The Special Mission Department (2)

Still the same as ever.

That was the feeling that rose naturally in Oscar the moment he heard the Vice Tower Master's words. After all, the reason the imperial family was entrusting him with the Special Missions Department was painfully transparent.

'Sure, I've made quite a name for myself these past few months, but at the end of the day I'm still just a Beginner Mage.'

It couldn't be that they were appointing him because he was a formidable mage in his own right, or because they glimpsed boundless potential in his future. So what exactly were they placing their faith in, handing him a special department like this? The answer was obvious.

'Nebula Grime. That man said it, didn't he?'

The organization he belonged to, Nebula had explained, took an extraordinary interest in Oscar. The reason: his rate of contact with the Black Finger was abnormally high.

The imperial family's position, he imagined, was hardly any different.

'Leave a department in my hands, and they figure I'll get tangled up with the Black Finger one way or another.'

Treating him as an efficient piece of bait—that was precisely how the imperial family did business.

Oscar let out a faint sigh and spoke.

"How will the department be staffed?"

"You'll select the members of the Special Missions Department yourself, Oscar, from among mages of 4th Level or below. Larger bodies make for slower movements, so a roster of no more than ten would be advisable."

In other words: pick up to nine mages at 4th Level or under. That was far from a bad deal. It meant he could build his covert organization exactly to his own taste.

"Will there be funding as well?"

"Of course. The Special Missions Department is supported jointly by the imperial family and the Tower, so you'll be granted a number of conveniences as well."

Joint funding from the Crown and the Tower, plus conveniences. In plain terms, that meant abundant resources—and the ability to skip past any number of tedious procedures.

"More than anything, given the nature of the work, the department will handle intelligence. You'll have access to every piece of information of 2nd grade or below that enters the White Tower."

For a man whose only source of information until now had been the newspaper, this was a privilege like rain after a drought. Truthfully, he'd never had a choice in the matter to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begin with, but this arrangement was starting to look positively appealing.

"Understood. If at all possible, I'd like to finish reorganizing the delivery department before taking on this work—would that be acceptable?"

"Naturally. Before then, you'd struggle to find work even if you went looking for it."

The Vice Tower Master smiled warmly.

"Shilin is a peaceful city, after all."

"That much is true."

"Ah, and one more thing—your compensation has been prepared."

"My compensation?"

Oscar, who had been blinking, let out a small sound of surprise.

"Ah—you mean my performance during that joint training exercise."

"That's right. It's something that will bring tremendous change to the White Tower's foundational curriculum going forward."

Compensation.

Considering that Fidelina had told him to look forward to it as well, this was clearly not something to be taken lightly. When Oscar's eyes began to sparkle with anticipation, the Vice Tower Master placed something on the table: a name plaque, an identification card, and a sheet of letter paper.

"This is...?"

"The name plaque and identification card are proof that Oscar is now a professor of the White Tower. Your field—theoretical magic."

A professor of the White Tower.

The weight of that title was far greater than it might have seemed.

'It isn't even comparable to some potion department headship.'

At minimum, it meant he would never again have to scramble to prove himself anywhere on the continent. Put simply, that title alone would not make it impossible to walk straight into the imperial palace this very moment.

"But... are you certain? I'm only a 3rd Level mage."

A tower's professors were, in a sense, a measure of the tower's own caliber. That was why the Four Great Magic Towers had always appointed only mages of at least 6th Level—and among those, only scholars of renown or authors of formidable theses.

'Granted, young Oscar's papers do carry real authority in the field of foundational magic. But he's saddled with that glaring 3rd Level tag.'

Which meant, from the White Tower's perspective, this was hardly a sound choice. Oscar spoke carefully.

"I'm deeply grateful, but might this be worth reconsidering?"

"Your knowledge, Oscar, is more than sufficient for a professorship. This was a decision carried unanimously by every elder of the White Tower."

"Still..."

"There is no need to worry."

The Vice Tower Master's gaze was warm. For an instant, a quiet emotion swelled in Oscar's chest—so much so that it brought his old master to mind.

"However diminished the White Tower's fame may have become, we are not so weak that we cannot boast of a genius among our own mages. A magic tower is, above all, a fence that shelters its mages."

"..."

There will be no shortage of raised eyebrows over this.

The Blue Tower in particular—his rivals in the potion trade—would be salivating at the chance to tear into it.

'They aren't people who'd miss that, either.'

On the contrary, they'd know it better than anyone. And yet they were willing to hand this over anyway, burdens and all. For the sake of a single mage belonging to the White Tower.

"...Then I'll do my utmost to bring no dishonor upon the Tower's name."

"Good. And no more drinking yourself senseless every night like the old days, understood."

Having tossed in the little joke, the Vice Tower Master glanced at the letter paper.

"In truth, the real prize is this."

"What on earth is this letter...?"

"Open it."

