Chapter 314: The Mining City of Undercurrents (1/2)

Crookes was a mining city within the bowels of the Valla Empire. Mount Meredith, which stood over its rear was where the citizens of Crookes mined excellent Illum crystals and a fine variety of surface ores, which was perhaps how Crookes got its name, which meant ‘rich mountain capital’ in an ancient tongue

In the beginning, this place was a wilderness, but after the founding of the Valla Empire who conferred it to Tyler Meredith-an avid explorer and a noble, he discovered scores of rich mineral veins on the unnamed mountain, and began to organize groups of people to mine everything

He later named the unnamed mountain after himself, which eventually became one of the most important mountain mines of the Valla Empire.

In its early days, Crookes was just a flock of wooden houses where the miners lived, but as Mount Meredith’s fame grew, more and more people came, perfectly away that Illum crystals had more utility than gold in many places. Hence, in less than two hundred years, the shacks at the foot of the mountain was continuously expanded and refurbished into a new city.

And even though Crookes did not really prosper as well as trade cities like Lancaster, it was far better at generating wealth.

In turn, the Meredith family who still ruled over Crookes were naturally so rich they could hold their own against nations.

Old Meredith was himself a firm monarchist. That being said, he inherited his faith in Grimund, the God of Travel and Arts from Tyler Meredith himself, even though that religion had no proper religious buildings and was a true neutral through and through.

That was precisely why the imperial family trusted the Meredith family. Coupled with old Meredith’s reputation, Crookes was as steady as a rock in many ways.

Even so, there would always be undercurrents beneath such stability-and the reason was simple: Old Meredith had no heir aside from one daughter, who had died to illness long ago.

The family’s fear of the imperial family also kept them from forming alliances through marriage, which kept them from having some complex family relations and each generation was basically a single vertical line. That being said, if their pocketbooks were not loaded and their yearly tithe of Illum crystals to their god and their emperor, the family would have long since vanished from sight.

Even so, Old Meredith was a mortal with a limited lifespan. He was now a mere candle in the wind despite his divine blessings, and was about to reach his end.

If things went on like this and he passes away, everything the Meredith family had and the ownership of Crookes would be reclaimed by the imperial family. With such ample rewards in sight, there were certainly elements too eager to put their hands into the proverbial cookie jar.

As long as Old Meredith would write a will before his demise with the gods as his witness, the person named would inherit a huge chunk of his fortune and ownership of Crookes (minus the portion which the imperial family would take away, bypassing a sanctified will through takes or other due causes)!

***

The main bedroom of the Crookes’ mayoral residence.

“Mister Meredith, there hasn’t been much change in your condition.”

An acolyte from the Temple of Life took off his arcane tool that resembled a stethoscope and spoke to the shriveled old man lying helpless in his bed like a dry corpse. “Like I’ve said before, although the elven stone embedded on your heart does slow aging, it is defective and the energy within is fading…”

The acolyte paused then, as if hesitating if he should continue.

“Don’t hold back. Just tell me how much time I have left.” The old man said.

“Your aging is severe, and from how things look at the moment, the elven stone might still last for around a year.” The acolyte answered truthfully, unafraid of getting caught in an outburst since Old Meredith had the positive reputation of not being your typical callous noble. “If you could find a perfect elven stone in a year and change it with the one you have, you might live a little longer.”

“That’s not happening. You don’t have to console me on that.” The old man smiled, but his shrivel face was slightly horrific instead of friendly. “One year, huh…”

The acolyte had become silent as well, realizing that his kind words were meaningless.

Ultimately, the elven stone were treasures of legends on par with the philosopher’s stone forged only by mythical high elven royals. Each of them has the power of resurrection and extend a person’s lifespan, or even ascend a mortal to a supernatural race called the blood elves.

Be that as it may, the high elves were extinct, while the wood elves who were their direct descendants couldn’t even maintain a tenth of high elf arts, let alone other elven races.