The Runesmith

Chapter 622: A Proposal.

“Ah, Deputy Professor Wayland, you’re here!”

“Good to see you, Master Anzeneus. I hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

“Nonsense, my good fellow. I have quite enjoyed my time here. Oh, and just call me Professor Anzeneus. We are among our own.”

The old white-bearded mage replied warmly to Roland’s greeting. His robe was different from before, yet it remained blue and bore the insignia of the magical academy where he taught. To Roland’s knowledge, this wizard served on the academy’s council of mages, which followed a power structure unlike the one here. The academy had no archmagus at tier four. Instead, it was governed by a council of high tier-three mages, and Anzeneus was one of them.

“I see. Is everything going well at the Sapphire Flame Academy?”

“It’s going quite well. The new batch of young fire mages has shown great promise. The future looks bright.”

Roland nodded. The Sapphire Flame Academy was the institution that both Anzeneus and the fourth Valerian brother had attended. From what Roland knew, Anzeneus was not a true Knight Commander but rather someone whose position had been bought, which made his loyalty less reliable than that of other knights. There was some flexibility in dealing with him and a chance to recruit him in the future if Arthur gained enough prestige.

‘I should get this over with…’

Although his new acquaintance could prove useful later, at the moment, the old mage was causing him some unease. The two were at Xandar’s Institute of Wizardry, where Roland sought access to several flame-related tomes. He had promised to put in a good word for Anzeneus with the Headmistress, but he was uncertain how she would respond. He had already invoked her name a few times, and while things had not gone badly, he doubted she would continue offering favors without expecting something in return.

“How peculiar. Is there something hidden from sight?”

Asked Anzeneus as Roland arrived with him near the base of the mage tower. To ordinary people it appeared to be nothing more than a tree, and the rest looked like a garden for the students. The fact that this old man could even sense the faint presence of high-level concealment magic said much about his knowledge of the arcane arts.

“Something like that. How about you wait here? I need to speak with the Headmistress first.”

“The Archmagus herself! How wonderful. Would there be a possibility of me coming along?”

The old man looked like an eager child asking for a favor, but Roland only shook his head.

“My apologies, but only the Deputy Professor is permitted inside the Archmagus Tower. Anyone else must be personally invited by the Headmistress.”

“I see. In that case, I’ll take a stroll through the garden.”

With those words, he took the usual path while the old man stared in astonishment as the hidden passage revealed itself. This was the home of the Headmistress, Yavenna Arvandus, known to some as the Lady of Thorns, though to him she only looked like an average elf with greenish skin and mossy hair. When he climbed the stairs again, she was already there at her desk, clearly expecting him and probably aware of the reason for his visit.

“Deputy Professor Wayland, you’re late.”

Roland stood before Yavenna Arvandus’s vast wooden desk. Her office, as always, was made of living plant matter. Bark covered the walls, and vines formed the drapes over the windows. The wooden floor creaked faintly under his armored boots as he replied in a quieter tone than usual.

“Yes, my apologies. There was an incident that delayed me.”

The Lady of Thorns sat motionless, her long moss-green hair flowing around her shoulders like branches. Her violet eyes scanned a few notes before turning to him with quiet intensity.

“Ah yes, Dragnis Island. I’ve heard about it.”

He was unsure how much she knew or how much she cared for his excuse, but it was true that he had missed a few lectures. According to their previous agreement, he would need to make up for his absence somehow.

“You’ve also brought a guest. Azure Flame Anzeneus was quite well-known a decade ago, and it seems he seeks something from me. Would you care to explain?” ŗÁꞐỐΒÈṢ

Roland exhaled slowly. Her voice was calm, yet the sharpness in her tone made it clear she already knew more than she let on. He straightened his posture before speaking.

“Yes. I met him recently and promised to share some of our knowledge. He is researching flame synthesis for flame magic amplification. During the incident, I sought his assistance and, in return, made that promise without consulting you, Headmistress. For that, I apologize.”

He lowered his head in genuine remorse. It was never wise to lie to a tier-four class holder, especially one capable of using magic. If she wished to extract the truth from him, she certainly could.

“By ‘our knowledge’ do you mean from my private library?”

