Chapter 21
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: School Ties
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“I’ve made up my mind!”
Galahad frowned at Gwen’s sudden shout.
“Private! Tom!”
“It’s nothing, go back to sleep.”
“Yes, sir!”
Tom was out like a light again. Gwen grabbed him and apologized, shaking him as she said she was sorry for waking him.
‘…She’s a menace.’
Galahad let out a small laugh.
“What exactly have you made up your mind about?”
“I’m going to become a very powerful mage.”
The fact that Gwen wanted to learn magic was good news. That was the whole reason he’d put her in the Special Task Force.
However—.
“‘A very powerful mage’ is a rather abstract goal. It’s better to have a clear objective.”
“…Oh? Really?”
“First, try setting a precise goal.”
Gwen, who had been blinking, suddenly pointed a finger.
Galahad narrowed his eyes at the calloused finger pointing at him.
“You want to become like me?”
“Yes! I want to become a powerful mage just like you, Sir Galahad!”
Gwen’s reply was booming. Tom shot up before sitting back down again.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why!”
“It’s a matter of temperament. I prefer fast and efficient methods. Clean ways of doing things, like blowing up heads or punching holes through hearts.”
“C-Clean ways?”
Gwen’s eyes widened.
“For that, your heart is much too kind.”
“Th…ank you?”
“That wasn’t a compliment. It means you can’t become an efficient mage like me. Could you put a hole through someone’s head?”
“Nooo!”
“I thought so. Someone as soft-hearted as you will have to use massive spells to completely annihilate your opponents, leaving no trace of their form.”
“...Whaaat?! Annihilate?!”
Tom, having given up on sleep, pulled over a piece of leather he had set aside. He then began to sew the leather with thick thread, looking as if he were making a coat.
“Remember this: to protect someone, you must be willing to kill someone.”
Galahad said, his voice devoid of laughter.
Tom nodded. The shape of a coat was beginning to form.
Just then, Damian woke up. Tom offered him a piece of meat he had kept nearby. Damian began to eat again.
“…I know that, too.”
Gwen hung her head low. Galahad didn’t press her.
He slid open a small window beside him, a hole made at Tom’s suggestion for smoking. The cold dawn air, slightly damp, drifted in.
The view beyond was the same as ever. Long, dry trees and white snow between them—. *I’ll die of boredom.* Galahad grumbled quietly.
“…Then! I’ll become a mage who only beats the bad guys to a pulp!”
“A pulp, you say. For someone with such an innocent face, you have a cruel streak.”
“Whaat?! No—.”
“So, you want to learn magic?”
“Yes!”
Gwen nodded, her face like that of a squire beside a knight.
“You have a great deal of talent as a mage. Your massive mana pool and exceptional mana sensitivity are enough to be called a genius.”
“Hehe.”
Gwen scratched the back of her head and smiled shyly. She seemed susceptible to praise.
“Alright, let’s start with something simple. This is just a flame. A very simple 1st Tier spell. Follow me.”
Gwen’s eyes glazed over slightly. Then, a flame identical to his appeared on her fingertip.
‘Incredible.’
Galahad was genuinely impressed. It wasn’t easy to imitate something just by seeing it.
‘A true genius.’
Aside from that one fellow at the Twilight Magic Tower, this was the first genius Galahad had ever acknowledged.
“Now, the next step is to focus on that flame. Try to compress the mana, as if you’re pressing down on it.”
“Compress?”
“Think of it as pressing down hard.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. She focused so hard her finger trembled, but surprisingly, nothing happened.
“I don’t really get it.”
“Try thinking of pressing down hard. Imagine there’s an invisible muscle, and you’re pulling it.”
“I don’t have any invisible muscles, so I wouldn’t know!”
“…If that doesn’t work, try bending your finger for now.”
Although Galahad utterly despised using physical motion to compress mana, he had no choice since she couldn’t grasp the concept at all.
The problem was, even that didn’t work.
When one cast a spell, one couldn’t help but feel the mana. And once you felt the mana, most people quickly understood the principle of compression.
To fail at something so basic—.
‘Ah.’
Looking at her innocent eyes, Galahad let out a small sigh.
“There’s one problem.”
“A problem?”
“You’re stupid.”
“…What?”
“You’re stupid.”
“I know!”
Gwen nodded. She was quick to admit it.
“So is that a problem?”
Galahad shook his head at her question of why being stupid was a problem. It wasn’t really an issue.
“I see. There’s no need for you to pursue the truths of magic. Just watch my spells and copy them.”
“Oh! Yes! That’s a relief!”
Galahad lit a flame again. A flame appeared on Gwen’s finger.
