Round Nineteen: The Red-Clothed Mage’s Proposal

“This isn’t my home, Teacher Jiali,” Moriel said, lifting her hood and bowing slightly toward the red-clothed mage in the shadows, though she didn’t use the unique ritual customary when meeting such a mage.
Jiali waved his hand gently. “Heh, in front of you, I no longer deserve that title. Please come in, let’s talk…”
His gaze lingered on Siqi’s face for a moment before cleverly shifting away before Siqi could find fault with it.
Though there were no windows, the hall was as bright as day. Walking across the crimson carpet under the bright magical lights, they sat down at an antique-style table. Exquisite and expensive statues and decorations exuded an unmistakable air of luxury, along with an ever-present sense of mysterious oppression. Moriel suddenly didn’t know what to say—she had been away from such places for so long that they now seemed strange to her. Yet they quickly awakened her memories through almost instinctive recall, and her magical tattoos seemed to ache, as if they had just been tattooed onto her skin.
Jiali clapped his hands lightly, and immediately someone came over with a silver tray, carefully placing cups filled with emerald-colored liquor in front of him and Moriel. Moriel glanced up at him. The young mage’s expression was one of humble obedience, mixed with slight nervousness and restraint—he was an apprentice.
“Please, Miss Moriel, your favorite,” Jiali said, raising his cup. His robe was as red as blood.
Moriel didn’t touch the cup. The green magical liquor was crystal clear, resting quietly in the transparent glass, like a beautiful gem or a living soul.
Yes. She had once been utterly fascinated by it, even to the point of addiction. Drinking it was like swallowing fire—an incredible heat surged down her throat and spread throughout her body. For as long as its effects lasted, she would feel weak and reluctant to move, yet her mind would remain unnaturally clear. Every spell in her mind seemed amplified, more precise, more effective, giving her a sense of omnipotence. Back then, Isabella never stopped her; she even laughed, saying she liked watching Moriel lazily lie in bed flipping through spellbooks… until Moriel finally learned how this liquor was made.
Tears of the Little Fairies. Moriel felt nauseous. She suppressed the urge to shatter the cup. Jiali might not have meant to—after all, when he left the headquarters of the Red-Clothed Mages, Moriel was still a naive girl who knew nothing of the world.
“I’ve quit, Teacher Jiali,” Moriel said as calmly as she could. “Ordinary wine is fine.”
“Oh?” Jiali also set down his cup. “Is that so… Actually, it’s fine to indulge occasionally.”
Moriel decided to get to the point quickly. The longer she stayed here, the more affected she seemed to become. “Teacher Jiali, I suppose you didn’t summon me just to offer me a drink, right? I’m a traitor to the Red-Clothed Mages… To be honest, I was quite surprised to find it was your invitation rather than a warrant for my arrest.”

Jiali smiled faintly, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes narrowing along with his tattoo: “You’re overthinking it, Miss Moriel.”
“There are no traitors among the Red Robes, and there never could be. Once we tattoo this on you…” Jiali gently stroked the tattoo on his forehead, “you’ll be a Red Robe for a day, and for a lifetime. In fact, ever since you left, the Red Robes have never issued an official pursuit order. I only heard about your departure long after it happened. Your outstanding performance in recent years has also won you the favor of the masters—we’re even proud of you, truly, Moriel.”
This news surprised Moriel. It wasn’t that no one left the Red Robes; such things happened often—due to oppression by the masters, failure in power struggles, or other reasons… But in the end, these people would vanish without a trace, as if they had never existed. The Red Robes were like a vast, hierarchically structured hive; bees who left the hive would end up dying silently. A Red Robe wouldn’t even stay in a city without a stronghold—only by entering their heavily guarded walls, protected by tattooed slave warriors, could they sleep soundly.
When Moriel fled the Red Robes, she had anticipated ending up dying alone in some dungeon. But she survived, and now her life was quite good—this was tantamount to openly challenging the authority of the Red Robes. Her existence would become a symbol of mockery for them, a sign of disdain for their traditions… Would the Red Robe masters tolerate such a thing? Besides… there was also Isabella.
Moriel’s silence didn’t leave Jiali speechless; it seemed he had already prepared a response: “Moriel, I can assure you that the Red Robes still recognize you as one of us. That’s what the masters want. As for the dispute between you and Master Isabella… you’re no longer an apprentice, so the other masters won’t interfere.”
Moriel looked up at Jiali, trying to figure out his true intentions: “So the masters forgive me? But I don’t think I can return to the Red Robes now. I’ve gotten used to being alone…”
She paused, using the reflection in the glass in front of her to glance at the forty-seven-year-old who was resting with his eyes closed beside her: “And living with friends on a journey. If I can’t fulfill my obligations to the Red Robes because of my own matters, or if I can’t follow orders for personal reasons, is that okay?”
Such demands would be intolerable to any organization. Yet Jiali still smiled confidently: “That’s none of my concern, Miss Moriel. I’m only here to convey this message to you… and to offer whatever help I can while you stay in Deepstream City. We are Red Robes, Moriel. No matter what happens between two Red Robes, we always stand together when facing outsiders. Otherwise, how can we survive in this dangerous world?”

