Magus Reborn [Stubbing in Seven Weeks]

volume 6 Chapter 393. Former weaver

Palman woke with his face drenched in sweat and his breath caught somewhere high in his chest.For a few long seconds, he did nothing except stare at the ceiling above him. He blinked once, then again, as if expecting the wooden boards to melt away and reveal the nightmare he had just crawled out of. But the room stayed the same.

Only then did he finally move, reaching toward the waterskin his wife had begun keeping at his bedside every night and refilling every morning without fail.

He grabbed it with unsteady fingers and drank deeply.

Cold water poured down his throat and into him, and Palman felt some of the fear inside his body loosen just enough that he could breathe properly again. It had been months, and still the nightmares refused to leave him.

At first, they had all been about the same thing—about him turning into a mana weaver and tearing through everyone around him, even Count Arzan, now King Arzan, though even in the dream some part of him knew the man could probably kill a weaver half-asleep. But nightmares were never bothered by reason.

Later, they had changed, or maybe only widened.

After his work as a spy during the civil war ended, the dreams had become worse in a different way. More often now, he would find himself trapped inside that castle again, waiting for the explosion, knowing it was coming and still unable to move.

Even awake, he remembered too clearly how close he had come to dying back then. The blast had scorched his back badly enough that he still felt it some mornings, and he had only lived because fellow soldiers found him when they did.

After that, he had been pulled from the rest of the war.

Not that there had been much left for him to do anyway, but even so, the dismissal had felt strange at the time. He had been sent back to Veralt and ordered to rest, and everyone around him had insisted on it even through the coronation, even through all the chaos and changes that followed when Arzan became King Arzan.

That still felt surreal to Palman.

Then again, it had felt surreal to almost everyone who remembered the day the man first entered Veralt as a baron.

Palman shook his head slightly, trying to clear the thoughts away. He raised the waterskin again for another drink, got ready and made his way out of his room soon after.

Just two years ago, his whole family had lived in what was little more than a single room they called home. Now things had changed so much that they occupied different floors of an actual building, and his wife had already started saying that in a few years, their children might end up becoming playmates of the king’s own children.

He still didn’t know whether to laugh at that or believe it.

When he went downstairs, he found her in the kitchen as usual, already making breakfast. She turned at the sound of his steps and smiled.

“You slept well?”

Palman gave a short nod. He had no desire to talk about the nightmare more than he had to.

“Yes. I have a meeting with the Watchers today. I need to leave soon.”

His wife only gave him that same patient smile. “Eat first. I won’t keep you long.”

So he did.

By now, the children were already gone to the new school building for their basic lessons, which meant the house was quiet enough for him to eat in peace. Once he finished, he leaned down, kissed his wife goodbye, and stepped outside.

Before heading off, he paused for a moment and looked back at the house.

It was no longer a house, not really. It was a whole building, nearly the size of a respectable town inn, with a garden behind it and enough space that sometimes even now it didn’t feel fully real to him. If his father were still alive, he would have been proud. That thought stayed with Palman as he turned and started toward the castle in the distance, dressed in his robes and moving at a steady pace.

Along the way, people made space for him.

Commoners stepped aside. Some even bowed. The feeling still sat strangely on him.

Palman was no noble. He was no Enforcer, no Mage, no grand figure from one of the old houses. If anyone asked plainly, he was still just a common soldier.

The Watchers were not even something ordinary people really understood. But stories had spread all the same. In the inns, in the taverns, in the corners where men exaggerated over drink, his part in the civil war had grown bigger and stranger with every retelling.

As a result of all that, Palman had somehow ended up living the complete opposite of what he used to just a few years ago.

Back then, people barely looked at him unless they needed something blocked, carried, or done. Now they gave way for him. They greeted him with respect. Some even looked at him with something close to admiration, and although that still sat strangely on his shoulders, it also pushed him to work harder. He did not want any of it to be empty.

But the closer he got to the castle, the heavier his mood became.

