Magic Tower Lord Bertolt de Rasid
Hisssss—!
With a great blast of steam, the continent-crossing train ground to a halt.
"We have arrived. Esterium Station."
At the attendant's announcement we gathered our bags and stepped down from the train.
The moment my feet touched the platform I felt it—a heavy, artificial scent of mana utterly unlike the cold air of the northern snowfields.
"Hmm."
Kyra wrinkled her nose.
Ordinarily her hair was a mysterious blend of four colors, but right now the deep blackish-teal of a mage's instinct ran thickest through it.
Out of habit she tried to gauge the ambient mana density, sniffed once, and promptly pinched her nostrils shut.
"Ugh… the air's filthy. They refine mana so hard the dregs just float around. Magic Tower types really only care about efficiency."
"Do they? This lady finds it rather pleasant. Smells delicious, even."
Serapagnia, completely unbothered, only sniffed harder and peered around with open curiosity.
I'd heard that dragons' noses had long since rotted from the cloudy concentrations of mana that humans and other races exhaled… and it seemed the rumor was true.
We left the station and stepped out into the streets of Esterium.
"Whoa…"
A low whistle of admiration escaped me the moment I looked around.
Esterium.
Holy land of mages, the city where every scrap of the continent's technology had been concentrated.
True to its reputation, the view was overwhelming.
People on brooms and flying carpets wheeled through the sky like flocks of birds, while wheel-less magitech carriages glided soundlessly along the roads.
Buildings floated free of gravity or twisted into impossible geometric shapes.
Light elementals stood in for streetlamps, and shop signs rose into the air like holograms, actively hawking their wares.
Yeah… sights like this make it impossible to forget I'm living in a fantasy world.
"Oppa! Look over there! The statues are dancing!"
Serapagnia tugged my arm and pointed. At the fountain, stone figures were playing instruments and shooting jets of water in time with the music.
"Fascinating. Completely different from Argentina."
"Tacky, more like. Using magic for mere eye candy."
Kyra clicked her tongue, yet never loosened the grip she kept on my arm.
"Let's sightsee while we can. The old geezers from the Tower will be here soon enough."
"…Haha. Then we'd better hurry."
We strolled the streets like ordinary tourists.
We bought mana cotton candy from a street stall and even took commemorative photos in front of a moving portrait.
Of course, that peaceful sightseeing didn't last long.
"Pardon the interruption."
We had just left the square and entered the main avenue leading to the Magic Tower when a group of people in pure-white robes pulled up over their heads blocked our path.
On their chests was a crest of a hexagonal star overlaid with a staff.
Mages of the White Truth Magic Tower.
Conscious of the surrounding stares, they bowed with crisp precision.
"We have been waiting for you, Lady Kyra Bell Arenas."
The middle-aged mage at the front spoke with perfect courtesy that still somehow carried an undercurrent of arrogance.
"I am Jade, chief researcher, sent by the Tower Lord to receive you."
"My, faster than I expected. I was hoping to grab a bite first."
Kyra waved a hand as though the whole affair bored her.
Jade looked mildly distressed by her attitude, yet pressed on.
"The Tower Lord has awaited your arrival for a long time. He has given strict orders that we escort you to the Tower at once… Hrk?!"
Mid-sentence, Jade's gaze snagged on the small girl beside Kyra who was still tearing at a cloud of cotton candy.
His pupils shook as though an earthquake had hit them.
"Wh-White…"
He could not finish the word and stumbled backward.
He was not alone.
The other mages behind him likewise went deathly pale the moment they saw Serapagnia and began to tremble like aspen leaves.
As high-ranking Tower mages their mana-sensing ability was excellent—exactly why they had just detected the draconic presence rolling off the girl, a power that far exceeded human scale.
"L-Lady White Dragon… Emperor?"
Jade somehow clawed back a shred of composure and forced the words out.
"Why… why are you here…?"
The report had said only Kyra Bell Arenas was coming.
Yet the Dragon Lord herself—catastrophe of the continent—stood right in front of them in human form. It was enough to make anyone faint on the spot.
"Hmm?"
Serapagnia looked up from her cotton candy.
Her vertical-slit pupils fixed on Jade's face.
Every trace of playfulness vanished; in its place settled the cold, absolute pressure of a sovereign.
"Is there a problem with the path this lady walks…?"
Wooooong—!
A bone-chilling vibration filled the air; the atmosphere itself grew heavy.
Dragon Fear.
The authority that only dragons could wield, will given physical form.
She kept it as thin as possible—just enough to wrap the mages and our own group—so the damage would not spread… but that was more than enough.
More than enough to crush the insolence of a few mages.
Passersby never noticed, yet to anyone who handled mana it must have felt as though merely breathing squeezed the heart in a vice.
"Do you have complaints, you insignificant humans?"
"H-Hiiiik…!"
Thud. Thud.
Jade and every mage with him dropped to their knees as one.
They slammed their foreheads to the paving stones and cried out as if screaming.
"P-Please kill us if you must! Complaints? We would never dare!"
"W-We simply… received no word from the Tower Lord… and were so startled we committed a grave discourtesy! Please restrain your wrath, Lady White Dragon Emperor!"
Cold sweat poured down their faces like rain.
Instinct told them that one wrong word here and their bones and flesh could be separated in the middle of Esterium.
"Tsk. Noisy."
