Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

"This is very good," Nick murmured after swallowing another roll. They were softer than the usual fare found around these parts, and the cheese was still warm.

"Thank you," Zoran said, proudly puffing out his chest. "I developed the recipe myself, after my apprenticeship with the baker of House Tonton. Mine are the best rolls of the West!"

Nick stifled a smile. There was nothing wrong with being proud of one's craft, even if he would have expected Zoran to be different.

To [Empyrean Intuition], he seemed powerful enough to be an experienced adventurer. That wasn't something a common baker could ever claim, but it seemed that he truly had a passion for bread-making.

An awkward silence filled the shop afterward, as Nick kept chewing and stared at the man, who started to fidget.

The more he stared, the more Zoran fidgeted until finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Is there something wrong, milord?"

Nick thought about taking a roundabout route. He could gradually lead the baker in circles to lower his guard, but his instincts told him that wasn't necessary.

"What can you tell me about the situation in Oakenhallow?" He asked instead.

Zoran clenched his fists, hesitating, before he sighed. "Ah, my ma' always told me I was never good at keeping my mouth shut. It's been weird, milord. Things keep changing quickly, and while most people keep their heads down and adapt, we all miss the old Lady."

Nick tilted his head, letting his mana subtly fill the room. It wasn't so much an intimidation tactic as a way to increase the pressure. With his high charisma, it often worked wonders to make people spill their secrets.

Not that I need it with him. He seems desperate to speak with someone.

Zoran was a grown man, but the way he fidgeted and pulled at his fingers almost made him look like a boy. "It all started a year ago. Lady Desmera got sick, really sick. We got a few healers in Oakenhallow, but none powerful enough to cast the better spells. So she had to go on a potion regimen that made her unable to eat most stuff."

He closed his eyes in grief, and Nick could see that it was genuine. "She used to love my pastries. I made a batch specifically for her every morning, and she paid handsomely for them. But after she started the potions, she couldn't come anymore. And no matter how many she took, the sickness only slowed."

Mmm, I can't say I know what kind of illness that might have been. Most ailments can be treated with simple brews or potions, and when those don't work, they do nothing to slow the decay. The more I hear, the more suspicious this sounds.

"Eventually, ten months ago, she passed away. The whole town mourned her, you see, she was a patron of many shops around here. But not even two weeks later, Sir Poules had a new wife." Bitterness and not a little anger filled him, along with a healthy dose of fear.

That, that was what Nick was interested in. "Tell me more."

Zoran clearly struggled, torn between unloading the burden and being cautious, but in the end, he relented. "Lady Chandra was not well-liked initially. Many people were upset that the mourning period wasn't observed, and they ostracized her. It was nothing mean, really. Just people avoiding her or not immediately following her commands."

"And then what happened?"

"And then everyone started acting strangely. People who swore they would never speak with her suddenly changed their minds and started praising her. Others who had kept their distance were brought into the manor and became trusted servants. It was... No one saw anything untoward, of course, but we all learned to keep quiet. And then Sir Poules began taking long hunting trips, leaving her in charge more often than not, and speaking ill of her became taboo."

Nick nodded, humming to himself. That lined up with what he'd seen on his own. Chandra didn't seem to be a particularly evil person, or at least not violent, but her ambition was great, and she had few qualms about using her power to sway people to her side.

"But you didn't," he said after a while, and the baker nodded grimly.

"I didn't. I ran away from my apprenticeship because my master got involved in some gossip, and I saw what nobles can do to peasants. They have classes with extremely high charisma, and they can easily manipulate people to their will. I… I spent a few years as an adventurer, initially selling my services as a porter, and developed some skills in wielding nature magic. After I settled down here, I did my best to stay away from that kind of thing."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Nick could see that he had understated his ability, but he hadn't lied outright. Zoran seemed to genuinely believe himself to be unremarkable, especially when compared to the nobility, and Nick had to wonder why that was.

But the real discovery was about the town's past. Such a sudden change in behavior couldn't be explained through natural means.

I bet a more socially oriented class could cause that. Nobles might have something like that, but nothing prevents regular people from getting them too. And once they reach a high enough level...

Whether Chandra was born a noble or just got lucky during her ceremony, he didn't know, but it didn't really matter. She seemed determined to strengthen her hold over Oakenhallow, and that couldn't be allowed. Not without his father's permission, at least.

I guess I'll have to see what Sir Poules is like. If he's an idiot, it might be better to leave her in charge. But then again, I don't really like the idea of a woman so comfortable with mental manipulation being the de facto ruler of the third-largest settlement in our land.

Removing her would be easy. He could do it now, since the manor was within his range. It would take some effort to craft a [Jet Stream] from this distance, but he could.

