Chapter 28
The Mage of the Abandoned Warehouse (1)
White Eagle Citadel was smaller than Wintersteel, but it was still a gateway city.
That meant the city’s general operations revolved around the military.
The same was true of its administrative office.
It was called an administrative office, but a look inside revealed clerks busily handling military duties alongside their regular work.
And among them was Licia, officially an administrative clerk but also responsible for dealing with mercenary petitions.
Because of her bright orange hair, her parents had called her their “golden girl” since childhood and showered her with affection.
She had grown up happy and carefree, befitting the daughter of such exemplary parents.
...At least until she began working as an administrative clerk.
She had first taken her seat filled with enthusiasm and energy.
Raise our wages.
Give us additional supplies.
The alcohol tastes terrible.
Is this all the meat we get?
They behaved as though they were her masters.
Some even made absurd demands, asking whether they could receive loans, establish gambling houses, or have an entire red-light district opened for them.
After two years, two phrases had become habitual for her.
“That’s simply how it works.”
“That requires authorization from my superior.”
The golden girl no longer existed.
All that remained was the venomous face of an administrative clerk tormented by endless petitioners, who drowned her sorrows in beer every night.
Her colleagues felt sorry for Licia as she steadily became one with alcohol.
After all, mercenaries were creatures who operated according to an entirely different standard of common sense.
They did seem to have eyes, however, because plenty of them came to make themselves known to the prettier clerks—especially Licia—while giving her suggestive smiles.
‘It would be one thing if they at least dressed neatly before trying.’
Instead, they arrived with greasy hair, bushy beards, and the stench of sweat, blood, or alcohol hanging over them—sometimes all three.
“Hehehe.”
And when they grinned, they revealed gaps between their teeth.
It was as though they had all sworn an oath beneath the heavens to look exactly alike.
Whenever she rejected them with an awkward smile, mysterious stacks of complaint letters would pour into the secretary’s office the following day.
Licia’s spirit grew increasingly exhausted amid the endless stream of obnoxious petitioners.
The petitioner who came to see her today, however, was different from the usual rude mercenaries.
Very different.
‘He’s unlike anyone I’ve seen here before.’
At the very least, his first impression was far more polite and cultured than those mercenaries who approached her with lines such as, “So, young lady, you’re the one in charge of petitions? Heh-heh.”
‘He’s also remarkably handsome.’
The dreary administrative office seemed to brighten around the petitioner before her.
“Hello.”
At the sound of a clear, pleasant voice, Licia turned away from the brief conversation she had been having with the colleague beside her.
“Are you perhaps the clerk responsible for petitions?”
Was he a young man?
No, a boy?
Perhaps something between the two.
Whatever the case, his courteous manner immediately improved Licia’s mood.
“...Excuse me?”
“Ah... Yes! I’m Licia, the clerk who also handles mercenary petitions. You are a mercenary, correct?”
Licia had unintentionally introduced herself.
Well, it probably did not matter.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m glad I found the correct place. I was told that I needed to come here to apply for a change of residence. The Special—no, an acquaintance told me yesterday.”
He had definitely come to the right place.
Licia clenched a triumphant fist inwardly.
Yes, if she had to remain trapped in this dreary place during the prime of her youth, then at least men like this should visit frequently.
That was how the world ought to be.
“Then please begin by filling out this document.”
The petitioner politely accepted the form with both hands.
Who was he, and where had he come from?
He did not have a face suited to mercenary work.
No, no. Prejudice was dangerous.
She had heard that even nobles sometimes worked as mercenaries these days. Could he be one of them?
Despite the thoughts blooming wildly inside her, Licia maintained an outwardly calm appearance—for now.
After diligently filling in the blank spaces, the petitioner raised his head and handed her the document.
His luminous green eyes were striking.
Kaspar Hauser.
Licia repeated the name written on the document in her mind as she read through its contents.
“...Huh?”
While examining the form, Licia rubbed her eyes.
Had she misread it?
The words remained unchanged.
She raised her head and looked at Kaspar.
“You want to change your residence to District Nine? That’s the Old Quarter.”
White Eagle Citadel was divided into nine districts.
Generally, the larger the district’s number, the more dilapidated its buildings and the gloomier its streets became.
“Yes, I mean the Old Quarter.”
“You do realize that you’re currently staying at an inn in District Three, correct?”
