The Archmage Arrives
On the road to the inner castle, Frox came upon a curious sight.
People who looked to be injured patients stood in lines along the roadside, and Ahental soldiers managed them with practiced order. Frox caught one of the soldiers by the arm.
"Why are all these patients standing in line?"
"Are you a traveler, sir? These people are waiting to receive treatment from the Alien Holy Man. A great many were hurt in last night's fire."
"The Alien Holy Man?"
"You must not be from around here. He's a healer our young lord recently brought in. His skill is extraordinary."
"Is that so?"
Frox thanked him with a wave and continued on toward the inner castle.
Ereb, that boy has done something admirable.
Poor commoners could not even dream of receiving treatment from the Church. That was why they needed a healer of real ability, and Ereb seemed to have recognized as much and brought someone in.
Speak of the devil — in the distance, Ereb appeared on horseback, gesturing as he directed the soldiers of the Watch.
Strange. Wasn't the Watch the eldest son's responsibility? Ayres's?
Their eyes met. Ereb started, swung down from the saddle, and came running.
"Master Frox!"
"Working hard, I see. Where has your brother gone, and why are you commanding the Watch?"
"As of today, I'm in charge of it!"
"...You? Public order?"
Wasn't this the boy furthest from anything resembling law and order...?
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"...Never mind."
Frox entered the inner castle with Ereb.
Having run into the boy, he wanted nothing more than to shout, What did you find in the ruins of the Forest of Resentment?! — but he swallowed the curiosity whole. He had no wish to lose his dignity in front of a child young enough to be his son. So he changed the subject.
"I heard you brought in a healer. Looking at that line out there, he must be quite something."
"You mean Messi. Yeah, he's good. Word's already spreading that he's better than the priests..."
"Better than a priest? You little— that's a joke."
Frox did not look as though he believed a word of it. Ereb felt genuinely wronged.
"It's true."
"A married man, lying like a child. You shouldn't tease your elders."
At this rate, nothing he said would get through. Ereb was turning over how to clear his name when he spotted Erena in front of the main hall, and his face lit up.
"Then I'll make you believe it."
"Hey now, you little..."
Erena was at her rehabilitation training outside the main hall. As Frox and Ereb drew near, she took the hand of her lady-knight escort and rose from the wheelchair.
"Wh—what?"
Frox's eyes went wide. What on earth was he looking at? Erena — the girl for whom even he had found no treatment — was standing up and walking?
Something enormous had happened in his absence.
"Just what... happened while I was gone?"
He had no choice but to demand an explanation from Ereb.
"Frox!"
"Roan! It's been too long."
They exchanged letters often enough, but it had been ages since he had seen his research-obsessed friend in the flesh. Viscount Ahental and Frox shared a brief embrace, then stepped apart.
"So — did you get my letter?"
"What letter?"
"I had my eldest send you one quite some time ago. I assumed that's why you'd come."
"I came because I heard the rumors about your territory! And here I was, feeling slighted that you hadn't sent me a single word when something this big had happened!"
"Is that so?"
Viscount Ahental found this puzzling. He had dispatched the letter the very day Ereb arrived — that was twenty-one days ago. If there had been a problem with the delivery, it would certainly have been reported.
Could it be... he had other ideas?
Lately he had felt himself drifting from his eldest son. In the old days their views had aligned, and he could trust the boy with anything. But more and more, Ayres seemed to be keeping his own counsel.
Seeing the viscount's expression darken, Frox asked,
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. If every day were like these recent ones, I'd have nothing to worry about."
"I can imagine. Ereb made it back safely, after all."
"Thanks to those scrolls you gave him. I was shocked when I heard a miser like you had handed them all over."
"Heh. I couldn't help it — I remembered you thirty years ago, hood over your head, talking about raiding a merchant caravan."
"You— don't bring up that nonsense!"
"Hahaha!"
The atmosphere warmed with the easy jokes of old friends. Then the drawing-room door opened, and the Ahental family entered together.
