Chapter 48: The Magic Society (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 48: The Magic Society (1)
Count Zenonia stared blankly ahead.
There, Marquis Philboyd—the head of the Noble Faction and a man whose political power was impossible to ignore—was bowing his head to Count Palatio.
What in the world...?
Although Count Zenonia had primarily operated in the underworld before creating Kalpa, she wasn't entirely ignorant of the current political landscape. The Zenonia family had often profited by playing the various factions against each other.
Even if she hadn't been politically active, the scene before her was nothing short of astonishing.
As a rule, high-ranking nobles in the political sphere never bowed to others. Unlike the underworld, where one might bow to achieve a goal only to stab the other person in the back later, the political world of the nobility prioritized justification, the Great Cause, and prestige above all else.
In a place where prestige and justification dictated almost everything, bowing to someone was equivalent to handing over an immense amount of leverage, both internally and externally.
How...?
Count Zenonia looked at Count Palatio.
Despite receiving what was essentially a total declaration of defeat from Marquis Philboyd, his expression didn't show even a hint of surprise. It was as if he had foreseen this exact moment.
Seeing this, a thrill ran through Zenonia’s fingertips, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
As expected. He’s incredible.
She had no idea what methods Count Palatio had used to force such a surrender from Marquis Philboyd—honestly, she couldn't even imagine it. But since the power itself was what mattered to her, she couldn't help but gaze at him with eyes full of admiration.
However...
...What is going on?
Alon was looking at the deeply bowing Marquis Philboyd with pure bewilderment.
“...”
Silence.
Of course, Alon wasn't being silent because he wanted to; he was simply trying to grasp the situation, having no clue what had happened.
Did I... do something?
Alon racked his brain, even forgetting to chew the financier in his mouth, but he soon shook his head. No matter how hard he thought, he had no memory of doing anything. In fact, he had been far too busy to even think about targeting Marquis Philboyd.
...Did a rumor get out?
Naturally, Alon began to consider other possibilities.
Come to think of it, rumors that I’m close with Seolrang have started to spread lately.
He thought of Duke Altia and Count Zenonia, who already knew the rumors circulating in the Colony, but he quickly discarded that hypothesis. While it was true that other nobles had been treating him with more respect because of those rumors, it made no sense for a Marquis to bow his head just because of a connection to Seolrang.
After reviewing several theories, only one conclusion remained.
...What on earth did these two do?
Alon glanced sideways at Count Zenonia and Duke Altia, who were staring intently at him. Even with his limited political knowledge, he knew how absurd it was for a faction leader to bow like this. As he stared blankly at the two women...
...Ah.
He remembered that the two women behind him were destined to become two of the Three Black Curtains of the Asteria Kingdom.
...I need to be careful.
Just as Alon finished his thought...
“Truly, I have lost...!”
Marquis Philboyd, the head of the Noble Faction who had never bowed in public before, lowered his head even further, begging for forgiveness. There was no trace of shame or anger in him. Instead, the Marquis’s face was etched with pure terror.
The reason was a single letter he had received a few days ago.
It had arrived shortly after Duke Rimgrave was suddenly served a Re-education Letter and dragged off to the Holy Kingdom. The contents were sparse: a single small magic orb and one sentence.
Yet, that orb and that sentence were more than enough to strike chilling fear into Marquis Philboyd.
The disposable magic orb contained a recording.
[I—I know nothing! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—!]
It was a five-second clip of Duke Rimgrave, bound to a stark white chair, trembling violently as if a seizure button had been pressed, desperately repenting in total terror.
And on the parchment left behind after the orb shattered into dust, a single line was written:
[You’re next.]
That was all it took. Marquis Philboyd was terrified, and he naturally deduced where this counterattack had originated.
Count Palatio...!
He couldn't fathom how Count Palatio had connections in the Holy Kingdom that surpassed even the Cardinals they had bribed. But that wasn't the important part.
What mattered was that Duke Rimgrave, who had conspired with him to bury Count Palatio, had been hit by a backlash and dragged to the Holy Kingdom, where he was now a broken shell of a man.
And he was the next target.
If he hadn't received that letter, Marquis Philboyd would never have bowed to Count Palatio. Receiving a Re-education Letter was a massive political blow, but as long as one hadn't actually consorted with heretics, their physical safety was usually guaranteed.
However, Duke Rimgrave had been struck down despite having no ties to heresy. This meant it was highly likely that Count Palatio had orchestrated the whole thing.
Driven by the relentless fear of ending up like the Duke, he finally bowed his head.
“Please—!”
He went beyond a mere bow, dropping to his knees and prostrating himself on the floor. It was a desperate struggle, a sign that he was willing to abandon his political career and retire quietly just to live out the rest of his life in one piece.
At that sight...
Incredible...!
As expected of the Count...!
While Count Zenonia and Duke Altia looked at Alon with eyes full of reverence...
...Impressive. What the hell did they do?
Alon looked at the two women with a slightly disturbed expression.
In the end, that day...
“...I shall take it into consideration.”
