The Dead Speak
The Mage's Tower was one of the rare buildings in this world that soared as high as twenty or thirty stories. Because of that, it wouldn't be wrong to say it was the tallest structure in the city.
It stood out so much that it was usually easy to find. Just not for me, apparently.
I could see the pointed building in the distance, but no matter which way I went, I kept hitting dead ends. It felt like being trapped in a maze.
Damn it.
I didn't want to admit I had no sense of direction, so I wandered alone until the sun was high overhead. Only then did I finally summon Undine to find the way to the tower.
It had been about two hours since I left the inn.
The inn clerk had said it would take fifteen minutes to reach the tower. That made this whole situation pretty ridiculous.
"Good work, Undine."
[It was nothing.]
Thanks to Undine, I finally stood before the circle marked with the six-pointed star that symbolized the Mage's Tower.
If Rai had been here, I wouldn't have gotten lost like this. Unfortunately, I'd left him with Einy.
Ash and his group were still asleep, and there was no one else to watch her.
Undine waved her tiny hand and disappeared. I waved back, then stepped into the wide-open first floor of the tower. The inside was much larger and cleaner than it looked from outside. Was this some kind of space-expansion magic?
"Welcome."
The place felt a bit like a post office to me. The upper floors probably weren't like this, but the public communication area definitely gave off that vibe.
"How can I help you?"
When I approached the front desk, the female clerk who had been scribbling something looked up. Her attitude was less than enthusiastic. The Mage's Tower was infamous for its terrible service.
"I'd like to use communication magic."
"For a telegram, fill out the form over there and bring it back. Payment is required upfront. If you're using the delivery service, make sure the address is accurate. You'll need to look up and write the code number yourself."
"I'd also like a video call."
"Have you checked the price?"
"How much is it?"
"Fifteen minutes costs this much."
Her tone suggested she was questioning whether I could actually afford it.
Following her finger to the price list posted on the desk, I had to admit it was shocking. There was one extra zero than I'd expected.
Two hundred silver, not twenty. That was two gold. A commoner's monthly living expenses were one gold. This really was the most expensive option.
"Expensive, right? No discounts. And if you use it for more than thirty minutes, there's an additional twenty percent charge."
"You don't haggle?"
"Any more than that would be too taxing on the mage. It puts a strain on the body."
Video communication required a mage to cast the spell one-on-one, and mages were the most expensive professionals on the continent.
"That's just the base fee. There's an extra charge depending on distance. Waiting time is calculated separately, and there are magic tax, city tax, and luxury tax on top of that."
"That's pricey."
"Right? Just use the telegram instead—"
"Not a problem. I've got plenty of money. Can you have it ready in ten minutes?"
After all, I was the woman whose coin purse contained nothing but gold coins.
Good thing I'd had Rai spit out a bunch this morning, just in case!
While waiting for the video call to Drike Academy to connect, I filled out the telegram forms.
There were five destinations: home, Iruse, Mia, Bright, and Teacher Iel.
I could have made a video call to my family too, but Crowell territory was so rural and underdeveloped that there was no Mage's Tower, nor even a dedicated mage who could receive communication magic.
The Crowell barony was a modest house with maybe five maids. Or was it fewer? Either way, the fact that there was no butler said it all about how small it was.
The telegram to my family was a bit long. The ones to my friends were short and to the point.
"To my friends. Me. J. Alive. Released. Returning. Really. J. Don't cry."
Telegrams were the cheapest form of communication magic available at the tower, similar to Morse code.
They could only be sent using a fixed set of words, and the more words, the higher the price.
I kept the messages to my friends short simply because I couldn't be bothered.
"Let's see, the address is..."
Sending to Teacher Iel was easy since I could just address it to the Spirit Division at the Dmitry royal palace.
Bright worked at the royal palace's Mage Tower, so that was straightforward too. Mia and Iruse were at the academy, so sending there would get the messages delivered.
Larger places had easy-to-find code numbers. The problem was home.
No matter how much I searched the directory, Crowell barony didn't appear. It was a tiny place, but it should at least have a mailbox. Strange.
Code numbers were usually assigned per village.
"Excuse me. I can't find one of the code numbers."
"Where is it? If it's too underdeveloped, it might not have one. The tower can't deliver that far."
The clerk waved her hand dismissively, as if this were common.
I'd never sent letters or telegrams home before, so for a moment I wondered if it really couldn't be sent.
That doubt vanished when I remembered the stack of letters in my academy dorm drawer.
"But it's a noble territory. Can it really not have one? Letters were sent there all the time."
"Really? If letters reach it, telegrams should too. Where did you say it was?"
"Crowell barony, in the Dmitry Kingdom."
"One moment."
The clerk disappeared into what looked like a records room behind the counter. A few minutes later, she returned flipping through a thick file, her expression positive.
