The Last Conscience of the Red Magic Tower
Her parents had been mages, or so she was told.
She barely remembered them.
Both had died during a childhood so early she could no longer recall it.
In cases like hers, a lucky orphan with wealthy relatives might find herself adopted.
And if not?
In the Empire, an orphan either starved to death in the gutter—
Or, if fortune smiled a little, wound up in an orphanage.
Veronica had no relatives willing to take her in.
Yet her life was never going to be wretched.
Both of her parents had been mages—members of the Red Magic Tower, no less.
Mages were infamous for their arrogance and for social skills so catastrophic they bordered on the inhuman. Her parents, however, had been exceptions: unusually kind. Combined with genuine talent, that kindness had earned them no small measure of respect inside the tower.
So Veronica grew up spoiled by the mages of the Red Magic Tower, living without want within its walls. Food, clothing, and shelter were never lacking. And thanks to one mage who doted on her with particular warmth, she never suffered the ache of missing parents.
Of course, that did not make a magic tower a healthy place for a child to grow. If anything, the opposite was true.
As Veronica grew a little older, she naturally developed an interest in magic. Surrounded by nothing but mages, how could she not?
“Sally, magic! Huh? Sally~”
The mage who cherished her most—Sally—would demonstrate magic once again for the whining little girl.
“Wow!”
Young Veronica watched with sparkling eyes. Sally gazed down at her with quiet fondness.
Deep down, Sally hoped Veronica possessed talent for magic. She did not believe the Red Magic Tower would raise the girl forever. Her parents had been capable mages in their own right; the possibility was there. If Veronica became a mage herself, she could remain in the tower for as long as she wished. Someday, Sally decided, she would teach the child magic.
But not yet. What magic could a girl so young possibly learn?
Instead, she showed Veronica something different. Not the flashy, eye-pleasing spectacles she usually performed for her amusement. The most basic spell of all—the very foundation of the Red Magic Tower.
It required no chant, yet Sally murmured the word anyway.
“Fire.”
A brilliant flame bloomed at the tip of her finger. It was beautiful. Simple magic, and precisely because of that simplicity, true perfection was almost impossible to reach.
Had Veronica recognized the real worth of the flame Sally had created? Or did she simply love any magic at all? Compared to the firework displays Sally usually put on, it was nothing. Yet Veronica stared at that tiny flame with more concentration than she had ever shown before.
At last she turned her head and looked up at Sally’s face.
“Sally!”
“Hm?”
“I think I can do this!”
She said it with pure, unselfconscious innocence. Sally found her so adorable she wanted to nibble those cheeks right then and there.
Alright. I’ve decided.
Veronica would almost certainly get angry. Even so, Sally’s resolve crumbled before that cuteness; she was just about to pinch those cheeks when the sight unfolding in front of her nearly made her faint from shock.
“How’s this, Sally?”
Veronica called out as if seeking praise. A small yet radiant flame was already blooming atop her own fingertip.
“Tower Master! Tower Master!”
Sally scooped Veronica up on the spot and bolted for the Tower Master’s research lab.
“Sally! What’s going on!”
Veronica protested, dangling by the scruff of her neck, but Sally was in too much of a hurry to answer.
Bang!
“Tower Master!”
The Master of the Red Magic Tower, Scarlet Mars, glared at the woman who had dared barge into her laboratory without so much as a knock. One of the things mages hated most was people poking around their labs uninvited. Another was being interrupted mid-research. Sally knew both facts perfectly well—yet she was far past caring about either.
Scarlet, who had been gathering mana in her hand, checked herself the moment she saw Veronica in Sally’s arms. There was little connection between the Tower Master and the girl, but even she would not do that in front of a child.
Instead she asked, voice cold as ice.
“Sally. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The weight of that presence sobered Sally enough to apologize first.
“I’m sorry, Tower Master! But I thought you absolutely had to see this…”
She was trembling with excitement. Anyone else might have started railing about barging into a superior’s private room. Scarlet, however, was a mage. What interested her far more was whatever had driven Sally into such a frenzy.