“Now try it on your own.”
Gwen looked down at her own finger. She furrowed her brow in concentration, but sadly, there was no reaction.
“You did it just fine on your own against the demons, didn’t you?”
“That was because I was in a rush—. I don’t really know how to do it now.”
He could guess the reason. It seemed to be a subconscious resistance to magic.
The way to overcome this was simple.
Repetitive learning.
There was no problem that couldn’t be solved with it.
“Alright, focus.”
A flame ignited on Galahad’s finger. A flame appeared on Gwen’s finger as well. It grew smaller. Hers followed suit.
“Good, you did well. Then, again—.”
The flame lit up. It shrank, then grew. It went out.
“You did well this time, too. Now, again—.”
“Again—.”
“Again.”
Even after repeating it quite a few times, Gwen didn’t complain and followed along readily.
How many times had they repeated it?
By the time Tom had finished the coat and Damian had patted his stomach and closed his eyes again—.
“Ignite! Flame! It… it worked!! It worked!”
A flame ignited on Gwen’s finger.
‘So it takes about forty repetitions to sink in.’
Compared to the time it would take to learn mana, memorize the principles and incantations of a spell, and analyze its density before finally learning to cast it—.
‘It’s overwhelmingly fast.’
The speed was incomparable.
“Good.”
Gwen wore a strange smile.
She looked like the child of a gambler who, after a lifetime of suffering due to their parents’ habits, had just realized they possessed a natural gift for gambling.
“It’s fine. You just have to win back what your parents lost.”
“…What?”
“Alright, next up is the 4th Tier spell, Explosive Crater.”
“But we were just doing the 1st Tier! Isn’t that too big of a jump?!”
“It’s fine. You don’t understand the principles anyway, do you? It’s more beneficial to learn higher-tier magic.”
After a moment of thought, Gwen nodded.
Gilberton glanced at Damian, who had come to the driver’s seat.
The two traveled in silence for a long time.
****
“The battalions of the Northern Front each have their own base.”
Gilberton said, pointing ahead. There, soldiers were gathered in small groups, warming themselves by a fire. It looked like a checkpoint.
“Like nobles.”
“Yes, it’s similar. Their power is likely stronger than that of the nobility. It’s the military, after all.”
“So the term ‘duchy’ didn’t come from nowhere.”
White snow had piled up on his shoulders. *To think it would snow this much just because we’re in the North—.* Galahad muttered quietly, brushing off his shoulders.
“Halt!”
A soldier shouted, looking their way. They all drew their spears in unison.
“The commander of the 5th Battalion is in a bit of an awkward position among the other commanders.”
“He’s being ostracized?”
“Yes. His methods were always different, but recently, rumors have been spreading that he’s training mages, and he’s being shunned for it.”
Just then, the soldiers approached them.
The tips of the spears they held were quite large, shaped like harpoons used for whaling.
“Identify yourselves.”
A soldier brought the spear toward Galahad as if it were a microphone.
“I am Galahad, commander of the Special Task Force.”
The soldier furrowed his thick eyebrows.
“Special Task Force? Ever heard of it?”
“Nope, first time.”
The soldiers’ conversation took an unexpected turn.
“Show us your identification plaque.”
At the soldier’s demand, Galahad glanced at Gilberton. *I never received anything like an identification plaque.*
“The identification plaques are made using monster bones, so their production takes time.”
It wasn’t incomprehensible. Even the capital was slow with its paperwork; how much worse would it be in the North?
“For now, show them your plaque. You still have your 1st Battalion one, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
“Why not? You were in the 1st Battalion until just recently.”
“Because I’m not in the 1st Battalion anymore.”
“You’re surprisingly honest. What were you going to do if we were stopped at a checkpoint?”
“The 1st Battalion doesn’t get stopped at checkpoints.”
“But you’re not in the 1st Battalion now.”
“Identification plaque!”
The soldier shouted. Galahad clicked his tongue softly and rummaged through his inner pocket.
“Here, this is an appointment letter from His Grace, the Grand Duke.”
Galahad took out the aforementioned letter. It was the same document that had worked at the commanders’ meeting.
The problem was—.
“I can’t read!”
“Me neither!”
“Showing us writing? How suspicious!”
The soldiers were illiterate.
The atmosphere instantly turned hostile, all because he had shown them writing. *How on earth do they read the identification plaques?*
Gilberton grabbed the hilt of his sword.
“It should be fine to just beat them up and go through. We have an appointment with their commander, don’t we?”
Just as Gilberton was proposing a Northern-style negotiation, the carriage door swung open.
