Decrypting the Code (1)

The most lavish, opulent mansion in all of Baran City — so the saying went, anyway. Mark Sweet, master of that gilded estate, sliced into his steak and asked.

"From where, and who, exactly?"

"Kilian Lockwood and Oscar Crucian, both of the White Magic Tower."

The shameless wretches who had laid his beloved only daughter — a daughter he treasured more than his own eyes — low in her sickbed. Having gotten a full read on their backgrounds, Mark waved the knife in his hand this way and that.

"Find out where they are and what they're doing right now. Report back to me."

"Understood, my lord."

Marin Maria had already left the city, and it was far too late ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to do anything about her. Killing a singer scheduled to perform before His Majesty the Emperor at the New Year's celebration would have been crossing a line.

But level 3 and 4 mages of the White Tower — the weakest of the Four Great Towers? That's nothing.

Anywhere else might have been a different story, but not this city. In Baran, where Mark Sweet was as good as king, snuffing out a pair of second-rate mages wouldn't cause a ripple of trouble.

"How are the Hoovers faring?"

"They're busily gathering mercenaries, but there's no one skilled enough to concern you."

"Hmph. If they lost, they ought to know to bow out cleanly. What a persistent family."

"You speak truly, my lord."

The Hoover family was the house of Mayor Buzz, who had led Baran City for the past two years. Until a few months ago, they'd been called the foremost family in the city — but no longer. After the mayor was murdered, the Sweets had seized that position as if they'd been waiting for the chance all along.

Mark took a sip of wine and said, "Forget everything else — the classified materials he left behind must be retrieved. No exceptions."

"We understand."

"Tch. When did he even find the time to put together something like that?"

If those documents ever got out, it would become a massive obstacle on his path to the mayor's seat. Fortunately, they were sealed behind a powerful encryption spell, one that even the Hoover family had spent months failing to break. Which was, of course, precisely how the Sweets had caught wind of the corrupt documents' existence in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first place.

"Two days from now. Everything will be ready, yes?"

"Of course."

In two days, Baran's night was due to grow especially loud. Countless fireworks were scheduled to embroider the night sky.

"No one will hear a single gunshot or the clash of blades over all that."

Scritch. Scritch.

Mark's hand tightened around the knife as he carved into his steak.

After no small amount of hassle, they finally finished returning the gifts(?) and made their way back — by then, it was late into the night.

"...I still don't know where I went wrong."

Kilian looked utterly deflated as they stepped into the back alley. Not because he'd returned all those expensive gifts, but because of the sorrow of having failed to make a single new friend. Perhaps it was self-reproach over why his social skills were so hopeless.

Pat, pat. Oscar gave his shoulder a couple of consoling thumps.

"Cheer up. What kind of brave warrior of the forest mopes over something this small? It happens all the time when you come to the city."

Given time, everyone eventually finds their own way of dealing with things. His own father had, after all. At first, when the man kept pestering him with question after question, it had been unbearably annoying — but looking back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after the years had passed, it had all become fond memory.

"...Is that so?"

"That's how it is."

Kilian's expression brightened considerably.

"In exchange, next time you praise someone, try smiling a little while you do it."

"Smiling?"

"Yes. The person listening has to clearly feel — ah, this person is praising me right now."

"Smile... smile... I will engrave it upon my heart."

The man bobbed his head vigorously, then asked, "So do we return to the White Tower now?"

"Why? If I said no, would you drag me back by force?"

"No. I already reported on that matter. I said you were more capable than I, so there would be no need for concern."

Thank goodness. In truth, the original objective — finding Edna — hadn't even gotten off the ground yet.

"I have some business of my own, so I'm planning to visit the Blood Tower's Baran branch."

"Is there someone you seek?"

"Yeah, and since it sounds like the results will take a while, I figured I'd do some shopping while I wait."

"Equipment or elixirs, I take it."

"Well... something like that."

