Fallen Mage Regressor

After confirming that they had everything that he had been looking for, Mal made his way back to The Cat's Eye Gang hideout. He would have a chance to unpack and look at the materials from the church at a later date. For now, he needed to check and see how his little side project was doing.

"Walk me through the current state of affairs."

Hemp greeted him at the door, then nodded at his statement. "Come with me."

There were a group of young teenage boys and girls being taught by a member of Aston's mercenary gang. They were going through sword forms, doing the motion one at a time, over and over. The distribution center was being swarmed by a good ten or twenty individuals. Cokane was being packed in rapid boxes, then sent out to people at the door to be delivered en-masse

"With the territory of the gang we attacked being absorbed, we've been strained to our limits—in a good way," Hemp said. "We're able to keep up thanks to the influx of new blood."

"That's good. How are they doing in terms of training?"

"They're a long ways off, of course. Taking random teenagers and turning them into weapons takes time."

Mal's lips twitched downward.

"They're that young?" he said.

"Not all of them, there are a few adults."

"Try to keep the younger ones away from the front lines. We have time."

"You got it, boss."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a notepad. The letters on it were poorly written, scribbled in something like a child's handwriting.

She finished, then slipped her pencil and notepad back into her pocket. "It's good that you came here, because Aston actually wanted to talk to you."

"He did?"

"He was out on patrol mopping up some of the ne'er-do-wells in our territory. He should be back any second now."

The door to the front swung open and the man himself stepped through. His gray hair, wolf tail and wolf ears marked him out from the other two humans he was accompanying.

When he caught sight of Mal, he nodded at him and stepped over.

"Lord Patoal. How goes it?"

"Things are well. Hemp has been telling me that you've been teaching your new students?"

"I never thought I would be helping a bunch of kids, but it's been going well for them," he said. "Many of them were desperate. The sorts who would have ended up in a bad place without us. I feel good knowing that they're off the streets and with us."

Technically, Mal thought. this might actually be worse than any life of crime they could have gotten involved in.

Mal chose not to voice that.

"I was told that you had something you wanted to talk about with me."

"There was."

He glanced at Hemp, and she raised an eyebrow.

"If you got something you want to say, you should come out and say it," she said.

"Can we get some privacy?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. It's not like I'm the second in command of this whole operation or anything."

Despite her words, she turned around and walked off. She waved down one of the people at the distribution center. "Hey, we talked about packing. It needs to be airtight. We don't want the product going bad."

Her voice faded in with the hustle and bustle of the warehouse, and Mal turned his attention back to Aston.

"You know, she has a point," Mal said. "Anything you want to say in front of me can be said in front of her."

"I'm aware of that. But this doesn't have anything to do with the gang. This is personal."

Mal raised an eyebrow and found his head tilting to the side.

"Oh? How personal?"

"I wanted to ask about Norin," he said, "How is he doing?"

Yeah, he's fallen in with a bunch of noblemen, and it seems like he's lying to himself and to everybody around him about his association with you. Other than that, he's a fifth year, so that's good.

That beat of hesitation must have been noticed by Aston, because his eyes sharpened on the spot.

"What has he been doing?"

Mal opened and shut his mouth, trying to think about the best way to put it.

"He's been climbing the social ladder," Mal said. "Fairly effectively from what I can tell."

"But?"

"The people he's associated with aren't exactly of the highest moral character."

And that meant a lot coming from Mal, given his own past.

Before Aston could say anything, Mal shook his head and continued speaking.

"I shouldn't judge," he said. "And honestly, the people he's with aren't that bad. Just stupid and young. The connections he's making right now will benefit him in the long run."

Mal had to remind himself of that. Hypode was still growing. There was a good chance the timeline would change and he would turn into a perfectly respectable inheritor of his father's estate.

Aston grimaced, a faint curl to his lips.

"I was worried he would do something like that."

"You were?"

"For as long as he's grown up, he's seen me fight and scrap to get a noble title," he said. "I wanted something I could leave behind to him, an inheritance that would make everything I've been through worth it. But I always tried to do that with some level of honor—even though it was a peasant's honor. I don't think I ever took the time to explain to him that the means were just as important as the end."

Don't I know it, Mal thought.

"Aren't you working with a bunch of criminals?" Mal said.

"Yes, and that's the difference between me and a real nobleman. I have soft edges where I'm willing to toe the line. I only hope that Norin knows when it's gone too far."

"You aren't going to try to talk to him?"

"He doesn't respond to my letters, perhaps out of shame after what happened with the Vasria job."

Mal thought about it for a bit, then nodded. "You should talk to him."

"How am I supposed to do that if you won't even see me?"

"Perhaps the opportunity will come to make things right."

Aston's lips curled into a smirk. "If I obtain that minor title you promised me, then it'll be sooner rather than later."

"Indeed."

Mal turned around to walk off, assuming the conversation was finished.

"Lord Patoal."

Mal stopped and glanced back. "What is it?"

"I know that Exodi Academy is a dangerous place." he said. "I don't suppose you could keep an eye on him for me?"

Mal weighed every reason that this would be a bad idea.

He owed nothing to Norin, and Aston had already made a deal with him. This went beyond those terms.

But on the other hand, it wouldn't do to have a depressed servant walking around because his son had died in a school event later down the line. Besides, the odds of something bad happening were rather low, Norin probably didn't die at this time. Mal was about 90% sure Norin had graduated.

He probably died during one of the incursions.

Mal was pretty sure.

Actually, the longer he thought about it, the more unsure he became.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank you, Lord Patoal."

Mal stepped into his dorm room and the fresh scent of blooming plants wafted through the air.

