Chapter 745

Chapter 745

"As you know, I am Ian Hope," Ian replied curtly, quickening his pace. "Then I wish you and the other mages a safe return."

His tone and gaze were not merely indifferent; they were cold. By the time he finished speaking, he had already looked away.

He did not even ask why Delmir had come. It was a clear invitation to leave.

It wasn’t merely because he disliked mages. He was certain the old man would not retreat so easily.

"I shall do so, Your Grace." As expected, Delmir bowed again without the slightest sign of offense.

If anything, he was excessively courteous.

"Forgive my boldness, but might this old man beg for a small measure of your precious time?"

Without slowing, Ian answered, "If you have business, take it to my representative."

"There is an order to all things, and we have yet to properly offer our formal gratitude on behalf of the Tower. I humbly ask for your generosity," Delmir replied smoothly.

"

Hmm

." Ian passed him, as though weighing the matter, then said without turning, "I must prepare to depart, so I cannot sit and converse at leisure. If that does not trouble you, follow."

"Thank you. That is more than enough. I have no desire to inconvenience you in the slightest." Delmir fell into step at once.

A sycophant

, Ian thought, not even glancing back.

Then again, that very temperament was likely why Olaf had kept him close, and why the Tower had dispatched him to Travelga.

Creak—

After only a few steps, Nasser, who had hurried ahead, opened the door at the end of the hallway. Holding it in place, he turned back to them. His face, unlike usual, was solemn. It wasn’t merely because he was putting on the act of a loyal retainer.

Though Ian and Thesaya were the exceptions, as a Purifier and a pure devotee, he despised mages by nature. Even now, if Ian gave a single word, he would slit Delmir’s throat with a smiling face, without a flicker of hesitation.

"I will guard the door, Your Grace." Nasser bowed as Ian approached.

Ian gave a brief nod and passed through.

"I’ll remain as well," Thesaya said politely. She likely meant he would remain outside and listen in quietly, but Ian didn’t object as he stepped into the spacious room.

A large bed stood to the left, a broad dining table to the right. It had once been Olaf’s bedchamber.

𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Now, of course, Ian and Mev’s belongings lay scattered here and there.

"Sit." Ian turned and gestured across the table, where his new armor pieces were neatly arranged.

"Yes, Your Grace," said Delmir.

Mev moved ahead of him, setting a tin goblet on the indicated spot as Delmir approached with his staff.

She poured wine into the goblet, then circled the table to stand opposite Ian.

"This way, Your Grace."

She picked up the breastplate and backplate resting on the table. Ian shrugged off his fur cloak and tossed it onto the bed before stepping toward her.

"I have heard that had it not been for Your Grace and the Crimson Legion, the mages would not have escaped death," Delmir said as he stood before the chair, both hands resting on his staff.

He bowed slightly. "On behalf of the mages of the Red Magic Tower, I offer our sincerest gratitude, Your Grace."

Standing with his back to Mev, Ian spread his arms slightly. "I accept it willingly. Though I did not fight to save mages."

Mev began fitting the armor onto him at once, her hands careful and deliberate, as though Delmir did not exist at all.

In truth, to her, he was not.

"To have formed a council, and even to appoint Her Highness as your representative, such a decision is unprecedented in the history of the North. Your Grace will surely be remembered as a demigod who chose not to reign."

Ian’s lips twisted faintly. "That is enough praise. Get to the point."

"I speak sincerely... but very well," Delmir answered readily and at last took his seat, setting his staff at an angle against the table. The crimson crystal embedded at its tip was revealed.

"As it did in Calbrook, the magic tower has long cooperated actively for the stability and peace of the North."

Without even touching his goblet, Delmir continued in the same impeccably polite tone.

"And should Your Grace permit it, we stand ready to do our utmost in the future as well."

"Granting permission is not difficult," said Ian, leaving himself to Mev’s hands as she fastened the armor.

Then he turned his head slightly toward Delmir. "So long as there are no other conditions."

"I would prefer that to be the case. But regrettably, I cannot demand sacrifice and service from every mage of the tower." Delmir bowed his hooded head.

Ian let out a low scoff. "You do take your time in saying that there are conditions."

"I don’t intend to be unreasonable, Your Grace. I merely wish to request that the magic tower be accepted as a member of the council. As guardians of the North, do we not possess the qualifications?"

"And you would serve as its representative?"

"It would be the highest honor, though it need not be me."

Feigning embarrassment, Delmir cleared his throat.

"Also, as before, we ask that a portion of the military budget continue to be allocated to the tower. I am ashamed that our sincerity may seem compromised, yet the Tower cannot endure otherwise."