Serapagnia clicked her tongue and withdrew the Dragon Fear.
"Guide us properly. My accomplice… no, my companion is tired. Fetch a comfortable carriage."
"Yes! As you command! At once, the finest limousine carriage…!"
Jade scrambled on all fours toward his communicator and shouted into it.
Moments later a massive black magitech limousine bearing the Tower crest glided to a stop before us.
"Oh… it looks pretty sharp."
"A magitech limousine… so they managed to commercialize them?"
"A moving box of steel. Looks entertaining."
Under the mages' extreme escort we climbed aboard.
Thud.
The door shut and the carriage began to move at a leisurely pace.
Through the window I could see the heart of Esterium—the enormous white tower rising beyond the sky itself.
The White Truth Magic Tower… somewhere in its depths, Bertolt would be preparing the descent of an Outer God.
We're finally going in.
I clenched my fist.
Beside me Kyra grumbled that the carriage cushions were subpar, and Serapagnia whined, "Oppa, I want more cotton candy," yet my gaze stayed locked on the tower.
Look forward to it. I brought the reapers with me.
White Truth Magic Tower, top-floor reception chamber.
Through the floor-to-ceiling glass the entire panorama of Esterium lay spread out below. This was the private domain of the Tower's master and one of Rahelon's five great archmages—Bertolt de Rasid.
"Welcome. It is an honor that you would grace this humble place with your presence."
An elderly man in an exquisite white robe greeted us.
Long white beard, kindly features—the perfect outer shell of a respected elder mage. Yet somehow my eyes still caught the greedy shadow lurking behind that mask.
Even after all this time, that filthy face hasn't changed a bit.
Bertolt bowed politely to Kyra, then shifted his gaze sideways.
And—
"…!"
The instant he spotted Serapagnia, his eyebrows gave a minute twitch.
He did not gape the way Jade had, but the way his fingers tightened around the head of his staff was unmistakable.
Didn't see that coming, did you?
He had summoned only Kyra so he could size her up and cook her at leisure; having the Dragon Lord suddenly appear would unnerve anyone.
Yet he was a crafty old fox who had weathered every storm. Within a breath his expression was perfectly composed again.
"Oh my. We have another distinguished guest. To meet the White Dragon Emperor is an infinite honor."
"Hmph. You talk well enough."
Serapagnia flopped onto the sofa of honor and crossed her legs.
"This lady decided to tag along. You have no objections, I trust?"
"Far from it. It is a blessing."
Bertolt laughed it off without shedding a single drop of sweat.
He took his seat, offered tea, and finally broached the main subject.
"Lady Kyra. As I wrote in my letter, this invitation is not merely an offer of an honorary post within the Tower."
"Then what is it?"
Kyra idly turned her teacup, voice flat with disinterest.
Bertolt's eyes grew serious.
"I… wish to make Esterium a second Argentina."
"…What?"
"With Argentina gone, the continent's talents have nowhere to go. Countless geniuses and promising youths are left adrift. This is a blight on humanity's future."
He spread both arms, gesturing toward the vista of Esterium.
"I intend to found a new educational institution here, and I wish to install you as its headmaster. Every resource of my capital and the Tower's technology will be at your disposal."
…Oh-ho?
For someone who had hidden his identity as an apostle of the Outer Gods for decades, the pretext he offered was surprisingly polished.
Humanity's future, nurturing talent, a new hope.
Anyone who knew nothing would have been moved to tears by the speech.
But I knew the real meaning behind those words.
Gather talent… and use them as sacrifices.
An Outer God's descent required vast mana and the souls of the gifted.
Under the banner of an academy he would lure students in, then ship them straight to the underground laboratories.
And because I had already briefed Kyra, she saw straight through whatever purpose drove him.
"Hmm…"
Kyra propped her chin on one hand and stared steadily at Bertolt.
The color of her eyes shifted in a subtle way.
"A second academy. Not bad. I've been getting bored as an unemployed bum anyway."
When she responded positively, Bertolt's eyes lit up.
"Then you accept?"
"On one condition."
"Name it. I will grant anything."
Kyra cast a sidelong glance my way.
"Well… first I'd like a tour of the Tower's facilities. Especially… the research installations on the lowest underground floors that the whole continent whispers about. I'm terribly curious."
"…The underground floors, you say?"
At her completely unexpected demand Bertolt's expression froze for an instant.
The basement was where his secrets were buried—the place he least wanted anyone to see.
Yet he quickly arranged his features into a genial smile and nodded.
"Of course. Our Tower has nothing to hide. However…"
He paused deliberately.
"Below the fifth underground level we are currently handling high-security hazardous materials, so access may be restricted. If you will kindly understand that point, you are welcome anytime."
Security clearance, huh.
So that's where the Outer God's altar is?
I crowed inwardly.
Handing out the hints yourself… Bertolt, you're quite the soft touch.
"Fine. Then please show us the way."
Kyra rose from her seat.
Serapagnia yawned and stood as well.
"This should be amusing. Let's see just how impressive these human toys really are."
Thus, under Bertolt's guidance, we left the reception chamber.
And behind his back I quietly cast a telepathic spell so he would never notice.
I'll secure the evidence. Keep Bertolt occupied until then.
Okaaay~
Kyra winked and launched into meaningless small talk with Bertolt.
Ding—!
The elevator doors to the basement opened, and we slowly descended into the depths of the Magic Tower.