Dark Fantasy Normalized

64 – The Honorary Magician of the Magic Tower

“Tsk… do even paper calendars break down?”

I woke up today and checked the calendar, and I was completely stunned.

How did more than a month already pass, just like that?

I mean, since I was appointed as a wizard of the Gray Tower.

In the meantime, absolutely none of the things I’d originally hoped for in my [Things To Do as a Tower Wizard★♥] list had been accomplished.

Like, checking how citizens’ attitudes change depending on whether I’m wearing the tower robe or not.

Or dramatically throwing on the robe like a magic pass when someone tries to pick a fight.

Those kind of rewarding, thrilling things.

‘Why are there so many things I wanted to do?’

Unlike what I expected, I’ve been in a whirlwind of busyness since becoming an honorary wizard.

It’s not the fault of the Gray Tower.

So many requests for handshakes from the Blue and Green Towers and the clergy before they left the tower.

Coupled with those things, the Gray Tower was going out of their way to be extra-kind to me.

-As an honorary wizard of the Gray Tower, are there any things I should be aware of, or mental attitudes I absolutely have to maintain?

-Things to be aware of. Absolutely!

-Ugh, more memorization. What is it?

-You should be aware that we are proud of you!

-What.

-Act with the mindset that our tower is your mirror!

-You said it backwards, though.

-Oops! Did I say that? That you are our tower’s mirror? I’m sorry for saying such a presumptuous thing!

-No. You said the tower is my mirror.

-Oh, then I said it right.

-…

Our Ricir, do whatever you want.

That was the overall stance of the gray wizards towards me.

I’m very grateful, and secretly I think it’s the best thing ever, but if I just eat it up without thinking, it’ll be a perfect way to ruin myself.

I must not forget.

The fact that their assessment of me is excessively inflated.

The Gray Tower is treating me like I’m some kind of greatest genius ever, maybe even a blasphemer of the gods.

But the reality?

Magically, I’m a greenhorn who hasn’t even grasped the basics, and socially, I’m just a newbie who’s shed my b*stard status and grabbed a new business card.

If I let my brain melt from all the head-pats and do whatever I want, I’ll be broke in no time.

So, right after my appointment, I spent my time learning the proper conduct befitting an honorary Magic Tower mage.

The history of the Grey Tower, its external standing, things to be cautious about, how to carry myself—that sort of stuff.

And whenever I had some free time, I took some time with Lord Meltas to solidify my magic fundamentals.

Maybe it’s because I already absorbed it through experience.

The process of accepting the theories and filling the gaps wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared.

This morning, too, I was taking a magic lesson, thanks to Lord Meltas’s kindness.

“Lord Meltas. Thank you once again for taking the time to do this.”

“Do you know what the Masters have been saying about this lately?”

“Ugh. Whatever it is, I’m already sorry.”

“They’re denouncing me for hogging you. We almost had a trial over it.”

“Oof.”

“Anyway, the point is. You have no reason to thank me. There’s a carriage full of people who want a piece of you, and I, as one of those people, am greatly rewarded by this opportunity.”

“Lord Meltas, you’re truly a model for all scholars. You suddenly remind me of my master.”

“Ahem. I’d rather you not talk about your master in front of me.”

“Please don’t act like a jealous childhood friend. It’s hard for me, really.”

“Tsk, how impertinent—Anyway, I’m curious. If this master of yours taught you this material, how would they have gone about it?”

“They’d probably have me spar with Moomoomi-senpai.”

“…I can’t even imagine what kind of lesson that would be.”

As the time I spent learning from Lord Meltas began to surpass the time I spent learning from my master, I, too, began to feel a fair amount of doubt.

Now.

Who’s the real master?

But the doubt didn’t last long.

What mattered wasn’t how much teaching I received, but what I received.

When I was truly nothing.

It was my master who was first to acknowledge me and reach out a hand.

If it wasn’t for my master, I wouldn’t have even realized my potential, or made it this far.

On this point, Lord Meltas agreed, even bringing up how he’d initially looked down on me as a b*stard.