He kneeled down and got close to the water roses. The buckets of fresh water had been changed regularly. The plants themselves had survived each cleaning with zero issue, as far as Mal could tell. The thin roots had extended down deep to touch the bottom of the bucket while the green buds had risen up, fully unveiled, revealing dark blue petals in full flowering.

The Fireglove was as good as usual, and the withering-type seeds were—well, growing was probably the wrong word. A handful of shriveled, black stems had poked out of the dirt, the soil itself a little darker than the other potted plants.

Mal poked at them and nodded to himself.

After a few minutes of thought, Mal decided to try his first experiment in crossbreeding. Mal took out some freshly harvested Airgrass from the rooftop, then set it onto his table. He took some paper, and shook the Airgrass above it. Little tiny pollen buds fell onto the paper in small clumps. He took said pollen, then added it to the most mature looking water roses, the ones that were at full bloom.

Perfect, he thought. Exactly what I'm looking for.

After some time, the flowers would develop into seeds, and then Mal would replant those and see what form they would take.

He knew for certain that somebody had already had the idea to crossbreed these plants, but he had yet to hear of any successful attempts. Not because it was hard, he suspected, but because it probably wasn't useful, especially given that this sort of plant breeding was closely associated with witchcraft. It was no surprise that his library search hadn't given him much information on this, the last time he had been there.

With that done, he pulled out a sackcloth and opened it up.

Books. About a dozen.

He arranged them by type—some for wizardry, but the vast majority relating to witchcraft and general horticulture.

From those, he picked two that would be essential for the upcoming event. Before they'd finished their discussion, Deacon Thoma had explained what the next event would be.

Air Rowing.

Or, as Mal referred to it, discount airship travel.

What they'd done was shrunk down an airship core and removed the power sources, thus requiring the students to provide their own mana.

Mal, of course, would be relatively ineffective as one of the "rowers." That, by default, meant he would have to take up the role of "captain."

He suspected that his circlemats would have no issue with this, and that was who he intended to employ. Even so, he had to be sure that his abilities were up to the task.

There would be a combat element, and it would be expected that as the captain and the only one not rowing, Mal would take the lead.

In short range, Mal was competent. Not to the standards he wanted, but enough to survive most encounters with most of his limbs intact.

Long range was an entirely different animal.

And this was where the books came in.

He dusted off the manual with a sweep of his fingers and cracked it open.

There were a few different ideas mentioned in the book.

A crossbow that acted as an enhancer for Arcane Sphere Spells. In the witchcraft book, a slingshot that carried a payload full of sleeping pollen.

If Mal had more time, to train and to properly engage with the weapon, any of these could have worked. But with how soon the event was approaching, he knew that it was a poor decision.

All at once, Mal thought of the weapon that had been introduced from up north. A ranged projectile tool. One that Lusia was a natural with, but that he seemed to have some affinity with as well.

The problem would be modifying it to be more amenable to his witchcraft ways. If he could somehow change the payload—

He looked back at the pollen.

Now there's an idea.

As expected, the call for the second event went out quickly. Students lined up in the central hall, the atmosphere sharper than the last time. Everyone had tools and items attached to their sides and backs. The only ones who'd made it through were those who either tended to prepare extensively or were competent enough that it didn't matter.

Footsteps.

"Ah, my rival, it seems that you find yourself all on your lonesome."

Mal turned about and looked at Savaly. She had an easy grin on her face and a strange look in her eyes, the sort that made Mal feel a little weary.

She knows.

Mal could tell instantly. She'd somehow gotten information on the upcoming event, and she was about to pitch a recruitment.

"I have heard some interesting things about the second event," she said. "And I was wondering if—"

"No thank you."

Her mouth opened, then shut. The grin faded and was replaced with a more irritated smile.

"You have a great deal of nerve. This is the second time you've interrupted me in the middle of me making an offer."

"I have a good set of instincts."

"And those instincts say that you shouldn't ally with the strongest person in this event?"

"Yes."

She sighed and shook her head. "You really are insufferable at times."

"Attention!"

A voice cut through the conversations and everybody quieted down. Vigil stepped forward from the back of the room toward the front.

"All of you have done well to survive the first event. Now we move to the second."

He swept his hand and a rowboat conjured in the air, a black orb embedded into the center.

"The second event will be a game of warships, but not like any you've seen before," he said. "Using airship technology, three of you will have to row a boat through the sky. One will be exempt. Points are scored by either grounding enemy boats or driving them out of the arena. Are there any questions?"

"How does the school feel about lethal force?"

It had been Hypode. Why wasn't Mal surprised.

"While the school will endeavor to prevent injury, casualties are to be expected."

Mal, once again, doubted that there would be serious danger—perhaps at most, the loss of a limb or two.

I've noticed a conspicuous lack of death in this school of lethality, he thought.

Then again, that wasn't accounting for the incursions and the attack from the eastern wastes.

On second thought, maybe the school was dangerous enough.

"You will have five minutes to assemble a team," Vigil said.

He stopped speaking and everybody took that as the cue to begin. Mal quickly found his dormmates one at a time. It had been easy for Lusia. She'd refused any offers—she'd received quite a few because of her A-grade core—and had waited for him as if she'd expected him to select her. Philo had responded enthusiastically, seeing it as the natural outcome.

But despite it all, Rolam had completely vanished.

Mal was certain that he'd passed, so where was he?

The timer was ticking down, and it struck Mal that he didn't have a fourth teammate.

It struck Mal that he was in a great deal of trouble.

Am I about to get kicked out purely because I couldn't find a teammate?

"Excuse me?"

Mal turned around.

"Do you have a free spot?" The student said.

Mal looked around for literally anybody else.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?" Mal asked.

The student spoke their name and Mal found he vaguely recognized it.

A member of another circle?

Right, him. He was the reasonable one.

"Given that Rolam is gone, I suppose you'll have to do."

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