Turaman’s half-closed eyes slightly widened: "So you recognize me?"
"Of course," Brand answered straightforwardly, "The master of the Secret Silver Castle, the silver leader of the Twelve-Circle Magic Society, Lord Turaman, how could I not know you."
Upon hearing this, Frey was fine, but Batom’s hat fell to the ground without him realizing it. He didn’t know who the silver leader of the Twelve-Circle Magic Society was, but the master of the Secret Silver Castle was a famed wizard. There’s a well-known legend in the mercenary world, about a group of half-mercenary, half-thief scum who targeted the legendary ’hall made of Mithril’. They sent four to five hundred people and two Ogres, but in the end, they were all turned into stone.
These statues still stand on the desolate beach of the Desolate Sea, for passing travelers to see.
And now the legendary figure was standing right in front of Batom, how could he not be shocked? What shocked him even more was that Brand was still smiling and chatting with him, as if trying to make a connection. Had his lord gone insane?
But the red-bearded mercenary leader was even more incredulous at what happened next—
Turaman, upon hearing Brand’s words, paused and began to reassess the young man. He looked him up and down, as if trying to recall if he had ever seen him before, then asked: "Young man, it seems you came prepared. But who are you? I don’t remember someone like you. Whose son are you?"
Brand glanced at Romantic. He hadn’t expected Turaman to know Romantic’s aunt, which made their connection somewhat suspicious. It seemed like Little Roman’s aunt was not a simple figure—at least, she must have been a famous witch.
But there were only a few famous witches in history. Could she be the legendary Witch of the Blue, who abandoned the position of Queen of Witches, left the Winter Country of Iberia, and came to the mortal world?
He buried this suspicion in his heart and shook his head in response to Turaman’s question: "I am not anyone’s descendant, but I came here with a question."
"A question?" Turaman was startled.
Brand moved his lips and articulated: "Stam—"
The old man was taken aback, initially as if he recognized something. But then he frowned: "What does that mean?"
Brand was stunned. He had recited the original text from the Cruz people’s creation epic, the Poem of the Blue, which in his time was the source of the mage wars and conflicts among wizards. How could Turaman not have heard of it? He was momentarily shocked, breaking into a cold sweat. Was it possible that there were no ’Earth Tablets’ in this world?
But the young man quickly realized that perhaps it was too early in the timeline, and the Earth Tablets had not been discovered yet. In the Amber Sword, Madara’s rise was merely a historical branch, though it deeply affected Erune and surrounding countries. The true main plot of that world was the appearance of the Earth Tablets.
The eruption of the Wizard War—
Of course, Brand didn’t intend to bring the Earth Tablets into this world so soon. He only wanted to use one word from them to pique Turaman’s interest.
Even though a single word might seem insignificant in the full context, the magic contained in those creation words should be fundamentally the same. He believed Turaman would recognize the mystery within.
He looked at Turaman and replied, "Old man, have you heard of the holy song describing the creation of heaven and earth, the Cruz people’s Poem of the Blue?"
Turaman placed a hand on his beard. He indeed felt an ancient and primordial magic within the word. Though it wasn’t strong, it seemed to be the source of all current magic. He initially thought it was an ancient dialect of Dragon Language, or a variant of Rune Language or Wizard Language, but after searching through his memory, he found nothing.
Turaman didn’t doubt the young man would deceive him. To be honest, as a scholar who had devoted a hundred years to books and practice, anyone who could deceive him would at least have his admiration.
"You’re talking about the so-called first epic, earlier than the Elf Hymn, which the Cruz people boast about?" the old man asked.
Brand knew about the Silver People’s prejudice against humanity. Although Bujia’s wizards were human, they were not entirely human. Their noble bloodline looked down upon the people of the earth, but the long history of the Cruz people was something these Silver people envied and refused to acknowledge.
As a player, he didn’t care about this and simply nodded.
"What does that have to do with the ’word’ you just mentioned?" Turaman paused and asked.
By this point, their discussion had already surpassed the limits that Frey, Batom, and Romantic could comprehend. The three of them were long lost in confusion. Frey could only enlarge Brand’s image in her mind, while Batom was stunned beyond measure—
Only God knew, Brand himself was merely bluffing.
"That is the original text of the Poem of the Blue, describing how our world was created by Martha’s goodwill, Lord Turaman. I didn’t lie—you should be able to sense the magic contained in that syllable yourself," Brand replied.
Turaman’s expression changed and he turned back into the house. Soon, the sound of flipping books came from the wooden hut.
At this moment, Brand knew his plan had halfway succeeded. He turned around and gestured to Frey and the others to follow him, then led them into Turaman’s house—
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My stomach is a bit sore tonight. I’ll continue with 4500 words first, sigh. (To be continued. To know what happens next, please visit www.qidian.com. More Chapters available. Support the author, support genuine reading!)