The Prince Of Magic

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Hadrian sobered up when he stood in front of the door that leads to his mentor's office, along with Ilsa ahead of him.

Knowing how his mentor disliked not displaying proper manners, Hadrian squared his shoulders and straightened his posture, morphing his face into a calm and neutral expression.

It was a composure befitting of someone with a noble stature, something that his mentor had often drilled into him a few years ago.

As he prepared himself, Ilsa had already knocked gently on the door and opened it slightly so that her head could peek inside.

"Yes?" a female voice asked from the inside.

"You have a visitor, mistress." Ilsa announced.

"Who?" the voice inquired.

"It is the young master."

"Send him in then."

With that order, Ilsa pushed the door wide open and stood to the side, gesturing for him to enter with her hand.

Nodding to her in thanks, Hadrian watched the door closed gently behind before he turned his gaze to the one person in the room.

Like any other study of mages, the room was quite lavish and not lacking in furniture and materials that were commonly favored by first-rank magi. Due to her position in the Clock Tower as one of the two Wizard Marshall, his mentor's office was just as large and spacious as his grandfather's.

His interest in the room wavered as he turned his attention to the far center, where there was a young woman in her mid-twenties sitting behind a large polished desk.

She has an aristocratic countenance, with brown eyes and a long dark brown hair that was tied into a ponytail. Her hair was neatly kept to the right, providing a subtle hint to her simplistic nature when it comes to appearance. She has a light pale complexion, with a height of around one hundred and sixty centimeters (160cm).

Her current attire consisted of a white beige coat with twin tails, a white blouse with a high collar, burgundy riding pants and a pair of knee-length dark brown boots. On her neck was a crimson ribbon that was large enough to cover a small part of her upper front.

If she had been born in a medieval century, his mentor would not look out of place.

But, in a modern era, even Hadrian was forced to admit that his mentor looked a tad eccentric in her choice of attire.

Not that it was his first time seeing her in such an outfit.

Even when he first met her, his mentor's sense of fashion revolves around the clothes she was wearing today: formal, simple, authoritative and efficient.

Her face was set into a calm expression, but her eyes were sharp and piercing as she watched him walk towards her.

"Hadrian." She said by her way of greeting.

"Lehrer." Hadrian returned with a slight nod, slowing into a halt in front of her.

Lorelei Barthomeloi didn't speak for almost a whole minute, simply roving her observant eyes up and down his form.

Hadrian himself didn't move, content in letting her do as she please.

His mentor was not doing anything untoward, but inspecting him instead. She was searching for any signs of injury.

When she was finished, Lorelei nodded to herself in content before meeting his gaze.

"Hmm, it seems you're fine enough." She commented, glancing down to the papers stacked in front of her.

"My ribs are still a bit tender, but I'll be fine after a few days of rest." Hadrian replied.

It was almost the same answer he gave to his grandfather and former mentor.

"When Zelretch informed me of your situation at the Watch, he was bawling his eyes out over the phone as if someone just died." She said idly, almost absentmindedly as if she was talking about the weather instead of her fellow Wizard Marshall acting more eccentric than usual.

The Schweinorg scion winced.

"Err, that's just opa being over dramatic like he always is." Hadrian refuted, laughing nervously at the end.

"More like more than usual, you mean." Lorelei said dryly.

Not knowing what to say, Hadrian shrugged in response.

Lorelei sighed, leaning back into the chair as she interlaced her fingers below her bosom with her forearms supported by the armrests.

The Queen of the Clock Tower stared at her apprentice, musing silently for a few moments before she spoke.

"I heard that you ventured into the Spider's lair. Tell me, what was it like?" Lorelei asked, a curious glint in her eyes.

Hadrian shifted in his position, brows furrowed in thought.

After several heartbeats, he answered.

"Humbling." Hadrian settled on that answer.

And it was truly a humbling experience for him.

While not a boast, Hadrian had went through life-threatening experiences that most people ever rarely encounter. More so in his first life.

He had fought powerful beasts and enemies with exceptional abilities, even solo diving secret dungeons to acquire the royal weapons of the previous kings and queens of Lucis.

He had even battled a few Behemoths on his lonesome before, courtesy of his father's retainer's to train his endurance, resourcefulness, his ability to think under pressure and pain tolerance.

Hadrian was suspicious on what the man meant with the last part, but he let it go since it did helped him get stronger that time.

His recent encounter with the Spider's spawns, however, was a different story altogether.

Not only was it dangerous, it was also an astonishing experience. A real eye-opener, in his opinion.

He was confident in his abilities and experience in combat, but his encounter with the Spider's spawns made him pause and think that there was truly someone above another.

He was prepared that time, ready to activate his Lucian abilities and form a tactical retreat with his retainers after saving Arash. He had even set up the layers of bounded fields, which worked at most and kept most spawns at bay, but when Arash got caught by one spawn, his plan was wrecked and everything almost spiraled out of control.

His retainers, particularly Scáthach and Arturia, were not pleased that he went to save Arash without them at his side.

He had received quite a scolding from the two, and was even punished for it.

Said punishment came in the form of his regular combat training with them recent increase in difficulty. The two women gained a habit of teaming up on him whenever it was time for him to spar with them, which was an exhausting, nightmarish experience for him to endure, to be honest.

Imagine floating crimson spears (altered copies of Gae Bolg) following him almost everywhere with Arturia and Scáthach dogging at his wake every time he tries to evade.

If Hadrian hadn't known their personalities, he would have thought that they were aiming to kill him out of exhaustion and anxiety.

For a few days, his dreams were plague of flying blood-red spears, exploding runes and storm-like winds attacking him in every direction.

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