The 200,000 Rube Patron

The request in Balzac Territory had come to an end.

The men hired as guards departed with satisfied smiles, their purses pleasantly heavy with pay.

"Boss! I'll be heading off, then. Please give my regards to Miss ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sarah!"

"Right. Get home safe."

With his farewells done, Phillip headed back to his own village — his younger siblings, it seemed, were waiting for him at home.

"Uuugh. My whole body still aches."

Even with the request concluded, Luden couldn't leave Balzac right away. The wounds he'd taken fighting the Lich Criphe were still with him. Prompt treatment and healing bandages had mended everything visible, but the internal injuries had yet to recover — and he'd pushed himself hard enough on top of it all that his muscles had suffered, too. For the next few days, he would have to devote himself to nothing but recovery.

Still, it was a blessing things had ended this well. For a man who'd taken a Lich's magic head-on, he was in remarkably good shape. He owed it all to his skills and artifacts.

"Come to think of it, I never did check my rewards."

Thinking of it now, Luden promptly reviewed the rewards from this quest.

"Ghh. I was hoping for something that would patch my body up on the spot."

A little disappointed, Luden turned to inspect the skill. It was a Unique skill, after all — his expectations had been considerable.

"...And why is this only showing up now?"

For a moment, he was overcome. This was, by any measure, a mage's natural predator of a skill. If he'd had it during the battle with the Lich, he wouldn't have suffered half as much.

"Feels like closing the barn door after the horse has bolted. Well — useful is useful."

It reeked of deliberate spite, but what could he do? It was already behind him. And more to the point, one reward still remained — the spoils for felling the Lich Criphe.

"The Lich's laboratory?"

Luden regarded the key with mild surprise. The single-use limit marked it as a consumable, but the chance to set foot in a Lich's laboratory was no everyday opportunity. With any luck, he might come away with all manner of rare materials and knowledge pertaining to magic.

"Better to save this one for later."

He slipped the key into his inventory pocket and stretched out on the bed. Sarah was still out hunting and hadn't returned, leaving the room quiet.

Recovering my body comes first for now. After that, I go up to the capital and find that person.

His eyes closed, his thoughts trailing on, Luden's consciousness slowly sank beneath the surface of sleep — and moments later, a snore rang through the room.

A week after that, Luden and Sarah left Balzac Territory.

"Mmm. This is a problem."

"Why? Because it looks like we won't manage the debt payments this month either?"

"You brat! Who told you to bring up the debt?"

Bacel shot a glare at his disciple for volunteering the useless remark, but he soon let out a long sigh.

"As things stand, the research cannot continue."

"So you're finally giving up. As your disciple, I'm deeply grateful for everything you've endured."

"Why, you—!"

Bacel smacked the head of his disciple, who just had to spout nonsense.

"Ugh. I oppose violence."

"Want another?"

"...More to the point, what's wrong with the research? Has something happened?"

Bacel clicked his tongue at the transparent attempt to slip away, but he let it pass. There were more pressing matters.

"If the research is to continue, what we have on hand won't see us through. I'll need to source higher-grade magic stones as well."

"Ehh? But Master, we don't have a single coin to our name right now."

"Ghh."

The heart-stabbing remark made Bacel scowl.

Magic research devoured money. The catalysts and materials it required as a matter of course were ruinously expensive, and magic stones above all were severely limited in supply.

Back in the day, I'd never have been losing sleep over a problem like this.

There was a time when the magic tower Bacel belonged to had thrived well enough to rank among the top three in the Bedia Kingdom. Its funds had been plentiful, and it had kept several fine magic stones in storage. But that was all ancient history now. These days he was a man doing research in a gloomy semi-basement where even the light barely reached — a penniless wretch, no less, without the money to settle his immediate debts.

"Why not take up work instead, Master? With your skill, earning money shouldn't be difficult."

"Tch. Do I look that idle to you? I barely have time for the research as it is."

"And yet if no money comes in, the research can't continue either, can it? Even the nobles you had ties with have all cut their patronage."

"Hmph. Those men's eyes are full of knots, every one of them. To think they can't see the value of this research."

Bacel grumbled on, but he was hardly ignorant of his circumstances. Left as it was, he would lose not just the research but his very livelihood. And no ready solution presented itself. The capital the research consumed alone was beyond what an ordinary man could bear. True, Bacel could likely raise money if he went out and worked himself — but then the research would have to wait.

If we hit a snag at this stage, who knows how many more years it will take.

Complete the research, and every problem would be solved. Bacel was certain of it. His research was simply that extraordinary.

"Just wait. I'll think of a way."

"What way? Are you going to go borrow from someone again?"

"Ahem. 'Borrow'? Watch your tongue. We simply need to secure patronage from some wealthy noble or merchant, that's all."

"Haah. As if there's such a sucker out—"

Knock, knock.

"Is anyone home?"

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, accompanied by a voice calling out. Master and disciple went stiff-faced all at once.

"Was someone supposed to come today?"

"Probably someone sent by Mr. Charles? He did say he wouldn't stand for it if the debt wasn't paid by today."

"Ahem. Inform them I'm out on urgent business."

