Chapter 627 - 534: Mason’s Travelogue: Records of Strange Lands

Chapter 627: Chapter 534: Mason’s Travelogue: Records of Strange Lands

With that said, he also hefted his Shield, lowered his head slightly, and followed them into the stone house.

Ellis watched them go, letting out a helpless sigh. He could only straighten his Mage Robe before following them inside, his expression a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

In the blink of an eye, only the blond young man, Allen, remained in the secluded alley.

He blinked his azure eyes in confusion, glancing from the cloth bag he had yet to deliver to the open doorway, which looked like a portal to another world.

After hesitating for less than a second, he clutched the bag tightly and hurried into the Potion shop.

Meanwhile, Roland had already ventured deep into the Potion shop. The interior was a world away from its plain, almost dilapidated exterior.

The space was more expansive than it appeared from the outside, but almost every inch had been put to use.

The walls were the original gray stone, but they were covered in heavy wooden shelves. These shelves were crammed with containers of all shapes and materials.

There were transparent and cloudy Crystal Bottles, ceramic jars, tin boxes, polished animal horns, and even tubes rolled from some kind of pale golden leaf.

The bottles and jars held colorful substances in all forms. Some of them writhed slowly, some had sediment that glimmered like stardust, and others were perfectly still yet emanated an unsettling aura.

In the center of the room stood a massive, heavily scarred oak workbench. Atop it, in a state of organized chaos, lay a mortar and pestle, a small scale, an alcohol lamp, tweezers, a small silver knife, and many finely calibrated glass vessels and metal tools that Roland couldn’t name.

The tabletop was stained with powders and liquids of various colors. A thick, worn-edged leather notebook lay open, its pages crammed with elegant handwriting and complex sketches of Runes.

The air was filled with a complex mixture of scents.

The distinct, clean fragrance of dried herbs, a slightly pungent mineral odor, the faint scent of magical incense, and a subtle, almost imperceptible tingling sensation reminiscent of ozone.

The main source of light was several oddly shaped Enchanted Lamps suspended above the workbench. They cast a steady and soft, milky-white glow, illuminating the immediate work area.

The corners of the room were lost in Shadow, where one could vaguely make out stacks of dusty chests and Scrolls.

This didn’t feel like a shop open to the public. It was more like the secret chamber of a fanatical scholar or a master artisan, someone completely absorbed in their research. Every single object seemed steeped in knowledge and time.

"S-Sir..."

Vanessa gestured awkwardly, indicating for Roland to sit on a high-backed wooden chair beside the workbench that looked reasonably sturdy.

She cleared her throat, seemingly trying to imitate how she remembered her teacher, Melina, handling visitors. She deliberately lowered her voice, attempting to sound more composed and authoritative.

"As I mentioned earlier, while I understand the theory and the ritual framework for repairing soul damage, I... I have never actually performed one b-before."

"Therefore, I can’t... I cannot guarantee the ritual will succeed. I... I can’t even completely rule out the possibility of certain risks during the process. But..."

She paused, taking a deep breath as if to steel herself, struggling to maintain her composure.

But a faint blush involuntarily appeared on her pale cheeks, and her gaze drifted, not daring to meet Roland’s eyes.

"R-Regardless of the final outcome, successful or not, as the Caster... or, well, as the party attempting to provide the healing service, you will still need to... to pay the fee. Th-that should be..."

By the end of her sentence, the ’professional’ air she had forced herself to adopt deflated like a punctured balloon.

The young Witch couldn’t help but lower her head, her gaze fixed on the tips of her shoes, which were stained with dust and Potion residue. Her voice, thick with embarrassment and uncertainty, was barely a whisper.

"Is... is that alright?"

"Hey, kid!"

Holland, who had just walked in and caught the last part of the conversation, widened his eyes reflexively. He was about to roughly retort to what he saw as a blatant attempt to take advantage of them.

But Roland raised a hand, silently but firmly stopping him. Holland pursed his lips and swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, his face clearly showing his disapproval.

Once Holland had settled down, Roland turned to Vanessa, who still had her head lowered, the tips of her ears tinged with red. He asked calmly,

"So, what fee did you have in mind?"

Vanessa breathed a secret sigh of relief when she saw the big, hot-tempered man being stopped.

She hesitated for a moment, then cautiously raised two slender fingers, pausing in mid-air.

Then, as if she’d been burned, she quickly curled one back in, leaving only her index finger extended. In a weak but clear voice, she said, ℴℴ𝗺

"A-at least... one Golden Crown..."

The moment she quoted the price, Holland, who was standing to the side, rolled his eyes dramatically and snorted.

But restrained by Roland’s earlier gesture, he didn’t shout. Instead, he turned his head and muttered to Ellis beside him in what he presumably thought was a whisper:

"One Golden Crown? Tsk... I’d say Rudolph must have taken a fancy to this little girl, or he’s had his head slammed in a door to agree to this..."

The Potion shop was already quiet, so his "hushed" complaint was as loud as a stone tossed into a still pond.

An even deeper blush instantly flared across Vanessa’s pale cheeks, spreading all the way to her ears. She was so mortified she looked like she wanted to hide under the workbench.

Roland shook his head with a suppressed laugh. He lightly tapped the outside of Holland’s sturdy thigh with the back of his hand, signaling him to be quiet.

Holland sheepishly rubbed his nose and finally fell silent.

"A very fair price."

Roland turned back to Vanessa, his tone betraying no hint of reluctance or mockery.

"So, when can the treatment... or the attempt, begin?"

As he spoke, he turned sideways with a natural motion, reached into the bulging leather pouch at Holland’s waist, and deftly plucked out a single Golden Crown. He then gently placed it on a relatively clean spot on the workbench before him.

The Gold Coin made a soft CLINK as it connected with the oak workbench.

The instant the sound was made, Vanessa’s violet eyes lit up like stars being ignited.

Her previous shyness and embarrassment were instantly replaced by a mixture of surprise, Concentration, and an eager, almost impatient, passion for her research.

She leaned forward almost unconsciously, her gaze locked on the Gold Coin, and nodded emphatically.

"We can start r-right now! Oh, I mean... I need to prepare the necessary materials and the basic ritual space first!"

It was as if she had switched into another mode entirely. She turned and began to rummage rapidly between the workbench—cluttered, yet with its own sense of Order—and the shelves along the wall.

Her slender figure moved nimbly through the narrow gaps between bottles and jars, producing the occasional soft clatter and low mutters as she identified items to herself.

A moment later, she returned carrying a large book, which she carefully placed on a relatively clear corner of the workbench.

The book’s cover was made of thick, dark brown leather that had been specially tanned.

Its edges were frayed and worn, and the four corners were reinforced with brass fittings. In the center, the title was branded in a slightly faded, dark gold pigment.

Roland narrowed his eyes, peering at the cover in the soft, dim light of the Enchanted Lamps.

There, written clearly in an ancient, elegant script, were the words:

Mason’s Travelogue: Records of Strange Lands