With those cryptic words, Alon left the ballroom under the gaze of everyone present. This incident completely erased any lingering suspicions that Count Palatio might just be a puppet leader meant to let Altia and Zenonia move freely.
* * *
About three days after the symposium began.
Alon left the Veritun territory and began heading east. His goal was to attend the Magic Society conference, which was the primary purpose of this trip.
Leaving behind the symposium, which still had two days left, Alon traveled for five days toward Bluegill, a territory near the Magic Society, following the letter Rian had sent him.
During the journey, Alon heard the news from Evan that Marquis Philboyd had finally received a Re-education Letter.
“So he was dragged away in the end...”
“Huh? Didn't you send it, Count?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“...I’ve been with you this whole time. Do you think I had the time for that?”
“Well, that’s true, but...” Evan hesitated before confessing. “Lately, how should I put it... I get the feeling you’re hiding something, Count.”
“Me? Like what?”
“Well... your magic, and various other things. You said you weren't doing anything before, but now you’ve suddenly become the leader of a faction, haven't you?”
Alon thought for a moment before answering. “...Becoming the leader was purely an accident.”
“You can become a leader by accident...?”
“...”
Now that he mentions it, he has a point, Alon thought briefly.
“I think we’re almost there.”
With Evan’s relaxed comment, Alon arrived in Bluegill, a territory belonging to the Ashtalon Kingdom near the Magic Society.
Not long after, he met Rian at the designated spot, where she was waiting with mages from the Red Magic Tower.
“Hello, Count.”
“Good to see you.”
Unlike their previous meeting, Rian bowed politely, and they immediately headed toward the Magic Society. Thanks to the carriage they took upon arriving in Bluegill, they reached the Central Tower while the sun was still up.
“Whoa... it’s huge.”
Evan marveled at the sight of the Central Tower. Alon was equally impressed. Although he had seen illustrations of the tower many times while playing Psychedelia, seeing it in person was a completely different experience.
...Is it taller than the Lotte Tower?
Unlike the scenery he had seen in the game, the sheer scale of such a tall tower in a fantasy setting felt overwhelming. He spent a good while staring up at the tower, comparing it to the skyscrapers of his previous world.
“It’s really big, isn't it?”
“Indeed.”
“Let’s head inside first.”
Alon entered the tower with Rian.
“From what I know, the Green Magic Tower will be presenting a newly established theory on the first day. After that, there will probably be some friendly matches. And tomorrow—”
Alon listened to Rian’s explanations as they walked further inside.
“There are fewer people than I expected.”
“Well, it’s not the Grand Assembly period yet.”
“Grand Assembly?”
“Ah, did I not explain that?”
Alon nodded as he listened to Rian’s new explanation.
“So, in short, the Grand Assembly is a conference where even the Tower Masters participate.”
“Exactly. That’s why there are usually a lot of mages during the Grand Assembly. Though the regular conferences are busy too.”
As Alon nodded at the lore that hadn't appeared in the game...
“Ugh, these dimwits, seriously.”
“What? That’s going too far!”
“Too far? If you can't even understand this much, you are dimwits. Don't you agree?”
Alon looked puzzled as he heard a familiar, sharp voice coming from one side of the Central Tower. Rian let out a sigh.
“Looks like someone else got into an argument with the Vice Tower Master of the Blue Magic Tower.”
“...The Vice Tower Master of the Blue Magic Tower?”
“Yes. I’m sure you know her, but she’s someone who lives for her own ego. She’s probably picking a fight and starting a duel again.”
Alon was about to ask about the blatant hostility in Rian’s voice, remembering how she seemed to dislike the Blue Magic Tower before.
“Hey! Let’s go again!”
“Go again? You idiots. Do you really think you can beat me? What, ten of you weren't enough, so you’re going to bring twenty this time?”
“You!!”
Penia, who had just emerged from the friendly match arena followed by a crowd of angry mages, was walking away with a blatant sneer. Then...
“Hm?”
She spotted Rian and curled her lips into a smirk.
“Well, look who it is. Isn't it the half-baked mage who couldn't even put up a fight against me last year?”
It was a direct provocation. Rian scowled and glared at her, but Penia ignored her gaze, her face full of mockery.
“What? Did you bring a friend this time to try and defy me together—”
She naturally shifted her gaze to the right.
“Uh...?”
She froze.
“?”
Then, her face turned pale.
Just a moment ago, she had been radiating arrogance, treating everyone around her like trash. Now, she had stopped dead as if she had malfunctioned. Rian looked confused, but only for a moment.
“H-Hello...!”
“?”
Rian’s expression went blank at the words that tumbled out of Penia’s mouth.
Honorifics.
Polite speech, something Rian thought Penia would never use, was flowing from her lips for the first time ever.
And then...
“It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
The woman known externally as a once-in-a-century genius but nicknamed a legendary brat among mages answered like a soldier standing at attention.
““???””
Not only Rian, but even the angry mages who had been following Penia stood there with their mouths agape, staring at Count Palatio, the man who had just achieved the impossible.