“Ah, I made some temporary identification plaques, just in case.”
Tom held out a crude wooden plaque. After checking it, the soldiers let them pass. It seemed they only confirmed the insignia on the plaque.
“Tom, you are truly competent.”
“Haha, your words are thanks enough.”
Tom smiled awkwardly as he put the wooden plaque away. Seeing his humble demeanor, Galahad stared at Gilberton.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“…It’s nothing.”
At Gilberton’s surly question, Galahad discreetly looked away.
The 5th Battalion’s base was larger than expected. A long palisade of thick logs had been erected, and the path between them was dotted with sharp wooden barricades.
The barricades were caked with rotting flesh of unidentifiable shapes. A soft layer of snow on top gave it a rather scenic look.
The palisade was thicker and taller than it had appeared from a distance, almost feeling like a castle wall. There were even crossbows positioned in between.
As they entered, a musty smell greeted them.
‘This is a real army.’
Galahad put a cigarette to his lips. The scent of lemon pushed back the musty odor.
“The unit is in better shape than I expected.”
“You consider this good?”
“Yes. The soldiers’ health seems decent, and their equipment is good. The 5th Battalion’s finances must be better than I thought.”
Hearing that, he looked around and noticed it was subtly different from the command headquarters. The soldiers were clean—by Northern standards, of course.
Furthermore, there were quite a few people dressed in Imperial fashion. Among them were some who looked like merchants, and a soldier was tending to a cart.
‘It feels like being on the border between the Empire and the North.’
In a way, it was more lively than the command headquarters. The scent of magic lingered here and there.
Just then, a young woman greeted Galahad. He had seen her at the meeting hall.
“I am Lumian, aide to Commander Mark of the 5th Battalion.”
The woman led Galahad to a large building situated among the barracks. The security was tight.
Out of habit, Galahad took note of the structure and the deployment of personnel. It was an occupational hazard.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
“Come in.”
Lumian opened the door and stepped aside.
Mark, the commander of the 5th Battalion, was a man with a weary look etched all over his face. Upon seeing Galahad, Mark stood up from his seat and extended his hand.
“You’re here even earlier than I expected. Did you find something?”
After a brief greeting, Mark immediately posed a question.
“Why do you think that?”
“Adrianna is a stickler for rules. She would have inspected every watchtower before finishing, but the time is too short for that. Unless, for instance, you discovered something and captured the culprit to close the case, there’s no reason you would arrive this quickly.”
He was a man whose mind worked faster than expected. Perhaps because of that, he spoke quickly as well.
“You’re right. On the way here, I caught one mid-rank demon, two mages, and sixteen ground-pups. I was delayed because Adrianna was late.”
Mark narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to discern the truth in his words.
“You have no reason to lie, so it must be true.”
Mark was surprisingly quick to believe him.
“There’s a reason His Grace the Grand Duke entrusted you with a unit. Hmm—.”
Mark tapped his fingers on the table.
“Are you planning to set up your headquarters in my battalion’s base?”
The subject changed again.
“It’s located between Adrianna’s 1st Battalion and the command headquarters, so the location is suitable. Isn’t that why you visited right away? Of course, that might be a bit of a leap—.”
Galahad nodded obediently.
“I see. Providing a place isn’t a difficult matter, but there are a few problems.”
*Knock, knock.*
The door opened with the knock. It was a figure in a robe, a man with a goatee.
He had no weapon, which meant he wasn’t a soldier.
“Perfect timing. This is our unit’s external advisor, Korton.”
Mark said, the corners of his lips lifting in a greeting.
The goateed man named Korton smiled like a merchant and extended his hand.
“A pleasure.”
Galahad shook his hand, habitually channeling a bit of mana into it.
‘His mana is considerable—.’
It was a classic sign of the Black Magic Society. Those bastards would stop at nothing to increase their mana, so they often had large reserves.
“If you have a guest, I can come back later.”
“Not at all. This is Commander Galahad, the one you were curious about.”
Korton sat in a seat close to Mark.
‘Things are getting interesting.’
Catching a black mage wasn’t that difficult. You just had to locate their residence, put a hole in their head, and file a report. Problem solved.
Galahad had expected this case to be resolved in the same way.
But events were unfolding differently.
“Korton is a very gracious person who has been helping improve the harsh conditions of the 5th Battalion.”
Mark introduced the bald man, his voice quite warm.
‘So that must be the problem Mark mentioned.’
The two of them seemed to be on rather good terms.
He was probably saying it would be difficult to accept another mage when one was already established here.
“Are you, by any chance, *that* Galahad?”
