Chapter 355: Finally Arrived (1)

The Magic Tower Exchange.

It was a grand event that had been held between Magic Towers for generations.

The exchange was an opportunity for mages to gather, share knowledge, engage in debates, and demonstrate their skills—an event that was described, in their own words, as "extremely refined and dignified." With mages from various schools coming together, there was much to gain for all involved.

For the typically insular mages, it was a rare chance to learn about fields outside their own. 

Mages, being naturally possessive of their knowledge, were notoriously unwilling to share it while always eager to gain more from others. This peculiar disposition had made the exchange a vital tradition for fostering mutual growth.

However, over time, this exchange had dwindled. Especially between mages of the same school, sharing anything became an increasingly rare occurrence. Rivalry and suspicion ran deep. No one could trust another, fearing their peers might rise to surpass them.

This was especially true for the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower and the Crimson Magic Tower, who were outright hostile to each other. Yet now, Delmud, the Crimson Tower's lord, had specifically proposed an exchange with their long-time rivals.

Elder Glenn frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

"Do you think they'll accept such a proposal?"

"They'll have to," Delmud replied coldly. "If they refuse, we'll make sure to hinder everything they do until they have no choice."

Delmud had one clear reason for pushing this exchange: these events always involved competitions between the disciples of the participating Magic Towers. By tradition, the tower lords and elders did not compete. Losing would damage their tower's reputation, so they avoided participating altogether.

But tradition wasn't a rule. Delmud planned to exploit this loophole. He intended to participate himself, create an opportunity, and eliminate his rivals during the event.

"Do whatever it takes to make this exchange happen. At this rate, we'll lose ground before the civil war even begins."

The influence of a Magic Tower was traditionally determined by the rank of its tower lord, but its business prowess and range of influence were judged by other metrics. 

The Scarlet Flame Magic Tower, with its rich tradition, boasted superior artifact and potion production techniques, as well as a larger number of disciples. Even the number of elders who had reached the 5th circle was higher in the Scarlet Tower than in the Crimson Tower.

"Our financial advantage is gone, too."

Delmud's prowess as a 7th-circle mage was no longer enough. Previously, they had dominated the northern runestone trade thanks to the funding of Count Desmond. 

But now, the wealthiest man in the north, Count Fenris, was supporting the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower. Although the Duchy continued to provide aid to the Crimson Magic Tower, the distance to the north made that aid inefficient.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Delmud cursed another name.

"What on earth is Countess Rayfold doing?"

With Count Desmond's downfall, Amelia Rayfold, the new ruler of Rayfold, should have been stepping in to provide support. Despite Rayfold's harsh northern environment, it was a large territory with the resources to offer aid. Yet, for some reason, no meaningful support had arrived. Instead, Amelia repeatedly offered excuses, claiming her hands were tied by the rebellion and asking for patience.

Glenn, too, scowled as he clicked his tongue.

"That foolish girl lucked into becoming a ruler and can't even manage her territory properly. She lacks the foresight to see the bigger picture. She doesn't understand what's truly important... pathetic."

"Any further communication from her?" Delmud asked.

"None. I've met her several times, but all she does is ask for more time, citing the rebellion as the reason for her inability to help."

Glenn's frustration mirrored Delmud's. Every attempt to secure support from Amelia had ended in failure. Meanwhile, pressure from Raul, the Duke's representative, to neutralize the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower only continued to mount.

"This is all because of Count Fenris," Delmud growled.

Amelia was infuriating, but the biggest obstacle was undoubtedly Fenris. Ever since he defeated Count Desmond, everything had unraveled. 

Delmud couldn't outright defy the Duchy, as they had been instrumental in his rise to the 7th circle.

Sighing heavily, Delmud reluctantly settled on the option he had been trying to avoid.

"If the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower refuses the exchange, disrupt their dealings with every single client and trading partner. Kill a few mages if necessary. Do whatever it takes to force their hand."

The elders nodded grimly.

While outright attacking the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower wasn't out of the question, doing so would risk alienating the royalist faction and draw their scrutiny. But with no other options left, Delmud decided to proceed with brute force.

"If we destroy the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower, the royalists will undoubtedly push back. Before that happens, Glenn, you must extract support from Amelia—by any means necessary."

Glenn bowed in acknowledgment. It didn't matter what the royalists did; all they needed to do was hold out until the civil war began. Once the war was underway, they could crush the opposition with the Duke's forces.

Thus, the Crimson Magic Tower began its preparations for war against the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower.

***

When Ghislain returned to his territory, his people greeted him nonchalantly. They no longer worried about their lord's ventures, confident in his ability to return unscathed. Only the common folk expressed excitement at his arrival.

Among the vassals, only Claude seemed particularly animated. His eyes sparkled as he approached Ghislain.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"You must have brought something back from someone. Come on, hand it over."

"..."

He was treating Ghislain like a common bandit now. Though his methods might resemble banditry at times, Ghislain felt unfairly accused. He never took anything unjustly.

Suppressing a twitch in his lips, Ghislain replied curtly, "I have nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Are you saying you didn't bring anything back? Not even money?"

"That's right. Did you expect me to take some?"

Unbeknownst to Claude, Ghislain had acquired something far more valuable—Dark. However, the scope of his plans required that this asset remain hidden for now.

Claude, oblivious to Ghislain's careful secrecy, looked deeply disappointed.

"What's the point of going out, then?"

Ghislain rolled his eyes at the muttered complaint.

"Sometimes even you fail, huh? Should've bet on that. Well, it looks like you're past your prime. If you can't even plunder anymore, what good are you? You're not exactly likable, either."

