The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 10: It’s Not Over Yet (2)
The El-Terra Church was the state religion of the Empire, worshiping Terra, the Mother Goddess of all lands.
“Sigh...”
Baldwin, one of the seven Archbishops of the church, was troubled by a recent development.
“Of all things, it had to be the Cadena Flu.”
To make matters worse, the flu had broken out in the Vins territory, a significant destination on the pilgrimage route.
At this rate, he’d have to halt the pilgrimage.
“...No, it’s unacceptable. Absolutely not.”
Baldwin shook his head.
He hadn’t endured decades in the cutthroat world of church politics, leaving no room for error, only to let a minor flu risk destroy all he had achieved for his ambition to become Cardinal.
‘What nonsense.’
He thought, eyes ablaze with ambition.
Knock knock.
“Archbishop, the guests you requested are here.”
“Bring them in.”
As the door opened, two men entered and respectfully bowed.
“El Sia. By your grace, we have safely arrived.”
“El Sia. May the Goddess bless our meeting.”
The Archbishop returned their greeting with a nod.
“El Sia. Please, both of you, take a seat.”
Seated at the head of a comfortable sofa, he began.
“I heard you arrived in Sirin two days ago, but I was so occupied that I’m only now able to meet you.”
“No worries, Archbishop. We understand how busy you must be. I’m Moira Main, a Level 5 mage from the Blue Tower.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Neil Brion, Executive Vice President of NewTech Pharmaceuticals.”
The Blue Tower was one of the four Great Towers, and NewTech was a corporation known across the continent for raking in profits.
“So, what’s the status on the joint project to develop a cure for the Cadena Flu?”
Moira smiled at the Archbishop’s question.
“Progress is steady. As you know, the Blue Tower has a long history of potion making, and NewTech here is the top pharmaceutical company, producing everything from cold medicines and painkillers to addiction treatments. There’s no drug we can’t make, Archbishop.”
The Archbishop’s face brightened at their confident assurance.
“Haha, hearing that eases my worries. So, how long until it’s complete?”
“We’re only at the clinical trial stage now.”
“Once we pass that phase, we’ll apply for official approval from the Empire’s Food and Drug Administration.”
“Oh!”
Seeing that things were progressing smoothly, the Archbishop clasped his hands in prayer.
“El Sia. The Mother Goddess is watching over this humble servant.”
“However...”
After a pause, Moira spoke cautiously, reading his expression.
“As you know, clinical trials are not a process that can be completed overnight.”
“If we rush just to meet a deadline, the treatment could end up ineffective or even dangerous.”
“In short, when can we expect it on the market?”
“We’ll complete it within six months, no matter what.”
“Six months!?”
The Archbishop’s face twisted with frustration, and he raised his voice.
“That’s impossible! I have to be in Vins territory in four months, according to church guidelines! No matter what, finish it and have it ready by then!”
“But that schedule...”
“Silence!”
BANG!
His fist hit the armrest of the expensive sofa, and silence settled over the room.
The quiet was broken by a knock.
“Archbishop, another mage has arrived.”
“Tsk. Bring them in.”
Calming down, the Archbishop turned to the two men.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was another person?”
“Pardon? There isn’t.”
“It’s just the two of us.”
Then who...?
As the three of them turned to the door, a figure entered.
“Let me see... the church greeting, if I remember... El Sia, was it?”
The newcomer had the elegance of a noble from a storybook, wearing a pristine white robe that perfectly suited the El-Terra Church.
He gave a polite but not overdone bow.
“Greetings. I’m Oscar Crucian, Level 2 mage of the White Tower and Head of the Potion Department.”
He raised his head slowly, his eyes curving in a gentle smile.
“I’m here to share some good news.”
“...Good news?”
The Archbishop frowned.
That phrase was commonly used by the church’s evangelists when visiting homes.
But surely this man wasn’t here to preach to the Archbishop himself.
“I dislike wasting time. What’s your purpose here?”
There was an edge to his voice, warning that he would not tolerate anything trivial.
But Oscar replied calmly.
“I’ve come to sell you a cure for the Cadena Flu.”
“Hm?”
The Archbishop looked at the two guests, clearly surprised.
“Well, how coincidental. We were just discussing that.”
“Ah, so that’s why you let me in without hesitation.”
Oscar casually approached the sofa and examined the other two.
“Am I late? Have you already made a deal with them?”
“No, not yet.”
The Archbishop shook his head firmly.
“They’re still figuring out how to proceed.”
“Lucky for me, then.”
“And what about the White Tower?”
Oscar, having gauged what the Archbishop wanted to hear, responded confidently.
“The White Tower is ready to make a deal immediately.”
“That’s a lie!”
Moira of the Blue Tower jumped up, shouting.
“Everyone knows the White Tower’s situation. What funds or expertise could they possibly have to produce a cure?”
“...Hmm.”
Finding Moira’s objection reasonable, the Archbishop nodded.
“Certainly a logical concern. Oscar... was it?”
“Crucian. Oscar Crucian.”
“Right, Oscar Crucian. Do you really have the cure?”
