prefer to dine upstairs," Darius interjected, aware that the upper echelons likely congregated above. Better information often came from those in positions of power.

The boy scrutinized Darius briefly before nodding and guiding him towards the stairs, leading up to the second floor. "Unfortunately, the third floor is reserved for private functions. Is this table to your liking, sir?"

The table was centrally located within the second-floor dining area, "this will do nicely."

As he settled, the boy began detailing the evening's offerings. "Tonight, we feature a selection of cuts from three distinct species of mana-beast..."

Darius listened, finally choosing the Cave-Boar braised ribs. His interest piqued, he then inquired, "And your selection of wines?" His enthusiasm for the wine was a refined taste carried over from his previous life.

"We offer blockberry, rose-grape, and a new selection made from fleet," the waiter listed the options.

At the mention of fleet, Darius's interest visibly peaked. "I'll take the fleet wine. Could you serve the bottle in a jar of hot water?"

The waiter paused, slightly puzzled, but quickly recovered. "Of course, sir," he responded and promptly took the order downstairs.

Darius settled back, his thoughts wandering. 'They actually have fleet wine here! Father always preferred dark ale, never cared much for lighter drinks. I hope this one doesn't disappoint.' Fleet, akin to rice on Gaia, was as commonplace as it was versatile, and Darius was about to savor his first taste of Gaian rice wine.

Satisfied with his order, Darius began to scan his surroundings, the restaurant was packed, with patrons deep in their meals and conversations. He began to focus, dividing the noise so he could hear the details.

"You need to stop nagging mother..."

"This meat is so tender..."

"Can't believe the prices these days..."

"That new apprentice is all thumbs..."

"Lord Brundy."

At the mention of "Lord Brundy," Darius's ears perked up, his interest suddenly sharpening. This was a name he vaguely recognized, 'Brundy...Brundy...wait, wasn't that the name of the mage who administered my knight's test?'

Darius zeroed in on that specific conversation. "...so ostentatious, I mean, when was the last time you saw such horrible colors?"

Two well-dressed women, their luxurious gowns signaling wealth and their auras revealing them as tier 3 earth mages, were seated at a nearby table, whispering to each other. "If I had known he'd return with a bride-to-be, I'd have forced Belle to court him. The foolish girl fought me at every turn."

"Well, honestly, can you blame her? He is a jolly man, but that face even a mother couldn't love."

"Hush! You're terrible, he is such a sweet man. I just hope this new bride doesn't cause him any trouble."

"Speaking of trouble, did you hear, sister? I was told by one of my maids—her husband works for the Brundy estate—but that dreadful brother of his is supposed to be joining the wedding."

"Solomon? I hoped he would never return, that horrible boy, always jealous of his brother, smiling at everything with those hollow, empty eyes."

"Well, hopefully, he has forgotten us. I hear he has advanced to the 4th tier, I would hate to run into him at the wedding..."

Letting go of the women's gossip, Darius leaned back, a shadow of nostalgia and malice crossing his features, 'Solomon Brundy. To think I'd encounter him on the other side of the world. Is this karma?'

As he contemplated his next moves, his thoughts were interrupted by the waiter's approach. "Your fleet wine, sir."

The waiter placed a glass and the wine bottle, nestled in a wooden jar of steaming hot water, on the table.

Darius eyed the bottle, his thoughts honed in on the moment, 'please...please!'

He carefully poured a small glass of the warmed rice wine, watching intently as each drop swirled into the goblet, analyzing its every aspect.

Darius lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured sip. His face gained a slight flush, a soft sigh escaping him as the warmth of the wine spread through his chest. "This is quite good," he murmured appreciatively, though in his heart, he knew it couldn't compare to even the lowest quality of Immortal wine from Penglai.

Yet, the familiar flavor brought a comforting touch of nostalgia, evoking a fleeting memory of sharing wine with his disciple, Wu Chen.

Still lost in the warm embrace of nostalgia, Darius was jolted back to the present by a sudden heavy hand on his shoulder. "Mind if I have a glass?" a voice boomed cheerfully.

Before Darius could respond, the speaker, a tall, slender man appearing to be in his fifties with neatly trimmed blonde hair and a robust mustache, calmly took a seat in front of Darius.

Clad in functional noble attire, the crest of a flaming lion upon his chest, he signaled for the waiter with a confident wave. "Waiter! An extra glass, please."

As if summoned from nowhere, the young waiter materialized with a glass, shooting Darius a swift, apologetic glance before handing it to the man and retreating quickly.

The murmurs of the name "Kinneman" began to ripple through the second floor, pulling the attention of the room toward Darius's table. Darius kept his gaze fixed on the uninvited guest as he pieced together the unfolding scene. "The boy with his two friends...your son?"

After taking a tentative sip, the man abruptly paused, taken aback, then finished his glass in one long gulp. A warm flush spread across his face as he exclaimed, "I've never heard of warming your wine before, but this... this is amazing!"

Observing the stranger's unguarded enthusiasm, Darius thought, 'Interesting fellow. He's exudes confidence, doesn't even see me as a threat.'

The man shook off his distraction about the wine, affirming, "Yes, that was my son."