"It's been a long time, Sir Frox."
Elroi, the viscount's wife, offered her greeting, and Frox welcomed her warmly.
"Elroi... you are as beautiful as ever. How you ever became the wife of a fellow like Roan remains the greatest mystery of my life. You were the dream of countless men!"
"Oh-ho! But not yours, Sir Frox?"
"W-well, of course not — I mean, if you look closely, I too..."
"Oh-ho. No need for flattery."
Elroi's face brightened, apparently pleased by Frox's flustered expression.
Then his gaze fell on Erena in her wheelchair.
"I saw Erena walking a little, just now. Roan, you must have nothing left to wish for. You've gotten everything you wanted, haven't you?"
"There's one more thing. I wrote it in the letter I sent you... a shame you never read it."
Viscount Ahental said this while looking at Ayres. The eldest son's face did not change. And that, more than anything, was suspicious. Normally he would have at least shown some sign of apology for his mistake.
"I can learn it now. I've plenty of questions as it is."
"That's the Frox I know. Come this way."
The viscount led Frox to his study. At the same time, he left an order for Ereb: bring Sir Messi.
In that moment, the viscount seemed even more impatient than Frox.
Once they were in the study, the viscount laid a bundle of old papers before Frox. Preservation magic had been applied, and they were in better condition than before. Frox recognized them at once. He muttered in disbelief.
"...Ancient magic?"
"Ereb brought them back from the ruins in the Forest of Resentment."
"This is insane! Good heavens! Is today some birthday of mine I'd forgotten?!"
"Hahaha!"
Frox immediately buried his face in the papers, scanning them one by one. It was such a characteristically friendly reaction that Viscount Ahental burst out laughing.
"Can you tell what they are? This is your field, isn't it?"
"I specialize in the restoration of practical magic, yes. But that doesn't make me an expert in every ancient language."
Meaning he could not interpret a tongue he did not know. From the familiar magic circles, formulas, and illustrations he had seen in his study of ancient magic, however, he could roughly grasp the subject matter.
"This looks like alchemy... no, there's Genesis Sorcery in here too... What are they trying to create? This is a troll emblem. They're using monsters as materials? In alchemy, the troll signifies 'eternal life' and 'power'... Handling monster blood and flesh would raise the difficulty of the magic considerably..."
"...I'll have to throw myself into the language first. As far as I know, no one alive still speaks Yagran, but the materials should still exist. I need to gather as much foundational reference as possible — the more we have, the more accurate the interpretation. I'll have to request documents from the Palantir Kingdom Capital Library. The librarians there should be able to collect as much as can be found."
"Haha!"
Watching his friend already spreading out papers and laying plans, the viscount felt a deep sense of reassurance.
"What's so amusing? I'm staring into a dark abyss just thinking about interpreting all this."
"Don't worry. I've invited a distinguished guest just for you. I'm rather curious how you'll react."
"...?"
Frox tilted his head — and someone knocked on the study door.
"Speak of the devil. Our guest has arrived. Come in!"
The door opened, and Messi entered.
Frox was a man Messi had heard of often. He had looked forward to meeting him in person — and now that first meeting had come.
Streaks of white showed among the blond hair. In his youth, he must have been far more popular with women than Viscount Ahental. He stood a full head taller than the viscount, and his build was so impressive one might have taken him for a knight rather than a mage.
"So this is the Alien Holy Man? The one who made Erena stand?"
He had already heard about it on the way. Messi was surprised that Frox already knew of him.
Messi launched into his usual introduction, beginning with the Forest Tribe. Frox's expression grew peculiar.
"The Forest Tribe...?"
Frox looked Messi up and down, then his gaze stopped at the ears.
"The Forest Tribe I know have black hair and black eyes, yes — but their ears are far more pointed..."
An unexpected turn. Messi did not panic. Instead, he turned the question around.
"Have you ever met a member of the Forest Tribe of direct royal blood, Sir Frox?"
"No... I have not."