“Yes, I do.”
Was he playing some kind of trick?
Mischievous men occasionally behaved strangely in an attempt to attract her attention.
Her gaze sharpened slightly as she examined Kaspar’s expression.
“...Hmm.”
That did not seem to be the case.
Obnoxious people and attention seekers usually revealed themselves through their expressions alone.
At the very least, the boy before her did not belong to either category.
He genuinely wanted to move to District Nine.
“It isn’t really my place as a mere administrative clerk to question the contents of your petition, but excluding District One, where the nobles live, and District Two, where the wealthy reside, your current district is the best area in the citadel. The lord assigned those lodgings for the convenience of the mercenaries. May I ask why you want to give them up and move into a high-crime area filled with criminals and vagrants of unknown origin?”
This was not like Licia.
She knew that herself.
Even she could not recall another time when she had delivered a lengthy speech urging a petitioner to reconsider.
“I’m curious.”
Feeling awkward about her own behavior, she unnecessarily pressed him for an answer.
Compared with her long-winded question, Kaspar’s answer was remarkably simple.
“Because of magic.”
“Ma...gic?”
“I’m extremely satisfied with my current inn, but it’s too cramped for magical research. I’m also concerned that I may inconvenience other people.”
“Ah.”
“So when I searched for a spacious place with as few people nearby as possible, the Old Quarter was the only option.”
After hearing his explanation, Licia nodded.
“Understood. Please wait a moment.”
What more was there to say when a mage wanted to conduct magical research?
‘...Come to think of it, didn’t I hear a complaint last night that part of the second floor of an inn in District Three collapsed?’
Tilting her head, she retrieved a thick map from the bookshelf behind her and spread it between them.
It was a map of the Old Quarter.
She then began explaining the relevant terms of the contract.
“There are fifteen ownerless buildings in District Nine. If you intend to practice magic, dilapidated buildings and wooden structures probably won’t be suitable, so eliminating seven leaves eight options. You know that the outermost edge of District Nine is off-limits, correct? If you live too far from the citadel gate, it could interfere with military mobilization orders. That eliminates another three. You may choose from the five remaining buildings.”
The contract in question involved the obligation to provide accommodation.
White Eagle Citadel was obligated to provide suitable housing to mercenaries bound to it by mutual contract.
“As you know, it isn’t entirely free. But since this is District Nine, don’t worry too much about the price. Just choose whichever place you prefer.”
Kaspar bowed his head.
“Thank you for the detailed explanation. You are very kind, Miss Licia.”
“...What? Ah... Well... Hmm.”
Licia twirled a strand of her long hair.
“Tell me once you’ve chosen.”
Kaspar’s finger moved across the map before stopping at a particular spot.
“I’ll take this one.”
Licia narrowed her eyes when she saw where he was pointing.
“This is an abandoned warehouse... I know I told you to choose freely, but this place is rather unsuitable.”
“I don’t mind.”
Kaspar had slept countless times using the monastery’s stone floor as a bed.
An abandoned warehouse did not seem particularly different.
What mattered more was securing a spacious location where he could freely manifest and experience magic.
The spells he intended to experiment with from now on were the kind that would cause serious problems if others witnessed them.
He could vividly recall Allen’s smile after paying the repair bill for the inn Kaspar had damaged the previous night—and it had not been a small amount.
It had been quite a strained smile.
“I truly don’t mind.”
“All right. I’ll help you move in immediately. I’ll speak with my superiors and see if we can provide you with some basic bedding.”
She could feel her colleagues staring holes into her from every direction.
Why are you suddenly behaving like this?
Since when were you so helpful?
Licia remained completely unapologetic.
Why?
Was there something wrong with it?
It was not as though she had to be irritable all the time.
“And I’ll prepare both the occupancy agreement and the eviction order here so that you can move in immediately. Please wait a moment.”
Kaspar tilted his head slightly at Licia’s words.
“Eviction? Didn’t you say the building had no owner?”
***
An abandoned warehouse in District Nine.
Situated in a remote corner of the Old Quarter, the building was surrounded by iron bars and had cold stone exterior walls that gave it a bleak, desolate atmosphere.
As Kaspar entered, people who had been sprawled around after a hard day’s work began rising from their seats.
“What the fuck did this bastard just say?”
They carried broken bottles and knives.
The warehouse already had occupants.
