Ch.241Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

# On a Snowy December Night

Snowflakes glitter in the December night. The fierce wind rattles the windows, and moonlight illuminates the city shrouded in deep blue darkness.

The siren announcing the curfew imposed by the Military Government Headquarters echoes from afar, carried by the wind.

A broken city where knife-like winds and sharp echoes spread like ghostly wails. Francesca’s pale hand clutched a piece of cloth. With her robe pulled low, she walked ahead, and I quietly followed behind.

Ruins with vivid scars of war.

Beyond the alley filled with cold echoes and silence, a group of goblins stood with doors wide open, formally welcoming us.

A familiar goblin bowed in greeting.

It was the vice-chief of the Palm Tree Guild.

“You’ve arrived. We sincerely welcome you all back to our Palm Tree Guild.”

“……”

“Please come in. Master Hormoz is waiting for his guests.”

The goblins gestured politely toward the building.

Francesca and I followed their guidance, moving forward.

To catch the fox pretending to be a tiger.

## Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician in History

In the heroes of the Dark World, numerous races appear.

Humans, elves, orcs, goblins, dwarves, beastfolk, demons, devils, and so on. I think I saw something about angels and other races appearing on Namuwiki, but my memory is hazy so I can’t be sure if that’s a fact.

Countless races live together in harmony, whether in a positive or negative sense, and among them, the wise ones dedicate their lives to uncovering the secrets of the races inhabiting this world, secluded in graduate school research labs.

And in my judgment, the most peculiar race in this neighborhood is none other than the elves.

In our world, elves are known as “nature-loving environmental advocates who live close to eternity, dwelling among trees and singing of abundance and peace,” but the elves in this world are slightly different in character.

Guerrilla.

Sabotage.

Eco-fascism.

These three words represent the elves of this world.

Elves are terrorists and guerrillas who destroy railways and factories, assassinate politicians, and attack humans venturing into forests, all in the name of protecting the environment.

Living close to eternity with nature as their companion? That’s not wrong.

Except for the part where they’ve been conducting guerrilla warfare like the Viet Cong for hundreds of years, holed up in the great forest where the World Tree stands.

Singing of abundance and peace? This too is half-correct.

The World Tree and the great forest always maintain their green hue despite wizards casting curses that wither ancient trees into twisted firewood, artillery units firing chemical shells, and airships spraying defoliants from above. Even when the military sets the forest ablaze, lush greenery returns within hours, so it’s clear that elves live in abundance and peace.

It’s also true that they’re nature-friendly, shooting arrows that can pierce bulletproof vests while adventurers carry factory-made swords. And they’re certainly tree-huggers, valuing the World Tree more than their own lives.

Of course, they’re also environmentalists. All their mischief is carried out under the pretext of punishing humans who destroy the environment.

Though their direction is slightly askew, to the point where the entire race is treated as terrorists, guerrillas, and reactionaries, with hardly any country willing to accept elven immigration through normal channels.

Dark elves are a different story.

A race born in the desert, wandering the world.

Merchants who bring mysterious items from the far East, the essence of Orientalism.

Those who measure the value of all things in gold and blood, sometimes showing mercy by pouring cool water into the mouths of those dying in the desert, sometimes showing tenacity by crossing continents to exact revenge on their enemies.

That’s why dark elves are welcomed in this world, unlike those pale creatures.

But while I knew the habits of the dark elf race, I was ignorant about Hormoz specifically. I had no information.

Is he a fox playing king in a tiger-less cave, blinded by gold? Or is he a gambler who clearly knows the cards both he and his opponent hold?

Hormoz, who had invited us, greeted us with a smile that made his intentions difficult to guess.

“Welcome. I am Hormoz, chief of the Palm Tree Guild.”

After exchanging greetings, Hormoz gestured toward his quarters.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. Today you have visited not as guests of the guild, but as my personal guests, so I will treat you according to my race’s ancient traditions.”

We were clearly inside a building, yet simultaneously not inside a building.

Where Hormoz pointed, instead of a ceiling, there was a night sky flowing with stars, and instead of walls, a desert with a reddish glow stretched out.