Korton’s eyes widened as he spoke. A disagreeable flush appeared on his face.
‘*That* Galahad—.’
It had been a while since he’d heard that moniker.
“I am *that* Galahad.”
“*That* Galahad?”
“Ah, he is famous among mages for graduating from the capital’s Academy as the youngest valedictorian.”
Korton said, his voice thick with sincerity. Mark’s eyes widened slightly more.
“You’re from the Academy?”
“Yes, in fact, I saw him at the Academy.”
“Is that so?”
The man’s reaction was a bit strange. It felt like he was somehow displeased.
“Yes. He entered when I was in my final year and graduated before I did.”
“Were you in your final year for four years?”
It had taken Galahad exactly three years to get from admission to graduation at the Academy. That meant this man must have spent at least four years in his final year.
The man’s crumpled face told Galahad his guess was correct.
“That’s how long it usually takes for most people.”
The man’s eyes turned hostile.
‘An inferiority complex.’
It was a look Galahad was familiar with.
It had followed him ever since he entered the Academy at the youngest age.
Men with that look in their eyes always had something to spill if you prodded them.
“I was only in my final year for half a year, so I wouldn’t know about that. My apologies.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. Galahad raised the corners of his mouth.
“Ah, or did it perhaps take you longer than four years?”
That seemed to be the final straw, as the man’s face turned bright red.
“I didn’t realize you were so famous, Sir Galahad. There must be a reason the Empire sent you.”
Mark chimed in with a peculiar look in his eyes. He seemed to be calculating something.
*Who would be more beneficial to me?* He was a clever man.
Mark’s praise immediately set off a reaction.
“What does it matter when someone graduated? What matters is what they did after. I heard no stories about *that* Galahad after graduation. What on earth have you been doing?”
The fact that no stories had been heard was proof of what an excellent agent Galahad was.
To be praised to his face—. Galahad idly scratched his cheek and replied.
“I’ve been living a busy life with this and that.”
“Oho, you’ve been busy.”
Mark chimed in again. At that, Korton let out a sneer.
“Ah, I did hear the news. You managed to survive, I see.”
Anyone who heard the rumor about marrying the Count’s third son to the Grand Duke’s eldest daughter would naturally have that kind of reaction.
They would think he was being sent to his death for the sake of appearances.
Given that the Grand Duke had originally planned to lock Galahad in the dungeon, it wasn’t an entirely incorrect assumption.
“Korton, what’s gotten into you?”
“I’m just so pleased to see an Academy schoolmate here.”
At Mark’s intervention, the man grinned. Mark seemed to be playing the part of the mediating sister-in-law.
“I’m also pleased to see a schoolmate in this remote North.”
At Galahad’s meaningful reply, the man ground his teeth.
“Unlike you, I came here on business. To me, the North is a land of opportunity.”
“Oh, doing business in the North, a barren land for magic—. How impressive.”
At Galahad’s voice, the man’s eyebrows furrowed even more.
“Ha! I’ve recently discovered three mana stone mines alone. You of all people should know their value.”
With just a slight push, the man, unable to overcome his inferiority complex, started blabbering.
He was a man who had even joined the Black Magic Society. Among mages, he was a twisted one, so such an intense reaction wasn't surprising.
“It’s a joint venture with Commander Mark. It would be great if you could join us, but—. You’re such a capable man, aren’t you? You couldn’t possibly work under an underachiever like me. What a shame!”
The man sneered.
‘Underachiever, huh.’
He might have said that before. He had been quite sensitive during his Academy days.
“The pride of the Academy, who graduated at the youngest age, our great Sir Galahad wouldn’t possibly work under an underachiever like me. Am I right?”
The man said, extending his hand. His eyes were certain that Galahad would not accept the offer.
It was a clear taunt from the man.
His eyes met Mark’s. Those intensely calculating eyes seemed to ask: *Which of the two will be more beneficial to me?*
Galahad grinned.
“Excellent. This is what it means to be alumni.”
As he quickly took the offered hand, the man’s eyes widened as if they would tear.
Mark raised the corners of his mouth slightly, as if he had just witnessed something amusing.
Belatedly, Korton tried to pull his hand away, but Galahad wouldn’t let go.
Three mana stone mines—. A single one could earn as much as the lord of a decent-sized castle.
It wasn’t just about the money. With a lot of mana stones, teaching Gwen would also become much easier. If her mana ran low, she could just use a mana stone.
Moreover, with mana stones, he could add various options when constructing the Special Task Force headquarters.
In other words—.
“So, where should I report for work?”
It was a gold mine.
To think he would offer three mana stone mines—.
School ties were so important, after all.