The Magic Tower and Board Games

"I simply cannot understand it."

"Is that so?"

"I truly... absolutely cannot understand it."

Clack.

Duke Nicholas set down his teacup, his face a portrait of utter bewilderment. He brooded, he pondered, and then, all at once, he seemed to deflate. Pressing a hand against his own forehead, he spoke.

"How on earth did you do it?"

"Pardon?"

"I have tried every means at my disposal. I attempted to have the spire demolished by force. I invited a spirit summoner under contract with the Spirit King to drive the spirits out. I even stood outside that tower and begged her, swearing I would grant her any wish she desired, if only she would speak with me. And that has been going on for over five years."

"…………"

"And in all that time, my daughter... never once — not a single time — did she so much as raise her voice, let alone answer even a brief letter. Yet you walked into that tower after only a week, and you met with Raysia."

The Duke was smiling as he said it. But it was plainly not a smile born of joy.

He was genuinely curious. Why had all his countless efforts been rejected, while something as absurd as a board game had opened Raysia's heart?

"Tell me. How did you do it?"

"I simply wished to play a board game with the Lady, and so we played one."

"...And?"

"That's all there was to it."

However many times I turned it over in my mind, that really was the whole of it.

There was a vague sense that things had moved along a little faster after Lady Raysia committed some foul play at the game, but in the end, it was Raysia who opened the door, Raysia who accepted my request to play, and Raysia who told me to come back tomorrow. Rather than me persuading her, it was her own choice.

Still... Kylegalli did carry most of the credit.

It was what had given me the chance to befriend the spirits, and it was thanks to the game that Raysia — wounded by people as she was — had found it in herself to approach me at all.

The Duke, meanwhile, glared at me as if demanding I produce something more to say, then finally let out a long breath.

"Hoo... Very well. You have shown me hope... Then the answer is to invite renowned board game players, is it not?"

"Well, about that—"

"You can hardly remain here indefinitely, after all. How many days has it been now?"

"...Fifteen days."

Fifteen days. Half a month.

It had already been that long since a sudden letter from the Duke drew me from home to stay at the ducal castle of Everts. I had exchanged letters with my father in the meantime, of course.

Not that my absence was causing any problems.

I'd heard that Kylegalli was quietly spreading among the servants under Grandpa Charles's watchful care. And as the third son, I had no part in the family's affairs, so an extended stay at the ducal castle posed no trouble whatsoever.

The real problem was that Father had offhandedly asked whether I might simply set up residence over here for good.

"That is quite a long stay. Do you intend to remain?"

"That... would be no."

"I see. To put it crudely, unless you intend to marry Raysia, I have no choice but to find another way for after you leave."

"...I suppose so. Though if we're speaking of famous players, they'd be masters of that chess-like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game — they'd likely grow accustomed to Spirit Poker quickly enough."

"……………"

"Your Grace?"

"The fact that your mind went to board games rather than marriage tells me... I am unlikely to ever find a method greater than you."

Anyway.

Having wrapped up the conversation, Duke Nicholas abandoned his hollow smile and put on a grave expression.

"You have visited that spire every single day since you first entered it a week ago, playing games with my daughter."

"Spirit Poker, yes."

"I see. My daughter never did step outside the tower, but it is true that you have given us a thread of hope. Name what you wish. Whatever reward you ask within reason, I shall grant it."

"…………"

A reward, huh.

I had only wanted to play board games with Raysia — I never imagined it would come to this.

But a 'reward' from the head of House Everts, the wealthiest family in the entire West, could stretch well beyond imagination.

...Well, even so, the truth was simple.

If I was going to be rewarded, what I wanted had never changed.

"I need funding."

"...Funding?"

"I intend to spread Kylegalli and Spirit Poker far and wide. And for that, money and manpower are absolutely essential."

Father had given me permission to pursue board games, but that didn't mean I was entitled to spend the family's coffers producing and distributing them. I had no such intention from the start.

My original plan had been to use the prize money from that chess-like board game tournament as capital, but the estimates had come back wildly short. No matter how simple the materials, I hadn't realized that mass production would demand a budget beyond anything I'd pictured. In the end, I was merely a man who loved board games — whether that counted as a virtue or a vice.

A dedicated bell and card set for Kylegalli, workers to engrave the geometric designs onto the cards, and if we're doing the knights' house rules, special cards and bells for those too...

And now that I'd gone and prepared the newly minted Spirit Poker on top of it all, there was no telling how much money it would devour.