"I see..."

There it is, the true point.

That had likely been the core of Olaf’s close ties with the tower as well. It was hardly surprising. Every tower funded its research this way. With the sort of things they meddled in, Imperial subsidies alone would never suffice.

"That... will require some consideration," said Ian, raising one arm.

Delmir’s eyes flickered. Mev’s gaze sharpened coldly at once.

"Forgive my boldness, but the alliance with the magic tower is a tradition even sanctioned by the royal house—"

"There is no longer a Black Wall for us to stand against together, is there? And the archdemon that invaded the North has already been slain." Ian cut him off calmly.

As Delmir faltered, he added, "And I hear that each tower conducts dreadful, repulsive experiments."

"W-Who would say such a thing!" Delmir’s eyes widened as though they would split.

What Ian had just said was, in effect, no different from breaking an unspoken rule. It was more than enough to make the change in circumstances since the fall of the Black Wall feel real to the bone.

"As the Agent of that Great One, I cannot support such research."

"It is slander, Your Grace!"

Delmir lurched as if about to spring to his feet, continuing in a voice tight with barely restrained anger. "I cannot speak for what occurs in other towers, but at the very least, the Red Magic Tower does no such thing. I swear it in my name before the Radiant Goddess!"

Ian already knew the old man’s claim was likely true. In the game, the red mages had been the least corrupted of the lot, though the fact that most of them were arsonists was a problem in itself.

"I see... that may be so. Not every Tower has fallen." Ian nodded easily.

Determining the truth of it was not the important part. "But it does not change the fact that you abandoned Archduke Olaf and fled."

At Ian’s quiet finishing blow, Delmir, who had just begun to steady his breathing, froze.

"You were dispatched as his advisor. Yet when matters turned dire, you left him. And once everything was over, you returned quietly and attended my coronation. It is not an easy decision to clasp hands again with one who has already forsaken his lord. Nor to work with a tower that keeps such a man as an elder."

At last, utterly speechless, Delmir could only stare at Ian, lips parted slightly. From the look in his eyes, he had never once imagined Ian would know.

In truth, Ian himself had never cared to ask. He simply had a pointy-eared friend who enjoyed digging into other people’s business.

Clank... click.

Savoring the uncomfortable silence, Ian slid one foot into the steel boot Mev held out for him.

He laced his gauntleted fingers together once, then said, "It is true that many red mages fought alongside me in Calbrook, staking their lives. They would have died otherwise, yes—but they fought nonetheless."

He had driven Delmir into a corner. Now it was time to ease the pressure, just slightly.

"So if we are to work together in a manner different from before, I am willing to consider maintaining relations with the magic tower."

"Please elaborate," answered Delmir, barely regaining control of his expression. His eyes made it clear he wished to explain himself regarding Olaf.

Ian, of course, had no intention of granting him that opportunity and instead moved on. "You know how to inscribe spell circuits, I assume."

"You wish us to craft magical artifacts?"

"Artifacts, enchanted armors—whatever you like."

Watching the old mage’s brow furrow, Ian added casually, "Discuss the specifics with my representative. I promise that you will be paid a fair price, enough that you will not feel slighted."

"That is not the path we typically pursue—"

As Delmir faltered, Ian cut in lightly, "Why? Do you lack confidence?"

The old mage’s frown deepened. "Not at all. Contrary to common prejudice, we take great interest in enchantment craftsmanship. We already produce and use most of our magical tools."

"For instance, Scroll of Correspondence?"

At Ian’s offhand remark, Delmir nodded. "Of course. We are fully capable of crafting even the most complex enchanted items."

"Do you have a spare pair on hand?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Then bring me the largest pair you possess. If you wish to earn even the smallest measure of trust, that will suffice as a beginning."

Delmir, who had been about to answer immediately, hesitated. He picked up the staff leaning against the table as though it were a talisman and looked up at Ian.

"Then... you will continue to support and align with the Tower?"

There was resolve in his gaze. He wanted a clear commitment.

Mev stepped back as she finished securing Ian’s greaves. Ian rotated his ankles slowly, as if testing the fit, then finally nodded.

"As I said, the times have changed. From now on, funding will be granted according to demonstrable results. Naturally, it will fall within the council chair’s discretion to judge that. As for securing a seat for the Tower—that will be decided through deliberation, once sufficient merit has been accumulated." Ian said, without regard for the way Delmir pressed his lips tight.

After studying the troubled mage for a moment, he added, "Will you accept?"

At last, Delmir bowed his head. "The times have changed. It is only natural that we adapt. Internal discussion will be necessary—but I give you my word that we shall accept."

