Chapter 231
Chapter 231
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 231
Chapter Title: Langritsa Magic Tower
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Following Lancel inside, a spiraling corridor twisted into view. The moment they stepped through the entrance, a plush carpet laid across the floor welcomed them. It was brand new, without a speck of dust. Along the walls on either side of the corridor hung massive frames.
"This is?"
Inside the frames were various emblems. Some depicted flames, others ice crystals, flower petals, goblins, and more—the varieties were diverse, the colors vibrant. Just when it seemed like they were all recognizable, there were bizarre, unidentified patterns that defied comprehension.
"These are the emblems of clans that have been officially recognized from the founding of the Langritsa Magic Tower to the present day. You could call it our history. If you touch them like this with your finger..."
Lancel touched one of the frames on behalf of the curious Juda and Arhil. Light burst from the frame, projecting the emblem holographically in front, along with accompanying text. Shrugging as he displayed it, Lancel continued.
"It records when the clan was founded, how many high-ranking mages capable of advanced spells it produced, what research it completed to advance magic, or victories in tournaments hosted by the Langritsa Magic Tower. If you go higher up, you'll find the Cheriu Clan's emblem too. Of course, if no clan members are left alive, the lineage ends, so the final line gets inscribed."
"...Do the emblems hold special meaning?"
Lancel shrugged at Arhil's question.
"Well, when clans are formed, they attach grand significance to them, so naturally, they carry special meaning. Ah, our Snowfield Magic Tower's Blizzard Clan? Nothing profound. Just an ice crystal emblem."
"Heh."
"These records are kept by the Lord of the Langritsa Magic Tower. The old man's picky, but he's meticulous about this sort of thing."
Old man.
Juda dredged up faint memories while watching Lancel's back as he finished speaking and resumed walking.
The one he called an old man was the lord of the Langritsa Magic Tower, representative of all magic towers in Calypso.
Chapelin Rang Drimoor.
That was the name, as far as he remembered. Unlike the bandit-like mages leading the way earlier, he looked like a proper mage. At least, the in-game illustration suggested as much.
'No way he looks like those bandits.'
Even if one poured all stats into strength and stamina, that appearance was unlikely. So it might be overthinking. The end of the corridor was still nowhere in sight. Now even the frames were gone, giving it a maze-like feel, as if circling the same spot endlessly. The enclosed space felt stifling. A window would have helped.
Though he had no claustrophobia, the oppressiveness made Juda frown as he walked silently. Perhaps sensing the discomfort—or feeling it himself every visit—Lancel called back without turning.
"We're almost there. Just a bit further."
Don't believe you, you devil.
But his words were true. Soon, a door appeared at the corridor's end. Ornate patterns were engraved upon it. The tower lords who had departed ahead waited there.
"Ah, what are you doing? Hurry up! Lancel, bring them quick!"
Irritated at waiting in such a confined space, one tower lord bellowed. As Juda and Arhil approached the door, the shouting lord cleared his throat as if nothing happened and politely knocked.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
He paused once between each, totaling three knocks. As if it were a signal, the door swung open wide. The tower lords entered in order. Even Lancel, who had guided them this far, stepped inside, so Juda and Arhil followed.
Clunk.
The door shut automatically once everyone was in. The room was rectangular, like a noble's study. Shelves lined the walls, packed with an enormous number of books. One wall was a full sheet of glass; without blinds, sunlight would pour right in.
But more attention-grabbing than the room's furnishings was the gray-bearded man perched on the desk. He slid off as Juda and Arhil entered.
"Welcome. Sit wherever."
What to say? His voice and demeanor evoked the dignity of Earl Jenner from Uruun. He gestured to seats and took the head chair. The tower lords greeted him and sat before the guests. No matter how long the chairs, the tower lords' massive builds made fitting a challenge. With just four seated, one chair was already full.
"These are the guests? Why are you sitting!"
"But, Chapelin, shouldn't we sit too?"
"If you crowd next to the guests, it'll make them uncomfortable. Don't try to sit beside them—just take those side chairs, and the rest stand. Hurry!"
