Show Them a Fierce One - chapter 4

Salamander finally remembered where she had heard the name “Ludwig” before.

But at this very moment, she was already sitting in the principal’s office with her younger brother.

The principal of Sky Fortress, Tacitus, was a devotee of complexity, favoring an exaggerated and layered style. Even with a spatial expansion spell cast on the spacious office, it still gave the impression of being overwhelmed by countless works of art.

In Salamander’s words, it was obvious at a glance that he was a kindred spirit to her brother.

The only difference was that Anuo preferred to invest in classical and ornate items, while Principal Tacitus was more adventurous, purchasing mostly bizarre and avant-garde pieces. Of course, anything currently trending on the market could also be found in the old principal’s office. For example, the Divine Language Machine, which had only been in production for a few years.

The Divine Language Machine, to put it simply, was a magical version of a radio and television combined.

Its appearance was about the size of a phonograph, invented by an Alchemist who loved tinkering, funded by Anuo. The prototype Divine Language Machine now sat in Anuo’s bedroom. Anuo had once hoped to leap straight into the age of internet surfing for Falres, but as good as the idea was, civilization could not advance overnight.

Currently, the Alchemist funded by Anuo had managed to make the Divine Language Machine receive more signals in areas covered by magic. Due to its high cost and slow reduction in production expenses, the Divine Language Machine was only popular among nobles and some merchants.

Principal Tacitus’s Divine Language Machine resembled a circus tent, and was now happily broadcasting all sorts of strange and possibly fabricated news from across the continent.

For instance, a small nation among the Seven Nations of the Sea Race had suddenly announced the discovery of what might be the ruins of the Sea God’s Three Migrations;

Dragon Island had once again experienced irregular and violent tremors, with experts suspecting it to be a sign of ancient dragons awakening;

And most importantly, according to the tailor who sewed the purple sable fur cloak for the commander of the Nors Legion, Lord Ludwig might choose this winter to hold his Elector investiture ceremony, while the Dark Church had yet to comment on the matter.

Only then did Salamander realize: Ludwig was the new duke of the House of Asmodeus, one of the supreme four among the Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Gods of the Demon Race, with authority over seventy-two demon legions. She just didn’t know why his true name had only recently been revealed by the House of Asmodeus.

Anuo had also heard the news, his surprise written plainly on his face. Salamander didn’t even need to interpret it to guess what her brother was thinking. He was surely wondering, “This commander has the same name as my new friend, even the same surname. The Demon Race really is fascinating.”

Salamander had to remind him before he could speak: “Ludwig is just a name.” She truly couldn’t understand why, despite growing up in such an environment, her brother always seemed to have a different system for understanding names.

“Oh-oh.” Now Anuo understood. Westerners liked to name their children after leaders, like Caesar or Arthur. Ludwig’s thrifty parents really knew how to save trouble.

Salamander: …Is it possible that your new friend is actually the commander of the Norsmo Legion?

This not-so-warm sibling conversation finally ended when Principal Tacitus appeared, wearing strange wooden shoes printed with various patterns. Two pairs of identical green eyes simultaneously turned to the principal of Sky Fortress, filled with concern.

This remarkable principal, recently, at the age of a thousand, had suddenly taken up the retro hobby of blacksmithing, only to unfortunately strain his back. His previous visitor had been the school physician of Sky Fortress.

When the Salamander siblings entered, Principal Tacitus, undeterred by his injury, insisted on using wind magic to seat himself, only to fall again. Now, after a second round of treatment, he made his return, inching his way onto a stack of soft cushions with the help of his assistant. The pile was at least a dozen cushions high, precariously balanced, just enough for the short Dwarf Race principal to meet the eyes of the tall Elf siblings when seated.

Yes, the Magic Saint principal of Sky Fortress was a Dwarf Race master of Forbidden Spells.

When people on the continent thought of the Dwarf Race, their first impressions were usually ruddy noses, bad tempers, or master weapon smiths. But Principal Tacitus was different; he stood at the pinnacle of the continent’s magical hierarchy, and no one dared underestimate him because of his height or childlike appearance, especially not after he strained his back.

After apologizing to Her Majesty the Queen for “delaying your precious time due to some personal matters,” the principal let everything begin anew.

He smiled kindly, his tone gentle, first having his assistant serve the Elf siblings across from him a cup of ice slush each, warmly introducing it as his favorite this summer. The delicate, smooth ice slush was infused with a generous amount of freshly squeezed Sunset Orange juice-tangy, sweet, and especially appetizing.

“Please don’t worry, I didn’t invite you here to hold Prince Anuo accountable for nearly blowing up the school,” Principal Tacitus first reassured Salamander. “In fact, aside from the glass in the grand hall, we suffered no further losses. Because of this incident, the board even approved my proposal from thirty-three years ago-to replace all classroom glass with panes engraved with protective magic runes. They’ve finally done something sensible for the education at Sky Fortress.”

The Dwarf Race principal, nestled against a soft pumpkin cushion, swayed contentedly, the very picture of happiness. Anyone who could win a battle with capitalists while bedridden would be delighted.

“What I really want to discuss with you is your education.”

Salamander was taken aback. She glanced at her brother, who was slowly unwrapping a disposable straw from its packaging. Unable to bear it, she listened to the principal while helping her brother tear it open and even inserted it into his ice slush for him.

