As for an Apothecary, he had absolutely no leads. In all the anime and stories he'd consumed in his previous life, that specific profession was rarely touched upon in detail. He couldn't think of a single name that fit the description.
'I'll just have to ask Waver for help.'
But then another problem occurred to him: money. Or rather, a lack of it. He didn't have nearly enough capital or collateral to hire a legendary Tuner and a specialized Apothecary.
Melvin Weins wasn't the kind of man you could sway with mere cash, anyway.
During the Rail Zeppelin incident, Waver had auctioned off a set of Mystic Eyes, and Melvin had managed to scrape together a staggering 160 million dollars in just a few phone calls.
"This quest is practically harder than participating in the Holy Grail War. At least in the war, you just have to fight it out."
Wayland let out a heavy sigh, pushing the thoughts aside. An uncontrollable exhaustion washed over him. He yanked the sheets up over his body, not even bothering to change out of his dirt-streaked clothes, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Irigal waved a tiny, ethereal hand. A sudden breeze filled the room, rustling the curtains and blocking out the lingering light of the late-afternoon sky.
She began to sing--a soft, haunting melody pressed against Wayland's ear.
It was a language from a forgotten age, ancient and desolate.
A song from the Age of Gods.
Slowly, the tension ebbed from Wayland's face, and his features softened into true repose.
"It's already the next morning..."
Wayland pulled back the curtains. The early morning light was cool and refreshing, washing over the world. Below, the distant sounds of the city were beginning to stir.
He picked up a watering can and tended to the flower pot on his balcony.
The seed from the Fairy of the Thames had yet to sprout.
According to Irigal, the concentration of prana in the modern atmosphere was too low; it might take a significant amount of time for any growth to occur naturally.
The best method would be to acquire some high-grade magical fluid (elixir).
However, Wayland was currently broke. He had to save his Department of Policies salary for emergency use, so for now, plain water would have to suffice.
Once he finished washing up, he checked the schedule pinned to his wall. It was Monday, and Waver was scheduled to lecture this morning.
Wayland grabbed his textbooks and stepped out into the courtyard, only to stop dead in his tracks.
He rubbed his eyes. 'Did I transmigrate again?'
Overnight, the towering trees surrounding the dormitory had been draped in banners of all shapes and sizes.
'Are all magi night owls?'
'Do they just spend their nights doing stuff like this?'
"The pen is mightier than the sword, but the fist suppresses both Yin and Yang. Baji Quan Magic Cabal!"
"Leisure, elegance, and the rhythm of the zither. Drink and talk in harmony. Oriental Culture Research Cabal!"
"Free handsome President dolls for the first arrivals! Automaton Magic Cabal!"
"A simple recruitment slogan--Herbivore Magic Cabal!"
"Why do the flowers hide in shame? It's because you are too beautiful. Witch's Magic Cabal!"
...
'Magic Cabals?'
'Recruitment week?'
Wayland walked out of the dormitory, his mind spinning with questions.
Slur Street in the Department of Modern Magecraft had been completely transformed. Decorative ornaments hung from every lamp post and tree, stretching all the way to the main lecture hall.
It looked exactly like a festival.
"Oh! Where is Gray-tan's scent? I haven't smelled it in ages! My fair lady, why haven't you arrived yet?"
The moment Wayland reached the classroom door, he saw Svin slumped over the front row, his nose twitching as he un-self-consciously muttered his usual creepily poetic lines.
'Classic Svin.'
Wayland felt a wave of genuine admiration--of a sort.
The boy was saying things like that with absolute conviction, completely unmoved by the judgmental glares from those around him.
"Morning, Svin."
Wayland walked up to him. Seeing he was alone, he asked, "Where's Flat?"
"This week is Recruitment Week for the cabals. Flat's busy with his own club activities."
"So it is recruitment week. No wonder it's so lively outside."
"The cabal recruitment is a rare highlight of the year," Svin explained, finally sitting up. "Every September, when the new students arrive, the various magic cabals hold a recruitment drive. The first five days are for warming up and promotion, and the final two days are for club performances. You'll see ads everywhere this week, and booths set up on every major street. As a freshman, you should definitely check them out."
Svin pointed toward the lectern. "Besides, the professor won't be holding any lectures this week."
"The Clock Tower actually supports this?" Wayland was surprised.
"It's more than just support. The Clock Tower provides a stipend of one thousand pounds per member for each registered club. Outstanding students even have the chance to be scouted as assistants or personal disciples by the lecturers."
"A thousand pounds? The Clock Tower really is generous."
Wayland thought about the two thousand pounds currently in his pocket and felt a sincere pang of... envy at the Clock Tower's wealth.
"It only happens once a year. Don't miss out."
Wayland nodded. Since there were no classes, he intended to enjoy the sights. He had barely stepped back outside when a booming voice caught his attention.
"Junior students! Come and see the pinnacle of the Department of Creation--the automatons!"
Wayland instinctively looked toward a row of puppets.
They were a head shorter than a human, with exposed clockwork gears and fine threads shimmering in the light. Their internal structures were eerily similar to human anatomy. There were about ten of them, each holding an instrument--trumpets, double basses, and more.
"This is our magic cabal's automaton orchestra!"
A young man in a black tailcoat stood at the front of the group, holding a conductor's baton. He bowed politely to the gathering crowd, his expression elegant. "Please, enjoy Moonlight Sonata."
Wayland didn't know enough about classical music to judge its quality, but he found it surprisingly pleasant to listen to. Judging by the applause from the crowd, it was a success.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]