Standing Out #6
I must have first devised those new magic formulas around the same time I was refining my swordsmanship with Edwin.
Back then, no matter what I tried—blade or spell—I couldn't see a single path toward growth. So I settled for the next best thing. I figured that if I contributed to the design of new sword techniques, or created superior magic formulas, I could cover for my own shortcomings well enough. That way, even if I couldn't swing a sword, I'd still be treated with respect. Even if I couldn't cast a spell, the people who could would still acknowledge me.
But I came to understand something. No matter how brilliant a sword technique I invented, no matter how elegant and simple a magic formula I unveiled—in the end, the work would be judged by the standing of the person who made it. The thought that something I'd poured enormous effort into might never see the light of day because of that kind of prejudice was one I simply couldn't accept.
So I put the sword techniques out under Edwin's name, and the magic formulas under the name of the man sitting beside me now—Fryn, Deputy Tower Master of the Magic Tower. Then I turned my attention to fields of study that didn't involve actual combat. That decision turned out to be a rather good one. As I can see now, the treatment a piece of work receives changes dramatically depending on who designed it. Even at the Academy's academic festival, the evaluation of a student's paper would be a little harsher or a little more generous depending on what kind of grades that student had been pulling.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course I am. Who would dare take the Deputy Tower Master's words lightly?"
"Sadly, most of the mages in the Magic Tower take them very lightly. They're all so obsessed with their own research that they only pretend to listen when the Tower Master is announcing precautions—or, more to the point, who gets research funding."
"…Mages really do have it rough. From the outside, it looks like such a romantic profession."
"Oh, there's romance, all right. If wrestling with magic from the day you enter the Magic Tower to the day you leave counts as romance, then sure."
Honestly, the first time I heard the words mage of the Magic Tower, it had sounded impossibly grand. The name alone carried weight. The Magic Tower—a vast tree where every branch of magic gathered into a single trunk. Anyone hearing about it for the first time was bound to fill their head with fantasies and romantic notions. Magic itself was wondrous enough, and unlike swordsmanship, which existed for the absolute purpose of killing, magic found its way into everyday life with remarkable ease. On top of that, magic held a proud place as a legitimate field of scholarship rather than some flashy mana sideshow, so the Magic Tower—the very heart of that discipline—couldn't help but become a vessel for those fantasies.
Of course, anyone who actually saw the inside of the place would realize those fantasies had been nothing more than that. I'd heard as much from Fryn himself. The Tower was packed with eccentrics beyond anything you could imagine, and producing even a single achievement required not only time and effort but research funding—in other words, money.
There was a saying that no wealthy mage had ever existed. At first I'd dismissed it as something somebody had made up. Mage talent was scarce, and the things they could accomplish were countless. Nobody in their right mind would work them for free, and they certainly knew their own worth—so why wouldn't they be able to accumulate wealth?
And then—ta-da. It was true.
It was the same reason I'd so cleanly given up on becoming a mage myself. Implementing a single new spell required an enormous quantity of materials, from the most basic mana-infused parchment to every kind of byproduct harvested from monsters. All of it cost money, and those lumps of gold vanished in astronomical amounts. As I'd said, magic wasn't just a flash of light and then it was over. It was a genuine academic discipline—one that, in this world, stood in for mathematics and physics. That meant constant research, and every last material that research required was expensive. Not ordinary expensive. Filthy, curse-out-loud expensive.
People said money wasn't everything, but it occupied an awful lot of everything. War, politics, power—all of them ultimately came down to money, which was precisely why money mattered. And if magic wasn't merely a money-eating hippo but something closer to a money-devouring ghost, then I had no reason whatsoever to hitch my life to it. I didn't want to become a slave to money—but I didn't want to become a slave for lack of it, either. You needed a comfortably full purse before you could do anything at all. That was the kind of person I was. And if anyone wanted to call that mercenary, I'd ask them whether they were really in a position to be so high-minded. Anyone who'd actually tasted the humiliation of having no money would know just how stupid that accusation sounded.
"Why aren't you answering? You've got your swordsmanship back. Time to go reclaim those magic formulas too."
"And what happens to you if I do, Deputy Tower Master?"
"Oh, please. I'll grant that you're remarkable. But you're not at the level where you need to worry about me."
"No, I do need to worry. Precisely because you're the Deputy Tower Master—that's why I have to worry even more. You think the Magic Tower doesn't have internal factional conflicts? You know I have other acquaintances in the Tower besides you. From what they've told me, it may not be quite as bad as a political arena, but the factions are very much real."
"Why would anyone go telling a kid that kind of useless nonsense."
He grumbled, but he didn't deny the existence of the factions. If even the Deputy Tower Master wouldn't refute it, that meant the Magic Tower currently had a fair amount of internal strife.
I knew there were several reasons those factions had formed, but the biggest one by far was the question of magic's accessibility. On one side were the mages who insisted that magic ought to remain something ordinary people could never casually reach. On the other were those who argued that magic should be researched until it was simpler and more universal, so that anyone in the world could implement it with ease. Those two camps were the source of the Tower's most significant conflict at present.
