Lord of Caldera - Chapter 352

Chapter 352: Chapter 352 Relocate The Mage Tower
“…!” Veles stared at Sylas with wide, trembling eyes, his expression a mixture of excitement, hesitation, and confusion. Sensing the turmoil within him, Sylas leaned in slightly and spoke softly.

“Isn’t elven magic also on the decline? Wouldn’t it be better to migrate to a newly founded Mage Tower rather than clinging to the fading one in your principality?”

“H-How do you know about that?” Veles exclaimed in shock.

“Oh, so I was right,” Sylas chuckled. “I merely guessed from your reactions when you saw the grimoire.”

“…!”

Truthfully, Sylas had assumed the elves would behave as they usually did—aloof and detached, only translating the grimoire before departing. To the elves, who already possessed knowledge of magic, a human grimoire wouldn’t have been anything extraordinary.

But their reaction to the grimoire had been dramatic. Far from dismissing it, they were moved to tears, examining it relentlessly for three days without rest. It was as if they had unearthed the most precious treasure imaginable.

Piecing together their reactions, Sylas arrived at a single conclusion:

The elves’ magic is no longer what it used to be.

Artifacts like magical armor, painstakingly crafted once every few years, and mages who rarely made public appearances—these were the remnants of the elves’ dwindling magical prowess. And now, Veles’ response confirmed it.

“Your observation is correct,” Veles admitted with a sigh. “Elven magic is indeed in decline.”

“As I thought,” Sylas murmured.

“I’m ashamed to admit it, which is why I hesitated to speak of it.”

“There’s no need to feel bad. I understand completely,” Sylas assured him.

If the roles were reversed, Sylas himself wouldn’t have openly revealed such a vulnerability. He respected their decision to remain silent until prompted.

“But I thought elves lived long lives?” Sylas asked curiously. “Wouldn’t that give you plenty of time to pass down your magic?”

“It seems you’ve forgotten about our birth rates,” Veles replied, a faint smile of resignation on his lips.

“Oh!” Sylas exclaimed, realization dawning on him. He slapped his knee as the truth sank in.

For ordinary mages, talent was not always essential, but to be a direct apprentice of a high-ranking mage, a certain level of aptitude was required. The problem was that the elves had a remarkably low birthrate. This naturally meant fewer individuals with the requisite talent were born, resulting in many dying before passing on their knowledge.

In short, the elves were teetering on the edge of losing even their remaining magic. In such dire circumstances, the discovery of a grimoire capable of nurturing future generations was nothing short of miraculous.

“Wait a minute,” Sylas thought, his eyes gleaming with inspiration. Isn’t this an incredible opportunity?

If things went well, this wasn’t just a chance to seek help for the Mage Tower’s establishment—it was an opportunity to absorb the entirety of elven magic.

Sylas’s voice took on a subtle persuasion as he addressed Veles. “In that case, wouldn’t it be better to relocate the entire Mage Tower of the principality here?”

“Pardon? What do you mean?” Veles asked, startled.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Sylas replied calmly. “If what you’ve said is true, then reviving magic within the principality seems nearly impossible. Even if research progresses, there won’t be any apprentices to pass it on to.”

The population issue was insurmountable. Even if magic advanced, it would die out without successors. This wasn’t a problem that could be solved by anything other than increasing numbers—a near impossibility for the elves.

“Humans, on the other hand, have numbers on their side,” Sylas pointed out. “It would be much easier to find talented individuals among humans to inherit and develop magic.”

“But they’re humans, not elves,” Veles countered. “We are elves of the principality, not humans of the empire. Even if the knowledge is preserved, it would not benefit the elves.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken. If we’re part of the same Mage Tower, wouldn’t a human one day teach an elven apprentice?”

The cycle would continue: an elf, lacking a successor, could pass their knowledge to a talented human. That human could further develop the knowledge and eventually pass it back to an elven apprentice.

It was a structure of knowledge circulation transcending races. If a human mage couldn’t find an apprentice to inherit their knowledge, they would naturally turn to the elves.

“Over time, even the unique knowledge of humans will be shared with the elves. For now, humans may only have much to learn from elves, but there’s no guarantee that will always be the case, is there?” Sylas said, his tone calm and persuasive.

Veles remained silent, visibly deep in thought.

“Think about it carefully,” Sylas continued. “No matter how precious knowledge is, it becomes meaningless once it’s lost.”

With a conflicted expression, Veles closed his eyes, lost in contemplation. Sylas waited patiently, knowing the weight of the decision before him. After a moment, Veles opened his eyes and spoke.

“It is impossible unless I first gain the Grand Duke’s approval.”

It was a clear statement—if that obstacle was resolved, he would accept. A satisfied smile spread across Sylas’s face as he heard the response.

“I’ll handle that part,” he replied confidently.

Sylas immediately sent a letter to Arathion, requesting permission to relocate the Mage Tower of the principality to Drakenfels. It didn’t take long for a reply to arrive from the western lands.

The response was simple and swift: “As long as the results of the Mage Tower’s work are shared, there is no objection. Gather what you need upon your return.”

When Sylas showed the letter to Veles, the elf’s expression was one of disbelief, and he muttered half to himself, “Did they truly approve it this easily?”

“There’s the handwritten letter for proof. Do you think I would forge it?” Sylas asked with a chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant… This is just so… unexpected,” Veles stammered, still struggling to believe what had transpired. The Mage Tower was the principality’s sole institution for magical research and one of the last remaining legacies of their ancestors, aside from a few artifacts. Yet permission to share it had been granted so easily?