Ch.288Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

# “The magicians are in turmoil.”

Juan Pablo Martinez’s voice dropped low. Though he was renowned for his stoicism even within the Secretariat’s Office of Policy Coordination, today the atmosphere was colder than ever.

And for good reason—since dawn, all sorts of people had been coming to trouble him.

“I’ve heard the news. People went to see you again today to protest. This time it was… the Thaumaturgy School, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct, Lady Ranieri.”

It had been several days since the Inquisition’s forces had been combing through the areas where magicians resided, conducting investigations with meticulous detail.

The Grand Magician, revered by everyone registered with the Magic Tower, the Duke of the North, had permitted this.

And then the appearance of a necromancer on top of that.

It was no wonder the magicians were anxious, given that the Inquisition—which had hunted mysteries and suppressed magic for thousands of years—and the Imperial Magic Department were watching with burning vigilance.

So it was only natural that the Magic Tower’s magicians would raise their anxious and worried complaints to Juan Pablo Martinez. After all, civil servants exist to resolve the hardships of tax-paying citizens, and the same applied to the Magic Tower.

However, the fact that they had rushed to protest to Martinez, the nominal head, rather than to herself, who held the highest rank among the Secretariat personnel dispatched to the North…

The sight of them raising their voices against someone from a family with no notable history, not wanting to antagonize the descendant of the Grand Magician whom they revered…

To Francesca, it was nothing short of amusing.

Thus, with a smile bordering on mockery, she offered words of comfort.

“You have it tough as well.”

“Receiving complaints from the Schools is something I’ve always done, so there’s no need for your concern.”

“But?”

“The atmosphere is not normal.”

Martinez began his report in a calm tone. A voice devoid of joy, despair, fatigue, or anxiety.

“I’ve confirmed that the School executives have sent a letter to the Magic Tower. It appears they will request a re-examination by the Imperial Magic Department of parts of the recently discovered corpse, as well as evidence proving that a necromancer is active in the North, and an inspection of said evidence.”

“Is this an official protest?”

“Nothing has been officially decided yet. Neither the Schools nor the Oracle have taken a position.”

If one were to express that voice as a melody, it would probably sound like the same notes being repeatedly struck at identical intervals.

Having inadvertently thought of this, Francesca nodded. Then, with her chin resting on her hand, she blurted out without much consideration:

“Then there’s no need to worry about it.”

“However…”

“The three major Schools and the Oracle haven’t taken a position, and neither have the other Schools. Does the Secretariat need to take the initiative?”

“But the magicians are anxious, aren’t they?”

Martinez, with his hands neatly folded, said:

“The identity of the killer who murdered the magicians remains a mystery. The Inquisition is searching the North with a fine-tooth comb, and the Empire is standing by. On top of that, there’s evidence of both undead and what appears to be a necromancer’s corpse. Coincidentally, both pieces of evidence were discovered by the Inquisition.”

“…”

“Today, people from the Thaumaturgy School asked me: where is the Mother of the Nation, the great Grand Magician, the Duchess?”

“And?”

“I told them the truth. That even the Secretariat doesn’t know the whereabouts of Her Grace the Duchess.”

Martinez unfolded his hands and spread his arms, as if to say he had nothing to hide.

“Then the senior members of the School said this: Perhaps the Duchess has turned her back on the Magic Tower—”

“Enough.”

At Francesca’s icy voice, Martinez’s mouth closed.

“What nonsense. Ignore it, Lord Martinez. The Secretariat is not so idle as to worry about such grumblings right now.”

“Yes, I merely reported the facts as they are. But there is one thing I would like you to understand.”

“…”

“With Her Grace the Duchess absent, and in a situation where we cannot receive instructions from the Oracle, we magicians have no choice but to place our complete trust and reliance on you, Lady Ranieri, and Lady Risidike.”

“I understand what you’re saying, so you may leave now.”

“Yes. Rest well, Lady Ranieri.”

Martinez paid his respects politely and left the office.

Watching him go, Francesca placed a hand on her throbbing forehead. After letting out a small groan, she took out a telephone from a drawer.

After a brief connection tone…

A familiar voice came through from the other end.

-‘Oh~ my cute little sister. What brings you to call?’

“I’d like to meet for a bit.”

Francesca added.

With just a hint of gladness.

“Sister Veronica.”

Episode 12 – The Strongest Magician in History

The journey to meet Veronica was more painful than any other moment. Mainly in a psychological sense.

It was just this morning that I had been intimate with Lucia, who was once her attendant and now a saint of the Order.

I had snatched away the foster sister whom Veronica cherished and loved so much that she described her as born from her heart. And if that wasn’t enough, when our affair was discovered, I had jumped out the window like a pastor escaping to the afterlife through an air conditioner unit.

As someone with a sense of decency, I found it difficult to face her.

“…Yeah. Yeah. Got it. See you later then.”

Opening the door with the feeling of a cow being dragged to the slaughterhouse, I immediately caught sight of Veronica before I could even avert my gaze.

She was holding a receiver, smiling brightly for once while on a call.

When our eyes met as I entered the office, she gave me a slight nod in greeting. Then she covered the receiver with her palm, asking the person on the other end for a moment.

“Just a moment… I’m sorry, Major. I’m on a call right now, could you wait a bit? It won’t take long.”

“…Hmm. Take your time.”

“Thank you! There’s coffee, tea, and alcohol over there, so make yourself comfortable and help yourself.”

Veronica offered me drinks with a smile. It was truly a beautiful smile characteristic of her, but given the circumstances, I somehow felt uneasy.