They were hardworking people who lived each day to the fullest and remained grateful for whatever they earned.
Today, as always, they were diligently attending to their livelihoods.
For example, several men were seated around a table in the corner, tallying the contents of the pockets they had picked that day.
Others were busy slamming merchants who had refused to pay protection money against the floor until their faces were covered in blood.
Kaspar showed these industrious people the document in his hand.
“Therefore, I would like all of you to leave now.”
They were struggling desperately to survive in this cold, unforgiving world, only to receive an abrupt eviction notice.
Those damned officials gave them nothing and did nothing but extort taxes from them. Now they even demanded that these poor people surrender their precious home.
“Um... Excuse me, but you don’t pay any taxes, do you?”
The group facing Kaspar split apart.
A bearded man emerged from their midst and spat on the floor.
“Hawk—ptooey!”
“Wow, what the fuck? So you’re telling us to get out right now? Because we don’t pay taxes? You son of a bitch... We’re not leaving just because you told us to. No, we refuse.”
“Of course, I am not merely asking you to leave.”
Despite the menacing atmosphere, Kaspar remained entirely unconcerned as he continued reading the document.
“First, you occupied this ownerless building without permission or filing a report, and you have not paid a single coin of the rent owed to the lord of the citadel. Furthermore, you illegally organized an armed group. In addition to pickpocketing and robbery, you have extorted money from honest merchants under the pretext of collecting territorial fees and protection money. Consequently, the administrative office commissioned me to evict you and escort you to the castle because of the harm you have inflicted upon the surrounding community.”
The gang members, who had been listening in stunned disbelief, grew increasingly hostile.
“I will repeat myself. You will not simply be leaving. I will now restrain you and escort you to the castle. If you surrender peacefully—”
“You crazy bastard!”
“Die!”
“You want force? We’ll give you force, asshole!”
Kaspar watched the gang charge toward him with murderous momentum and slowly tucked the document into his clothes.
“If that is what you prefer.”
Bloodvine Feast.
Crack!
The cold, dust-covered stone floor split apart and shattered like pottery. Enormous vampiric roots erupted in every direction.
The enraged mob rushed Kaspar while hurling vicious curses.
“Force, you say...”
“Aaargh!”
“What the hell is this?”
“Magic! It’s magic! That bastard’s a mage!”
The roots snared the gang members’ legs and surged toward the ceiling.
The men dangled upside down, spewing curses, but Kaspar did not so much as blink.
At that moment—
Whoosh!
Something struck at Kaspar with a sharp sound of displaced air.
Hummm.
However, the barrier Kaspar had erected beforehand blocked the incoming projectile.
“...?”
“You little bastard.”
It was the bearded man.
The vampiric roots around him had been torn into pieces and scattered across the floor.
“Boss!”
“You’re dead, asshole! Our boss is a mage too!”
“Boss, get us down! Let’s destroy him together!”
At the gang members’ shouts, Kaspar turned his attention back to the bearded man.
“A mage... Are they telling the truth?”
“Why the hell would they lie, bastard?”
The bearded man fluently recited an activation phrase.
Crackling energy resembling electricity flowed from his fingertips, forming a faintly glowing whip.
“Force Whip. A terrifying spell that tears apart anything it strikes.”
The bearded man looked Kaspar up and down before giving him a vicious grin.
“Hehe. Prepare yourself. I’ll smash that smooth little face of yours into a bloody mess and make you sob.”
The gang members hanging from the roots erupted in cheers.
***
“Ahm... shorry.”
The bearded man knelt and sobbed, his face smashed into a bloody mess.
“I didn’t recognize your greatness and acted out of line.”
All his former bravado had disappeared. Now he begged in a pitiful state.
‘Tsk...’
Kaspar clicked his tongue inwardly.
The bearded man had been a decent teacher.
Kaspar remembered reading about the magic he used. It consisted of faintly glowing energy and belonged to the force-field category.
Although its magical patterns appeared somewhat loose, they had allowed Kaspar to experience the pleasure of learning a new spell once again.
It had been such a gratifying encounter, yet Kaspar was clicking his tongue because—
‘He gave up too quickly.’
Honestly, it was bewildering.
Kaspar had expected him to display perseverance like Jerpet and Sael.
He thought the man would continue attacking without pause, burning with the unique desperation of someone driven into a corner.
