Memories Become Thorns (2)
A short while later.
"All right... connecting the call now."
In the open yard before the Administration Office, my attendant activated the crystal orb.
— Vrrmmm.
The Royal Mages' Academy was a state institution established to keep the mages who had settled in the Crossline Kingdom in one place. Mages were exceptionally rare talent, so the kingdom had chosen a strategy of holding onto them for as long as possible, having them take on disciples and multiply their numbers that way.
In truth, the border and the Academy had very little to do with one another. At most, we would request the occasional consultation, or ask the institution to approve the passage of unpermitted goods. Scholars who shut themselves away, drowning in their own research and magic, and a border post that had to face the whole wide world — the two simply never had occasion to meet. Until now, our entire relationship had amounted to a few exchanges of letters.
The president of the Academy... what sort of person could she be?
Someone who had risen to a post so distinguished she was called a sage. Put another way, the greatest mage in the kingdom. With modest expectations stirring, I peered into the crystal orb.
Light filtered in slowly, and the image of a woman emerged — a woman sprawled in the sunlight with both legs propped up on her desk, a witch's hat pulled down over her face.
"..."
Faced with a scene I had anticipated in no way whatsoever, I fell briefly silent.
"Ah... Madam President of the Royal Mages' Academy. Greetings to you."
— Hnnngh... who is iit...
It had only just rolled into the late afternoon, and already the voice was drowsy. Long grey hair splayed every which way, and a desk left in utter disarray, crammed with all manner of strange instruments.
I glanced at the nameplate sitting at the very front of the desk.
President of the Royal Mages' Academy — Daika Ren. Class of 1447.
Well, she is the president, at least...
Bewildering. Even allowing for how magekind did as it pleased, this felt a bridge too far in the way of informality. I cleared my throat and spoke first.
"This officer is Nathan Kell, Central Officer and chief administrator of the Southern Border."
— Oh, right. Hello.
A limp hand flapped a lazy wave at me. Not a shred of interest in the voice.
"I have contacted you to request your assistance."
— I'm a bit busy right now... come back another time. Or send it to me in writing.
Who on earth calls sleeping "busy"?
Mages paid almost no mind to anything outside their own sphere of interest. It was said that apart from breathing, eating, and researching magic, they were capable of nothing at all. No wonder they're called eccentrics.
But there did happen to be one reliable way to handle people like this.
"We have confiscated a number of unauthorized artifacts, and require your advice regarding them."
Bait, cast the instant the hook was set. A technique straight out of the Merchant's Secret Arts: present precisely what your counterpart desires. I pointed out the one thing that drove mages completely out of their minds — enchanted artifacts.
The effect was immediate.
— What!? Unauthorized artifacts!?!
She hurled the hat aside and scrambled to her feet, smashing her face against the crystal orb. Her fair features squashed flat, without mercy, against the transparent glass.
"Oh dear."
— Where, where are they!? Where are my babies!?
Bright orange eyes, suddenly wide, darted in every direction. When did confiscated goods become "babies"?
I slid the orb sideways. There, lined up in neat rows, sat the crates seized from the smugglers.
"We have a full crate's worth here."
— Ohmygoodness!!!
A frivolous cry of delight. At the sight of it, the Olfactory Officer and I turned dumbfounded stares upon the Hearing Officer.
"Why are you looking at me?"
"...Are mages simply like this?"
The feeling was less disappointment than pure disbelief. The Hearing Officer, a former member of the Academy herself, shrugged.
"That's perfectly normal~."
Well. Seeing as how she chugged hard liquor on duty, I could hardly argue. Sadly, I found it entirely believable.
Daika straightened her pointy hat and rose from her seat.
— Stay right there. I'm coming at once.
Huh?
She's coming HERE? Won't that mean waiting at least a full day?
I hastened to speak.
"Ah— no, that won't be necessary. If you would simply hear a few requests of mine—"
But it was already too late. Broom in hand, sprawled on the floor as she'd been, she touched the wall and murmured:
"Hallei Iva Passaway."
— Fold the space, and open a path.
— Vrrrrmm.
Beyond the crystal orb, a shimmering portal bloomed on her wall.
— Vrrrrmm.
And in the very next instant, accompanied by a surge of bluish mana, an identical portal opened on the wall of the bastion where I stood.
"!!!"
"What in the—!"
The Olfactory Officer and I froze in open shock.
Space transition. Teleportation, as it was commonly called — the most difficult spell in existence to cast, unfolding right before my eyes.
— Shloop.
A hand shot out of the portal. And then—
"Where are my artifacts, young man!?"
From within it emerged the witch Daika Ren, thoroughly beside herself.
"Good heavens..."
Transferring a mere object demanded months of time and condensed mana. Transferring a living person took many times more than that. And yet the president of the Academy had cast it on the spot, effortlessly, as if it were nothing.