That was the entirety of what I wanted from the Duke.

"Funding... funding for the propagation of board games."

"That's right. I'm not asking for continuous financing — just a certain amount of seed money, and—"

"...Ha, haha! Hahahaha!! I, myself — the ruler of the West — Nicholas van Everts — declared I would grant anything, and even THAT comes back to board games! Hahahahaha!!!"

"...Your Grace?"

"Haha... ha. So all my efforts weren't wasted after all. It took a madman of precisely this caliber to manage it."

Only after laughing like a lunatic did the Duke finally stop, and then — unlike the complicated, deflated, and grave expressions he'd worn before — he broke into a wide, easy grin and continued.

"Yes, funding I can provide in any amount. If you need money, I can give you capital. If you need manpower, I can dispatch master craftsmen. What's more, with the ducal house's connections, I can help spread those board games of yours far and wide."

"Ohh...!!"

"However, you may choose only one. Money, manpower, or connections. The reward you receive shall be one of the three. What will it be?"

It was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slight retreat from his earlier declaration that anything at all would be granted.

But honestly, even this was beyond my wildest gratitude, so I nodded meekly. Pushing my luck here and souring the Duke's mood would gain me nothing.

"If you want more than that, you need only remain at the ducal castle even longer."

"My apologies, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but that won't be possible. I have commitments at Viscount Byron's estate."

"Very well. Then choose one. On my name, I guarantee it will be provided."

I could, of course, stay at the castle as the Duke suggested and collect additional rewards.

But the whole point of the reward was to spread board games ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— if I got swallowed up by the reward itself and the spreading was delayed, that would defeat the purpose.

Kylegalli had already taken root to some degree at the Byron estate, so that was the natural place to begin promoting the games. If it were truly urgent, I could always come stay in the duchy later. Whether he'd still honor the offer then was another question.

In any case, if I had to pick one of the three, there was only one answer.

"I'll take the connections, Your Grace."

"A wise choice."

Money and manpower could be managed somehow, but connections were the one thing I couldn't conjure myself.

If Kylegalli and Spirit Poker were introduced to noble society and the duchy under the name of House Everts, the ripple effect would be tremendous — whether that ripple turned out to be a flop or a sensation remained to be seen.

But spreading them through connections required something to come first.

Money.

I'd need to manufacture the games in bulk before House Everts could promote them or not.

Handmade copies of Kylegalli and Spirit Poker numbering only a handful would accomplish nothing no matter how they were distributed. Mass production was the prerequisite for the ducal house's connections to shine at all.

...And somehow I'd circled right back to the starting point. The fact that I needed an absurd amount of money.

What am I going to do?

The options that came to mind were borrowing from a merchant guild, or finding investors.

The merchant guilds were in the capital, and even if I approached them, it was doubtful how much I could borrow under the name Kyle Byron rather than Viscount Byron's house. As for investment — finding an investor in the first place was the problem.

Just as I was wracking my brains over the money question—

"...Well, I suppose I could offer a little more assistance on top of that."

"Your Grace?"

"Take this."

Thump.

What the Duke casually tossed over was a letter. Lavishly ornamented and painstakingly sealed... bearing the crest of the Magic Tower.

Wait. The Magic Tower?

"This is...?"

"It's a letter sent to every family of means in the West. No doubt your family received one as well."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Open it and you'll understand. But more importantly—"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I, bewildered by the sudden letter, and the Duke, chuckling with confidence, both turned our heads at the same moment.

...Toward the sparrow spirit pecking at the drawing room window.

"What is it saying?"

"...That it's nearly time, and I'm to hurry over at once."

"My daughter must treasure the hours she spends with you indeed. Off you go, then. And be sure to tell her that today is the last day."

"Don't worry, Your Grace."

"It's not you I'm worried about. Raysia may very well try to bind you to her with spirits. Even as a child, she never once let go of a doll she truly loved."

"...That's a terrible joke, hahaha!"

It was a joke, right? He said it while laughing, so it was a joke. ...Right?

*

The Magic Tower.

Unlike the Imperial Academy in the capital, this was where those came who sought not a liberal education but the true path of magic itself. It was also famous for being a ruthlessly meritocratic society — the moment you stepped inside, there was no commoner or noble, only talent.

Red blood or blue, nothing mattered in magic but ability... or so it was said.

