A Foreign Princess's Fury and the Thirteen Magic Towers
While some foreign princess ignorant of fairy meat fumed at the nobles who had come all the way from another country just to smear my face, the lecture dragged on. Beni, as always, sat in the front row, diligently jotting down notes on the lesson.
Coming from a commoner background with no military experience, she lacked foundational knowledge in many areas and had to work twice as hard as everyone else. She'd landed a short-term gig charging batteries on a mana train, only to get a recommendation letter on the spot after someone remarked, "You've got a ton of mana." The extent of her magic knowledge was the chit-chat she'd overheard from the middle-aged ladies next to her, all pumping mana together—gossip about dried squid.
And even that was of dubious veracity; who knew what was fact and what was fiction? Stories of participating in epic subjugation battles or catching a glimpse of the crown princess herself... If everything those women said was true, the Empire would've conquered the world by now.
Of course, it wasn't impossible that those sentenced to battery duty—unlike ordinary folks like Beni just there to earn coin—had crossed paths with great heroes. A battery sentence implied something like treasonous involvement. But criminals like that didn't have the luxury of "taking it easy if it's too tough." They wouldn't have the stamina left for gossip anyway. And even if they did, who would want to chat with hardened felons?
"The history of magic engineering is the history of abbreviation."
Thwack. A slightly flexible metal staff tapped the large blackboard at the front of the lecture hall. The spot it touched whitened, and Captain Yael Jeffrison wrote several words across it with brush-like flourishes.
"Words left by the great archmage de Boo. Why did he say that? Because the limits of magic are the limits of chanting."
Even as she spoke, her mouth spun a separate tale. For field mages, this level of multitasking—mouth and hands moving independently—was second nature, like breathing.
"The process of drawing a magic circle in your mind's eye can be shortened through training. If you repeat the same circle endlessly, you can theoretically reduce construction time to near zero in principle. But chanting can't be abbreviated that way."
Thwack, thwack, thwack. The captain struck the board again with crisp rhythm. Her white professor-officer uniform fluttered slightly.
"Chanting is bound by rhythm. A slight margin of error is tolerable... but conversely, no matter how fast you try to recite, you can only shave it down to that error margin at best. No matter the trick, spells of the same length demand the same time."
A hush fell over the classroom. For some reason, all eyes converged on one spot.
"...Ahem. Excluding supernatural sorcery would invalidate academic theory altogether. As I mentioned last time."
Captain Yael cleared her throat awkwardly and continued. There'd been something similar last lecture too. Was she even more remarkable than I'd thought?
Beni glanced at the woman in uniform standing in the corner and had that sudden thought. She's the lowest rank, and she just seems like a kind soldier...
But with everyone reacting like that, she clearly wasn't ordinary. A genius with a short career but overwhelming talent—such stories were common enough. Rumors even said she was blessed by the gods, able to speak all languages at once. Hard for an Empire-born girl like Beni to grasp, but the foreign students' awed reactions suggested it wasn't baseless.
"In any case, you can't speed up spell chanting. To demand more efficiency, you have no choice but to shorten the spells themselves."
The captain's staff pointed to the words in the center of the board: Magic Engineering Advancement = Spell Efficiency.
"This staff is a prime example. The spells of the Vermilion Tower omit certain elements. Like projectile launch direction or target designation."
In place of that "designation clause," a brief phrase was inserted. Yael continued in her usual calm voice.
"'Substitute with the direction indicated by the pointer.' By replacing the directional setup phrase not with your mouth, but with your hand and magic staff, the chanter's verbal load lightens accordingly."
"The magic staff, also called the 'pointer,' substitutes part of the spell. That's the core philosophy of the Vermilion Tower, the Ballista School. Countless magic researchers have explored practical combat applications."
Among the terms Yael wrote on the board were many besides "Vermilion Tower."
"The red towers, first codified by Archmage Ivec."
Scarlet Tower (), Classical School.
Vermilion Tower (), Ballista School.
Cinnabar Tower (), Knot School.
Carmine Tower (), Handmaiden School.
"The blue towers, added after the Mana Revolution by Archmage de Boo."
Azure Tower (), Weaving School.
Cerulean Tower (), Charm School.
Indigo Tower (), Catapult School.
Viridian Tower (), Landmine School.
Violet Tower (), Starlight School.
"And the black towers, for researching related fields like holy law, humanoid law, and sorcery."
Black Tower (), Enlightenment School.
Mysterious Tower (), Silence School.
Raven Tower (), Anatomy School.
Ink Tower (), Heart Chamber School.
"Thirteen magic towers in total. Modern magic engineering is divided into these thirteen schools."
Most treat wartime applications as their top priority, Yael added with a shrug.
"As you can see from this staff, my preferred magic is from the Vermilion Tower, Ballista School. I mix in Cerulean Tower spells sometimes, but my mainstay is Vermilion Tower. You've probably seen other professors carrying magic staves too."
A few students nodded, Beni among them. Plenty of magic-knight professors—those specializing in magecraft—did carry them.
"Vermilion Tower spells have many advantages. They're simple and straightforward: aim at the enemy and fire. And reliable—the spells are cleanly truncated to shorten chanting time."
Not every mage equips a Ballista School staff, though.
"Proof that while useful, Vermilion Tower spells aren't perfect. So, what are the drawbacks of this approach?"
"Forget it at home and you're screwed!"
"Er... Please raise your hand next time. ...Though you're not wrong."
Well answered, student Riley Tiwe Kuntak, Yael said with an embarrassed smile.
"Of course, any fool who leaves their precious magic staff on the battlefield deserves summary execution... But even short of that, you could drop it or have it stolen. Anything else?"