Equipment. The word brought Trinity to mind — the weapon that had melted away in this latest battle. The faithful old gun that had reliably papered over a beginner mage's feeble single strike.

With that gone, I'd have to admit my combat strength has taken a real hit.

Which left exactly two choices on the table right now: buy a weapon to shore up his lacking firepower, or buy elixirs to pursue steady, reliable growth.

Strictly speaking, my mana is already more than sufficient as it is.

Between the elixirs little Oscar had swallowed and the inner core of the White Heavenly Silkworm, his mana reserves already exceeded those of a typical level 4 mage. If he took just one proper elixir on top of that, he'd hold more mana than even the level 5s.

And if I rise to level 4 while in that state...

He'd be able to spray out magic with the raw power of Trinity — figuratively and literally firing on all cylinders.

Long-term, the elixirs were unquestionably the right call. The problem was that enemies were now gunning for him, so he couldn't afford to ignore the possibility of an ambush, either.

The Blue Tower, and Ara Sweet.

Two parties, roughly, with reason to come after him at present. Both far too big to simply ignore.

Weighing the danger — since I'm still here in Baran, Ara Sweet is the greater threat.

Just as Marin had said, there was no telling what that vindictive lunatic might do. He had operated under Kilian's name, granted, but the cover story was flimsy enough that anyone who investigated in earnest would see through it in no time.

Having thought it through that far, Oscar offered a word of warning.

"You should watch yourself for a while, too."

"Why is that?"

"I raised all sorts of hell using your name, so some crazed woman might come looking for you."

A mage with a tattoo piercing his left eye and crimson eyes. Not features one saw every day.

"Hm. But there was one more commission that had caught my interest personally. If that is so, I suppose I ought to abandon it."

"What kind of commission?"

"One seeking a mage to decipher encrypted materials. The success reward is a full 500,000 bel."

"That's a hefty sum."

Big city, big spenders, apparently — these clients didn't pinch pennies.

"But forget it, clean and simple. No life is worth losing over 500,000 bel."

"You speak the truth."

"So, back to the White Tower, then?"

"...As much as I'd like to, I can't. Not yet."

Kilian's earnest face wavered.

"The commission was only ever secondary. I came to this city for a different purpose entirely."

"Which is?"

"To capture the worst traitor in the history of the forest tribe. There are rumors he was active in this city recently."

That was a far heavier subject than Oscar had expected.

"The worst traitor in your history? Sounds like he must have done something truly catastrophic."

"...I cannot share the details with an outsider, but yes."

The warriors of the forest were the sort to overlook and forgive nearly any transgression — for one of them to radiate such burning hostility said everything.

Oscar struck his own chest once with his fist, then extended it forward.

"I hope you catch that traitor, without fail. See you at the White Tower."

It was a traditional greeting of the forest tribe. Kilian smiled faintly, struck his gloved fist against his chest in the same manner, and touched his knuckles to Oscar's.

"Aye. See you at the White Tower."

The moment Oscar stepped into the Blood Tower's Baran branch, the woman seated at the counter glanced up at the clock on the wall. Checking that the hour hand pointed to nine and the minute hand to forty-five, she let out a soft sigh. One look told the story: quitting time was near, and work was the last thing she wanted.

"What can we do for yoooou~"

"I'm here to search for someone."

"Did you bring a blood sample of the person you seeeek~"

A tone of minimal courtesy that drained the will right out of anyone listening. It put him in mind of an imperial bureaucrat.

"Yes, I did."

"Then please step into that room and fill one of the prepared vials with the blooood~"

Oscar went straight into the room she indicated and picked one vial from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠neat row of empties.

A blood sample, then.

He pricked the tip of his own finger with a needle of condensed mana, and a few beads of blood welled up. Dropping them into the vial, he stirred his mana and began altering the blood's composition and structure. He already knew Edna's blood signature by heart, after all.

