Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 355: Cemetery Abnormality

Winter arrived silently, like an uninvited guest, knocking on the gates of the Roland Empire's southern border with a biting chill. This land, always warm and humid, was now experiencing a cold snap unseen in a thousand years. It began as a steady drizzle, fine as cow hair, which gradually condensed in the biting north wind, transforming into countless tiny ice crystals that clattered against the eaves. Gradually, the icy rain intensified, eventually transforming into a blanket of heavy snow. The falling flakes resembled feathers shaken by a god, instantly dyeing the entire south a silvery white. Even the most venerable elders shook their heads, sighing, "Never have I seen anything like it."

Although Fire Maple City had received a cold snap warning from the Northern Tower half a month earlier, even the most far-sighted archons hadn't anticipated its ferocity. The howling north winds carried heavy snowfall. In just three days, the snow on the main streets of the imperial capital piled higher than the pauldrons of the city gate guards. At dawn on the sixth day, the relentless blizzard finally subsided. The long-awaited sunlight penetrated the leaden clouds, casting the slender shadow of the imperial palace's spire across the snow.

This premature arrival of winter has disrupted all calendar calculations. According to observations by the Royal Mages, this year's winter will last at least forty to fifty days longer than usual. Inside the meeting hall, the charcoal fire in the bronze brazier crackled as twelve important ministers gathered around a long table covered with maps. The Finance Minister had just presented a shocking statistic—with the current stockpile of firewood, the city's civilians might not survive even half the winter.

"Cut down all the miscellaneous trees in the noble territories around Fire Maple City." Duke Solomon stood up with the help of his lion-head cane, his frosty white temples gleaming in the candlelight. "The forest in the Dukedom of Barton, which is under the trusteeship of the House of Nobles..." The old noble tapped the northern part of the map with his ruby-encrusted scepter. "The spruce there is enough to warm half of Fire Maple City, but felling and transportation are a big problem..." He frowned and looked at the official road buried in snow outside the window.

Suddenly, the soft clatter of armor could be heard from the shadows. The previously silent spy chief took a half-step forward, his leather mask reflecting a cold light. "The fire maple trees are cold-resistant, but the oak forests surrounding the imperial capital..." His hoarse voice was like a blunt knife scraping across stone slabs. "They'll all freeze to death in three days. It's not too cold when it snows, but only when the weather clears will we have a bone-chilling cold!"

"Carlos is right!" Duke Solomon suddenly clapped his hands and laughed, and his scarlet sable cloak raised a gust of fragrant wind when he turned around. "Your Majesty, why don't you start with the royal forest garden? Let the common people of Fire Maple City see that their king is willing to take even the precious trees in the garden..." The old fox stopped talking at the right time, letting his unfinished words echo under the gilded dome.

The old emperor on the throne suddenly began to cough violently, and his attendants hurriedly handed him a handkerchief. After his breathing subsided, everyone noticed that the monarch was unusually wearing a crimson robe, the same color as Solomon's.

"That's right!"

The emperor's skinny fingers stroked the sapphire ring, and he suddenly looked up at the commander of the secret guards: "Carlos, if any noble dares to secretly hide Lin Mu..." The old man laughed softly, "You know what to do."

The Speaker of the House of Nobles dropped the parchment scroll in his hand. He was startled by the old emperor's order, but after thinking it over, he understood. History has recorded several severe cold snaps, each of which killed thousands of civilians, and some nobles were the hidden driving force behind these events.

"Your Majesty, Duke Solomon, why are you all wearing red robes today?"

The Speaker pushed his gold-rimmed glasses, a flicker of surprise in his cloudy eyes. The old emperor had always favored the ornate robe embroidered with golden fleur-de-lis, and Duke Solomon, as the empire's chief noble, was supposed to wear formal black and gold attire according to etiquette. Yet, both men were wearing plain red robes, devoid of even the most basic gold piping.

"Old Carlos wore it too, but he wore it underneath his leather armor." The old emperor suddenly stood up like a child with a new toy, his wrinkled face beaming with pride. The wrinkled red robe unfurled with his movements, gleaming in the candlelight like flowing fire, as if lava swirled deep within the fabric. "This is a rare treasure. Wearing it won't even faze the blizzards of the North!"

