Mystery was the wellspring of power for magi in this world.
As technology advanced, human inquiry peeled that Mystery away layer by layer. With it went the strength of magecraft itself. Modern magi stood far beneath their ancient predecessors.
The recent waves of industrial revolution only hastened the decline. Mystery thinned. Spells weakened. In the Age of Gods, a simple suggestion could bend a person's will outright. In the modern era, even altering memories strained the limits of magecraft.
The Arcane Magic Rhodes commanded followed an entirely different logic.
It did not rely on Mystery as a conceptual crutch. Arcane Magic was closer to extortion—forcing the world itself to yield power. An Arcanist seized countless concepts, refined them into discrete elements, and stored them within structures called "strings," sometimes referred to as arcs.
Each string represented one opportunity for a human body to pluck at the world's laws.
The stronger the caster, the greater the number of strings they could maintain.
Twelve years passed.
Rhodes was no longer a helpless infant. He had grown into a slightly frail young man—dark red hair in disarray, pale features fixed in a perpetually disinterested scowl. An ill-tempered prodigy, if one were feeling generous.
He stood inside a dim workshop, staring at his own hands.
"Still not enough," he muttered. "Twelve years, and I've only stabilized eight strings."
He clicked his tongue.
"Though it hardly matters. The rules between these worlds are incompatible. Translating spells into magecraft is slow work. So far I've only completed a few Arcane Magic Cantrips, and those don't even require strings."
As he spoke, something soft pressed against the back of his head.
Rhodes leaned back despite himself.
Behind him stood a full-figured woman, perhaps in her late twenties. It was the same "inferior" golem that had fed him milk twelve years ago.
Under Rhodes' guidance—no, his reconstruction—her appearance remained unchanged. She still lacked true speech. Yet her movements had grown fluid. Her expressions, faint but present. After he implanted the lingering soul of a young woman who had died in an accident, the golem had acquired a troublesome thing.
Emotion.
"Tch."
Rhodes grimaced at the softness beneath his skull.
"I regret engraving emotional routines into your core."
He reached across the desk and picked up two sheets of parchment, holding them out without turning around.
"Deliver these as a formal visit request. The Edelfelt family in Finland. Those war hounds will understand their value."
He flicked the parchment lightly.
Elegant handwriting filled the pages.
On the Replacement of Natural Crystals with Artificial Crystals in Magecraft Storage: Principles and Mass Production.
A piece of advanced theory, without question.
As for whether Rhodes had written it himself—
The Archwizard preferred efficiency. He had the unfortunate busty golem write through the entire night.
◇◇◇
Several hours later, beneath a parasol in a sunlit courtyard, three figures sat around a small table, savoring Helsinki coffee.
To an Arcanist, a clear mind mattered more than any defensive spell. Rhodes treasured the drink.
Across from him sat an old woman and a blonde girl barely eleven or twelve years old.
"An impressive paper," the old woman said. Her voice was hoarse but steady. "Did you truly produce this yourself? You're very young."
Her face was lined like tree bark, yet there was no decay in her bearing. Only sharpness. The composure of a veteran scholar.
"Young?" Rhodes replied coolly. "If age determined worth, turtles would rule the world. My experience may be shallow, but this level of work is well within reach."
The old woman smiled faintly.
"You realize this paper alone could earn you a Sealing Designation from the Clock Tower's Department of Law. Revealing it publicly is reckless. Why not offer it to the Yggdmillennia main family? That would maximize your returns."
"Different priorities." Rhodes spoke with a politician's calm precision. "I prefer Edelfelt to ignorant aristocrats. You're called elegant hunting dogs for a reason."
He took a sip of coffee.
"Besides, why should the strong fear the jealousy of the weak? A Sealing Designation is nothing more than the resentment of the powerless."
The old woman studied him from above.
"Interesting. Especially if you truly are as young as you appear." Her gaze pressed down like a weight. "Very well. The Edelfelt family accepts this transaction. In exchange for this research, we will guarantee your safety and legitimate rights."
She paused.
"Provided the data is genuine."
For the Edelfelt family, nothing caused more pain across generations than the cost of Jewel Magecraft.
Like the Tohsaka line, they sealed spells into gems, bypassing incantations in battle at the cost of consuming precious stones.
There was even a saying among them: the depth of one's wallet decided victory.
If artificial crystals could replace natural ones, the savings would be incalculable.
All of it, of course, was bait.
Rhodes possessed far more than this surface knowledge.
"Excuse me," he said, standing as a young maid handed him a contract bearing the Edelfelt family head's signature. "I have experiments waiting. I'll take my leave."
"Wait, Mr. Rhodes."
The old woman smiled pleasantly.
"How would you feel about introducing your bloodline?"
Rhodes' expression twisted.
"In what sense?"
She answered as calmly as if discussing lunch.
"Join with a woman of the Edelfelt family. Produce a child. You bear no responsibility. The child belongs to Edelfelt. In return, half the profits from artificial crystals are yours."
"An awful deal."
Rhodes glanced sideways.
Across the table, the blonde girl frowned deeply, disgust plain on her face. She did not interrupt.
Perhaps that was the tragedy of nobility. Compared to a grotesque middle-aged man, Rhodes was considered a superior option.
"And this is?" Rhodes asked lightly.
The girl's eyes snapped to him, sharp with disdain.
"Luvia Edelfelt. Wipe that cheap pity off your face. I'm not the one borrowing your seed."
He smiled.
"Excellent." Something malicious glinted in his eyes. "I won't agree to breeding arrangements, but pursuing a 'pure' physical relationship with Miss Luvia is acceptable."
"You—!"
Luvia surged to her feet, ready to vault the table, but the old woman seized her sleeve and forced her back down.
"That suggestion is acceptable," the old woman said quietly. "I grant you permission to properly court Luvia."
The pressure in her gaze eased.
"Just what I hoped for."
Rhodes inclined his head.
"Please excuse me, Head of the Edelfelt family."
◇◇◇
After he left, the old woman watched the small figure recede.
A mocking smile touched her lips.
"So you noticed…"
Murder flickered beneath her gentle tone.
The proposal had never been about breeding. Time breeds attachment. She had intended to bind Rhodes to the Edelfelt war chariot that way.
His refusal tore the veil away. He was a future liability.
Yet his provocation of Luvia stayed her hand.
She wanted to see how far this brilliant boy would go.
Luvia was her investment.
As for whether Rhodes would ever end up in Luvia's bed—
Time was plentiful.