Taking his initial bravado into consideration, Kaspar had even increased the severity of his attacks as a sign of respect.
‘Did I push him too hard?’
An appropriate amount of pressure could draw out everything a person possessed, but excessive pressure would instead make them surrender.
From Kaspar’s perspective, he had shown reasonable restraint.
From the bearded man’s perspective, however, some monstrous child had relentlessly beaten him with every imaginable spell.
Naturally, his spirit had been crushed.
“Um... May I ask your name?”
“Have you... no conshience...?”
“Pardon?”
“D-Dodikan... My name ish Dodikan. I’ll never... challenge you again, sho please... spare my life.”
“Yes, Mr. Dodikan. No, this isn’t like you. You can still do it. Please don’t give up.”
“It’sh Rodikan...”
“Yes, Mr. Dodikan. That spell you used earlier—what was it? Force Missile? It was incredibly powerful. I was deeply impressed. If it had struck my unprotected body, I would probably have been blown apart. So please don’t remain on your knees. Believe in your own potential and stand up again.”
Realizing that his inner thoughts had accidentally escaped his mouth, Rodikan hurriedly covered it.
Kaspar tilted his head but soon resumed his encouragement.
“Please use every spell you know. Who can say? Perhaps one of your spells will reveal a weakness even I don’t know I possess.”
Dodikan—no, Rodikan—was dumbfounded.
What was this boy talking about?
Was he even human?
He had almost died?
Rodikan had once studied under a mage before eventually fleeing, so he understood the fundamental difference between their abilities.
Not even a speck.
He had failed to inflict even a speck of damage.
The spells he had cast with all his strength had not left the slightest scratch on that damned shield.
Yet Kaspar claimed he had almost died?
And his name was Rodikan!
But with his face swollen and mangled, even pronouncing his own name correctly was difficult.
At that moment, Rodikan noticed something behind Kaspar.
His subordinates were quietly creeping closer.
The sight ignited a spark of hope in Rodikan’s chest.
‘Perhaps...’
The boy was a monster.
Despite his young age, he possessed an unbelievable degree of power.
Rodikan’s desperate spells had failed to leave even the smallest blemish on his shield.
But he was still only a mage.
There had to be a limit to his mana. He could not maintain his shield forever.
What if they took him by surprise?
A dagger thrust from his blind spot at close range would be especially deadly to a mage, who was naturally weak in close combat.
The corners of Rodikan’s mouth rose.
‘Perhaps this could work.’
He staggered to his feet.
“Very well, you arrogant mage...”
This was his opportunity.
He had to hold Kaspar’s attention.
His subordinates had finally done something useful, creating this priceless opening for him.
Rodikan spread his arms in a grandiose pose.
“In that case!”
Mana began concentrating around both his arms.
Rodikan muttered something beneath his breath.
“Ooooh! Boss!”
“You can do it, Boss!”
Hope illuminated the gang members’ faces.
Rodikan’s eyes gleamed as he prepared his decisive spell.
Kaspar’s eyes gleamed as well.
***
Ten minutes later.
Kaspar looked upward with a calm expression.
“I am about to begin a simple experiment. If any of you feel as though you’re about to die, please tell me.”
Instead of answering, the gang members silently looked at the bearded man hanging beside them.
On second thought, calling him a bearded man was no longer entirely accurate.
He was closer to an unidentifiable mass that had been beaten half to death.
“I promised to deliver all of you alive.”
The moment Kaspar finished speaking, another cluster of roots erupted from the ground.
The terrified gang members recoiled as the tips of the roots embedded themselves in their bodies.
Shhlk.
“Aaargh!”
“Aaaaargh! What is this?”
“Get them out! No, please take them out! Lord Mage, we’re sorry!”
Kaspar scratched his head.
Had his explanation been insufficient?
“It’s all right, everyone. I already told you that I would deliver you alive. There’s no need to worry. I’m merely going to test how much blood each individual root can absorb. I absolutely will not kill you.”
Kaspar did his utmost to explain kindly and reassure them.
The gang members, roots embedded in their bodies, turned deathly pale and struggled desperately.
“B-Blood?”
“Aaaaaaargh!”
“Mom, I’m sorry! Mom, I’m sorry! Mom—!”
Despite Kaspar’s kindness, everyone’s screams echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse.
Throb.
Throb, throb.
Throb, throb, throb.