Food First
"I met an interesting kid yesterday," Celia said, taking a sip of her tea.
Hermann, seated across from her, did not answer right away. The elderly man finished reviewing every last page of the documents in his hands, marked the spots where the ink had bled, and only then lifted his head.
"A kid, you say?"
"Mm. He's eighteen, so I think that still counts."
"It's been quite some time since you've brought up a person first, Lady Celia."
"Have I really been that uninterested in people?"
Hermann said nothing. He saw no particular need to answer.
Celia pushed a scroll across the desk with one finger. It was an old scrap of paper, blackened and burned through the middle. The mana-stone dust clinging to its edges had long since lost its luster, and more than half of the crimson magic formula drawn across it had been wiped away.
Hermann picked it up.
"This is a spent Fireball scroll. The mana stones are completely burned out, and most of the core calculation section has been lost."
"So they say."
"'So they say'?"
"I don't use scrolls much myself."
Celia cast her magic directly. She saw no reason to spend good money storing spells on paper and carrying them around. How much mana-stone dust to mix when crafting a scroll, how many times you could fold one before it broke — those were things the Tower's researchers knew far better than she did. It wasn't her field.
"So why, then, did you bring this piece of scrap?"
"That kid looked at it and made a Fireball."
Hermann's hands went still. He examined the hole burned through the scroll once more, then looked up at Celia.
"Made one? From this?"
"Mm."
"Impossible."
The answer came fast. Hermann had spent a long time studying magic. He hadn't become Deputy Master of the White Magic Tower for nothing. Knowing a great deal was a fine thing — except for the habit of declaring anything he didn't understand impossible.
Celia lifted her teacup.
"I saw it myself."
"He must have hidden another scroll."
"There wasn't one."
"He could have used a magic tool, or someone else might have cast the spell for him."
"He was alone in that abandoned warehouse. The only thing in his hands was that scroll."
Hermann still looked unconvinced.
"Where did you even meet someone like that?"
"On the outskirts of the city."
It had been on her way back yesterday. There was no particular reason for the detour — the weather had been nice, so she'd taken a slightly longer route home, and happened to pass an old abandoned warehouse. That was when a Fireball, trailing stone dust, skimmed right past her face.
Thinking it might be an ambush, she'd peered inside — and found a boy in rags staring happily at a hole he'd blown through the wall. He'd been aiming for a jar, apparently. He'd missed by quite a lot.
"What did the boy say?"
"That yesterday was the first time he'd ever used magic."
"A lie."
"He said he made it by looking at that scroll."
"Also a lie."
"He said he has no master, either."
"That part I can believe."
Celia looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because a properly trained mage would never tell such an absurd lie."
It was a fair point. The boy hadn't looked like a mage at all. His clothes had been torn in places, and there were even burn holes in the sleeves. His shoes looked like something he'd scavenged that didn't quite fit. Just another beggar you might see on any street corner. Which only made the whole thing stranger.
"I called him here so we could check."
"Called whom?"
"The kid."
Hermann's face creased slightly.
"You gave him a Tower invitation token?"
"Mm."
"To a vagrant you'd just met?"
"Mm."
"But why on earth—"
"You'll understand once you see him."
Celia turned her gaze toward the window. The White Magic Tower stood right beside the Tower Plaza, overlooking both the massive entrance into the Tower itself and the entire square below. Today, as always, climbers stood in a long line, while porters and merchants bustled between them.
A small commotion was unfolding on one side of the plaza. A black-haired boy in rags and two guards were arguing over a silver token between them. It was the same boy from the warehouse yesterday.
"Right on time."
Hermann looked down through the window as well.
"He really is a beggar."
Even Celia found that hard to deny.
"I didn't steal it, I'm telling you."
The guard didn't believe a word. He held the silver token up to the sunlight, flipped it over, ran his fingers over the emblem again and again. His expression didn't improve. If anything, confirming it was genuine only made him look at me with deeper suspicion.
"The seal of the White Magic Tower is real. Which makes it even stranger that you have it."
"I received it yesterday."
"From whom?"
"A woman with silver hair in a white robe. About this tall, and she was carrying a staff."
I roughly indicated a height with my hand. The two guards glanced at each other, and one of them laughed as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"So a mage whose name you don't even know just handed you a Tower invitation?"
"Yes."
"For what reason?"
"I showed her some magic, and she told me to come to the Tower entrance today."
The guard's eyes slowly raked over my clothes — the frayed pants, the torn shirt, the sleeves still sporting holes from yesterday's Fireball practice. It was annoying, but I understood. Anyone looking at me would think beggar before mage. And until yesterday, that assessment wouldn't have been wrong.
"Just tell us where you stole it and we'll leave it at handing you over to the city guard."
"…You know what, forget it. Just give the token back. I won't go in."
Losing the free meal was a shame, but it beat going to jail. I held out my hand. Instead of returning the token, the guard rested his hand on the sword at his hip.
Maybe I should just go home.
"Leon, is that correct?"
