City of Dreamers (1)
The next agenda item concerned the largest and most famous department in the White Tower at present.
Referring to the documents she had prepared, Lena White walked the room through the revenue and sales figures for each city.
“...And that brings the Potion Department's total revenue for this month to thirty-seven million bells. Sales of treatments and vaccines for the Cadena Flu account for a mere eleven percent of that figure, and from next month onward, we expect that share to drop into the single digits.”
“Phew.”
Relieved sighs drifted from every corner of the meeting room.
If the White Tower had failed to establish a firm foothold in the potion market, this month would have marked the end of its income entirely.
“Please make sure the production methods for all Cadena-related medicines are written up and archived properly. We need to be ready to respond the moment that flu resurfaces, whenever that may be.”
“Understood.”
“Any other matters?”
“...Requests for additional mages to be assigned to potion production are pouring in from every direction.”
“Hmm.”
Ordinarily, a problem like this would end the moment the idle mages were reassigned to the department in question.
But there was no such thing as a mage with the luxury of idleness in the struggling White Tower—no one was that fortunate.
Every mage of 4th level or above was already hard at work in one department or another.
In other words, there wasn't a single mage who could be deployed as an immediate fighting force.
“What if we conducted a large-scale recruitment of this year's academy graduates in early spring? Would that not work?”
“Most academy graduates are 3rd level. Whichever department they join, they'd need to reach at least 4th level before they could be deployed, which means waiting a minimum of one to two years. Calling them an immediate fighting force would be a stretch.”
Her point was sound.
The Potion Department, short-handed as it was, needed mages of 4th level or higher—and it needed them now.
Worse still, both the number and the caliber of mages the White Tower managed to recruit had been sliding year after year.
The label of “fallen magic tower” had simply taken too firm a hold.
“That's true. Joining the White Tower ought to come with some kind of benefit, and right now it offers none.”
“Exactly. Until a few years ago, the prestige of being one of the Four Great Magic Towers still drew a fair number of talented candidates, but...”
Ever since word spread that the tower was a shell of its former self, talented mages had stopped coming altogether.
And that wasn't all. The very existence of the Delivery Department was another reason so many mages hesitated to join the White Tower.
Who wanted to enroll at a magic tower only to abandon proper magical research and spend their days running around making deliveries?
“...Immediate fighting forces—mages of 4th level or above. Let me work on devising a solution for this.”
Having exchanged a glance with Lena White, the Deputy Tower Master turned his gaze toward the Delivery Department.
“How are things going in the Delivery Department these days?”
“Whew, don't even get me started.”
The one shaking his head was Pedro X, a 6th-level mage.
“I'm reaching my limit when it comes to placating the kids. They're in an absolute uproar over when their role reassignments are coming.”
“Your department too? That really is a problem.”
As Fidelina's delicate brow furrowed, Maxim tilted his head.
“The Delivery Department has always been the quiet one, hasn't it? Why the sudden commotion?”
“Why do you think? The Potion Department, obviously.”
Fidelina replied, her mouth twisting into a pout.
Just as Maxim said, the Delivery Department's mages had never caused trouble like this before.
But the reason they had recently begun raising their voices was simple.
“Delivering packages and letters is honestly no easy work. It takes a toll on the body and the mind alike. That's why the delivery routes used to be rotated among all our mages of 4th level and above... but ever since the Potion Department appeared, those assignments have become permanent.”
“Then why not rotate the Potion Department and Delivery Department mages on a regular schedule?”
“That was the original plan.”
The problem was that the Potion Department had grown explosively in a very short span of time.
The White Tower's Potion Department was now posting monstrous monthly revenues of over thirty million bells.
Which meant it needed to produce more and more potions with every passing month.
“The potion market is ruthlessly sensitive to quality. A potion can be the difference between whether it saves your life in a moment of crisis or doesn't.”
And in that environment, they were supposed to rotate experienced potion-brewing mages back into delivery work and hand production over to complete novices?
Unthinkable.
One didn't need to think far ahead to see that the White Tower's market share in potions would shatter on the spot—it was as obvious as fire.
“Of course, Oscar's skill was the biggest factor, but the timing of our entry was fortunate too, and that's what let the White Tower's potions establish themselves in the market so quickly. We can't afford to let slip an opportunity this golden.”
That said, they couldn't demand open-ended sacrifice from the Delivery Department's mages either.
They hadn't joined a magic tower because they wanted to spend their lives hauling packages around.
“Whew.”
“Haah.”
With no easy solution in sight, sighs kept rising from around the meeting room—until—
Clap clap! The Deputy Tower Master clapped his hands, dispelling the gloomy mood, and spoke.
“Regarding the positions of the Potion Department and the Delivery Department, we will deliberate further and produce a solution both sides can accept. In addition, let's all think about what kind of benefit the White Tower could offer to attract new mages.”
“A benefit, hmm...”
For mages fresh out of the academy, the short-term goal was, above all else, growth.
Or more precisely, becoming a 4th-level intermediate mage.
But who could accomplish that through a standard curriculum alone?
Just as everyone was thinking it couldn't be done, Maxim spoke up.
“Now that you mention it, December is nearly over... which means that day is drawing near, doesn't it.”
“Yes, it does.”
Everyone seemed to arrive at the same thought at once, their expressions hardening with resolve.
Maxim turned to the head of the Delivery Department.
“Has the El Terra Order requested our cooperation again this year?”
“They have. They're offering five million bells, an increase over last year.”
