"Ah." Dwight nodded, coming to his senses. "Then find her a room and let her take it off herself." He smiled, looking at the long-legged girl. "I mean no harm. I'm only interested in your armor."
"You damned brat! Lay one finger on me and I'll —" the girl cursed.
Dwight stepped forward, his face stern, and poked her hard on the cheek with one finger. "There. I touched you. What are you going to do about it?"
The others were all tied up. The bull-like warrior had even been chained with cattle bindings the knights found somewhere.
As for the fiery girl, the Rollin guards knocked her out and tossed her directly into Dwight's room. If their young master took an interest in the girl, why not curry favor?
Dwight paid no mind to his men's dirty thoughts. He focused on examining the mage alone.
Stripped of his gray robe, the mage stood in his underclothes, bound tightly with rope. At first, he tried to threaten the young noble.
"Do you know what you're doing, treating a mage this way? Do you fear the wrath of the Magic Guild?!"
A sharp slap was his only answer. The mage fell silent at once.
Dwight rubbed his stinging hand. His body was still far too weak.
"Answer my questions honestly, and I might let you go." Dwight sat in a chair, staring at the trussed-up mage. "When you cast those Fireballs earlier, I saw no incantation. Have you mastered the art of **Instant Casting**?"
That was what puzzled him most.
All the books Dwight had read stated one unshakable rule: a mage **must** chant to cast magic.
True, a tiny handful of the greatest archmages on the continent could use willpower to form incantations silently, within their minds — the legendary **Instant Casting**. But this required immense spiritual power and absolute mastery of magic.
Only the most famous mages in the land could do this. A lowly First-Class Mage could never possess such a skill.
Besides personal mastery, there was one other common way to cast instantly: **Magic Scrolls**.
A scroll had a spell pre-inscribed upon it. In battle, a mage only needed to tear it open to unleash the stored magic at once.
But scrolls were rare and expensive. The higher the spell, the harder to craft. Only low-level spells were commonly made into scrolls; mid-level scrolls were precious treasures. High-level scrolls were almost unheard of.
That was why Dwight was so fascinated by this low-ranked mage.
During the fight, he had cast without chanting at all — just like true Instant Casting.
Even if the spells were only basic Fireballs.
Mage ranks in this world were strictly defined by magic power and skill.
Chanting efficiency was one of the clearest measures of a mage's ability.
Even for the same spell, different mages chanted differently. The most skilled had refined their incantations, cutting syllables or speeding their delivery. In battle, even a fraction of a second meant striking first — and winning.
Research into incantations was a mage's most closely guarded secret. To share it was to give up one's greatest advantage.
As for Instant Casting… it was the obsession of every mage on the continent, something they would sacrifice everything to obtain.
Dwight was no fool. He did not believe a First-Class Mage, barely above an apprentice, could truly master Instant Casting.
His guess: the man had found some trick, some substitute that mimicked the effect.
Otherwise, if he really could cast instantly, he would never have ended up tied up like a prisoner. Their party would have won the fight easily.
The man had a secret — and that was what Dwight craved.
At Dwight's question, the mage's face darkened. He avoided eye contact, lips clamped shut.
Dwight smirked. He did not expect the man to cooperate so easily.
They were in the tavern's back kitchen. Alone, he had all the time in the world.
He began examining the loot taken from the mage.
First, the mage's robe. Dwight tossed it into the stove. It flared up and burned away. The Silver Leaf Badge he twirled between his fingers before throwing it in too.
The badge was official certification from the Magic Guild… and, to Dwight's modern eyes, it had another special property: anti-theft.
Enchanted by the Magic Guild, the badge could only be worn by its owner. If taken too far from him, it melted automatically. It also emitted a unique magical signature, making forgery nearly impossible.
Useless to Dwight. The tied mage watched it burn with a pained expression.
"See, I mean no harm." Dwight smiled, a devilish grin on his young, pale face. "I'm just a boy curious about magic. Answer me, and I'll set you free."
The mage still said nothing.
Dwight continued sorting the spoils.
A small pouch, pulled from inside the robe. He emptied it: several gems of mixed quality. Precious to ordinary men, but to a mage, they were only storage for magic power. Dwight pocketed them without hesitation.
Two more items: sheets of parchment, inscribed with low-level magic incantations.
Dwight's eyes lit up.
He had read countless books on magical theory… but by strict tradition, **no real incantations were ever written in books**.
Books explained concepts and rules, but not a single line of real spellwork — not even the simplest Fireball.
Anyone could read about magic, but no one could become a mage from books alone.
Dwight knew all the theories, but not one single incantation.
This preserved the ancient rule of the mages: magic was passed down **only** from master to apprentice, by word and hand — never to the public.
*Like gun control in my old world*, Dwight thought. Anyone could read about guns online or in books, but no ordinary person could build a real one from scratch.
"Oh? What's this?"
Last among the items: several small, sealed glass vials, filled with colored powders.
Dwight dared not open them blindly. A mage's personal belongings were often dangerous — one vial might hold a petrification potion.
"My guess was right." Dwight sat up straight, smiling at his prisoner. "You're no strong mage. You're just a low-ranked First-Class Mage, that's obvious. The Instant Casting you used was just some cheap trick… wasn't it?
I'll give you two choices: tell me the secret, satisfy my curiosity, and I'll let you go.
Or… you suffer."
The mage tried to stall. "You are a noble! Do you not shame your title by treating a mage this way?"
Dwight said nothing.
Noble? So what?
The truth was, Dwight had never truly belonged in this world. He felt lost, with no goal.
Everything he once had — his old life, dreams, friends, family, love — had been brutally ripped away.
For years, he had drifted aimlessly.
The only thing in this strange world that sparked his interest was **magic**.
Nothing else mattered.
Did he care that he had ordered an attack on strangers in a tavern just to satisfy his curiosity?
Not at all.
Dwight Rollin… or whoever he had been in his past life… had never been a good man.