The disciple's eyes narrowed at the not-so-subtle attempt to flee, but at a second knock, he finally dragged his feet to the door.

"You were in, then. Pardon me, but is this the Vivre Magic Tower?"

"It is, but who might you be?"

He had opened the door expecting a debt collector — only to find a man he had never seen before. Had they sent someone new to squeeze out the payment? As the disciple warily sized him up, the dark-blond man spoke.

"My name is Luden. I've come because I would like to sponsor the Vivre Magic Tower."

"...I'm sorry?"

The disciple's eyes went round.

After half a month of travel, Luden and Sarah arrived at the royal capital, Rsen. Once through the checkpoint, the two of them asked around and made straight for the Vivre Magic Tower.

"Wow! There's all sorts of curious things here, yep!"

"Sarah. Don't go touching anything."

That said, Luden's own eyes kept wandering all the same. Including his previous life, this was his first time setting foot in a mage's workshop. It was narrower than he'd imagined, and there was a strange smell to it, but he couldn't call it uninteresting.

So this is the Vivre Magic Tower.

He had barely settled into his seat and begun surveying the room when an old man appeared.

"Ahem. I heard about you. You're the one who says he wishes to sponsor us?"

"That's right."

"Then forgive the late introduction. My name is Bacel Trivian, current head of the Vivre Magic Tower."

"I'm Luden Kaisar. The child over there taking in the sights is Sarah."

"A pleasure."

While the greetings were exchanged, the burly man who had shown them in brought out tea. It had barely steeped at all, and looked watery and pale.

"This is my disciple, Maron."

"Your... disciple?"

At the word disciple, Luden was briefly at a loss. Name aside — that hardened body belonged to a mage? He was no expert on the profession, but every mage he'd met in his mercenary days had been a gaunt, frail-looking creature.

"He assists me in any number of ways beyond the research."

For an instant Maron looked as though he had something to say, but at a glance from Bacel, he quietly shut his mouth.

"Luden. I want to go look at other places too, yep!"

"I don't mind — but in exchange, you behave yourself."

"No problem! Yep!"

At Luden's look, Maron nodded and led Sarah out. And with just the two of them remaining—

"So. How much will you be sponsoring us for?"

Bacel opened the conversation first, as if he'd been waiting for exactly this. Straight to business, no less. Most men would have been suspicious of a stranger offering patronage — yet Bacel's eyes held nothing but expectation.

Quite desperate, it seems.

Luden knew the Vivre Magic Tower's circumstances well enough, but things looked even worse than he'd imagined. In that case, how to proceed? Luden took a sip of his tea. Bland, as expected.

"Let me begin with this. What I wish to sponsor is not the Vivre Magic Tower, but the experiment you are currently ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pursuing, Master Bacel."

"...?! You. Don't tell me you know of it?"

At Luden's words, Bacel's eyes went round with surprise. He had released portions of his research materials to attract the nobles' support, but he'd never imagined a boy who looked as young as Luden would learn of it and come calling. And in the same breath, the expectation drained from his eyes. Had the boy come chasing tales of his past renown, he'd intended to humor him and squeeze out a fat donation — but with everything already known, he had no wish to waste his time. No doubt the boy had come for one of two reasons: he was either a naive fool who knew nothing, or an idiot come to mock him.

Tch. A waste of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time, then.

Bacel's expression turned cool.

"I am not an idle man. If you have something to say, I'd have you say it quickly."

"Understood. Then."

Even at the abrupt change, Luden didn't so much as blink. That the man wouldn't simply believe him was exactly what he'd expected. And so Luden drew from his coat the documents he had prepared in advance.

"A promissory note from the Brand Merchant Guild. To start, I'll give you 200,000 Rube."

"Wh-what?! T-two hundred thousand?"

Bacel was thunderstruck. Forgetting even his manners, he fixed his eyes on the note Luden handed over. It was genuine. It bore the true seal of the Brand Merchant Guild — no forgery — and it was unmistakably a draft that could be drawn for 200,000 Rube on the spot. Bacel swallowed hard. Then, in a trembling voice, he asked:

"You. This isn't some jest, is it?"

"I am entirely sincere. But if you cannot bring yourself to believe me, there's nothing to be done. I'll take my leave, then."

"What? N-no, wait ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just a moment. Who said I couldn't believe you?"

The moment Luden moved to take the note back, Bacel thrust out his hand. Luden allowed himself a faint smile. Truly, there was no surer way to prove one's sincerity than money.

Easy. Far too easy.

In the future he had left behind, there had been an incident that set the entire magical academy abuzz.

—Ancient artifacts from forgotten ruins

—New theories of magic

—The treatises of a great archmage

Closed-off as mage society was reputed to be, it was always those who practiced the art who reacted first and most keenly to every new discovery. Their thirst for knowledge was like a desert that no amount of water could satisfy. For that reason, the talk of mage circles rarely reached ordinary ears — and yet that incident was famous enough that even Luden, a complete stranger to magic at the time, knew of it.

It was neither an ancient legacy nor the spellbooks of a legendary archmage. It was merely a certain artifact newly invented by a single magic tower.

With pride, Bacel spoke the name of his magnificent life's work.