T/N: Names… Too many names… T_T
Episode 19: Noticing
Barony of Verité.
In this place, there lives a guileless baron who knows nothing of Arandria’s announcement, the demon’s summoning, or anything else.
His name is Baron Plian Verité.
Even when Perseta came saying he had finished building the magic school, Plian was carefree.
‘It’s already complete? Did my son help? His magical skill is truly amazing.’
That was all he thought.
No—in fact, he worried.
‘The building went up quickly and looks splendid… but how many students will actually come?’
To be frank, his son Perseta’s reputation was not very good.
People within the barony now knew he was no ordinary mage, but once outside the barony that was not the case.
Perseta was still just a dullard who had failed to end his thirty-year seclusion.
Since the building was already raised, they must have posted notices in Asher City, Count Ruis Asher’s seat of power nearby… yet how many students would see those and come…
Honestly, he doubted it. Even if some did arrive, their aptitude might be awful.
‘I hope he won’t be too disappointed.’
But once the “students” actually began to pour in, Baron Plian realized something in his thinking was wrong.
‘What is this? Why are they all so old?’
He had expected young would-be mages, at most in their thirties, yet those flocking in were clearly senior high-ranking mages.
‘What’s going on? Ah…! Maybe he’s holding a celebrity-mage invitation event to attract students?’
Up to that point Baron Plian merely thought his son’s ingenuity outstanding.
But—
“Why, Baron Echo? What brings you here?”
Baron Echo.
Among Count Asher’s retainers, he was the finest mage, the most renowned in the region.
Such a figure had dragged his aged body all the way here.
“Ah! Baron Verité! A pleasure. Ho-ho-ho! I envy you—taking in such an excellent talent as a household guest!”
“Pardon? An excellent talent?”
“Tut-tut, pretending not to know? Lord Salinelle, of course.”
“Ah-ah…”
Only then did Baron Plian grasp the situation a little.
‘My son must have traded on Lord Salinelle’s name.’
Salinelle—a mage who claimed an achievement beyond even eighth-level grand magi. With his fame he could certainly draw noted mages.
However, events soon began to exceed any scale Plian could imagine.
“Ah, Baron Echo, you must have no place to stay—allow me to invite you to my castle…”
At those words Baron Echo shook his head.
“Tut-tut, that won’t do. Keep the castle empty. Do not host anyone there.”
“Pardon? What do you—”
“Do you see over there?”
“You mean those odd mages in nightclothes?”
“Tut-tut! Those are the headmaster and deans of the Royal Magic Academy.”
“W-what?!”
The headmaster and deans of the Royal Magic Academy were among the top mages in the Kingdom of Dublanc.
Why would they be hurrying into the barony in their pajamas?
Yet Baron Echo gripped Plian’s hand and spoke meaningfully.
“It has only begun. Steel your heart. Absolutely—no matter whom you see, do not invite them into the castle. Win one person’s favor and you will earn the others’ hatred.”
Baron Plian was bewildered.
But within a few days he understood Baron Echo’s warning to the bone.
“Greetings, Baron Verité. I am Court Archmage Count Ivanovich Quinen.”
“G-gasp! Your Excellency the Count!”
Count Ivanovich Quinen, greatest mage of the kingdom, was only the beginning.
When the rustic baron bowed in shock and Quinen’s shoulders rose with pride…
“So you are Baron Verité? I am Marquis Jenon de Black.”
At the appearance of the head of the kingdom’s foremost magic lineage, Baron Plian nearly fainted, and Quinen’s shoulders grew humble again.
And then—
“Thank you for your welcome. I am Crown Princess Lanya Vichenna of the Kingdom of Vichenna.”
The heir to the magic kingdom appeared!
Though the Kingdom of Vichenna had waned in this age of fading mystery, it was still counted among the great powers.
For such a princess to come in person…
Guests who until then had puffed out their chests became modest, and Baron Plian felt ready to collapse.
But…
“I am Haken Smith, Tower Lord of the Mitera Mage-tower.”
One of the continent’s four great tower lords arrived, and—
“Headmaster and faculty of the Imperial Academy.”