We were sitting in the middle of the desert. Gathered around a gentle campfire, sheltered from sand, wind, and cold by a tent.

The scene, which looked as if nomads leading camels and mules might pass by at any moment, captivated Francesca’s attention. A sound like a groan escaped from between her lips.

“…Space transformation magic.”

Hormoz, who had been smiling, nodded affirmatively.

“You recognize it.”

“Why is this magic here?”

Space transformation magic literally transforms one space into another.

Like changing a building’s interior to an exterior as we see now, or transforming a small cave into a magnificent temple. It’s slightly different in concept from magic that expands space, like those used in Advanced Military Magic Research Institutes or other facilities.

Space transformation magic consists of much more complex and intricate formulas than space expansion magic, and is known to be among the more difficult types of magic. After all, completely altering the nature and form of something is a different dimension of problem than simply expanding it.

“I’ve never seen it owned by an individual before, except for the Imperial Royal Family, royal houses, and ancient wizard families.”

Hormoz answered in a calm tone.

“It was a gift from a benefactor who saved my life. It wasn’t acquired through dishonest means or obtained from wicked individuals, so please don’t worry.”

“A legacy of great wizards that even Oracle couldn’t reproduce, given as a gift by someone?”

“Precisely. Though to clarify one thing, rather than receiving it as a gift, I would say I traded for it.”

A gift is something given to another with pure goodwill, expecting nothing in return. Conversely, a trade means you must return what you’ve received.

So Hormoz received this rare magic—possessed only by the Imperial Family, royal houses, and descendants of great wizards like the Ranieri family—as payment in a trade with “someone.”

Does that make any sense?

“……”

I stared at the dark elf whom I couldn’t figure out, but Hormoz merely muttered with a face of shameless composure.

“It was a good trade. At least, that’s what I thought until recently.”

“……”

“Well, I might have gotten the short end of the stick after all.”

Clap. Hormoz’s palms met.

Having cleared the air with a clap, Hormoz sat down as the host.

“It’s been a while since I’ve welcomed guests, so you might find my hospitality lacking. I’ll do my best to entertain you, so please make yourselves comfortable.”

*

As promised at the beginning, Hormoz welcomed us as guests. Following the ancient traditions of the nomadic dark elves, he lavishly entertained Francesca and me who had visited his quarters.

Seated in the desert tent, we began by drinking the tea Hormoz offered.

“What would the lady prefer? Coffee? Or tea?”

“I’ll have coffee.”

“And the gentleman?”

“Tea for me, please.”

Hormoz smiled and responded.

“As it happens, I have some excellent tea imported from the East. It’s been less than three days since the tribal elders sent this tea, so you’ll be the first gentleman to taste it.”

At the guild chief’s gesture, the vice-chief gave orders. The goblin, second in power only to Hormoz, directed the guild employees who efficiently brought out refreshments.

Francesca, true to her Fatalian heritage, requested coffee, while Hormoz began pouring tea.

“My homeland, the Moritani continent, is not suitable for tea cultivation.”

A strangely shaped glass cup filled with tea.

“Tea cultivation requires adequate sunlight, consistent rainfall, and a cool climate. Tea cannot be grown in the desert with its scorching sun. Yet tea now generates more profit than any other commodity in the Moritani continent.”

Hormoz first took a sip of the tea himself. Then he posed a question to me.

“Do you know why that is?”

“Because dark elves introduced tea to the Moritani continent.”

“Correct. You’re well-informed.”

The dark elf guild chief checked the aroma and taste of the tea, then poured tea into a new cup. It was my portion.

Jordan, was it? When I visited a Bedouin home, the host did exactly what Hormoz is doing now. They have a culture where the host first checks the tea to be served to guests, and if deemed acceptable, offers it to them.

Having apparently decided it was acceptable to serve me the tea, Hormoz handed it to me.

“Thank you.”

I took a sip of the tea from the East that Hormoz mentioned.

Something filled my mouth with a flowery sensation, and my entire mouth felt refreshed, almost like…

“……”

“What’s wrong?”

“…This tea tastes like toothpaste. What is this?”

“That’s how this tea is supposed to taste. Is it not to your liking?”