The Speaker unconsciously wrapped his mink cloak tighter around him. Though the fireplace in the meeting room burned brightly, the cold snap from the far north still caused a dull ache in his aged bones. "Solomon, where did you get this... this material?" His voice was thick with undisguised anxiety, his bony fingers unconsciously rubbing the armrests of his chair.

The Duke lifted the corner of his robe to reveal the lining, revealing a dark red leather covered in fine, scaly patterns. "This is fire salamander hide. My men brought it back from the southern part of the empire!" He lowered his voice, as if revealing a hidden secret. "As for those salamander hides..." He curled his lips in disdain. "Their hides are tough enough to serve as shields, but they're useless except for armor."

"Solomon, your people may be able to hunt fire lizards, but to be able to hunt fire salamanders... I find it hard to believe..."

Fire salamanders rarely leave their lava rivers and nests, and are rarely found in the southern continent. Unlike salamanders, they move around lava rivers.

"This is a gift from someone else... I never said it was hunted by my hunters." The elderly Duke Solomon stroked the nearly two-foot-long, fiery red scale in his hand, deep wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Carlos was lucky, too! Not only did he get five complete ground dragon scales, but he also got a sharp claw!"

The Speaker of the House of Lords raised a graying eyebrow at this. This old man, descended from a royal family, had long since lost interest in gold, silver, and treasures, but at the mention of the words "earth-walking dragon," a flicker of longing shone in his cloudy eyes. He tapped his gilded cane gently, his gaze drifting involuntarily to the painting of a ground-walking dragon hanging above the fireplace.

The idle chatter among the nobles quickly came to an end. On the streets of Fire Maple City, civilians wrapped in threadbare cotton jackets huddled in the cold wind, eagerly awaiting firewood for the winter. Even the most powerful figures in the empire dared not delay matters so crucial to the people's livelihood.

When the golden seal of the royal proclamation appeared on the bulletin board in the central square of the imperial capital, the once gloomy atmosphere of Fire Maple City instantly erupted in excitement. The notice clearly stated: All oak trees in the royal gardens are open to the public, requiring only that they be felled on their own. Even more surprising was the generosity of the imperial capital's nobles, who not only provided large quantities of miscellaneous wood but also donated oak trees from their private forests for heating purposes.

In the Fire Maple City administration hall, the governor was frantically busy. His desk was piled high with thick rosters, and clerks were bustling back and forth, recording the names of the civilians who had participated in the logging. In the courtyard, weighers shouted out figures: "Norton family, 160 pounds!" "Wilson family, 195 pounds!" On the outskirts of the city, workers were distributing the remaining timber to each household, ensuring that every family had enough to survive this harsh winter.

In just seven days, tens of thousands of civilians flooded into the royal forest, completely clearing out this once-forbidden area. Armed with crude axes and saws, they cleared the entire forest like a swarm of locusts. Three days later, when the trees "generously donated" by the nobles had also been removed, the civilians turned their attention to the Duchy of Barton—which had also promised free heating wood.

However, when they actually set foot in this ancient forest, the sight before them daunted everyone. Giant spruce trees, over a thousand years old, towered majestically, their trunks reaching five or six meters thick like pillars reaching the sky. The simple tools in the hands of ordinary people seemed ridiculous in the face of these behemoths. Even more terrifying was the fact that if these giant trees, reaching forty or fifty meters in height, fell, they could very well turn the entire forest into a death trap—no one could predict where these towering trees would crash down.

Fortunately, the heavy snowfall provided an alternative. Snow-laden branches scattered across the forest, some even thicker than an adult's waist. These oil-rich spruce branches made excellent fuel in the cold winter, burning to produce a long-lasting, warm heat. Eventually, the villagers gave up on felling the entire ancient tree and instead focused on collecting these natural branches.

But a deeper reverence prevented them from desecrating this sacred woodland. For it was here that the legendary Valkyrie Vivian Barton rested, her mausoleum hidden within this spruce forest. This Duchess, who had protected the Roland Empire for over two thousand years, held a position in the hearts of the people that surpassed that of past emperors. Even in the coldest winter, people dared not disturb the eternal slumber of this eternal guardian.

From the depths of the Duchess's vast mausoleum, a strange purple glow emanated, a recurrence of the disaster that had struck over thirty years earlier. This strange phenomenon was quickly noticed by nearby civilians, and horrified rumors spread like wildfire. When word reached the highest echelons of the Empire, the Empire's eagle-eyes were immediately deployed. Heavily armed agents brutally dispersed the crowds surrounding the mausoleum and established a cordon for several miles.

