The Northern Administrator (1)
“Hey! Not like that! Get your timing together!”
“Hah! You’re the one who needs to match me! Yours truly did it flawlessly!”
Two days had passed since their earnest magical training began, yet Ifrit and Eron had failed to cast a single spell successfully.
How in the world did I even manage to use magic back then?
Eron was beginning to doubt whether he had ever actually cast a spell in the first place.
“Come on, just meet me halfway!”
“I am a spirit, you know! You’re the one messing up!”
“What does being a spirit have to do with anything?! Timing is something we coordinate togeth—gah!”
A sharp thwack cracked across his skull, sending a jolt of throbbing pain through his temples.
“M-Master?”
“Quiet down. Stop squabbling and focus. In that state, you couldn’t pull off a cantrip even if your life depended on it.”
“…Understood!”
“Ehehe~ Look who got scolded~!”
Delighted to see Eron reprimanded, Ifrit began teasing him without mercy. She fluttered in nimble circles around his head, dancing through the air as she chanted gloating taunts over and over.
I swear, one of these days…! Eron swallowed down his simmering rage.
“Eron?”
“Yes, Master?”
“You have my permission to flick her forehead.”
“Yes! Thank you, Master!”
Naturally, Merna could not see Ifrit. But after several days of observing them, she had no trouble deducing what was transpiring.
“Huh? What’s with that look—?”
Snap!
“Ow! What was that for?!”
“Punishment.”
“Why do I have to be pun—”
“Because Master can’t hit you herself.”
Thud!
Merna drove the butt of her staff firmly into the dirt, snapping their attention back to her.
“Eron?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“You are the one who must keep your center. What good comes from bickering alongside her?”
“I’m sorry.”
She was entirely right. Spending the past few days with Ifrit had somehow dragged his mental age down with hers. Sinking into petty squabbles with someone who acted like an unruly toddler was foolish. Eron reined in his frustration, taking a moment to reflect on his behavior.
“Recall the sensation when you cast magic before. It will be much simpler then.”
When I cast magic before… Back then, possessing zero knowledge, he had simply surrendered himself to whatever Ifrit did. Yet doing what she told him just now had yielded nothing. What was the difference?
“What’s the hold up? Aren't we doing magic?”
“Hold on, I’m thinking. Give me a second.”
“Just place your trust in this great me and follow along! That's all you have to do!”
“How am I supposed to trust—”
Wait. Could that be the problem? Back then, knowing nothing at all, he had placed absolute, unconditional faith in Ifrit. But today, frankly, he hadn't trusted her in the slightest. I have to trust her. We're partners, after all.
Eron adjusted his mindset and resolved to place genuine faith in Ifrit once more.
“Ifrit?”
“What? Ready now?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh? What for? What’s with you all of a sudden?”
“Come on. Let’s try it.”
Baffled by the sudden apology, Ifrit scrambled to channel her mana in a daze.
I have a feeling it’ll work this time.
His instinct proved dead accurate. The surge of mana flowing into his body and coursing toward his fingertips felt fundamentally different from their earlier attempts. Furthermore, unlike his first time when he had operated in complete ignorance, he now possessed a foundation of magical theory. He could vividly perceive the currents of mana and the precise mechanics of the spell igniting.
If I guide the mana slightly more like this… and sharpen the mental image just a bit…
“It’s ready! Here it comes, Eron!!”
It was likely the first time she had ever addressed him by name since they met. Caught up in her own excitement, she seemed not to have noticed, but a quiet warmth settled in Eron's chest.
Upon Ifrit’s cue, a towering pillar of flame roared into the sky. It erupted far larger, fiercer, and more magnificent than the blaze back in the forest.
Watching the roaring inferno, Merna felt her conviction solidify. Eron would one day become an Archmage who surpassed even her. It was not merely because he could command the power of spirits. Drawing upon the theoretical knowledge he had just acquired, Eron had refined his previous spell into an even higher tier of magic. His genius extended far beyond conversing with spirits.
