Chapter 355: It Has Finally Begun (1)
The Mage Tower Exchange.
This was a major event that had been held among the mage towers for countless years. It was a gathering where mages from various towers shared knowledge, engaged in discussions, and demonstrated their skills, a so-called “elegant and refined” event, as they liked to describe it.
Because mages from different schools came together, there was much to gain from the interactions. Typically, mages, being naturally closed-off, rarely had the opportunity to learn about other fields of magic. Their notorious stubbornness often prevented such exchanges.
Mages were reluctant to share their own knowledge and only sought to acquire that of others. This self-serving attitude had led the predecessors to initiate the exchange with noble intentions, but over time, even this event had gradually lost its momentum.
The situation was worse among members of the same school of magic. Mages were constantly wary, unsure of who might surpass them next. If two members of the same school didn’t get along, they avoided each other for life.
The relationship between the Crimson Flame Tower and the Scarlet Tower was a perfect example of this enmity. Yet now, Delmud, the tower master of the Scarlet Tower, had brought up the notion of holding an exchange with their rival.
Elder Glenn replied with a troubled expression.
“Do you think they would… agree to such a proposal?”
“They must. And if they refuse, then disrupt their operations until they have no choice but to comply.”
Delmud had a specific reason for insisting on the exchange. The event always included contests between the disciples of the mage towers.
Of course, the tower masters and elders themselves refrained from participating in these contests. Losing would severely damage their tower’s prestige and reputation. Hence, it was customary for them to abstain.
However, customs were not rules. Delmud intended to exploit this loophole, participate personally, and seize the opportunity to eliminate everyone who opposed him.
“Make it happen no matter what. If we continue like this, we’ll lose ground before the civil war even begins.”
The prestige of a mage tower was determined by the circle level of its tower master. However, its business capabilities and territorial influence were judged by different metrics.
The Crimson Flame Tower, a traditional powerhouse, surpassed the Scarlet Tower in artifact and potion production techniques and had a greater number of disciples. They even had more elders who had reached the 5th Circle than the Scarlet Tower.
“We can no longer claim to have the upper hand financially.”
Delmud’s own achievement of reaching the 7th Circle was insufficient to turn the tide. They had managed to push back against the Crimson Flame Tower so far thanks to the financial support of Count Desmond, who had monopolized the rune stone market in the North.
However, Count Fenris, the wealthiest noble in the North, was now backing the Crimson Flame Tower. While Delmud’s side had support from a ducal family, the sheer difference in scale was staggering.
The thought made Delmud grind his teeth in frustration.
“What in the world is Count Raypold doing?”
With Count Desmond gone, Amelia, the new lord of the Raypold Estate, should have been supporting them instead. Despite the harsh conditions in the northern territories, Raypold was a large estate with more than enough resources to aid them.
Yet, not a single gold coin had arrived from Raypold. On the contrary, Amelia offered excuses, claiming that they, too, needed support from the ducal family due to the difficult circumstances.
Glenn clicked his tongue, his face contorted in annoyance.
“That foolish woman lucked her way into becoming a lord and now struggles to manage the estate. She doesn’t understand the bigger picture. She doesn’t even know what’s truly important. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Is there no other communication from her?”
“None. I’ve met her several times, but she keeps repeating the same excuses about the rebellion and asks us to wait a little longer.”
Glenn had personally visited Amelia on several occasions to request her support for the Scarlet Tower, stepping in for the late Count Desmond. However, Amelia’s continued delays were infuriating.
Delmud’s face also darkened with anger as frustration bubbled within him. Everything seemed to be going wrong, hindering their plans.
Meanwhile, Raul, the ducal envoy, was pressuring them to neutralize the Crimson Flame Tower as quickly as possible.
“It’s all because of Count Fenris.”
Although Amelia was a nuisance, the true thorn in their side was Count Fenris. Ever since he defeated Count Desmond, everything had spiraled out of control.
Despite the reduced support, they couldn’t defy the orders of the ducal family. They owed them too much. Even Delmud’s ascension to the 7th Circle had been thanks to their backing.
Ultimately, with a deep sigh, Delmud decided to resort to the option he had been avoiding.
“If they reject the exchange, target every client and vendor associated with the Crimson Flame Tower. Cause trouble wherever possible, and kill a few mages if necessary. Force them to accept.”
The Elders’ Concession
At Delmud’s words, all the elders nodded with grim expressions.
