Late at night, the nobles of Hohenburg gathered once again.
Unlike the last time, when voices had clashed and tempers had boiled over, this night's assembly was heavy with defeat.
Every noble sat with head bowed, saying nothing.
The silence dragged on until finally Graf Byron, seated at the head of the table, exhaled a weary sigh. His face, worn with years of scheming and indulgence, seemed more gaunt than ever.
"Failure."
His single word dropped like a stone into still water, rippling through the assembly.
At once, the nobles shifted uneasily. Some winced, others looked away entirely, as though the very word carried shame upon their shoulders.
Byron's gaze swept across them, cold and heavy, before he continued.
"The new Director of the Magic Association's branch…" He paused, his lip curling slightly as though the very title tasted foul. "At the beginning, we thought her strategy simple. That she sought popular support. And so, we moved carefully. Quietly, we pushed matters along, ensuring that respected families—our families—placed forth their sons and daughters to be chosen into the Academy."
Several nobles nodded faintly. It had seemed such an obvious plan at the time.
"We assumed," Byron said, lowering his voice, "that she would restrain herself for the sake of reputation. That she would not dare turn away the children of noblemen. That once our lines had entered her ranks, our influence would take root, seeping like wine into water."
"But we were wrong."
His fist struck the table with a dull thud, making several goblets tremble.
"That woman cared nothing for reputation. Not the slightest! She followed the rules to the letter, choosing only those with the greatest magical talent. Even—" His voice twisted with outrage. "Even if that meant choosing some landowner's slave over a Freiherr's son!"
A murmur of disgust swept the chamber.
"Unheard of!"
"Shameful…"
"Choosing dirt over blood?!"
Graf Byron's jaw tightened. "She dares to offend the small landlords, just to side with slaves! Those same landlords control most of the countryside's voice. She truly doesn't care if her name is dragged through the mud."
He spat the last word like poison.
Around him, the nobles groaned and sighed. At their last meeting, they had concluded she cared nothing for power or wealth—so surely she must crave status and reputation. Yet this woman had gone further still, offending the highest lords, the wealthy merchants, even the petty landholders beneath them.
Offending everyone, top to bottom.
What could she possibly be aiming for?
"How could anyone place hope on slaves and serfs?" muttered Freifrau Meralda, her jowls trembling as she spoke. "What value could such lowborn creatures ever bring her?"
"If her vision isn't limited to Hohenburg, but set on the whole of humanity, then her actions make sense. She wants to cultivate truly valuable mages, then send them into royal courts as court mages. Her ambitions are vast!"
"Could it be… that the Director of the Magic Association is playing a longer game? Perhaps she seeks not influence here, but… a harvest in the future. When those mages grow into their power?" Heinrich murmured.
A silence followed. The idea had weight.
"If her vision is not limited to Hohenburg, but set upon all humanity," Meralda whispered, eyes glinting, "then her actions make sense. She wants to cultivate true talent and send them into royal courts. Court mages—trained by her own hand. Her ambition is vast!"
"Yes! Exactly!" cried a Ritter. His voice rang with sudden revelation. "If her goal is the thrones of the kingdoms themselves, then no wonder she ignores us! Whatever wealth, power, or title we offer—how could it compare to what royalty can bestow?"
AN: Ritter = Hereditary Knight
"Clever woman… cunning woman," Meralda murmured, fanning herself as if to cool the heat rising in her chest. "To recruit only the most gifted—it is ruthless foresight."
"I've already heard whispers," said Freiherr Heinrich, lowering his voice, "that a Großherzog has extended an offer to one of her graduates. Her plan is already bearing fruit."
"Tch, if only we had known sooner!" one noble cursed, slapping the table. "Had we realized she could reach the royal courts, we never would have opposed her!"
Graf Byron smiled thinly. "Perhaps it is not too late. If we align ourselves with her now, imagine the benefits. I myself have long sought ties with the Königshaus of Kona. Their kingdom is desperate for mages. And Hohenburg—so close to Kribi, producing apprentices in abundance…"
"As long as we send graduates to them, we gain royal friendship." Another lord leaned forward, eyes glittering. "A profitable bargain, is it not? After all—those commoners were raised on our grain, housed under our roofs. Once they graduate, it is only natural they obey our arrangements."
"Natürlich!"
"Natürlich!!"
"..."
As the discussion grew, the nobles' expressions lightened considerably.
The secret room, once filled with suffocating tension, now buzzed faintly with cautious laughter and clinking goblets. The mood had shifted—suspicion giving way to relief, as though a great burden had been lifted from their shoulders.
News had already spread that Hohenburg Academy's star pupil, Andro, had been recruited by Großherzog Atto. The sharper nobles instantly grasped the underlying scheme.
It took them little time to deduce the hidden motive beneath Aura's seemingly inhuman façade.
