"Why are we taking the magic train…"
Shane stared listlessly out at the dull scenery sliding past the window and let out a sigh.
He propped his chin on one hand while the other absentmindedly traced circles on the glass, which was fogged over with a thin layer of mist.
"If it's just about getting there, I could've flown you over myself, Master. It would've been faster, and we could've saved the cost of two tickets."
"This is exactly where young people don't get it."
Makarov sat across from him with a cup of hot tea he'd just bought, eyes half-lidded in contentnt as he spoke at a leisurely pace.
"What's the point of getting there early? There's nothing fun there. If everyone hasn't arrived yet, we'd just be sitting around like idiots."
The old man blew on the surface of his tea and put on the expression of a seasoned strategist.
"Rather than going there early and waiting to be stared at, it's better to arrive right on ti. Waiting for people is a pain. Much better to make other people wait for us. More dignified, and more comfortable."
"…"
That is such a twisted piece of logic, and sohow I can't even argue with it.
Shane rolled his eyes and said, "Looking at how relaxed you are…"
"You don't seem like you're headed to so serious conference. You look more like an old man going on a spring outing."
"Well, at the core of it, there's not much difference."
Makarov set down his tea and slowly kneaded his aching shoulder.
"This so-called 'Local Guild Alliance eting' is officially ant to pass along the Magic Council's latest decisions, coordinate opinions between the regional guilds, and manage the order among them…"
"But in reality, every eting is basically just a bunch of stubborn old n using so grand excuse to get together, throw a banquet, compete at drinking, and brag."
As soon as he said that, Makarov seed to realize it made guildmasters sound rather undignified, so he quickly coughed into his fist and tried to salvage the situation in a serious tone.
"Ahem. Of course, we do still handle the important matters! After all, with a Wizard Saint like your master here attending, the eting still carries plenty of weight!"
"A Wizard Saint, huh…"
Shane's gaze dropped to Makarov's usual beige coat.
Pinned to the right side of his chest was an exquisite badge.
A deep blue background, with a silver cross in the center.
That was the emblem of the Wizard Saints, awarded by the Magic Council to represent the ten strongest mages on the continent.
Co to think of it, although he'd heard plenty about the strength of the Wizard Saints, and knew their old master was unfathomably powerful, most of the ti all he ever saw was Makarov flipping through swimsuit magazines or getting verbally torn apart by the Council. He'd barely ever seen him fight seriously.
"This eting… are there any other Wizard Saints attending besides you, Master?"
Shane straightened up a little, curiosity piqued.
"There are."
The ease on Makarov's face faded a little, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"But… one of them is an especially disgusting bastard."
"Is that so."
That didn't seem strange to Shane at all.
Strong people usually had odd personalities. Compared to that, a lecherous, fiercely protective old man like his own master was pretty mild. He wouldn't even be surprised if the others were outright lunatics.
Not getting along with them was perfectly normal.
"If that bastard shows up, don't bother with him."
Makarov gave the warning deliberately, his tone dripping with undisguised disdain.
"So there's history there, huh?"
Rather than being worried, Shane's interest only deepened.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because that bastard has always been bitter about Fairy Tail being recognized as Fiore's number one guild."
Makarov let out a cold laugh, disdain flashing in his eyes.
"He's always stubbornly believed only his Phantom Lord is the strongest, and he thinks we stole the spotlight from him."
"A fight over reputation, huh…"
Shane rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then asked with a grin, "So what's the truth? Which one of you is stronger?"
"Smack!"
Makarov slapped him upside the head, his mustache twitching.
"What are you grinning like that for? You already know the answer, don't you?"
The old man puffed up his chest proudly.
"Fairy Tail is obviously the best guild!"
As they chatted, the magic train rattled onward toward the north.
The scenery outside gradually changed.
The plains disappeared, replaced by jagged rock formations and interwoven ravines.
"This is…"
Shane recognized the familiar terrain.
Web Valley.
The sa place where he'd once co for the S-Class exam.
"The destination is Clover City."
Makarov glanced out the window, drained the rest of his tea, and smoothed the wrinkles in his coat.
"Get ready to get off. Once we pass through this canyon, we're there."
Not long after, they got off the train. Instead of entering the busy city, they took a forest path leading toward the outskirts.
Although it was supposed to be an official venue used specifically for hosting Wizard Saints and the masters of major guilds, its architecture was surprisingly plain.
There was nothing gold-plated or ostentatious about it—just a massive stone building nestled against the mountain, built from stacked brick. It looked more like a countryside lodge for vacations than anything official.
Before entering, Makarov stopped and turned to Shane with unusual seriousness.
"Rember this. If you really do run into that bastard, and he starts provoking you, don't get worked up."
"If anything happens, tell . I'll deal with it for you."
He really was worried that this kid—who looked calm on the outside but was full of bad ideas—might stir up sothing major in a place like this.
"Don't worry, Master."
Shane waved it off with a harmless smile.
"I'm just a hanger-on here for the free food. I'm definitely not going to embarrass the guild."
Makarov stared at him for two seconds, then nodded.
Shane did occasionally pull sothing outrageous, but he always had a sense of proportion. He wasn't like the others, the kind who would get provoked twice and charge straight in.
"Fine. Just make sure you know what you're doing."
Neither of them had brought luggage.
After they entered, Makarov had soone show Shane to his room so he'd know the way, then brought him along to the main banquet hall.
Creak.
The heavy doors swung open.
The banquet hall was already brightly lit, and quite a few guildmasters in various uniforms were gathered in small groups, chatting over drinks.
"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Makarov."
Before Shane even had ti to take in the room properly, a harsh, sinister voice rang out.
"So many people waiting on you—does being the 'number one guild' an you get to act this high and mighty?"
The voice carried with unnerving force, and the once lively hall fell instantly quiet.
All eyes turned toward the entrance.
Shane, however, followed the voice instead.
At the center of the hall, beside the long table, sat a man in dark robes.
He was tall and thin, wearing a pointed, crooked wizard hat. Two long, drooping mustaches hung from either side of his mouth.
His chin was narrow and sharp, his cheekbones high and jutting, his eye sockets deeply sunken. Everything about his face scread anness, cunning, and sothing deeply unpleasant.
"We're not even past the scheduled gathering ti yet, are we?"
Faced with such blatant provocation, Makarov looked completely unsurprised.
Hands clasped behind his back, he sauntered into the hall and replied without even looking at the man.
"You're awfully concerned with my schedule. What's wrong, Jose Porla? Thinking of learning from —the guildmaster of Fiore's number one guild—how to actually run a guild?"
"Hmph!"
The man called Jose's face darkened, and a cold wave of magic pressure rose faintly from his body. Even the temperature in the hall seed to drop.
"A barbaric guild that gets summons from the Council every other week for causing trouble has no right to talk about 'managent.'"
"And yet our reputation is still better than Phantom Lord's!"
Makarov shot back without yielding an inch.
"At least our guild protects its comrades, instead of doing anything for money!"
Their exchange was like blades clashing, and the whole hall instantly filled with the sll of gunpowder.
Most of the smaller and mid-sized guildmasters shrank back, not daring to butt in at all.
"Jose?"
Standing behind Makarov, Shane fixed his gaze on the man.
So this was the other Wizard Saint Makarov had ntioned?
He noticed that hanging at Jose's collar was a Wizard Saint emblem identical to Makarov's.
"The master of Phantom Lord…"
Shane observed him with growing interest.
That pressure prickling against his skin wasn't fake. The man definitely had strength worthy of the title.
"He really does look… seriously strong."
~~~
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