5. Mage Maya (3)
5. Mage Maya (3)
Name: Allen
Age: 30
Title: Thunder Sword
Occupation: Comic Actor
Recruitment Condition: Stub your toe on the threshold and fall forward, then express the 'Laugh' emotion as the Knight or Thief
Name: Joe
Age: 30
Title: Wind Sword
Occupation: Comic Actor
Recruitment Condition: Bang your head on the doorframe and fall backward, then express the 'Laugh' emotion as the Knight or Thief
Allen and Joe.
A comedy duo who appear as supporters in TT1.
Two men in shabby suits known for their slapstick antics.
On the surface, they looked like nothing more than comic relief, but both were actually exceptional swordsmen.
They'd built a reputation as mercenaries before stumbling onto a street comedy show one day, were deeply moved, and switched careers to become comic actors.
True to that backstory, their base stats were remarkably high.
So much so that the phrase "Newbies, shut up and take Allen and Joe" had attained something close to proverbial status among the fandom.
Their performance was so strong it threatened to break the early game's balance.
In fact, they were "hidden supporters" who couldn't be recruited through normal means.
Other supporters would show up in plain sight, offer quests, or openly demand something, making it obvious they were saying, "Do this for me, and I'll help you." But these two never did anything like that.
They appeared like extras passing through, then disappeared just as anonymously.
The fact that they could be recruited as supporters wasn't discovered until a few weeks after the game released.
The condition was very simple.
When either of them tripped, you just had to make the Knight or Thief laugh.
The TT series had a function for expressing the heroes' emotions—greeting, dancing, laughing, provoking, and so on.
Using it to uncover hidden elements was part of the series' charm.
Of course, back when TT1 first launched, that feature wasn't widely known, so it took some time to be found.
-Y-you laughed at our gag? Waaaaah.
-Sniff... we believe you. You really are heroes!
And just like that, two swordsmen joined up, mercilessly swinging their cane-swords from the start.
Left to their own devices, they'd clear the Stage 1 boss all by themselves.
So when I brought them to the hotel, I kept myself ready to laugh at any moment.
It wasn't hard at all.
When they bent down to pick up a fallen clock and cracked their heads together, I laughed.
When they tried to gulp down hot tea and sputtered it everywhere, I laughed.
When they stepped on each other's shoelaces and pitched forward, I laughed.
I laughed with real enthusiasm.
But they didn't react as enthusiastically as I'd expected.
I hadn't hoped for them to tear up with emotion like in TT1.
At the very least, I thought they'd show some gratitude.
Instead, they just shrugged, looking oddly smug.
The two swordsmen, having toured the circus troupe under my guidance, looked over the members, rattled off an excuse I'd heard many times before, and left the hotel.
It was a clear refusal.
My knowledge of the original story had failed me for the first time.
Why?
As I mulled it over, a description from their character sheets came to mind.
-Three years had passed since their debut, and they were despondent at having failed to gain any real popularity. Then the heroes laughed at their gags! They will do anything for their fans.
Three years since they debuted...
The problem was, that was all from the point in time when TT1 takes place.
Right now, we were two and a half years before TT1.
In other words, they'd only debuted six months ago.
They hadn't yet gone through three years of obscurity, so they weren't desperate for people's reactions the way they'd be later.
In the end, all I'd done was humiliate myself to boost the egos of those two hacks.
I could only hope they didn't go around saying things like, "You know, the leader of the Wonderstein Circus Troupe thinks very highly of us."
Our "Circus Troupe Fame" stat was already low enough; if it dropped any further, we'd be in real trouble.
And just like that, my attempt to recruit the two swordsmen fell through.
The snake-charmer woman was a character I didn't know, so I gave her a perfunctory invitation and sent her on her way.
I opened the "Member Management" window in midair.
*Member Management (10/12)
Maximum recruitable members: 12.
Current members: 10.
Deputy Leader, Ella.
Spider Woman, Yurakne.
Red-Blood Ogre, Umon.
Skeleton Clown, Sven.
Mummy, Bandik.
Dwarf, Yobel.
First Triplet, Hansten.
Second Triplet, Dunedol.
Third Triplet, Sebram.
Stone, Merisa.
Ten members, but the number who actually performed was smaller.
Ella served as emcee and didn't go on stage.
The triplets had separate Affection levels and rewards, but in practice, it was fair to count them as one.
And Merisa, turned to stone, was being carted around in the wagon's cargo hold.
She was out of the lineup.
So you could say only six people actually performed.
Was this really going to work with just them?
Anxiety crept in. In the original story, the Monster Circus Troupe could wield demonic power because they were backed by Wonderstein's strength.
But the power I possessed didn't match the original Wonderstein's. Of course, I had the weapon of future knowledge. But as with Derek last time, elements from the future could turn into threats, and as with Allen and Joe this time, future knowledge could prove useless.
I couldn't afford to feel complacent.
Lost in thought, I eventually reached the end of the square.
Rouge's central plaza teemed with acrobats showing off their skills.