It wasn’t impossible to crush the Crimson Flame Tower by force. However, doing so would draw the suspicion of not only Count Fenris but also the Royal Faction allied with him.
Still, there was no other option. They had to eliminate the Crimson Flame Tower before the civil war began.
Since they had resolved to resolve things by force if the situation worsened, they now had to plan for what would happen after the tower was destroyed.
“If we destroy the Crimson Flame Tower by force, the Royal Faction will undoubtedly pressure us. Meet with Amelia again and secure her support, no matter what it takes, to ensure we can endure until the civil war begins.”
Glenn, who handled the tower’s diplomacy, nodded. It didn’t matter what the Royal Faction did; they only needed to hold out until the civil war erupted.
Afterward, they planned to sweep everything away with the Ducal Faction’s nobles backing them.
With that, they began preparing for their confrontation with the Crimson Flame Tower.
***
When Ghislain returned to his estate, he was met with indifference. By now, it seemed that no one was particularly worried when he left or returned.
Only the estate’s residents appeared genuinely happy to see their lord come back.
Still, Claude stood out from the other retainers. His eyes sparkled as he spoke.
“Give it to me.”
“What?”
“You must have brought something back again, right? You always do.”
“……”
He was now being outright treated as a thief. Ghislain might have looked like a bandit at times, but he found the assumption deeply unjust. He had never outright stolen anything without reason.
After a moment of twitching his lips, Ghislain curtly replied.
“There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you seriously saying you didn’t bring anything back? Not even money?”
“That’s right. What, did you leave money with me or something?”
The estate had grown so large that it was hard to pinpoint where spies might be lurking. As such, he hadn’t yet revealed the acquisition of Dark. Even when he eventually did, he planned to reveal Dark’s abilities little by little.
Especially Dark’s mental abilities, which he intended to keep hidden for as long as possible. That way, when the time comes where Elois would deploys his magic, Ghislain could deliver a counterstrike.
The same went for future military operations. When the civil war began, he would only inform his closest confidants.
Even Arel had been strictly instructed to keep quiet.
However, unaware of Ghislain’s deeper intentions, Claude wore an extremely disappointed expression.
“Then… what was the point of going out?”
Ghislain going out and returning empty-handed? That was a failure. It went against every expectation.
Claude turned his head and muttered under his breath.
“So, the lord actually comes back empty-handed sometimes. First time seeing him fail. Should’ve bet on that. Eh, the lord’s losing his touch. It’s over. Can’t even plunder anymore. What good is he? It’s not like he’s known for his personality.”
‘This bastard?’
Though muttered, Ghislain could hear him clearly. Claude’s grating remarks were starting to get on his nerves. Ghislain began rolling up his sleeves.
He had already been thinking about “educating” Claude after the nonsense he had written for Arel’s introduction. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity.
“I did bring back something.”
“Oh? Really? What is it? Show me!”
“I learned something: for some, violence is the ultimate truth.”
“…?”
Smack!
“Kyahhh!”
As Ghislain’s fist landed, Claude let out a shrill scream and tried to run away. Wendy, standing nearby, instinctively stepped aside.
Of course, Claude had no hope of escaping from Ghislain. Grabbing the back of his neck, Ghislain began pummeling him relentlessly, kicking up dust like it was a rainy day.
“Hey! Why would you teach the kid something like that? What kind of introduction is ‘madness’? What? Madness?”
“Ah, c’mon! Did I say anything wrong? You’re the local lunatic — ow! Okay, I’m sorry!”
Despite Ghislain increasing the intensity of his strikes, Claude’s mouth kept running. As Ghislain continued to hit him, a thought crossed his mind.
‘This guy… his endurance is improving?’
It was baffling. Despite being considered one of the weakest in the estate alongside Alfoi, Claude was withstanding a level of “education” previously reserved for knights-in-training.
‘At this point, I’m using the same strength when training the knights.’
Forced to increase his strength further, Ghislain finally made Claude surrender.
“Stop! Stop hitting me! I won’t do it again!”
“Hah… I feel much better now.”
Looking at Claude, who was wiping his eyes and sniffling, Ghislain let out a satisfied sigh.
While the others might have been more satisfying to hit, Claude remained the best for relieving stress. After all, no one else could get on his nerves quite like Claude.
Deciding that this session of “mental education” was sufficient, Ghislain spoke in a disinterested tone.
“Call everyone. I need a report on the estate’s situation.”
“Sniff… Sure thing.”
At Ghislain’s command, the retainers were quickly assembled. However, a few seats were conspicuously empty.