– *Hnngh… Still, I’m confident I could’ve done it better…*

I quickly decide to forget about the jealous reaction my childhood friend had in the midst of all that.

And so, class began, and about an hour passed.

– “Teaching the basics to Rishir? Is there anything more wasteful?”

– “No, there isn’t. If it were me, I’d start by-“

– “That’s good, but if it were me, I would have-“

Masters, who just happened to notice us while passing by, gathered one by one, forming a circle of spectators and pressuring Sir Meltas.

It was both a spectacle and a mess, seeing those masters, who should be respectable, acting like possessed old-timers from a park, nitpicking and giving unsolicited advice at every turn.

Sir Meltas tried his best to ignore them, organizing the class’s content.

“Alright, since it’s noisy around here, let’s stop here for today. Oh, right. Rishir. Don’t forget what I just said. The back alleys of Bondales in the north have become unsettling lately, so be careful if you have to go there.”

“Understood.”

“And, I repeat, I respect your decision to build your foundation again, slowly and from the basics. You’ve probably felt it already, with overloads and other things, but the path you’re about to embark on is incomparably more difficult than what you’ve gone through before.”

“Indeed it is.”

“Even you won’t be able to breeze through it like before. Always maintain the same humble beginner’s mindset you have now. Dare I say, if you don’t, even you-“

“Ah, Sir Meltas, sorry. Just a moment-“

That was while I was listening to Sir Meltas’s advice, which was becoming the meat and blood of my being.

I frowned immediately at the untimely interruption.

“What is it?”

“My mana is trying to increase again. Just a sec, I’ll use Blue Breath to settle it. This darned mana, if I leave it like this, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“…”

“Ah! Sorry for making you wait. Please continue with what you were saying.”

“…No matter what others say, don’t be swayed, and follow your own path, is what I was going to say.”

“Huh? That’s a bit different from what you just said-“

“Quiet. Just take it as that.”

*Hoo.*

Sir Meltas let out a sigh deeper than when he was being tormented by the park duelists.

“That mana growth. Didn’t you say it was a side effect of using the normalization power?”

Sir Meltas, bewildered, asked me.

I answered with an even more bewildered face.

“You tell me. It seems there’s something else going on that I don’t know about.”

Here’s the translated excerpt, maintaining the tone and line breaks:

I’d barely gotten a grasp on responding to the villains’ normalization.

This is practically a full-blown seizure, what’s the difference?

‘Could it be that? The normalization that already happened, is affecting other places, causing a chain reaction—’

When I shared that possibility, Lord Meltas just went. *Huh.* *Huh.* *Huh.* A deflating sound.

“Lisir. Do you know? For your information, it took me 60 years to get here.”

“…I’m sorry.”

I felt compelled to, so I deeply bowed my head in apology to Lord Meltas.

It was winter.

***

And another week passed.

‘I wonder if Pien and Rona are doing okay? They’ve been so busy, haven’t shown their faces lately. Well, it’s not really my place to talk, me being stuck in the magic tower and all.’

My life in the tower was still so hectic that I didn’t even have the time to step outside and meet with my comrades.

But, it wasn’t all downsides.

‘Damn. It’s comfortable. It’s great. The tower’s free room.’

Ever since the Gerhen incident.

I was still staying in the tower’s lodging, provided by the tower itself.

This space, prepared for masters and honored guests, was definitely better than the lodgings I’d had in district 9 before.

Even more so because it was free.

If I had my way, I’d set up camp here permanently.

But who am I?

A dude who knows what shame is. That’s what makes me cooler.

I couldn’t just rely on the tower’s generosity to maintain a basic standard of living forever.

The students pay tuition and focus on their studies.

The masters make academic achievements and bring actual profit to the tower.

If I was going to call myself a true member of the tower, I couldn’t just take the rights my comrades had struggled to earn for granted.

In other words—

‘I can do it, right? Earn my keep.’

I couldn’t produce results through study like the students, nor make academic achievements like the masters.

Was there any way that I, too, could contribute to the tower?

There was.

***

The Magic Tower, nestled within a city teeming with all sorts of self-serving factions, couldn’t be a completely independent institution.

To ensure its own safety and continued existence, interaction with the outside was unavoidable.

