Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 311 - Worn weary wizards

“This is truly, truly fascinating,” Magister Penney murmured. “Can you sense that subtle thaumaturgic response, like so? It’s as though we’re witnessing a cascade of etheric harmonics, yet I cannot detect their origin. Are they tied to a mnemonic lattice of some sort? It resembles what’s been observed in the Chamber of Remembrance, doesn’t it? Astonishing. If only this were my realm of expertise. I do wish Senior Wizard Ward were here to delineate these patterns in greater detail. Don’t you think this could revolutionise our understanding of aetherial imprints?”

Gaspar grunted in response, nodding along, though his attention was fraying. Penney’s enthusiasm was understandable, but Gaspar struggled to focus. A well-worn journal sat heavy in his hand, untouched for some time. Had he misplaced his quill somewhere? He couldn’t quite recall.

He supposed he could simply use pyrokinesis to write, as he often had in his younger days, but he doubted his precision in his current state. He’d rather not accidentally set his journal on fire.

Penney, somehow remaining a boundless source of energy, scribbled notes furiously, his gaze darting between his writing and one of the colossal, polished silver discs suspended in midair above them. Its reflective surface shimmered with ghostly images — faint, shifting figures that flickered and faded like memories forgotten lost to time.

Gaspar couldn’t deny the significance of this place. Discoveries of this nature surfaced perhaps once in a generation. It was their responsibility—both as wizards and council members—to investigate it thoroughly, to unearth its secrets layer by layer. Yet at this moment, Gaspar found himself not wholly able to rise to the occasion. The exhaustion of recent events still weighed on him like a mantle — the inexplicable chaos, the unrelenting trials, the constant drain on his mana. It was only natural.

Whatever the case, he lacked the clarity to unravel the intricate mana patterns saturating the chamber, or to decode the ancient wards around them. Instead, he found himself marvelling at Penney’s resilience. The portly magister, who only hours earlier had seemed on the verge of collapse, was impressive. His peculiar stamina was one that was well known on the Isle. As long as the situation wasn’t dire or life-threatening, the man appeared to possess a near-infinite font of energy that bordered on the inhuman.

It was one of many reasons that Gaspar avoided drinking with him.

Still, at least he was grateful that they were indeed no longer in a situation where mortal peril lurked around every corner.

Gaspar’s gaze wandered across the expansive chamber, Penney’s monologue washing over him like the murmur of a distant brook. Though the space still bore scars from the recent battle fought here, it was already mending itself. Fractured stone and scorched walls had largely healed, as if the ancient magic within simply refused to yield to destruction. It was a marvel in its own right, and one Gaspar was interested in studying. But that would have to wait until later.

Near the entrance, their group had established a makeshift camp of sorts. Blankets, food, and other supplies lay scattered among them. Nearly four-fifths of their number were incapacitated in some fashion or another, be it from mana exhaustion, injury, or the aftereffects of alchemical overuse. Those still able to stand—including Gaspar—had taken turns tending to the others. Now, with calm restored, there was little else to do but wait. It would take time for their comrades to regain enough strength to leave, and Gaspar wasn’t about to send anyone back through these halls on their own.

He himself craved rest, but despite his harried state, his mind buzzed with too many unanswered questions. The irony, of course, was that his fatigue and their current circumstances rendered him incapable of properly addressing any of them. As one of the few wizards with enough mana left to cast, he had also taken it upon himself to maintain a vigilant watch. They couldn’t risk the entire group falling into unguarded slumber in a place still laced with potential threats. Magister Penney, to his credit, had volunteered to assist.

Gaspar’s eyes drifted to a pair seated near their unconscious companions — Allyssa and Shin. Allyssa was leaning against Shin, eyes closed in exhaustion. The young Shielders were taking turns keeping watch, ensuring at least one of them remained awake to guard the others. Shin, for his part, was quietly reading a book, even as Allyssa’s head rested on him.

Very studious, for a youth who was neither a wizard nor a scholar. From what Gaspar had seen, Shin possessed more intelligence than most his age, even if he did not speak much. He was, perhaps, the most grounded and normal member of Baroness Hartford’s entourage.

After a brief pause, Gaspar returned his attention to the floating disc above, nodding along to Penney’s continued musings. As with most things of Zuverian make, it was nearly impossible to deduce the artifact’s true purpose from mere observation, but this one seemed to hold some connection to the Chamber of Remembrance. He would not be surprised if it was linked to the arrays that had given that chamber its name.

A sudden shift in the ambient magic behind him jolted Gaspar from his tired thoughts. He turned just in time to see a pillar of flame erupt at the chamber’s center. From within its flickering depths, the unmistakable figure of a red-haired woman emerged.

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Penney’s chatter fell silent as he, too, turned to look at the newcomer, his expression growing more subdued. “…Is that Baroness Hartford?”

Gaspar cast him a sidelong glance. Before the events here, the man had been one of the Council’s strongest supporters of the Baroness’ efforts on the Isle, but some of that fervour had evidently waned. The magister was not one to judge rashly or jump to conclusions, so Gaspar doubted his opinion had shifted entirely. Still, there was a new caution to his gaze as he looked upon Scarlett.