What’s this? Is she saying if I want to go comfortably, I should drink the poisoned drinks and die?

With a slightly suspicious look, I glanced at the bottles before pouring myself some brandy.

Taking my glass, I went to the window to observe the outside scenery. I was hoping for a change of mood, but sadly, this was the northernmost part of the Empire.

Today, like any other day, the cloudy northern sky and the gloomy gray city greeted me. I sipped my brandy with a gloomy face, looking at the city shrouded in an eerie atmosphere.

The taste was excellent, befitting what Veronica would drink, but I wasn’t in a particularly good mood.

“Hmm~ Did you wait long?”

“No, it wasn’t that boring.”

Veronica approached with a frisky gait.

After putting down the classic 1930s-style telephone, she plopped down on the sofa. Not content with just that, she half-reclined as if she were in her own bedroom.

It was something she could do because she knew well that no one in the North would dare reprimand her, a saint.

Of course, I’m someone who would normally say something regardless of her being a saint or not…

But today, I just couldn’t.

Veronica, half-lying down, tilted her head and looked at me.

“What’s wrong, Major? By now you should be scolding me to sit up straight before my spine gets crooked.”

“…Have I only known you for a day or two, Saint? You never listen anyway, so why should I waste my energy?”

“True. That’s exactly my charm!”

“Bullshit…”

Thud, thud. Her shoes fell off with a loud noise.

Red shoes handcrafted by the master craftsmen of the Order.

These shoes symbolize the feet of the disciples of the celestial deity mentioned in the scriptures, who fled to the mountains to escape the persecution of the old empire, their feet stained with blood from walking barefoot on sharp rocky paths.

In honor of those who maintained their principles, integrity, faith, and belief even in life-threatening situations, the Pope and saints preferred to wear red shoes.

As a saint, it was natural for Veronica to wear red shoes as well.

“Ah, now I feel a bit better.”

Having thrown off her shoes, Veronica smiled with relief. She picked up a glass and a bottle of whiskey from the side table and began:

“Major.”

“Yes, Veronica.”

“Where did you go last night?”

A sudden question. I almost choked for a moment.

Fortunately, Veronica didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Instead, she handed me a tissue with a look of disdain, saying, ‘I’ve never seen someone choke on alcohol before.’

“Why were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to have dinner together, but I couldn’t find you. I had prepared all the food… Is this how you treat me, standing me up?”

“That food wasn’t even cooked by you, Saint—”

“Anyway! From now on, tell me before you go out anywhere. A person who’s had a hole punched through their chest should know better than to not fear the devil…”

“Me? Get permission from you to go out, Saint?”

“What, were you planning to get permission from Lucia instead?”

“…No, this isn’t the military or something.”

Well, I am a soldier, but still. This is too much. Reporting and getting approval every time I go out?

I already have frequent field work and need to move around a lot, so Veronica’s demand to get permission before going out was like a bolt from the blue. Getting permission to go out? That’s practically house arrest, isn’t it?

When I asked by what authority she was imposing such a thing, Veronica answered:

“Because I’m worried.”

“…Ugh, normal people don’t lock someone up just because they’re worried.”

I tried to counter Veronica’s assertion with various arguments, but it was to no avail.

She crossed her arms with a prim expression. As if she wouldn’t listen to any objections.

“If any problems arise, I’ll handle everything, so Major, don’t worry and just stay here at the cathedral.”

“Even so…”

“Ah- just quietly receive treatment, will you?”

“…”

Is this a saint or a gangster?

After making what was essentially a threat, Veronica tapped the desk with an expression of utter incomprehension.

“Major, did you do something wrong to me? Why are you acting like this today?”

“…I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I just have some work to do.”

Although I have diplomatic status, I was still Camilla’s colleague. The Military Government Headquarters had assigned me the task of relaying communications between the three individuals.

My role was to serve as a bridge connecting the Military Government Headquarters with the group, and to help the three operate smoothly in the North where complex military operations were underway. I would occasionally visit the field to see how things were progressing.

To maintain contact with Camilla, Lucia, and Francesca, I need to go outside the cathedral frequently. Moreover, I have to handle not only diplomatic duties but also tasks assigned by the ‘company’…

Yeah, right. The truth was, after having passionate sex with Lucia, I found it difficult to face Veronica. I just blurted out whatever came to mind. This place was too uncomfortable for me right now. I was worried Veronica might find out.

But, as always,

Life doesn’t go according to plan.

“Aha! If that’s the problem, I can help you.”

“…?”

Veronica clapped her hands and then picked up the receiver to make a call somewhere.

I sipped my brandy, feeling a strange unease creeping up from somewhere.

*

“Wow! Look at this building! It’s like Westminster Abbey— no, it seems even bigger and more beautiful than Milan Cathedral or Santiago de Compostela Cathedral!”

“Nice to see you again, Military Attaché. What brings you to the cathedral?”

“…”

I stared at the two people with a dumbfounded expression, my mouth hanging open.

“What do you think, Major?”

I felt an arm wrapping around my neck distinctly.

Veronica, who had approached without me noticing, put her arm around my shoulder and gently pulled me closer. With a cigar in one hand, she exhaled thick smoke and grinned.

“Now you don’t need to wander around, right?”

“…”

“Stop messing around and just focus on your treatment. Things are about to get busy anyway. You need to rest while you can. If you want to bring your luggage, just let me know. I’ll send someone to the hotel.”

“…I want to go home.”

One month into my deployment to the Kien Empire.

I already wanted to return to Abas.