Lord of Caldera - Chapter 353

Chapter 353: Chapter 353 The Popular Magic Tower of Drakenfels
“May I travel to the principality to confirm this personally?” Veles asked cautiously.

“Of course. Didn’t the Grand Duke himself suggest you do so?” Sylas readily agreed. He knew that once Veles arrived in the principality, Arathion would ensure any doubts were dispelled.

They must be confused about why the Grand Duke is making such decisions, Sylas thought to himself. He knew that if he hadn’t personally heard Arathion’s intentions before, he might have been just as perplexed. The Grand Duke’s vision extended far beyond magic or the principality’s immediate development.

Arathion’s true goal was the preservation of the elves as a race. He sought to prevent a future where humanity shattered their illusion of elves and saw them as rivals, which could lead to their marginalization or worse. The revival of the grimoire and the Mage Tower presented an opportunity to unite humans and elves under a common cause.

Of course, the Grand Duke would welcome this with open arms. If successful, the elves could be revered as teachers of magic and lay the foundation for integrating into human society in the future.

If the two races successfully merged through the Mage Tower, the elves would have a place to belong, even if the principality itself fell one day. Sylas saw it as a gamble worth taking. The confusion among the other elves stemmed only from their inability to grasp Arathion’s broader perspective.

In any case, the reconstruction of the Mage Tower is now certain, Sylas thought, satisfied. With Arathion’s approval secured and the mages, including Veles, on board, the remaining tasks were the tower’s construction and the recruitment of apprentices.

The latter was particularly intriguing to Sylas, as it offered numerous opportunities to leverage his plans. He took up a pen in his study and began drafting a proclamation.

“I, Sylas of Drakenfels, hereby declare the reconstruction of the Mage Tower. This once-lost great legacy will be revived through the collaboration of two races, an achievement worthy of celebration…”

The announcement was intended for circulation within Drakenfels’ domain, but its implications extended far beyond local borders.

News of the Mage Tower’s reconstruction spread like wildfire, shaking not only the southern region but the entire continent. The revival of magic was astonishing enough, but the prospect of a Mage Tower signaled something far greater—the ability to train mages independently.

The official statement even included a timeline, boldly declaring:

“Within 30 years, the world will witness the rise of true mages once more.”

“Thirty years to produce real mages? Where does this confidence come from?” people whispered in disbelief.

“It’s all thanks to the grimoire,” some pointed out after reading further.

Sylas’s proclamation was no mere formality. It was carefully crafted for the empire’s nobility, filled with concrete reasons and evidence supporting the feasibility of this endeavor—even if commoners couldn’t fully grasp its meaning.

“The entire Mage Tower of the principality is being relocated to Drakenfels.”

“What? And the Grand Duke approved this?”

“That’s what they say. The relocation is already underway.”

“Does that mean we can learn from real mages?”

The lower-ranking nobles were particularly excited. Mages were not only embodiments of miracles but also central figures in power dynamics. The revived mages wouldn’t have superiors within the empire, as their elven mentors wouldn’t interfere with imperial politics.

“A first generation of mages without imperial mentors or seniors—only apprentices and successors.”

“If one of my children becomes a mage now, they could wield unrivaled power in the future!”

Magic, historically taught through strict apprenticeship, made disciples heavily reliant on their mentors. Even a mage from a humble family could reshape the power dynamics of the empire by taking prominent aristocrats’ children as apprentices.

Naturally, even high-ranking nobles weren’t oblivious to this potential.

“Send every non-heir child to Drakenfels immediately!”

“But sir, isn’t it too late for the young masters at their current age?”

“Who said it has to be a son? What about a daughter? If that doesn’t work, find a relative and adopt them if necessary!”

The social and power dynamics were shifting, and failing to act swiftly could result in losing their positions to the changing tides. Fear of being left behind drove the nobility to act in desperation.

Amid this fervor, no one reacted more strongly than the imperial family itself.

“Thirty years? You’re saying that in just thirty years, he can create fully trained mages?”

The Emperor, Siegheart, exclaimed in shock. It seemed absurdly short. Magic had been lost for centuries, and now they were expected to believe it could be revived in a mere three decades?

“This must be a lie, Your Majesty,” one of the court nobles declared. “Even restoring a completely lost field of study takes decades.”

“Exactly! Even with the elves’ help and the grimoire, this is impossible. The count must be exaggerating.”

“Fools!”

The nobles’ uproar was cut short as the Emperor slammed his armrest with a resounding crack. Startled by the sudden outburst, the nobles flinched and fell silent.

“Whether it’s true or not isn’t the issue!” the Emperor bellowed. “Do you not understand what this situation means?”

“Your Majesty, forgive our limited understanding. Could you clarify?” one of them asked timidly.

“Thirty years! That means the count now has thirty years to wield magic as a weapon and manipulate the nobles at his will!”

“…!”

The court nobles’ eyes widened as the gravity of the Emperor’s words sank in. Thirty years was an ambiguous period—long enough to seem significant, yet short enough to feel tangible.

“Every lord will be thinking the same!” the Emperor continued. “If they act quickly, they might see the results within their own lifetime! Do you understand the implications of this?”

Had the timeline been fifty years or more, most nobles would have treated it as insurance—a potential opportunity to secure, but one they wouldn’t invest heavily in, as immediate rewards would be out of reach.

But thirty years? That was different. It was just close enough to be enticing, a reward within reach. Combined with the magnitude of the potential benefits, it was something no one could easily ignore.