“Huh? Where’s Alfoi? And some others seem to be missing too,” Ghislain asked, his gaze sweeping across the room.
The retainers exchanged awkward glances, smiling uncomfortably. Finally, Claude scratched his head and responded.
“He’s been busy with something lately. You’ll probably see him in a bit.”
“Really? He’s actually working hard?”
The retainers all nodded hesitantly, their expressions betraying mixed feelings. Alfoi was indeed engaged in something though it was unclear whether “hard work” was the right way to describe it.
Curious but choosing to set the matter aside for now, Ghislain began receiving reports on the estate’s affairs.
Everything was running smoothly as usual. Among the many developments, the rapidly growing stockpile of potions stood out the most.
“Oh… This is faster than I expected.”
Numerous potion manufacturing facilities had sprung up near the magic research lab. The Fenris Estate had become a master in construction, rivaling any other territory in its efficiency.
Thanks to the combined efforts of mages, dwarves, and skilled laborers, dozens of potion manufacturing facilities had been built in no time.
“Wow, there are even more mages now?”
The number of mages working in the magic research lab had grown to nearly seventy. This was largely due to Claude’s relentless recruiting efforts he’d practically snatched up every mage who set foot in the Fenris Estate.
Mages were inherently self-centered and individualistic. As a result, when new mages arrived, the existing ones pretended not to care and didn’t interfere. Truthfully, there was so much work to be done that the more hands they had, the better.
Before they knew it, the Fenris Estate had become a small mage tower in its own right. With ample resources, potion production was progressing at a remarkable pace.
“At this rate, we’ll soon be able to supply each soldier with at least one potion. Our goal of two per soldier will be reached in no time.”
The speed of progress was undeniably a good thing, but it was happening far faster than Ghislain had anticipated. Curious about the methods being used, he decided to inspect the facilities.
“Is Alfoi really working that hard? With so many potions being produced and him missing meetings, he must be.”
“Well… yes, he’s certainly working hard,” Claude replied, forcing another awkward smile.
“Wow, who’d have thought? He’s finally turned over a new leaf. That’s not like him at all.”
Ghislain’s remark drew yet another uncomfortable laugh from Claude.
When Ghislain arrived at the magic research lab and potion manufacturing facilities, he was greeted by an unexpected sight. Mages were toiling away with grim expressions, their exhaustion plainly visible.
“Ugh… I feel like I’m going to die.”
“This cursed estate… treating mages like this….”
“I just want to run away. Let me escape….”
Their teeth gnashed in frustration, but their hands kept working diligently. Ghislain, observing the scene, couldn’t help but marvel.
“What in the world did they do to make mages work this hard?”
Mages, with their notoriously individualistic tendencies, would never work like this regardless of rewards. Their expressions alone were proof that they weren’t particularly happy.
Typically, Ghislain’s approach to dealing with mages had involved beating them into submission, essentially turning them into slaves. Yet here they were, working diligently even in his absence.
There had to be a different method behind this transformation.
“Could Vanessa have done this?”
The thought crossed Ghislain’s mind briefly before he dismissed it. Vanessa was an excellent scholar but not a skilled administrator.
And even if she were motivating them by teaching magic, the atmosphere would’ve been entirely different.
While Ghislain pondered this mystery, commotion erupted at the entrance as a group stormed in.
“Hey, you bastard! Who said you could try to run? Huh? Do you have a death wish? If you don’t finish your quota by today, I’ll report you to the research director and have you punished with mana absorption. Got it? The rest of you, pick up the pace! We’re running double shifts today. If the quotas aren’t met, you’re all dead! Understand?”
The one shouting was none other than Alfoi. A mage dangled helplessly from his hand, and a strange armband adorned his left arm.
The armband bore a terrifying design, a symbol of bondage and control, complete with a depiction of a slave brand tied with ropes.
Ghislain blinked at the unfamiliar armband before speaking up.
“Alfoi…?”
“Oh, you’re back, my lord,” Alfoi replied nonchalantly. His demeanor had changed significantly since the last time Ghislain saw him.
His expression was sharper, almost menacing, and a rough, domineering aura radiated from him.
It wasn’t just Alfoi. Behind him stood five other mages, each wearing a similar armband, though theirs were blue while Alfoi’s was orange.
Ghislain immediately recognized them, as were the mages he had initially enslaved after capturing them from the Crimson Flame Tower.
Somehow, during his absence, these individuals had started wearing armbands and wielding unofficial authority over the others.