What splendid, lofty words. But since we’ve gotten this far, it’s time to discuss the terms. There’s no such thing as a free meal in this world that’s only meant to let you taste it—there’s always some form of compensation required, especially from a Red Robe Mage.

“With all due respect, Master Jiali,” Moriel said, pushing back her chair and standing up, “I’d be very happy if you’d invited me here just to tell me this… but please tell me what the Red Robe Mage wants me to do. I’ll be uneasy if I stay in the dark.”

Jiali laughed heartily. “Moriel, you’re as clever and perceptive as ever!” He also stood up. “Please follow me, Miss Moriel. I have something to show you.”

The underground workshop was equally brightly lit.

Si Qi Shi immediately noticed the terrifying guardians stationed at each corner of the lab. These activated armors turned their heads toward the entrance the moment outsiders stepped in, their hollow helmets glowing with magical light, like eyes. When they sensed that the intruder was Jiali, the owner of the workshop, and that he wasn’t being held by the two men behind him, they turned back and reverted to motionless statues.

It resembled a manufacturing plant more—machines filled with gears and levers, various metal parts, complex assemblies yet to be assembled—everything felt eerily familiar.

Moriel began to guess what Jiali meant.

“This way… be careful where you step, Miss Moriel.”

Jiali led Moriel and Si Qi Shi to a huge iron cabinet in the center of the workshop. He muttered a spell softly, and the cabinet slowly unfolded into a long table.

On the smooth metal surface lay a strange mechanical creature. It resembled a slender human skeleton overall, but instead of legs, it had long, sharp claws. Its structure was extraordinarily complex, with every part meticulously crafted. Thousands of hair-thin metal wires were woven together to form its muscle fibers beneath a dull blue-black tarnished silver shell. Its carefully cut gemstone eyes absorbed rather than reflected light, emitting a faint blue glow. Its blade-like body looked like a flawless work of art.

But its movements were far from impressive. It twitched, using its four arms to pull itself up from the table. The screeching friction between its claw-like limbs and the metal surface echoed as it tried to rise, only to fall back with a thud. Its limbs moved chaotically, its skull-like head turned aimlessly, and its parts shifted erratically as if unable to find their proper positions. After flailing around for a while, the creature suddenly floated upward, as if weightless, and rushed toward Moriel and the others. Before anyone could react, it collided with an invisible magical barrier at the edge of the table, sparking, before falling face up, unable to turn over. Its claws were entangled, and it could only use its head to push around, with its long, curved neck also retracted behind it, struggling in a bizarre manner—it had tangled itself.

“Sigh.” Jiali gave a bitter smile and made a gesture to strengthen the magical defense. “You see, Miss Moriel. The mentors hope to use Agus’s construct technology to create smarter and more powerful golems. This is the first prototype… a complete failure.”
“According to the information brought back by Mentor Isabella… the effort, materials, and spells invested in this golem far exceed those used for ordinary golems.” The red-robed mage stared at the mechanically malfunctioning golem, which was twitching as if suffering from epilepsy. “Yet this is the result. We can’t find the reason, and there were no errors in its creation.”
He turned to Moriel and said, “You used to be the commander of Agus Empire’s mage forces… We think you might have access to their more core secrets regarding construct technology. This isn’t an order, but Moriel, the mentors hope you can help the Red Robe Mage Order solve this problem. As I said, you’re also a Red Robe Mage.”
Jiali paused for a moment before adding in a more emphatic tone, “We’re aware of some tensions between you and the Shirek Church. Moriel, the Dark Sun cultists hold significant power in Deepstream City… Whatever you plan to do, I think it’s necessary for you to seek the help of the Red Robe Mage Order.”
Moriel certainly understood why the Red Robe Mages had failed. The power driving Agus’s construct machines didn’t come from spells in the Magic Web but from pure energy drawn from the source of magic within the “Divine Armaments” — yet even within the Agus Mage Council, only Singh and Kiskayne truly knew this secret. Even if she agreed to cooperate with the Red Robe Mages, how could she tell Jiali? Should she hand over Forty-Seven for them to study?
“I’m sorry, Teacher Jiali.” Moriel could only refuse. “As for Agus’s construct technology… I’m not qualified to even approach it. I think it was buried forever with the downfall of the Tower of Seven Sins.”
Faced with another refusal, Jiali’s expression darkened. “Moriel, you need to know…”
“This guy is quite interesting. Give him to me,” Forty-Seven suddenly spoke up. He leaned slightly forward, staring at the dark-colored construct golem, which continued to turn its head randomly, unsure of what to do.
Jiali clearly hadn’t expected Forty-Seven to make such a request. Even though he had prepared various possible responses for this conversation, it was still too unexpected. The Red Robe Mage Order already knew that Moriel had brought back a construct from Agus — powerful and possessing extraordinary intelligence. During their meeting with Moriel, Jiali had also been observing Forty-Seven secretly, but aside from noticing his somewhat distracted behavior, he seemed unremarkable — it seemed he still didn’t interact with Forty-Seven enough.
“Moriel, you…” Jiali, relying on his experience, thought it was Moriel’s instruction.
“Give him to me,” Forty-Seven repeated. Moriel saw this as a precursor to outright theft.
“Teacher Jiali…” She was about to say something when Jiali suddenly laughed again.
“Haha, of course, no problem. It’s just a junk piece anyway. But be careful — it’s not under control.”