Merna watched her disciple with a broad, satisfied grin as she revised her curriculum—unfortunately for Eron, into something far more merciless and grueling.
Felix Linda.
Thirteenth head of House Linda—one of the empire's 4 Great Supreme Noble Families—and the current Administrator of the North. At this very moment, he was suffering from relentless headaches and acute gastritis.
As the Administrator of the North, he wielded authority matched by only a handful of individuals in the entire empire. He was hardly in a position where a single person could drive him to the brink of a nervous breakdown. Perhaps the only living soul in this realm who could subject him to such distress was the Emperor himself.
And yet, Felix was teetering on the edge of madness because of a single mage.
The architect of his torment was Merna Wintreia. The female Archmage widely renowned across the continent as the Wandering Sage.
Was Felix suffering simply because she was an Archmage? An Archmage was certainly an entity he could never treat lightly. But did that mean he had to grovel before one? By no means. He was fully capable of conversing with an Archmage on equal footing.
Why, then, was he enduring such crushing stress? Two primary reasons came to mind.
First: She was no ordinary Archmage.
The Magic Tower, the supreme institution to which most mages belonged, classified spellcasters into five tiers based on ability: Archmage, Class 1, Class 2, Class 3, and Standard.
Occupying the pinnacle tier, an Archmage possessed destructive power beyond normal human comprehension. Yet even among Archmages, the disparity in strength was staggering. If anything, the gulf between them was far more pronounced than between any of the lower ranks. Thus, the Ranked Seats were established. Based on combat prowess, theoretical mastery, achievements, and continental influence, the absolute elite among Archmages were assigned numbered Seats.
The might of an Archmage holding a Ranked Seat transcended mortal imagination. This reality had been brutally driven home to the continent twenty years ago during an infamous incident: a lone Archmage had single-handedly obliterated five Archmages simultaneously.
The peerless caster who had wiped the floor with five peers was none other than the Archmage of the 2nd Seat, Merna Wintreia.
That was the first reason Felix was drowning in agony.
The second reason: Her very nature.
Had it been any other Ranked Archmage, Felix would never have worried to this extent. It would merely be a matter of catering to their pride with diplomatic tact. But Merna was different. She was the madwoman who had crushed the Archmages of two warring nations at the same time simply because the battlefield commotion was annoying her.
Countless other anecdotes spoke of her unpredictable whims dictating catastrophic actions. With such a walking calamity entering his domain, how could his stomach lining possibly survive?
Report: The Archmage was confirmed departing the city this morning. Projected arrival at House Hynek within three days.
The greater problem was that Merna was heading straight toward House Hynek. For reasons unknown, she had intercepted a request dispatched by House Hynek and was personally traveling there.
Of all places, she had to go where that fool resides…
Anyone in Felix's position would have shared the exact same dread. Jaylon Hynek. A man who was utterly incompetent in magic, yet bloated with boundless vanity. Worse still, his overbearing pride had sparked no small number of political headaches—a thoroughly detestable wretch.
Merna and Jaylon. To Felix, it was an unmitigated recipe for disaster.
Still, Jaylon was technically a noble. Even an idiot like him would surely show proper deference before an Archmage. Yet Felix could not shake the gnawing premonition that something catastrophic was about to blow up.
What should he do? Should he send a prior warning? Or at least notify Jaylon that Merna was the 2nd Seat Archmage?
Issuing an advance warning risked backfiring given Jaylon's prickly insecurity. What about informing him of her Ranked Seat? Jaylon had surely received word that an Archmage was en route, but he likely had no idea she held a Ranked Seat.
Merna belonged to no empire or guild; she wandered entirely alone. Consequently, her true name was not widely circulated among provincial nobles, who knew her only by epithets like the Wandering Sage or the Witch of the East Forest. It was very likely Jaylon would fail to realize who she truly was. Yet if told she held a Ranked Seat, would that fool end up spouting some absurd nonsense instead?
“Urgh…! Gah!”
