04 The Record of Reinol Gusion
―――The life of a magus is dedicated to the future.
It was a clear morning in the laboratory. With his daily routine over and done with, Reinol Gusion returned home whistling merrily.
A desk with a laptop on it, a fridge full of beer, and a big sofa used in place of a bed. That was all there was in the room. Its simple furnishing brought to mind an exhibition sample rather than a laboratory.
Reinol was a researcher residing in this mansion.
He was a German male of Aryan descent, thin and tall with rough mannerisms. From his wild expression and behaviour some people mistook him for the research building's bouncer. Not unreasonably, as Reinol was overall a confrontational and dynamic magus.
Upon hearing that a new magical theory had been developed in the West he would rush off and confront its creator. Upon hearing that a new leyline shift had occurred in the East he would rush off and stake his claim for the right to use it.
"These resources are wasted on you chumps."
He was denounced as a predatory and acquisitive magus in the Clock Tower for snatching up people's research and property under such pretenses. It was a complete misunderstanding of Reinol's real intentions, which were hard to explain to others. In truth, Reinol himself couldn't explain why it was so fun to shut down other people's enterprises and then legally acquire them. At times he was convinced he never would.
"Rather, I'm telling ya it's fine as long as there's a future ahead. I'm done with stupid shit like preserving tradition and the status quo. I guess money and the like is my stake in that future."
He opened the fridge with a curse, pulled out a beer bottle, and drank it in one gulp with relish. It was a small reward for his overnight struggles but that much was enough of an expense. For him, the smaller the cost of "the present" was, the better. A money-grubber, he recklessly squandered it on various expenses, almost none of which were for himself.
Most accomplished magi were eccentrics, and Reinol Gusion was one such person. Even though he was a diligent magus, in his private life he was the very image of a reckless youth. He was deservedly shunned as a scoundrel, and as a result he had many business partners but not a single friend.
"Nah, I don't need 'em. It's not like I'm lonely. There isn't even anyone I'd want to be friends―――"
No, there was one, Reinol amended in the dreary room. There was a single aesthete who understood and was interested in Reinol's life's work.
A magus from a Far Eastern island country.
A good-natured person that denounced the evils of man wholeheartedly.
The woman who had picked a fight with the Association armed only with a suitcase, her shining hair streaking like a comet as she declared herself the strongest on the planet, had certainly stuck in his memory.
"Judging from her looks she's one foxy woman. If she turns out to be a virgin I'll laugh my ass off. If it were me I'd complain about not getting to do any X-rated stuff."
The lips that spewed those words were drawn in a grin. For the duty-driven Reinol it was a rare pleasant memory.
"Welcome back, Director. A fine morning to you. It's a bit sudden, but we've received an invoice and a demand for apology from the Department of Mineralogy. They're asking for an explanation about the excavation facility that you damaged the other day," a lively female voice resounded from the laboratory's speakers.
It was the voice of Reinol's secretary and caretaker.
"Seriously? I even snuck in through the back door, how the hell did you notice? Is there a camera in here?"
"I've rigged a lamp on my desk to turn on when that fridge opens, what of it?"
How clever of ya, Reinol spat out and flopped onto the sofa.
"It's your job to deal with the complaints. What else is a secretary good for? Listen, I'm gonna sleep. I'll definitely sleep today. It's been a week.....no, two weeks? Wait, is it three weeks? Anyway, I've got so many things to do I haven't had any real sleep. Somehow I found two hours of free time so lemme go off to dreamland just this once."
"Sigh. But what if they're also seriously angry just this once? Even if I handle the negotiations, would you at least consider the possibility of showing up as your utmost gesture of goodwill?"
"I ain't got no goodwill for a lot that exploited kidnapped brats as a workforce. Just go with the usual. If we told them it's all on my secretary then things should work out peacefully, yeah?"
"I see, playing dumb it is. I shall handle them that way. If the matter is left to my discretion, would it be agreeable for the mystic codes that you stol- no, acquired, to be placed in my care?"
"Fine, fine. I've already forwarded the important stuff, I'll send ya the rest. Now I'm gonna sleep. I'll get up at the usual time so have the tea ready for then. And throw in those infernal pies of yours as usual, will ya?"
"Pies as sweet as heaven, understood."
The voice from the speaker fell silent. Reinol let out his breath in annoyance and closed his eyes.
A weightlessness as though floating in space, or perhaps like a plunging roller coaster in the grip of gravity. Though both were apt comparisons, he still remained conscious in his exhaustion.
"...what the hell, I can't even sleep properly. A magus' life's just too long. There's so many things to do I ain't even got time to nap. Shit, am I just gonna work like a horse 'til I'm dead?"
Resigning himself, Reinol sprang up from the sofa and sat at the desk for his next project.
Click-click, the keys softly resounded.
On his desk was a laptop, and he went over the freshly updated grades of the newcoming students which were displayed on the screen. It was his daily routine to find those among them that held promise, examine their background and present condition, and determine whether there was value in aiding them.
There are many magi in the Clock Tower whose talents are squandered merely because of a lack of funds. That is even more so for newcomers, who are always in search of a patron.
On the pretext of an assignment Reinol offered such students problems to solve, covering the expenses necessary to that end; the point being that randomly disseminating his research would indirectly foster a successor.
Blessed with neither family nor apprentices, Reinol chose to enact his succession by releasing his legacy into society.
Since long ago magecraft - the study of thaumaturgy - has been an expensive pursuit, a threshold that those without wealth could not cross, but this issue was somewhat alleviated at the start of the 20th century. The reason for that was the recognition of Modern Magecraft as the twelfth Department.