Principal Tacitus observed the interaction between the Elf siblings, feeling it perfectly illustrated what he wanted to express: “I know how extraordinary you are-born with the power of an Archmage, breaking through to Grand Archmage before the age of thirty… I’ve heard my old friend-your teacher-praise and extol you countless times. Your strength is beyond doubt, and the Elf Kingdom will surely continue the glory of Kabala Forest under your leadership.”
Salamander accepted these words without a shred of modesty; she truly was the most powerful queen the Elf Race had seen in millennia.

“However,” Principal Tacitus, well-versed in the art of sandwich conversation, continued, “I also hope you understand that not every Elf in this world can be a genius like you, even if he was born from the same bud as you…”

“You cannot do everything for him.”

Simply put, this Dwarf Magic Saint, who could have achieved even greater mastery in magic, only wanted to be a competent principal. He cared not only about his students’ grades, but also about their healthy development. When a typically laid-back student suddenly showed a surge in power, Principal Tacitus’s first thought could only be that the student’s parent was trying to force growth.

Anuo had his own strengths, at least in Tacitus’s eyes; there was no Elf who understood life better than Anuo. His learning progress was indeed slower than most, but it was clearly methodical-he never stood still.

…He just progressed rather slowly.

For the first time in her life, Her Majesty Salamander found herself bearing such a heavy burden, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And the culprit who made her shoulder this blame was happily slurping on a frozen smoothie beside her, like a little train, eating and eating and eating.

“Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not blaming you. I know it all comes from love.” Principal Tacitus’s beady eyes were filled with sincerity. “Personally, I greatly admire you. You were able to break the Elf Race’s generations-old bias of valuing females over males, and you take your brother’s magical education seriously. That’s truly remarkable.”

If one had to point out a flaw in the perfect Elf, it would probably be the tendency to value females over males.

It’s not traditional gender discrimination. Rather, Elves believe that females are naturally superior to males in magical development. This trait was bestowed by the Goddess of Nature when she created the Mother Tree, and no one can change it-it is an objective fact that must be acknowledged. Coupled with the Elves’ innate archery talent for self-defense, they tend to pay less attention to male Elves’ magical studies. Boys, after all, can just learn a little, and that’s enough.

Anuo is, to date, the only male Elf to leave the Elven King’s Land and attend a formal magic school. When Her Majesty Salamander made this decision against all opposition, it made headlines in major newspapers across the races. Everyone tried to analyze her political motives, power calculations, and the future continental landscape…

But the real reason was simply that Salamander’s usually indifferent brother, for the first time, showed unprecedented passion and longing for something.

“That-is-Hogwarts.” Young Anuo even learned to link his words together.

“It’s Sky Fortress Magic School,” Salamander, equally young but already burdened with the responsibilities of a queen, corrected her brother.

Back then, Anuolaide still had a head of soft white curls, so adorable one could almost want to eat him up.

The queen, pulling herself out of her memories, thought of how her once sweet and soft little brother had become so lazy now, and couldn’t help but want to ask the Three Goddesses of Fate what kind of strange future they had woven for him.

Salamander glared angrily at her brother, who was still slurping his smoothie, before continuing her conversation with the principal: “If I told you I didn’t force him to open a single textbook all summer, would you believe me?”

Anuo’s summer was nothing short of blissful. He spent his time shopping at auctions or spreading his wings before the statues in the Pantheon. At one point, the overworked Salamander was so tempted to drag him off to help grade Parchment on the spot. She just couldn’t stand seeing him so relaxed!

Principal Tacitus was silent for a moment before saying, “…He should at least look at his textbooks.” After all, it was a long, two-month vacation. Now, he wasn’t worried about forced growth, but was instead puzzled as to how the Prince Brother managed to finish his summer homework.

Surely it couldn’t have been a miracle created in a single night?

For Anuo, who had never been quick at writing, that truly would be a miracle.

“Ahem.” Salamander felt a bit guilty; she hadn’t wanted to help her brother with his homework, but time really had run out.

While Salamander was facing the interrogation of her conscience, her unlucky brother was finishing an entire smoothie at a speed that was, for him, astonishing. After finishing, he looked at her with expectant eyes.

Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words.

Salamander ruthlessly refused her brother: “No, you’ll get a stomachache.”

“No-I-won’t,” Anuo insisted. He was a perfect Elf; how could he possibly get a stomachache from one more smoothie? The Goddess of Nature would never do that to him!

“Heh.” Salamander couldn’t be bothered to argue with her brother. She was focused solely on figuring out what was going on with Anuo’s power.

The only one in this world who could currently answer that question was sitting right now in the reception room outside the principal’s office, eyes lowered, face cold, one hand removing his rimless glasses, the other tapping irregularly on the armrest of a willow chair.

Ludwig’s Origin Power had first shown signs of trouble about two months ago on the Pandemonium battlefield. Although it lasted only a brief moment, it was enough for him to use the natural opposition between Light Magic and dark creatures to kill his greatest enemy faster, ending the civil war ahead of schedule.

While outsiders still thought the Demon Race was merely about to end its peace, the truth was that over a month ago, the entire Connacht Region of the Demon Realm had already fallen under the Conqueror Ludwig’s control.

This “mongrel,” once scorned as fit only to fight stray dogs for scraps in the filthiest depths, had openly taken over the House of Asmodeus, trampling all the high and mighty dual-blacks beneath his feet. Yet after winning the war, he couldn’t even be bothered to spare them a glance, because he had more important matters to attend to-like finally realizing that his Origin Power wasn’t malfunctioning, but had been swapped with someone else’s.

Though this mysterious Light element was indeed useful, Ludwig still disliked others meddling with his things.

Now, he had finally found the other party.