People of the Wind (3)
The Yellow Tower, in the East. The atmosphere at the regular meeting held there was noticeably different from usual—heavier, stiffer, thick with tension.
"I'll begin the briefing."
At the mage's words, an enormous photograph materialized at the front of the conference room. In the picture, a person was captured flying above the rooftops astride a bike of a design none of them had ever seen before.
"This is the true nature of the item the White Tower purchased and modified. Its official designation is Zephyr-001. Its purpose is a flying vehicle, and it is the cornerstone of their newly reorganized delivery business."
The mages' eyes went wide at the thunderbolt of a revelation.
"A flying... vehicle, you say?"
"Impossible. The efficiency of airships is abysmal."
"Didn't we already spend quite a while researching that ourselves?"
"Silence."
The one who silenced the room, which had erupted into chatter in an instant, was Tony Havertz, Head of Magic Engineering. Without taking his eyes off the sharp photograph, he spoke.
"What are the detailed specifications of the device?"
"Maximum altitude of 15 meters, and it is believed capable of operating for up to six hours. The Intelligence Department has therefore concluded that the White Tower does not possess Ouroboros."
Relieved sighs escaped here and there at that, and Tony's expression eased considerably.
"That's a relief. How does it compare to the airships we developed in the past?"
"Its specs are certainly better than those, but calling it an innovation would be a gross overstatement."
That was enough.
That was the shared thought floating above everyone's heads. If even the faintest trace of Oscar Sage's magic—Ouroboros—had been found in the Zephyr-001, the vehicle the White Tower had newly developed, they would have had to prepare for a full-scale war, one that would have rivaled the great conflict itself.
"If the opportunity arises, acquire one and examine it. They may have hidden magic within it."
"Yes, understood."
"Then what about the White Tower's new delivery business that makes use of this vehicle?"
"As of now, I believe it is so complete that it has no true substitute."
Tony wore an expression of rare surprise at the Intelligence mage's lavish praise.
"That highly, is it?"
"Yes. An ordinary person can learn to ride the vehicle with only a brief practice session, and the Bullet Delivery service they launched on the strength of its overwhelming top speed of 100 km/h has been extremely well received."
"Bullet Delivery? What is that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like—delivery as fast as a bullet. Within the service area, anyone can send or receive items in mere minutes, and if they wish, they can have food delivered right to where they're sitting."
The mages, picturing the scene naturally in their minds, nodded one by one. After all, it meant they could order whatever they wanted to eat without ever leaving home.
"And how are orders placed?"
"Either by contacting an order center through a communication device, or by visiting an order center in person to make a reservation."
"Hmm."
Tony nodded along as he listened.
"It's a rather solid business model. As long as nothing goes wrong, they can keep scaling it up."
"I think so too. In fact, when we asked citizens who had used the service, their satisfaction was remarkably high. The service will likely be expanded nationwide."
"Everyone wants a more comfortable life, after all."
That was both the trigger and the driving force behind the advancement of civilization. The moment Tony grasped the future potential of this business, he understood exactly what they needed to do.
"The bigger this 'People of the Wind' operation grows, the more communication devices will be used—and sold."
"Very likely. People will eventually find even visiting an order center to be too much of a hassle."
"Hmm. Then create a communication device model cheap enough for ordinary office workers to afford and bring it in. It only needs the most basic communication functions, and you can restrict the service range to the city where the user resides."
"Ah—a product aimed squarely at People of the Wind customers. Understood."
Just as the subordinate mage marveled aloud in admiration, the head of the government affairs department, who had been listening quietly, spoke up.
"Director of Magic Engineering. About that vehicle—couldn't we perhaps make use of it ourselves?"
"Make use of it, you say?"
"Yes. Even once the train is complete and full-scale trade begins, we still won't be able to move goods into the interior of each city. And building new infrastructure for that purpose would cost an astronomical sum in its own right."
"Go on."
"In a word, I'm suggesting that when that time comes, we make the White Tower our subcontractor."
It amounted to nothing less than swallowing the White Tower's business whole.