The most prominent issue was, of course, money.

The Magic Tower.

In other words, it was a money-guzzling monster.

The research and facility maintenance costs of the tower were astronomical.

Tuition fees from the students weren’t enough to cover it all, so the tower resolved its financial problems through various means.

There were those whose interests aligned in this regard.

The tower, overflowing with prestige and power, yet lacking funds.

Merchants and lower nobles, lacking in prestige and power, yet overflowing with funds.

They maintained good relations with the tower by sponsoring it with vast sums.

The tower became their patron of power, and they became the tower’s patron of wealth.

Polda, leading a mid-sized merchant guild, was one of the tower’s sponsors.

Polda, whose influence failed to keep pace with the rapid growth of the guild’s wealth, became a sponsor of the tower.

Money that would have been picked apart by the city’s nobles and criminal organizations anyway! Better to just give it to the tower!

That must have been the calculation.

Even the city nobles and criminal organizations, who expertly picked the pockets of others inside and outside the city, would need to be prepared to mess with the tower’s sponsors.

For example, this was it.

The Magic Tower was offering a “Who hurt our sponsor?!” service to its patrons.

It was a means of survival for the tower, which pursued scholarship as a form of the art of killing.

Of course.

As much weight as the name Magic Tower carried, the circumstances under which assistance was provided to sponsors were strictly limited.

1. The situation must not be political in nature.

2. The situation must not be aggressive in nature.

3. The situation must absolutely require magical assistance.

Polda judged that his current situation met all those conditions and came to the tower.

-The Red Box guys are holding our goods, and we can’t get a hold of them.

The Red Box were warehouse operators based north of Bondales.

It was an open secret that they were an unsavory group associated with the “Leather Chain,” a criminal organization that dominated the northern part of Bondales, yet many merchants still had to become their business partners.

Within Bondales, there were only a handful of groups offering storage to outsiders in bulk.

Take the risk and deal with the red crates.

Or get utterly fleeced by the city’s nobles, no problem.

In this hellish either/or, the merchants’ choice was practically set in stone.

-I’d like to go directly to their place and hash things out, but I’ve heard the atmosphere over there’s pretty grim lately? So, with all due shame, I’m seeking the Mage Tower’s aid.

Polda’s request was simple.

‘Come with me to talk with those difficult b*stards and give ’em a little menacing glare.’

The Mage Tower deliberated.

Did Polda’s request have a political nature?

No.

Then did it have an aggressive nature?

No.

Did it require magical assistance?

-I know the warehouse where the goods are stored. There’s a barrier put up there, and in case of an emergency, I’d like to be able to break it and retrieve my goods.

Yes.

And so the Mage Tower decided to offer its patron the ‘Who the hell touched our patron’ service.

I volunteered.

***

“I’m Rishir, the honorary mage of the Mage Tower, who’s responsible for resolving this issue. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“…Pleasure to meet you, too.”

Polda met the young mage’s outstretched hand, smiling warmly.

‘You gotta be kidding me?’

That was just on the surface, though.

Polda was recalling all the donations he’d made to the Mage Tower so far.

Not enough to throw his weight around at them, but certainly enough to be treated well, he figured.

At the very least, they’d send a proper mage – that was Polda’s expectation.

But what the hell was this.

‘An honorary mage?’

It sounded pretty good.

But the man’s impression.

‘He’s cute, I guess—’

A youthful face, not a wrinkle to be seen.

Right. He was far too young.

As far as Pold knew, a mage of his age, at best, would barely reach the 4th Circle.

Nowhere near a full-fledged mage.

What could be the reason for a mage like him to receive an honorary title from the Magic Tower?

More dishonorable reasons came to mind than honorable ones, and that couldn’t be just a feeling.

Pold thought of Kal, the head of the Red Box, and his underlings.

They were called warehouse employees, but really…

They were practically mercenaries.

When he’d thought they’d protect his goods, they had felt so reliable,

but looking back now, he wondered how he could have trusted such a bunch with his stuff.

Pold envisioned the worst-case scenario.

Could the young mage before him handle that?

“…”

He couldn’t picture it at all.

