Expelled From a Black Magic Item Craftsman Guild, I Was Picked up as a Royal Magician

Chapter 155

Chapter 155 – A Girl’s Memory

My teacher was a defender of justice.

With pride and conviction, he was always a champion for the oppressed.

His house was humble and poor. It shook every time the wind blew.
The roof would leak when it rained, and the floorboards were rotted.

But it was there that he held lessons.
While taking very little as a monthly fee, he kindly taught magic to the common folk children.

At the orphanage, there was one wild boy who no one could control.
He would always be causing problems and would fight with the older boys.

But my teacher still taught magic to him passionately.
He would continue to work with him sincerely.

And then the boy started to like magic.

He stopped fighting and causing trouble.

There was a father whose daughter became ill.
It was a stormy night.

He was the lord of a noble house.
But he was unable to get in contact with his doctor. And so he ran to the house of a magic doctor that lived nearby, but the bridge had been destroyed in a flood.

He felt like the most powerless man in the world.
His daughter would likely not get through this night.
But as he wallowed in despair, he suddenly remembered the teacher.

An old, wasted outcast of a man. Or so the people said.

Normally, he would not have even spoken to such a man. But in desperation, the father asked him for help.

And my teacher succeeded in treating the daughter with his magic.

It is thanks to him that I am still alive today.

And so I was deeply grateful towards him.
And I started to attend his classes.

Little by little, I learned more about him.

Long ago, my teacher was a Royal Magician.
And he fought against a world of corruption.

He had been trying to expose the misdeeds of a certain great noble.

Bribery.
Smuggling of illegal potions and weapons.
Abuse towards children at the orphanage.

Such things had been continually erased, and he was attempting to bring them to light.

But he lost.

It was a hopeless, miserable defeat with no prospect of salvation.

Everyone blamed him for those horrible crimes.

He was treated as the worst criminal, and even after serving thirty years in prison, the weight of the accusations were heavy on him.

He always looked apologetic.

“It hurts to know that people are afraid.” He would often mutter.

He was over seventy years old, and was small and frail.

However, when monsters attacked the town, he would always put himself in danger to protect others.

And though he was wrinkled and bald, he was more impressive than anyone that I knew.

I liked him a lot. I had a deep respect, and wanted to protect him.

Even if everyone in the world was his enemy, I would always be on his side.

One summer, when I was ten years old, I was invited to his house.

He served me some cold tea and said,

“I’m sorry. But I have one request to make.”

And then,

“I want you to take this book. If something happens to me, you must give it to your father.”

But he said that I must not look inside of it.

And while I tried hard to obey this order, there was something about the secret of this book that drew me in, and I could not resist its power.

(It will be fine as long as I do not tell anyone)

And so I opened the book.
However, I could not understand its contents.

His writing was clean, but the words were too difficult for a child to understand.
Some of them were written in code so the meaning was deliberately hidden.

But with a dictionary I had received as a present for my birthday, I slowly went through the book and understood its meaning.

And then I realized that it was a record of evidence in regards to the great noble, who he had failed to expose forty years ago.

The records included descriptions of events that took place over the past decade.

He had not given up.

Despite being falsely accused and sentenced to thirty years in prison, he continued to strive to be a champion of justice.

I then remembered something he had once said.

“I know why I was born, and why I am living now. And so no matter how terrible my situation may be, I still feel fulfilled and happy.”

I thought then about how much I respected him.

(No, I can’t just think about it. I should tell him with words.)

I suppose I wanted to encourage him.

Show that I was on his side, regardless of what anyone else said.

And so on the morning of the following day, I headed to his house.
It was a calm and peaceful morning, like any other.

The sky was blue and thin clouds drifted above.
I could hear the crying of cicadas.
The summer sun was warm, and the wind brushed my cheeks gently.

I was in such high spirits that I ran the rest of the way to my teacher’s house.

There was a crowd of people there.

And what I saw then, I shall not forget for the rest of my life.

My teacher was dead.
His body was covered in wounds, shriveled, dried, and dark red in color.

Evidence of unspeakable torture.

The body was taken away by people connected to a great noble.

Twenty-nine other crimes were attributed to him, and he died as a criminal.

After that, I gave the book to my father.

His voice shook after reading it.

“This is terrible indeed. You do not know of it. You have never seen it. Yes, I found it by accident. That is all.”

He sounded incredibly anxious.
I had never seen my father like that before, and so I nodded with confusion.

My father then submitted the book to the High Court.

The highest judicial institution of the Kingdom of Ardenfeld.
In addition to the usual judicial authority, it possessed legislative and administrative powers to register decrees and laws and give advice to the king.

“There is something that I must speak to you about.”

The one who came to inquire was a judicial officer from the High Court.
The judicial officer, along with colleagues, listened to my family’s account.

I obeyed my father and pretended that I did not know anything.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

I remember watching them leave, and thinking about how reliable they looked.
And I felt a sense of relief deep inside.

That I had been able to accomplish what he asked of me.

And then a year passed.
It was hard to believe how peaceful and quiet it was.

The corrupt noble accused by my teacher was now criticizing the kingdom’s taxation system, and pretending to be fighting for justice.

Two years passed.
Nothing happened.
Perhaps they were taking time to father more evidence.

And then ten years passed.
Even if I was a fool, by then, I understood what was happening.

The High Court had decided to sweep everything under the rug.

It should not have been a surprise.

A world where honest people are made fools of.

Justice and righteousness were nothing against authority.

It was a rotten world of the wicked and corrupt. And there was no hope.

That was why I decided to follow my teacher’s footsteps.

As a champion of justice.

I would fulfill my teacher’s final wishes.

It took me six years to recover the contents of the notebook.
I desperately squeezed out the forgotten details.
And then took another thirteen years to confirm it.
Gathering evidence that had been hidden so carefully was difficult. Blood and sweat. Obsessive effort.

However, it was nothing to me.

Compared to his thirty years.
A fragile life of sadness after losing everything.

(Watch me, teacher. I shall cast those villains into the pits of hell for you.)

“…Vice-captain?”

Apparently, I had been in a daze.
I held the side of my head and turned around.

“What is it?”
“I have come to submit the expedition report from last week.”

The magician said with politely, and then handed me the report.

“Um, is everything alright? You had such a severe expression that…”
“Is that so? Perhaps I am a little tired. Thank you.”

As the magician left, I reminded myself that I must stay calm.

I could not allow others to suspect anything.

If they found out, then they might get pulled into it.

(I’m sorry, Ms. Noelle.)