Chapter 48 - Magic Symposium (1)

Countess Xenonia stared blankly ahead. Before her, Marquis Philvoid—the leader of the aristocratic faction, whose political power could not be ignored—was bowing his head to Count Pallatio.

'What...?'

Before forming the Sword Faction, Countess Xenonia had operated primarily in the underworld, but that did not mean she knew nothing of current politics. House Xenonia had also profited by deftly moving between competing factions.

No, even if she had never been involved in politics, this sight would still have been shocking.

As a rule, politically powerful nobles never bowed their heads to others. In the underworld, people might bow to someone's face and stab them in the back to get what they wanted. Noble politics, however, placed such importance on legitimacy, higher causes, and prestige that they would never behave that way.

Here, where those things determined almost everything, bowing to someone meant handing them far too much leverage, both internally and externally.

'How...?'

Countess Xenonia looked at Count Pallatio. Despite receiving what amounted to Marquis Philvoid's declaration of total defeat, he showed not even a hint of surprise—as though he had foreseen this moment all along.

An involuntary thrill tingled through her fingertips, and a smile formed on her lips.

'He really is incredible.'

Of course, she had no idea what Count Pallatio had done to extract such a declaration from Marquis Philvoid. Frankly, she could not even imagine it. But what mattered to her was the power itself, and she could only regard him with admiration.

'... What's going on?'

Alon himself, meanwhile, was staring in bewilderment at Marquis Philvoid's deeply bowed head.

"..."

Silence.

... Not that Alon was keeping quiet by choice. He had no idea what had happened either and was simply trying to make sense of the situation.

'Did I do something?'

He racked his brains, forgetting even to chew the financier in his mouth, but soon shook his head. No matter how hard he thought, he could remember doing nothing of the sort. He had been far too busy to do anything to Marquis Philvoid in the first place.

'... Did a rumor get around?'

Naturally, Alon began considering other explanations.

'Come to think of it, rumors that I'm close to Seollang seem to have started spreading lately.'

He recalled that Duchess Altia and Countess Xenonia had known about the rumors spreading from Coloni, but soon discarded that theory. Judging by the deference the other nobles had shown when greeting him, the rumors certainly seemed to have spread. Even so, it made no sense for a marquis to bow his head over Seollang alone.

After examining one theory after another, only one conclusion remained.

'... What the hell did these two do?'

Alon glanced at Countess Xenonia and Duchess Altia, who were gazing intently at him. Even with his ignorance of politics, he knew how absurd it was for the head of a faction to bow like this. As he stared blankly at the pair...

'... Ah.'

He remembered that the two women behind him were originally destined to become two of the Kingdom of Asteria's three masterminds.

'... I'd better be careful.'

Just as Alon finished that train of thought...

"I truly have lost...!"

Marquis Philvoid, the leader of the aristocratic faction who had never before bowed his head in public, bowed still deeper and begged forgiveness.

He felt not the slightest shame or anger. Instead, fear filled the face of the bowing marquis.

The reason was a letter he had received a few days earlier, shortly after Duke Limgrave had abruptly received a letter of correction and been dragged off to the Holy Kingdom.

It had contained very little: one small magic orb and a single line of text. Yet that small orb and that one-line letter had been more than enough to send a chilling terror through Marquis Philvoid.

For the single-use orb that stored video had shown...

["A-aaahIreallydon'tknowanythingI'msorryI'msorry—"]

Less than five seconds of a terrified Duke Limgrave, bound to a stark white chair, trembling as though someone had pressed a button to trigger a seizure, and begging forgiveness.

After the recording ended and the orb crumbled apart, the remaining letter bore these words:

[You're next.]

Just that one line.

But that alone was enough to terrify Marquis Philvoid, and he had little difficulty guessing where this backlash had come from.

'Count Pallatio...!'

He had no idea how Count Pallatio could have connections in the Holy Kingdom more powerful than the cardinal they had bribed. But that was not important.

What mattered was that Duke Limgrave, who had joined him in trying to bury Count Pallatio, had suffered the backlash, been dragged to the Holy Kingdom, and ended up half crippled. And Philvoid had been chosen as the next target.

... Had he not received that letter, Marquis Philvoid would never have bowed to Count Pallatio. Receiving a letter of correction could certainly cause serious political trouble, but unless one had actually allied with heretics, it posed little threat to one's personal safety.

Yet Duke Limgrave had suffered this fate despite having no ties to heretics. That made it highly likely that Count Pallatio had instigated whatever had left the duke so utterly broken.

Unwilling to be dragged to the Holy Kingdom and share the duke's fate, Philvoid had finally bowed beneath the unrelenting terror.

"Please—!"

Then he went beyond bowing, dropping to his knees and prostrating himself on the floor. It was a desperate, wholehearted struggle that laid bare his desire to abandon his political career, retire cleanly, and live out the rest of his days in one piece.

At that sight...

'Incredible...!'

'That's the count for you...!'

Countess Xenonia and Duchess Altia looked at Alon with admiration.

'... Impressive. What on earth did they do?'

Alon, meanwhile, regarded the two women with a faintly uneasy expression.

In the end, that day...

"... I'll take it into consideration."

After muttering words even he did not understand, Alon left the ballroom beneath everyone's gaze.

