Chapter 12

They caught up with Lord Frosct in the west wing of the Imperial Ministry of Magic, where he stopped at each door to knock several times.

“Apologies, my ladies,” he turned to lower his head as they approached, “but this is how ‘tours’ tend to go in the Ministry of Magic. Unless they’re considered a recognised peer in the field or someone who represents a sizable grant, everyone would rather avoid spending time entertaining visitors. You could say that we’re inherently resistant to the majority of conventional espionage attempts because of this.”

Ludmila studied the plain oak door and the bleak stone walls on either side. There was no indication as to what the chamber within contained. She could hear someone flipping pages inside, so it appeared that they were being ignored as Lord Frosct had suggested.

“What’s the usual process through which grants are made?” Clara asked.

“In the distant past,” Lord Frosct answered, “the ministry was a think tank that could be employed by anyone to perform research and development in arcane fields. Like the Imperial Army, however, it was turned into a major national institution. As with the military, the Emperors of old were quick to realise our value and acted to place us increasingly under their control. This was roughly around the same time that the original school that eventually became the Academy was founded by the Master. In fact, I think the school was founded because the institute of the time needed a way to raise new generations of arcane casters.”

“So the way that the Empire raises arcane casters employs an institutional framework similar to how the Temples of the Six raise Acolytes,” Clara said. “Do the Temples of the Four also do this? The magical potential has historically been rare, so how has competition for prospective students been managed in the Empire if so?”

Lord Frosct furrowed his brow at Clara’s line of questioning, his gaze unfocusing for several moments.

“...ah,” he nodded to himself. “I believe that you have been subjected to a misconception. We dispelled this bit of ‘common sense’ a century ago, but I suppose that these matters are not something most have any awareness of. The potential for arcane magic is unassociated with the potential for…rather than ‘divine’ magic, it would be more accurately described as a tier magic ‘discipline’ fuelled by conviction. This type of knowledge does not transmit very well since the Temples consider it taboo to explore the nuances of what they consider powers bestowed by the gods. As such, those under their influence tend to remain ignorant of reality.”

“So the educational models of nations with high degrees of religious influence like the Slane Theocracy and the Holy Kingdom of Roble are fundamentally flawed?”

“Fundamentally, no. It is more that its application in certain areas is…in error. This error is deeply ingrained in their culture – to the point where it is treated as ‘common knowledge’ and not given much thought as you have just demonstrated. Since the two nations you mentioned are dominated by temple curriculums, a failure to realise the potential for ‘divine’ magic is misinterpreted as not having potential for any magic. This results in these nations having disproportionate ratios of different types of magic casters.”

“And, as a result, derivative industries and the benefits that they bring to society are never realised.”

The grey-robed Wizard turned an appraising look upon Clara.

“Very good, Lady Corelyn,” he said. “It is quite gratifying to enter into discourse with an aristocrat who has a mind for intricacies beyond politics, intrigue, and the accumulation of personal wealth and power. Even with the Imperial Magic Academy raising generations of the Empire’s future leadership, it is quite rare to find someone of your calibre in the Empire. I often wish that I could force obstinate aristocrats and bureaucrats into making the right decisions – perhaps our new suzerain will end up doing it for us?”

“All things in good time, Lord Frosct,” Clara replied. “Implementing radical change comes with its own pitfalls, as well…though I am surprised that the Empire is having problems of this nature.”

“Yes, well, no matter how much progress we make, I suppose some things never change. In the case of the Empire, there are certain dynamics in particular that make things…prickly.”

The Wizard and his apprentice continued down the hall. He gestured loosely for them to follow.

“As a scholar,” he said, “I am of the mind that all avenues of study should be explored to their fullest potential. Scholars, unfortunately, are rarely heeded unless those in power are desperately grasping for answers. That, or we can bring them wealth somehow.”

“That is why patrons offer research grants, is it not?” Clara said, “There must be a middle ground somewhere – resources are limited so practical developments will garner the most investment.”

“It is the solution and the problem at the same time. Since we are a formal institution of the Empire, everything must go through the Imperial Bureaucracy. A wealthy patron cannot simply appear and shower us with support – their support must be approved by the powers that be. Furthermore, the majority of the ministry is tied up with government projects: we are allocated a budget and only a small amount is set aside for theoretical research, which the administration sees as ‘frivolous’.”

Lord Frosct knocked on the next door. He waited for half a minute before knocking again. A muffled voice issued from the other side.

“Fuck off!”

Lady Frianne pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead.

“Does this happen to everyone?” Ludmila asked.