This was why the Mages' Academy devoured the largest budget in the kingdom — because of all our institutions, it delivered the most certain results.
"Where are my babies!?"
And also, because its members were the most scatterbrained of all.
"There they are!"
Orange eyes, more feral than any werewolf's, locked onto their prey. Before anyone could stop her, she went scrambling headlong toward the crates.
"W-Wait, please wait just a moment!"
The Olfactory Officer and I spread our arms wide and barely managed to plant ourselves between her and the boxes.
"Step aside, young man! Let me at least see my babies' faces!"
Even her form of address was extraordinary. Straining against the current of her energy, I answered.
"This officer cannot simply hand them over. There are procedures to follow!"
Goods seized during screening were disposed of according to their degree of danger. If that danger was negligible or slight, they were returned provided the violator paid the required fee or forfeited their intent to cross the border. But bombs, weaponry, and artifacts were to be confiscated and destroyed. If the state were to come into possession of smuggled goods, that itself became a problem — so on paper, destruction was the correct course.
And yet, well... what was handled 'unofficially' left no record behind. That was precisely the opening I meant to negotiate for.
"Hold on... young man, you said your title was Central Officer, didn't you?"
"Y-Yes. That is correct."
But this so-called president had brushed aside my intentions entirely and veered off on her own tangent. She stared at me for a moment, then clapped her hands together.
"Ah—! So you're THAT one! The fellow who tried to turn away my dear student's carriage at departure!"
I recalled it now — a little girl in a witch's hat, towing a carriage all by herself, just days ago.
"Placing a spell potent enough to launch a person skyward on the slightest touch does constitute a violation of regulations."
"It was for her safety! And it's a safety spell, so it's fine. Anyway, move aside. I'll only look at my babies, I swear."
"N-No, as I was saying, hold on—!"
All over the place. The topic of conversation ricocheted in every direction while she pressed her demands without granting me a moment's pause.
I can't keep my footing against this woman's momentum...!
Her sheer, unbridled willfulness — headstrong, self-directed, dominant in every respect — kept sweeping me along.
And then, our savior arrived.
"Hellooo there, junior~?"
"Hm?"
The president whipped around at the word junior, quick as a spring trap. The Hearing Officer greeted her with her signature languid smile and a wave.
"An elf at the border? This is quite a distance from the Great Forest, no?"
In that instant, the Hearing Officer's movement stopped dead.
"...Did you just speak casually to me?"
The smile drained away, slow and deliberate.
"I heard, back then, that you—"
"Why would I be your junior? Oh — are you from the Mages' Academy, by chance?"
The president tilted her head.
"Strange. There are no elves among our disciples. What batch are you, hm?"
"...Youngsters these days have no manners whatsoever."
The Hearing Officer's expression was growing steadily graver.
"Is it not proper etiquette, when asking someone's batch, to state your own first~?"
"Ohh, asking the president of the Academy for her batch. How very novel."
At that, a spark of curiosity kindled in Daika's eyes. Broom gripped in one hand, she tipped the brim of her hat ever so slightly as she spoke.
"I am Daika Ren, born of the illustrious 1447th batch — the highest in the Academy, and its president. Might you see fit to show some respect now?"
Supremely confident, with a tone that insisted her office be honored.
"Ha."
The Hearing Officer burst into a laugh of pure derision.
"Charmed, I'm sure. I'm Integratsil Diorefusa Sen — of the 801st batch."
Silence.
For the first time, Daika went quiet.
"Th-That's a lie."
"If you don't believe me, then perhaps a little look at this~."
The Hearing Officer drew something from her sleeve.
"Wha—a wand?"
A short, stubby, battered staff — the perfect counterpoint to the broom the president clutched. At the sight of it, Daika reeled in visible turmoil and muttered:
"But wands were discontinued forty-two years ago, when the World Tree began to wither...?"
The Hearing Officer said nothing. She only smiled, sweetly.
That smile meant exactly one thing.
The truth.
"I pay my respects to you, Great Senior!"
The spectacle of the mighty president of the Mages' Academy snapping to attention in a formal salute was, I had to admit, well worth watching.
"What batch did you say?"
"The 1447th batch!"
"What batch did you say?"
"Th-The utterly insignificant 1447th batch!"
"There we go. Much more pleasant to hear now."
She shaved that lofty pride down to the quick in a single stroke. Twirling the wand idly in her fingers, the Hearing Officer went on.
"Do you happen to know a Tobias Riemann~? I hear he was the one who developed the flying broom. I wonder how the fellow is getting along."
At the name dropped so casually, all the color drained from Daika's face.
"He passed away, but... how do you know my master's master's master — no, how are you even still...?"