After coming to the conclusion that Aura was a friend rather than an enemy, they no longer felt aversion to Aura.
Yes, there had been conflict before, but now there was profit to be shared. Old grudges could be set aside.
They would not begrudge Aura her earlier solo gains, and surely Aura would not begrudge their petty schemes.
For clever as she was, Aura was still only one person. In terms of connections, she could never rival all of Hohenburg's nobility. If she wanted her network of mages to tie her to more royal houses, she would inevitably need the backing of Hohenburg's nobles.
And the nobles, naturally, were not small-minded. Better for everyone to profit together than to fight amongst themselves. What sense would that make?
If they bickered, neither side would benefit. The only winners would be those lowborn wretches.
"Hahaha… hahahaha—!" The nobles raised their goblets in mutual celebration, the hall echoing with forced merriment. The sour taste of past quarrels seemed to vanish as their laughter mingled with the faint crackling of the fireplace.
Just then—
"Fresh news," announced a servant, hurrying into the chamber, bowing low as every noble turned their gaze upon him. His voice trembled slightly as he relayed the latest word from the Magic Association. "Andro has… rejected Großherzog Atto's offer. On Dean Aura's personal recommendation, he has returned to Kribi to continue his studies."
The hall fell still.
"…Is she an idiot?"
The words slipped out before the noble who spoke them could restrain himself. His voice cracked in disbelief.
Once more, the nobles fell into dead silence.
The sound of a dropped fork rang loud in the stillness. No one reached to pick it up.
They could not comprehend it.
Truly, they could not fathom it.
That woman—what in the devil's name was she thinking?
Defying pressure from every level of Hohenburg, treating noble and commoner alike, selecting mages and sending them to Kribi? Engaging in such thankless toil—for what?
For power? The Herzog and Königs could offer far more.
For wealth? Training mages consumed wealth and brought no profit.
For fame? Was she counting on those pitiful serfs to sing her praises? Their voices could never drown out the landowners'.
The silence was broken only by the slow, deliberate sound:
Clang—Clang—Clang—
At the head of the table, Graf Byron tapped the tabletop with a finger. He pressed his brow, a vein throbbing painfully at his temple.
Lifting his head, he looked over the assembled nobles and sighed helplessly.
"We've offered money, power, status, and she refuses them all. That purple haired mage in her tall hat truly means only to raise commoners into talent. We cannot outfight her, she refuses to play politics, and when we try to draw her in, she leaves us no bargaining chip. Are we truly powerless before her?"
"…Could she be a spy, sent by some foreign power?" murmured a young noble at Byron's side after a long hesitation.
"And your reasoning?" Byron's voice was low, controlled.
The young man licked his lips nervously, feeling the weight of so many eyes upon him. "She's… too clean. Too flawless."
Yes. The new Director was almost too perfect—flawless to the point of suspicion.
If someone abandons every earthly desire, it does not mean they have none. It means they harbor a greater, hungrier desire hidden deep within, one so consuming it suppresses all others.
If that were the case—then it was terrifying. The nobles shivered at the thought.
"…Unlikely." Graf Byron thought carefully, then shook his head. "Even if she were a spy from beyond the Kingdom, why would they send her to a Magic Association branch so far from the Empire's political heart? That office has no authority in governance, nor any tie to the Empire's vaults of secrets. What would a spy accomplish there? Steal unpublished magical research?"
He continued grimly:
"No. Any kingdom with half a wit would know better. The Magic Association has pledged to share all magical research openly with humanity. Why risk stealing something that will be freely given? To do so would only offend the Association—a costly move with no reward."
"What about the research conducted by the Great Mages? Those personal studies—the Magic Association never promised to make those public," one of the nobles questioned.
"That's impossible as well," answered Heinrich. He adjusted the fur mantle at his shoulders and leaned forward. "The research topics of the Great Mages are far too advanced. With the generally backward state of human magic, it would be nearly impossible to comprehend. Even if a spy managed to steal it, it would be useless in the power struggles of human nations… Unless you mean the demons would steal it?"
"No way." Meralda finally interjected. "If demons had secretly infiltrated Kribi, they'd already be dead. The upper echelon of the Magic Association—those monsters—harbor a hatred for demons carved deep into their very bones. The human capital of magic is forbidden ground for demons. Even if the Demon King himself entered, he would die with regret."
Her words were soft, but every noble present could feel the cold finality within them.
"If even the accusation of espionage cannot be pinned," muttered Heinrich, shaking his head, "then there's no stain we can place upon this Aura."
"Damn it! Does such a person without desires truly exist in this world?"
Graf Byron slammed his palm against the table, his fury unrestrained.
The surrounding nobles followed, shouting curses in anger. Yet, after the outburst, only sighs remained.
For in truth, they had no countermeasure at all against the ever-expanding might of the Magic Association.