Ch.745The Reality of the Magic Tower

Jahan and Nigel returned to their cabin after bickering about Eastern versus Western pride, deciding to settle their unfinished competition to determine who was right.

I suppose they’re going to arm wrestle again… though considering they broke a table last time, hopefully they’ll show some restraint this time.

I turned my attention away from them and wandered around the deck, puffing cigarette smoke.

Lena, Millia, and Asha had also retreated to their cabins complaining of cold and fatigue, leaving only the gentle hum of noise echoing across the now-empty deck.

Ophelia? She hadn’t stuck around on deck for long to begin with.

Apparently interested in the magical engineering applied to the airship, she had invaded the engine room as soon as we reached stable altitude.

The crew members showed reluctance, but none were bold enough to stop the retainer of Baron Median and the only high-ranking mage aboard the ship.

Well, if they had that kind of courage, they’d have chosen combat roles instead of becoming tower researchers.

Thanks to that, Ophelia had flung open the engine room door and hadn’t returned for quite some time.

She was probably cornering any idle mages there and engaging in technical conversations filled with terminology even I couldn’t understand. Typical spellcaster.

In other words, the only people left on deck were me… no, me and Demian.

I tapped my cigarette ash into an ashtray and turned to look at Demian.

He was standing near the bow of the deck with his eyes closed. He had thrust his greatsword upside down into the deck and rested both hands on the pommel’s counterweight.

The cape on his shoulders and the skirt portion of his armor fluttered like wings in the strong headwind.

He’s really striking a pose.

Anyone watching would think he’s some kind of knight king.

—-

“Why are you brooding like that? Something worrying you?”

I approached Demian and spoke to him with a smirk. I thought we might chat until my cigarette burned out.

“Huh? Oh. It’s nothing like that, just thinking about something.”

Demian opened his eyes, looked at me, and shook his head.

Thinking…

Right, even for a boy with no emotions, no tact, and seemingly no thoughts, as an imperial hero and future warrior, he must have concerns about what lies ahead.

Nidhogg might have been cut in half, but it’s no pushover as an opponent, and now we’re likely to face elves and Dragonborn too.

Considering that only Demian, Millia and I could face an elven guardian alone, it was natural that his shoulders would feel heavy.

Though Demian lacked most emotions, as if to compensate, his sense of responsibility rivaled my own.

Perhaps I should offer some counseling.

I patted Demian’s shoulder and gave him a senior’s smile.

“What’s on your mind? Tell me. Professor Haschal will teach you the solution.”

“Well, it’s about my ‘Skywalk’…”

Demian began with a deadly serious tone.

Skywalk… concerns about his heroic tale?

I suppose it makes sense he’d have questions and worries, having only recently awakened his heroic tale.

“What about Skywalk? Something you’re curious about?”

If so, he’d found the right person. No one in this world knew more about Demian’s heroic tale than I did.

“If I raced this ship, who would win? I think I’m faster, but considering flight duration, the airship might have the advantage…”

…What the hell?

I hurriedly caught the cigarette falling from my parted lips and let out a hollow laugh.

Is this kid insane? I wondered what he was contemplating, and it was this nonsense? Unbelievable.

Who would win in a race? Why on earth would that matter?

“I think I’d need to test it to know for sure… but with a major battle ahead, I’m hesitant to waste energy frivolously, so I’ve been debating whether to try it or not.”

“…That’s what you’ve been seriously contemplating?”

I retrieved the cigarette from between my chest and brought it back to my lips, exhaling a deep sigh.

I stared at Demian with eyes mixed equally with exasperation and contempt.

…Was this guy some kind of bird in his past life?

His obsession with the sky, the wings that sprouted from him, and his empty head—he’s no different from a sparrow.

‘I should have cut off his legs before wings grew on him.’

[Wouldn’t that have made him jump higher and fly even farther? Unless you cut his throat and ended his breathing, half-measures only forge a warrior stronger through adversity.]

Since that might actually be true, instead of arguing with Hersella, I smacked the back of Demian’s head.