Nudged along by the anticipation brimming in the Vice Tower Master's eyes, Oscar unfolded the letter—and his eyes went wide.

"V-Vice Tower Master. Could this be...?"

"It is. An invitation to meet the Sage of the Stars."

As though he had known all along that Oscar would be pleased, a contented smile spread across the Vice Tower Master's face. But Oscar, delighted though he was, asked cautiously with a hint of hesitation.

"Is it really all right for someone as green as me—still only 3rd Level—to receive something so precious? As I understand it, only five of these are distributed to each tower per year."

"Correct. But after deliberation, the council of elders concluded that, considering the value of the breathing method you discovered and the training regimen built upon it, this much was only fair to offer."

Well, he had a point. The value of those things was staggering.

Conceding the point without quite meaning to, Oscar stared at the invitation, which glittered as though dusted with powdered starlight.

'In my past life, I met the Sage of the Stars when I was 6th Level.'

He had assumed this time would be no different, that their meeting would come around then—but the moment had arrived far sooner than expected.

Still, it was too early to celebrate. One thing nagged at him.

'There's no guarantee he'll agree to see me.'

As far as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Oscar knew, one could meet the Sage of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Stars only once in a lifetime. Which meant there was a real chance that this time, the Sage would refuse him. Though his outward appearance had changed, the soul within remained Oscar Sage's own.

'That much I won't know until I go and face him myself.'

Having sorted through his thoughts, Oscar looked up at the Vice Tower Master and answered.

"...If you insist that strongly, then I will accept with gratitude."

Back in his room, Oscar floated in midair with his arms crossed, hovering beside an open book. Thinking of the future, it was wise to keep practicing flight magic in the gaps between his reading, after all.

Rustle.

A breeze stirred, and the pages turned of their own accord.

Apparently, the concept of tower performance records hadn't changed much from his day to this one. Not that it had been particularly flawed back then, either. Oscar's expression deepened in thought.

'There are three great components that make up a tower's records.'

The first, naturally, was achievements in magic and research. Since a magic tower was, at its core, an institution devoted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the pursuit of truth, this counted for the most.

'How many splendid spells and theories did the tower develop, study, or restore over the year—that's the crux of it.'

His own case, the development of a treatment and vaccine for the Cadena Flu, would fall under this category. Of course, the profits earned from it counted not one whit toward one's records. The emperor of several centuries past, who had first devised the concept of performance records, had no desire to see magic towers become merchants.

'The second component was how many high-tier mages the tower produced.'

That, he remembered, had carried the highest weight. An abundance of powerful mages tied directly to national strength.

'But neither of those two methods can deliver steady results year after year.'

Meaningful magical research at any respectable level consumed a minimum of five years. High-tier mages of 7th Level and above emerged even more rarely. If they had popped out reliably every year, the Great Emperor would have been hunted down the moment he first appeared.

'So the fastest way for a tower to build its records is...'

Oscar's eyes traced down the page.

'So it's commission work, as expected.'

In truth, this was the very reason the concept of "records" had arisen for magic towers at all. Clever, really. The towers had sworn loyalty to the Empire yet held no power to compel their members—so the system was designed to make them dispatch mages of their own accord and resolve the Empire's problems, great and small.

'And commission records are precisely where our White Tower is weakest right now.'

It was almost too obvious. Without high-tier mages—and without a deep bench of Intermediate mages either—the commissions simply wouldn't come in at all.

'We barely even have any high-tier spells in the tower.'

Whatever the Vice Tower Master and the elders were currently mastering likely constituted the entirety of the tower's holdings. As an aside, Sasha's ascension to Tower Master probably had something to do with this as well.

'Only the Tower Master and their successor are permitted to access every high-tier spell the tower possesses.'

Sasha, whom he had personally taken as his third disciple, was undeniably brilliant. Seat her as Tower Master, then, and have her master every high-tier spell currently in the tower's possession—that must have been the reasoning.

"...So I have to fill these records somehow through the Special Missions Department. That's the shape of it."

What Nebula Grime had described as a position where he could accumulate records was surely the Special Missions Department. The department would likely handle weightier affairs than ordinary commissions.

'The trouble, though, is that I only have one body.'

At this very hour, other towers had thousands of mages in the field resolving commissions. For a single individual to try to match the records they amassed was, frankly, impossible.

Not that he hadn't done it once before.

'Our record of slaying the Great Emperor on the Night of Purge must have been, quite literally, astronomical.'

Indeed, twenty years on, the imperial family still acknowledged the White Tower as one of the Four Great Magic Towers. That could only mean the record of saving humanity remained overwhelmingly untouchable.

'But I was warned that if I don't bank enough records, things could get dicey at the White Night Festival...'

Which meant he needed to gather records through substantial cases. And substantial cases, naturally, were rarely the kind a man could handle alone.

It was time to start recruiting members for the Special Missions Department.