Modern Magecraft is a faculty that aims to summarise the thaumaturgy of the past centuries as a broader, shallower, more general magecraft that is "easier to use". Freely discussing and evaluating magecraft, even uploading images of it at times, it truly is a field for a new generation adapted to modern society, without the support or approval of the Lords.
The implicit assumption that "the gates of the Clock Tower are not open to lineages of less than five generations" was shattered by the establishment of the Department of Modern Magecraft. Thus many newcomers who had previously toiled in obscurity knocked on the door of the Clock Tower, and the city of magical academia recaptured its heyday of activity.
The fact that El Melloi II, who is considered the foremost of the new generation's leaders, became the Department Head of Modern Magecraft could also be seen as a sign of the times. Regardless, the degree of conflict between the new generation that "traced back a century or so at best" and the noble magi who "had more than ten centuries of history behind them" goes without saying.
The new generation is just a labour force, nothing more than drudges turning the gears of the Clock Tower's economy...such is the opinion of the Lords.
Reinol also assents to that, but talent knows no rank; to a magus, what must take precedence is the thesis rather than the pedigree.
The duty born within oneself.
Fulfilling a meaning that they themselves create.
It is for that purpose that the Clock Tower—that a magus exists.
History this and lineage that - Reinol Gusion felt that wasting time talking about such bygone things was in itself a blasphemy against the founding fathers of magecraft.
"Grooming a successor is a magus' duty. Twenty-five years are enough for my own research. That's when my abilities peak anyway. After that it's a waste of effort. Past that point a man's gotta relinquish his time to the future."
Reinol didn't start prioritising the future because he grew old. As far back as he could remember his only task had been to observe the future.
The past was just a foundation. The present was just a transient dream. A magus must aim only at the future.
"It's a laugh that I'm sitting here in Archaeology. Me, who doesn't give a toss about relics of the past and would rather wipe them all out. But what can I do, that's where measuring instruments are the cheapest to use after all!"
That had eventually become Reinol's stock phrase. And yet.
"...I don't think that's it. You hate the past because you know that learning the truth inevitably changes things. You treasure the future because it's something that you cannot change, right? Honestly, men are romantic to a fault."
"――――――"
It must've been because of the memory from earlier.
His lips relaxing once more, Reinol went back to choosing his new investments and sending the introductory emails.
"Apologies for interrupting your Daddy-Long-Legs[1] impression, Director. Is this a good time?"
"The hell it is. I told you not to wake me up before noon, didn't I? You sure came back early anyway!"
"Taxi fare was included in the expenses. By the way, there is a guest waiting in the lobby. Since her shameless look matches yours, shall I have her wait at the usual storage room?"
"A female visitor? Probably made an appointment, not that I remember. I'll deal with her when I wake up so leave her in whichever empty room works. At worst, even if I oversleep I'll still wake up before nightfall."
"Understood, same as usual it is. I was making sure just in case. Well then―――"
"......wait a moment. I'll also ask just in case. You haven't raised an eyebrow even at a topless woman before, so what the hell kinda look do you call shameless? Well, whatever. What's her name?"
Could it be a nudist or something?
"About that. How do you read this noun, I wonder. Japanese really is difficult."
"If you can tell it's Japanese you should already know. What're ya acting coy for, huh?"
"This is just a guess, but it would be possible to read this as 'Miss Aozaki'."
"―――show her to the Director's Room right now. Then you'll bugger right off to Mars or wherever, and you won't come back for at least half a day, you hear me!?"
Reinol bolted upright from his chair and rushed into the next room. He rinsed his sleepless, zombie-like face with cold water, arranged his hair, and relied on his memory to put on a shirt that matched her taste. Just for a moment he even considered a plan to go outside and pick out a complete outfit instead before changing his mind, thinking that in those thirty minutes she could very well disappear. She was a woman that drifted as free as a butterfly, after all.
As a result, he cut a dreary figure as he ran down the hallway. His face was filled with anxiety and the almost overflowing anticipation of meeting an acquaintance after several years. Perhaps the previous memory had been a sign from heaven.
Miss Aozaki. That was the only other name that mattered to Reinol Gusion. She was an exceptionally unusual magus, a free spirit that belonged to no organisation and was shunned by all.
Although she wasn't wanted as a criminal, quite a few people were trying to make a name for themselves by taking her down. In fact, whenever she visited the Clock Tower she never once left in peace without an incident.
"I'm never coming back to such a rowdy city."
It had been several years already since she spat out those words and laid waste to the Sealing Designation division. The woman he thought he'd never see again had returned to the Clock Tower, and on top of that she came to visit him of her own accord!
Just to clarify any misunderstanding, Reinol was incapable of love. What he felt was a kind of pure passion, a determination to definitely win her over this time. After all, he had exhausted his capacity for something as human as love long ago.
"Yo! It's been a while but you're rocking as always, Miss Aozaki! No, I can tell even without looking, I'm sure you rock even harder than before! Speaking of which, welcome to Rocks Road! Coming to me for a favour, is it okay to feel flattered that you're giving me a last chance?"
Reinol opened the door of the Director's Room without even knocking.
In the daily cleaned but never used room stood a dignified woman in her mid-twenties. Turning around, she pulled the long-hair wig from her head and greeted Reinol with a smile.
"Good morning. It's been quite a while, Longshanks. My congratulations for your Directorship, belated as they are. Now, I know it's a bit sudden but I've used up my travel fund, and I was wondering if you could possibly lend me some money?"
"It's, it's the older sister, god dammiiit!!!!"
The forty year old kicked the chair away like a child. The last chance that Reinol Gusion had dreamed of vanished even before night-time.
♢
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Originally Posted by Arashi_Leonhart