'This brat…'

Though Claude muttered, his voice carried. His words were clearly meant to provoke. Ghislain, finally losing patience, began rolling up his sleeves.

"Oh, I did bring something back."

"Really? What is it? Show me!"

"I've come back with a reminder that for some, violence is the ultimate truth."

"...What?"

Smack!

"Arghhh!"

Claude screamed and bolted, with Ghislain hot on his heels. Nearby, Wendy wisely stepped aside.

But Claude had no chance of escaping. Ghislain grabbed him by the collar and proceeded to beat him into the ground.

"Hey! What's this nonsense you're teaching the kid? Madness, huh?"

"Ugh, fine! I was wrong! But was I wrong to call you a lunatic?!"

Even as he was pummeled, Claude's mouth refused to stop. This time, Ghislain made sure to increase the intensity of his lesson.

'Damn… his endurance is improving,' Ghislain thought as he continued the "education."

Indeed, for someone ranked as one of the weakest in the territory, Claude was surprisingly resilient. It was a curious thing, Ghislain mused.

'Is this the same intensity we use to train knights?'

Ghislain found himself pushing harder, and only then did Claude finally surrender.

"Stop! Stop hitting me! I won't do it again!"

"Phew... That's oddly satisfying."

Ghislain sighed in contentment as he watched Claude sniffle and wipe his tears. Claude wasn't the most satisfying to hit in terms of impact, but he was unmatched for venting frustration. He always knew how to get under Ghislain's skin.

With the impromptu "disciplinary session" concluded, Ghislain spoke in a deadpan tone.

"Call everyone in. I need to check on the state of the territory."

"Sniff, got it."

Following Ghislain's order, the vassals quickly assembled. However, a few seats remained conspicuously empty.

"Where's Alpoi? And some others are missing too," Ghislain asked, narrowing his eyes.

The gathered vassals exchanged awkward glances and forced smiles. Claude scratched his head before responding.

"Well... Alpoi's been pretty busy lately. You'll probably see him soon."

"Busy? That guy? Working hard?"

The vassals nodded hesitantly. It was true—Alpoi had been hard at work.

Ghislain frowned at their odd reactions but decided to start the meeting with a report on the territory's affairs. Everything was running smoothly, as expected. However, one detail stood out: the rapidly growing stockpile of potions.

"Wow... This is faster than I thought."

Near the magic research facility, countless potion production workshops had sprung up. The Fenris territory, now renowned for its construction capabilities, had rapidly built these facilities.

With mages, dwarves, and skilled laborers working together, dozens of potion factories had been completed in no time.

"And the number of mages has increased too?"

The magic research facility now employed nearly 70 mages. Claude had tirelessly promoted the territory, recruiting every mage who arrived in Fenris.

Mages, being inherently self-centered, didn't interfere when new mages joined. In fact, the workload was so overwhelming that they welcomed any reinforcements.

As a result, the facility had grown to resemble a small Magic Tower in itself. With abundant resources, potion production was progressing at an incredible pace.

"Soon, we'll be able to issue potions to every soldier. The goal of two potions each won't take much longer either."

The speed of progress was remarkable, exceeding expectations. Curious about how this was achieved, Ghislain decided to inspect the facilities.

"Alpoi must really be working hard if we've produced this many potions and he's too busy to attend meetings."

"Well... yes, he's working very hard."

"Unbelievable. That guy's actually become a decent person? That's not like him."

Ghislain's disbelief made Claude smile awkwardly again.

At the magic research facility and potion workshops, Ghislain found mages hard at work, though their faces looked utterly exhausted.

"I feel like I'm going to die..."

"This cursed territory... treating mages like this..."

"I just want to run away... I really want to run away..."

The mages were grinding their teeth in frustration, their weariness evident. Ghislain couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

"What did they do to get mages to work this hard?"

Mages, known for their individuality, weren't easily motivated—even with generous compensation. Their sour expressions made it clear they weren't happy, yet they continued working diligently.

Usually, such dissatisfaction would lower efficiency, which was why Ghislain had never considered enslaving mages—at least not explicitly. Yet these mages worked hard even in his absence. There had to be something different about how this was being managed.

'Is Vanessa behind this?'

The idea crossed his mind but was quickly dismissed. Vanessa was an excellent scholar, but not a strong administrator.

If this was her doing, the atmosphere wouldn't feel this oppressive.

As Ghislain pondered the mystery, commotion erupted at the entrance, and a group burst in.

"Hey, you little brat! Who told you to run away? You want to die that badly? If you don't meet today's quota, I'll report you to the research head and get you punished with mana absorption! Got it? The rest of you, hurry up! We're switching to double shifts today. Fail to meet the numbers, and you're all dead! Understand?"

The one shouting was none other than Alpoi. A mage dangled from his grip, flailing helplessly. On his left arm, Alpoi wore an armband with a sinister design: a branding mark chained in a circle.

Ghislain blinked at the unfamiliar armband, then asked incredulously, "Alpoi...?"

"Oh, Lord Ghislain! You're back?"

Alpoi's demeanor had transformed. He now radiated a rough and intimidating aura, a stark contrast to his former self.

Behind him were five other mages, each wearing similar armbands, though theirs were blue while Alpoi's was orange.

They were the very mages Ghislain had first brought from the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower and made into slaves.

These men, in his absence, had started wearing armbands and wielding informal authority like a rogue faction.

Ghislain stared at the scene, then exhaled slowly.

"These lunatics..."

Alpoi's dramatic transformation and the rise of this "armband squad" were unexpected developments. Clearly, he had a lot to unpack.

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