“……”

Hormoz smiled as he drank the terrible tea that was worse than factory wastewater. It was a genuine smile of enjoyment, not one meant to trick me.

“……”

I began pressing my temples due to the sudden fatigue that washed over me.

Francesca silently savored her coffee, apparently enjoying the taste, while Hormoz committed the terrible act of emptying his cup of the awful mint-flavored tea and then refilling it from the teapot.

It seems I’ll need to bring Camilla to seriously deal with this dark-skinned fellow. The British are traditionally hard counters to black people.

Though the terrible mint tea ruined my palate, apart from that, Hormoz’s hospitality was flawless.

In the desert tent, he offered us the best items he had.

“This is yogurt sent from our Saria tribe. You must be hungry, so please eat before it gets cold.”

Yogurt made from sheep’s milk hand-squeezed by the dark elves of Saria. Traditional Moritani continent bread. Lamb dishes seasoned with spicy herbs.

Tearing the freshly baked bread with my hands, placing a piece of lamb on it, and dipping it in yogurt filled my mouth with the rich flavors of the Middle East. Adding the moist bread soaked in the meat’s seasoning from beneath the plate made it perfect.

“…Ah, this brings back memories.”

I quickly devoured the simple meal Hormoz had prepared.

The hospitality didn’t end there.

“I’m glad it suits your taste. Do you smoke?”

“Do you have a hookah?”

“Of course. I’ll have it prepared right away.”

At my request, the guild’s goblins brought out a hookah. Having finished a hearty meal, I enjoyed the shisha with Hormoz, seated around the campfire.

“Sssip-“

Drawing in air forcefully, smoke infused with fruit flavors filled my lungs.

The smoke traveled down the glass tube, through the apparatus, and straight into my lungs. I exhaled the inhaled smoke through my nose, savoring the fruity aroma.

“…Oh.”

Is this the desert or heaven?

Special tea, a hearty meal, and a post-meal hookah.

Hormoz had definitely delivered on his promise of hospitality. Even to me, who had spent years in the Middle East, it was flawless.

Honestly, at this point, I wondered if we could just go home, but…

“…Officer.”

Feeling Francesca’s disapproving gaze, I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

“I’m sorry. Did I enjoy myself too much?”

“You’ve been smoking that hookah for over 30 minutes in front of the guild chief, so of course you should be sorry.”

“Hahaha…”

I laughed awkwardly and handed the hookah to Hormoz.

“We’re guests, Francesca. Mr. Hormoz welcomed us as a host, not as a guild chief. He’s the kind of person who would allow us to stay overnight and talk tomorrow if we asked. Right?”

“Of course.”

Hormoz drew on the hookah with a pleased smile.

Billowing smoke flowed from between the dark elf’s lips, and a deep fruity aroma that aromatherapy couldn’t match filled the tent.

Having savored the shisha, Hormoz spoke to Francesca in a gentle tone.

“As the officer said, dark elf hospitality is thoroughly tailored to our guests. When welcoming travelers crossing the desert, we can’t help but be considerate of our guests. If you need to rest from your journey, please don’t hesitate and feel free to stay. I always respect you both.”

“See?”

“……”

Francesca’s cold eyes shot toward me.

“…Ahem.”

Clearing my throat lightly to change the atmosphere, I enjoyed the shisha one last time, then exhaled the smoke and began.

“Alright. I’ve received enough hospitality, so let’s get to the main point.”

*

The lavish reception with refreshments, meals, and shisha came to an end.

In a tent in the middle of the desert under the starry sky, we gathered around the campfire and began our conversation.

In fact, there wasn’t much to discuss.

“I arranged this meeting because I have something important to tell you regarding the information you inquired about at the guild previously and the recent events in the north.”

Hormoz, the owner of the Palm Tree Guild and a dark elf of the Saria tribe.

Having welcomed us as a host, he continued in a rather serious tone.

“First, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

There are many reasons why nomadic tribes entertain guests, but the two main ones are:

First, the relationship between host and guest.

The host and guest are not in a vertical structure like an absolute superior-subordinate relationship.

