Dark Fantasy Normalized-Chapter 66

That was all the recognition given to the puppet for its long years of service.

The Gray Tower Master extended a hand toward the puppet.

“...”

The light faded from the puppet’s eyes.

The puppet, which had managed the Gray Tower in its Master's long absence, reverted to being nothing more than an inanimate object.

The Gray Tower Master cast a somber glance at the Tower’s current state.

The moment lingered only briefly.

Without hesitation, the Master turned their back on the Tower.

The Gray Tower had lost its pride and now its Master.

All that remained were opportunists and traitors.

[Location – The Fallen Gray Tower]

***

The Wandering Star

The Gray Tower Master, known as the "Wandering Star," was a creature of legend.

To find anyone who could claim to have seen this being, one would have to seek out those with at least five years of experience at the Tower.

Yes, the Master of the Tower had not shown their face within its halls for a full five years.

Even when they visited briefly five years ago, it was only to meet a few select individuals under a veil of secrecy.

Some remarked:

"A merchant dealing in cursed properties would show more interest in their investments than that."

Others questioned:

"Why is someone like that the Master of the Tower?"

To which some would answer:

"Because, despite everything, no greater mage than them has yet appeared."

The Tower Master was more than just the owner of the Tower; they were its symbol.

Their personal achievements sometimes overshadowed the accomplishments of the entire Tower.

The history of the Gray Tower was not a long one.

Compared to other towers founded by great noble families steeped in both magic and history, the Gray Tower seemed all the more faded, like the color of its name.

And yet, it was still recognized as a proper mage tower.

For it was the home base of the Wandering Star, the repository of the great deeds this figure had achieved.

The mages of the Gray Tower spoke of their Master with reverence.

Some were awestruck, finding it reasonable to accept the Master’s wandering, restless nature.

And yet, one question always lingered:

“So, who’s actually running the Tower?”

“...”

Remarkably, the Gray Tower faced no issues in this regard.

The Master’s absence had been immediately compensated by the presence of another.

The Gray Tower Master was not an irresponsible person.

Before leaving the Tower, they had responsibly (?) appointed someone to take their place.

Whenever the Tower required the Master’s official seal, she was always there—

bearing dark circles so deeply ingrained they seemed like part of her body, paired with a sardonic smile steeped in fatigue and resignation.

Demia.

She tied back her brittle gray hair, which had turned the texture of dust-soaked water, while indulging in a rare, extravagant fantasy:

"Today, I must take a bath before collapsing unconscious."

But hearing that name spoken right in front of her shattered her brief hope.

“Lisir...”

To Demia, that name was a waking nightmare.

The mages of the Tower spoke in unison, praising Lisir’s talent.

They celebrated his affiliation with the Tower with open arms.

Demia could not.

The command she had received from the Tower Master was clear: "Ensure the survival and revival of the Tower."

And to achieve that, what was most necessary wasn’t talent, but financial stability.

For the past year, Demia had worked tirelessly behind the scenes on an extensive plan to secure funding for the Tower.

And all of it—every last bit—had been rendered meaningless by Lisir’s appointment as an Honorary Mage.

***

The Merchant Family Merich

The Merich family, a merchant clan from the South, had amassed tremendous wealth through their trade empire, rising as a new power. Yet, their lack of legitimacy and noble recognition plagued them.

“We’ve got the money,” they thought.

Now, they sought to mingle with the aristocracy and gild their family name. But those same nobles, who happily accepted their gold with sycophantic praise, would turn around and dismiss them as mere upstarts.

“Ah, the great Dolea, truly impressive,” they’d say, only to later scoff, “Well, that’s just Dolea for you.”

The nobles’ two-faced behavior, with its sudden shifts from flattery to disdain, infuriated even the most cunning merchants.

To address this, the Merich family turned their attention to the Gray Tower.

Their solution was clear: elevate their eldest son as an Honorary Mage of the Gray Tower, thereby securing the legitimacy they craved.

For the past year, the Merich family launched an aggressive campaign of support for the Gray Tower, preparing to solidify their promise of partnership with what could only be described as a “boss gone mad” level of fervor.

This development left Demia, the acting head of the Gray Tower, sleepless with anticipation.

If this deal came through, the Tower would finally have the financial leeway to enjoy luxuries she’d only heard about in legends—such as a vacation.

“Could I really visit a café for the first time?” she thought, her imagination running wild.

“Eat something delicious… buy new clothes… explore makeup options… spend the entire day sleeping in bed... hehehe…”

But then, reality intervened.

“Absolutely not.”

A figurative answer from the heavens.

Just as the agreement seemed within reach, a wandering mage named Lisir appeared, taking the Tower by storm and becoming its idolized figure.

The Masters’ Assembly unanimously recommended Lisir’s appointment as an Honorary Mage.

Demia refused.

The Masters’ Assembly unanimously recommended Lisir’s appointment as an Honorary Mage.

Demia refused.

The Masters’ Assembly unanimously recommended Lisir’s appointment as an Honorary Mage.

The Masters’ Assembly unanimously recommended Lisir’s appointment as an Honorary Mage.

The Masters’ Assembly unanimously recommended—

Demia fainted.

Thus, the position of Honorary Mage at the Gray Tower went to Lisir, the wandering mage, instead of the Merich family’s eldest son.

For reference, appointments to Honorary Mage positions were traditionally limited to once every two years.

The Merich family’s response was simple:

“We are disappointed.”

The way the Merich family expressed disappointment was as fiery as the way they showed generosity.

They abruptly withdrew all support for the Tower and leveraged their influence to make their grievances known.

Merchant groups that had maintained good relations with the Tower for years suddenly turned their backs.

Demia fainted.

Some of the more traditional mages might say:

“Honorary Mage positions are essentially bought, aren’t they?”