The incident neatly dispelled the suspicions that had lingered since the Sword Faction's founding: that Count Pallatio might merely be a figurehead allowing Altia and Xenonia to operate freely.

####

About three days after the Grand Forum began, Alon left Biritium's territory and headed east. He was going to attend the magic symposium, which was effectively the real purpose of this journey.

Leaving the Grand Forum with roughly two days still remaining, he followed Riyan's letter toward Bluegill, a territory near the symposium. On the fifth day of that journey, Evan told him that Marquis Philvoid had received a letter of correction after all.

"So they dragged him off in the end..."

"What? Weren't you the one who sent it, my lord?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"... You've been with me this whole time. Do you think I had time to do that?"

"Well, that's true..."

After pondering for a moment, Evan spoke frankly.

"Lately, how should I put it... Looking at you, my lord, I get the feeling you're hiding something."

"Me? What?"

"Well... There's your magic, and all sorts of other things. Last time you said you weren't doing anything, and now you've suddenly become the head of a faction, haven't you?"

Alon considered the question with a thoughtful hum before replying.

"... Becoming its leader really was a coincidence."

"You can become a faction leader by coincidence...?"

"..."

Alon had only a moment to think that Evan had a point before the knight spoke again.

"Looks like we're almost there."

With Evan now wearing a relaxed expression that suggested he no longer cared either way, Alon arrived in Bluegill, a territory of the Kingdom of Ashtalon near the magic symposium. Not long afterward, he met Riyan at their agreed meeting place, together with the Red Magic Tower's mages.

"Hello, my lord."

"Good to see you."

Unlike last time, Riyan bowed demurely, and they headed straight for the magic symposium together. Since they had boarded a carriage immediately upon reaching Bluegill, they were able to arrive at the Central Tower while the sun was still up this time.

"Wow... That's enormous!"

Evan exclaimed in wonder the moment he saw the Central Tower. Alon, too, was impressed. He had seen illustrations of it countless times while playing Psychedelia, of course, but seeing it in person made an immense difference.

'... Isn't that taller than the LottX Tower?'

Unlike the game scenery he had seen so far, the existence of such a tall tower in this fantasy world left him inwardly overwhelmed. He stood looking up at it, comparing it with the enormous buildings he had seen in real life.

"It's really big, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"Let's head inside first."

Alon soon entered the tower with Riyan.

"As far as I know, on the first day the Green Magic Tower will present the new theory they've established. After that, there'll probably be a few friendly matches. And tomorrow—"

Alon walked farther inside, listening to Riyan's explanations.

"There are surprisingly few people here."

"Well, this isn't the grand symposium, after all."

"Grand symposium?"

"Oh, hadn't I explained that?"

Riyan launched into another explanation, and Alon soon nodded.

"So, in short, the grand symposium is one that all the tower masters attend as well."

"That's right. Because of that, there are always quite a lot of mages at a grand symposium. Though there are plenty at the regular symposium too."

As Alon nodded anew at this detail that had never appeared in the game...

"Hah... These idiots, seriously."

"What? That's going too far!"

"Going too far? If you can't understand even this much, you're idiots. Aren't you?"

A somewhat familiar voice and an angry one came from one side of the Central Tower. When Alon looked puzzled, Riyan sighed.

"Looks like someone has gotten into another fight with the Blue Tower's deputy master."

"... The Blue Tower's deputy master?"

"Yes. You probably know this already, but she's so full of herself. She's likely picked another fight, and now they're having it out."

Her words carried oddly blatant hostility. Recalling that she had shown a dislike for the Blue Magic Tower before, Alon was about to ask her about it, but...

"Hey! Let's go again!"

"Again, what, you morons? You think you can beat me? What, ten weren't enough, so you're going to bring twenty this time?"

"Hey!!"

Penia had emerged from the area used for friendly matches with a whole crowd of furious mages trailing after her. She walked along with an openly mocking smile, then paused.

"Hm?"

Spotting Riyan, she curled her lips into a broad grin.

"Well, look who it is! Aren't you the half-baked mage I thrashed last year without you putting up so much as a fight?"

It was a blatant provocation. Riyan scowled fiercely and glared at her, but Penia merely sneered, as though that glare were beneath her notice.

"What's this? Did you bring a friend this time so you could both try to take me—"

Her gaze naturally shifted to the right.

"Uh...?"

She froze.

"?"

Then her face turned deathly pale. Only moments earlier, her entire bearing had mocked everyone around her as worthless trash. Now she had stopped as though something inside her had broken. Riyan had barely a moment to look bewildered before...

"H-hello, sir...!"

"?"

At the words that emerged from the ashen-faced Penia, Riyan's expression went blank.

Polite speech.

For the first time in her life, she was hearing Penia use the respectful language she had thought the woman would never utter.

And then...

"It's been a while. Have you been well?"

"Y-yes, sir—!"

Outside mage circles, Penia was hailed as a once-in-an-age genius. Among mages, however, she was known as a once-in-an-age utter menace. Yet now she was answering like a soldier drilled to rigid discipline.

"???" "???"

Not only Riyan but also the angry mages who had followed Penia stood with their mouths hanging open, silently staring at Count Pallatio—the man who had accomplished this impossibility right before their eyes.