When living a nomadic life in the desert, one inevitably encounters others, whether intentionally or not. Since nomadic tribes don’t always live in comfortable situations, they sometimes need help from others or other tribes.

Therefore, nomadic tribes lavishly entertain guests, believing that when they themselves are in crisis, others will show them the same kindness they once showed. After all, that guest might someday become a host to someone else.

Second, the importance of the guest themselves.

Living in a tribal community all one’s life, one occasionally becomes curious about news from the outside world. Guests from cities and distant foreign lands serve as windows through which nomadic tribes can learn about the world, providing them with various pieces of information.

But one cannot simply demand information without offering something in return. As the saying goes, even Diamond Mountain is best viewed after a meal. Nomadic tribes show their sincerity by entertaining guests, and in return, guests share the information they possess. It’s a kind of implicit barter.

Incidentally, obtaining information from travelers was a method favored by ancient intelligence agencies (though intelligence agencies themselves emerged after the World Wars, primitive forms of intelligence activities existed since ancient times).

Even during the Cold War, Western intelligence agencies gathered various information by interviewing civilians who had visited Eastern Bloc countries.

So, Hormoz, in his capacity as host, asked us, his guests, a question.

“I heard that the Military Government Headquarters recently conducted a major crackdown on criminal organizations. They were all organizations connected to the black market in the north. If my thinking is correct…”

“Are you asking if we orchestrated it?”

“Yes.”

At Hormoz’s answer, Francesca and I looked at each other.

After exchanging glances briefly, I turned to Hormoz and answered.

“We didn’t orchestrate it, but we did intend it.”

There’s no issue with the Military Government Headquarters cracking down on criminal organizations. The north is currently in a special situation, and the Imperial Family has granted the Military Government Headquarters extensive authority by declaring martial law. That power is so immense it allows them to put bullets in citizens’ heads without trial.

However,

“As a diplomat, I have never interfered with the Military Government Headquarters’ command structure. The same goes for the administrator. We have not directly intervened in the crackdown operation conducted by the Military Government Headquarters.”

My actions as an Abas diplomat in influencing the Military Government Commander could potentially be problematic, depending on interpretation. Not a major issue, just enough for the Empire to expel a few Abas diplomats along with me in a wholesale manner?

It can’t be helped. While it’s a peacekeeping activity for the Imperial Military Police to execute criminals, if the act of putting bullets in citizens’ heads resulted from a foreigner’s instigation, it could be interpreted as interference in internal affairs.

It might seem like the same thing, but there’s a clear difference between “ah” and “uh.”

Fortunately, I had the skill to gloss over the facts and quickly handle matters. Like assassinating someone and disguising it as a gangster killing, or instigating conflict between tribes with poor relations. These skills came naturally after roaming abroad on Intelligence Command orders.

“…I see.”

Hormoz muttered as if he could now be certain.

While he nodded and fell into thought, Francesca spoke up, and I quickly grabbed the hookah to inhale some smoke.

…Ah, this is killer. Smoking after 30 years really hits different.

“Guild Chief.”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember the information our side requested previously?”

Hormoz nodded.

“Information about someone in the north who deals with black magic and can distribute it. More specifically, the identity of the person who gave terrorists the barrier with traces of black magic found at the terror site in Abas. Is my memory correct?”

“Precisely.”

A suspicious merchant who provided black magic to terrorists in the no-man’s land. There’s peculiar information about unchanging appearance despite decades passing and taking children somewhere, but nothing to estimate their identity.

Except for one thing: they speak Kiyenese.

That’s why we came north and requested information from Hormoz. He refused once, but here we are meeting again.

“……”

Hormoz exhaled hookah smoke and sighed. I carefully took the hookah he set down and took another puff.

“As you said, I’ve made inquiries. With some results. And I’m willing to sell that information to you, if you accept my ‘proposal’.”

“…By proposal, you mean?”

“Payment. The fair price I’ll receive from you for selling the information.”

Speaking in a serious voice, Hormoz’s golden eyes began to shine through the thick smoke.

“What I ask of you is simple.”

“Please tell us, Guild Chief.”

“Acknowledge the position I currently enjoy here.”