Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Resti Eleanor (2)
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Suddenly, an old memory surfaced.
The memory began from a single question.
“What are the Mage Tower elders?”
“Yes.”
I had once asked my master that question.
Recalling the trigger wasn’t hard.
‘It was right when the elders were throwing their biggest fits.’
I hated the Ashen Mage Tower elders. Especially the ones back when I’d just become the Next Mage Tower Lord.
“What makes those old fogeys think they can give me shit like that...”
So, this must have been a question from right after I’d taken the position of Next Mage Tower Lord.
‘What did my master say in response?’
Probably something like...
“...Raniel, to start with, I’m an elder too.”
“Of course I mean the other elders, not you, Master.”
“Hmm...”
I remember it being a bit different from what I’d asked.
Back then, my master had sat me down on the sofa and started telling the story.
“First off, Raniel. Let me correct one thing.”
“Yes?”
“The elders being extra prickly toward the Next Mage Tower Lord isn’t anything new. It’s been that way since the Ashen Mage Tower was built. No one except the founding lord, Armiel, has ever had the full support of all six elders.”
That’s what my master had said.
“It’s not really about your background. The elders basically don’t think the Mage Tower needs a lord at all.”
“...Why?”
“There’s a good reason for it. Raniel, do you know the defining traits of the Ashen Mage Tower?”
“Uh... that it doesn’t stick to any one school of magic?”
“Right. The Ashen Mage Tower has no fixed school. It was founded to rebuild the magical studies of a kingdom burned to ashes.”
With a sigh, the story continued.
“For instance, the Black Tower researches spell engraving, the White Tower studies elemental spells. Normally, a mage tower picks one central theme and dives into research. But not the Ashen Mage Tower.”
Snap. My master spread two fingers.
“That comes with pros and cons. The advantage is that since they don’t cherry-pick magicians, every individual’s talent shines...”
“And the downside is that everyone’s off doing their own thing.”
“Exactly, spot on. That’s the first defining trait of the Ashen Mage Tower.”
My master folded his remaining finger.
“The second trait is that they manage those wildly independent magicians by splitting them into six factions. And those are the ‘old fogeys’ you’re talking about—the Mage Tower elders.”
“Ah...”
“Get it now? It’s only natural for the elders to be on guard against a Mage Tower Lord. If a magician from one specific faction takes the seat... the balance among the six factions crumbles.”
I nodded, and my master gave a wry smile.
“Of course, I’ve got no plans to use you to build up my own faction. I’ve always been pretty cynical about these faction squabbles anyway. What right do I have to lord over young magicians? All I can offer is advice.”
What a funny situation.
After saying that, my master rose from his seat.
“So up until now, every Mage Tower Lord has come out of fights between the factions...”
“...”
“But not you, Raniel.”
My master approached me.
“The Elder himself recommended you personally. He said you could bring the divided six factions together. That’s never happened before.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
“The Elder and I see the potential in you.”
A weight that was just right—not too light, not too heavy. That hand gave my shoulder a couple of pats.
“Have some confidence.”
“But the elders...”
“The elders... Well, it’s pretty ridiculous coming from an elder like me, but...”
My master spoke with a laugh.
“The elders are just dregs.”
The scraps left after boiling the broth to death and squeezing out every last drop. Stagnant husks with nothing left to offer.
That’s how my master described the elders.
“Don’t let their words sway you, Raniel.”
Saying that, my master gripped my shoulder.
And then, he tore off the badge that adorned his robe.
-Rustle.
I remember that touch.
“The elders—including me—have already stepped back from the front lines.”
The badge he pinned to my chest.
I recall the warmth of that badge, still pinned there to this day.
“When they sneer at you, sneer right back. If they drag my achievements through the mud, you do the same to theirs—rip them apart and tear them down.”
Recalling those words, I open my eyes.
As my closed eyes flutter open, the first thing I see is the badge pinned to my chest.
I tear my gaze from the badge.
I lift my head and look straight ahead.
There sits an elderly man in his early sixties.
His face looks familiar.
“Lania van Trias.”
He calls my name. My changed name, pronounced from that old man’s lips.
I know him. How could I not?
‘Zileon.’
The longest-serving elder in the Mage Tower.
My eyes narrow naturally as I look at the old man.
2.
The position of elder in the Ashen Mage Tower is incredibly convenient.
Zileon knows this well.
And he knows exactly how to leverage it.
Zileon had rented out the entire cafe and shooed the owner outside for a bit. Now alone in the cafe with just the two of them, Zileon wrapped up his pitch.
‘I won’t spill everything.’
He’d only shared the info that would help make his case. For now, that was plenty. What Zileon was proposing was something any magician would kill for.
‘A shot at becoming the lord of the Ashen Mage Tower, no less.’
No magician alive could resist that.
With that conviction, Zileon produced what he’d prepared.
“This is the recommendation letter.”
He set down a sheet of black letter paper on the table.
The paper bore the emblem of the Ashen Mage Tower.
‘Next Mage Tower Lord recommendation letter.’
While other elders tossed theirs around like candy, Zileon had held onto his. For a chance just like this.
“My recommendation letter. Zileon’s very own.”
Zileon leaned back, emphasizing the point.
‘Once I lay down this recommendation letter, no more sales pitch needed.’
It carried that much weight.
That’s what Zileon thought.
But even after a long silence, no reply came.
“Ahem.”
Zileon cleared his throat curtly and narrowed his eyes.
He shot a glance at the girl seated across from him.
Rustle.
Ash-gray locks cascaded over her shoulders.
The blue eyes peeking through her slender lashes weren’t fixed on Zileon.
“...”
She was staring at the coffee grounds pooled at the bottom of her cup. Or perhaps something even farther beyond.
