Mage Marygold (1)

The strained relationship between knights and mages could be attributed to hundreds or thousands of reasons just within this empire alone.

But the most decisive cause was undoubtedly the Academy.

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"Don't they say there aren't many mages who enter the Academy and end up liking knights?"

As Baron Ivil Shen said, mages typically began building their disdain for knights upon enrolling in the Academy.

"They fight so much inside there. And it's always the mages who get picked on first."

"Yeah, we're pretty easy targets."

Right. Easy targets. It was bizarre. Mages as pushovers?

Of course, mages were rare talents by nature. They weren't common at all.

Even if their abilities varied wildly, the mere fact that they could wield magic earned them preferential treatment.

The problem was it still wasn't on par with knights.

'They can shoot fire from their hands? Freeze things solid? How can people this amazing be treated worse than knights who only know how to swing swords?'

It was natural for such doubts to arise, and Lancel had thought the same way before learning the truth. Why on earth?

There were three main reasons.

-First.

"As you know, Lancel, most mages are commoners to begin with."

"Yeah, that pretty much seals it."

Right.

The issue of status.

Magical talent didn't run in bloodlines, so in an empire where commoners made up the vast majority, it was almost inevitable that most mages came from their ranks.

Even if they later earned recognition and a baronetcy or barony, they couldn't escape being seen as rootless commoner stock. At least, not in the eyes of nobility-born knights.

-Second.

"Mages who are physically exceptional enough to shine in war are rare, too."

"It's a job that demands tons of study. They spend so much time at desks, they don't have time for exercise."

"Yeah, the mage I saw before had this huge gut sticking out. Pretty soon, rolling around'll be easier than walking."

Mages generally carried the image of scholars.

Too many of them fell short when it came to donning heavy armor, riding rugged warhorses, and charging across battlefields.

'That's why mages are...'

'How far did you run before you were gasping?'

'Tch, no muscle on 'em at all.'

Every time they heard knights' sneers, mages' faces flushed beet red, but what could they do?

The battlefield was a brutally unforgiving place for anyone who couldn't march or charge effectively.

Even knights who'd trained their whole lives ended up panting with sour breath after less than five minutes slogging through knee-deep mud.

How much worse for mages? A few steps, and their vision would already blur. For an empire forged through conquest and pillage, the scarcity of battlefield-hero mages was a big deal. They had no comeback to knights' taunts like, "So how many war heroes you got?"

-Third.

"Worst of all, most mages don't live up to the hype. Every time I see one, I think, 'Is that really a mage?'"

"Well, even if they can barely spark a candle flame, they're still mages. They just leak a bit of mana."

"Leak a lot, you mean. Way more than a bit, Lancel. I went through hell just to see that one guy's magic! And all he did was squirt water from a fan like a damn fountain. Unbelievable!"

"......Water, in a place with none......"

It stemmed from the huge gap in ability among mages.

It was true most were weaklings who'd crumple against street thugs. Exceptions like the Third Prince were rarities.

Hmm.

'In the end, though, knights throw the first punch.'

Right.

Whether status, physical prowess, or underwhelming magic, knights were always the ones to provoke first.

That was why apprentice mages, young and innocent upon entering the Academy, came to loathe them right away.

'Commoner!'

'Weakling!'

'Loser!'

Lancel could imagine the resentment building even from their perspective.

But now, there was one exception here.

"......I just hate knights."

Her head already brimming with loathing for knights, her face twisted in a sulky pout.

Sixteen-year-old Marygold, not even enrolled in the Academy yet.

"To be honest, I don't like you either."

"......"

That day, Lancel's world crumbled.

It wasn't like this was new—yesterday's news or anything—but in this loop, Lancel had wasted about a year before finally meeting Marygold.

Whenever he took the standard route to the capital, it was like he broke out in hives, so he always ran into her in unexpected places.

"Get ready, Lancel. We're going to watch."

"Huh? Watch what all of a sudden?"

"I told you this morning. Baron Jenis is showing something at the palace."

"I wasn't really listening."

"You're so honest, Lancel. I like that."

Lancel hadn't been keen, but he had no choice but to prepare to go out. Hestie, who'd been listening nearby, was buzzing with excitement and clearly wanted to tag along.

"Is this Mage Jenis the one they call 'Hot Wind Jenis'?"

"That's what they call him, yeah. You know the name?"

"Of course."

Lancel leaned back slightly from Hestie's eager advance, her eyes sparkling.

