Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 430: Similar Goals II

Chapter 430: Similar Goals II

"Not surprising," Daphne said. "He once offered the Seiberts magic and power in exchange for their help in the black market. However, it didn’t seem like he had perfected it back then."

"That was a small scale," Nereus said. "According to the documents sent over by Prince Nathaniel, Jean Nott might be creating magic for himself at a way larger scale than just an element or two. At the current rate he is going, he might’ve given himself more than one affinity when he could’ve started out with little to none."

Daphne pursed her lips tightly shut, at a loss for words. She knew all too well that Prince Nathaniel himself had been experimenting and attempting to give himself greater magic so that he could be a better ruler for Raxuvia. With his current magical abilities, he was considered too weak to be the heir of a kingdom.

Thus, if it were information regarding trying to advance their own magical skill set, Daphne trusted Prince Nathaniel’s judgment. After all, she had witnessed Jean Nott performing more extravagant spells with each new time they met. It wasn’t too hard to believe that his experiments worked.

"But this doesn’t make any sense," Daphne said, shaking her head. "Atticus has no need to do such things. His magical affinity could be said as the most powerful in this world. He doesn’t need to increase his own affinity if he could even!"

Atticus was already able to do what no others could― command magic without the use of crystals. Daphne had witnessed it too many times, and the first time was all the way back in Raxuvia before all of this even happened.

Why would Atticus need to find a way to increase magical affinity when he could already do all that? He commanded magic with so much fluency as well; it was clear that it wasn’t his first rodeo. He had done this more than enough times.

"What if... he’s doing it for someone else?" Nereus asked. His eyebrows were knitted tightly together, lips pursed together the moment he stopped speaking. He looked at Daphne carefully, almost as though he was afraid of even breathing too loudly.

"For someone else?" Daphne echoed. "For who?"

She tapped a finger to her chin as she continued to ponder out loud.

"It can’t be Sirona," she said. "She is highly adept at healing magic and she doesn’t seem to bother too much with fighting to need other forms of magic. It would be helpful, but it certainly wasn’t important enough to risk everything for. Atticus would not help her attain it too, since the reasons aren’t strong enough."

Nereus’s face only looked more and more grim.

"As for Jonah..." Daphne trailed off. "He is weak with magic but he is highly skilled with all sorts of weapons, especially a sword. He doesn’t turn to magic nor does he seem to care too much for it. In fact, the impression I got from him was that he hated magic to an extent."

"Could it be..." Nereus started, hesitating when Daphne spun around to face him. "Could the reason behind why he’s so desperately farming for these materials be that he wishes to help someone else?" Nereus said. "For example, you?"

***

Atticus ducked just as a gob of spit left the camel’s mouth, narrowly missing his right eye by just an inch. He cackled, sticking his tongue out childishly at the animal before he skipped over to where Jonah stood.

"How’s the progress?" he asked, his steps light and bubbly as he turned back to give the camel a mocking roll of his eyes.

"Do you find this amusing?" Jonah asked with a deadpan. "To mock a literal animal?"

"You wouldn’t be saying that if your camel spat in your face again," Atticus said with a huff.

"Never," Jonah retorted. "Betsy and I are best friends now. She would never do that to me. We’re long past that."

"And you called me the childish one," Atticus said with a roll of his eyes.

"I implied it," Jonah corrected. "Two very different things."

"Whatever." Atticus waved his hand, batting the topic away. "How’s the excavation?"

"Surprisingly fast," Jonah replied, gesturing to the carts full of dark ore a short distance away from them. "We’ve nearly gotten enough to make a full batch of potions for Prince Silas. It should be able to completely heal him of vampirism and give him a second chance at life. Prince Alistair, on the other hand..."

"Make sure you dig up enough," Atticus instructed. "I want him healed before he is killed for his crimes. He’s been a thorn in my side for far too long and his immortal state is a nuisance. He’s just wasting a perfectly good cell in Reaweth’s dungeons."

"King Cyrus might have different plans for his son once he’s cured," Jonah pointed out. "War criminal or not, he was the crown prince and is still the firstborn of that old-timer. If anything, he might just keep him locked up forever."

"And have him escape and attempt to foil our plans?" Atticus said with a scoff, keeping his voice low. He kept a wary eye on King Calarian, watching as the older man gave out instructions to some of the mining staff on where else to locate bigger deposits for easier mining. "I’d rather save myself the trouble in the future."

"That might not be for you to decide," Jonah said.

"Of course it will be," Atticus returned. "They’ll have no choice but to yield. Prince Alistair is a knock-off and all of that will come to light soon."

His steely gaze rested on the black ore, then down at Jonah’s hands, where he held out a small amount that was wrapped neatly in a silk handkerchief. Carefully, Atticus picked up the iron meteorite, feeling the buzz run through his fingers and colliding with the energy of his magic even though Atticus had yet to use any.

"We’re almost done with our collection," Atticus said, examining the small, seemingly useless piece of rock. It looked just like a slab of coal, ordinary and plain; who knew it was actually as destructive as it came?

"Good," Jonah said, "because I have some bad news now that we’re done talking about the good news."

"I didn’t know there was bad news," Atticus murmured, frowning.

"You might think it’s good too, who knows?" Jonah said with a shrug. "Either way, my men have located Jean Nott."

Atticus’s expression darkened. He kept the ore carefully, tucking it into his pocket before King Calarian could look over.

"Where?"

"That slippery bastard," Jonah said with gritted teeth. "It seems like he’s followed us all the way to Xahan."

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