Nordenburk's Students
Three hundred years ago, the Empire showed considerable interest in locating the Fallen Apple Wand. It was because of what the remaining black mages said during the purges after the Maou War.
"That one... will return someday..."
Those were the words of the black mages who had once driven the Empire to the brink of destruction. The emperor of that era never took such claims lightly. Knowing full well how horrific the war had been, the Empire devoted itself to purging black mages and searching for the wand across two generations who had lived through the conflict.
But by the third generation, those efforts began to wane. The third emperor was from a generation that hadn't experienced the Maou War firsthand. With visible black mage activity dwindling, budgets for their detection were gradually cut.
And now, three hundred years later, the Empire no longer cared about purging black mages.
"Of all times..."
I muttered softly, folding the newspaper closed. A few questions had arisen.
"Sylvia, has there been any sign of the Maou or anything like that?"
"Not at the moment. At least, within the information I can access, there's no concrete evidence pointing to the Maou's resurrection."
"Hmm..."
Someone like Sylvia had access to intelligence across the continent. If the Maou had truly returned, she would've heard from the Empire, the Eastern Union Kingdom, or the Holy Kingdom—regardless of who it was. She was the sole survivor of the Maou War three hundred years ago, the only one capable of sorting out this chaotic situation.
"Sigh... so that's why the Empire's upper echelons are skeptical about the Maou's revival."
"Why's that?"
"There's no clear proof it's the Maou's doing."
Digging deeper, I learned the Empire's leadership couldn't tell if it was truly the Maou reborn or just some black mage who'd lucked into the Fallen Apple Wand and was impersonating him.
Well... it made sense if you thought about it a little.
Which nation would suffer the most if the Maou returned? Obviously, the Empire. Just like three hundred years ago, the front lines meant the Empire would take the heaviest losses. And this time, there was the wildcard of the Eastern Union Kingdom. Even if they won the war, a backstab from the Union at the end would leave the Empire holding the bag.
So, officially acknowledging the Maou's return and halting the fight with the Union was tough. The fear of getting stabbed in the back if they paused to unite against the black mages was too real.
The black mages knew that, which was why they were poking at the Empire so ambiguously.
What, you say it couldn't happen? That even the Eastern Union Kingdom wouldn't betray humanity in the face of a disaster like the Maou?
"Tch... reality always surpasses imagination."
There's a saying on Earth: if something lacks plausibility, blame the writer's historical research. I love that line. After all, my previous life on Earth had a prime example. A nation proposed uniting against the great evil of Imperial Japan, only to get backstabbed and exiled to an island.
History repeats itself. No law saying it couldn't happen here.
"Anyway... I think I'll be pretty busy for a while, sis."
"Because of this?"
"Yeah."
Sylvia pulled a letter from her bosom. It was an elegant missive stamped with the imperial household's direct seal.
Imperial Seal Affixed
Formal Recommendation from His Imperial Majesty
"It's not exactly compulsory, but honestly, even I'm a bit uneasy. If the Maou really comes back... I'm not sure if just you and I could hold out."
I understood Sylvia's anxiety. We were among the few still alive who'd witnessed the horrors of the Maou War with our own eyes. The fate of civilians exposed to the power from beyond our world had been miserable beyond words. No human torture could match that despair.
"So, I'll be patrolling the seals on the Maou's kin scattered across the lands and helping track down traces of black mages. I've got the academy to manage, so I won't be gone long... but I'll probably be away at least three times a week."
"You sure you'll be okay? Sounds exhausting."
"...I'll manage. You know elves don't tire easily, sis."
I knew that. Hell, I'd pull all-nighters for a week straight when wand-crafting inspiration struck. But... that was that, and this was this. I couldn't help worrying about my little-sister-like protege pushing herself.
"I could help if you need it. Sure, I'm a has-been now, but I can still handle a 7th Circle mage without breaking a sweat."
"And then you'd pass out for nearly a full day. Don't you remember that, sis?"
"Urk... that was unavoidable backlash from the buffs. Once I get used to it, it'll be fine."
"Sure, sure. If you say so."
Unfortunately, my excuses fell flat. Grr, guess three hundred years holed up as a shut-in did this. No helping it. My magic talent was basically nil anyway.
To suppress a 7th Circle black mage easily with this body required a hefty price.
"You stay at the academy, sis. Raising the kids properly is just as important as investigating the Maou."
"But..."
"You know it too. Even if the Maou revives, we can't drag out the Empire's aged emperor to fight."
She wasn't wrong. The leaders of every faction were simply too old now. Three hundred years ago, during the Maou War, the wand wielders averaged forty. But Arius XIV, current wielder of the Wall Jujube Wand and emperor of the Empire, was nearing seventy.
The first and second princes' power struggle stemmed from the emperor's short remaining lifespan. Putting that emperor on the front lines against the Maou wouldn't even be a real fight.
The other factions were the same. Excluding Nordenburk in the north, Sylvia was the only one who could grab a wand and fight right now.
"So, focus on training and protecting the students at the academy. That's way more important than hunting Maou traces."
"...Got it. But call me if you need backup, okay?"
"Yeah. If it's beyond my limits, I'll ask for your help."
Only then did I feel a bit relieved. I knew I was overprotective—obsessive, even. But it couldn't be helped. Elves, doomed to outlive short-lived races we loved, clung fiercely to those who endured. It was our fate.
A thousand years since my birth. Of everyone I'd known, only two remained: Sylvia... and my mother in this life. People I couldn't bear to lose.
"Take care out there."
"I will."
As Sylvia rose, donning her cloak, she paused as if remembering something.
"Oh, right. I won't be able to help you much from now on. You okay with that?"
"With what?"
"The other students' eyes on you. You said you'd prove you're a good professor by using 'Olivia,' right? They'll judge you harshly... you sure you're fine?"
"Doesn't bother me. I've already gotten enough of it."
I knew I couldn't be called a great mage after contributing to the Maou War's outbreak. But I was confident in teaching young students.
Not that it mattered much now, but I'd been prepping to be a teacher in my past life anyway.
My academy goal hadn't changed much from day one: prove it through action. Just on a tighter deadline now.
"I'll win them all over by the end of the semester."
The wand disputes among the four great powers' heirs? With the Maou's possible revival, I had no intention of dragging that out for years.
"I've laid some groundwork for it too."
I figured I'd built some rapport with Nordenburk. Not sure exactly how much goodwill I'd earned... but at least I'd left a positive impression on those who hadn't intervened directly before.
Northern warriors' traits hadn't changed: they followed the strong. They'd cross lines for strength. And they welcomed fellow warriors.
That was why I'd deliberately used a northern battle-axe in front of a 7th Circle mage.
Here's hoping it helped.
I muttered to myself, standing up.
"Well, time for my lecture."
What's the most effective way for a student to attack a professor at the academy?
Inflicting physical harm? Harassing by messing up the podium and throwing trash? Spreading nasty rumors with lies?
Unfortunately, none of those. This was a world with magic.
Messing with a professor's belongings? Tracking the culprit was easy. Sure, evidence-erasing spells existed, but a professor's tracing magic would outmatch a student's every time.
Physical harm? Same issue—who's got better magic, professor or student? Obvious.
Lies worked well but backfired hard if caught. Once burned, twice shy.
Thus, the students' ultimate weapon: skipping class. Nothing crushes a professor's will like an empty classroom.
Their last desperate act of defiance.
"So I figured turnout would be low..."
I muttered, scanning the room.
The classroom I'd expected to be deserted was packed with students from Nordenburk.
...Looks like that banquet brawl had a bigger impact than I thought.