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Chapter 45
Chapter 45. Potato Jesus
Fick sat to the right of one of the registration teachers. The triangular fieldwork chief’s brooch on his chest attracted quite a few gazes. He tilted his chair back slightly, propped both legs on the table, and narrowed his eyes as he watched the stream of people.
The registration teacher was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a round face and eyes that narrowed into slits when he smiled.
When he saw Fick sit down, a smile immediately filled his face. He pushed a stack of papers and a pen in front of Fick.
“Mr. Fick, have you come to help as well?” His voice was very warm.
Е n̈ uṁa
Fick took the pen and casually helped out while saying that he was looking for an assistant. The teacher flipped through the roster in his hands while chatting with Fick.
“I was sent over from North Saphile,” he said. “Serving the royal family means we are all one family. Since you are with East Saphile, the northeast is all kin.”
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The teacher continued flipping through the roster, his gaze sweeping over the boys and girls in line. He judged people very quickly. One glance, then either a nod or a shake of the head.
“This one will not do. Too thin.”
“This one’s eyes have no spirit.”
“This one is covered in fleas. Stay away.”
Е ñ.um̆а̃
Those who were singled out lowered their heads and left, while the people behind them moved one step forward.
Fick waved a hand. A guard standing at the side raised his voice and shouted, “According to precedent, the fieldwork chief will be selecting an assistant today. If the selected candidate performs well during the work period, they may be internally recommended for admission!”
The moment those words fell, the crowd stirred. The examinees who had failed had originally been walking away with lowered heads, but when they heard this, their steps stopped. Some lifted their heads, and light returned to their eyes. Some began squeezing this way. One, two, three... very soon, a circle of people gathered around them.
There were youths in shabby leather armor, girls with tearstains still on their faces, and peasant children who had been squatting in the corner without leaving. All their eyes were fixed on Fick, on the stack of papers in his hand, and on the brooch on his chest.
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The teacher glanced at those people and frowned. He turned his head and said to the Royal Knight beside him, “We royal people are chatting. Make these lowborn rabble line up properly.”
The Royal Knight nodded. He took out a small black crystal from his waist, placed it in his mouth, and the pattern on his neck lit up instantly.
Ěn ǔ m̆ а̄.і d
He raised the long spear in his hand, pointing the spearhead toward the sky. A thin bolt of lightning shot up from the spearhead with a crackle, then clung to the spearhead, hissing with blue light.
The knight did not speak. He simply held up the spear and looked at those people.
The crowd took a step back. The blue light on the spearhead flashed again and again, reflecting on their faces and illuminating their expressions clearly. Some were filled with envy for this ability to command the supernatural, some widened their eyes, some turned pale, and some already had trembling legs.
Fick pointed at the still-flickering lightning on the spearhead with his quill pen. “Is it not a little wasteful to use a Magic Crystal for this?”
The knight turned his head, and the blue light on the spearhead swayed. “Please understand, my lord.” His voice was trembling slightly. It was obvious that controlling the lightning magic pattern was not easy for him. “North Saphile has never tolerated commoners infringing upon royal dignity.”
The teacher chimed in from the side as well. “Lord Fick, you may not understand, but there are many unruly commoners on our North Saphile side. Only this makes them easier to manage.”
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The crowd had already retreated to two zhang away. No one dared take another step forward. Some lowered their heads, some turned away, and some stood where they were, staring motionlessly at the spearhead still glowing with blue light.
He smiled, the flesh on his face piling up as his eyes narrowed into slits again. “These are all rules set by those above.”
The lightning on the spearhead gradually weakened, finally turning into a few sparks and scattering.
Fick placed the paper in his hand on the table.
Damn it. You only know a bit of magic, yet look at how much you are showing off.
Knights could use magic like witches, but only on the condition that they reached the level of an upper C-rank knight. Even then, they could barely control one type of magic, and they had to use crystal needles made from Magic Crystals to draw circuits on their bodies. Only by holding a Magic Crystal in their mouths could they use magic.
Еn̊ û ṁа̃.i d
Royal Knights all tattooed lightning chains on themselves to worship the God of Lightning and Eagles. This allowed them to draw upon lightning magic to increase the destructive power of their weapons, and it could also be used to speed up marching.
Normally, one standard thumb-sized Black Crystal worth 50 silver would be consumed in an hour. This Royal Knight before him had used his ability just to show off, which was purely an act of burning money. It was probably also meant to give the other students a good impression that North Saphile did not lack money.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
But showing off was one thing. Now that he had scared everyone away, how was Fick supposed to recruit an assistant? Was he deliberately here to disgust him?
Fick feigned helplessness. “Fine. I understand the rules, but I also ask that the two of you not interfere with my work. I am only looking for an ordinary failed examinee to help me with some tasks. I am not here to steal quality students.”
The teacher nodded and smiled again. “Lord Fick is truly reasonable. If you ever find yourself unable to make it in East Saphile, you may come seek refuge with us. I will personally introduce you.”
Fick leaned against the back of his chair and narrowed his eyes as he looked at those people. They stood in the distance. They had not left, but they did not come forward again either. Some were still looking this way, and the small flames in their eyes flickered faintly, like the lightning on the spearhead just now.
W e b̆ nо̊v ĕl̀ Е ñ um̆ а
They no longer dare come up. Fine, then. I do not care about identity, age, or background. Whoever comes forward first, I will take them.
Just then, there was a commotion at the back of the crowd.
“Make way, make way—roasted potatoes! Hot roasted potatoes!”
A thin, withered figure squeezed out from between the gaps in the crowd, pushing an old handcart. An iron stove was mounted on the cart, and several rings of potatoes sat on top of it, roasted golden brown and steaming.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The old man was short and hunchbacked. He wore a coarse cloth jacket covered in patches, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing two sun-darkened arms. As he pushed the cart, he called out his wares, completely failing to notice that everyone around him was backing away.
“Roasted potatoes! Fresh from the stove—ow!”
Е̃n̈ u̇ ṁ ӓ . і d̊
Before he could finish speaking, someone beside him bumped into him, and he staggered forward several steps. The handcart swayed crookedly along with him and nearly overturned.
When he steadied himself, he realized he was already standing at the very front, directly facing Fick’s table.
The old man froze, still holding half a potato in his hand.
The surroundings were deathly silent. The people who had retreated two zhang away, the trembling commoners, and the failed boys and girls were all looking at this old man who did not know whether he was courting death.
The old man also sensed that something was wrong. He looked left and right, then looked at the spearhead in front of him.
The old man was probably in his sixties. His face was covered in wrinkles, his hair was sparse, two of his teeth were missing, and air leaked from his mouth when he smiled. His eyes were cloudy and muddled.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Fick suddenly set his chair forward and stood.
“You will do.” He pointed at the old man.
The potato in the old man’s hand nearly fell to the ground.
“What is your name?”
The old man opened his mouth. “...Roasted Potato.”
“I mean your name.”
Wёb n̄.о́v е l̂ Ĕ_n̆u m̂ā
“Jesus.”
Damn it, old man. How hard must your life be to dare share a name with God’s son?
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Oh, right. This world did not have God, and that Cross God had no name either.
Fick kept his expression steady. “Uncle, what is your surname?”
“I do not have one,” the old man said. “I used to be a slave. Later, I spent money to become a commoner.”
Fick nodded. The old man still had not reacted and continued, “Do you want to buy roasted potatoes? Mine just came out of the stove. They are hot—”
W̄ ẽb̆ n о̀ v̇ e l E nů m̆ ӓ
“Uncle Jesus, you are the assistant I am looking for.”
“Huh? Me?”
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