Sally turned to the girl.
“Veronica, can you show that again?”
Veronica was thoroughly confused by the sudden chaos. Still, at Sally’s request she produced the flame once more—finding it easier the second time.
Scarlet’s eyes went wide.
“…This is astonishing. Sally, when did you start teaching her magic?”
To think a child so young could learn magic at all. The admiration was uncharacteristic of Scarlet, yet Sally only shook her head.
“I never taught her. I simply demonstrated magic in front of her… and Veronica copied it…”
Her voice shrank. Even as she spoke the words, she understood how impossible they sounded.
Scarlet confirmed every detail with the most serious expression she had ever worn. Sally insisted it was all true.
“Veronica. Is what Sally said true?”
“Yes! Why?”
That day, the youngest mage in the history of the Red Magic Tower was born—and Veronica became Scarlet’s disciple.
Several years passed after that.
Veronica’s talent for magic was the real thing. Some people went around declaring she would become the second Scarlet Mars. Others found such talk galling. It did not matter. Scarlet herself had named Veronica her successor.
Scarlet was one of the greatest mages in the Empire—no, on the entire continent. Under her wing, Veronica received the finest education imaginable. Geniuses were often said to make poor teachers, yet Veronica was genius enough to grasp Scarlet’s lessons, so that particular problem never arose.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
A magic tower was populated almost entirely by eccentrics. Veronica had no opportunity to learn ordinary human relationships or develop any real social sense. She did not even have friends her own age. Sally—the one relatively normal person around her—saw less and less of her once Veronica began studying magic in earnest. And Scarlet, Master of the Red Magic Tower, queen of its mages, was second to none when it came to sheer eccentricity.
On top of that, the position of Scarlet’s successor—claimed by Veronica at such a tender age—was no light burden. Scarlet had never taken a personal disciple before. Now she had both a disciple and a named heir. Whether Veronica liked it or not, the role drew relentless attention. Many envied her, insulted her, spat jealousy. Many others offered calculated kindness, hoping to forge a connection with the Master of the Red Magic Tower—or with the future one. Neither type was good for a child still so young.
For all her rough edges, Scarlet cared for Veronica. Wishing to shield her from hurt, she offered a piece of advice.
“Veronica, not a single one of those bastards badmouthing you in our tower is better than you.”
Veronica listened with solemn attention.
“Every last one of them is beneath you. Geniuses like us have no reason to give a damn what those inferior scum say. Got it?”
Nod. Nod.
Scarlet had spoken purely out of concern. She never realized how vast a place she occupied in Veronica’s heart—or how deeply words spoken to a young child could carve themselves into that child’s values.
A few more years passed, and Veronica began accompanying the tower’s mages outside. Having lived her entire life inside the tower, the wider world was completely new to her.
Mages, as a rule, were unpleasant and arrogant. The ones traveling with Veronica ignored the commoners and looked down their noses at them. Lowborn scum—that was the phrase the mages always used for commoners in Veronica’s hearing.
She thought about it. Even the mages her master called inferior treated commoners that way. Weren’t those commoners simply powerless weaklings to begin with?
Once, when the other mages stepped away and left only young Veronica behind, commoners who had no idea of her strength muttered among themselves. Arrogant snobs. Insolent lot. Rude mages. They thought they were lowering their voices; Veronica heard every word.
It was obvious what kind of view she would form of commoners after that.
Sally—the last conscience of the Red Magic Tower, the one person who might have steered Veronica back onto a better path—
“Sally! Do you really have to go?”
“Hiiing… I’m sorry, Veronica! I’ll buy you a present when I come back!”
—had been dispatched to another magic tower.
And so Veronica grew up with rather warped social skills and values.
Of course, quite a few of the Empire’s nobles held views of commoners that were not so different from hers. Looked at that way, she had not gone terribly far off the rails.
In any case, Veronica—raised in an environment that left something to be desired—finally enrolled at the Academy.