This kid, subduing those vicious mercenaries.

From the start, having a kid like this, pretending he’s a Magic Tower mage by his side, seemed like it would just cause problems that wouldn’t otherwise exist.

They’d certainly know the implication of storming a business with a Magic Tower mage in tow.

‘This is driving me nuts.’

What should he do?

While he was worrying, they arrived at the 13th District, where the Red Box’s business was located.

The atmosphere of the run-down district.

The faces of those walking along the unpaved street, riddled with filth, were filled with lawlessness.

The young, handsome mage’s features shone particularly brightly in this place.

If he hadn’t been wearing the grey robe of the Magic Tower, he’d have been bothered a long time ago.

“Let’s go.”

Yet still, with a carefree attitude, with not even the slightest hint of tension on his face, Licheur stepped forward.

“Ah, uh…”

Pold, fidgeting anxiously, followed behind him.

The place he stepped into was a dive, tucked away in a back alley of District 13.

Kal, the head of the Red Box, spent most of his time here, one of the businesses he owned.

“…”

A man with a shaved head and a large scar sat in a corner booth of the empty bar.

Kal.

He was checking ledgers, a mountain of coins piled on the table before him.

“…”

He recognized Paulda, his gaze shifting in his direction.

No greeting was offered.

For a man who’d taken goods and ghosted the calls, he sure had a lot of nerve.

In fact, he was now openly displaying his displeasure at Paulda.

Anyone would think Paulda was the one who’d skipped out with the goods.

Maybe that’s exactly what Kal thought.

That Paulda was here to take back what was now *his*.

Otherwise, there was no way he’d have ignored all of Paulda’s calls.

‘Damn it.’

Paulda fought down the intimidation and got to the point.

He wanted the goods back that he’d paid to store in his warehouse—

A perfectly logical and reasonable request.

“Not now.”

A completely illogical and unreasonable response.

“What do you mean ‘not now!’ I’m a paying customer using your storage! This isn’t a request, it’s my due, and you’re obliged to fulfill it!”

“Hey, customer. We got our own stuff going on, you know? If you come at us like this, it’s gonna be a problem for us.”

Kal glared at Paulda.

Then his gaze slid over to Rishir.

A grey robe.

And a youthful face.

Heh.

A nasty smirk twisted his lips.

“Brought yourself a real scary fixer, did you?”

“…”

Polda’s expression twisted openly.

The only thought in his mind right now was this:

If a proper, official mage had come, the situation wouldn’t have escalated like this.

“Looks to me like you came here intent on finishing things, with no regard for our circumstances—well, we’ve got our own ideas too. Hey.”

Kal kicked one of the table legs.

A clatter.

Those filling the tavern rose from their seats, surrounding them.

“You’re out of your minds. Seriously, you planning on messing with a mage from the Magic Tower?”

“No way. We’re just making a polite request. Leave while you still can.”

The situation Polda had feared had straightforwardly unfolded.

Lishir’s easygoing attitude had even created problems that hadn’t existed before.

Those low-down mercenaries were trying to intimidate a Magic Tower mage?

Then.

Lishir stepped forward, speaking to Kal.

“I am Lishir, an Honorary Mage from the Gray Magic Tower, here to mediate this issue. May we have a word?”

Polda screamed inwardly.

Stepping forward in this situation?

Is he out of his mind?

Sure enough.

Kal scoffed, letting out a derisive laugh.

*Thump!*

He slammed his fist on the table threateningly.

The booming sound subsided, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence in its wake.

“Lishir…”

It was then.

His eyes blurred, belatedly savoring the name.

“…!”

He scrambled to his feet and gestured towards the seat he had just occupied.

“L, Lishir-ssi! Ah, please, have a seat!”

It wasn’t just the knife.

Everyone in the place was bowing their heads toward Lishir.

“…?”

What the hell.

What the hell is going on?

‘Lishir? Am I the only one who doesn’t know that name?’

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[The target is under the dominion of incantation]

[The target is under the dominion of incantation]

[The target is under the dominion of incantation]

[The target is under the dominion of incantation]

[The target is under the dominion of incantation]

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