Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Underworld Bigshot
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Pure and passionate students were the canvas upon which the future was painted.
That was the Gray Tower Lord’s memory of the Gray Tower from long ago.
"..."
But.
Today, the Gray Tower that filled the Gray Tower Lord’s eyes was entirely different.
The pure and passionate students were gone.
The Gray Tower had become a den for politicians and traitors.
The Gray Tower Lord gazed at her doll with eyes grown ice-cold.
"Is this the best you could do?"
The doll shuddered as it replied.
"Yes. This was my best. I’m sorry for failing to meet your expectations, Master."
"I see. You’ve worked hard all this time."
That was the full extent of her commendation for the doll’s long years of service.
The Gray Tower Lord reached out toward the doll.
"..."
The light faded from the doll’s eyes.
The doll, which had managed the Gray Tower in its master’s absence for so long, reverted to mere inorganic matter.
Next, the Gray Tower Lord took in the sight of the tower with eyes clouded by melancholy.
That moment did not last long.
The Gray Tower Lord turned her back on the tower without a shred of attachment.
The Gray Tower had lost its pride and its master.
All that remained there now were politicians and traitors.
The Gray Tower Lord "Wandering Star" is a legendary being.
To seek testimony of sightings of this existence, one must scour for individuals with at least five years of tower tenure.
That’s right.
This tower’s master hadn’t set foot in the tower even once in a full five years.
Even five years ago, during her brief visit, she concealed her identity and only made contact with select associates.
A tower lord is a symbol before they are the tower’s owner.
Their personal achievements sometimes surpass those of the entire tower.
The Gray Tower’s history is short.
Compared to other towers rooted in great noble houses that share a legacy with magic itself, the word "gray" seemed all the more faded.
Yet they are treated as a proper mage tower.
Because it is the base of the Wandering Star. The place where her feats reside.
The Gray Tower’s mages speak of her with reverence.
And so some marvel, accepting the existence of a tower lord possessed by wanderlust.
...And ask.
Surprisingly, the Gray Tower experienced no issues whatsoever in this regard.
The lord’s absence was immediately filled by a certain individual.
The Gray Tower Lord was not an irresponsible person.
Before forsaking the tower, she had responsibly(?) scouted someone to shoulder her duties in her stead.
Wherever the tower lord’s seal was required, she was always there.
With dark circles so deep they had become part of her flesh, and a cynical smile steeped in exhaustion and resignation.
Dmia.
She carelessly tied up her gray hair, brittle and ashen like dust caked with water, while entertaining extravagant fantasies.
Today, I absolutely have to bathe before passing out from exhaustion.
But.
Upon hearing that name mentioned right before her eyes, she surrendered in an instant.
'Rishir...'
To Dmia, it was a name akin to a nightmare.
The tower’s mages all praised his talent in unison.
They welcomed his affiliation with the tower with open arms.
Dmia could not.
The directive implanted in her by the tower lord was the "preservation and revival of the tower."
What it needed most was securing finances, not talent.
Dmia’s large-scale financial procurement plan, conducted covertly over the past year.
It all fell apart due to Rishir’s appointment as honorary mage.
There is a merchant house called the Merichi family.
Having amassed vast wealth through commerce in the south and risen as new power players, they were plagued by a lack of legitimacy and honor.
They’d saved up a fortune.
Now they wanted to rub elbows with high society and gild their name, but those lofty nobles refused to acknowledge them, dismissing them as upstarts.
Nobles who fawned "As expected of the Dolrea" while pocketing the money, only to sneer "Dolrea, huh" the moment they turned away—their abrupt shifts in attitude left even cunning merchants seething.
The Merichi sought a solution and turned their eyes to the Gray Tower.
By installing the family’s eldest son as an honorary mage of the Gray Tower, they aimed to secure noble roots.
To that end, the Merichi had waged an aggressive sponsorship campaign on the Gray Tower for the past year and were on the verge of cementing their agreements—foreshadowing an impending "the boss has lost it."
Dmia had been tossing and turning at night in excitement over this deal.
Solving it would grant the tower ample financial breathing room, perhaps even allowing her to partake in the mythical concept of "vacation."
'Finally, can I visit a café too... eat something delicious... buy new clothes... check out cosmetics... sleep the whole day in bed heh heh heh...'
Dmia couldn’t believe it.
Can I really indulge in such luxury?
At that very moment, a vagabond mage named Rishir appeared and ascended to idol status in the tower.
The Master Council unanimously recommended Rishir for honorary mage.
Dmia refused.
The Master Council unanimously recommended Rishir for honorary mage.
Dmia refused.
The Master Council unanimously recommended Rishir for honorary mage.
The Master Council unanimously recommended Rishir for honorary mage.
The Master Council unanimously recommended Rishir for honorary—
Dmia fainted.
And so the Gray Tower’s honorary mage position went not to the Merichi heir, but to the vagabond mage Rishir.
For reference, honorary mage appointments were limited to once every two years by convention.
The Merichi family’s stance was clear.
The Merichi expressed their regret in a manner as bold as their prior shows of goodwill.
They ceased sponsorship without hesitation and mobilized all their influence to convey their displeasure to the tower.
Merchant houses that had maintained good relations with the tower for years suddenly turned their backs.
Dmia fainted.
Of course, some rigid mage might comment on the matter thus.
Not an excuse, but most mage towers had long bolstered their external political influence this way.
