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Chapter 261: Days of the White Tower (2)
“Sorry.”
“…….”
At the sudden apology, those amethyst-bright violet eyes stared at him intently.
Oscar didn’t look away and continued speaking.
“I promised I’d be back after a hundred nights, and I was far too late, wasn’t I?”
“…….”
After a brief silence he nodded.
“Yes, you were certainly late. You might want to relearn how to count days.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”
“……fine.”
There was an oddly sulky air about him.
Oscar sensed it.
‘He’s sulking already!’
Which was understandable.
From the other person’s perspective, feeling betrayed would be natural.
“Ah, just so there’s no misunderstanding: I don’t sulk. I’m not a child.”
“……of course.”
How could he lift the knot of resentment in this fellow’s heart?
Oscar thought for a moment, then spoke.
“The new world is amazing. And Sydney—wasn’t that the flower you used to raise?”
“…….”
Lloyd merely nodded slightly.
“To think you taught yourself magic and can stand toe-to-toe with the Red Tower Master at your age. Your talent surpasses mine.”
“……It’s not that much.”
“No, really — that’s exactly right about you.”
The violet eyes slid over his face, as if confirming sincerity.
Lloyd’s expression softened.
The arms that had been folded like a strong fortress relaxed.
“……There’s one thing I’m curious about.”
“Ask anything.”
Oscar leaned forward confidently.
A mage prepares; he had been pacing the hall to be ready to answer whatever question might come.
“Where do I rank?”
“Huh?”
“How many people know your identity — where do I stand?”
“Umm…”
This wasn’t a question from the expected set.
Flustered, Oscar quickly sorted through names in his head.
‘Those who know my identity are surely,
1. Silaphrion, King of the Wind Spirits, Spirit of Stillness.
2. Gordin, King of the Dwarves.
3. The Sage of the Stars.
4. Ado Vail, the White Tower’s first Tower Master and my second master.
5. Sasha, the youngest.
6. Edna.
7. His Majesty the Emperor.’
“…….”
Huh. That was more than he expected. Saying, “You’re eighth,” wouldn’t come easily.
Oscar cleared his throat.
“Of course you’re third. After Sasha and His Majesty, you’re next.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Spirits, dwarves, sentient remnants, dragons — those weren’t humans, strictly speaking.
“Third…?”
Lloyd’s brow creased slightly.
He sounded puzzled.
“What about Edna? Isn’t she someone who knows your identity?”
“She’s a dragon. She mustn’t meddle in human affairs, so exclude her.”
“Are there others you’ve excluded that way?”
Sharp kid.
Quick on the uptake.
Oscar neither confirmed nor denied.
He simply lowered his eyes and smiled wryly.
“…Yeah, I get it. It’s hard to believe someone who couldn’t even keep one promise.”
“That wasn’t the point of my question. Of course I believe you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. If I don’t believe my master, who would I believe?”
“Thanks for saying that. Anyway — you’re the third person who knows my identity.”
Third.
The rank pleased Lloyd; he chewed the idea over slowly.
“Third… I see.”
“Oh, and before I said that, you were actually the first to deduce my identity on your own.”
In fact Silaphrion, the Sage of the Stars, and Master Ado had deduced it earlier.
But telling Lloyd he was first made him finally grin a little.
“I was the first…?”
“Yep, you’re the first. Honestly I was surprised. It’s never happened before.”
“Sorry if I surprised you.”
“No, being perceptive is nothing to apologize for.”
With the conversation reaching that point, Lloyd’s sulky face became docile.
“Anything else you want to know? Like how I came back to life?”
“I’m not curious.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“You were the greatest mage in history. Of course resurrection would be possible for you.”
“……what?”
What did this kid imagine him to be?
Oscar smiled awkwardly.
Lloyd looked at him with a gentle smile.
“You told me before: ‘Welcome home.’”
He looked at Oscar and returned that soft smile.
“I’d like to say the same to you. Master, welcome home.”
“…….”
That greeting made Oscar smile for no reason.
Before it got awkward, he stood.
“Let’s go.”
“…Where?”
“To the Tower Master’s chamber.”
By now Sasha would be pacing and eager for the outcome.
* * *
Oscar looked at the three before him: Sasha, Lloyd, and even Edna.
These were everyone in the White Tower who currently knew his identity.
‘Huh. Seeing it like this…’
He felt a little reassured.
Two level-8 mages and a dragon — with that backing, no force on the continent would dare ignore the White Tower.
“Phew, I’m glad the talk went well,”
Sasha breathed in relief.
Lloyd gave her a sidelong look and said,
“Try not to act too much. It makes it too easy for enemies to see through you.”
“Oh, today I’m just not in it! I’m normally a great actor!”
“How curious. To be out of practice for twenty-six years and still have poor performance.”
“Hey, Edna!”
“Yes?”
“Am I really that bad at acting? Be honest.”
“If judged by normal human standards, you’d score about an eight.”
“Wait, really?”
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Sasha looked astonished at the surprisingly high score.
Lloyd asked quietly,
“What’s the scale out of?”
“One hundred.”
“That’s impossible!”
Sasha, who got a terrible 8 out of 100 for acting, refused to accept reality.
Oscar watched with a fond smile.
‘Brings back old memories.’
Back then, simply watching his pupils play would make time fly.
“……Now if only I can find Gilliot.”
At his mutter the noisy room fell silent.
