Ch.80Tower Kindergarten

*Thud!*

Shuwaaa……

A beam of light descended from the sky, and soon a figure appeared.

“Hmm… Is this Amurtat?”

High-level magic: teleportation.

Being able to use such magic naturally meant that the caster was a magician who had reached great heights through years of self-discipline and training.

He observed the soldiers who had instantly surrounded him after his teleportation, and promptly cast a spell that slammed their heads into the ground.

“Vector.”

*Crash! Crack!*

“Arrrgh!!”

He connected the ground and the soldiers’ heads with lines of magical power, then pulled them down using guided magic, effectively creating the same result as gravity magic. While it sounds simple when described this way, a magician who could teleport and then subdue dozens of soldiers simultaneously with just a verbal incantation, without using a staff or wand, was typically called by one title.

“A-Archmage!”

Archmage.

A title carrying the utmost respect a magician could receive.

If swordsmen had Masters, magicians had Archmages—Grand Magicians.

And now, someone with such a title had subdued the gate’s defensive forces with a single spell. The archers positioned above the gate couldn’t even think of nocking arrows to their bowstrings.

Even if they had shot, they would have fallen victim to reflection magic, so their hesitation was ultimately wise.

*Clap… clap… clap…*

“Not bad. I was curious how this small country defeated Fahrenheit… To think you’d establish a containment formation so quickly…”

The Archmage applauded slowly but deliberately, praising the Amurtat soldiers’ response to his teleportation.

Someone of his caliber must have taken countless lives across numerous battlefields. Receiving praise from such a person should be taken to mean that while Amurtat’s military might be small in absolute numbers, they were well-trained.

“Fear not, servants of Tiberius. I come bearing prosperity, not the sword.”

“…Pardon?”

“Your lord Tiberius has summoned me. To build a tower of magicians in this land.”

Technically speaking, Tiberius hadn’t actually sent this Archmage an “invitation” or anything of the sort.

Grand Magicians of his caliber, when not residing in magic towers, often wandered about seeking greater heights. Usually, when a country loudly advertised “SEEKING A TOWER MASTER!!!”, word would spread, and a Grand Magician willing to become a tower master would make such a dramatic entrance.

“P-please wait a moment. I’ll send a messenger to the court.”

“Do so. I shall wait here.”

Such “dramatic entrances” inevitably caused disruption to the established order, but…

What could one do against human slaughterers who could annihilate armies exceeding 100,000 with just a few incantations? One could only revere and serve them.

*

“Welcome to Amurtat. It is an honor to meet a Grand Magician.”

“I am pleased to meet you as well. My name is Vladek Lucas. I humbly occupy the lowest seat among Grand Magicians.”

“Haha. Your modesty is excessive.”

The Grand Magician was engaged in a private conversation with the elderly royal advisor in his office.

Like all those of means, he employed the deceptive tactic of belittling himself, but such shallow tricks didn’t work on the advisor, who had long managed the economic wizardry of money that disappeared as quickly as it was earned.

“Now then, shall we go see the site where the magic tower will be built?”

“You’ve already secured a location?”

“When His Majesty ordered the construction of the city walls, he instructed us to secure enough space for various guilds, a magic tower, and other public facilities. I thought it was a troublesome request at the time…”

“But now it seems like foresight?”

“How could mere mortals like us recognize the vision of the immortals?”

The advisor answered with a tired expression.

From his perspective, Tiberius’s habit of spending as soon as money came in seemed possessed, but remarkably, all that spent money somehow returned perfectly, leaving the advisor in the frustrating position of being unable to properly advise, supervise, or counsel for the past decade.

“Well, I suppose that’s true. Even though rulers can die if killed, conversely, they don’t die until they do.”

“If rulers were mortal beings, civil wars would break out every few decades, and no nation would remain intact.”

To the people of this world, a leader’s death meant the nation’s destruction.

Unless they were extremely fortunate enough to have found a suitable successor in advance, when a ruler died, the barrier protecting the nation would collapse, leaving it to be trampled by demons and monsters.

Of course, things might be different if cultists or heretics performed horrific rituals like human sacrifices within the barrier, but such special circumstances were beside the point.

“So? Where is the site?”

“Ah… Do you see that large empty space outside the window?”

“Oh… I thought it was uncultivated farmland, but that’s the site. I was actually thinking it would be nice to have a magic tower there, so this works out well.”

Saying this, Vladek reached out and firmly grasped the advisor’s neck.

“Urk?”

“Please bear with it for a moment.”

The guards standing nearby instinctively drew their swords in surprise, but Vladek and the advisor disappeared via teleportation before they could act.

*Swoosh!*

“W-what?!”

“Teleportation?!”

The two swords cut through empty air, and the two guards looked at each other in dismay before approaching the window, where they could see the two men arguing in the middle of the site they had just been discussing.

*

Several hours later.

After minutes of bickering that led to a “dramatic agreement,” Tiberius welcomed the returning advisor with open arms.

“Welcome back, Advisor. How did the magic tower negotiations go?”

Of course, opening his arms didn’t necessarily mean he intended to embrace him, so Tiberius quickly closed them and poured himself red wine into an empty glass.

“Whew… That Vladek character. He looks like an enlightened priest on the outside, but he has quite a lot of demands.”

“Is that so? Let me see.”

At his lord’s command, the advisor presented the results he had achieved by talking in circles for hours, somehow managing to reduce, minimize, and ignore various demands.

“Hmm….”

Though the absolute number of clauses written on the ten sheets of parchment was small, the nature of the magical world necessitated various exception and special clauses, inevitably increasing the number of pages.

For dozens of minutes, only the sound of turning parchment filled the office. Just before a full hour had passed, Tiberius spoke.

“Well, there are some regrettable points, but this is certainly passing. Well done, Advisor. I’ve had blood drawn, so get an injection from Michaela before you leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Having received his lord’s approval, the advisor’s furrowed brow finally relaxed.

For a servant, there was no greater honor than recognition from the ruler they served.

“Now then… let’s begin.”

*Snap!*

As Tiberius snapped his fingers, construction materials suddenly appeared on the neatly arranged ground.

Stone, timber, steel bars, and even cement… All that was needed now were workers to use these materials.

“Hey! The materials are ready, so get up now!”

“Mmm… is it time to work?”

“Yes! Wake up the sleeping ones! If you want your wages, stop dozing and get to work!”

“Understood. *Yawn~*”

Though invisible from the palace, over 10,000 workers were already waiting at the site where the materials had dropped. The foremen, startled awake by the late-night sound of falling materials, began kicking the snoring workers to wake them.

A magic tower required far more delicate work and thorough security than an alchemist’s guild, so naturally, that many workers were needed, and the labor costs were correspondingly high.

“Listen up! Once we finish this job, you can lounge around at home for the rest of the year without your wives complaining! Hey! Light more torches over there!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now! Let’s begin work!”

The workers who had been sluggishly moving about the site first began organizing the materials and stacking them to one side. Before long, the materials and work areas were perfectly separated.

Now it was time for the sanctuary of magicians to be built by the hands of those who couldn’t use magic. It was typical posturing for magicians to have their power-filled places constructed by those whose only hardness was their calluses, but today at least, it wasn’t just for show.