Rather, the Gray Tower’s adherence to honor until now was the exception.
The very reason the Merichi coveted validation specifically from the Gray Tower.
In that sense, a boon, perhaps?
This incident would elevate the Gray Tower’s honor even further.
Oh.
There was another auspicious development, no less.
With Rishir’s aid, the tower successfully excised a malignant tumor named Gerhen.
This brought them one step closer to the value of integrity.
The only minor issue was that Gerhen’s family, the Dreider, had been one of the tower’s prime sponsors.
Thus, in pursuit of integrity(?), the tower enthusiastically embraced a financial crisis.
What an ironic twist.
The closer they drew to honor, the poorer they became; the farther they strayed, the richer.
In the dilemma of [Honorable Beggar vs. Dishonorable Tycoon], Dmia unwillingly chose the former and was forced to devise countermeasures.
Regrettably, nothing came to mind.
These were the circumstances that led Dmia, the tower’s de facto chief officer, to harbor resentment toward Rishir.
"Rishir. Isn’t he our tower’s honorary mage? To assign him such a trifling task as mediating between merchants."
In the midst of this, Master Mortier—one of the tower’s foremost Rishir enthusiasts—burst into the office to air his grievances.
"Master Mortier. Do you know how many resources were consumed for this honorary mage selection and ceremony?"
As the tower lord’s proxy, Dmia infused authority into her fatigue-laden tone.
"That’s...!"
Such craven, practical talk!
Master Mortier averted his eyes.
"One question, Master Mortier. What did our Gray Tower gain from this honorary mage appointment?"
"A talent possessing potential and value beyond compare."
"Exactly. A talent acquired at great cost. Consider this a test to verify that value."
"But you know full well! About that Red Box’s Kal!"
"Former mercenary. A habitual felon until he laundered his identity. Given his temperament, there’s a high chance Rishir won’t be accorded respect. A young figure in an honorary role invites all sorts of interpretations."
"If you know that, then why...!"
Dmia regarded Mortier with meaningful intent.
"I, like all of you, place great expectations on him."
"..."
Her expression, however, was utterly parched—contrary to her words.
In truth, Dmia held no particular hopes for Rishir.
The current north back-alley crime syndicate "Leather Chain" had slipped even the city nobles’ control.
As the nobles’ primary funders, they had severed all external communications and contacts, embarking on independent action.
Kal was undoubtedly adhering strictly to orders from above.
In such circumstances, would they meekly return goods at one merchant’s demand?
Regrettable for the merchants, but under the present situation, the odds of recovering their northern assets or rights were exceedingly low.
Polde would grasp it immediately upon sensing the atmosphere on-site.
Thus, Dmia reckoned.
This dispatch of Rishir.
As long as no complaints arose from Polde, that would suffice.
To a merchant, information is little different from life itself.
The worst outcome from a lack of information is merely losing some coin—but a merchant’s lifeline is tethered to their pouch.
Conversely, financial gain can revive even a dying merchant.
The anecdote of a caravan head, on his deathbed from chronic illness and old age, roaring "Not yet!" upon hearing the words "good news" from outside the door and burning his final spark—is quite famous.
Thus, Polde made every effort to master Bondalles’ trends, political situation, and most information besides.
It was a habit that greatly aided his rise from the dregs to mid-tier caravan lord.
Polde knew that the crime syndicates dominating Bondalles’ back alleys were not mere gatherings of criminals, but coalitions of adventurers and mercenaries who had tasted black money.
He knew that recent movements by one such syndicate, the "Leather Chain," were far from ordinary.
Polde was the first merchant overall to signal a full withdrawal from all northern Bondalles ventures.
In this way, Polde’s information network was unrivaled among Bondalles’ merchants.
Polde was aware of this fact himself—and thus was plunged into utter turmoil now.
"I’m ashamed for not recognizing you, Rishir-nim! I’ll resolve the issue at once!"
"Hoho, my thanks. But you know me?"
"How could I not! Of course I do!"
"Hoho. Why ‘of course’?"
Rishir.
To think I knew nothing of such a heavyweight.
The man bowing his head to Rishir was named Kal.
As manager of the Red Box—with clients spanning Bondalles’ sunlit streets and shadowed alleys—he enjoyed the Leather Chain’s trust.
What sort of figure could reduce such a Kal—from cautious deference to utter fluster?
"Here it is! Polde’s goods!"
"My, such swift handling. My thanks."
"For Rishir-nim himself to say so! It’s an honor! If ever you need my aid again, please call on me anytime!"
Who else could resolve matters so amicably against the current "Leather Chain"?
It was a tall order even for prominent city nobles, mage tower masters, or high-rank adventurers.
"Polde, is this the safe?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes! Yes it is! Thank you!"
He had reaped gains beyond expectation.
'Rishir.'
Polde etched that name—unfamiliar to anyone else in the city—into his mind faster than any other.
"What in the world is going on?"
The tower was abuzz with the sudden procession of carriages.
Dmia questioned her secretary for the details.
"Caravan lords from Bondalles have urgently requested an audience...!"
Caravan lords who usually relegated the tower to the back burner while pandering to nobles?
Suddenly?
Dmia’s eyes, ringed in dark circles, twitched.
At this hour.
A rumor was rapidly spreading among the merchants.
Of an honorary mage who could cleanly resolve issues even the city nobles couldn’t touch.