The meeting waiting for him today was not going to be about small things. It was going to be about the plague spreading through more and more parts of the kingdom.

Most of the citizens in Veralt still knew little about it, and in truth they could afford not to. As the new capital, and with Lord Arzan, so many Mages, and so many Enforcers stationed here, Veralt was probably the safest place in the entire kingdom, perhaps even the world.

But Palman was a Watcher.

That meant he did know.

And he knew enough to understand that the plague was no distant problem to be discussed calmly over maps and reports. It was a real threat, the kind that had to be cut out quickly before it rooted itself too deeply.

He had already heard too many stories from the men who had marched into Vanderfall with Lord Arzan during the last purge. Too many of them had come back with faces that looked older than before, and too many of their stories still sat badly in his stomach. If the plague spreading now was anything like that one, then it had to be stopped before it grew worse.

Palman picked up his pace.

By the time he entered the castle grounds, the morning drills were already underway. New recruits and older ones moved across the training fields in different groups, some running laps, others working through formation drills under barked commands. He barely looked at any of them as he headed for the doors leading inside.

Then, he froze when he saw who walked ahead of him.

Just seeing her was enough to make his heartbeat quicken. He had already heard that she had helped Lord Arzan with something important and was now staying in Veralt, but hearing about her and suddenly seeing her in person were two very different things.

The last thing he had heard was that she had been close to death, yet now she looked as healthy as anyone could. If anything, there was more life in her than before. Maybe she felt him staring, because just before she reached the stairs, she turned and looked him over from head to toe.

“Are you heading up there for something?”

For a few seconds, Palman stayed muted.

He didn’t even know how to address her properly. In the end, he only lowered his head a little and said, “Yes, Magus. I’m going to a meeting.”

At that, her eyes seemed to sharpen even more. “One about the plague Arzan is holding?”

Palman nodded. “Yes. Are you going there too?”

That drew a small smile from her. “No. I’m not someone who should be there in the first place, and I’m certainly not invited. You should get moving. The meeting’s probably starting soon.”

He nodded again, still unsure what else to say. Knowing nothing would come out of his mouth, he simply stepped toward the stairs, shifting his path just enough to make sure he didn’t brush against her as he passed. He even started upward as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing. Even then, he felt her gaze on his back until he turned the corner and it finally disappeared.

Why was she here? He didn’t understand.

From what he knew, Lord Arzan had already returned days ago, and whatever help she had offered should have ended with that. Of course, Palman was hardly in a position to tell a Magus to leave the castle, but her presence still made him uneasy. Not so long ago, they had stood on opposite sides, and Veridia had been a supporter of the late first prince.

Palman pushed those thoughts down as best he could.

He focused on reaching the meeting room quickly, and by the time he arrived, most of the seats were already taken.

Most of the important Watchers were already there by the time Palman entered, and not just them. Ansel was present, of course, but so were Princess Amara and nearly every other person in Veralt who mattered in a crisis—Francis, Killian, Feroy, Klan, Jacks, and Claire. Lord Arzan himself was not yet in the room, though Palman doubted that would remain true for long.

He had never seen so many of them gathered in one place before.

For a moment, the room felt almost too full, not in body but in weight, as if each person inside carried enough authority to make the air itself heavier. But then a few heads turned toward him, and some of them gave him small nods of acknowledgment, and that helped more than he expected.

Palman knew he still had not fully gotten used to suddenly mattering this much, but one thing he had always been grateful for was that no one here had ever made him feel out of place. Not even knowing where he came from. Not even knowing his past.

He found a seat beside the rest of the Watchers and settled into it quietly, and only then did the scattered murmurs around the room begin to separate into proper conversations.

To his left, Administrator Francis was speaking with Killian and some of his disciples. Their discussion centered on the new forms of mana weavers and fiends they had started reporting on, and what measures the Enforcers would need to take if they were forced to face them directly as an elite force.

Farther across the room, Princess Amara sat speaking with Claire. Palman had heard not long ago that Claire had been bedridden, and her face still carried some of that weakness, a little too pale even now, but she had come to the meeting anyway.

