“We have been waiting for you, Lady Fran!”
“Hm? Who are you?”
“My name is Glackmar. The head of the Eiworth Mage Guild.”
Glackmar bowed gracefully, like he was in a play. Admittedly, it made for a nice picture. I’d never heard of a Mage Guild before. I guess it was founded for mages to do their thing.
“You have exhibited your amazing talents in combat.”
“Hm.”
“Most impressive, however, was your control over the many magicks! I, Glackmar, was moved to tears by the display!”
Our fights would certainly be of interest to mages, if only because of the sheer number of high-level spells. I must’ve made it look like Fran fired Kanna Kamuy without a single word. However, Glackmar’s thick praise couldn’t hide his intentions. All his acting did nothing to cover his hostility and malintent.
“Now then, Archmage Fran.”
“What? I’m not a mage.”
Archmage sounded more like a title than an actual Class. Although, Fran might’ve unlocked a lot more options since the last time she changed Classes—it had been a while. Glackmar ignored Fran’s retort and took a small box from his breast pocket. He opened it, and dropped to one knee while showing her its contents. Following his gesture, the four gray-robed mages pointed their sticks forward and surrounded us. Their formation looked like the beginnings of a strange ritual. I hadn’t sensed any mana so far, but I was ready with Telekinesis should one of them make any sudden moves. The box contained a medal emitting powerful mana. It looked ominous enough to be cursed.
“Please.”
“What’s this?”
“We, of the Eiworth Mage Guild, present you, Archmage Fran, with the Medallion of the First. Please, wear it.”
“The First?”
The First what? I didn’t know what he was talking about, but Glackmar shoved the box closer.
Teacher?
Don’t even touch it.
No signs of magic so far, but the hostility coming from Glackmar and his associates was too apparent for this to be a friendly gesture.
“Take it. This medallion is only worthy of an Archmage such as you.”
“Hm. Don’t need it.”
“Wh-why?!”
“Looks fishy.”
“Please, take it! We mean you only the greatest respect!”
“You can keep that, too,” said Fran.
“But Lady Fran—”
“All right, enough of that.”
“Wh-what?!”
A figure interrupted Glackmar and his cronies as we mulled over whether to cut them down.
“Still up to your dirty tricks over at Eiworth, I see.”
“Phelms?” said Fran.
“Hello. How long has it been? A day?”
Phelms, the former A-Rank wire warrior we’d faced in fierce combat, now stood in front of Fran as if protecting her. He put himself between her and Glackmar, his gentle smile emitting a subtle pressure.
“Begone, fool adventurer!” said Glackmar. “You have nothing to do with this. We are in the middle of a very important ceremony!”
“What’s he on about?” Fran asked.
“Just one of their old tricks.”
Phelms explained that we were about to be enlisted in the Eiworth Mage Guild. The medal was enchanted with a spell to compel its user into a contract, consummated through the execution of a simple ritual.
“The magical contract is quite dangerous. Not as binding as a slave’s contract, but there’s not much difference in how they’ll treat you afterwards.”
“People fall for it?”
We knew right away that nothing good could come of the suspicious bunch. The other mages should be able to discern their ill intentions, too. The Eiworth mages weren’t so strong that they couldn’t be handled pretty easily.
“And here’s their nasty trick. They only use this method of recruitment on talented children. You fall right in their age range, Fran. They must’ve thought they could rope you in with a few pretty words.”
An ordinary child could be easily coerced into joining an association out of fear of offending them. If the ritual wasn’t enough, fear of the organization should do it. They tricked little children into joining them with a silken tongue and intimidation. Talk about poor taste.
“The Eiworth Mage Guild is the only mage guild that employs this desperate measure. They’re low on the food chain, you see. They must want your power.”
Fran stared at Glackmar, who launched into a cavalcade of excuses.
“L-Lady Fran! Who will you trust: an ignorant boor, or a mage recognizing a kindred spirit, about to induct you into the mysteries of magic?”
“Phelms, of course. You people gross me out.”
“What…?! You little…! If we didn’t need you, you’d be…!”
Wow, this guy was thin-skinned! His robes could take more damage than his ego!
Anyway, let’s hand them to the authorities.
“Hm.”
Just as we decided what to do…
“Get her!”
A woman’s voice cut through the argument. The four mages moved in concert.
“Hrm.”
They took out their daggers and came at Fran.
“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?!” Judging from his surprise, Glackmar didn’t order the attack. The one pulling the strings had probably stayed in place to cast a spell while the other three came at us with knives. It was a poorly-thought-out strategy, with even worse execution. The mages were only good for their magic, and their skill with the dagger would make an amateur feel embarrassed.
“Hmph! Tsch! Ha!”
“Urk!”
“Agh!”
“Gah!”
Even Fran felt annoyed that she had to fight such weak opponents. She settled for disarming them by knocking the knives out of their hands. Granted, they probably felt like their hands were just routed by a steel rod, but the men should be thankful they got to keep their limbs.
“Haa!”
“Kyaaa!”
She sent the final spellcaster flying with a straightforward boot to the gut.
“Urgh…damn it!”
The mage’s hood came back, revealing her face.
“Hm? She looks familiar.”
She’s one of Seldio’s friends.
The female mage from Seldio’s party. I thought she would’ve fled Ulmutt by now, but she still doggedly pursued Fran.
“You little brat…!”
I didn’t know whether she was on drugs, too, but her eyes looked crazy. Like she was being chased by someone. She lurched up, holding her stomach, and shuffled towards Fran.
“Your sword…give me your