"Hm. Certainly, the White Tower has the data and know-how for intra-city delivery, so a partnership between the two towers would make for a fairly attractive picture. But with a brand-new weapon like Bullet Delivery in their hands, why on earth would they stoop to doing our menial work?"
"Which is precisely why now is the perfect time to tame them."
A venomous smile crept across the head of Intelligence's lips.
"The vehicle the White Tower is currently using is, at its core, our very own Yellow Tower bike, is it not? They stole it and modified it without permission—so unless they obtain our consent, we must ensure they cannot use it at all."
"Hmm."
It was sophistry so shameless it didn't merit a response. Yet after long deliberation, Tony nodded.
"You're not wrong."
Living in this world, one occasionally encounters moments when the meaning behind words—and whether they are even true—simply ceases to matter. Such is always the case when the speaker, the one holding the words, wields overwhelming power.
"It's been a while. I should reach out to the Imperial court."
A single transmission would be enough to bring pressure down on the White Tower from the highest levels of the Empire. And pretexts for picking a fight? There were more than they could count.
Safety performance inspections, certification and licensing status, the possibility of on-site privacy audits, and so on...
After all, any stick would do to beat a dog with—hang it on the nose, it was a nose ring; hang it on the ear, an earring.
"The Imperial court, you say?"
Oscar asked again, his expression one of deep displeasure. And no wonder—the brakes had just been slammed on a business that was running beautifully.
Pedro X pressed hard at his temples as he spoke.
"Yes. Apparently, since it's a device of an entirely new type, an inspector will be visiting Shilin personally to check this and that performance metric—but the way they phrased it felt distinctly..."
"...Negative, I take it."
He gave a feeble nod.
"It struck me as so out of nowhere that I did some digging on my own. Turns out the man received a scholarship from the Yellow Tower back in his academy days. There's a good chance their influence is behind this."
"Ha."
Oscar let out a hollow laugh.
So that's how you want to play it?
Frankly, he preferred not to fight in the mud. Losing left a filthy taste in the mouth, and winning left a queasy one—neither suited him at all.
But since they're the ones who stirred up the mud first, there's nothing to be done about it.
The water was already clouded, murky to the point that he couldn't see a hand's breadth ahead. To set it right again, there was only one option: catch the fish thrashing about at the bottom of it.
"I'll handle this part myself, so stay out of it, Senior."
"What? How do you plan to— no, never mind."
Pedro started to ask something, then shook his head. Now that the fellow had said so, he would bring back results by whatever means necessary. Just as Oscar had come to learn how to use him, he too had learned how to use Oscar.
"I trust you'll take care of it. I'm counting on you."
"Yes, sir."
Having answered with perfect confidence, Oscar headed straight for the Special Affairs office, where he picked up the communication device sitting there.
Vuuuum.
The black sedan sliding along the unpaved road bore silver license plates. That meant an official of the Imperial court was riding inside it.
Sure enough, a man reclining comfortably in the back seat spoke up.
"Hmph. Shilin was once called a great metropolis, and yet the condition of the surrounding roads is a disaster."
The reply came from his secretary in the passenger seat.
"Presumably because the war damage here was severe. They poured everything into restoring the tower and the city rather than repairing the roads."
For this luxurious vehicle to be jolting like a peasant's cart. He shook his head slowly.
"And yet Rouen has smooth pavement even two hours out into its outskirts..."
"Haha. It's not called the Heart of the East for nothing. That's a city with infrastructure on par with the capital itself."
"I'd hoped for much when I heard it was the attached territory of a Great Tower like the Yellow Tower, but it seems the Yellow Tower truly is the finest."
"Y-yes, quite."
The aide, responding with an awkward smile, thought to himself:
'This bastard doesn't even bother hiding that he's on the Yellow Tower's payroll. Yellow Tower this, Yellow Tower that. I'm sick to death of it.'
The examiner of the Imperial Technology Verification Department whom he served was a Yellow Tower man through and through. The kind of man who, if the world demanded he erase one of the two—the Imperial court or the Yellow Tower—would choose the court without hesitation... precisely because he had walked a golden road his whole life on the Yellow Tower's every patronage.
