Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: The Road to the North (1)
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One sweltering summer day.
"Everyone, you've all worked hard."
There had been a few mishaps that no one could laugh about...
but the students had reached the end of the semester. Some left Aphria Academy with excited steps, while others returned to their dorms to pack their things.
"Rak's heading back home this time?"
"Looks like it. He probably needs to show some results to the warriors, so he'll go during the break."
Rak was one of them.
Of course, Rak himself wasn't packing. The maids from the central academy building and the butlers who had just arrived from the north were tidying his room. Rak simply sat in the first-floor lobby, chatting idly with his classmates from the department.
Meanwhile, the butlers kept shuttling between the lobby and the stairs. Watching them, the students murmured absentmindedly.
"It's weird to think about it again, but Rak really is a noble..."
"Hm?"
"Yeah, it just feels kinda strange."
Seeing Rak being attended to by the butlers somehow felt distant. It created a sense of separation. The students who had grown close to him over the semester felt a fresh wave of surprise.
'Well, he is the Northern Duke's son, the young master...'
Rak, the young master.
The words felt forced together, like they didn't quite fit. The students tilted their heads with odd expressions.
'...He does look the part.'
His barbaric mindset and warrior's physique made it hard to connect, but if you just looked at his appearance, Rak was definitely handsome. If he kept his mouth shut, he could pass for a sturdy young noble from a fine family.
"Rak, can you not say anything for a sec?"
"...?"
"Make a serious face, just once."
Rak did as asked.
"And if you sweep your hair back like this..."
"Oh..."
The students were quietly impressed.
The muscle-headed barbarian was gone, replaced by a sharp-featured handsome man. Feeling that strange distance, the students unconsciously stepped back a bit. Rak tilted his head at their reaction and spoke up.
"What's this all about? My jaw hurts. My eyes feel tight too."
"Ah, there you are, Rak."
"What the hell does that mean...?"
As they bantered like that, one of the butlers who had been sorting Rak's room spoke up.
"Young Master Rak, the packing is mostly done. Should I send this letter to the White Mage Tower Lord?"
"Ah, yes, that would be appreciated."
Rak nodded and stood from his seat.
"Then, see you next semester."
"Yeah, safe travels, Rak."
With his classmates seeing him off, Rak left the dorm.
Swallowing the blazing sunlight and hot air, he naturally longed for the cool earth of his homeland.
The distant northern lands.
It was time to return to the home where he was born and raised.
2.
The snowy north, battered by blizzards.
Amid towering snow-capped mountains stood a massive tower. To the untrained eye, the pristine white structure blended seamlessly with the peaks, and the people of the north called it the Mage Tower.
A tower as white as fresh snow.
Unlike the other Mage Towers clustered near the capital, this one stood far to the north, in the domain of the Grace family, sharing their history from the very beginning.
One of the five colored Mage Towers.
The cradle of pure elements, the White Mage Tower.
Standing at the topmost floor and gazing down revealed the northern landscape in a single vista. Vast snowfields stretched out, jagged canyons and icy peaks piercing the sky—a sight that stirred the heart just to behold.
-What a stunning view.
-It's like a painting.
Visitors to the tower always marveled at the scenery, calling it breathtaking. Just looking at it seemed to clear the mind.
"Hm."
There was someone who saw this view every single day.
The woman residing at the White Mage Tower's highest point hummed a tune and smiled. It was far from the kind, dignified smile she showed her subordinate mages.
The mistress of the White Mage Tower.
Celly Dvela.
She flashed a mischievous, childlike grin and stretched out her arm. Then, she gently traced a circuit etched into the wall with her index finger.
Kiiing.
She had activated the communication circuit.
The connection led to the usual recipient.
-...What is it this time?
Soon, a voice echoed through the office. On the projected screen appeared the face of a mage brimming with exhaustion.
Celly smiled at the sight.
"You tell me, what could it be? Black."
The Black Mage Tower Lord, Yetual.
Celly continued speaking to the mage on the screen.
"The reason I contact you is always the same, isn't it? You really don't know?"
Her tone was teasing, almost mocking.
Yetual frowned. He rubbed his eyes wearily and replied.
-If you're just gonna brag about something trivial again, I'm hanging up now. I'm swamped as it is, you old...
It was the usual Black demeanor. Finding it amusing, Celly let out a laugh.
'That clueless old geezer.'
Celly rested her chin on her hand and stared at the screen.
She had planned to drag it out a bit to make him sweat, but the Black Lord looked ready to cut the connection any second. Worried he might actually do it, Celly hurriedly continued.
"...It's not something trivial."
-Get to the point. Quickly.
"What else? Rak made the first move. Way ahead of your disciple."
Yetual's eyes narrowed.
His gaze asked what she meant. Celly shrugged and answered.
"While your disciple was sitting on her hands, our Rak sent an invitation to that professor."
-That professor... You mean Professor Lania?
"What other professor would catch my interest? Obviously Professor Lania."
Lania van Trias.
A girl with extraordinary talent.
For now, she was under that annoyingly perceptive gray-haired old man, making it hard to poach her, but she was someone Celly had to bring over eventually.
'And now, the scales are tipping toward the White Mage Tower.'