The tower lords exchanged glances, sighed, and played rock-paper-scissors to fairly decide who sat. Watching the quick resolution, Juda and Arhil took the empty seats. With four hulking figures right in front, the pressure was immense. Arhil seemed to find the whole situation oppressive, sighing warily as she scanned her surroundings.
"No need to be so guarded, priestess. I don't know which holy king you serve, but these tower lords, appearances aside, have never committed a crime. You can trust them."
"Ah... yes."
Arhil nodded briefly.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Chapelin Rang Drimoor, lord of the Langritsa Magic Tower. Titles the world calls me by don't matter here, so let's set them aside."
"Juda Arsher."
Chapelin smiled, lips curling at the concise introduction.
"Short and sweet. Lancel said you brought the Cheriu Clan's leader's token...?"
"First, return the robes."
Juda nudged Arhil with his elbow, signaling her to remove hers. She folded it neatly, stacking both on the table.
"Hmm."
He then pulled the pre-pocketed token from his pouch and offered it with both hands. No need to hand it over one-handed and seem arrogant. Chapelin took the token, examining front and back. Unlike Lancel of the Snowfield Tower, who had infused it with mana to verify.
Chapelin let out a small sigh.
"It's genuine. The one I gave to Sinbalre. No one would dare forge a leader's token."
"......"
"Bringing this means Sinbalre is dead? We don't interfere in clan affairs—didn't stop them from joining Silan's war—but I never imagined this."
He snorted dismissively. No sign of dismay. Just muttering that he was dead.
"Did you think they'd beat the elves?"
At the question, Chapelin, who had been staring at the token, rolled only his eyes toward Juda. His piercing blue gaze burned like flame. Though age withered the body, his eyes remained youthful.
"Of course I thought they'd win. Just two clans joined the war, but those were Iviren and Cheriu. You might not know, but they're top combat clans even within the Langritsa Magic Tower—gathering of elite mages."
His voice rose, eyes blazing fiercely. Not as massive as the tower lords before him, but his presence was overwhelming.
"Even if their numbers barely reach a thousand combined, considering mages' rarity and power, they could handle ten or a hundred times that! Iviren and Cheriu didn't earn their combat clan names lightly!"
"......"
"No matter how Silan's idiocy wasted over two hundred thousand troops. Those two clans should have returned alive! But months after entering the forest, not one's come back. Can you believe it?"
He growled like a beast. His piercing glare and crushing mana made Arhil whimper softly, though Juda remained composed.
Chapelin glanced at Arhil, realized they weren't the enemy, leaned back, withdrew his mana, and lowered his voice. Composing himself instantly, he apologized.
"Whew. Sorry. ...No point venting at you. Anyway, you bringing the token means Iviren and Cheriu got crushed by the elves. Figures. Or rather, wiped out?"
Chapelin sighed deeply.
"Won't you tell me? What happened in the elves' forest."
Not difficult. But he couldn't mention summoning the sixth lord, Bel-Terza. Instead, he had a plausible lie prepared in <Memo>, so he began recounting as if reminiscing, starting with a sigh.
"...A total rout. At first, I thought we could win. The elves' forces were that formidable."
They had no choice but to believe him. No survivors. Not a single human emerged from the elves' forest. He alone knew what happened that day, that hour.
Unless it was utterly absurd, they couldn't distinguish lie from truth.
He exaggerated everything.
Sword Saint Bia's prowess, the number of spirit sword wielders.
The power of fragment Lusen Ardahan, known as the elves' guardian.
Troop scale, archery, magic... The tale wove lies and truths into a novel-like epic. Terrifyingly, Juda even added stories of nonexistent comrades.
The plausible account made the listening tower lords nod.
With forces like that, defeat was inevitable.
Iviren and Cheriu must have slipped up.
Murmurs like that. Chapelin's sharp glance silenced them, but their faces showed understanding. But Chapelin was different. Frowning and tilting his head through Juda's tale, he voiced doubt the moment it ended.
"I see... But may I ask one thing?"
"Go ahead."
"How did you escape the elves' pursuit? Ah, it might sound suspicious. It is—I suspect you. No one's returned from that forest alive, yet you're the sole survivors."