"Examiner, sir. I've organized the safety evaluation criteria for today's inspection of the Zephyr-001 in these documents."
"Mm."
The examiner skimmed the papers carelessly, then tossed them onto the seat beside him.
"How do you expect to evaluate safety with such cookie-cutter, box-ticking criteria? I'll handle it my own way—don't concern yourself."
"...Ah. Yes, sir."
Only as they drew near Shilin did the quality of the road finally improve. The sedan, which had sprinted the distance in no time, came to a stop at the tower's entrance.
"Ahem."
When the secretary opened the rear door, the examiner at last stepped out of the vehicle, hands clasped behind his back. Waiting to receive him stood a young man, barely more than a boy.
"Thank you for coming such a long way. I am Oscar Crucian, who will be attending to you today, Examiner."
"Hm. Oscar Crucian. I've heard that name a time or two."
Was this not the mage who had been stirring up the hottest gossip in the realm of late? He gave a couple of thoughtful nods and spoke.
"I am Hugo Mores, examiner of the Imperial Technology Verification Department. No need for pleasantries—let's see the device first."
"Of course. Then I'll take you straight there."
As he led them toward the White Tower's outdoor training grounds, Oscar remarked:
"We had already been conducting our own performance checks, in fact, ever since we heard an official would be arriving from the court."
"Your own performance checks? What a waste of effort."
Hugo's brow furrowed.
"Experiments you run among yourselves carry no authority, no official validity whatsoever. I will report to my superiors only what I have seen, felt, and judged with my own eyes."
"Ah, is that so?"
"It is. So don't entertain any notions of pulling the wool over my eyes—let's see the device."
When they arrived at the training grounds, sure enough, a bike was wheeling through the sky, just as Oscar had said. Executing flashy spins and hard braking in a sequence of quite punishing performance tests, the bike descended slowly onto the grounds.
"Hmm. Not bad, this. From my own examination, it would earn full marks for safety."
As the man dismounted the bike, helmet still on, Hugo gave a derisive snort.
"Who are you to be pronouncing anything 'full marks'? I'll examine it myself. Get back over there."
"..."
At that imperious tone, the man offered no argument and withdrew to the rear.
Before long, Hugo had poked and prodded at the Zephyr-001 from every angle, rapped his knuckles against it here and there, and then scowled.
"Hmm. The thing looks shoddy from the outside alone. Not to my taste at all."
"That isn't the case. It's actually under a full suite of protective enchant—"
"Enough. The judgment is mine. Don't go forcing your personal opinions on me."
Having fired off those words with finality, Hugo then ran a battery of stability tests, and shook his head.
"Certainly not bad, but regrettably, the score falls short. Failed."
"If it's failed... what happens then?"
"You remedy the deficiencies and pass the next technology verification assessment. And I'll offer you a piece of advice."
Even as he said it, he drew a single business card from his breast pocket. Oscar looked at it and asked:
"And what is this?"
"The card of a Yellow Tower mage I happen to know well. Try requesting a technical collaboration from him. His skill is beyond question, and with his help, your next verification assessment is certain to pass."
"I must decline. Our own technology will suffice."
"Ahem. Honestly, you're young, and it shows—you can't seem to grasp what's being said to you..."
Just as Hugo, his irritation written plainly across his face, was about to say more—
"I see. So this is why I was summoned."
A man had drawn near them without their noticing, and he murmured the words quietly. Hugo, who hadn't sensed so much as a whisper of his approach, jumped and shouted in alarm.
"H-how dare a lowly rider interject into a conversation above his station!"
"..."
The man, at whom the finger was pointed, slowly removed his helmet—revealing a head of characteristically short, tidy hair.
And the instant Hugo Mores laid eyes on his face, both of his eyes went wide enough to burst.
"Now, then. Am I permitted to join the conversation?"
Chief Superintendent Walker's cold eyes fixed on Hugo the way one might regard an insect.