Lucy Mayrill (1)
There isn’t much to say about what followed.
Lortelle murmured to himself as he blankly stared into the void. As planned, the Sage’s sealed scroll was purchased by the Elte Merchant Association. The scroll almost got lost in transit, but it was quickly secured in its entirety thanks to the faster-than-expected subjugation of Professor Glast.
After all the negotiations ended, it was simply dismissed as an incident.
“…”
Lortelle Keheln let out a deep sigh as he sat in the merchant association’s reception room.
The sealed scroll, now his property, floated above the desk. The resonance procedure was completely finished, and Lortelle Keheln had officially become the scroll’s rightful resonator.
“Indeed… The sensation of resonating with magic power is considerably intense.”
He possessed not even a grain of knowledge about stellar magic.
The benefits Lortelle Keheln could receive as the scroll’s resonator were, at most, a slight enhancement of his magic power resonance. He could potentially invoke greater spells proportional to the mana within the scroll, but that would hold little meaning unless one had a deep understanding of various magics like Professor Glast.After all, the product was purchased for resale; it didn’t have much significance. While not particularly fond of investments tied up in such risky items…
“Anything… Hmm… Anything…”
Lortelle was now in a position to demand something from Ed, though Ed Rothtaylor might have forgotten. Having acquired the scroll, he could ask something of Ed.
Although it was meant to be resold, Lortelle had also committed a significant sum, considering the opportunity costs and risks associated with it.
“But really, can I actually resell this to that Crebin fellow?”
Judging from Ed’s reaction, he seemed to wish the scroll would never pass to Crebin. Lortelle felt a lingering uncertainty in his heart about whether to proceed with the transaction.
“…”
Suddenly, Lortelle swallowed dryly.
Lately, he’d been spending more time contemplating Ed, a development he wasn’t comfortable with.
On one corner of Lortelle’s desk were the formulas given by Ed and the list of materials requested. He had even drafted a contract proposal, though it hardly favored the merchant association.
Lortelle began to sense the gravity of the situation.
The time to separate personal feelings from business was approaching.
A yearning for companionship had followed Lortelle throughout his life, but recently he’d been unable to maintain the line.
Born with the makings of a great female merchant, Lortelle Keheln must not lose his cold, calculating gaze, always weighing his interests.
“Yes… Perhaps I need to become more ruthless…”
Lortelle’s eyes flitted to the contract that was to be signed with Ed.
“… Just this once.”
Despite believing in his motto that one should not put off till tomorrow what can be done today, Lortelle postponed his decision yet again. It was a regrettable choice.
“And besides…”
With no further business decisions pending and all documents reviewed for the day, what remained were romantic concerns.
Yenika Faelover, oblivious to danger with her head in the clouds, seemed to feel no urgency. However, Lortelle, sharp and cool-headed, sensed a subtle alarm.
Although he had seriously pondered the lazy magician who’d been increasingly clinging to Ed Rothtaylor… he doubted Yenika would reveal a girlish side.
Despite repeated reviews and conclusions, an unease lingered in his heart.
He feared a triggering event might suddenly alter their relationship.
But what could motivate such an indolent girl? Even the shocking death of Professor Glast had not changed her; she continued to amble sleepily on the rooftop of the academy building. It didn’t serve as a catalyst.
They say pivotal events come without warning, but it hardly seemed likely that a maiden so stoic would be moved easily.
As much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t definitively decide whether it was the truth or merely self-assuasion.
Such is the human heart; matters are rarely concluded cleanly.
* [ Name: Ed Rothtaylor ]
Gender: Male Age: 17 Grade: 2 Race: Human Achievements: None Strength 12 Intelligence 11 Dexterity 13 Willpower 12 Luck 9 Detailed Combat Abilities ]] Detailed Magical Abilities ]] Detailed Domestic Abilities ]] Detailed Alchemy Abilities ]]
“Ed Rothtaylor, it seems you were present at the scene once again.”
Dean McDowell.
Despite an appearance sturdier than his gentle nature, with a bristly beard and old-fashioned glasses draped carelessly on his face.
As the de facto ruler of Sylvania Academy—second only to Obel and Rachel—he oversaw most of the institution’s daily affairs and had the last word on academic matters.
“You’ve been involved in every major incident within the past year: the Glascan incident, the Ophelius Hall standoff, and now the theft of the Sage’s scroll. Quite a string of bad luck.”
My name has been linked to each significant event at the academy.
To anyone, I’d seem suspicious, though no evidence exists of any wrongdoing.