“Well, it isn’t as if they can see through walls,” Lord Frosct answered with a shrug. “Even the Emperor himself is subjected to irate reactions if there hasn’t been enough time to properly notify everyone of a visit. The doors tend to be magically locked, as well. More discreet individuals might put up warning signs about dangerous experiments or crucial points in research to ward people off.”

The Alchemists and Artificers in Warden’s Vale never did that. Maybe it was because they were Merchants rather than academics. Lord Frosct led them further on.

“Now, where was I…ah, because the Empire holds the purse strings, branching out as we please is difficult. Since the Empire considers the Imperial Ministry of Magic’s efforts critical to the nation, it is more often than not that the fruits of our research are monopolised by the Empire. Near everything is secret, top-secret, protected or magically patented.”

Ludmila recalled Germaine LeNez’s ‘incident’.

“Does ‘magically patented’ involve explosions?”

“Why, yes, it does,” Lord Frosct nodded. “Items that we expect to stay within the Empire’s borders – equipment for the Imperial Army or some other branch of the government, for instance – will inflict a magical brand upon those who tamper with them. Those who possess this brand are incarcerated upon detection. Exports of magical items patented by the Empire will explode if handled in the same fashion. This is to protect our technology, of course.”

“...and no one has taken issue with this.”

“I’m sure that they might, but attempts at theft should be duly punished, yes? Magical technology is a key factor in the power of any nation. We are simply defending our interests. This brings us back to the original topic: since the Empire is a secular state, the influence of the Temples is seen as undesirable. At the same time, the Temples are crucial to the well-being of the nation so we cannot simply discard them.”

“They are rivals for influence in the Empire,” Lady Frianne said. “Even with absolute political authority and military power, our government is all too aware that the Temples can influence the population in undesirable ways should they oppose any of our policies or actions.”

Re-Estize was a secular monarchy, but Ludmila didn’t know whether it had the same issues with the Temples of the Four. Their position being what it was, the Temples of the Six focused entirely on the care of its congregation. Still, she was aware of the pressure that the Temples could exert – her debate with Bohdan over the evacuation of their village was an example of this. It was not conducted in the antagonistic manner that Lady Frianne intimated, however.

“So you curb the influence of the Temples by…what?” Liane asked, “Limiting the number of Priests?”

“Temple schools still exist,” Lady Frianne said, “but the Faith of the Four has no official representation in the Imperial Academy of Magic. Nor does it have any in our universities aside from the Military Academy.”

“I see.”

The Imperial Academy of Magic raised the Empire’s leadership – the aristocrats, great talents and those possessed of substantial wealth. These students were raised in an institution that minimised the influence of religion. The segment of the population raised to become Priests would be commoners and thus offer no political or economic advantages to the Temples’ base of power beyond themselves.

A grey-robed figure came around the corner of the hallway, pacing rapidly in their direction. Lord Frosct brightened.

“Ah good, we’ve caught someone outside of their laboratory…Derris! We have some visitors from–”

Derris dashed towards them. He was a man of average build and height, but something about the way he looked in their direction was unsettling.

『Woah! That’s some crazyface if I ever saw it.』

『I’ll handle him.』

Their Shadow Demons settled back down. Derris’ arms came up and, just before he reached Clara, Ludmila’s arm shot out and she grabbed him by the throat. Lifting the frenzied man from the ground, she hurled him into an open door nearby. Seeing that every other door was closed, the room was probably his.

The man didn’t even finish skidding over the floor before he leapt back onto his feet. As he ran back towards the entrance, Ludmila slammed the door in his face, holding it shut. Frantic pounding issued through from the other side.

“Let me out!” Derris pleaded, “Let me touch! I promise I won’t lick!”

“Hmm…” Lord Frosct’s voice came from behind her, “I was hoping it would play out better than that.”

“Who is he?” Florine asked.

“Derris is one of our lead Artificers. Nearly all of his work is for the Imperial Army. He wears equipment that allows him to examine magical items and equipment, so I thought that he would notice and engage in a bit of friendly conversation.”

Thumping filled the air as Derris banged on the door again. Was he crying?

“This is too friendly,” Ludmila said. “Is there no in between?”

“When it comes to our respective fields of study,” Lord Frosct replied, “this is well within the realm of expected behaviour. The sight was far too stimulating, I’m afraid.”

“What’s your field of study?” Liane asked.

“Necromancy,” he answered.

Lord Frosct locked the door with a spell. Ludmila shifted away, trying not to eye him warily.

『Should I tell him?』

『Don’t you dare.』

“Wait a minute,” Liane frowned as they walked away, “if he’s a Necromancer, then why is Frianne scared of DEATH BREAD?”

