Episode 1166
Episode 1166
"This is why knights are like this! They don't understand what's truly important at all!"
"Krrrk (Agreed)."
"Lower your voices. This is the North, and it's practically a den of knights."
Among the black mages gathered here, the most moderate were those from Kallarogard.
Of course, even they had already decided that if the Moradi Family sealed off the North, they would pretend to be helpless and go along with it, thinking, 'What else can we do?'
If the other side was willing to seal off the North, it would be improper for mere black mages like them to step forward. As mages, they ought to respect the knights of the North.
"How can we persuade the Family Head?"
"You mean to convince him to seal off the North? That seems impossible..."
"This is why I said we shouldn't have invited those Kallarogard bastards! They're just a bunch of weak-willed brats!"
"Krrrrk (True words)."
The black mages of the Empire could largely be divided into two factions.
The first were the relatively sane ones—timid, unsociable, and prone to muttering, "Why is the black magic faction so unpopular and poor?"—but they didn't cause much harm.
Sure, they occasionally dug up graves to steal corpses or created illegal chimeras without permission, but considering the average behavior of mages, they weren't that bad.
The second faction consisted of those striving to uphold the traditions and spirit of ancient black magic—timid, unsociable, and prone to muttering, "Why is the black magic faction so unpopular and poor?"—while also causing major disasters.
Among the black mages present, Kallarogard and the Obsidian Magic Tower belonged to the former, while the Descendants of Ahrag and the Legion of Oondorgu belonged to the latter.
Naturally, the black mages in the latter faction found the moderate words of the former irritating.
Even if they united and pushed aggressively, it still wouldn't be enough!
"Actually, the Kallarogard black mages are right. And don't forget, when you cause trouble, we're the ones who have to clean up after you."
"Hmph. Who asked you to take responsibility?"
"Krrk (Exactly)."
"Ha. If I told you to rot in an imperial prison for life, you'd be bawling and begging—"
"W-wait, say that again! I may have apologized in front of Gonadaltes before, but I never cried! That's a baseless rumor! A rumor spread by Gonadaltes himself!"
"Kekeke (Still funny no matter how many times I hear it)."
"Enough! Please, all of you, stop!"
Professor Taswan, who had led the Kallarogard black mages here, waved his arms frantically, trying to mediate the dispute.
Taswan wasn't someone who should be looked down upon in gatherings of black mages, but unfortunately, his position here wasn't favorable.
Every black mage present had far more experience than Taswan.
The Legion of Oondorgu, whose members were all undead, didn't even need mentioning, and the Descendants of Ahrag were all monsters who had lived for over a century...
"Why should we stop? Are you looking down on me, brat? Even if Gonadaltes does it, you think you can too?"
"Krrk (How arrogant)."
"Professor Taswan. They were the ones being rude first. We have no reason to back down."
"......"
In the end, the black mages argued for another twenty minutes.
Only after they had insulted and criticized each other to their hearts' content did they, like proper mages, regain their rationality and return to the main topic.
"So, sealing off the North is impossible? Really? Does everyone here understand that we must make contact with that Crone? To do that, sealing off the North is essential!"
The third Descendant of Ahrag (they identified themselves by numbers rather than names) spoke in a subdued voice.
Yet, there wasn't the slightest waver in his tone. His determination to find what he wanted, even if it meant sealing off the North, was palpable.
The exact title of the being the Descendant of Ahrag had just mentioned was 'The Wisest and Most Crotchety Crone.'
She was an extra-dimensional entity that all the black mages here desperately wanted to meet—and the most likely cause behind the current disturbances in the North.
"Clearly, the Crone's artifact has fallen somewhere in the North. Otherwise, these monsters and phenomena can't be explained."
Monsters flooding in at untimely intervals and bizarre natural phenomena.
Even just by observing these effects, exceptional mages could analyze their cause.
These monsters and magical phenomena must undoubtedly be connected to the Crone—the one who has mastered even the most mysterious and bizarre forms of black magic!
...Or, perhaps, a rogue magic criminal specializing in black magic was causing trouble somewhere.
The black mages present desperately hoped it was the former.
The former meant they could seek the secrets and wisdom of black magic they desired, while the latter meant they'd likely be pelted with rotten eggs by the Northerners for simply being fellow black mages.
"What if some ignorant commoner finds that sigil and takes it elsewhere in the Empire? How much damage would that cause? And in the absolute worst-case scenario, another mage might get their hands on it and ask the Crone for secrets of other magics instead of black magic."
"......"
"......"
The black mages from the Obsidian Magic Tower and Kallarogard decided to pretend they hadn't just heard that.
Every time they heard such talk, they could almost understand why the Empire's people despised black mages.
'Damn it! This is so unfair. I dislike that guy too.'
Desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, Taswan forced himself to speak up.
"By the way, everyone. Have you prepared a method to pose your questions to the Crone?"
As mentioned earlier, the Crone's exact title was 'the Wisest and Most Crotchety Crone.'
Among the many eccentric and bizarre beings from other dimensions, being singled out as "crotchety" meant she truly had a temperament to match.
When dealing with such a being, simply returning her lost sigil wouldn't earn a gracious, "How commendable. Ask whatever you wish."
Finding and returning the sigil merely granted the privilege of contact.
After that, the black mages would have to coax and persuade her on their own to ask their questions.
In truth, even gaining the right to contact her was already an extraordinary and rare privilege.
The Crone generally did not grant audiences to mere mortals.
And if it weren't such a rare privilege, the Empire's black mages wouldn't be gathered here arguing over whether to blockade the North or not.