Fully armored now, Ian stamped his foot once and straightened, then jerked his chin. "Very well. Let us see the scrolls first."

"I will... fetch them at once..." Delmir rose with a sigh-laced reply, staff in hand. He had not touched the drink.

You’d call this a bitter pill to swallow.

Watching the expression on the mage’s face as he headed for the door, Ian suppressed a faint chuckle, testing the feel of his armor as he moved.

"Is anything uncomfortable, Ian?" Only after Delmir stepped out and the door shut did Mev finally whisper.

Ian nodded. "It fits well. I don’t think we’ll need to exchange anything."

"That’s a relief."

"Sorry. I barely lifted a finger."

At his added remark, Mev smiled. "It’s fine. I know. You were doing that on purpose, pressing him down with authority."

"Thanks for understanding."

"This is part of my role. Don’t thank me or apologize for every little thing."

Ian smiled as well.

Their gazes met, softening as they lingered on each other, before the door opened abruptly.

"As expected. It’s so like you, Ian."

Thesaya strode in, Nasser following behind her.

Mev cleared her throat lightly and turned her eyes away, though her hand was adjusting Ian’s shoulder guard.

Thesaya grinned. "You really boxed him in and then opened just one path like a generous favor."

Ian merely shrugged.

Nasser approached the table with a quiet chuckle. "The look on his face as he left was quite something. I thought he might drill a hole through the floor with that staff."

"Of course. Spellcraft is what mages hate most. They consider it the realm of craftsmen. From the look of it, the Reds are especially like that," said Thesaya, hopping on the edge of the table.

Ian snorted faintly and began unfastening the armor clasps with Mev’s help. "They’re useless in a civil war. I can’t have them taking money for nothing."

"It’s rare for negotiations with a magic tower to go so smoothly. It seems Your Grace’s authority is quite something."

"Obviously, Half-Ear. Ian is the Northern Archduke with the strongest support since Karha. If they fall out of favor with him, even the proudest spellcasters will find their road ahead... unpleasant."

Ian shot Thesaya a sidelong glance. "When he comes back with the scrolls, take one to the Princess, Thesa."

"Should I pass along what you said, too?" Thesaya smiled as if she had been waiting for that. The way both her legs swung beneath the table made it obvious she was anticipating Seras’s reaction.

Ian nodded, chuckling. "Yes. Tell her to have them produce as many enchanted armors as possible. Use them to equip the defense forces."

"Sacred arms and enchanted arms together... That would give us a force rivaling the Central elite troops. Given enough time," said Nasser, gathering the scattered items around the table.

It was precisely the picture Ian wanted. Though, of course, circumstances were unlikely to allow them such leisure.

"If we’re going to squeeze them properly..."

Thesaya’s eyes took on that distinctly fairy-like gleam as she continued, "Then we should delay accepting them into the council for as long as possible. Once they secure a seat, they’ll start doing the bare minimum."

"Good point. Pass that along as well." Ian’s smile deepened, hands still busy with the armor straps.

Thesaya’s giggle faded as she turned her head. "Oh? Already coming ba—no, that’s not him."

Ian looked toward the door as well. Just as she said, hurried footsteps were racing down the hallway toward them.

"Done!

Hehe

!" Miguel burst through the door, laughing boisterously. "The High Priestess has granted permission! It took some convincing, so don’t you go back on your word now!"

"Fine. Just go and prepare to leave." Under Miguel’s overly eager stare, Ian tilted his chin as if reluctantly conceding.

"Got it! I’ll grab my things and be right back. Just wait a bit!" Miguel nodded vigorously, spun on his heel, and dashed out the door as abruptly as he had entered.

Nasser, still holding a bundle of clothes, let out a soft laugh. "I wonder if he’ll still be smiling like that once he learns where we’re headed."

"Right? Let’s tell him as late as possible." Thesaya replied, her smile lingering as she turned toward Ian. "Since the group’s slimmed down again, how about we all sleep together tonight? It’s been a while."

Ian, now back in light attire, met her gaze. A mischievous smile spread across her lips.

"It’s more convenient if we’re leaving at dawn. What? Don’t tell me you were hoping to spend your last night alone together?"

"T-Thesa! What are you saying?" Mev, who had been organizing the equipment, jerked her head up in shock. Her ears flushed red almost instantly.

"Why not? It’s true I’ll miss it," said Ian.

Mev whipped around to stare at him, then squeezed her eyes shut as her entire face turned red.

Ian suppressed a smile and finally looked away. "That’s enough laughing. Get back outside. The spellcaster’s coming."

Nasser and Thesaya exchanged glances, then shrugged in unison before heading out.