"He was my junior~."
The hierarchy stretched upward, dizzyingly far.
"Well, Toby was getting on in years, true. Then Hilla Turing must have passed as well, I take it?"
"...The Ninth President has also departed this world. D-Don't tell me you knew her too...?"
"She was my junior~."
With every exchange, the president's posture bowed lower and lower.
The world of mages was sustained by two currencies: skill and connections. For the Hearing Officer — an elf — the second of those outweighed anyone else's in the kingdom by an overwhelming margin.
"The state of the Academy these days is simply disgraceful, Madam President junior~. The youngest batch doesn't even know the honorific code for superiors, and they spout casual speech at their seniors without so much as a by-your-leave. Isn't that right?"
"Th-That is correct!"
"And I heard just now that our Madam President junior is the most senior member~? Oh, wait — no, that would make me the most senior, wouldn't it?"
"It would!"
The Hearing Officer sidled up beside the president, who was answering through gritted teeth, and murmured softly into her ear.
"Now do you understand what I'm getting at~?"
"I shall re-educate my disciples on etiquette from the ground up!"
Mages were a free-spirited lot. They bowed to no hierarchy or rank whatsoever, devoting themselves to nothing but their own interests. But that was only how they behaved toward the outside world. Among their own kind, they maintained a system and hierarchy stricter than the harshest army — all because of the unique institution of the master-disciple bond.
Meanwhile, the Olfactory Officer, who had been listening to the whole exchange, tilted his head.
"Hearing Officer. A gap of six hundred batches between you and the president means..."
Even if the Academy recruited a batch once a month, that was six hundred months. Fifty years, at minimum. Add her career as an immigration officer on top of that — and before it, all her years living in the Great Forest region...
Finishing his rough calculation, the Olfactory Officer gaped.
"Whoa, you're even older than our Holy Mother. Sen, you're a total grann— oof."
— THWACK.
The Hearing Officer closed the distance at the speed of lightning and clamped down on the werewolf's snout.
"Mind that tongue~. Or dog might end up on the menu tonight."
The voice dropped, razor-edged. The werewolf froze solid on the spot, every hair on end.
She turned her head toward me as well.
"Elves and humans count their years rather differently, you see. Do be sure not to forget it, Central Officer."
Her eyes are terrifying. I didn't even say anything.
So I simply nodded in silence.
"Junior~?"
"Daika Ren, of the 1447th batch!"
The president — the archmage they called the Great Witch — answered, still rigidly at attention.
"You will... cooperate, won't you?"
"The Royal Mages' Academy is a partner institution of the Immigration Management Office! We will cooperate!"
The president who had rampaged like a wild horse was gone. There remained only a junior mage, tamed to the bone by batches and bloodlines.
"Very good. At ease."
Only then did Daika relax her stance and let out a long breath. The Hearing Officer flashed me a smile. She's yours now — do as you like.
"Then... please proceed with the examination first."
"Yep! Ah — no, wait. Yes. Understood, young man."
And so the cooperation I sought was secured, without a hitch.
— Clunk.
"Let's see now, let's see~."
Grinning from ear to ear, the president opened the crates and peered inside at the artifacts.
"Haaah... this scent of mana and metal... I simply can't resist..."
She inhaled deeply in rapture, wiggling her hips as she did. The Olfactory Officer and I regarded the spectacle with undisguised distaste.
"My expectations of mages are being demolished."
"I concur."
But before long, Daika's expression turned serious.
"Aha — they've stacked defensive magic six layers deep. So it was a protective artifact."
Her analysis began at once.
"But they've inverted the formula. It no longer wards off external force — it seals mana inward."
"Would you care to tell us the intended purpose of this artifact?"
"Simply put, they condensed the mana and crammed it tight behind a barrier."
In answer to my question, she picked up a single capsule the size of a fist.
"This is a bomb."
"...Pardon?"
The atmosphere shifted in an instant. The Olfactory Officer's claws slid out before he realized it.
"What did you just say?"
"Now, look here."
She cupped her two hands together into a small sphere.
"When you concentrate mana in an absurdly cramped space like this and hold it fixed for a long time, it converts into an unstable form."
"And what do you suppose happens, the very moment that suppressed mana is suddenly released?"
Then she flung both arms wide.
"Boom."
The short syllable rang out across the open yard. It was a small sound — but more than enough to send a chill racing down every spine present.
"Wh-What is the blast radius?"
"Hmm, let's see — from right about here..."
The president aimed her broom at the mouth of the yard.
"I'd say it reaches about all the way over there."
Then she pointed the broom at the entrance administration office. Roughly fifty meters.
"And that's on the assumption that only one detonates. If they all go off at once, well..."
She left the rest unsaid. She didn't need to finish.
