Chapter 110: The Gnome

Five days passed in the blink of an eye. Ever since the Count and Born returned from the ice islands of the High Glacier, Born had been immersed in alchemical experiments.

The Count had recently fallen into a state of extreme lethargy, acting as if he were terminally ill with laziness. He spent his days in total leisure, so Born simply seized the laboratory for himself—it would be a waste not to utilize such high-quality equipment.

Of course, Born also took this opportunity to gather data on the equipment, planning to outfit his own future lab with a similar set. The Count, who previously forbade him from touching these instruments, had now opened access to them—a rare opportunity indeed. After all, Born’s own alchemy was arguably no longer inferior to the Count’s.

"Whew! Finally!" Born looked at his masterpiece with great satisfaction.

"What is this?" The Count asked, his curiosity piqued. Ever since they returned, the brat had been buried in the experimental zone, tinkering with these strange gadgets.

"Heh heh! This is a real game-changer." Born looked smug, picking up one of the devices to toy with it. "It’s called a 'Positioning Indicator.'"

"A Positioning Indicator?"

"Exactly!" Born said excitedly. "The maximum effective range for a [Teleport] spell is about 150 miles. Within 100 miles, there’s rarely significant deviation, but beyond that, the destination tends to drift. This indicator, however, is inscribed with a magical sigil. As long as you bury it at a designated location beforehand, you can teleport there quickly and accurately, ensuring you hit your mark without deviation even at the maximum distance."

"Oh?" The Count shot Born an unexpected look. When had this kid developed such keen military acumen?

However, Born’s next words immediately dispelled that thought.

"What’s more, this 'Positioning Indicator' can bypass certain types of seals. Even if I don't have authorization, I can teleport into the Academy's protective magic circles without being detected by a Wizard Tower—though I couldn't get *into* the tower itself, of course. If I place one in the High Glacier, one in Sevegard, and one at every location I visit within a 150-mile radius, I’ll be able to escape the battlefield instantly if I ever run into trouble. Hehehe..."

Born grew more excited as he spoke, completely oblivious to the fact that the Count’s face had turned as dark as the bottom of a scorched pot. "With this 'Positioning Indicator,' I don't believe anyone on the continent of Faerûn could ever outrun me... Hahaha... even a god descending from the heavens couldn't catch me! Huh? Why is it suddenly so cold?"

Born looked up to see the Count trembling with rage, his face pitch-black. The Count was exerting every ounce of his remaining self-control to keep from disciplining his own kin, while a thick layer of frost was already forming beneath his feet.

"N-no... Grandfather, please... let me explain... I was just... just talking..." Born scrambled backward, terrified.

*Zzz... zzzzt...*

The Count raised his left hand, blue electric arcs dancing in his palm.

*Gulp!*

Born swallowed hard. "You can't be serious, Grandfather! You're actually going to do it?!"

"Hmph!"

With a cold snort from the Count, the electricity surged toward Born.

*Whoosh... Crack!*

The bolt struck the floor, and Born’s figure vanished into thin air.

Looking at the scorch marks on the ground, the Count’s furious expression melted away, returning to his usual composure. He let out a soft sigh. "Finally got rid of that brat. Such keen intuition—if I’d waited any longer, I wouldn't have been able to hide it."

For a high-level Arcanist, time was precious. Even the trip to the countryside to fetch Born back to Sevegard had been timed to the second. Now, sitting around for ten days or half a month drinking tea—such abnormal behavior made it impossible for Born not to be suspicious. He had spent these past few days dropping hints and probing for answers, leaving the Count with no choice but to manufacture a rage and chase him away.

Especially with the "Fate’s Call" drawing near, the magic in his body was undergoing a qualitative change, and his physical form was transitioning into a legendary being. His power was growing beyond his control; if he hadn't chased Born away, he wouldn't have been able to keep the secret much longer.

...

Ever since the "Little Glacier Teleportation Incident" a few days ago, no one had dared to bother Viscount Gordon. Instead, many clients who had previously worked with the Lehman Trading Company were now proactively reaching out, hoping to resume business, and they had even brought along a slew of new clients.

Lehman had been running around nonstop these past few days, overwhelmed by invitations to cocktail parties, banquets, and exclusive private clubs. He tried to decline as many as he could, but it never seemed to end; in just a few days, he had visibly put on weight.

Fortunately, with Gordon supervising, construction inside the alchemical workshop accelerated significantly. In particular, the two hundred craftsmen and three hundred gnome slaves sent by various major families over the last two days had doubled the workforce, speeding up progress several times over and making up for the previously lost time.

The gnomes, in particular, were exceptionally skilled workers. One master-level gnome craftsman, upon seeing Born’s blueprints, was so awestruck that he became desperate to learn from the genius who had drawn them.

In Netheril, all gnomes were slaves, but this one was a treasure—a master artisan. Otherwise, he would never have dared to clash so directly with a Viscount; any other gnome would have been executed on the spot. However, due to pressure from the Elves, Netheril’s treatment of gnomes had improved; generally, unless it was a matter of grave importance, they were no longer killed outright.

With a shimmer of space, Born’s feet touched solid ground, and he found himself above the storage room.

The room used to conceal the "Magic Storage Device" had been rebuilt, with the wooden supports replaced by iron pillars. Of course, if another incident like the last one occurred, then unless it was reinforced with Earth-style reinforced concrete, no amount of strengthening would matter.

Born didn't pay attention to these details, though; he simply sat there quietly.

His sudden appearance clearly drew attention. When the veterans of the Lehman Trading Company saw their boss had returned, they were thrilled and began working with even more vigor.

During this period, the people of the Lehman Trading Company had truly seen it all. Influential noble families from all over Sevegard had come to visit, and even high-ranking grandees rarely seen in public had paid their respects in person. Though they didn't know the exact reason, it was clearly all thanks to Born, and they held him in even higher esteem.

Seeing Born sitting there in silence, they instinctively moved more softly and carefully.

A moment later, Born snapped back to reality, realizing he had returned to the workshop. He stared at the bustling construction crew in bewilderment. There were so many unfamiliar faces—and why were there gnomes?

Though gnomes were slaves, they were renowned for their nimble hands and were famous for being prolific, skilled craftsmen. Later, once alchemy became widespread, gnomes would become the most common alchemists and the race with the most inventors.

However, it was precisely because of this brilliant talent that they were enslaved by the Netherese. Gnomes loathed races taller than themselves, though they rarely showed open malice—except toward the Netherese, whom they hated to the point of enmity!