The headmaster whom even the emperor revered, and professors whose names shone like stars, poured in from the Empire that dominated the continent; at that point Plian simply gave up thinking.
“Please, all of you, do come in. I am ashamed that my little domain is ill-suited to host such distinguished guests.”
Whether his heart fainted or screamed, he left it be; mechanically, he moved the muscles of his face.
Truly, had he not heeded Baron Echo’s advice, what would have happened?
He might have housed Count Quinen in the castle while seating the Vichennan crown princess and the Imperial Academy headmaster outside—an unforgivable discourtesy…
So Baron Plian offered only polite greetings, let the guests find their own lodgings, then fled to the safety of his chamber, diving beneath the covers and trembling.
‘What on earth… what on earth is happening, my son…!’
Outside the blanket was indeed dangerous.
Gillien, farmer of the Faerie Farm, felt he had been seeing every strange sight these days.
“What is this? So many lofty folk crowding like this…”
Persons one might never see in a lifetime were as common as pebbles by the roadside now.
Wasn’t this more magical than the faeries themselves?
His friend Louise, who ran the village inn, clicked his tongue.
“Lofty folk? There are so many lately I’ve lost the feel of it—can’t tell if they’re precious or just stones…”
Louise jerked his chin.
He meant the tables in the inn.
At every table,
distinguished mages were squeezed together, hurriedly eating food common folk would eat.
“Well, look over at the Faerie Farm too.”
Now Gillien pointed out the window. Outside, near the farm, that crowd of precious mages clung close, busy watching the faeries flit about.
Some local brat was showing off in front of them, explaining this and that, and each time the mages exclaimed loudly and nodded.
Innkeeper Louise shook his head.
“So many great people, yet no rooms left. The inn’s been full for ages, so every house is taking lodgers.”
“True. Even my house has about four mages sharing, though it’s cramped.”
“Yes. Only the truly, truly great ones pay high prices, rent land, set up tents or even put up new buildings.”
“Carpenter Beirn’s striking gold these days?”
“Exactly. Houses popping up everywhere—think how much work he’s got. He’s thrilled, says the new tools he bought are paying for themselves.”
“How long will they all stay?”
“Hmm. When I asked, about a month, they said…”
“Make it a year.”
“Phew. I wish they’d stay for life.”
Exchanging sly looks, Gillien and Louise broke into triumphant smiles.
“Heh-heh-heh. Right. See how free their hands are with money?”
“In all my life I never saw gold coins rolling about everywhere like this.”
“Even five-year-olds carry a coin each nowadays.”
A life where large sums clunked down every day.
The two happy old men clinked their beer mugs, cackling.
“May I ask something?”
“Ah, yes, please speak, sir.”
Startled, Gillien set down his mug. An elderly mage asked with dignity.
“I would like to greet Lord Salinelle first—do you know where he is?”
Gillien and Louise made vague faces.
“Salinelle?”
“Who’s that?”
At that, the middle-aged mage beside the dignified elder barked,
“Tut-tut! How can you not know Lord Salinelle, the mage of the great discovery!”
Gillien scratched his head.
“Hmm… I don’t know this Lord Salinelle, but if you want a great mage of our domain, there’s Young Master Perseta.”
“Ah, then do you know where this Young Master Perseta is?”
“Yes. He should be at the magic school right now.”
When Gillien pointed the way, the mage party tossed a gold coin in thanks and left the inn.
On the road to the magic school, the middle-aged mage who had barked earlier spoke in disbelief.
“Perseta—the assistant of Lord Salinelle, yes? Really—such rustic ignorance…”
The dignified elder, Ignacio Rapiel, headmaster of the Imperial Academy, smiled gently.
“Ho-ho. For folk of a country domain, their young master must be the best. And that Perseta fellow’s name was in Arandria’s announcement, was it not? Said he made an interesting conjecture.”
“Be that as it may. He was once famous as Bardente’s favorite pupil, yet in the end proved a dullard who never reached the realm before Bardente passed away.”
“Ho-ho. A pity indeed. Still, being that master’s pupil, he should have something up his sleeve. Let’s not look down on him too much.”
