Sovereign of the Ashes

Chapter 116: Old John

The leader’s voice was quite loud.

Sein was taken aback when the man dropped to one knee in a gesture of respect, like a true knight. The surrounding commoners collectively gasped in surprise.

In the eyes of the common folk, nobles were shrouded in mystery, carrying an air of prestige.

The Earl of Cercis had earned a favorable reputation in his territory and throughout the entire Lysian Alliance.

However, only a handful of commoners had ever had the privilege of encountering him.

The sudden appearance of an earl in Grantt City left little room for doubt—it was likely the Earl of Cercis himself.

The commoners in the vicinity promptly knelt down on both knees as a gesture of profound respect.

As the word “earl” echoed through the crowd, more and more residents dropped to their knees as a sign of respect.

Starting from the city gate where Sein stood, the residents of Grantt City knelt down in waves, creating a ripple effect of reverence.

Even those at a distance joined in after witnessing the increasing number of residents and on-duty soldiers kneeling, despite being uncertain of the situation.

Just like that, Sein caused a small commotion in the East District of Grantt City.

Not everyone yielded to the prevailing influence. There were always a few clear-headed individuals in the crowd, particularly those who had encountered the Earl of Cercis before.

A middle-aged man in steel chainmail swiftly descended from the city wall. As his eyes met Sein’s face, a flash of shock crossed his features.

His expression wavered between surprise and unease, and he was noticeably agitated for some reason.

The middle-aged man was older than the leader of the guards. He was a seasoned veteran who had fought alongside Earl Grantt for many years.

To label him merely “middle-aged” would be an understatement as he was quite advanced in age.

Yet, his robust physique, shaped by his battle qi, conveyed a strength that defied his true years.

The man in chain armor was none other than the garrison commander of the East District.

He acted swiftly, kicking aside the kneeling leader and cursing under his breath before promptly approaching Sein.

This veteran commander knew better than to make such an error, having witnessed Earl Grantt and his entourage departing from Grantt City three months earlier.

Even if the man before him were the earl, it would be implausible for him to make a round trip to Skurvayne City, the heart of the Lysian Alliance, in such a short span.

Despite his certainty that the young man before him was not the earl, the commander maintained his manners.

He walked up to Sein and politely inquired, “And who might you be?”

For some reason, Sein found the man strangely familiar, though he could recall his identity.

In response to the inquiry, Sein took a moment of contemplation before answering, “My name is Sein.”

Sein Grantt—that was his real name. These were the two words etched in his memory since his abduction to the Gloomhaven in early childhood.

The commander visibly reacted to Sein’s answer.

Sein could discern a blend of incredulity and surprise in the man’s eyes.

“Restore order to the East District immediately. I need to escort this young man to the castle!” the commander ordered the leader, whom he had earlier kicked aside, then turned his attention back to Sein.

Sein nodded to the commander and said, “Lead the way”.

***

The commotion in the East District not only became the talk of Grantt City’s residents for the foreseeable future but also left Sein’s coachman and members of certain mage councils, who had followed Sein here, bewildered.

“It seems like there’s more to that senior initiate than we know... Could he be related to Earl Grantt?” a senior initiate from the Pyro Emblem speculated as he watched Sein and the garrison commander depart.

Earl Grantt’s influence and social standing in the Lysian Alliance were significant enough that even senior initiates like him treaded carefully around the earl.

In response to the senior initiate’s speculation, an intermediate initiate accompanying him remarked, “Elder Domvall is already on his way here. With the elder’s involvement this time, the chances of recruiting him into our council should increase.”

“I can understand why the council is so keen on recruiting that senior initiate if he is truly in his twenties and possesses exceptional skills in alchemy.”

***

Seated in the carriage, Sein followed the garrison commander, who rode on a warhorse, toward the northern part of the city.

Grantt City boasted four gates, but only three remained wide open during regular times.

The northern gate was perpetually closed because it was connected to the innermost part of Grantt City—a massive castle constructed with extensive labor and abundant resources.

The Earl of Cercis and his family resided within the castle all year round.

The castle accommodated not only the members of House Grantt and their servants but also an elite private army exclusively loyal to House Grantt.

The innermost part of the city was actually a small city itself with four to five thousand residents within its fortified walls.

As Sein’s carriage approached the imposing stone castle, he gazed at the towering walls and the colossal statue of a lion perched majestically atop the structure.

In a sudden moment of recollection, Sein remarked, “Hm... That stone lion seems familiar.”

The stone lion at the castle’s pinnacle resembled a relatively rare magic beast.

Each of its two wings bore white feathers, and a horn adorned its forehead, presenting an extraordinary appearance.

“That is the guardian beast of our Grantt Territory, my lord,” the garrison commander explained with utmost respect.

Avoiding direct use of Sein’s name or any formal title, the commander simply addressed Sein as “lord”.

Sein remained silent for a brief moment before saying, “You need not be so formal with me. I can sense your long-standing loyalty to House Grantt. Though I don’t recall your identity precisely, I remember something you said to me in the past.”

Sein paused briefly before mimicking the voice from his memory. “Keep your legs straight, your breath steady, your eyes looking forward, and try to mobilize the strength of your left hand...”

Before Sein could finish, the garrison commander on his warhorse, unexpectedly let out a choked sob.

It was an unexpected display of emotion from a man of considerable strength, akin to a senior squire.

The commander dismounted and dropped to one knee before Sein’s carriage and said, “Yes, Young Master, it is I, Old John. I was the one who taught you the breathing technique back then.”

He spoke with a quivering voice as tears streamed down his cheeks, drawing Sein’s attention to his weathered face.

At that moment, Sein was certain that this man was far beyond middle age.

Having dedicated numerous years to serving House Grantt, the Earl of Cercis had allowed him to retire from active duty and granted him a position as a garrison commander to spend his twilight years in peace.

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