Main Story 2 Chapter 7: A Valuable Role

Chapter 8 here

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Part 7.1: The Conductors Par-Excellence

[Akira’s room]

Since I arrived in this world, I encountered wizards with all kinds of temperaments and worldviews. Before I knew it, I had come to love them, who were free-spirited and true to themselves.

Because of that, I was facing a dilemma. Would ‘cooperation’ for the sake of vanquishing the Great Calamity and protect the lives of everyone destroy their ‘individuality’? Would I end up re-shaping their free-spirited, true to themselves souls? That would be something I’d hate to see. For the self-willed wizards, I wanted them to have their freedom. Hurting them would be the last thing I’d want to do.

On the other hand,  perhaps we wouldn’t defeat the Great Calamity without ‘cooperation’. In that case, the world would be destroyed, and it was likely that I wouldn’t be able to preserve their ‘individuality’ either. In the face of that, maybe it’d be better to set ‘individuality’ aside and force feed them what I thought as ‘cooperation’. Everything was for their sake in the end.

Akira: (Would that be true though? They are the kind of people who value their hearts over their lives.)

What would be the right thing to do? What should be my priority? I couldn’t find an answer. As such, Rustica’s words were like a guiding light to me.

In a symphony, many musical instruments played their own sounds with their distinct individuality. A great conductor would make the right adjustment and lead the various distinctive sounds to harmonize beautifully without losing their own brilliance.  

[The lounge]

I prepared five Sage’s Guides and asked those Rustica recommended as being suited for the conductor role to meet me. Cain from Central Country, Bradley from Northern Country, Faust from Eastern Country, Figaro from Southern Country, and last but not least, Rustica from Western Country. Then I explained the situation to them without leaving out anything.

Akira: So far, you have been doing great work in handling the unusual incidents that occur around the world due to the influence of the Great Calamity. In addition to that, I would like to ask you to act in teams by country to track down the wizard Nova. We don’t know that his objective is, but it is clear that he had something to do with Nicholas, who tried to summon the Great Calamity. There are reports about traces of a ritual similar to what Nicholas attempted in every country. It looks like the wizard Nova has been building a faction that spans across the world.

Cain: Not only we don’t know who Nova’s cooperators are, we have to solve the puzzle that is Nova himself. So we are dealing with interferences from an unpredictable opponent in unexpected places.

Akira: That is indeed the case. From what I heard, Nicholas cooperated with Nova because he was told that he could become a wizard. Maybe there are similar people who want to become wizards. Or maybe some people are deceived by other kinds of lies and agree to join Nova’s faction.

Rustica: What he offers them is not necessarily a lie. The Great Calamity has never been summoned to this world after all. It is probable that all lives will be transformed into wizards the moment the Great Calamity makes contact with this world.

 

Chapter 7.2 The role of a conductor

Bradley: There’re just too many risks to attempt something like that. It’s also likely this world will shatter when it clashes with the Great Calamity.

Figaro: Countless people around the world are tempted to open the forbidden gate for all kinds of reasons, like meeting someone who has died or bringing about a new world. Similar to Nicholas, many people unwittingly helped with the destruction of the world even if that might not be their intention, I suppose. Just as Master Sage said, we’ve no idea who is in Nova’s faction. We’ll need to be cautious no matter which country we’re in.

Akira: Please do. There’s yet another thing I’d like you to take into account. Nova is a powerful wizard. From what Mithra told me, even a wizard on his level may not…

I stopped myself as I was about to say ‘may not win against Nova’. For Mithra’s honor, I wouldn’t say that even he would not win against this opponent.  

Akira: Ahem, Mithra said even someone like him would have a hard time against Nova. Apparently that is a possible outcome because there’s talk of Nova being as strong as Oz. That’s something I’d like to ask you, Bradley. You have encountered him too, right?

Bradley: Yeah.

Akira: I’d like to hear your opinions about what would happen when everyone here at Magic Manor happens to be in a fight against Nova.

Bradley gave it some thought then pointed at himself and Figaro with his thumb.

Bradley: Among this group, Figaro and I would barely manage it. As in, we would be able to escape with our lives. It’s painfully likely that Rutile would be captured and turned to stone. In Nero’s case, he’ll die if he’s alone.

Faust: It can’t be…

Figaro: And here I thought I would know if such a powerful wizard exists. How old is he? Is he a young one?

Bradley: No idea.

Cain: Apparently he has the ability to defeat Oz. Is that right?

Bradley: …………

Figaro: Hey hey, it isn’t that bad though, I think?

Bradley: No way to tell. I’ve never seen Oz when he gets serious. Don’t ask me.

Figaro: I see.

As a vein popped on Bradley’s head, Figaro made a troubled face.

Faust: So Nova is the kind of opponent that someone like Nero can’t escape from. In that case, we should avoid acting alone in locations where that Nova may appear.

Faust put into words what I wanted to say.

Akira: Definitely. That’s what I’d like to ask of you. Please try not to be alone as much as possible, so that the risk for everyone is minimized. Please communicate with each other and work together to protect yourselves.

As I said that, Cain nodded and Rustica made a bow.