Of course, I held back significantly—hitting with full force would have been fatal.

– Thwack!

Surprisingly, Demian reflexively twisted his body and raised his greatsword to block my palm. It was an impressively quick reaction.

…Though, due to the difference in strength, he ended up smashing his own face with the flat of his blade rather than getting hit in the back of the head.

“Ugh…!”

Demian, after his passionate kiss with the greatsword, fell backward with a groan.

“Hmm. You’ve gotten a bit faster. Thanks to your bout with Nidhogg perhaps?”

“Why did you suddenly hit me?”

Demian sat on the deck, clutching his face where the blade had struck, complaining with an expression of injustice.

What’s with that face, as if you’ve done nothing wrong?

“I did it because I was dumbfounded. I was seriously trying to help with what I thought was an important concern, but you were just having these ridiculous thoughts. I wasted my worry on you.”

I felt like kicking him off the deck.

Maybe a free fall from an altitude of over ten kilometers would knock some sense into him.

Of course, that wouldn’t happen. Unless I shattered his bones and internal organs while kicking him, he’d simply spread his wings wide and gracefully fly back to the deck.

…Or perhaps start that race with the airship he mentioned.

“Stop having stupid thoughts and go get some sleep. If you sneak out at dawn for some foolish race, I’ll tie you to the stern with a rope and leave you dangling for four days.”

After shooting these words at Demian, I stubbed out my finished cigarette in the ashtray and entered the cabin.

Demian would follow soon. I’d spoken with enough sincerity that even someone oblivious to emotions would understand.

The threat of tying him up for four days was just that—a threat—but if he actually wasted his Karma on such nonsense after this warning… I’d leave him dangling for at least two days, even if Millia tried to stop me.

It wouldn’t be dangerous anyway—even if the rope broke, he wouldn’t fall to his death.

—-

– Creak.

With each step, the friction produced a squeaking sound.

Unlike the ship’s exterior covered with metal plating, the interior was wooden like a conventional sailing vessel.

The upper level of the two-story cabin contained seven guest rooms, a dining area, and communal bathing facilities, while the lower level housed the engine room and sleeping quarters for the tower crew.

Unlike us who essentially had private rooms, the lower level had much of its space occupied by the engine room, forcing five people to share a single room for sleep.

I thought such accommodations would be difficult for mages to accept given their status… but apparently just having guaranteed sleep time made this ten times better than the tower.

There, they routinely curled up on the floor of research labs with only their robes as bedding for brief naps.

At this point, I questioned whether the tower truly was the ivory tower gathering the empire’s finest magical researchers.

Perhaps its reputation as the center of magical research was merely a facade, and in reality, it was a camp for slaves who had fallen for a national-scale scam and mortgaged their lives?

“…Wouldn’t it be better to quit and look for positions as retainers to lords instead?”

“That’s… impossible for us…”

A mage on duty controlling the airship explained their situation with tears welling in his eyes.

It was a story that could be seen as either unjust or self-inflicted, depending on perspective.

Originally, before Floheta became the tower master, the researchers’ lives weren’t so harsh. In fact, they had been comfortable and luxurious.

However, after the revelation that the Church of Grimnir and the tower’s upper echelon were in collusion, their circumstances plummeted from heaven to hell.

The high-ranking mages proven guilty of collusion were the heads of the tower’s internal factions, teachers to the research mages, and their seniors.

When all such figures were arrested, what became of those beneath them?

They were left with only two choices:

Either follow the high-ranking mages to prison and await execution, or agree to a lifetime contract pledging to serve as tower researchers without any complaints.

Most mages chose the latter, and having obtained their nominal consent, Floheta now worked them for 20 hours a day to extract research results.

Ironically, Floheta herself also worked without sleep, which left the mages unable to even curse her as they endured their situation.

“My, that’s unfortunate.”

I shrugged lightly and offered a perfunctory word of comfort.

What a shame. Ophelia should have heard this story. It would have made her realize just how generous a person I am.