On the contrary, during this incident, I was a victim, having been kidnapped by Professor Glast and narrowly escaping danger.
There’s no need to panic, nor is there reason to flaunt.
Calmly, I recited just the facts.
“That is correct.”
“The details are mostly known, but could you explain exactly what happened?”
“There’s nothing more to say beyond what’s been reported. For unknown reasons, I was kidnapped by Professor Glast. If there were an opportunity for escape and help, I took it, which led me to run into Taely and his group.”
There’s no need to mention Elte’s task force infiltrating the island, after overcoming the sea and cliffs, or Professor Glast’s fate in the Northern Woods.
“That’s all there is to it. Yenika and Lortelle came to assist urgently.”
“… So you left Aila, who was also kidnapped, while escaping alone?”
“Aila was incapacitated and did not trust me at all, so I chose to exit alone and seek help. Taely is the one I encountered in the process.”
“…”
Dean McDowell listened intently to my story with closed eyes.
Although something seemed off, my narrative was consistent. It matched the information he had received without contradictions.
He wasn’t giving me a suspicious look. Instead, he appeared more like an observer genuinely listening to a story.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling unsettled, knowing my involvement in significant affairs wasn’t merely coincidental.
Simply explaining my situation across the sofa to clear suspicions wasn’t enough.
But without hard evidence, suspicions had their limits. I was clearly a victim in this case, and any misstep by Professor Glast could only be attributed to neglect on the academy’s part.
Eventually, Dean McDowell’s words became predictable.
“You’ve had a tough time. The academy should do something for the affected student; the mental stress must be considerable. Thus, I’ve given it quite some thought.”
He reviewed the scattered papers on his desk again: my student record, assessments from teachers, and a summary of various activities.
“To be honest, I’m suspicious of you.”
That’s how Dean McDowell is. Once he’s sure there’s no further point to discuss, he turns straightforward.
He was the same during our initial meeting when he ultimately admitted he had no intention of expelling me.
“Though you act oblivious, I feel you know much more.”
“Such high praise. Thank you.”
“That same artful behavior of yours.”
Dean McDowell’s eyes closed and opened firmly once.
He holds ultimate power in the academy’s administration but remains essentially a middle manager, unable to escape his role beneath the principal and vice-principal.
However, he is always principled, acting on core values when hitting those limits.
“But… That’s merely my personal skepticism. Regardless of what anyone says, you are a student affected by the academy’s oversight. The same was true during the Ophelius Hall case and now.”
“…”
“The student life itself lacks anything to criticize too. You’ve concentrated on your studies quietly, receiving praise from TAs and staff as an exceptional student. Your previous problematic record has been replaced by more favorable reviews.”
McDowell flicked through the documents briskly before placing them back on the table.
“With such impressive academic improvement and having quite surpassed the troubles of your entrance exam, there’s no more reason to dwell on responsibility. Moreover, the academy sees a need to compensate you somehow…”
He finished with a kind tone.
“Ed Rothtaylor, it truly seems you’ve strived hard in your life. That’s something I cannot deny.”
“…”
“The academy does not intend to neglect such a student. Surely, you deserve some recompense.”
To my surprise, Dean McDowell’s gaze was free of distrust or malice, instead offering what seemed an expected correct response from a dean to a student.
“You’ll be granted permission to reside in Lortelle Hall, one of the academy dorms, and you won’t have to pay residence fees. However, there’s no current vacancy, so you’ll need to stay in Dex Hall until the next semester.”
It seemed he had some idea about the living conditions I’ve been enduring.
“No more a life of miserable wandering for you, Ed. You are entitled to a normal student’s life.”
*
Leaving the dean’s office, I crossed the corridor and headed out. Yenika, who had been lounging on a lobby bench and staring at the ceiling, noticed my departure.
“Ah, Ed! You’re out! How was it? All okay? They didn’t scold you, did they? No rough treatment?”
“I’m the victim. Why would they do anything to me?”
“Yeah, guess you’re right.”
With the tall, magical towers collapsed, the crisp autumn sky was clear once more.
Less than a day had passed since the chaos, leaving the academy staff busy with damage assessment and repair; morning classes were canceled accordingly.
The all-night crisis management was nearly over, and it seemed this was to be my final sit-down regarding the situation.
I hadn’t had a proper rest, nor had I washed or changed clothes, so I looked a mess.
Seeing me, Yenika sighed deeply, seemingly distressed by the day’s events.
“You’ve been through a lot, Ed. What a mess this has turned into.”
