Sylver Seeker

Sylver lazily kept his hand on Mora’s lead, while he and Faust slowly walked down the road. Bravo had teleported them as close to the Schlagen mountains as he could manage and then escorted them towards the nearest road before he teleported back to Arda.

From what he had explained he could teleport home an infinite number of times, pretty much whenever he wanted. But going somewhere else was limited to roughly once a month, depending on the distance.

They discovered early on during their stroll that not a single person present made any sound when they walked. Sylver didn’t even think about it, his boots had been enchanted not to make noise since the day Nyx taught him that spell, Mora’s hooves didn’t even kick up dust due to her magic, and Faust had a naturally dead silent stride.

“How much longer is it?” Faust asked, as Sylver flicked his hand out and produced a hand-drawn map. He looked ahead and could see a fork in the road that matched an identical one on the map.

“Couple of hours? We’ll get there before the first sun starts going down,” Sylver answered, as he disappeared the map back into his [Bound Bones] storage.

Roughly 10 minutes of silence passed.

Their surroundings were disarmingly calm and peaceful. There weren’t any tall trees anywhere, but the weeds that had grown on the edges of the packed dirt road were a relaxing bright green. In the distance, Sylver could see a farming field of some kind, as well as a small mound that they had been using as a landmark.

“Have you ever been married?” Faust asked.

Sylver thought the question over for a moment.

“What do you consider to be an official marriage? You don’t seem like the type to ask for permission or blessing from a god?” Faust asked.

“In the case of the Ibis, the marriage wouldn’t be official until it was recognized by an Archmage, and in the case of an Archmage getting married, recognized by the Arch-Magi,” Sylver said.

“Is it just tradition, or is there a reason for it?” Faust asked.

“Mostly it’s so that the person isn’t a spy for one of the enemy factions. And everyone loves a wedding, especially when two immortals get married. I’ve only seen…6 immortals get married during my entire life,” Sylver said.

“Did you ever get tricked? Or bring in a spy, I mean,” Faust asked, and Sylver chuckled to himself before answering.

“11 times. Only 4 away from setting a record. The Arch-Pyromancer before Adema was really unlucky,” Sylver said as Faust was caught off guard by the number.

“How?” Ria butted in, with a tone of disbelief that made it sound as if Sylver just lost several points of respect.

“The first 2 times, I was in a very bad place, and in hindsight should have seen it coming. As for the last 9… It’s still my fault, but on the other hand, I was targeted,” Sylver said with a wave of the hand as if he could dismiss the topic of conversation away.

“What do you mean targeted?” Faust asked as Mora sneezed, and the packed dirt directly in front of her turned a slightly darker shade of brown.

Sylver used [Advanced Earth Manipulation] to move the explosive vapor-soaked earth as far down as he could manage.

“I mean, a bunch of immortal dickheads formed an alliance to kill me and decided that the easiest way to do that was to have my beloved wife do it while I was vulnerable. They collected a little over 10,000 women, all of whom had features I found attractive. Then they mixed and matched them with various men, to produce daughters.

“Then those daughters were placed in positions where I would eventually cross paths with them. And if I didn’t, they would teach their daughters, who would teach their daughters, and so on, until I bumped into them. And because I was a moron, I fell in love, nearly died, and then did it 8 more times, until I noticed a now obvious pattern,” Sylver explained, in a monotone voice, as if this was the hundredth time that he was telling this story.

“How do you fall for the same trick 9 times?” Faust asked, with a tone that Sylver would describe as disrespectfully astonished.

Nevertheless, Sylver shrugged his shoulders.

“It didn’t occur to me that I was worth putting in that much effort. Also, do keep in mind I didn’t get stabbed while in a weakened form and then got married to an identical-looking woman the next day. Literal empires started and ended between each fuckup. I also…” Sylver’s voice trailed off as he wasn’t sure if this was something he wanted to share with Faust and Ria.

“What?” Faust asked.

Sylver let the words sit at the edge of his tongue to see if they belonged there.

“I wanted to be loved. Not as a master, as a friend, as a son, as an Archmage, or whatever else I was to whoever knew me. I wanted someone to look at me, see me, and love me for me. And those 9 women did just that.

“There wasn’t any “Oh! So this is the great and powerful so and so!” just a simple, “I see you.” I… I don’t know if you’re at this stage yet, but once you live past a certain point, it gets difficult to care. And when you find someone you can’t help but care about, it’s like finding shade in a scorching desert,” Sylver said without allowing his voice to so much as wiggle, let alone shake or crack.

During the silence that followed Sylver sent the shades ahead to scout everything out one more time. The tall grass on either side of the road provided more than enough cover for them to move around freely. They returned and informed him that the road was empty.

“What happened to them?” Faust asked.

Sylver took a deep breath out of habit before he spoke.

“The first 2 died when they tried to steal one of my grimoires. The redhead was a healer; the blonde was a minor noble. As for the 9… Someone in the Ibis handled it for me,” Sylver said in a seemingly relaxed voice.

“Handled as in…” Faust asked in just short of a whisper.

“Handled as in, I came home, and they were gone. I didn’t ask what happened to them, I didn’t ask if they were alive, I didn’t ask who did it, I just pulled the metaphorical dagger out of my back, and moved on. If I knew someone close to me killed the woman I loved, I doubt I would be able to look them in the eye. It’s easier this way, everyone is equally guilty, so everyone is equally innocent,” Sylver explained, as Faust’s shoulders sank slightly, as did Ria’s.

“How did they even organize something like that?” Ria asked, and prevented the trio from having to walk through another awkward silence.

“Clairvoyants. Lots and lots and lots of clairvoyants. Once I figured everything out, Nyx helped me hunt them down. Them, and the immortals that started it. One of the immortals was something of a friend of mine. And she thought I had an exploitable weakness. In her defense, she was right. But, as you can clearly see, it didn’t work,” Sylver explained and gestured at his very much intact and relatively powerful body.

“Why did you tell me all of this?” Faust asked, and Sylver smiled at the question.

“So that my next words of advice didn’t sound insane,” he explained.

“Be careful around women, because they might be part of a massive conspiracy?” Faust guessed as Sylver shook his head.

“No… Well, yes, not right now, but in the future. You should be careful around women anyway, regardless if there’s someone out there trying to kill you. No, my advice is, and always will be, follow your heart. If you fall in love with someone, don’t think too hard about it, and dive in headfirst.

“If it doesn’t work, you’ll live, if it doesn’t work a second time, you’ll live, if it doesn’t work a third time, you’ll live. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I can count, but you only need to find the right woman once. Given that you’re immortal, the probability of eventually finding her is close to 100%,” Sylver explained as Faust quietly considered love advice given by a man who got fucked over at least 11 times.

“That sounds dangerous. And irresponsible,” Ria said, as Sylver shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just said it’s worth it in the end,” Sylver said, as he turned towards a deep in thought Faust. “There’s no pressure, but what happened with your fiancé that you ended up like that?” Sylver asked.

Faust’s face went so pale he almost matched skin tone with Sylver.

“Even though you told me about your past tragedies, if you’ll allow me, I would prefer not to talk about it,” Faust asked, and Sylver nodded his head at him.

“I say what I mean. There’s no pressure. Tell me when you’re comfortable,” Sylver said, and that was the end of their conversation.

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