‘...She’s got an inscrutable air about her.’
That was the impression the girl gave.
No telling what was going through her head. Annoyances piled up either way.
And the biggest one of all...
‘She won’t even spare me a glance.’
The girl wasn’t even looking at the recommendation letter. That fact pricked at Zileon’s pride.
‘What the hell’s she been staring at this whole time?’
The girl’s eyes remained locked on the coffee grounds settled at the bottom of her cup.
“...”
The realization sparked doubt.
Any proper magician would recognize the value of that letter. Especially someone tied to the Ashen Mage Tower.
‘Raised under Elder Rosel, she has to know what this seat’s worth. Did she never hear the stories?’
Tension gripped the hand clutching his staff.
“Fuu...”
Zileon let out a short breath.
Then, swallowing his pride, he spoke up again.
“Did you not catch my proposal?”
He nudged the letter forward with a fingertip as he spoke.
“I’m putting you forward as the Next Mage Tower Lord...”
“So.”
The girl cut him off and opened her mouth.
An hour into their talk, this was the first time Zileon heard her voice.
“To sum it up.”
The girl’s blue eyes remained utterly clear.
With a gaze unchanged from when she’d eyed the grounds, she looked at Zileon.
She spoke.
There wasn’t a shred of interest in her voice.
“The current Next Mage Tower Lord of the Ashen Mage Tower doesn’t have the elders’ backing.”
She tilted her coffee cup.
“And since that current Next Mage Tower Lord lacks the power to unite the Ashen Mage Tower, you want to slot in a brand-new one to fill the gap.”
The cup wobbled.
The grounds inside sloshed around with the pooled liquid.
“For that role, I’m a perfect fit—same master as Lady Raniel, with all the legitimacy that comes with it. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
Spot on.
‘...I didn’t feed her every detail.’
Did she piece together the full picture from the scraps? Zileon inwardly marveled at her insight. But he kept it hidden, simply nodding.
“You’re quick on the uptake. Exactly as you said.”
Zileon smiled.
“No need to worry about the fallout. I, Zileon—the eldest of the elders—am recommending you as the Ashen Next Mage Tower Lord...”
“Pass.”
Thud. The girl shoved the coffee cup aside. The grounds spilled out in a stream of black liquid.
The spill soaked the letter.
The ash-gray emblem decorating the black paper turned inky black. That stained emblem marked Zileon’s faction.
“Why me?”
A black stain bloomed across the table.
The girl flicked a glance at the mess, then turned to Zileon. Her eyes brimmed with contempt.
3.
Resti recalls her own name.
Resti Eleanor.
More precisely, the surname tacked on after.
‘...Eleanor.’
The surname the Ashen Elder had given her when he took Resti in as his foster daughter. Thinking of the weight behind “Eleanor,” Resti let out a sigh.
“...Fuu.”
The sigh came out deep.
Her footsteps dragged without energy. The research report clutched in her hand felt heavier than usual today.
‘Exhausting.’
Every evaluation meeting dragged on like this.
They called it an evaluation, but half the time it felt like a hazing session.
‘No matter what research I submit, they always find some angle to tear into.’
If the research itself held up, they’d pick at Resti’s personal conduct instead. It had gone on for years now. They couldn’t outright boot the Elder’s handpicked candidate, so they were banking on her quitting on her own.
‘I want to throw in the towel too, but...’
Resti didn’t want to disappoint the Elder who’d taken her under his wing.
—You have talent, Resti.
She remembered that gentle voice.
He lay bedridden now, but someday when he rose again...
‘I want to greet him as Mage Tower Lord.’
That was Resti’s one wish.
No one else gave her the time of day.
That was fine. Someday, when the Elder rose from his seat, he’d see her.
That alone was enough.
With just that one fact, Resti could hold out a little longer.
“...”
Her grip tightened on the bundle of papers.
Resti resumed walking. A holiday, but she headed for the lab at Aphria Academy.
Sure, it couldn’t hold a candle to the Mage Tower’s research facilities.
But it beat slaving away under all those hostile stares.
‘Dean Aron cuts me some slack too.’
Let’s push through.
If I refine it even harder, maybe they’ll let it slide.
Lost in such thoughts, Resti wandered the quiet halls of Aphria—
“...?”
Suddenly, something caught in the corner of her vision.
Her eyes drifted to a nearby cafe. The one a certain quirky professor favored.
And sure enough, ash-gray hair was visible through the glass window. Even from a distance, that distinctive shade stood out.
‘Professor Lania?’
Working even on a holiday?
With that idle thought, Resti drifted closer to the cafe—then froze.
She’d spotted the figure seated across from her.
An elderly man dressed in a sharp suit.
And the staff clutched in his hand.
‘...Elder Zileon?’
Resti tilted her head.
‘Why’s he here?’
Elder Zileon was one of the rare elders who didn’t treat her like dirt. Not in public, but privately, he’d sent words of encouragement, claiming to root for her.
An elder who’d even smiled at her now and then.
Resti usually averted her eyes first whenever she crossed paths with one, but Zileon was the exception. One of the few who’d ever been kind to her.
‘He skipped today’s evaluation meeting too, so why here...’
And so.
Resti stared blankly at Zileon.
It was only natural that her gaze followed along to the item he drew from his breast pocket.
Black letter paper.
An elegant envelope accented with an ash-gray emblem.
The instant she saw it.
“...”
Resti’s expression went rigid.
No way she wouldn’t recognize it. She’d received one herself before.
‘Recommendation letter.’
For what position?
‘Ashen Mage Tower’s Next Mage Tower Lord.’
And who was it meant for?
‘Professor Lania.’
Rustle.
The papers clutched to Resti’s chest tumbled to the floor.
Author's Note (Afterword)
There's a typo on the cover too!