Magic Tower Duties #1

The meals at the Magic Tower were remarkably simple. Rachel quickly packed her things and slipped outside. Adapting to a strange new place was always tough, but for her young master, she'd adjust anywhere.

Heading cautiously to Lawrence's room, she locked eyes with someone. A man with a terrifying, fierce glare. His tight clothes clung to muscles that looked anything but ordinary.

"Whoa—!"

"Eek!?"

The man's gravelly exclamation made her tremble—he was a type she'd never encountered back at Montemer. But his next words were surprisingly kind and gentlemanly.

"Aren't you the little master's maid? Nice to meet you! I'm heading to the kitchen to prep dinner. Want to come along? I can give you a tower tour too."

"Pardon? Oh! Y-yes!"

Rachel blanked for a second before nodding eagerly. She was curious about the tower's menu and ingredients, after all. These were the foods her young master would eat. Of course she'd care.

"Shall we, then?"

"Pleased to be working with you."

"I'm Dillon, by the way. Commoner stock, but I handle mana pretty well, so they let me in."

"I see. I'm Rachel. I serve Young Master Lawrence."

Dillon started chatting amiably, sharing tips as they walked. Tower layout, where everything was, meal schedules, daily routines... Rachel whipped out her notepad and jotted it all down diligently. Recording and applying habits was Maid 101, after all.

They arrived at the dining hall. Rachel stared in shock at the pile of ingredients in one corner.

"Wh-what is all this!?"

"What else? Chicken breasts! Nothing beats 'em for building muscle!"

"Ugh, that fishy smell... You live on this stuff? Nothing else?"

"We've got rice and veggies too."

Rachel inspected the ingredients, then checked the seasonings. Salt. Pepper. Astonishingly, that was it for the tower's spices.

Feed this junk to her young master!?

"Haah..."

"What's wrong?"

"If I may ask, what's tonight's dinner?"

"Chicken breast salad."

Rachel rolled up her sleeves. She had to rescue her young master from this chicken breast hell, pronto. He was only eleven—he needed delicious, nutritious food in abundance. Junk like this would stunt his growth!

"How many people total?"

"Er... forty-six now?"

"Perfect. I'll handle dinner tonight."

"Huh!?"

"Move it, people! No time to waste."

Shh-shh-shh—

Rachel darted about silently, with assassin-like precision. Dillon gawked, stunned by the sudden turn.

Montemer's maid sure packs a punch.

He'd worried she might struggle to fit in. But that was unfounded—she was already blending in perfectly.

#2

Meanwhile, Lawrence stepped outside the tower, surveying its overall state. Iron Hanma, the tower master, stood beside him.

"So you're going to fix up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this crumbling heap?"

"Yes."

"Think you can pull it off?"

"I'll need to check the materials warehouse first."

Lawrence could see it all: what was needed where, the repair methods. A long-term project—at least a year of steady work.

Iron Hanma eyed him quietly.

What is this kid? No ordinary mage, that's for sure.

Questions burned, but now was for bonding. He led Lawrence to the warehouse and planned to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠share some recent spellbooks too.

As they walked, he voiced his first curiosity.

"I've been dying to ask—why pick the Iron Tower?"

"Iron and meat. And I sense what I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after is here."

"Hah, now that's an answer I like."

"Does the tower master know why this tower was built here?"

Iron Hanma nodded at the counter-question. Icaller, inventor of iron magic and the tower's lone builder—the first battle mage founding his school. That was the origin.

Lawrence grinned and nodded as the tale unfolded. Dragons do hide their tracks, spinning yarns like this.

Absorbed like a kid hearing grandpa's stories, he soon reached the rear materials warehouse—while studying the public history via Fabricated History.

"This area's for contraption parts. Use whatever you need."

"Got it."

"We'll hash out schedules over dinner. They're your seniors, but the age gap's big—they'll treat you right. No worries."

Of course. Lawrence bowed lightly to the departing tower master, dinner rendezvous set.

Alone time. Time to inspect slowly.

The warehouse reeked of musty iron. As he began a thorough check, astonishing info flooded his vision.

Another miracle, right on cue.

"Whoa..."

These scattered scraps were Icaller's scales? Dragon shed from growth, weathered over ages into iron-hard bits.

Lawrence fiddled with one. Train with this, get stronger—nice.

His gaze shifted. Restoration materials for the tower—plain rocks at a glance, but extraordinary in truth.

This was it. Lawrence decided to join dinner first. Wonder what Rachel was up to?

He had no clue. What she was doing now—or how high she'd climb in this tower ahead.

#3

"Wh-what is all this?"

"Tower Master! Brother! We've witnessed a miracle!"

"This is... really made from chicken breasts?"

"Yes! She pulled it off!"

Ahem—

Rachel stood proudly before steaming chicken breast steaks. She'd worked real magic, turning tough, tasteless meat into something delicious.

The tower master sampled it at her urging. Strange music swelled in his head. The usual chewy, fishy slop was gone.

"Phew... This is the limit for now, but I'll request beef and pork from the family."

"Ooooooh—!!"

"You're a blessed talent! How can we repay this grace?!"

"Hehe..."

Fresh from training, the sweaty mages rushed in—freshly showered and fluffy. Rachel bowed to them.

"Greetings! I'm Rachel, newly arrived with Young Master Lawrence. I'll handle your meals from now on!"

"Ooh."

"We should make Rachel an elder!"

"Right! Chicken breasts this good?!"

If this wasn't magic, what was? Her skills, honed serving Lawrence the finest meats, shone here.

As her nose rose sky-high, Lawrence entered.

"There you are. You got here early?"

"Young master! One favor!"

Rachel declared boldly upon spotting him. What now? Intrigued, Lawrence listened.

"I'd like to request supplies from home—like last time, ingredients... Possible?"

"Hmm, well? Requests aren't impossible, but..."

"Won't the lady support us again?"

"Doubt it. Tower master's here—no weird stunts."

Mages eavesdropped breathlessly. The tower scraped by financially—scarce materials, pricey iron, skimpy funding and commissions. Hence, cheap chicken breasts.

But now! Montemer's heir—one of the North's top houses, Empire pillar—had arrived!

"I'll refine my research for perfect steaks!"

"For real?"

"Yes!"

"Then this tower master chips in. We'll take Montemer's personal commissions from now on. Good pretext, right?"

Personal commissions—tough jobs direct to the master. Iron Tower got few calls; pride kept them from begging.

But now, bold declaration. Lawrence shook his head at the scene.

These guys are all iron-and-meat maniacs. Love it.

"Fine. I'll write the letter. Tower master, your support too?"

"Deal!"

"Ooooooh—! Beef! Pork—!"

"Hehe, I'll grill you perfect steaks."

Rachel was named head chef that day. (No prior chef, anyway.)

Joyful dinner ensued. Tower master announced the big schedule.

"Newbie's here—time for a rare outing."

"Finally, someone to take us out."

"Yeah."

"The spring Magic Tower Tournament?"

Lawrence chimed in aptly. Tower master nodded.

"Under-15s only. We'll declare battle mages' true revival there!"

"Ooooooh—!"

"And knights' cadets will observe!"

"We cannot lose!"

You mages are acting like it...

Lawrence felt a kinship with this crowd.

This'll be fun ahead.

Then, reason to join the tournament appeared—a message on his retina.