Chapter 71

Lannor had no notion of what the academy expected of him, only the icy chill crawling along his spine.

“So much for professional warmth. These coins are cold enough to bite,”” the witcher muttered under his breath. “Too cold. These coins are too cold!”

The massive, unwieldy bag of money swung in his hands, heavy enough to be cumbersome. Each coin was a cold testament to the merciless laws of profit, to the world’s dirty power and authority ... yet there were so many that even muttering to himself, Lannor’s lips twitched into a rare, satisfied grin. The sheer weight of the bag was enough to coax a smile from even a cold-hearted witcher.

Fifteen hundred Orens, half again more than expected for some reason, and yet that was a blessing. Margarita had handed him cash outright, letting him deal directly with the academy’s departments in charge of sale and distribution. Had he taken from the reserves, they would have had to assign someone to monitor and appraise his haul. As it was, handing over coin simplified the bureaucracy.

With ten Orens a day, he bought temporary access to one of Aretuza’s alchemy classrooms. Only a magic academy could command such a price and make it seem reasonable.

“But it’s worth it, sir,” Mentos reminded him, a note of caution in his tone. “Alchemy follows fixed protocols. We can master them quickly, provided we have the correct equipment and environment. Just this convenience alone exceeds the value of ten Orens.”

“I know, I know ... but I’m the one paying. Isn’t it fair I get a say?” Lannor muttered, walking toward the classroom with the Intelligence Core in conversation.