Even here, there was a distinct section set apart from the rest.
An area enclosed by white screens.
A place where illusion mages displayed their talents.
Illusion Magic. As the name implied, it conjured false images to deceive people's eyes. It was used in performances to create backgrounds, props, special effects, and the like.
Several illusion spells had been employed during the stage production of Count Wolfenstein that Ella had taken part in.
I'd found that interesting, too. It was a spectacle I couldn't have experienced in reality.
-Why don't we hire an illusion mage, too?
-Hmm, I don't know... Illusions look flashy and impressive, sure, but... well, they always feel a bit unnatural, a bit obvious. On that front, I'm more traditional. Well-crafted props are far more natural and have a charm of their own.
Ella had held to that preference with a kind of firm uncertainty.
Listening to her, I remembered something a film director once said.
Hadn't he said he preferred building real props and sets over CG?
Was it something like that?
I respected Ella's stubbornness.
But recently, while preparing a preview show ahead of the opening ceremony, my thinking had changed.
The "strawberry-jam watermelon head" Yurakne used when acting out smashing someone's skull, and the "bone candy" that crunched in Umon's mouth—those were disposable. One use and they were gone. So every single time they rehearsed, Ella had to spend hours remaking the same things. All while handling the backdrops and costumes at the same time.
Yesterday, I'd seen her nodding off as she crafted a prop.
Would she be able to hold up once the real performances began? I'd set the Ratmen to gradually teaching her some skills, but there were clear limits. We needed Illusion Magic.
Before stepping through the screen, I read the warning sign beside it.
[Illusion Magic must not leave this area.]
I looked at the notice, whose forcefully inked strokes seemed almost palpable, and gave a wry smile.
Over the past week, all manner of illusions had thrown Rouge into chaos.
A spider the size of a house appearing in the middle of the road, fake flames consuming buildings, silent wagons racing through thin air.
All of it had been performances staged by illusion mages.
They, too, were doing their utmost to show off their skills in hopes of being recruited by a major troupe.
Under the Circus Grand Prix rules, "mages" were treated the same as acrobats—people who "took the stage." In other words, they were subject to the same restrictions on transferring and recruitment during the competition period. Although there weren't many cases of mages working as full performers, this was a perfectly sensible policy. A mage's magic was no different from an acrobat's acrobatics. If a knife-throwing expert threw knives from offstage, you couldn't call that anything but acrobatics, could you?
So, like the acrobats, they were scrambling to catch the eye of a major troupe before the opening ceremony.
The illusion mages' section was, at least, more sedate than the acrobats'.
They were closer to inventors showing off their creations at a technology expo than busking entertainers.
"Now, behold! My finest work—twenty-four dancing flames!"
A mage opened his palm. Dazzling streams of colored light appeared above it, leaving trails as they spun in every direction.
A few onlookers let out exclamations of awe. Most were local residents or tourists out for a stroll.
The expressions of those who looked like circus officials were cold.
"Tch. What do they think the Circus Grand Prix is?"
"They're trying to mask a lack of skill with cheap tricks."
"The light movement is simplistic, too. Look at the trajectories—it's just going back and forth."
"A talent that would only work at a village fair."
Unlike the general public, they didn't think much of things that were merely pleasant eye candy—colorful flames, flashy lightning storms, and the like.
In Illusion Magic, packing effects with bright colors and sparkles was one of the easiest techniques. Introducing something like that as your finest work was proof your true skill was abysmal. People who knew the circus judged illusions by different standards.
They paid attention to subtlety, not spectacle. They paid attention to realism, not flashiness.
"Oh, look at this marten's fur. Doesn't it seem to ripple naturally in the breeze?"
"An exceptionally elaborate illusion. Impressive. And what about that tin doll over there?"
"The texture's incredibly lifelike. I can almost smell the iron."
An illusion mage's skill lay in building a meticulously detailed reality. To faithfully realize the backdrops and special effects a circus required, conjuring a few sparks in the air was utterly useless.
In that case, you'd be better off just hiring a fire juggler and forgoing Illusion Magic altogether.
I moved among the crowd, examining the illusions on display.
That was when I noticed a section of the crowd gravitating toward a corner. People were murmuring as they looked at someone.
"An illusion?"
"Look at the gait, the movement of the eyes! How can someone reproduce a person that naturally? It's impossible. Why would someone like that be on a street corner? They must have already applied to a top-tier troupe."
"Could be. Let's just watch. That girl's an illusion mage too, right?"
"As skilled as she is beautiful, I wonder..."
What was all the commotion about?
Standing behind the crowd, I looked toward where everyone's attention was fixed.
Hair as white as snow. Features arranged in proportions so perfect they seemed like a master craftsman's doll. Eyes as cold as ice.
I drew a silent breath of admiration. If not for The Smiling Man, I would have gasped out loud in surprise like the others. But my reason was different. I was shocked by the very fact that she was here.
One of the three heroes—the protagonists of the Tril Trillo series.
Mage Maya.
She looked younger than the one I knew,
but it was unmistakably her.