Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Someone to Carry
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Lancelot, who already knew Grandfather from before, greeted him warmly. Veronica muttered something like, "If he's the Saintess's father, does that make him the Saintess's dad?" but we wrapped up the introductions smoothly and arrived at the Magic Tower.
The gray Magic Tower looked like it was made of crudely stacked bricks, but there were no visible seams between them, giving it a somehow majestic and mystical vibe. As we stood in front of it, everyone's eyes lit up.
What kind of beings are mages?
They are people who perform miracles in the world through their own convictions and wills, forcing their intentions through. They are those who train to perceive the world more intuitively than anyone else.
So, what would the personalities be like of mages who spend their entire lives debating and researching in the Magic Tower, where such people gather?
Even if you're not born that way, just two months in the Magic Tower will automatically equip you with a stubborn streak and zero regard for others' opinions.
And that's why I'm telling you this story right now...
"Your Highness! There's a part I don't understand in your earlier advice about splitting mana..."
"I tried improving the weather magic as much as possible to minimize its negative impact on entropy—please take a look, just once!"
"I'm developing a new magic tool, but there's a problem with significant mana loss when drawing from the magic stone—please check it, Your Highness!"
"I read 'Is the Essence of Mana Matter or Wave?' but there's a part I don't get..."
Mages came rushing out barefoot from all directions, clutching notes and magic tools—no dignity in sight.
They're masters at reading and sensing mana, but there aren't many humans in the world who can see it directly.
They probably see me as some kind of high-performance mana viewer.
It was dizzying, like corrupt politicians being mobbed by reporters shoving cameras in their faces.
I respect their passion for knowledge, but I'm busy right now, you guys...
"Heh heh, look at all these prospective followers already. As expected of an Apostle."
"Right? They're literally devotees—spot on! Puahaha!"
I lightly ignored Veronica and Lancelot's remarks and gathered the crowd to sort things out.
"Those who need me to look at magic tools or magic circles directly, over to the left! Those whose opinions can be handled in writing, to the right!"
The mages moved in perfect unison at my words.
As expected of mages who create order out of chaos.
"Those on the left, make a list and send it up to the Tower Master's office. Those on the right, excluding anyone who's already contacted the palace, write your questions and send them to the office the same way."
Grandfather beamed with joy watching the mages swarm back into the tower.
"Thanks to you, Your Highness, the Magic Tower is buzzing with life. Come on in! Heh heh heh!"
As we entered the Magic Tower, two intricately crafted spiral staircases coiled up the walls like snakes. Looking up, the ceiling sparkled like it was embroidered with stars, even in broad daylight.
People telekinetically shuffling documents while bowing, sticking hands into fireballs deep in thought, sculpting with telekinetically controlled hammers with eyes closed, jotting notes in front of plants—rooms full of incomprehensible eccentrics, with bursts of light occasionally flashing from within.
Grandfather smiled, finding the kids' wide-eyed wandering—like Muggles at Hogwarts for the first time—adorable.
We headed to Grandfather's office.
A modest but warm wooden bookshelf lined the entire wall, crammed with countless books. In the center stood another bookshelf, and to its right, an experiment table filled with vials of colorful potions.
We sat on the green sofa as guided.
I asked Grandfather,
"Grandfather, I don't see any combat mages around. Where are they?"
"The combat mages dispatched a search team with the Vice Tower Master as soon as they got the telegram."
He'd believed the sudden info and sent out a search right away.
Expressing thanks, I asked more.
"It was true, then. We found traces of a black mage in a slash-and-burn village outside the territory."
"Any connection to the dungeon?"
"The report didn't mention any. The tower's monitoring the dungeon—no suspicious entries."
Jenia, who'd been listening, joined in.
"Marquis of Florence, the method can be proven."
"Miss? Do you know something?"
"Yes, with this approach..."
Jenia whispered so no one else would hear.
Grandfather's expression turned grave as he replied,
"I'll have the necessary papers drawn up right away. Come in and wait."
With the papers in hand, we headed to the Adventurers' Guild.
We arrived at one of fantasy's landmark staples, invariably found wherever there's a dungeon, and pushed open the door to go inside.