As there should be. From what Gaspar had witnessed, everyone would do well to approach her with more care. Much more than most probably were, at the very least.

Tucking his journal into his robes, Gaspar tightened his grip on his staff and began to cross the chamber. Magister Penney hesitated before following, falling into step slightly behind him. The Baroness remained where she had materialised, slowly surveying the chamber, pausing momentarily on her party members—Shin had already noticed her arrival, closing his book and nudging Allyssa awake—before settling on Gaspar and Penney as they approached.

They stopped a short distance from her. Gaspar studied her carefully, aware that she was doing the same to him. Her expression betrayed little, her composed demeanour a mask he had come to recognise.

“…You were gone for some time,” he said finally.

Her brow arched slightly. “Was I?”

“Yes.”

“And did anything happen while I was away?”

“Nothing of note.”

“Good.” She nodded to herself, her gaze once more sweeping across the chamber. “It seems this place has changed. Was it not in far worse condition when I left?”

Gaspar inclined his head. “The structure is embedded with restoration arrays. They ensure the chamber mends itself.”

“Oh? Fascinating.” The woman’s attention lingered on a rune-inscribed section of the nearest wall before drifting upwards to the ceiling, which shimmered like the surface of a vast liquid mirror. “…This chamber is certainly unique,” she murmured.

Gaspar frowned as her gaze returned to him.

“…You must understand that we have questions, Baroness,” he said.

“I do,” she replied simply.

“Will you answer them?”

“I do not know. That depends on the questions.”

“Then what questions will you answer?”

She regarded him for a long moment, then glanced at Magister Penney. “…We will have to see.”

Before Gaspar could respond, she looked towards her companions. “I trust none of my people are seriously injured?”

“That Fynn boy will need considerable rest to recover, but beyond that, no,” Gaspar said. Then, levelling her with a look, he added, “But I would ask that you not evade answering my question properly.”

She met his eyes calmly. “I am not evading anything. I simply have yet to decide what I am willing to share with you.”

Gaspar’s frown deepened. “Let me remind you, Baroness, that you are on the Rising Isle — within one of our most sacrosanct and protected sanctuaries. If you value your relationship with the Council, I suggest you cooperate.”

His words carried weight, though perhaps less than he would have liked. He was no longer as certain as he had once been that the Rising Isle could—nor should—compel anything from her. Yet the thought of allowing her free rein, especially after what he’d seen, was deeply unsettling. There were still too many uncertainties and unanswered questions regarding what had happened here — where the Baroness had disappeared to, what force had corrupted the Hall of Echoes, and what role she played in it all. The implications reached far beyond personal grievances; this was about the safety of the Rising Isle itself.

A sharp edge entered the Baroness’ tone. “I find it curious that you would demand answers from me when you have withheld crucial ones from me.”

Gaspar paused. “…I presume you are referring to Delmont Hartford.”

“I am.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Would an apology suffice to temper your anger on that matter?”

“It would not.” She folded her arms, watching him closely. “…However, I do agree that much needs to be discussed. And I doubt you alone hold authority over such matters. The rest of your council, I assume, would want a say in how the events here are addressed?”

“…What are you proposing?” Gaspar asked warily.

“A formal inquest,” the woman answered. “I will present my account, and you will present yours. And then, hopefully, we can reach an accord as to how to best proceed.”

Gaspar’s eyes narrowed. A formal inquest? Once they returned, the Council would almost certainly demand something similar anyway, but for her to suggest it herself? What was her motive? He had half-expected her to deflect, even attempt to silence him. Yet this…this was the opposite.

…Should he be worried?

The idea seemed sound enough on the surface. There were no apparent downsides for the Council — at least, none that his weary mind could conjure. And yet, that very simplicity unnerved him. This woman had seemingly dabbled in magic that bordered on the forbidden, perhaps even struck pacts with demons or other dangerous entities. Such matters could not simply be overlooked. So why was she so calm? Was it because she did not yet know the full extent of what Gaspar had seen? Or was there more to her suggestion than met the eye?

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Magister Penney interjected. “It would allow for both parties to share their perspectives and reach a fuller understanding. The Baroness has been an invaluable ally throughout her time on the Isle, and perhaps even more so during this expedition in ways we have yet to completely appreciate. It’s only fair she’s afforded the chance to present her account in a neutral setting.”

Gaspar glanced at his colleague, unsure whether to voice his misgivings. When his gaze returned to the Baroness, her expression revealed little, but there was something in her eyes that gave him pause.

…It would not surprise him if she tried to leverage the inquest to raise the issue of his familial connection to Arch Wizard Delmont — and his failure to disclose it to her. Certain members of the Council would seize upon that, eager to discredit him, despite their prior approval of his ‘collaboration’ with her while fully aware of the circumstances. But there was little he could do about that right at this moment. For all his reservations, an inquest might be the most reliable way to extract more answers from her.

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“Very well,” he said at last. “Once we return, I will see that an inquest is arranged with the Council at the earliest opportunity.”

“Excellent.” The Baroness turned, her attention shifting back to Allyssa and Shin, who had risen and were making their way towards her. “Then I leave that in your capable hands. As for me, I will be taking my retainers with me to leave this place. I have not had a proper rest for far too long, and I am in dire need of one.”