"I heard he makes things that fly in the sky."

"He fails every time."

"Still sounds cool. If humans can fly someday, even someone like me might ride one."

"Doubt it'll happen in your lifetime."

"Please don't crush my dreams like that, young master."

"Ah, sorry."

It was possible. If civilization advanced another step. Lancel thought so as he boarded the carriage.

A sunny field was already packed with nobles who had nothing better to do.

"Please step back if you're too close—you might get burned. No compensation if you complain about singed hair later."

Lancel met Marygold there.

Sixteen-year-old Marygold, sullen-faced and speaking in a voice devoid of courtesy, handing out fans one by one to the attending nobles.

"Are you... Baron Jenis's apprentice?"

Lancel spoke to her as he took a fan. He'd never imagined she'd chosen the path of a mage. Let alone as the disciple of a big shot like Baron Jenis.

"......"

Marygold stared at Lancel silently for a moment.

"Ahem."

A small cough. Then she averted her gaze and replied.

"Hot winds might blow in your face, so cover up with the fan. No compensation if your eyebrows burn off."

That was it.

Marygold spun on her heel and scurried off to another noble. Cold as ice.

"Please take your seats, everyone."

Soon, an elderly mage with snow-white hair shuffled out.

His aged body frail, but his eyes sharp and alive: Jenis.

"We'll begin the demonstration right away."

A massive object appeared in the palace field.

"Mary, show them."

"Yes, Master."

Marygold stood on tiptoes despite her short stature. She unveiled the cloth, revealing a miniature airship.

"Ooh."

"What's that thing?"

"Looks like a ship with a balloon attached."

Excited reactions erupted.

"What I'll show you esteemed guests today is an airship that flies using hot wind magic. Someday, over a hundred people will board this and soar through the skies."

"Without wings?"

"Precisely. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠If it catches your eye, I humbly request generous investments in my research. We'll launch it now."

Jenis approached the airship's side and quietly closed his eyes.

"Rise."

Mana subtly emanated from his entire body. The airship began slowly lifting into the air.

"It's flying!"

"Ooh!"

Marygold's smug little heh heh expression didn't last. Pop! The balloon burst. Flames surged around it.

"Master!"

"Oh no...!"

The airship, which had risen over ten meters, wobbled and plummeted. The whole frame was engulfed in fire in seconds.

"It's coming this way!"

"Run!"

Lancel scooped up Baron Ivil Shen and Hestie and dodged.

BOOM-!

The exploding, crashing airship sent hot air blasting outward like a shockwave. The venue descended into chaos in an instant.

"Kyaaah! My clothes!"

"My hair! My barely-there hair!"

"Agh! Hot!"

Jenis.

Marygold had become the disciple of that doddering old con artist grandpa, who'd later be called a quack.

Lancel felt his drowsiness vanish.

'Did I hit the Archmage Marygold route?'

Archmage Marygold was one of the major routes even among the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠standard paths.

Samurai Marygold, Knight Marygold, Ronin Marygold, Mercenary Captain Marygold, Combat Commander Marygold—she outshone nearly every combat class.

Truly one of the main routes.

Her peak was incomparable.

Archmage Marygold's power might be the greatest on this land, measured purely by might. No wonder they called her Archmage.

All previous Marygolds had zero magic talent, even if you searched with a magnifying glass.

But this loop was different. She'd entered a mage's tutelage. Proof of her talent.

Lancel was already satisfied just discovering that.

"I love magic, love it, love it!"

"Mary, you brat! That's no way to treat a guest."

"Ow!"

Marygold getting a solid flick on the forehead from Jenis.

"My disciple's still immature, so please forgive her, Sir Lancel."

"......"

-I just hate knights.

-I don't like you either.

Marygold's ruthless knight hatred. Lancel struggled to grasp his bewildered mind.

"Now go ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fetch some tea, you."

"Eek."

Marygold clutched her head and slunk away. Lancel wiped cold sweat and finally spoke.

"Still, you found a child with real magic talent. To be your disciple at her age, Baron Jenis—the Hot Wind Society's future looks bright."

Baron Jenis chuckled softly and replied.

"Mary is my disciple, but not because of any magic talent."

"Pardon?"

He stroked his beard and continued.

"She's more like a tagalong due to circumstances. She begged to learn magic, so I teach her a bit. But naturally, no talent means she can't even handle basics. Odd, right? Just think of it as my old-age hobby."

"......Ah."

You're doomed already, Marygold.