Celly had been quietly competing with Black over that girl since the start of the semester. From her perspective, Professor Lania expressing interest in visiting the north felt like a clear victory.
"Heh."
Her shoulders naturally squared with pride.
Celly boasted on.
"While you were slacking off, I already laid the groundwork through Rak."
Of course, it was a lie.
Rak had done it on his own.
'Does it matter?'
No matter how it started, the situation was now in her favor. Declaring intent to visit the north didn't mean a day or two—it implied a real stay.
'At least ten days.'
And ten days was more than enough time to win over a young mage.
'If I push aggressively for recruitment now... maybe even seal the deal before the break ends?'
Offer good terms, sweet-talk her, bake her in flattery—whatever it took to bring her to the White Mage Tower. Her meticulously crafted plan was nearly complete. All that remained was adjusting details based on the girl's response.
"Hm."
Celly smiled confidently.
"Getting the picture now?"
She crossed her legs, piling on the provocation.
"This is the difference between you and me, right? The White Mage Tower is superior to the Black one."
However.
-......
There was no response.
Black remained silent.
"What? Why aren't you saying anything?"
Celly frowned.
'Something's off.'
Normally, this kind of taunt would draw an irritated outburst from Black—something about her wasting her years.
-......Hm.
But now?
Black looked at her with utter pity. Sympathy even seeped from his eyes, like he was gazing at some clueless newbie.
It wasn't the reaction Celly had expected. Not at all.
'Has this old fart lost his mind?'
Celly scowled and snapped.
"Why are your eyes so wide? Got a problem? Spit it out if you do, you snake of an old man!"
-No, it's just... nothing much to say...
Black clicked his tongue pityingly.
-Keep at it, White.
"...What?"
-Just cheering you on. I've got work to do, so I'll be going. Hope for good news.
Click.
The connection cut off.
"...?"
Celly blinked blankly.
She couldn't follow what had just happened.
"Has that old man really gone mad...?"
Her hollow question lingered in the air.
Far from the scales tipping her way, they had shattered entirely—a fact beyond Celly's grasp.
3.
"The north is freezing cold. You do know that, Raniel."
"Pardon? Ah, yes. Of course."
"So dress warmly. You're not planning to head north in something that thin, are you? You're not that thoughtless..."
"Pardon? I was just gonna go like this."
"...You're driving me insane."
My master pressed his forehead.
I tilted my head.
"But... back when I was charging through battlefields, I rolled around snow-capped mountains bare-chested. So now..."
"Battlefields are extreme situations, Raniel. And this time, you're a guest invited by the Northern Duke."
"Right?"
"So dress appropriately. At minimum, avoid anything that makes people shiver just looking at you."
...Is that so?
I tilted my head but gathered up the clothes my master gave me and put them on: a muffler, fur gloves, fur boots—things rare even on battlefields.
"Oh, luxury goods..."
"A guy who could buy five Mage Towers outright, and he's fussing over this..."
Tsk tsk. My master clicked his tongue and stuffed the muffler into the expansion-enchanted pocket of my robe. Then he patted my back.
"Take care out there."
"Yes, Master."
I left the mansion with light steps.
A short walk later, a carriage waiting in front of the mansion came into view. It bore the emblem of the north.
"Allow me to escort you."
A dignified elderly man bowed deeply. I inwardly marveled at the scale of the carriage sent by the Grace family.
'Rak really is from a prestigious house.'
...Come to think of it, of course he was.
Rak was the only son of the Northern Duke, Elyahel van Grace. As the sole heir, this level of treatment was only natural.
'If anything, it's weirder that Rak wandered around Aphria without a single guard...'
But for some reason.
In my mind, Rak and "noble" or "prestigious family" just didn't mesh. Like water and oil. I boarded the carriage with an odd expression.
'Well, Rak is Rak.'
Just as I settled in with a clack.
"Ah, you've arrived."
Someone already inside greeted me.
It was a man with his hair neatly swept back from his forehead. Dressed in a rolled-up shirtsleeves, he looked at me and gave a slight bow.
"Uh..."
I blinked and asked.
"...Who are you?"
"Pardon? It's me, Rak. Professor Lania."
"What?"
"Rak. Rak from Combat Magic."
The man blinked, then waved to the butler. The butler sighed and placed a hand axe on the man's palm. The man gripped it awkwardly.
"Ah, Rak. Got it."
Only then did I nod.
"Why are you dressed in something so unfitting?"
"Tell me about it. It's uncomfortable for me too."
Rak said, folding his arms.
His bulging muscles threatened to rip the shirt.
"But since we were escorting the professor, Sevast insisted on this."
"It's basic etiquette, young master."
"Then why'd you take my axe?"
"Wearing an axe so openly in front of a guest is rude, isn't it? And professor or not, this lady is still from a noble house..."
...Rude?
'Over that?'
I tilted my head.
"Rak."
"Yes, Professor."
"Didn't you throw axes at me and stuff?"
The butler's face turned pale.
He stared at Rak with wide eyes. Rak pondered for a moment, stroking his chin, then spoke.
"Ah, you mean that practical training?"
"Yeah, that."
I nodded.
The butler's face went from pale to ashen white.