A quiet pause stretched between them as they assessed each other. Darius eventually broke the silence, "I'm puzzled. You seem like an intelligent man. Are paternal instincts clouding your judgment? Surely, you've already seen the truth of the matter?"

Darius recognized the seasoned quality in the man before him, exuding a hard-earned aura reminiscent of his own father’s, shaped by countless battles for life and death.

Shaking his head with a sigh of regret, the man leaned forward, a flicker of resignation in his eyes. "My son is an idiot, spoiled, a complete fool who never outgrew his mother’s skirts."

Leaning back, the stranger refilled his glass. "I should properly introduce myself before we continue. My name is Sir Marcus Kinneman, and regretfully, since my son carries my name, and you've just thoroughly embarrassed him in public..." He paused to sip from his glass. "I'm sure you can understand the predicament you've placed me in."

Internally grumbling about the all-too-familiar situation, Darius thought, 'Fucking restaurants, taverns, auction houses...' Despite his irritation, he maintained a warm smile and responded, "Would you mind if I finished my meal first?"

"Seeing as it will be your last for a while, I couldn't mind less," Kinneman remarked, his smile tinged with a genuine hint of pity.

Darius tilted his head slightly, his smile cooling into a thin line. "To be honest, I've suddenly lost my appetite. Bad company tends to have that effect. Why don't we step outside for some fresh air?"

Placing a mid-grade mana crystal on the table, Darius rose and made his way toward the stairs.

Kinneman, catching the glimpse of Darius's illusion of a tier 3 fire aura, raised an eyebrow, impressed by his resolve. "Are you certain? There's no need to hurry on my account." As he spoke, his own aura unfurled, vibrant flames swirling around him, revealing his stature as a fourth-tier steel knight.

Darius didn't pause, ignoring the question as he exited the restaurant. The patrons on the lower floor had already hushed, their eyes tracking his movements out the door. 'This wasn't the plan. After this, I'll need to find a different inn and a new disguise.'

From above, laughter filled the air. "I can appreciate a man who gets to the point! So be it!" Marcus's voice carried down as he stood, swiftly making his way to join Darius on the street outside.

Passing by Darius, Kinneman's voice was calm, "Follow me." Without waiting for a reply, he leaped into the air, bounding from one rooftop to another, making his way out of the city.

'He's not even concerned that i might run,' Darius smiled as he adjusted his brooch, amplifying the brightness of his aura. With a surge of energy, he followed closely behind Kinneman, his subdued red aura trailing behind the bright arc of Kinneman's as they darted across the rooftops under the night sky.

Darius's thoughts raced as he followed Marcus. 'I might be in trouble here. I'm confident I can take down a standard steel knight, but this man... it's not going to be easy or quick.' He observed Marcus morph into a full set of leather armor, besides a helmet. 'A scout? Fire-affinity knights are usually lancers, not scouts.'

Reaching the outskirts of the city, they soared over the walls, Marcus landing first only to suddenly let off an explosion of speed, bursting into the distance. 'He's fast!'

Whispering under his breath, "Ethereal Steps." Darius shot forward as he landed, two blazing comets in the dark, one trailing the other.

As they traveled, Darius dispelled the illusion of his clothes, revealing his battle-worn chest piece and gauntlet. 'I'll need to strike hard and fast,' he thought, 'one attack and my disguise is blown.' He tightened his focus, preparing for what was to come. 'You'll just have to blame your son for this.'

Up ahead, Kinneman halted in a large, open field, turning to face him. Darius's thoughts sharpened, 'Sorry, Kinneman, but this won't be very honorable.'

As Darius closed the distance, Marcus stood firm, seemingly poised for a formal duel. 'Perfect,' Darius thought. At fifteen meters, he halted, coiling his mana. 'Solar Tyrant’s Fist,' his thoughts roared, launching a blazing punch through the air.

Instinctively, Marcus reacted. Years of battle had sharpened his reflexes; he raised his arms just in time, his sleek, mana-forged gauntlets and vambraces materializing in a flurry of flames.

Darius’s fiery punch, teleporting in a burst of heat and light, collided with the raised arms the moment they snapped into place, the impact sending a shockwave of energy across the field.

'Shit! That didn't even move him. I can't just rely on fire mana; he'll have the upper hand.' Darius realized, his mind racing.

As Marcus lowered his arms from his face, Darius braced for a furious counter. Instead, he met a gaze filled with confusion, Marcus’s eyes fixed intently on Darius’s chest. 'Did he notice something? Doesn't matter. I need to end this quickly, I’ll bait him into an all-out attack, then counter with the Mystic Water Mirror, and finish him with Breath of the Frost Serpent.'

As Darius advanced, Marcus’s eyes locked onto his chestplate, his tone tinged with suspicion and disbelief. "Who are you? How did you get that armor?"

Just as his question finished, his aura blazed into an explosive pillar of flames, erupting into the sky as his manaforged sabatons and a normal steel-plated leather helm materializing.

Darius recoiled, caught off guard by the fierce eruption of fire billowing towards him. 'Did he say my ar—' His thought was abruptly severed as a chilling shriek sliced through the air. The searing tip of a red-hot rapier thrusting forward, appearing right in front of his face.