Deputy Tower Master Fryn belonged to the latter group—the ones who believed that even common folk shouldn't find magic impossibly difficult. That was exactly why I had developed simpler, easier magic formulas and given him all the credit, raising his standing within the Magic Tower. People who wanted to share their own privileges with others. The more of those people there were, the more smoothly we could step into a new world without some enormous conflict down the line.
That said, the argument that magic ought to remain hard to reach isn't entirely wrong either.
Mages liked to say that swordsmanship had its origins in killing. But magic, too, was a discipline that had advanced in great leaps precisely because it was useful in war. I didn't need to look far for proof. I'd nearly injured my classmates while trying to implement a spell, and Professor Raven had taken a minor wound trying to stop me. Even I—someone who, for all my inability to actually cast, had still received a formal education—had managed that. If ordinary citizens of the kingdom, people who knew nothing at all, started using magic and an accident occurred, the result would be on an entirely different scale from taking a wooden sword to the arm and walking away with a bruise. That was precisely the disaster the Magic Tower's mages feared, and why they insisted that magic must never reach those who hadn't received a proper education.
At any rate, from the opposing faction's point of view, a Deputy Tower Master who kept trying to make magic easier and more convenient would be a considerable burden—and a considerable irritation. In that climate, if it came out that the newly created magic formulas weren't actually his work but mine, they could seize on that as a pretext to drag Fryn down from the Deputy Tower Master's seat. Occupying a high place meant it was that much easier to fall. In the Magic Tower, the highest and greatest headquarters of all magic, the Deputy Tower Master was quite literally the second-in-command. Plenty of people had their eyes on that seat, and even more wanted it. There was no shortage of those waiting for any chance, by any means, to shove him out and take the vacancy for themselves.
"There you go thinking something stupid again. Fine. As you say, there are people who find it uncomfortable that someone who emphasizes the universality of magic is sitting in the Deputy Tower Master's chair. But at the end of the day, the Magic Tower is a wellspring of scholarship. It is not a place generous enough for people who've fallen into political games to come in and last. They'll grumble a bit, and then at the end of it all they'll say, 'That Lucian fellow—we should summon him to the Magic Tower at once.' The place is crawling with people who've lost their minds over magic. That's what I'm telling you."
Fryn clicked his tongue, making it clear that he knew dozens of times more about the Magic Tower than I did. And he had a point. The Tower's Inspectorate strictly forbade any conflict that wasn't rooted in academic or ethical grounds, so the moment anyone spoke or acted with an internal political goal in mind, they'd be out of the Magic Tower on the spot. The odds that I was worrying over nothing, just as he said, were overwhelmingly high.
"…Even so, I still have no intention of doing it."
"And the reason? Don't tell me you're actually thinking of becoming a knight."
"I do want to keep holding first place in swordsmanship, of course. But I've never once considered becoming a knight. And honestly, I don't think I ever will."
"Then why refuse my offer? There's not a single thing you'd lose by taking it."
"Later. When I truly decide I need them, I'll take them back myself, even if you tell me not to. So for a while longer, Deputy Tower Master, I'm going to need you to keep bearing with it."
Fryn let out a sigh of sheer disbelief. This was a chance to spread his name across the whole of Lebechia all over again. Other people would be climbing the walls for an opportunity like this, he added—so what on earth was I being so calm about?
"There's no benefit to the timing overlapping like this. I'm still young. No—I should say I'm still a child. That means plenty of people will look at me favorably, and just as many will look at me with suspicion. Dealing with all of that one by one would split my skull open. I have no interest in going out of my way to make my own life harder."
"So you'll build your name further from where you are now, enlarge your vessel, and only then accept it."
"That's right. Edwin helped me with the swordsmanship, but the magic is something I did entirely on my own. I'll take the credit once I've grown my magical ability to the point that all of Lebechia can accept it. Deputy Tower Master."
Fryn clicked his tongue and exhaled another long sigh. Unbelievable. He won't even take what's being handed to him. Do whatever you want, you little brat. He'd come all this way after giving it real thought, only to be turned down. Even I would have felt a little sour in his place.
"I'm sorry, Deputy Tower Master."
"Forget it. As you said, you started it, so it's only right that you see it through to the end. I was only holding onto it for a little while. I have neither reason nor right to complain. You'll handle it as you see fit. More importantly."
Fryn glanced around, then continued in a passing tone.
"I heard from a junior of mine that your magic is a bit dangerous. Is that true?"
"…Yes. And that's Professor Raven putting it kindly. I think it's considerably dangerous."
"If it's that kid saying so—and not just anybody—then it's serious. All right. Let's hear it properly. Until recently you were being called a hopeless case who couldn't even implement basic magic. So why are you getting that kind of evaluation now?"
"Well… during magic class earlier, Professor Raven mentioned applied magic. I'll try that. It's simple. Just produce a bit of wind carrying a chill…"
Holding that thought, I pictured the magic in my mind once more, just as Senior Charlotte had taught me. I'd already been warned that it was extremely dangerous, so this time I'd keep it as weak as possible—as weak as I possibly could…
"…Stop. That's enough. Don't."
I hadn't gotten far at all before Deputy Tower Master Fryn cut me off.