Rough-looking folks like fantasy NPCs were drinking in one corner, and the walls were plastered with papers listing missions.
Academy students dropping by for pocket money or experience were scattered about here and there.
"Oh, the Adventurers' Guild."
My quiet admiration prompted comments from everyone.
"This is the tavern of sweat-scented men!"
Lancelot, thrilled from hero tales, excitedly looked around.
"Whoa~ It's exactly like in the game!"
Jenia whispered in quiet awe.
And Veronica just stood there beaming innocently—everyone reacting in their own way.
As we headed to the lobby, the obligatory four adventurers stepped up, right on cue.
But their words were unexpected.
"Young noble sirs, we get the adventurous spirit, but you'd best not take missions for a while. The dungeon's got a bad vibe lately."
Rough tone, but with an oddly sweet undertone—Lancelot was thrown, mumbling,
"No provocation...? This is... what..."
The adventurers shot Lancelot a look like he was crazy.
I asked them,
"Have adventurers gone missing inside the dungeon?"
Their eyes widened at my words.
"Looks like you know something."
"We're here to investigate that. Is the Guild Master in?"
"Upstairs. The receptionist will guide you."
With that level of savvy, they must be seasoned vets—sharp as hell.
Ignoring Lancelot reeling from the second shock, I pulled out the papers and approached the receptionist.
"Hello, how may I assist you?"
"I need to speak with the Guild Master."
I handed over the papers, stamped with the marquisate's seal. She stood and guided us.
"This way to the second floor."
On the second floor, we waited as she entered a room with the papers. Soon, a voice called us in.
A muscular middle-aged man stood there to greet us.
"Welcome, First Prince. I'm Aaron, Guild Master of the Florence Marquisate Adventurers' Guild."
A drop of cold sweat trickled from Aaron's temple as he bowed.
"Good to meet you, Aaron. Rise—no need for formalities. We're here officially, and it's urgent, so I'd appreciate quick handling of our requests."
"Yes, sir."
"We need rosters of missing and deceased in the dungeon over the past few years, plus their classes. It's heretics. The church has been notified, so prep what I asked pronto."
"May I ask the exact timeframe?"
"Hm... To speed things up, send them in six-month batches as ready. Especially mark any dispatched from the Magic Tower."
"Understood."
As Aaron left, everyone but the tea-bringing receptionist buzzed excitedly.
Heretic ties probably made it urgent for him too.
"Alright, everyone sit and wait."
We sat, sipping the receptionist's tea, and soon the info started arriving.
"Here's the six-month roster—Magic Tower folks all marked as requested."
"Keep 'em coming."
"Yes."
With his curt reply, the Guild Master left, and we got to work.
"We're looking for patterns. Parties where only the mage died, parties where only the mage survived—Magic Tower affiliates in either case. As data piles up, common names will emerge. We hand their IDs to the tower and head into the dungeon."
"Yes!"
"What? Overlapping guys? Say it again, I forgot."
"Tch, survivors with duplicate names—spot the suspicious ones on your gut."
"Okay!"
Beast mode suits him. We dove into the documents.
By the time three years' worth arrived, we ordered guild staff to pull two-year data matching the criteria.
The results...
"Checking deaths by month, fatalities spiked sharply compared to three years ago."
"Apostle! Here! This one's overlapping a lot!"
"This bastard! Found... different name, huh..."
We uncovered two Magic Tower members and four adventurers.
I told the Guild Master,
"Good work. We'll interrogate the tower folks. Hold the adventurers—we'll inspect them at the tower. Kill any who flee. Innocents won't mind the probe."
"Yes, sir."
We compiled the report and headed back to the Magic Tower.
On the way, Jenia said,
"Your Highness, there are probably heretics in the other two slash-and-burn villages too."
"Jenia, if we hit the outskirts first, escape risk for insiders?"
"If comms cut off and they get suspicious... we have one to two days to wrap it all up."
I grinned.
"Then send combat mages to one, and we'll farm some EXP on the rest."
Jenia's eyes flickered at the thought of killing directly, but she soon steeled herself, smiling back at me.
"Take good care of me, bus driver."
"Driver? I'm the Apostle, boo hoo..."
Veronica couldn't even retort.
She's doing fine, though...