“Yes, Headmaster.”
The magic school Perseta Verité built stood in a cozy forest a bit removed from the barony’s center.
Bathed in warm sunlight, a small yet well-appointed school of brick and timber.
With magical wards to keep insects and wild beasts away, even the choosy professors of the Imperial Academy found the building quite satisfying.
“Welcome. I am Perseta Verité.”
While Perseta greeted the academy’s professors and headmaster, Salinelle came rushing out of the building, belated.
“Ah, sorry. I was doing some homework…”
Homework?
At that word puzzled looks crossed the professors’ and headmaster’s faces.
A mage of the century’s discovery doing homework? Isn’t homework something others assign?
While they thought so, Perseta guided them to the reception room.
Sipping the warm tea servants brought, they began earnest conversation.
Perseta led the talk.
“You wondered about the schedule, yes? Since many mages have gathered, I plan to start the forum tomorrow.”
“Oh-oh! A forum! Then we can test and debate Lord Salinelle’s discovery?”
“Yes. An open session to verify it, hear objections, and rebut again.”
“This will be great fun!”
Headmaster Ignacio Rapiel, despite being a hundred and twenty, clapped like a child.
Then, in a coaxing tone, he asked,
“Could you perhaps tell us in advance what the announcement covers?”
At that Salinelle looked to Perseta.
Perseta nodded calmly.
“The headmaster has come in person; naturally we should. Lord Salinelle, please give a brief explanation.”
“Ahem. Very well.”
At this, the Imperial Academy mages felt a slight discord.
Perseta… wasn’t he Salinelle’s assistant?
Why did Salinelle seem to gauge Perseta’s mood?
But such doubts vanished quickly once Salinelle began explaining his treatise, Emendatum.
“O-oh-oh!”
“Oh! Truly, plugging the Mana-wave Meter values into the formula strengthens the link with the mystical realm!”
In just ten minutes after Salinelle produced the Mana-wave Meter, the mages were in a frenzy.
“This is a feat equal to completing the Almagest itself!”
“As expected of Master Zerozia’s disciple—genius!”
Headmaster and professors showered unstinting praise.
After the first wave of excitement passed, the headmaster smacked his lips, a bit regretful, and asked cautiously:
“Yet even with this splendid technique, the frequencies of the five Upper Worlds are hard to confirm.”
Though much younger, Headmaster Ignacio used honorific speech, showing his respect.
Salinelle answered regretfully.
“Yes… the noise in that band is too strong; we can’t tell which frequencies come from the Upper Worlds.”
“Even if we predict using the Almagest’s descriptions of their harmonic motions, estimation is difficult?”
“Well… for the five Upper Worlds, even predictions via the Almagest don’t fit, it seems.”
“Hmm… do you perhaps have any idea why?”
Salinelle again glanced sidelong at Perseta, then replied reluctantly,
“I… don’t know.”
In truth, this was the question Perseta had asked when they first met.
Why does the Doppler-effect prediction using the Almagest not match for the five Upper Worlds?
Why indeed?
Then and now, he still had no answer.
When Salinelle said he did not know, Headmaster Ignacio nodded as if understanding.
“Well… the five Upper Worlds are such grand realms that different laws may apply…”
At those words Salinelle jumped and shouted,
“No! No, you must not approach it like that!”
Then he stole another glance at Perseta.
Perseta only smiled mysteriously.
That smile frightened Salinelle.
Any moment, those lips might open:
“How can you not know this!”
—as if to flay him alive. (T/N: Hahaha!)
I-I’m searching now, really, so please don’t look at me that way.
Salinelle cried out desperately. “A-a mage is one who finds observable reasons! Trying to explain by arbitrarily inserting conditions we cannot know or observe is not the proper attitude of inquiry!”
“I-is that so…?”
The headmaster was taken aback.
So were the professors.
Overawed by Salinelle’s fierce momentum, they were cowed.
Thus, reflexively and instinctively, they too began, unconsciously, to watch Perseta—the young man whose glance made Salinelle cower.
‘So… why are we watching that youngster’s face…?’
Without even knowing the reason.
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