บท 53: Chapter 51
"I don't have time to sit through your thousand-year-old grievances, arguments, complaints, and so on. I came here with my apprentice, and that's not why we're here," a new figure interjected — a woman who, by appearance alone, was clearly Asian. "Let's compare the skill of our apprentices rather than flaunt our wit, of which we are all well aware."
Judging by the lack of a kimono, which I'd noticed on three other women here, and her overall style… she was Chinese. And Magical China is… well, it's chaos. Total chaos.
So, this level of rationality from her was surprising. Wu Zetian. Good thing she came.
"The famous Chinese empress?" I murmured, shifting my gaze to a boy of about thirteen sitting next to her, likely of the same origin. He noticed my glance, then offered a slight smile and closed his eyes in a polite greeting. I returned to looking away from the residents of this place.
Self-control aside, I hadn't had that in over fifteen years, technically speaking.
"Finally, someone said it!" Semiramis raised her voice. "Thank you, Wu," she nodded at the Asian woman, who had indeed shown more wisdom today. And if one could trust the Chinese novels about how patriarchal Ancient China was and how hard it was to become not just an independent woman, but a full Empress — especially one with real power — it was no wonder she became so renowned. There were countless empresses who were merely decorative figures.
As for Medea, while she could've interrupted these blatant quarrels between these millennia-old women, she clearly didn't want to. It was easier for her to wait six hours than it was for me, and I'd probably sooner hang myself than endure it — whether or not there was a gallows nearby. I'd transfigure one if I had to.
And if they were discussing anything new that I could actually use, I'd bear it. But no, and Semiramis had already explained why.
"All set?" Semiramis asked when the bickering witches had finally retreated to the opposite corners of their imaginary ring. She smiled broadly as several angry glares shot her way. "Wonderful. Since today we're all present — unlike last time and the time before that — let's proceed with our agreed introductions of each apprentice. Briefly," she added with a wave of her long, pointed fingers as she took a seat on the chair-throne behind her. "Inanna?"
"Yes, yes, that's me," rose a dark-haired, dusky-skinned beauty with pointed ears and white-and-gold attire, seated on a sort of bed she'd transfigured during my presence here.
"My apprentice is Siduri. She's from these lands, a mathematical genius, and wonderfully adept at constructing and modifying various rituals. It's truly a pity she was born so late. A thousand years ago, I would've gladly taken her in as well, and she would've made a worthy addition to us all." Inanna gestured to the young woman, who gave a respectful bow. Siduri wore attire similar to her mentor's, though in green, with a long white head-covering and… I'm not sure what to call it, but it resembled the lower part of a hijab that covers everything below the eyes.
Siduri's was semi-transparent, making her facial features easy to see.
She stood with confidence and calm, her gaze focused modestly on Semiramis, who was visibly pleased by what she saw — she made no effort to hide her approval. Siduri effortlessly held a substantial stone tablet, which, despite its unassuming appearance, was quite a powerful artifact. I was already curious about its workings.
Such an atypical accessory, even for a servant of an ancient sorceress. Of course, I base my assumptions on Medea, and Her Highness isn't exactly a reformist or a progressive in every sense. In some ways, she's more conservative than many.
And… that was it. The first witch was brief, returning to her seat, while her apprentice calmly took a few steps back, once again standing just behind Inanna's shoulder. By the way, isn't that the name of some Sumerian goddess?… After these three days, it looks like I'll be buried in history books, maybe even Muggle ones. I'm keen to compare what Muggles think happened with what really did.
From the following minutes, during which several more great witches introduced their apprentices, I realized that the order Semiramis mentioned was more or less by seniority. Some names I recognized, others I didn't. I've never claimed to be an expert in history, especially ancient history. Plus, information about some of them might simply not have survived to the present day — it's possible. One of them, as Medea pointed out, had personally erased all mentions of herself… in quite a radical way.
I'd come across an article once about mysteriously vanished ancient civilizations, so in this reality, they could very well have been wiped out by one of Her Highness's colleagues.
Eventually, our turn came. Medea rose from her seat, gestured toward me to step forward slightly, and as she began to speak, I bowed with all the… well, elegance I could muster.
"My apprentice… Adalbert. A descendant of Siegfried, from Germanic — or Celtic, if you prefer — lands. Remarkably diligent for his age, respectful to his elders, a genius in combat spells and Dark Magic." Medea turned her head pointedly toward the rowdiest of the apprentices at that rather embarrassing list of my so-called virtues, then finished, surprising me quite a bit, and sat back down.
When the focus shifted from me to the woman after us — a certain Makeda with semi-transparent attire, whose name I also couldn't recall, even in the context of the earlier mention of King Solomon — I glanced questioningly at the Colchian woman.
"Speak up, no need to stare like that," she noted, as expected.
"I'm a genius in combat spells and Dark Magic?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "First I've heard of it."
"What do you even think the word genius means… apprentice?" she replied, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. "People have frequently changed its meaning throughout history. Besides, let's be honest — you've heard others mention your talent more than once."
"But you're aware of my… unique circumstances," I replied, vaguely referring to my rebirth — a fact she knew, the only one in the world, really.
"And what difference does that make? You simply couldn't display your talents back then, for quite mundane reasons." It was her turn to veil the fact that magic simply didn't exist in my original world. "I see I haven't convinced you. I won't press further; that's your choice. Lastly, I'll say that you're comparing yourself to geniuses in more down-to-earth fields — like, say, Siduri — and that's fundamentally flawed."
"I'll rely on your wisdom," I said, inclining my head, deciding not to argue. Right now — and really, at any time — it would be foolish to argue with someone with such obvious superiority in the field at hand.
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