Oscar took out a small wooden box from his robe and set it before the Archbishop.
“A sample of the Cadena Flu cure.”
“Oh!”
The Archbishop opened the box, examining the vial before nodding thoughtfully.
“Hmm. But there’s no way to know if this is genuine or not...”
He seemed to consider something for a moment before speaking.
“If we were to make a deal, by when, and how many doses could you supply?”
“Archbishop Baldwin!”
Feeling betrayed, Moira raised her voice, but the Archbishop shouted back.
“How dare you! You’re in no position to speak up!”
“But, that’s not what I meant...”
“Weren’t you the ones unprepared for this transaction?”
“But that’s only because we’re waiting for the Food and Drug Administration’s approval... Ah!”
Moira looked back at the vial, realization dawning on her.
“Hey, that cure. Has it received approval from the FDA?”
“Nope.”
“Hah! I knew it. Archbishop, see, the White Tower is in the same boat as us.”
“...Ahem.”
The Archbishop discreetly placed the vial back on the table.
No matter how urgent things were, he couldn’t risk purchasing an unapproved, untested cure.
Seeing this, Moira continued to make her case.
“Archbishop, once we get approval from the Food and Drug Administration, we’ll be able to match the quantities you need through factories across the continent. There's no other place here with a faster production process than ours."
"Above all, that treatment was created by the White Tower. I guarantee that a treatment developed through the collaboration between the long-standing Blue Tower and NewTech, the continent's top pharmaceutical company, would be far more effective."
The Archbishop, after nodding once, turned his gaze toward Oscar.
"What do you think? If you have nothing in particular to say, I’d like to have a deeper conversation with these two."
"...I acknowledge that we have not received approval from the FDA and are lagging in production speed. However...”
A faint, mocking smile spread across his lips.
"Isn't it a bit ridiculous for the Blue Tower to boast about its long history? Especially in front of the White Tower."
"What?"
Moira Main's face stiffened.
At that same moment, a killing intent sharp enough to make an ordinary Level 2 mage struggle to breathe pricked at his skin.
"I'll give you a chance to take that back, assuming it's just a foolish slip-up from a lowly Level 2 mage."
"Well, it's only a slip-up if I was wrong..."
Oscar, unaffected by the killing intent, looked back with a genuinely puzzled expression.
"Why don’t you answer this directly? Which was the first mage tower established in this continent's history?"
"...Are you seriously trying to flaunt a five-year head start?"
"Just five years?"
Oscar emphasized those words and shrugged.
"Interesting. Those five years you call 'just five years'..."
Those are the years that every Blue Tower master has longed to close the gap on, at any cost.
And.
"It’s five years that, no matter how many thousands or tens of thousands of years pass, will never be bridged."
That’s history.
Once recorded, it's a truth that can never be changed, a root that can never be erased.
"And you seem to be disregarding our treatment, but did you forget that just twenty years ago, the White Tower held a monopoly over the potion market?"
"Hmph, that’s a past no one remembers now."
"A past no one remembers...."
Moira instinctively shivered.
Even she didn’t know why.
When that young mage’s gaze turned cold, her body just reacted.
"In that case, there's no helping it. I’ll just have to make you remember."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we're going to take back the potion market that we entrusted to the Blue Tower for a time."
"...Heh, haha! Hahaha!"
Moira threw her head back, shoulders shaking with laughter.
After laughing for quite some time, she wiped the tears from her eyes and spoke.
"I must be pitiful indeed, to have listened so seriously to the words of a monkey who can't tell heaven from earth."
Moira shook her head in exasperation and turned to the Archbishop, who had been quietly observing the situation.
"Very well. Your Excellency, we’ll be ready within four months, so let’s proceed with the contract."
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
"Yes. The Blue Tower will give it our all to obtain approval from the Imperial FDA. If I fail, I’ll lay my neck on the line."
The Archbishop nodded slowly in response to her confident statement.
"If you're willing to say that much, then I suppose there's no reason for me to hesitate any longer."
It was essentially a declaration that negotiations with Oscar had fallen through.
The Archbishop was just returning to his desk to find a pen to draft the contract when—
Bang!
A priest burst into the room and shouted.
"Your Excellency!"
"How improper! We have guests here; why the commotion?"
"I'm sorry, but a message has come in through the communicator."
"A message?"
The Archbishop looked curiously at the communicator the priest had brought.
"Where’s the message from that would cause such a fuss? Could it be from His Holiness the Pope...?"
"No, it’s from Lord Vins."
"Lord Vins?"
Archbishop Baldwin rarely showed surprise, but this time he did.
No wonder—he had never even met Lord Vins before.
"I suppose we'll find out by listening. Hand it over."
Taking the communicator to his ear, he spoke.
"El Sia. This is Baldwin, faithful servant of the Earth Mother."
[Ah! El Sia! First, let me express my gratitude for Your Excellency’s boundless grace.]
"...Gratitude?"
The Archbishop’s expression became puzzled.
He hadn’t done anything deserving of thanks, so what gratitude was this?

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