"Not welcome?"
"You can't decide that."
Wrapped in a luxurious silk wizard robe and holding a fir magic wand, the Hungarian Royal Mage Istvan emitted a cold laugh: "The Emperor of the Empire, King Saint Stephen invited me here; how can it be up to you to decide if I'm welcome?"
Istvan looked at the female caster appearing on the port tower, a hint of derision flashing across his face.
Indeed, the Empire's extraordinary system relied solely on that woman Anna to support it; without her, they could only send a minor character to make up the numbers.
Although this person seemed to possess a sufficient level of spirituality, likely reaching the level of an advanced caster, compared to a master like Anna, who was extremely experienced and had one foot in the legendary domain, the gap would not be less than that between an apprentice and an advanced caster.
"Heh, a young advanced caster, thinking herself favored by fate, but utterly unaware that mere ranks mean nothing."