Carlos, the head of the Imperial Secret Service, slowly descended from the sleigh. His jet-black leather armor gleamed coldly in the snow, his crimson cape rustling in the chill wind. His boots crunched on the hard snow as he walked down the mottled, ancient stone steps, leading deeper into the cemetery. The elite agents accompanying him, armed with magic detectors, scanned the surroundings vigilantly.

The cemetery was vast, its low walls nearly buried beneath the snow. Yet, strangely, not a single snowflake fell around the central altar, as if some invisible force were defying the laws of nature. The unsettling purple light seeped from beneath the altar, and the entrance to the Duchess's tomb lay hidden behind several statues.

"Quinn," Carlos called out without turning back, his voice colder than the winter wind, "Use your magical tentacles to explore and find out what's going on!"

The tall, thin old man standing behind him heard this and, leaning on his staff, he approached the stone platform step by step, stopping five meters away. The stone platform was an invisible forbidden zone; anyone who stepped on it would die.

Old Quinn slowly extended his bony hand from his heavy fur robe. Strands of pale blue magic, like living creatures, emanated from his fingertips, silently spreading toward the seamless ancient stone path. As the first strands of magic touched the eerie purple light seeping from between the stone platforms, the tentacles suddenly snapped as if severed by a sharp blade. The old wizard's wrinkled face instantly drained of color, and even his graying beard trembled slightly.

"Carlos!" His voice was filled with rare panic. "This damn purple light is cutting off my magic! It's like... like living blades." He withdrew his hand suddenly, as if the stone platform might bite him. "It's enough to leave these two unfortunate guys here for show. The Duchess's resting place is more dangerous than a scorpion's nest. Anyone seeking death can try it."

The spy chief casually stroked the dagger at his waist and winked at a nearby location. His confidants immediately understood and retreated into the darkness—they all knew that this mausoleum was more deadly than the boiling lava lakes of the southern continent. The bones once piled here were thicker than the snow in Fire Maple City in winter.

Meanwhile, amidst the howling north wind, eerie rumors about the Duchess's tomb quietly circulated among taverns and markets. Unfortunately, the biting cold, like a natural barrier, forever froze these horrifying stories within the confines of Fire Maple City.

As the last of the snowstorm quietly retreated, a strange sight unfolded across Roland Continent: while the north remained frozen, the southern mountains and plains were already bursting with fresh green. Joanna was busy loading the carriage with luggage, while Caesars counted the mountain of cargo—bundles of salamanders, gleaming monster fangs, and several barrels of monster blood. The fat dog that always crept at his feet was now only the size of a boot, but Caesars knew that once this glutton returned to its true form, it would devour hundreds of pounds of food a day.

The affairs of the territory had long been neatly managed by the butler and the head maid, requiring no further attention from him. The threat from across the Emerald River had also been completely eliminated by his earlier swift and decisive actions, and that area was now as quiet as a dead place. As for the monastery—a holy place once home to many ascetics—after his bloody purges, even the last few stubborn ones had fled, leaving only the empty stone buildings whimpering in the wind. Caesars stroked his chin, pondering that in order to collect soul energy, he would probably have to turn his attention to the churches scattered throughout the Kingdom of Saint Laurent.

"Shut up, you idiot! Are you really that excited about going to Fire Maple City?"

Ever since the dog, as fat as a fur ball, heard they were going to Fire Maple City, it had been jumping up and down in the castle since dawn, howling non-stop for a full half hour. It wasn't until it pulled an empty pastry box with a gold-stamped pattern from its storage ring that Caesars suddenly realized what was going on—it was a special pastry box made by the Cavill family, with a little icing on the edge.

"What a greedy fat dog!" Caesars cursed with laughter, reaching out to grab the fat dog's trembling ears. "So you're thinking about the snacks in Fire Maple City! You poor dog, do you have even a single gold coin on you?"

A chubby, fat dog reared awkwardly in the slow-moving carriage, resembling a wine glass of equal thickness at the top and bottom. It waved its front paws with a flourish, its storage ring gleaming in the sunlight. From the ring, it pulled out several fine gems: rubies like congealed blood, sapphires like the eye of the deep sea. Its paws clinked the gems, and the fat dog's mouth widened in a smug grin, even its stubby tail raised.

"I knew you had hidden something valuable. Hurry up and let me check your storage ring!"