Three pairs of eyes turned to him and he apologized.
“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”
In the awkward pause Lloyd asked,
“Sasha, since the subject came up — why did Gilliot leave the White Tower?”
“How would I know? At best I only know the rumors.”
She pushed out her lips.
Apparently Gilliot had one day taken the grimoire Wind of Ruin and left the Tower without a word.
“Wind of Ruin… It was violent enough, but its destructive power was extraordinary,”
Lloyd said, rubbing his chin gently.
“Oscar, why wasn’t Wind of Ruin listed among the High Spells?”
“Oh, about that….”
Oscar answered with a slightly awkward expression.
“I don’t even know which spell you call ‘Wind of Ruin.’”
“Huh?”
“What do you mean?”
Sasha stammered, wide-eyed.
“If it’s a White Tower spell, don’t you know all of them?”
“If it’s a well-known High Spell, of course I’d know it.”
But Wind of Ruin was not a High Spell of the White Tower.
That made it understandable that he didn’t know everything.
The Tower’s records were vast; it would take decades just to read them all, so claiming to know everything was impossible.
“All right. Since we’re on the topic, let’s take a look.”
Oscar breathed magic into the records Edna had returned to him.
A vast archive floated up like a projection.
“Wow… is all this really White Tower material?”
“Yes. The centuries of history the Tower compiled that we reclaimed from beyond the Red Range.”
Oscar moved his hands busily.
The bright screens shuffled until one floated up.
“Found it.”
‘Wind of Ruin.’
Oscar scanned the entry quickly.
“Hmm.”
He winced and made a short sound.
Lloyd asked cautiously,
“Are you all right?”
“It’s not great.”
“Why? What is it? Is it bad?”
“Both — there’s good news and bad news.”
Sasha and Lloyd exchanged looks and answered in unison.
“Tell us the good news first!”
“Start with the bad news.”
“…….”
Typical responses based on personality.
Oscar looked at Sasha and said,
“Since you were a bit quicker, I’ll give you the good news first.”
“Thank you!”
“First, Wind of Ruin is indeed a formidable spell.”
The record said exactly that.
Whoever could master this spell at will would be unbeatable under the heavens.
“Isn’t that an exaggeration?”
Sasha asked.
“No.”
Oscar shook his head.
“These records were written by the Tower’s previous archmage. That means they were verified.”
More importantly, the record listed the spell’s original wielder.
“Ain Rudrigon.”
“…Ain Rudrigon? I’ve heard that name before.”
Lloyd narrowed his eyes and muttered; Oscar replied,
“He was Ado Vail’s right hand when the White Tower was first founded. He was like Ado’s shadow.”
“Oh — you mean deputy tower master?”
“Exactly.”
Their surprised faces showed they understood how significant that made the spell.
If it originated with such a noble figure, the mystery deepened: why wasn’t it listed as a High Spell?
“Simple. That grimoire is banned.”
The word banned made everyone raise their eyebrows.
No one in the room didn’t know what that implied.
Edna asked,
“Oscar, aren’t banned grimoires supposed to be kept from leaving the Tower?”
“That’s right. They’re normally kept in the deepest vaults.”
“Kept” was almost a euphemism for “sealed.”
Banned books were dangerous: learn them wrong and you could be ruined or driven mad.
Oscar looked at Sasha.
“You said that grimoire was ‘found by accident,’ right?”
“Yes. The big man remembers too?”
“Yes. He said Gilliot picked it up while walking in the corridor.”
“……I suspected as much.”
Oscar nodded.
“…When the demons attacked the Tower, the protective wards around that banned grimoire must have weakened. The book chose Gilliot as its new owner.”
Banned grimoires don’t let just anyone learn them.
They’re picky; the book chooses its master.
If someone not chosen tries to learn it, they become a wreck.
“Then maybe Gilliot realized the book’s nature…”
“Quite possibly. In this situation, I’d even expect he did.”
As Gilliot advanced in mastery of Wind of Ruin he would come to understand its nature.
At that instant, two choices would present themselves.
“One: tell everyone and reseal the book. Two: devote yourself to attaining mastery of the spell regardless of becoming a wreck or even dying.”
It seemed Gilliot chose the latter.
“No way. Why would he choose such a dangerous path…?”
Sasha murmured, pale.
Lloyd bit his lower lip so hard it bled.
“…It’s probably because of me.”
He bowed his head deeply.
“Gilliot left not long after the two of you came to the Red Tower, met me, and left.”
“No way.”
“He’s the kind of person who will do it if he decides to.”
Moreover, at that time there wasn’t a single High Mage in the Tower.
What would Gilliot think was most needed in that situation?
“That foolish fellow must have dug into the banned book to become a High Mage himself.”
If he succeeded it would be amazing; if he failed he’d be nothing but a burden.
Oscar closed his eyes tightly.
Perhaps Gilliot left the Tower intending the world to think him dead rather than return as a broken man.
“If he failed, maybe he thought it better to die outside than remain a cripple inside.”
“Then… is the Little Brother dead?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Oscar’s face was not bright.
Nothing appearing so far meant only that he’d failed to show up — which suggested failure to attain mastery.
‘Gilli…’
Even if he’d become a wreck, that would be better.
Even if he were reduced to an ordinary person who could never use magic again, that would be okay.
Just, please, stay alive.
For the three of them, that was all the prayer they could offer.
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