Throbbing agony pulsed behind his temples after the prolonged anguish. Felix grabbed a bottle and swallowed a handful of medicine.
Better to keep silent. Knowing she was an Archmage should be enough. Having arrived at that conclusion, Felix offered a prayer to the gods for the first time in years: Please, let that wretched man possess at least an ounce of common sense.
Report: An intense blast of flame magic erupted near House Hynek, but no critical casualties occurred. Merna is believed to have departed the estate.
“I'm saved!!”
She remained within the Northern territory, but one colossal hurdle had been cleared. Felix's appraisal of Jaylon rose by a fraction: It seems the man possessed at least some shred of sense and discretion after all.
Supplementary Report: Upon leaving House Hynek, Merna has been traveling in the company of a young boy.
“????”
The moment the report reached him, Felix hauled out the medicines he had just tucked back into his desk drawer.
A young boy? Who could that possibly be? Surely she didn't have those kinds of inclinations? No, that was completely out of the question. Traveling with a boy right out of House Hynek?
Could she have taken a child of House Hynek as her disciple?
The thought flickered in his mind for a second before he violently discarded it. There was no conceivable way Merna would accept Jaylon's offspring as an apprentice. The brat took after his father and was notoriously insolent. It was far more plausible that the kid had acted out and enraged Merna.
“Wait…”
Could that actually be it? The more he pondered it, the more plausible it seemed. Dragging along an insolent brat who had offended her and marching straight toward the Administrator's Castle—now that sounded like Merna.
Just how cruel and merciless a demand is she about to drop on my desk…?
Imagining the horrifying ultimatums Merna might impose regarding the child, Felix choked down another dose of medicine.
Report: The child appears to be in good health. No signs of mistreatment. If anything, she seems to be treating him with remarkable care.
What in the world was going on?
Judging by the boy's condition, Felix's theory crumbled. Come to think of it, for someone who adamantly preferred solitary travel, dragging an offender along just because he angered her made little sense. Had she taken offense, she would have obliterated him on the spot rather than haul him across the territory.
An apprentice after all?
No. Absolutely not. Merna had rejected overtures from imperial kin, foreign royalty, and prodigies hailed as generational geniuses. There was simply no way. Unless the child possessed talent dazzling enough to upend Merna's lifelong principles—and Felix could never imagine House Hynek producing such a prodigy.
Was it truly that sort of taste then? No, the boy's appearance wasn't particularly extraordinary either. Or did her preferences lean in that direction as well?
Felix clutched his head over a puzzle that yielded no answers.
Urgent Report: Merna is projected to arrive at the Administrator's Castle in three days.
Phew… What will come has finally come.
Faced with the urgent dispatch, Felix ironically regained his calm and composure. He was, after all, the Administrator of the North—a position rivaling royalty in stature. He possessed the seasoned grit and political fortitude befitting his station.
Felix swiftly summoned every official and retainer within the fortress.
“There must not be the slightest mistake!”
Those were the very first words out of his mouth to the assembled gathering. Never before had Felix spoken with such severe gravity, and the collective focus and resolve of the assembly skyrocketed in an instant.
“This is the portrait of the Archmage arriving in three days. Burn her visage into your minds!”
Felix deliberately withheld the fact that she held a Ranked Seat. He had no wish to sow paralyzing panic among the staff. Aside from the castle gatekeepers and his personal retinue, that much would suffice.
“Tomorrow is a day of utmost gravity. I am counting on all of you!”
Why was it so vital? What kind of terrifying figure was this Archmage? He offered no explanation. Yet to those gathered, no explanation was necessary. Felix Linda himself had asked them for their absolute best. What more needed to be said?
Preparations proceeded at breakneck speed.
With every conceivable arrangement completed to perfection, everything now hinged on Merna's motive for visiting the fortress. What would happen, and how should he respond?
Alongside his stomach medicine, Felix tossed several sleeping pills down his throat. It was the only choice he had if he wanted even a moment of rest before the storm arrived.