Artificially synthesized dragon blood like this won't carry the true thing's inherent effects, but locating her position should be well within its power.

Having filled the small vial roughly halfway, Oscar stepped back out.

"Just place the vial in the rack. Thank you for your patronage—"

"Oh! Sir? Excuse me, sir! One moment, please!"

The clerk hurriedly called him back just as he was heading for the exit, heaved a sigh, and spread a pamphlet across the counter.

"Please select the plan you'd like here, and settle payment beforewaaaard~"

"...I'm sorry?"

Faced with a situation he hadn't anticipated, Oscar blinked. "This costs money?"

"...We are performing a service, after all. Surely that's only natural?"

He genuinely hadn't known. As recently as twenty-six years ago it had been free, but apparently they'd started charging somewhere along the way.

Oscar approached with an awkward smile and scanned the pamphlet she'd spread open.

"Ah, the continent-wide, ultra-wide-area search. Special-Class, please."

A plan he'd used more than a hundred times in his past life.

Oscar asked, "Last I heard, this was free of charge. I take it that changed at some point?"

"You are mistaken, custooomer~ The Blood Tower's tracking services have never once been free of chaaaarge~"

"...I distinctly heard that even the Special-Class plan used to be processed free of charge?"

"Some decades ago, complimentary service was extended to tower masters and members of the imperial family, but that privilege is no longer offereeed~"

"......"

So in his past life, he'd gotten it free just for being a Tower Master?

Learning this for the first time, the tips of Oscar's ears went faintly red.

"Ah — my apologies. I only heard that the former White Tower Master used to make regular use of this free of charge."

"...Hold on. You're not from the White Tower, by any chance?"

In an instant, the clerk's eyes sharpened and her slurred drone snapped into crisp diction.

Oscar shook his head on pure instinct. "No. I have absolutely no connection to any such place."

I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry, everyone.

"Whew, what a relief~ There's a directive on the books to charge White Tower mages an additional thirty percent surcharge, you seeee~"

"...And why only the White Tower?"

"Because the previous White Tower Master, the great Oscar Sage, used the Special-Class plan free of charge a grand total of one hundred and eight times, and the Blood Tower's finances very nearly capsizeeed~ The elders still grind their teeth at the mere mention of that man. For all his saintly reputation out in the world, they say he was truly a shameless creature — does he have any idea how much mana reagents cost for a single run of this plan, I wonder~ If the imperial treasury hadn't covered his tab after the war ended, the Blood Tower would have vanished into history altogether. The very privilege I mentioned earlier was abolished because of him as weeeell~"

"......"

So this was actually a staggeringly expensive service.

No wonder it always felt too convenient. All I ever had to do was bring them demon blood, and they'd pinpoint the exact location.

"Ahem. So — how much is the Special-Class plan, exactly?"

"One million five hundred thousand beeeel~"

"...I'm sorry, how much?"

Far more expensive than he'd imagined. Oscar swallowed hard, pulled out a money pouch, and asked, "Would you happen to offer... installments?"

"My deepest apologies, but installments are not availaaable~"

"I'll pay 1,100,000 bel right now, and return in a few days with the remaining 400,000. Surely that's acceptable?"

"...Haaaah."

The clerk heaved a long sigh, accepted the pouch, and checked the amount inside before speaking.

"If the remaining 400,000 bel goes unpaid, you will not receive the tracking results. Refunds are also unavailable."

"Understood. That's fine."

"If you agree to the terms, please sign the contract. Results will arrive in as little as one day, at most three."

Having scrawled his signature with unseemly speed, Oscar dashed out of the building and hurried to the inn where Kilian was staying.

Kilian opened the door, spotted him, and went wide-eyed.

"Oscar? What brings you here all of a sudden?"

Huff. Huff.

Having torn through the city gasping for breath any number of times, Oscar steadied his lungs and spoke.

"Kilian. That commission you mentioned earlier — tell me about it. In detail."