“What is DEATH BREAD?”

“Just because we’re like that,” Lady Frianne said, “doesn’t mean I have to like everything he likes.”

“Hallo? What is DEATH BREAD?”

Liane stepped up to squeeze in between Lord Frosct and Norman. Lady Frianne stepped up to walk on the other side of Lord Frosct.

“Hehe…have I got a treat for you,” Liane said in conspiratorial tones.

She reached into her Infinite Haversack and pulled out a magical container. The aroma of fresh bread and fruity pastries wafted into the air as she lifted the cover.

“Made with produce straight from the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Liane told him. “Undead labour is involved in eighty per cent of the supply chain. It’d be more but the Empire side of things would scream.”

“Really now…”

Lord Frosct leaned in closer to Liane, bending forward to examine her goods. Lady Frianne grabbed his elbow and yanked him back.

“Not gonna try?” Liane tempted him with a smile.

“May I?”

“Mhm.”

He picked out a cream puff laced in caramel, taking an experimental bite.

“Mm…this is quite delectable. Eighty per cent, you say?”

“Between harvest, transport and processing,” Liane replied. “Farmers manage teams of Undead. Soul Eaters represent the majority of the domestic transport in our territories while Undead also power the machinery involved in processing. Oh – the salt is conjured by Elder Liches if that counts.”

“Elder Liches, you say? That’s an avenue of production I haven’t considered, though admittedly employing an Elder Lich in the Empire would be next to impossible. Summoned Skeleton Mages only appear to be capable of casting combat-related spells. Mm…this is quite…dear, you must try one of these.”

Lady Frianne glowered down at the cream puff in Lord Frosct’s hand before relenting with a sigh.

『I win!』

『If Frianne puts a curse on you, I’m going to ask Lady Shalltear to leave it on.』

“We’ve been experimenting with Undead labour in agriculture for some years now,” Lord Frosct said. “Within the ministry, of course. None of the members involved in the research have decent cooking skills so all we could produce were these pitiful biscuits that Frianne kept turning her nose up at. So your common folk have no qualms about consuming these products?”

“In our territories, no,” Liane replied. “The city has no problems either, but things get iffy out to the west. Demihuman subjects don’t really care one way or the other and we’re exporting all sorts of stuff to the Dwarf Kingdom with zero issues. We’re starting to promote our exports in the Empire, but I’m sure you know how it is.”

“Indeed. So this DEATH BREAD…where is it located?”

“Out in the southern fourth-class districts.”

“Ah, I see. So your hope is that pragmatism will win out over superstition.”

“Yeppers.”

“Hm. Well, I should drop by on occasion to see how it’s doing. Acclimation to the presence of Undead labour and its products is a topic of great interest to me.”

Ludmila’s attention wandered as they passed directly over the cluster of negative energy presences. They were deep below the Imperial Ministry of Magic – perhaps a hundred metres underground.

“Considering the average imperial citizen’s reaction to the Undead,” Ludmila said, “I take it that these experiments you’ve been conducting are hidden somewhere on these grounds?”

“Yes, that’s right. I would love to show you our work, but it is a restricted area. Considering where you hail from, it hardly seems to be an issue, but the rules are the rules. We’re currently on our fifth year of monitoring.”

At least someone followed the rules. The negative energy presences receded as they made their way around the corner and down the next hallway.

“What are you monitoring, exactly?” Ludmila asked.

“There are certain fears expressed by certain respectable organisations and individuals over the possibility that Undead summoned through Tier Magic-related processes might result in the accumulation of negative energy. This accumulation may, in turn, result in the manifestation of natural Undead…or so they claim.”

“This is certainly not the case,” Ludmila said. “We have thousands of Undead labourers all over the Sorcerous Kingdom with no sign of increased negative energy accumulation.”

Lord Frosct stopped to take a deep breath. He let out a long sigh.

“It is as I mentioned earlier: scholars are rarely heeded. All we can do is collect data to build our case. In the meantime, superstition impedes progress.”

He turned to regard them with an approving gaze.

“I must apologise for my hasty judgement upon our meeting,” Lord Frosct lowered his head. “You ladies are far more than you appear. In the blink of an eye, you have transformed from scions of the ignorant Re-Estize to champions of progress. I suspect that your industries will surpass the entire region’s production in short order. The Empire could have been reaping the benefits of Undead labour for generations. Instead, a nascent nation has stolen the lead in a matter of months.”

The grey-robed man turned towards a nearby door with a sad shake of his head. He knocked on the door several times.

“Huh…? Whaddyawant?”

“It’s me, Sophie. Frianne is here with the visitors that she spoke of.”