They would've just prepared offerings and sought her out themselves...
"We've prepared."
"Krrrk (Isn't that obvious?)."
"We've made preparations as well."
"...?!"
Taswan and the Kallarogard mages were taken aback.
Huh?
'Are we the only ones who didn't prepare?!'
Their reason for not preparing was simple.
They had once heard something from the Skeleton Principal.
—How to ask the Crone a question?
—Yes.
—Don't.
—......
—You worked hard to prepare offerings to make a good impression?
—Yes... we did, but—
—Don't.
—......
—I'm being serious—don't. She wouldn't even meet fledglings like you. If you somehow get entangled with her, just be polite and humble. Don't act presumptuous and try to climb your way up by throwing questions at her. Only fools like me answer stupid questions kindly—not every archmage is like that.
—Ah. Yes. Yes.
—Say "yes" once. I'll curse your soul with a sneezing hex every time you speak.
—...My apologies.
Despite his unpleasantness, the Skeleton Principal never gave bad advice when it came to magic or dimensional matters.
So the Kallarogard mages had come intending only to return the Crone's lost sigil—not to negotiate with her...
As his students looked at him in confusion, Taswan shook his head.
"Don't waver. There's no need to prepare for negotiations when we haven't even found the sigil yet. The Crone isn't an entity who grants audiences so easily. For now, we should focus on finding it first."
"What a lazy, spineless brat."
"Krrrk (Why even bother being a black mage at this rate?)."
"Wouldn't it be better to start preparing now?"
"......"
Taswan felt like abandoning all pretense of cooperation and storming out right then.
"Black mages are truly something else!"
"Wait a moment. Come to think of it, didn't they say guests from Einrogard had arrived?"
"Guests might come. So what?"
The Second Descendant of Ahrag retorted curtly.
"Could they be the black mages from Einrogard? Maybe they arrived late..."
"No."
"Why not? They might have changed their minds after receiving the invitation and come late."
"Because the black mages from Einrogard never received an invitation in the first place."
"......"
"......"
"Grk (What kind of nonsense is that)?"
The black mages present couldn't hide their bewilderment at the words of Ahrag's descendants.
What on earth did that even mean?
"B-but you clearly said the invitation was sent from your side..."
"That was a lie. We didn't send it."
"Why in the world would you lie about something like that?!"
Taswan shouted with a grave expression.
This wasn't something that could be brushed aside.
The Empire's black mages might be poor, ridiculed, and occasionally quarrel among themselves, but compared to other schools, they cooperated fairly well without deceiving one another. To shatter that harmony with such a petty trick—no matter how much they coveted the Crone's wisdom, this was unacceptable. What would the black mages of Einrogard think?
"That bastard Mortum keeps bragging about his disciple nonstop!"
The Second Descendant of Ahrag shouted in a voice thick with anger.
"I clearly tried to contact him to inform him. But all he did was go on about how great his disciple was, how much easier his life had become thanks to him—how could that not piss me off? Let Einrogard teach that precious disciple of theirs black magic! The Crone is ours to meet!"
The atmosphere in the room instantly turned solemn.
Surprisingly, the others found themselves somewhat agreeing.
"Grk (Mortum has been a bit excessive lately)."
"N-now, even so..."
"Be honest, kid. You're from the Magic Academy too, aren't you? Haven't you ever felt jealousy bubbling up at Mortum's words? Haven't you ever wondered why you don't have a disciple like that?!"
"N-no! Everyone, don't misunderstand!"
Taswan quickly tried to calm his disciples. The students behind him eyed their teacher with suspicion.
His denial had come just a tad too late... hadn't it?
"The Family Head will grant an audience soon, so everyone should rest appropriately."
Giselle said this and was about to leave first.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned back and spoke to Lee Han.
"Wardanaz, don't wander around. And I especially recommend you avoid contact with the knights."
"It's not my fault the knights are getting stronger the Einrogard way—"
"Moradi already left. Wardanaz."
Grumbling, Lee Han retreated into the lodging.
The Moradi family's fortress, built atop a towering, jagged mountain with tightly packed facilities, always offered a spectacular view to its visitors.
But this time, there was no opportunity to admire the northern scenery. Lee Han pulled out the stone tablet from his bag.
Catten, his roommate, watched with sparkling eyes.
"Planning to study magic?"
"Ah. Yes. That's right."
"May I assist you?"
"It would be an honor."
Lee Han had taken out the stone tablet partly to make the most of their limited time, but also out of sheer curiosity.
A mage of Bakwantalana's caliber was someone even Lee Han recognized as extraordinary—so why dabble in black magic?
'Ah. That was too rude. Diret Senior would be sad.'
Lee Han shook his head in self-reproach.
As someone from a black magic school himself, he needed to break the habit of casually belittling black magic.
"Could you tell me what script you can read here?"
"Bakwantalana's... black magic."
"...That's the writing I just put down, isn't it?"
Standard Imperial script was a language few couldn't read.
"Other than that, there doesn't seem to be anything else..."
As Catten's ears drooped, Lee Han hastily added,
"It's fine! I'll decipher it, so please just watch over me from behind, Senior."
Seeing Catten's beaming smile again, Lee Han felt a sense of déjà vu.
'Somehow, this reminds me of Gainando when he was teaching me assignments...'
D...d...d...nya?
"?"
Lee Han glanced around. He thought he'd heard something faint, like an auditory hallucination.
Almost like an old woman's voice...
'Must be my imagination?'