Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Several fine, unusual keratinous scales were faintly visible on its neck, and the white breath it exhaled while panting carried a burning sensation.

This is a hybrid horse that clearly has some bloodlines from resilient magical beasts, and its speed, stamina, and intimidation far surpass those of ordinary mounts.

They swept across the avenue like a whirlwind and were the first to arrive at the front of the square.

He raised the coat of arms, representing the viscount's authority, and gave a short, forceful shout to signal that the procession was about to arrive.

The hundreds of Viscount's guards, who had been waiting there for a long time, seemed to be guided by invisible threads, and their movements became perfectly synchronized in an instant.

With a "whoosh" sound.

The rustling of armor and the shifting of footsteps swiftly and effectively drove away the curious onlookers and bystanders.

A large, clean open space was cleared in the center of the square, and two people stood solemnly on either side, forming an imposing human wall passage.

Immediately afterwards, a light dust rose on the horizon, and the Viscount's grand procession returning home came into view.

The rumbling of wheels rolling over stone slabs, the neighing of horses with mixed bloodlines, and the occasional crisp sound of metal plates colliding gradually converged into a powerful marching symphony.

All the direct and collateral bloodlines of the Fran family had long been arranged according to a strict order of seniority and kinship, under the meticulous command of the steward Sebastian.

Before the imposing gates of the mansion, they stood in neat rows, holding their breath and waiting for the patriarch's return.

Following instructions, Solo stood silently at the very back of the line of direct descendants.

His simple attire stood out starkly against the backdrop of a group of meticulously dressed young men and women trying their best to impress, his figure almost completely obscured by the throng of heads in front of him.

It wasn't that he was dressed very simply, but rather that the people around him were dressed too extravagantly.

The first to arrive at the core area was the Viscount's vanguard cavalry, numbering about thirty men.

They were all highly skilled, with eyes as sharp as eagles, and their equipment was top-notch.

They wore sharp, standard-issue longswords at their waists and carried heavy shields and axes on their backs.

Or they might carry a sleek, well-maintained flintlock musket on their back, with a powerful crossbow hanging beside their saddle.

They moved swiftly and silently, spreading out to occupy the high points and key entrances around the square.

A cold gaze swept across the crowd, ensuring absolute safety.

They were the backbone of the Viscount's armed forces, an elite guard second only to the extraordinary regular knights.

Then comes the core of the team.

The Viscount's large main carriage was made of dark, precious wood, inlaid with the family crest, and with windows covered by light silk curtains.

Surrounded by twelve knights, it slowly drove into the center of the square.

These twelve knights were fundamentally different from the previous elite guards.

They all exuded a deep and solemn aura, and their movements were so coordinated that they seemed to be one person.

Their armor was not made of ordinary steel; its surface was engraved with complex and strangely beautiful dark blue runes.

Although it is not fully activated at this moment, it still faintly glows in the sunlight, clearly possessing some extraordinary properties.

The horses they rode were even more extraordinary, not only larger in size, but also with a wild, almost intelligent gleam in their eyes.

The sound of horseshoes pounding the ground was dull and muffled, like the beating of a drum. Occasionally, they would impatiently shake their heads and neigh, the sound of which was extremely penetrating.

With a subtle but imposing aura, it made even the ordinary rickety horses pulling carts nearby restless and uneasy.

These were the Viscount's most trusted personal guards, twelve true knights who possessed extraordinary powers.

The carriage came to a smooth stop.

A guard nimbly dismounted and respectfully opened the carriage door.

Viscount Franz, the ruler of Fjord Island, stepped down from his carriage.

He was over forty years old, but still had a tall and straight figure. His face was like a rock sculpted by the sea breeze and power, with distinct features and hard lines.

His long tenure in a high position gave him an imposing presence, and his deep-set eyes held a pair of sharp, hawk-like gray-blue eyes.

Although there was a hint of fatigue from the long journey, the sight of them still exuded an invisible pressure.

He had a neatly trimmed short beard, and his temples were already showing signs of frost.

He wore a deep purple travel cloak embroidered with the gold Fran family crest, revealing a lightweight yet remarkably protective soft armor lining underneath.

He wore a longsword with an antique scabbard and a hilt inlaid with dark gemstones at his waist. It seemed like an ornament, but no one dared to underestimate its sharpness.

He stood still, as if a mountain had landed, his gaze sweeping steadily over the crowd that had lined up to greet him.

His gaze swept steadily and quickly across the faces that were either excited, submissive, or expectant.

It only lingered for a moment on Solo, who was inconspicuous at the very end of the group.

He didn't pay much attention to the child who had only been at the viscount's residence for less than a year.

More than a month of running around and handling various matters.

It was clear that he had exhausted a lot of energy, and the weariness between his brows was hard to completely hide.

But to many people's surprise, the viscount did not immediately step into the mansion to enjoy comfort and rest. Instead, he paused briefly and then turned around.

They walked toward the few smaller but equally exquisitely decorated and well-sealed carriages at the back of the convoy.

When he faced the carriages, he deliberately adjusted his expression and suppressed his imposing manner.

He put on a warm, encouraging smile.

The carriage doors were opened one by one by the accompanying guards.

More than ten children, mostly around fifteen or sixteen years old, both boys and girls, got off the bus one by one, some nervous and some reserved.

Their clothing was clearly of a uniform style:

The boy wore a simple linen shirt with dark overalls, while the girl wore a plain dress with a gray cardigan over it.

Although it was starched and washed clean, the fabric was ordinary and the style was limited.

Compared to the fine silks and elaborate clothing of the surrounding Fran family members, their attire appeared exceptionally simple, even somewhat shabby.

Most of them had a slightly pale complexion, and their eyes showed signs of dizziness and discomfort from the long journey by boat and carriage.

And the unease of suddenly facing a grand scene and many strangers, as well as a sense of bewilderment and faint hope for the unknown future.

They huddled together, like a flock of fledglings leaving the nest, instinctively seeking comfort from their companions.

The viscount smiled and slowly swept his gaze over the children, as if inspecting a batch of newly arrived, promising seedlings.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the faces of several older children, some with upright postures, others with relatively calm eyes and delicate features.

He nodded slightly at them, his smile deepening slightly—a clear signal of appreciation.

That evening, a grand banquet was held in the magnificent main hall of the mansion to welcome the Viscount's return and formally accept the new member.

The crystal chandelier illuminated the entire hall as if it were daytime, and the portraits of ancestors hanging on the walls appeared solemn and dignified under the light.

The long dining table was covered with a snow-white linen tablecloth with gold trim, and the matching silver cutlery and crystal glasses gleamed.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, the sweetness of baked goods, and the complex fragrance of precious spices.