Chapter 878 — The Formless

"I am glad you are willing to hear me rattle on about these matters—I know they are dull, and not your work at all," Windsor smiled, then took half a step back. "I must go on ahead—I have an appointment with Prince Hadrion, and we are to meet in a little over half an hour."

Daniel gave a simple nod. "Mm. Go on, then."

Windsor Maple departed, and Daniel alone remained in the long, empty corridor.

He watched the way his former apprentice had gone, and let out a soft sigh in a voice no one could perceive.

"Windsor... your talent is truly too good..."

Two seconds later, the old mage shook his head and went on slowly forward, his tread steady.

He was not envious, and he had never disliked any of his apprentices.

Only in this moment did the ability Windsor Maple displayed make him feel a trace of "danger."

Yet in the end, he decided to do nothing at all.

Not because Windsor Maple was a legendary mage—in fact, he knew she held no guard against him whatsoever, and with the advantages he held in the shadows, he could quite well have sabotaged the Royal Mage Association's research projects without any direct confrontation, or at the very least greatly hindered and delayed their progress.

It was only that this world held many people of extraordinary talent, and in mighty Typhon there was more than one person like "Windsor Maple." There had been many before, and there would be many after.

The Master had said that He did not mind Typhon's development—He even took pleasure in seeing other mortal nations flourish—for He would Himself ensure that Cecil remained the strongest of all nations.

On that premise, the Master did not advocate that he obstruct most of Typhon's technological progress—for every advance in technology, whether Typhon's or Cecil's, was the common wealth of all mortals.

He had once failed to understand his master's grand vision, merely carrying out orders in that regard like a machine. But after personally taking part in the building of the arcanotechnical industry and witnessing with his own eyes the transformations of Typhon and Cecil alike, he felt he could now faintly grasp what his master meant by a "community of mortals."

He let out a long breath and allowed a faint smile to surface.

Windsor Mabel's talent was her own. As her mentor... he ought to be glad of it.

...

Matilda Augustus sat on the small sofa by the window. Sunlight slanted through the glass, lighting up the crystal ornaments on the table and the "Cecil Cube."

She turned a page, then tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear. Footsteps sounded from not far off, and only then did she lift her eyes from the book and look toward the doorway.

The young Prince Hadron was just stepping into the room.

"Hadron," Matilda nodded. "Aren't you supposed to be meeting with Lady Windsor Mabel about now?"

"In half an hour, sister," Hadron said offhandedly. "What are you reading?"

"A gift that arrived by international post just this morning," Matilda said, lifting the weighty-looking book in her hand and gesturing with a finger toward the table nearby—where a set of hefty volumes lay neatly in a fine wooden case, plainly a grand series indeed. "The Foundations of All Things. This incredible magnum opus is finally complete, and Emperor Cecil sent me a signed set as promised. I'm reading the sociology volume—it's quite enlightening."

"That 'great encyclopedia of natural history' of the Cecilans?" the young Prince Hadron muttered, reaching toward the book case as he sat down across from Matilda. "Speaking of Cecil... don't you think there's more and more of their stuff around lately? Their magazines, their newspapers, and their toys... When I was in the city, I saw some merchants' children playing with runic cubes, shouting 'Cecil Cube' at the top of their lungs. It seems owning a 'Cecil Cube' is a matter of great pride among the children."

"It proves their parents have ample financial means, and that they themselves have ample wit to figure out how the cube works," Matilda said, glancing at Hadron. "Turn the pages carefully—I haven't even opened the one in your hands yet."

Hadron immediately put the Agriculture volume back in the case. "Then I simply won't look."

Matilda's attention, however, had already been drawn to her brother. She looked into Hadron's eyes and asked, as if casually, "Speaking of gifts... it's been over a month since you received the gift I brought you from Cecil, and you still haven't given your verdict on it."

"Ah—good heavens," Hadron's expression turned peculiar at once. He glanced at Matilda with a woebegone look. "Sometimes I really suspect you're deliberately toying with me... Can't you give me some genuine, normal gifts..."

"I consider books the most normal of gifts, especially books rich in knowledge and capable of inspiring," Matilda said at once, her expression turning stern. "Hadron, you have always been slack in your studies—that is why, even with a legendary mage like Lady Windsor Mabel personally teaching you, you are still, to this day..."

"Stop, stop—I broke through to the high rank last month, so your lecturing on that front is useless now," Hadron raised a hand at once, then shook his head. "And I admit books really are decent gifts—but don't you think twelve treatises on mathematics and mechanics plus a hundred and eighty-seven sets of exercise papers is a bit much?"

Matilda looked quietly at her brother. Two seconds later, she nodded with a perfectly grave expression. "That is a specialty of Cecil."

"...That's really terrible," Hadron spread his hands helplessly. "This is exactly why I say there's far too much 'Cecil' around here now..."