“Yes…”

In reality, Roland had several options for how to handle the situation. According to their previous arrangement, he was permitted to study the books in the library, though he was not allowed to remove them. He could, however, read them freely and apply what he learned in his own research. Thanks to his excellent memory, he could easily reproduce the contents later, which would allow him to keep his promise to the old mage.

The main problem with this approach was the lack of consent from the owner of that knowledge. It was one thing to use what he had learned for his own benefit or for the Institute, but quite another to share it with a mage from a rival school. The magical academies often viewed each other as competitors, and assisting an outsider without permission from the intimidating archmage could cause serious trouble. Roland did not know what kind of relationships she maintained with other mages, so he decided it was best to proceed with caution.

“At least you are honest, but this was not part of our agreement, and you have failed to uphold your end of the contract. There is no real reason for me to accept this.”

Roland’s heart sank as he listened, but he did not interrupt. He knew he was in no position to argue. Only after she finished speaking would he present his case, as he had prepared a few things in advance that might calm her anger. One of them was additional information about the incident.

“Did I misjudge you? You do not seem like the type who would flaunt your position before others, but considering what happened…perhaps you did not have any choice, Deputy Professor.”

Her violet eyes glowed faintly as she leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. Initially, it appeared he would face punishment, possibly required to stay and deliver extra lectures or accompany students on road trips. However, the Headmistress suddenly nodded, as if reaching a decision, and spoke again in a more relaxed tone.

“How about this? I will forget that this ever happened, and you may even give your new colleague a book on the highest flame arts from my collection. I will overlook all those missed lectures, and you will be free to come and go as you please.”

Roland’s eyes narrowed behind his visor. The offer seemed too good to be true. The lectures were not unbearable, yet they demanded time, and teleporting from one place to another consumed considerable magical resources. He could not understand why she would allow him to alter the contract after he had already failed to meet its terms. This was unlikely to be a reward and more likely a punishment disguised as generosity.

“What do you mean by that, Headmistress?”

At this point, Yavenna smiled slightly, which made Roland even more nervous. He hadn’t known her for long, but he could already tell she was about to say something he wouldn’t completely agree with.

“What I mean, dear Deputy Professor, is that every boon carries its burden. You will receive permission to copy one of the restricted texts from my private library: “Flames of the young star’ but in exchange, I will require something of you.”

Roland did not move, though his instincts told him that this was the moment to be cautious. The wooden floor beneath him shifted slightly as he leaned on his right leg.

“I am listening…”

Yavenna folded her hands together, resting her chin atop them.

“The Quinquennial Arcane Institute Convocation is not far off. I would like you to participate in it.”

“The… Quinquennial Arcane Institute Convocation?”

“Yes, I’m sure you know of it?”

“Yes, I do, Headmistress. It’s a gathering between all the mage schools in the kingdom held every five years, but what do you wish me to do there?”

Roland was aware of this gathering of mages. If he had to compare it to something from his past life, it would be similar to the Olympics, involving not only the mage schools but also the knight academies. It was a large-scale event with various contests between schools and their affiliates. It took place every five years, and the winners received trophies and valuable resources as rewards.

There were many types of competitions. Some were races through magically shifting mazes, where participants had to reach a goal as quickly as possible. Others were magical battles between individual mages or teams of up to three. There were also sport-like events, some resembling those from his old world, such as precision spell shooting and long-distance racing. The difference was that the mages did not run themselves; instead, their magical mounts did. It was a massive event that lasted more than a week, and it seemed she wanted him to take part in one of the contests.

‘Oh great…’

For Roland, who still clung to a faint hope of hiding his identity, this was one of the worst possible outcomes. He would be forced to appear before other mages and the nobles who accompanied them. The competition was very popular throughout the kingdom and was held in different locations depending on the type of event. However, if participating meant he would be excused from giving lectures, perhaps it was worth considering.

‘But what does she want me to do? Take part in the mage battle gauntlet? Maybe the airship race?’

He was unsure what she meant, as there were so many competitions he could enter. There were no age restrictions, and schools could even bring in outsiders to compete under their name. The entire event had originally been designed to unite the mage schools, but over time it had become a way for them to rank each other. From what he knew, the Institute was somewhere in the middle, not particularly strong but not weak either.

“The Institute will participate in all major events this year. However, the one I am most concerned about is the Golem Battle. You are in the Runic Department, are you not? That makes you the ideal candidate.”