To defend themselves, it’s worth noting that most towers had long used such practices to strengthen their political influence.

In fact, the Gray Tower’s prior commitment to preserving its honor made it an outlier, and this was precisely why the Merich family sought its recognition.

In that sense, this could be considered a boon.

The Gray Tower’s prestige would rise further due to this event.

Oh, and there was one more piece of good news.

Thanks to Lisir’s efforts, the Tower successfully excised the rot known as Gerhen.

This brought them one step closer to upholding their value of integrity.

The only minor issue? Gerhen’s family, the Dreider, had been one of the Tower’s key sponsors.

Thus, the Tower, while pursuing integrity and honor, found itself repeatedly plunging into financial crises.

It was a cruel irony:

The closer they came to honor, the poorer they became. The further they drifted from honor, the wealthier they were.

Caught in this dilemma of “becoming an honorable beggar or a dishonorable wealthy man,” Demia had inadvertently chosen the former and now had to devise a solution.

Regrettably, she had none at the moment.

This was how Demia came to resent Lisir.

“Lisir. Isn’t he our Honorary Mage? And yet, we’ve assigned him to trivial tasks like mediating merchant disputes.”

It was under these circumstances that Master Mortier, one of Lisir’s most ardent supporters, stormed into Demia’s office to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Master Mortier, do you have any idea how many resources were consumed for this Honorary Mage selection and appointment?” Demia replied in a fatigued yet authoritative tone.

“That’s…!”

How unfair to bring up such practical concerns! Mortier averted his gaze.

“Let me ask you something, Master Mortier. What exactly has our Gray Tower gained from appointing this Honorary Mage?”

“We have gained an individual of unparalleled potential and value.”

“Indeed, we’ve obtained a valuable talent at a steep cost. Consider this assignment a process to verify that talent.”

“But you know full well about Karl of the Red Crate! His past as a mercenary who committed serious crimes before laundering his identity! Given his disposition, it’s unlikely Lisir will receive any respect. A young person holding such an honorary position is always subject to varied interpretations.”

“And knowing that, why would you…!”

Demia gave Mortier a meaningful look.

“Like you, I have high hopes for him.”

“...”

Her words didn’t match her dry expression.

In truth, Demia had little expectation of Lisir.

Currently, the northern underworld faction known as the Leather Chain was operating beyond the control of the city’s nobility.

As the nobility’s primary source of funds, they had severed all external communication and were acting independently.

Karl was undoubtedly following orders from above.

Under such circumstances, would he really hand over goods or rights just because a merchant came demanding them?

It was a slim hope.

Even Folda, once on-site, would understand the futility of their position.

Thus, Demia thought:

Lisir’s dispatch this time.

If it managed to prevent complaints from Folda, that would suffice.

***

For a Merchant, Information Is Life

To a merchant, information is no less vital than life itself.

The worst outcome of lacking information might merely be the loss of some money. But for merchants, whose lifeline is tied to their pockets, that loss is no small thing.

On the flip side, financial gain can bring even a dying merchant back to life.

The tale of an ailing guild master, bedridden from chronic illness and old age, who sprang to his feet with a triumphant shout of “Finally!” upon hearing the word opportunity uttered outside his door, is legendary among merchants.

Thus, Folda made a habit of keeping up with most of the trends and affairs of Bondales, including its undercurrents.

It was a habit that had served him well during his rise from the bottom rungs to his current position as a mid-tier merchant guild leader.

Some said of Folda:

“He knows everything.”

Folda was well aware that the underworld factions ruling Bondales’ backstreets were not merely bands of common criminals but rather a mix of mercenaries and adventurers who had tasted the allure of dirty money.

He also knew that one such faction, the Leather Chain, was acting suspiciously of late.

Among all the merchants in Bondales, Folda was the first to move.

He began withdrawing entirely from all business ventures tied to the northern district.

Folda’s information network was unparalleled among merchants in the city.

He knew this about himself, and yet, at this moment, he found himself utterly confounded.

“I deeply apologize, Sir Lisir! I will resolve the issue you mentioned immediately!”

“Haha, thank you. By the way, do you know who I am?”

“How could I not know, sir? Of course, I know!”

“Haha. And why would that be so obvious?”

Lisir.

How could I have been so unaware of such a prominent figure?

The man bowing his head to Lisir was Karl.

He was the manager of the Red Crate, a trusted figure within the Leather Chain, and someone who catered to clients both in the shadows and in the light of Bondales.

But who, in this city, could make Karl not just cautious but utterly subservient?

“Here it is! Folda’s belongings!”

“Oh my, thank you for resolving this so swiftly.”

“It’s an honor to hear such praise from you, Sir Lisir! If you ever need my help, please don’t hesitate to call on me!”

Who else could have resolved a conflict with the Leather Chain so smoothly?

Even the city’s aristocrats, the Tower’s masters, and senior adventurers found such tasks immensely difficult.

“Mr. Folda, is this safe yours?”

“Eh? Oh, yes! Yes, it is! Thank you so much!”

Folda recovered an asset he hadn’t even dared to hope for.

“Lisir.”

Folda, who was always among the first to grasp the significance of things in the city, etched that name into his mind more firmly than anyone else.

***

“What’s all this commotion?”

The unexpected sight of a procession of carriages threw the Gray Tower into chaos.

Demia turned to her assistant, demanding an explanation.

“The guild leaders of Bondales are urgently requesting an audience…!”

The guild leaders, who usually prioritized currying favor with the nobles and left the Tower at the bottom of their list?

Suddenly?

The dark circles under Demia’s eyes trembled faintly.

At this very moment, a rumor about an Honorary Mage was spreading rapidly among the merchants.

They spoke of someone capable of resolving problems so neatly that even the city’s nobles couldn’t manage to interfere.