The two of them seemed to be discussing something unrelated to the plague. Palman only caught one phrase clearly—“earth plane”—before he let his attention drift elsewhere.

He turned instead toward Ansel and the Watchers gathered around him.

From what Palman already knew, Ansel had begun sending teams of Watchers toward the different corruption zones, as people had started calling the plague-ridden areas now.

Since the Watchers were already spread across the kingdom, they were more up to date than most on what was happening inside the corruption zones. Even so, Ansel was insisting that it was no longer enough to stay near the edges.

Right now, most Watchers were avoiding the deeper parts of the zones entirely because they were already busy dealing with fiends and weavers spilling out to attack villages and towns, but Ansel wanted more than surface reports. He wanted people moving deep inside the corruption itself.

Palman understood the reasoning. That didn’t make it easier to hear.

The unease on the faces around him made it clear the others felt the same. Going deep into a corruption zone meant taking on a level of risk none of them wanted to invite if it could be avoided. But Ansel kept pressing.

He argued that with Balen’s armor and the enchanted artifacts given to the field agents, they would be able to manage well enough.

From the way he spoke, Palman could tell Ansel wanted to put the idea before Lord Arzan the moment he arrived, and he was trying to soften the room to it beforehand.

It was not going especially well.

Only Arel, who was arguably the strongest of their field agents, looked as though he truly agreed with Ansel.

Palman himself was not entirely against the idea.

A part of him wanted nothing to do with dead mana ever again. That was the simple truth. He had already lost himself to it once, and that memory still sat too close beneath his skin. But at the same time, that was exactly why another part of him felt he could go back into it if needed.

He had already found a way back to himself once. If it happened again, maybe he could do it again—with Lord Arzan’s help, if it came to that.

And besides, he knew now that there were other answers too.

Lord Arzan had somehow managed to purge Vanderfall clean of corruption. Palman still did not know how, not fully, and he doubted many others did either, but the fact that it had happened at all gave him hope.

As Palman sat there thinking it through, wondering whether he should speak up and tell Ansel that he did not mind entering a corruption zone if it came to that, the entire room suddenly went quiet.

For a second, he was confused.

Then he saw everyone’s attention shift toward the door.

Palman turned as well, and the moment he saw who stood there, he rose quickly and bowed. The others did the same. Lord Arzan had entered the room, with Magus Elias at his side.

Palman had seen the older man around the castle several times over the past few days, and from the way the two of them looked now, it was clear they had been in the middle of some conversation before arriving here and had only stopped speaking once they stepped inside.

Lord Arzan looked over the room once before saying, “Sit.”

At once, everyone obeyed.

Those with chairs sat down immediately, while the few who had not managed to find seats remained standing where they were. A meeting on this scale simply had not happened before, and there had not been enough room prepared for so many people. As the last of them settled, one soldier moved to close the doors, and another Mage quietly formed a spell structure that sealed the room against sound, making sure no part of what was said here would travel outside.

Even then, no one’s attention strayed.

All eyes stayed on Lord Arzan.

He took the papers Ansel and Francis had prepared and read through some of them in silence. But after only a short while, he set them back down and glanced instead toward Elias, who had taken a seat to his left. Something passed between the two of them in that brief look, the sort of silent exchange that made Palman wonder what exactly they had discussed before entering.

Before he could think too much about it, Lord Arzan began to speak.

“First, I thank all of you for coming today to discuss the state of our kingdom and the plague spreading through it.”

His voice was calm, but something in it kept the whole room still.

Then he gave Elias one more brief glance. “However, just this morning I was informed of something else that needs to become part of this discussion, since all of you are already here.”

Palman felt the room tighten slightly at that.

“Vanderfall has entered another crisis. The king and the crown prince are dead. As a result, the remaining princes have already begun clashing, and it will not be long before that turns into a full civil war,” Lord Arzan said calmly. “We need to do something about it.”

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