A woman's voice came from the Tower entrance. A neatly dressed woman in white was descending the stairs. The moment the guards recognized her face, they snapped to attention.
"The Master is waiting. I will escort this gentleman myself."
"A guest of the Master?"
"She gave the order personally this morning."
The guard's expression went rigid. I took the invitation token back from him. I'd expected at least an apology, but the man only worked his lips a few times and said nothing at all.
"This way, please."
I followed the woman into the White Magic Tower.
The inside of the Tower was far larger than it had looked from outside. The ceilings were several times higher than the warehouse roof, and the floors were so clean you could drop a piece of bread and pick it right back up. Not that I planned to. Today, I was going to get a proper meal.
"About the white-haired woman I met yesterday," I said.
"Yes?"
"Is she the Master of the White Magic Tower?"
"That's correct. Master Celia."
Celia, Master of the White Magic Tower. Spend any time around the Tower and you heard that name whether you wanted to or not — a mage who'd climbed to the high floors, someone even the kingdom didn't treat lightly, the strongest in the White Magic Tower. Nobody ever mentioned what she looked like, though. No wonder her clothes had been so clean. Still, I hadn't expected her to be the Master.
"The Master is waiting in her office."
"Can I eat first? I'm seriously about to starve to death."
"After you've met with the Master, then you may—"
"Urgh… I've gone a whole week without food, and my consciousness is starting to…"
The woman studied my face for a long moment, then let out a deep sigh.
"…Very well. I'll take you to the dining hall first."
She called over a staff member standing nearby.
"Inform the Master that I've taken Leon to the dining hall first. Tell her he'll present himself as soon as he's finished eating."
"Understood."
The staff member hurried off toward the corridor leading to the meeting rooms.
"Shall we?"
"Haha. Thank you."
It really does pay to speak up.
As we walked the corridor, text kept flashing across my vision.
> Unregistered magic formula detected.
> Recording observational data.
> Insufficient samples for analysis.
The patterns carved into the walls, the lights floating near the ceiling, even the metal boxes gliding up and down on their own — everything here ran on magic. After eighteen years of hunting for samples, this place had them lying around underfoot.
I would have liked a closer look, but the smell of meat wafting from up ahead was more important.
The moment I stepped into the dining hall, food arrived as if it had been waiting. A soup with meat in it, freshly baked bread, and some vegetable dish whose name I didn't know. Just the smell made my mouth water.
"I'll come back for you in twenty minutes. Please take your time."
"Thank you."
I sat down and grabbed the bread first. The crust was crisp, but the inside was soft enough that my finger sank right in. I tore it in half, dunked it in the soup, and watched the warm broth soak through.
I took a bite.
"…It's good."
There was meat in it, too. Chunks bigger than my fingernail. I was moving my spoon when my vision suddenly blurred. At first I thought it was just the steam rising from the soup.
"…Sniff."
No time to wipe anything away.
Clatter. Clatter.
Before long, the dining hall door opened. The silver-haired woman from the warehouse walked in first, followed by a stern-looking middle-aged man.
"You really did start with the meal," the silver-haired woman said, looking at the dishes in front of me.
"…I was hungry."
"Good. Keep eating."
Permission granted, I fished another piece of meat out of the soup. The silver-haired woman sat down across from me. The middle-aged man took the seat beside her and set a blackened, burned-out scroll on the table. The very same one I'd picked up at the scrapyard.
"I should introduce myself. I'm Celia. I run the White Magic Tower."
"Yes. I heard earlier."
"Not even surprised?"
"Getting surprised makes me hungrier."
Celia let out a short laugh.
"You're more entertaining than I expected." She gestured to the man beside her. "This is Hermann, Deputy Master of the White Magic Tower."
"Nice to meet you."
Hermann gave the briefest nod in response, then pushed the scroll across the table toward me.
"You used a Fireball after looking at this, correct?"
"Yes."
"Who taught you?"
"No one."
"Then who restored the missing formula?"
My spoon stopped mid-motion.
If they're asking who did it — well, the AI did.
But if I said the Nano AI in my head had cross-referenced eighteen years of collected data and restored it, would they even understand?
Of course they wouldn't.
I'd have to explain what Nano was, what artificial intelligence was, and maybe even that I'd originally lived in another world. The second I opened my mouth, this would spiral out of control.
"Well…"
Hermann waited for my answer. I took a bite of bread for no good reason. Chewing longer didn't produce a better reply.
"Anyway, I can use it again."
I gave up on explaining. Hermann's eyes narrowed.
"So you don't even know the principles behind the magic you use?"
"I know them."
"Then explain."
"I don't know how to explain them."
Hermann's expression hardened further. The more I talked, the worse this felt. Celia watched me for a moment, then pointed at the empty bowl.
"All done?"
"Yes."
I mopped up the last of the broth with a piece of bread. Celia stood first.
"Then instead of explaining with words — could you show us?"
"That I can do."
I looked at the bread still left on the table. It was a pretty decent size to just leave behind.
"Can I take this with me?"
"Help yourself."
I tucked the bread into my clothes and followed the two of them out.