It ties up your hand, hindering other weapons. Other spells only fail if your mouth is silenced; this one is neutralized if your arm is pinned. Attack trajectories become predictable and linear...
More answers followed Riley's, and Yael nodded repeatedly. Most were spot-on. No one would speak up confidently without certainty.
...Except that one barbarian princess. But she'd nailed it first this time too, so exception granted.
"Every school's spells have pros and cons. Naturally. If any lacked drawbacks, everyone would use it exclusively."
At least in the military, a group obsessed with peak efficiency. The captain chuckled softly.
"With that, let's spend today on their key characteristics."
×
"Off to check the club room!"
"Wait, why me too—eeek?!"
"You're a member! Come on!"
Right after the lecture ended, Beni was grabbed by the Riley sitting next to her. With a vice-like arm around her shoulders, Riley dragged her into a run. It was exhausting stumbling along like that, and the pressure on her chest made breathing hard.
If Yura Konstantia had seen this, she'd have ground her teeth in envy—but she'd long since been summoned by a neighboring princess and left.
"...Whoa."
The club room they arrived at was nicer than expected. Just two members, trivial activities—it was assigned the day after applying, so she'd braced for some dusty corner closet.
It was tucked in the back of the building, but surprisingly spacious. Table, chairs, empty bookshelf—that was all the furniture, so it felt a bit bare. But who needed more? It even made the space seem bigger. And it looked recently cleaned.
The power of a frontier countess...?
Beni glanced at Riley beside her. Groomha County heir—or so the Empire claimed—the vast borderlands ruler. Her influence was clearly formidable if the academy handed over a room like this.
In truth, it was the other way around: Riley's status got them this due to heavy surveillance. Beni would faint if she knew how many monitoring spells lurked here. The remote location was deliberate—to see if they'd try anything suspicious where no one wandered.
"Pretty big for just two of us."
"Three with the advisor."
"Yeah, true. Still spacious even for three."
"More members might join!"
Will they...? Beni swallowed the thought.
From other students' views, both she and Riley seemed like pariahs. Beni for being a civilian without military service; Riley... well, obvious enough. Scorned as eastern barbarian tribe spawn.
...Both wrong, actually. Riley drew distance partly from that, sure. But more from being a potential enemy nation's heir. Beni's ostracism stemmed from the same: not just Konstantia, but now escorting this term's biggest powder keg, marking her as "no ordinary girl."
Of course, Beni—swallowing imperial propaganda wholesale—knew none of this. To her, Riley was just a high-status, rough-around-the-edges, honorable imperial ally.
She'd felt a psychological gap right after learning Riley's status... but.
"Ooh! Clock on the wall too! Love the design!"
"......"
How could that be a noble lady not to manhandle? More like a giant talking dog. Riley dumped her spear in the corner and spun around the room. Beni sighed softly.
"So... uh, you really just here to look around?"
"For homework too!"
Riley flung her bag onto the table. Stuffed with notes, pens... and, inexplicably, a plucked, blood-drained pigeon corpse.
"Library's too quiet—can't focus. From now on, all homework here!"
"Yeah... fair enough."
Having a club room helped there. Beni nodded. She doubted that giant dog could focus anywhere... but the library was oppressively silent. She'd tried it once; the whole space felt flash-frozen, scattering her thoughts. No wonder 21st-century YouTube overflowed with 10-hour white noise videos. Some thrived in that, but not Beni.
Lieutenant Konstantia would probably adapt fine.
Konstantia might even prefer it. In Beni's mind, she was the perfect soldier—kind-hearted, but flawless otherwise. Holding a stance for hours? Easy.
Konstantia would call it "too lewd to concentrate," but that's beside the point for now.
"Homework... yeah. What to do?"
Beni pulled up a chair and muttered. Captain Yael's parting assignment.
"The biggest hurdle when starting magic engineering is drawing the magic circle. If any of you haven't cast a spell yet... it's like perfectly imagining a complex 3D figure in your head. Unwavering from any angle."
"This will plague you for life. Shortening spells and chants is for researchers, not soldiers—so it's your sole hurdle. Train one circle repeatedly for correct, swift construction..."
"The goal: close your eyes and summon its form instantly. But mastery of hundreds or thousands? Human life is too short. Hence, focus and specialization."
"Here's the question: 'What to specialize in?' You'll wrestle with it all freshman year. For starters, by next lecture, pick the magic tower that suits you best—and the one that suits you least. Short rationale why."
She'd heard the towers' features in class. Notes were thorough. But Beni still agonized.
"What are my strengths and weaknesses in magic engineering...?"
She'd barely cast any spells. How could she know what fit her?
She'd gotten in thanks to above-average mana reserves—barely enough to scrape by, not exceptional. Good memory got praise, but that aided other skills, not magic directly...
"Ah, got it. Advisor picked our club—ask her when she comes!"
"Oh, right. She's a genius from class mentions."
Riley's advice cut through Beni's worry. Sound logic; Beni nodded. Riley wasn't the sharpest overall... but not foolish. She had insights like this sometimes.
"Perfect for future magic dilemmas too."
...Pity sound advice isn't always right.
"You want magic lessons?"
"Yes. You're our senior in magic engineering, so I thought..."
"Can't hurt."
When Beni raised it with Yura Konstantia upon her club room arrival, she felt relieved.
"First, a key premise. Hard to publicize, but the world's truth: humans are actually a slave race created by ancient elves."
"......Huh?"
...A mishap born of ignorance: no prior knowledge of what the world called Yura Konstantia's mentor.