"Name?"
"Kuzun."
"Identity?"
"An astrologer traveling through the Lands Between."
"Purpose of visit?"
"To seek enrollment at the Academy of Raya Lucaria."
Facing the soldier's interrogation, Mohg answered with a calm, practiced expression, handing over his belongings for inspection.
One of the Cuckoo Soldiers standing nearby caught a glimpse of the Runes in Mohg's pouch, his eyes flashing with a spark of greed. However, he quickly straightened his posture under the sharp gaze of a Carian soldier overseeing the proceedings.
After wordlessly warning the Cuckoo mercenary, the Carian Sergeant turned his attention back to Mohg.
Truth be told, Mohg's appearance and stated identity were far too conspicuous. His long red hair, blood-red eyes, and skin that clearly belonged to a high-born noble made the Sergeant highly skeptical of his story.
It wasn't that he suspected Mohg of being a spy; no sane faction would send such a noticeable person undercover. They'd be spotted in a crowd instantly. Where was the "under" in that "cover"?
Rather, he simply doubted that Mohg was a wandering astrologer. Although his outfit was a decent imitation, several details didn't quite match the traditional garb of that lineage. Given Mohg's physical traits, the Sergeant suspected he was more likely a pampered young master running away from a noble household in search of excitement.
As for which noble house... he couldn't say. He guessed the boy wasn't from the Lake District; likely some lordling from a distant land out for a thrill.
The Sergeant let out a long sigh, intending to deny him entry. At a time of high tension, he didn't want any unnecessary complications. It was better to keep this "young master" far away from the Gate Town.
Mohg, who had been tracking the Sergeant's every micro-expression, realized the man was about to reject him. He quickly slid a heavy pouch over to the officer.
"This is a little 'specialty' from my hometown. I hope you can help me out. I truly need to enter the Academy to study sorcery."
"…Even if I let you in, there's no guarantee you'll actually be accepted by the Academy," the Sergeant said after a long silence, his eyes lingering on the weighted bag before looking up at Mohg.
"I'll find a way myself. I believe my talent will speak for itself; I just need the chance to prove it," Mohg said, his voice brimming with earnest conviction. "Besides, this is my only chance. If I fail, I'm afraid I'll have nothing left but…"
He trailed off, his eyes shimmering with a hint of sorrow and desperation. It was a performance so convincing he almost wanted to give himself an award.
The Sergeant remained silent for a moment longer before glancing at the Cuckoo Soldier inspecting the bags. The mercenary looked confused for a second, then realization dawned on him. He turned around with a sigh of resignation, muttering under his breath.
Mohg could just barely catch the words—something about the Sergeant being a "stingy old miser."
Once the subordinate's back was turned, the Sergeant reached out and swept the bag of Runes off the table.
"Fine. Take your things. This is your permit; as long as you don't cause trouble, the guards won't harass you."
"Thank you!" Mohg nodded solemnly, his face filled with gratitude.
As Mohg walked away, the Sergeant watched his receding back and sighed. "Ah, I really am too soft-hearted. Did another good deed today…"
The moment he was out of sight, Mohg's grateful mask vanished. He walked into the Academy Gate Town with a stoic expression, pausing to tie his hair back and pull up his hood. He realized his red hair was a bit too distinct—amongst a crowd of brown and black-haired people, he was basically a torch in the dark.
"A few bumps in the road, but I'm finally in…"
Mohg couldn't help but marvel at the sprawling architecture before him. The Gate Town of this era was a far cry from the scattered ruins he remembered from the future. Tall, spire-like buildings lined the streets, and the people walking about were well-dressed, reflecting the prosperity of the region.
He saw plenty of mercenaries and hunters milling about, and occasionally, he spotted individuals in Academy sorcerer robes. However, none of them wore the iconic Glintstone crowns. Mohg figured these were either new apprentices or perhaps "Dullstones"—those who lacked the talent to master Glintstone Pebble or Glintstone Arc and were thus denied further resources by the Academy.
The Academy was never an institution of equality. In their eyes, the untalented and the gifted were two entirely different species. They were, as always, an arrogant bunch.
After scanning his surroundings, Mohg picked a tavern and stepped inside.
He was immediately greeted by a wall of scents: sweat, perfume, liquor, and the savory aroma of cooked food. Fortunately, the cool weather of the Lake District kept the tavern from becoming stiflingly hot.
Mohg's entrance didn't draw much attention; the patrons continued their business. He was satisfied with this—it would be more unsettling if the whole room stopped to stare at him. Ignoring the crowd, he walked straight to the bar.
"Welcome, traveler. What can I get for you?" the bartender asked with a smile, wiping down the counter as he looked Mohg over.
"What do you have?"
"Fresh ale, fruit wine brewed from Rowa berries, and snacks like fried crab and shrimp," the bartender replied with a shrug.
"I'll take a glass of Rowa wine and an order of fried crab," Mohg decided, laying out 100 Runes as payment.
The bartender took the Runes and moved to count out change.
"Keep the rest as a tip. I'm new in town and want to learn a bit about what's going on around here."
The bartender smiled, pocketing the extra. "Of course. I'd be happy to help."
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (369 Chapters – Ongoing)
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