"Then this would be the first time."
"I suppose it would. I take your meaning. My knowledge was lacking, and I have given offense — forgive me. How often does a human like myself get the chance to meet royalty of another race?"
Frox admitted the mistake without fuss.
"But Roan — why did you summon this man so suddenly?"
"Because he has what you need right now."
"What I need...?"
What Frox needed was someone who had completely mastered the language of ancient magic, was it not?
"Of course — humans are creatures of forgetfulness, so it's natural we'd lose it, but other races would be different! Does this man know Yagran?"
"That's right."
Only now did Frox seem to take a genuine interest in Messi. His manner shifted in an instant.
"Remarkable — truly magnificent! How have you preserved and passed down such an ancient tongue without ever forgetting it?!"
An excited Frox seized Messi's hands and shook them vigorously. Messi had to hastily prescribe something just to calm the man down.
"To be precise, I can interpret about ten percent. The rest would require inference."
"Ten percent? That's more than enough — more than enough!"
It had no effect. To a specialist in the restoration of practical magic, even ten percent was a high number. In the course of countless magical experiments, discrepancies always arose, which then had to be corrected, which produced errors, which then had to be corrected again. Things that had been perfectly sound at the outset often ended in worse shape than they had begun — absurd cases where the work had been more complete before the research ever started. Going from I know it all to I know ten percent was, in his experience, a perfectly acceptable outcome.
As Frox shook Messi in his excitement, Kkyu, who had been riding in his pocket, poked her head out, apparently dizzy.
"Ah — wait... isn't this a larva of a Ten-Thousand-Year Ant?!"
Suddenly the target shifted from Messi to Kkyu. Frox snatched the pocket that held her and lifted her before his eyes, examining her closely.
"Ohh, magnificent. A species that represents the Ancient Age, appearing right before my eyes... You're raising this?"
"...Something like that."
"As expected, royalty of another race really is on another level."
The moment he recognized Kkyu, Frox's trust in Messi seemed to shoot upward. To those in the know, Kkyu was that remarkable a species — a fact even Messi had not known.
Viscount Ahental asked his friend, looking rather bewildered.
"Wait... isn't that just a rather large caterpillar?"
"You fool! Ten-Thousand-Year Ants appear in the murals of ancient ruins. They're a species that has lived longer than our civilization!"
"Ah... is that so?"
He could not understand why that was so impressive. Wasn't it just a bug that had lived longer than they had? The viscount asked no further questions. Whatever the case, this was a joyful moment — the very thing he had so desperately wanted was happening at last.
Sir Messi and Frox have finally met.
Frox would stay close to Sir Messi in order to interpret the ancient magic, and Sir Messi would stay close to Frox in order to learn magic. The two were like puzzle pieces that needed each other.
Viscount Ahental found himself looking forward to the synergy they would create. In the distance of his mind, he even imagined a great magic tower rising in the empty lot the fire had left behind.
Dinner that evening ran long. They had been apart for quite some time, and to close that gap they talked without pause.
Frox brought up a disciple of his whose death notice had recently arrived. Viscount Ahental had met the young man as well, and they grieved together. Then the viscount spent a full thirty minutes on the story of Erena standing up. He still seemed unable to let go of the emotion of that moment. The two went back and forth, exchanging whatever came to hand.
Only when the moon hung high did the meal end, and everyone retired to their rooms. Messi, too, was about to turn in early, thinking of his dawn training with Grotein, when Frox caught him.
"Would you care to share a quiet cup of tea, just the two of us?"
There was no reason to refuse. Frox was someone who could interpret the materials Messi was curious about, and the finest card he had for learning magic. From Messi's position, this was a man he absolutely had to befriend.
The two of them sat in silence with warm tea before them. They seemed to be weighing where to begin.
Then, abruptly, Frox spoke first.
What he asked was neither a simple greeting, nor a probe into Messi's identity, nor anything concerning ancient magic.
It was a question Messi had never once anticipated.