"It's here. The address is the same, but the title has changed."
"The title?"
"It was updated recently. You were looking under barony, right? That's not it anymore."
The unexpected news made me uneasy. Surely the family hadn't gone bankrupt while I was gone.
What if they couldn't even afford my funeral...?
"Crowell barony has been promoted to county. Look here. Quite the leap, isn't it? I've been handling communications for two years, but this kind of thing is rare—oh my, it's right here!"
"Here?"
"Why, in Elan—"
"The video call is ready."
The red door beside the counter swung open, and a robed mage poked his tired face out. Since I was the only customer, he simply jerked his chin at me.
"It'll connect in one minute. Please come inside."
He looked to be in his late thirties and thoroughly exhausted with life. Clearly, he had no patience for waiting.
The clerk quickly took my stack of forms.
"You've filled out everything except this one, right? Give it here and go in. I'll finish it for you."
Whether it was because I'd already paid a fortune or because the mage was glaring, the clerk suddenly became quite helpful.
I was ushered into the communication room.
I had the distinct feeling I'd just missed something important.
The room was packed wall-to-wall with books. It was the dean's office at Drike Academy.
Peace reigned. Only the sound of turning pages and rolling pens filled the air.
Then someone knocked frantically on the door, shattering the quiet.
"Come in."
The dean, who had been buried in documents, looked up and set his pen down. His white hair and deep wrinkles spoke of his years.
The assistant who burst in looked anything but his usual calm self. He seemed frantic.
Even when the dining hall caught fire recently, he hadn't worn that expression.
"Dean! This is terrible—no, wait! That's not it! I mean, this is actually—"
"What on earth is wrong with you?"
"It's good news, but—"
"Speak clearly, will you?"
"There's no time! We need to go to the communication room right now. A call! We've received a call!"
The assistant looked completely out of it. He tried to drag the dean from behind his desk, but the behavior was so bizarre that the dean only stared in confusion and didn't move.
"A call? From whom? Is His Majesty summoning me urgently?"
"No. Jeanie Crowell."
The dean looked as if he'd been struck from behind.
"...Who?"
"From Miss Crowell...!"
The dean, who had been halfway pulled out, tripped over one of his own book stacks and went sprawling.
A loud crash of chairs and books echoed through the usually silent office.
The dean lay face-down on the floor, eyes wide as if he hadn't noticed his position.
"What are you saying?! How can a dead person—"
"She made the call!"
"Dead—"
"She's alive!"
Several papers fluttered off the desk in the commotion.
The dean had opened his eyes so wide in shock that his monocle fell off, dangling from its chain near his chin.
For a moment, nothing else moved.
"Hah!"
The dean sucked in a breath, and everything started moving again. The assistant looked ready to vomit as he blurted out:
"You need to go to the communication room! She's been waiting for ten minutes already!"
"You should have said that sooner, you fool!"
"I ran here as fast as I could the moment I heard!"
"Good heavens! What is this—"
It was a twenty-minute walk from the dean's office to the communication room at a normal pace, or five minutes if a young person ran.
In his urgency, the dean shoved his fallen monocle into his robes and hiked up the hem of his robe to his knees.
"This is no time for dawdling! Let's go! Quickly!"
The dean was the first to burst through the door. At his age, he still had that much energy, sprinting down the hallway in a manner completely unlike his usual swan-like dignity.
He only reached the communication room when he was completely out of breath.
When the academy's highest authority charged in like a battering ram, the young mage holding the communication orb jumped to his feet in alarm.
"Dean!"
"Jeanie! Where is Jeanie Crowell?"
The dean shoved the communication attendant aside and peered frantically into the orb. But there was nothing reflected in it.
Only a faint warmth remained as proof that a call had just taken place.
"She just ended it, saying you seemed busy and she'd call again later... She was the one who cut the connection!"
"Why didn't you say something earlier?!"
The young mage, terrified by the dean's fury, shrank into himself, practically tucking his neck into his collar.
"Well... I mean... A young woman I'd never seen before suddenly called and demanded to speak with you. There was no prior appointment, she wouldn't say what it was about, and her attitude was arrogant... Ahem. Filtering calls like that is my job."
"You don't know Jeanie Crowell?!"
"I'm sorry! I've never seen her face before!"
"This, this...!"
"She did say her name was Jeanie Crowell, but... I really thought she was joking. I was about to cut it off thinking it was a fake name when a senior passing by said... it was real."
The assistant rushed to support the dean, who looked ready to collapse while clutching the back of his neck.
The dean trembled with his aged body, making everyone around him anxious.
"Any... other message...?"
"She only said she'd call again tomorrow or the day after... I'm sorry. The call came so suddenly that we were all flustered. Ah! But we do know where the call came from!"
"Where?!"