Even now, with the Potion Department raking in money hand over fist, five million bells was by no means a light sum.
And astonishingly, that money was a single day's wage—payment for just one day of the White Tower's labor.
The head of the Delivery Department, Pedro X, spoke with a grave face.
“Everyone, please prepare yourselves.”
December 25th was Christmas, one of the Order's holy days.
On that day, the White Tower's delivery mages donned red garments and delivered presents to good children everywhere.
“Ah, and one more thing. The Vince Territory has sent us a rather special request.”
A special request from the Vince Territory.
Though no one had heard the details, everyone had quietly caught on to what it must be.
“Could it be a request to send Oscar?”
“It is. They wish to express their gratitude for the Cadena Flu, and they thought this occasion would be the right one.”
“Good experience for the boy, I'd say. What are your thoughts, Deputy Tower Master?”
At Maxim's question, the man deliberated for a moment before nodding.
“It's nothing dangerous, so I see no reason to object. Let us cooperate closely with the El Terra Order and see this Christmas through safely as well. Now, what's the next agenda item?”
At his question, Fidelina spoke up carefully.
“Word is, the other towers' rookie classes are starting to produce 4th-level mages this year.”
“Mm.”
The Deputy Tower Master and the elders occupied positions where they could not afford to ignore such matters.
Yet they had always made a point of never breathing a word about growth.
Because this was the White Tower.
Our tower still doesn't even have a proper curriculum or textbooks for the beginner mages...
They had been steadily developing them over the past decade and more, but nothing had ever shown results, and the projects had been scrapped again and again.
This year, at least, Oscar's Reinterpretation of Basic Magic had been a runaway success—but whether he would take on the same lecture again next year remained an open question.
The Deputy Tower Master let out a long, deep sigh.
“And how is our tower's rookie class faring?”
“The most talented among them is Damian Proud, but even he is still 3rd level. From what I can see, his mana circuits haven't finished stabilizing yet.”
It was Fidelina who picked up where Maxim's answer left off.
“Well, Oscar is personally overseeing their training, so a few of them might just reach 4th level by the time the boot camp ends, don't you think?”
“Oh, I know the boy has a natural gift for teaching people, but...”
Maxim shook his head, skeptical.
“This is turning beginner mages into intermediate mages, no less. If it were really as easy as stamping out bread in a factory, the White Tower wouldn't have struggled every single year to recruit mages in the first place.”
“...Fair point. Now that I think of it, hasn't it already been three weeks since the boot camp started?”
Three weeks.
In truth, no one had ever seen a boot camp run this long—not outside the tower, but inside it.
“What on earth are they even training in there, I wonder.”
“No idea. How would any of us know what goes on inside that boy's head?”
Curiosity had been quietly building in everyone's mind that afternoon—
And as if on cue, the stars of all those rumors finished their boot camp and emerged onto the 36th floor.
Their footwork is different.
It was a kind of admiring phrase usually reserved for knights who displayed skill far beyond their peers.
So what was the equivalent praise for a mage?
The answer was: their eyes are different.
“...Hm?”
Maxim and Fidelina, stepping off the mana elevator on their way to visit the Deputy Tower Master's office, froze in surprise.
Oscar and the 3rd-level beginner mages from the boot camp on the 36th floor filled the corridor from end to end.
So they didn't make it to noble rank after all.
Look at them, popping right out the moment the meeting ended. Adorable, the lot of them.
At the sight of these young sprouts who would one day carry the tower's future, faint smiles rose unbidden to the two elders' lips.
But it lasted only a moment. Spotting the mage at the very front of the line, Maxim tilted his head.
Hold on—Damian's eyes have gotten deeper?
After a moment's observation, he broke into a wide grin and offered his congratulations.
“Damian Proud, a remarkable achievement! Congratulations on becoming an intermediate mage.”
“Thank you, Elder.”
“And... hm?”
But the moment his eyes fell on the boy beside him, his head tilted askew once more.
Benjamin Scott—this boy's eyes have... deepened too?
What were the odds?
He smiled even more brightly than before and clasped Benjamin's hand in both of his own.
“Well done! You've done splendidly! To think you've become an intermediate mage too, Benjamin!”
“Thank you. It's all thanks to the excellent instruction of Instructor Oscar.”
“Hm? Instructor?”
Not a senior colleague?
Before Maxim could even voice the question, a shriek rang out from behind him.
“Kyaa!”
“What is it?”
“Y-you... can't you see the state these children are in?”
“Of course I can. Especially Damian and Benjamin, and—”
Only then did Maxim sweep his gaze across the rest of the children, and his face hardened by the second.
Kail too, Sylvia too, Tophre too... no, even Amy?
This one, that one—without a single exception, every pair of eyes had deepened.
Just as the sheer absurdity of the situation was failing to properly register in his mind, the Deputy Tower Master's office opened and Hamel Grimwiz stepped out.
“What on earth is all this commotion in the corridor... wait, why is everyone gathered here?”
“We greet the Deputy Tower Master.”
The moment Oscar spoke, thirty-two voices rang out in perfect unison behind him.
“We greet the Deputy Tower Master!”
“......”
Such crisp military discipline—it was almost like looking at the mages of the Red Tower.
He'd said he was taking the children off to boot camp, and he came back with soldiers.
To the Deputy Tower Master's bemused expression, Oscar delivered his report in his capacity as the lecture's instructor and the training's commanding officer.
“Thirty-two students of the Reinterpretation of Basic Magic report the completion of their promotion to 4th level, all ranks, and their return from the boot camp.”