"Those lunatics. They loaded weapons of mass slaughter like these onto a carriage that was already falling apart?"
The Olfactory Officer muttered in disgust.
"Good thing we destroyed them."
I could see the guilt had lifted considerably from his face. Meanwhile, I found myself thinking back on why the smugglers had tried to bring this in covertly.
"At this yield, one could bring down a dragon."
"A dragon? What has a dragon got to do with anything?"
One more word, it seemed, had caught the mage's interest — her orange eyes gleamed.
"Well, you see..."
Having briefly heard me out on the current situation, the president narrowed her eyes and lapsed into thought.
"Hmhmhmm. Well, this alone wouldn't be enough."
"Dragon scales are the second hardest substance in existence after mithril. Sheer explosive force won't cut it."
"To bring one down with these, you'd need an amplifier. Something to detonate that energy far more violently. For instance... gemstones used in blood magic would do the trick."
Blood magic. And gemstones.
Blood Diamonds.
What are the odds of such a coincidence?
No. This was no coincidence at all.
"Come to think of it, this officer seized Blood Diamonds — a prohibited import — mere moments ago."
"Ohmygoodness!? Those precious things!?"
Another frivolous cry burst out of her. Oh, please.
Face flushing faintly pink, Daika leaned in close and whispered.
"Young man, does this border truly turn up this sort of thing every time?"
"Once or twice every three months, give or take."
"Perhaps I really ought to establish a branch of the Academy right here at the border..."
I would rather not.
Before she could fly off the rails again, I spoke first.
"This officer has two requests. Fulfill them, and the unauthorized artifacts will be recorded as 'disposed of,' with ownership transferred to the Mages' Academy."
"Done."
"Would you please just hear me out first."
Apparently I had grown used to her by now, because I simply carried on as if nothing had happened.
"First: the complete neutralization of the unauthorized artifacts."
"Sure. That's easy. I could do it right this moment."
"Second: mana suppression on the Blood Diamonds, and the installation of a tracking spell."
The president, who had been nodding along absently, faltered mid-motion.
"Tracking? Not merely neutralizing them?"
"Correct. This officer must know where these gems are headed."
Someone ordered that smuggling — which means we find out who, and put them under watch. The Intelligence Department will be overjoyed to hear it.
The answer came back without a flicker of hesitation.
"Alright. Then I'll get started right away."
Her orange eyes, glittering once more with the hunger for discovery, went darting toward the crates.
"May this officer ask one final question?"
"Oop-oops-oops!"
She stopped herself just barely, face already diving toward the crates.
"What is it? Speak quickly. I'm busy."
"Latent Talent..."
I paused.
There is no need to reveal that the Princess is here.
I changed course at once.
"Can powers such as mana or divine holy power... be brought under control through the suppression of emotion?"
Someone who had risen to the presidency of the Mages' Academy would understand how the powers of this world functioned.
In which case, she might know something about Talent Manifestation as well.
The answer came instantly.
"Who told you that? Absolutely not."
"Pardon?"
"Young man, for every human being, emotion is the wellspring of power."
She lifted her head and spoke.
"Joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure — all of it is fuel for living. Dam what is natural, and it will rupture. Where do you think it ends?"
"But surely emotions running too wild pose a problem of their own."
"Too much is indeed worse than none at all. Consider mana alone — why do you suppose mana rampages exist?"
— Flinch.
At those words, the three of us stiffened.
"But if you exclude it entirely, you lose the ability to wield any power at all. No — worse than that..."
She gave the crate before her a gentle rattle.
"It becomes a bomb that will surely go off someday. And that is far more dangerous."
Words that matched, with perfect precision, what had happened at the Royal Castle.
"I... see."
"Everything flows, in the end. What matters is not damming it — but choosing which direction it runs."
The words of a sage.
It came into focus at last.
I had chosen the wrong direction.
Now I understand.
The method I had devised for Elaine's sake — its direction had been wrong all along.
"Thank you, Madam President."
For the first time, I bowed my head to her in gratitude.
"Curiosity and the thirst for knowledge are the very values our Academy holds highest."
Daika accepted the bow with a slight touch to the tip of her hat. And then—
"Eheheheh... now, how shall I handle my babies..."
Frivolous to the very last, she plunged into her work.
Oh, for the love of all that is holy.
At that very moment, inside the recovery room, Elaine and Erzena stood locked in a standoff, glaring at one another.
"What did you just say, Elaine?"
"Uuuuuuh, aeu-aeah."
— CRACKLE.
Golden radiance and an invisible force shoved against one another, letting out an ominous hiss where they met.
"Waaah..."
Caught between the two, the Gustatory Officer could only clutch her head and whimper.
"Central Officer, please hurry up and come heeeeere!"
The girl was simply no match for those two women.