A single hit to the head, and she'd be dead before realizing she was in danger.

Unfortunately, not all problems could be solved through murder—at least not without his father's permission. As a result, Nick decided to keep gathering information for now.

"Very well, thank you, Zoran. I appreciate your help," he said, sliding a whole silver coin across. It was at least ten times the value of the bread he'd eaten, but it wasn't much compared to the information he'd been given.

The baker opened his mouth to refuse the money, but then met his eyes and wilted. "Thank you, my lord."

He's quite strong, but his personality is very passive. It's no surprise he kept his head down. But then again, it's not really his responsibility to handle this matter.

With that, Nick turned around and walked away. Looking up at the sky, he saw that it was still early afternoon and let out a sigh. He could talk to other townsfolk, but he doubted he'd learn much more, and he figured that some of them would probably report back to Chandra if he asked around too much.

No, he'd already done enough to make her nervous. It was better to let her think he was satisfied with just this much.

Nick spent the rest of the afternoon with Tim. After checking on Homer and the horses and giving him some coins to buy himself a meal and ale from a local tavern, he slipped back into the manor and made his way toward the boy's room, where he could sense him practicing his magic.

A guard outside noticed him quickly but didn't try to stop him, likely because he was already informed of his arrival.

He had said he would during lunch, after all, and Chandra was anything but inefficient.

"Oh, Nick, welcome," Tim exclaimed, abandoning his attempts at levitating a large sphere of metal.

Claudius looked up from a tome and smiled, inclining his head in greeting. "Good afternoon, my lord. Have you come to join us in practice? You might be a year younger than Lord Timothy, but that doesn't mean you can't start preparing for the next Tower examination."

Nick suppressed a laugh. He was pretty sure he could overpower the man without even trying. But then again, there was no need to be rude, and he could always brush up on the basics. And really, power isn't everything. He seems to have received an education at the Tower himself, so he might be familiar with local theories.

"Why not? Is that kinetic magic?" He asked, taking a seat in one of the free chairs.

Tim and Claudius sat at an oak table, which was set with a series of heavy metal balls resting on feather cushions.

Evidently, this was meant to be a progressive exercise, where one started with the smallest sphere and moved to the largest after mastering the spell.

"Indeed, we are practicing the basic [Levitate] spell. Are you familiar with the theory?" Claudius nodded, gesturing toward one of the books.

"May I?" Nick asked, and upon receiving a nod, grabbed the tome. He quickly skimmed the introduction, which seemed more like a personal diary of the mage who had written it, then moved to the theory section, where the spell [Levitate] was described.

It reminded Nick of how his ancestor, Aleister, had written his notes more than any of the books he had come across so far. There was a dense paragraph that explained the basic principles of kinetic magic and how [Levitate] allowed one to build on the understanding developed with [Push] and expand it, turning the explosive burst of magic into a steadier, more controlled form.

Compared to his [Telekinetic Field], this spell seemed simpler because it could only be cast on a specific target, and its boundaries were so thin that he was sure adding too much mana would cause it to collapse instead of increasing lift.

That explained why Tim was struggling. He was weaker than Nick, but he should have had enough mana to brute-force levitate every ball here.

If he were using such a restrictive spell, then perhaps his failure could be explained. Or rather, it would make sense that he's focusing so much on this spell. It probably teaches control much better than simply feeling your way through a spell. If you can lift every stone with this faulty matrix, then you might be worth teaching better magic.

He didn't want to appear boastful, so Nick chose to show his skill by casting the spell on the smallest ball.

It was already getting late in the afternoon, and tomorrow he would need to meet Sir Poules in person to figure out what to do about the whole Chandra situation.

Putting the tome back down, Nick flicked a finger toward the small sphere of dark gray metal, casting the spell as it was outlined.

Getting it right wasn't difficult for him, despite never practicing this particular matrix before. He was already well-versed in kinetic magic, and levitation was his bread and butter.

Furthermore, [Parsimonia] granted him complete control over his mana. This straightforward exercise couldn't hope to stump him.

The spell unfurled without problem, though he faced a slight resistance when he went to apply it to the sphere. Still, he overcame it with a flex of his will, and when he crooked his finger up, the sphere rose a few inches off the pillow.

"That's a little heavier than I expected," he muttered.

That was when he realized that the other two occupants of the room had gone deathly silent. They stared at the perfectly locked sphere with wide eyes, and Nick realized he might have screwed up.

"That is a Cold Iron sphere. It's supposed to be the highest difficulty, that only masters of the affinity can lift," Claudius murmured, blinking rapidly.

"Ah, I just remembered I have something I need to take care of," Nick said, letting the ball drop with a loud thud, making the entire table groan, and ran away.