After his funeral rites were duly performed, he would probably be buried in the land of his birth. Since one cannot hold the dead accountable, the case would be closed just like that.
Under normal circumstances, he might have been a great scholar who departed this world blessed by the Order’s high priestess, but now settling for this much seemed adequate.
At least he didn’t seem to have lived a lonely life, so that aspect was somewhat comforting.
Professor Glast’s secret research lab had been temporarily closed. The academy staff had investigated the interior but didn’t find anything particularly unusual. With the soul library buried in fragments looking like mere ruins, it seemed they had no intention to intervene further. I should be thankful to Lucy for having smashed it thoroughly.
Since the event was a disgrace from the academy’s perspective, they’d want to conclude it quickly.
As a result, if the academy’s interest faded away, the contents of the library would be mine alone. While it was certainly a pleasing prospect, it didn’t bring unadulterated joy. A tinge of bitterness was natural.
Sorting out these thoughts, I eventually reached the camp.
– Whoosh.
The place had somehow become like a home to my heart.
I recalled the makeshift wooden shelter hastily constructed when I first found myself adrift here, and the cabin built during the summer break, along with various survival tools, the fire pit, and logs and stumps lounging around as makeshift chairs.
The net that stretched over and was left hanging now served as a hammock, and next to it, firewood piled for the winter was neatly stacked in the open-type log store.
“Phew…”
It seemed an uninvited guest had found their way here again—a tiny mage with a gigantic witch’s hat lay atop one of the logs, puffing breaths contentedly.
She was the kind of girl who could pop up anywhere at any time, but it appeared she now considered this camp her private napping spot, which was amusing yet slightly irritating.
This is still my camp, right?
I treaded over and opened the cabin door. Inside, it was filled with furniture I had made or received from Lortelle.
Seeing the cozy interior, complete with a fireplace, brought a sense of satisfaction.
I dragged out a wooden chair and placed it beside the fire pit, collapsing onto it.
Though it was still daytime, a crisp chill hinted at the need for warmth, so I lit the fire with a spell—firewood lay scattered nearby.
– Chirp chirp.
– Pitter-patter.
– Zzz Zzz.
Closing my eyes, I soaked in the restfulness—the chirping of sparrows, the sound of the river flowing nearby, accompanied intermittently by Lucy’s breathing.
There was a pile of tasks waiting. Laundry needed washing, food supplies checking, and I had to prepare for the finals starting in a couple of weeks. The next semester’s tuition fee required some serious thought.
That wasn’t all. There was still plenty left in the scenario to run through. During the vacation, there would be placement tests for new students, the upcoming student council president election, and Taely’s additional Sword Sanctity event.
Yet, all I yearned for at that moment was rest.
I let my imagination run wild, thinking of what life would be like if I moved into the Dex hall. Although my notorious reputation had mostly waned, some students still held a poor perception of me. Addressing misunderstandings with them was overdue.
Without the daily rush to hunt, meals would be served in the cafeteria, and there would be no need to hustle, just a leisurely walk to the professor’s building.
Focusing solely on academics and occasionally greeting scenario characters, just checking that things were running smoothly and enjoying a peaceful life—that was the plan.
How had camp life been?
Utterly laborious, but upon reflection, it started feeling more stable recently.
Having acquired a decent cabin, food supplies had stabilized somewhat. Money, albeit meager, allowed for some comfort items to be purchased. It no longer felt like constant struggle.
If anything, the hardships had been thrown at me all at once in the beginning of the term. Now, I felt acclimated to just about anything.
Moreover, this camp granted me freedom from curfew, allowing a relatively independent schedule from academy life and the liberty to act alone late if needed. It was an environment well-suited for crafting, cooking, and physical training.
Personally, I harbored aspirations to fortify the fence, cultivate annual edible plants, and reinforce the cabin. Long-term plans to survive in this forest had all been laid out.
Was it all in vain?
Such thoughts surfaced, but I was fully aware of how precious living in a stable environment was. One realizes the value of having a home and food only after losing it all.
Living at the Dex hall with peers offered its own charm.
Needless to say, it was a dilemma.
“Should I really move to Dex hall…?”
I quietly mulled over the words.
“So, is this camping life coming to an end…”
– Whoosh.
– Thump!
Just as I uttered those words, the sound that followed was Lucy suddenly pushing off the ground and propping up her upper body with vigor.
“?”
Turning my head towards Lucy, the person I thought was soundly asleep had her eyes wide open, staring right at me like she had heard something she shouldn’t have.
I could only shrug and ask what was wrong, meeting her puzzled look.
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