Roland blinked.

“The Golem Battle event, Headmistress?”

“Indeed.”

She smiled faintly as she placed her hands on the desk and rose to her feet.

“It is one of the central spectacles of the Convocation.”

The vine curtains drew back from one of the windows as she looked outside.

“There, mages pit their creations against one another. Constructs of mana, steel, or even flesh. It is both art and war, and this time I intend for our Institute to claim the title.”

He sighed inwardly, knowing there was more to come.

“You will also assist the faculty with the support items and the implementation of runic enchantments. In previous Convocations, our Institute always lagged behind others because we relied on mass-produced equipment. With your expertise, that will change. I am certain Professor Arion will offer his assistance. The Runic Department has been growing, and this is the perfect opportunity to prove its worth.”

“...”

“You may refuse and make up for lost time with additional lectures. However, if you agree, I will annul our previous contract, and you will be free to come and go as you please. The next Convocation is in twelve months, which should give you enough time to prepare.”

“Will I be exempt from participating in lectures until the competition begins?”

“I will allow that, but I will expect results. Nothing less than second place in the Golem competition and top three in the general rankings. You will be given a budget to work with, and once the term is over, we will begin preparations.”

“Top three…”

Roland began to think. He did not wish to remain a teacher at this Institute since it constantly disrupted his work. Twelve months was a long time, time he could use to strengthen himself, gain experience, and continue building and manufacturing new items.

In a way, he was intrigued by the competition. He had heard rumors about it. It was an event where magical golems were created and set against each other in battle. Most were built by dwarven craftsmen or through other forms of magical craftsmanship. There was a level limit for regular golem constructs if they were monsters or summons, but not for those made entirely from raw materials and assembled piece by piece. Such creations were considered items and examined only for their origin and age. The use of ancient relics of power was forbidden, as the contest was meant to test each school’s ability to create something of its own.

‘With the school’s help, I could try working on that project… Robert could probably use it, and it will validate the technology.’

He already had something in mind, though he was unsure whether it might cause problems later. Still, if he wanted to reach the top two or even the top three among the best schools, winning the competition would be his best path forward. His opponents would likely stick to conventional designs, and staying within the usual limits would make victory nearly impossible.

There were several directions he could take, but one in particular seemed far easier if he truly intended to win. Modifying a golem’s internal programming to adapt during combat was one option, but it would be much simpler to use someone already skilled in fighting as a substitute. That would leave him with the task of developing a large enough golem frame to handle everything. To his knowledge, there were certain size constraints on golems, which made this project quite feasible.

‘In the end, I am still part of this kingdom, so bringing some things forward might benefit both me, Arthur, and everyone else.’

Roland still hesitated to reveal his inventions, but keeping them secret was becoming increasingly difficult. His rune prosthetics were already starting to draw attention. It was perhaps better to present himself openly and gain the support of prominent nobles. Arthur could no longer protect him, but if people knew that he was backed by tier four class holders such as the Headmistress and Duke Alexander, no one would dare to interfere.

“Could I have some time to think this through?”

“Of course. Once you do, please inform me of your decision within two days.”

Yavenna replied, her violet eyes gleaming as if she already knew what he would choose.

“After that, the preparations must begin, and you will need to assemble a team. The sooner you decide, the more time you will have to shape your project.”

Roland inclined his head respectfully.

“Understood, Headmistress.”

“Good. You may go, and remember, if you wish to receive the book, you must agree to my request first.”

As expected, he was left without the book Anzeneus had asked for. Still, the old mage could wait, as Roland was already running calculations in his mind.

“Of course, Headmistress. I will contact you through the usual channels once I have decided.”

“Good. I will await your reply.”

She sat down and resumed reading as if nothing had happened. Roland was left with a huge decision to make. He tried to recall everything he knew about the mage games and the schools he needed to watch out for.

‘One of those schools is close with the Union. They always win anything involving golemic constructs. They are the ones I need to pay attention to. The others, on the other hand…’

He bit his lower lip as he sorted through his thoughts. The project would require an enormous amount of work, but it was far more interesting than being forced to give lectures at the academy. This competition might be his only chance to escape his current contract and finally achieve freedom. His steps slowed to a crawl as he continued down the stairs. With each step he took, he weighed his options and gradually began to make up his mind about the situation.

‘...’