In the end, the Magic Tower was still a place where people lived, and because it existed within the vast frame of the Empire, noble mages started out considerably advantaged, even if never overtly. Commoners began at Rank 0, unable even to enter apprenticeship, while nobles began at Rank 1, granted better masters and better opportunities — discrimination that persisted in the shadows.

And yet, with four of the Empire's Six Great Towers headed by mages of common birth, it remained unquestionably the most equal place in the realm.

One of the Six Great Towers, located in the Empire's West: Arkhe.

In that tower, dedicated to the study of light and dark magic, an old man and a girl were pulling their hair out in perfect harmony.

"Again... it's happened again? What year is this even?"

"...This makes seven years, Tower Master."

"Damn it all."

As was customary for those who studied magic at Arkhe, both of them had gone bone-white. An old man clutching his thinning hair as he flipped through documents and ledgers with desperate frenzy, and a white-haired girl assisting him with a face devoid of all expression.

Would anyone believe this old man was one of the Six Great Tower Masters, a Grand Mage? That was how far the tower had fallen.

"It's enough to drive a man out of his mind. Money — money pours in like this... and even that isn't enough?"

"To be precise, our expenditures run three times our income. We have survived the past seven years of crushing deficits on our reserves, but..."

"...Spare me the details, Adela."

"At current reserves and projected spending... we have one year."

"One year! ONE YEAR!"

In a single year's time, I would go down in history as the legendary Tower Master who shrank the Six Great Towers to five.

The Tower Master slumped back in his chair and let out a long, deep sigh, then turned to the white-haired girl he had called Adela.

"What became of the letters we sent to the noble houses of the West...? We must find some way to sell that thing on the first floor. It's the only answer left..."

"Letters were sent to one hundred and thirty-four houses. One hundred and eight replied."

"And setting aside the polite form letters — how many genuine replies?"

"Not one."

"Goddamn it all...!!"

The moment the Tower Master clutched the back of his neck, feeling his carefully lowered blood pressure come to a boil all over again—

the office door, buried as it was beneath papers and figures, burst open.

Bang!

"T-Tower Master! Someone has come from the House of Everts!"

"Is that true!?"

The House of Everts. The letter they had labored hardest over — and the very house they had judged would never lift a finger to help.

He knew Duke Nicholas well enough to be certain the man would never buy that thing on the first floor, and yet he had been unable to surrender hope regardless.

Never had he dreamed of being betrayed in such a wonderful way!

"Wh-who came? Could it be His Grace himself!? No — it doesn't matter. I shall go and greet them myself!"

"Tower Master!? His Grace hasn't even come in person — for you to move yourself is..."

"Is that what matters right now!? At this rate, we're headed for bankruptcy, and an utterly undeserved one at that!!"

Shouting down the mage who tried to restrain him, the Tower Master swept rapidly down toward the first floor of the tower. For a Grand Mage who studied light and reproduced it through magic, such a distance was nothing — a span crossed faster than a blink.

Arriving on the first floor in an instant, the Tower Master looked around in haste, then quickly spotted something and furrowed his brow.

That money-guzzling monstrosity!

The object synonymous with Arkhe Tower itself — the colossal game board that had, in ages past, carried Arkhe into the ranks of the Six Great Towers. It was a magnificent landmark, allowing players to move life-sized pieces through light and dark magic in a game grander than any ordinary person could dream of.

And at the same time, its ruinous upkeep had long since turned it into a white elephant.

Tearing his gaze from the colossal game board that twisted his stomach anew with every glance, the Tower Master searched once more for the visitors said to have come from House Everts. The tower's gates were closed today in anticipation of exactly these guests, so finding people in the vast hall was easy enough.

A young man who looked an outsider at a glance, and a servant girl carrying the faint trace of mana — both caught his eye.

"Hmm, might you be the ones from the House of Everts? Welcome! I am the Tower Master of Arkhe—"

"Oh."

"Young master...?"

"—Hm?"

The impossibly young nobleman and his servant, come from the House of Everts —

were not, as first-time visitors to the tower invariably were, standing awestruck before the colossal game board.

"So it was actually possible...?"

"...?"

"A GIANT BOARD GAME...!!"

His grin stretched to its very limit, the young man was drowning in pure euphoria.

"Th-that's right! If it's you, young master, anything is possible!!"

A youth grinning wide enough to split his face, and a maid sidling up to him without a trace of distance, giggling all the while.

Before that scene of unbridled madness, the Tower Master found himself — quite unconsciously — taking a step back...