"Tch. A bunch of trash disgracing the honor of magi!"
In front of Rhodes's Mystic Code shop, a blond youth in a red trench coat spat out his complaint.
Before him, magi fiddled with Rhodes-brand Mystic Codes. Most were mercenaries from the Middle East—battle-hardened men who understood just how practical Rhodes's creations really were. There wasn't a single useless flourish in them. Every piece was designed purely for killing and survival.
"Stop deluding yourself, Alba."
The rasping, aged voice behind him rumbled like some ancient beast stirring awake, sending a chill down the spine. The youth—Alba—stiffened and turned.
An old woman stood there. She was thin, her skin mapped with wrinkles, yet her face still shone with vitality that made one forget her age.
"You… no—why would you come here?" Alba stammered. He glanced at the bustling Rhodes's Arcane Garden nearby, his expression twisting with disgust as though he'd just swallowed shit.
"Alba, you shouldn't be so prejudiced."
The old woman's voice was soft, patient, the way a teacher would correct a student. And indeed—Alba was her student, even if only nominally.
"But…" He tried to argue, only to falter, lost for words.
"Isn't it simply because your Cornelius family's Mystic Code business has been eaten up by Rhodes? That's just market competition. Even we of the Twelve Lords have no excuse to interfere. You'll have to swallow your pride."
There was a faint note of self-mockery in her tone. With a slight cough, she stepped past him and strode toward Rhodes's Arcane Garden.
"Master Inorai…" Alba called weakly, his face conflicted. "If you mean to cause trouble for Rhodes, please at least bring the family's troops. Several houses have already tested the waters against the Arcane Garden and lost dozens of magi—even a colour-ranked powerhouse among them."
"No, you misunderstand, Alba." The old woman—Inorai—smiled. Though her voice was hoarse, it carried an authority that brooked no refusal. "I've come only to purchase. My family, the Valualeta, must also learn from Rhodes's techniques.
"And besides, though I may be a withered old tree as one of the Twelve Lords, I'll not be bullied like some tender sprout."
"Your will." Alba bowed low, his tone heavy with respect. "To behold you, Lady Inorai Valualeta Atroholm—Lord of Creation, one of the Clock Tower's Twelve Lords—it's truly my honor."
◇◇◇
A short while later, inside Rhodes's Arcane Garden—now the Clock Tower's hottest spot and the single largest commercial storefront in Britain—Inorai lounged on a leather sofa, studying the boy before her with keen interest.
He looked about fifteen or sixteen. Dressed in a pristine white suit, a cloak draped across his shoulders, the fabric bunched casually against the sofa like a cape—yet rather than sloppy, it lent him a sense of mystery.
Dark red hair framed flawless, profound eyes. His features were sharp, touched with chill austerity, and in those eyes lay a wisdom far beyond his years—enough that one couldn't help but see him as an equal.
At least, Inorai did. At that age, she could never have achieved what he had.
"Before we discuss business, may I make a proposal?" Inorai asked with a smile, though her tone was grave.
"Go ahead." Rhodes lifted a cup of fine red tea imported from the Celestial Empire. Compared to Britain's blends muddied with odds and ends, the pure, fragrant taste was far superior.
"Would you consider becoming my student? To be the chief disciple of the Clock Tower's Creation Department Lord." Inorai's face was serious, her words delivered evenly. "More than that, I want you to abandon the inept Yggdmillennia and join the Valualeta bloodline. As compensation, I'll grant you the position of next Valualeta head, along with the crown of one of the Twelve Lords."
"And what then? Sit here in this little town, churning out Mystic Codes for your family's profit like some machine? What's the point of such rank and title?" Rhodes rejected her outright, wholly unmoved by the gilded trap.
"…Unwilling? A pity." Inorai frowned. Even such a fat bait hadn't stunned him—that alone made her regard him more highly. "Then let's move to the next matter. You may select any Valualeta woman of direct descent. Leave behind a seed. In exchange, we'll provide you with two billion pounds' worth of Magecraft materials."
"Tch. Siring again, is it? Magi really are all the same. Do you seriously believe wisdom and thought patterns can be passed down along with Magic Circuits?"
His voice dripped with mockery. Inorai, however, nodded calmly.
"Of course. Magecraft allows us to optimize the next generation—to achieve true 'inheritance.'"
"..." Rhodes had no words to retort. He forced a calm expression instead. "Can we talk business now? We can revisit your… extracurricular proposals later."
"As it should be." Whether she sensed his impatience or simply wished to delay, Inorai's tone turned brisk. "We wish to purchase your Mystic Codes in bulk, to equip the family's magus troops. What say you?"
"Music to my ears. No merchant would turn down pounds falling into his lap." Rhodes's smile was warm, his sharpness now hidden. "The price is negotiable—but as a condition, I'd like several living Werewolves from the Valualeta in return. What do you say?"
"So be it. As you wish."