Forty-seven stepped forward. A white light flashed along the edge of the iron platform, and Jiali lifted the protective magic. The golem seemed startled as it raised its head; its knottedsecret silver arms untied instantly, and it lunged at Forty-seven like lightning—Forty-seven’s fist pierced through the golem’s sharp claws, striking its head with a spark as they collided, causing the golem to collapse onto the iron platform with a thud.
This once again took Jiali by surprise. Forty-seven picked up the golem as if it were trash and casually slung it over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Miss Moriel, I’ve prepared a place for you to stay…” Jiali had no way of communicating with Forty-seven, so he turned to Moriel. “A Red Robe Mage shouldn’t stay outside the stronghold. Please come with me.”
“What do you plan to do with this junk?” Moriel hadn’t intended to spend the night at the Red Robe Mage’s stronghold, but now she couldn’t care less. After confirming that no one was secretly watching through magic, she glared at Forty-seven as he fiddled with the golem on the table. “Jiali must think I can bring this mess to life! Or maybe you can? Yes, perhaps you actually like being locked in a cage with tubes all over you!”
“They say they can help you deal with the Hierarchy followers. You should agree— it’ll help you find Little Red Riding Hood.” Forty-seven held the golem’s head and examined it; one side of its skull was slightly dented. “Isn’t that good?”
Moriel sat down on the bed.
“No… Of course we need help, if Kayro is really in Deep Flow City.” She stroked the velvet mattress, feeling its delicate softness. “But not from Red Robe Mages. You don’t understand them—they’re all greedy vampires who will drain anyone who deals with them, even their own companions. Actually, I can think of other ways…”
“Since Hierarchy’s lackeys keep causing us trouble and they’re also working with Red Robe Mages to traffic drugs, why not take this opportunity to ruin their partnership?” Forty-seven began fiddling with the golem’s claws. “Drug trafficking is a very profitable business—we can’t let our enemies control it. Without money, there are no weapons, no soldiers, no supporters… and those will all become our resources. To wage war against the Hierarchy followers, destroy their bodies, and wreck their economy—every death of a Hierarchy follower brings us one step closer to Little Red Riding Hood. What do you think?”
Moriel looked at Forty-seven, surprised by his cold declaration of war.
“I didn’t expect you to come up with such a roundabout method of crushing the enemy’s economy.” She curled her lips. “I thought you only knew about teeth and fists. But how am I supposed to deal with Red Robe Mages? They won’t help for free… If I can’t tell them the secrets of Agus’s construct technology, I’m afraid all the promises Jiali made today won’t come true. Do you want me to hand you over?”
The construct golem suddenly sprang up from the table—startling Moriel. The golem floated lightly in the air, its dark metal body covered in a layer of faint blue light. Its four long arms rose slightly, with sharp claws opening and closing like blades, emitting a clanging sound of metal friction.

“How did you do it?” Moriel asked, looking at the golem’s now clearly soulful dark eyes.
“It’s simple. When a robot has all its parts assembled, it still needs electricity to function.” Si Qishi watched contentedly as the golem floated around the room silently, not even stirring a speck of dust.
“Electricity? What electricity? What does that have to do with lightning? Wait… are you saying…” Moriel suddenly understood.
She slapped her forehead. “You activated this golem with your own energy? Oh, that won’t work. The red-robed mages won’t be satisfied with that. They’re insatiable and will keep digging deeper. It’ll only cause more trouble…”
The golem halted mid-air, then fell to the ground, returning to its chaotic state of random movement—until Si Qishi stepped on it hard, silencing it again.
“I didn’t provide any energy. I’m not its mother.” Si Qishi kicked the golem into a corner. “If a weapon is to be used in battle, it either has to be incredibly powerful or simple and cheap—something that delivers value for its cost. If it can’t do either, it’s not worth it… Hey, you’re a mage. You should figure this out. Besides, that bald guy didn’t expect you to achieve results by tomorrow, did he?”
Moriel’s eyes shifted.
“Yes, anyway, it’s always me who has to fix the mess you create.” Her tone became much lighter. “Come on, I want to have a drink now.”