Cain: Got it.

Rustica: I concur.

Akira: Thank you. simply reducing the amount of time you are alone will increase the time when you are safe. The issue is, there’re wizards who don’t take well to working in groups. Because of that, I’d like to ask the five of you here to take on the position of conductor and direct the wizards of each country.

Akira: Rustica has explained to me about the role of the conductor in an orchestra. Because each musical instrument has its own distinctive tone, it is necessary to harmonize them into one melody. I believe you are capable of such a task. Please be the guide and create such a harmony that we won’t lose anyone while everyone can still be themselves.

Akira: Also, I’d like you to collect everything and get back to me about what happens and how you go about your conducting role. This is for me, so that I won’t err when the time I take on that role comes. For that purpose, I’ve prepared these Sage’s Guides. I’ll really appreciate it if you would grant me this favor.  

 

Chapter 7.3 The response from each of them

I deeply bowed my head. My request was something tremendously difficult that I’d hate to ask of anyone. To put it in plain words, I was asking them to act as a leader. Wizards were individualistic and willful. As such, they hated being ordered around. As a result, the leader role was the most troublesome position.

A teacher’s role was to provide the eager-to-learn students with the appropriate knowledge. There was little need for either side to be concerned about the others’ mentality. However, a leader had to take the people who didn’t want to go anywhere to a destination. Accordingly, the leader might have to face objections, anger, and animosity from all sides. For example, Arthur, who acted as a bridge between wizards and humans, wouldn’t take on such a role on his own volition.

Actually, who would want to do that? No one had found a world where everyone was satisfied with the rules after all. Who would want to stand at the front and attract complaints and demands from all kinds of people? Who would want to be in command of a world facing destruction, where one step in the wrong direction might lead to total disaster? I myself would want to leave the world saving business to someone else and do my own things.

However, if no one took on that role, it was likely that the people I cherished would have to face a terrible future. With that in mind…

Akira: (But it will be difficult with just me alone, so I’m leaning on these five. I’m so sorry…)

Guilt filled my heart. I was pushing a role that I knew they would hate on my kind and capable friends. I thought that after I voiced my request, there would definitely be a long, uncomfortable silence. However, contrary to my expectations, Cain immediately replied.

Cain: Akira, no need to stand on such ceremony. I’ll do anything you ask of me. It makes me proud that you rely on me, you know.

Akira: Cain….

My heart was warmed by Cain’s sincere smile. It was a big help for me that he replied so casually in the moment I was being on edge about whether my request would be accepted.

Akira: Thank you, Cain.

Cain: It’s me who should thank you for deliberating our affairs so carefully.

Cain stepped forward and took one of the new Sage’s Guides, then gave me a bow. After him were Rustica and Figaro.

Rustica: It’s my honor to accept such an important role, Master Sage. I will take care of this Sage’s Guide as your proxy.

Akira: You have my gratitude, Rustica.

Figaro: I’ll gladly cooperate with you. There’s one thing though. You can’t read the script of this world, right?  

Akira: That’s true. Therefore, it’d be great if you can relay everything to me verbally when there’s time.

Figaro: Fine by me. I’m happy to have more time for a chat with you.

Akira: Thank you, Figaro.

The three of them accepted their Sage’s Guides with a smile. Meanwhile, there was someone who stood still with a grimace on his face.

 

Part 7.4 The prayer for nothing to change and the hope for the possibility of change

That was Faust.

Faust: I…

Frowning, Faust whispered in a subdued voice.

Faust: I can’t agree to it.

I thought Faust was angry at me for a second. However, a look at his face startled me. He was at a distressful loss of direction, as his expression was full of guilt and regret.

Faust: About what you’re asking of me as the Sage… There’re ways to keep the children safe, and I want to contribute to that however I can. But I don’t understand people’s heart. If it’s true that ‘Faust’ can lead people to be in harmony with each other, then the me that is standing in front of you isn’t that Faust.

There was a reason for Faust to be so self-depreciating. He had a history of being estranged from then executed by a human he had considered friend. The unspoken implication of what Faust said was that, had he understood what people were feeling and thinking, such a thing wouldn’t have happened.

I chided myself for making him talk about that. At the same time, a complicated feeling filled my heart. Faust was an antisocial and gruff person who kept mostly to himself, but he was always considerate and patient to the young wizards and me myself. I didn’t believe that he had no understanding of people’s hearts. Even so, being betrayed by this friend had robbed Faust of his confidence in forming connections with other people.

Akira: I think you’re well suited for the task. I have made progress with your encouragement many times before.

Faust: Nero is more perceptive than I. He should be a better fit for what you want, right?

Rustica: I don’t think so. Nero is ill-suited for this the same way Shylock is.  

Rustica explained in a soft voice to Faust, who was frowning.

Rustica: Shylock and Nero don’t want to reshape other people.

Faust: I don’t want to reshape anyone either. I live alone apart from everyone else precisely because I don’t want to change or be changed by anyone.

Rustica: Please don’t misunderstand me. It isn’t a misfortune that people change. Without the faith in changes, a sapling wouldn’t be able to grow into a great tree. Nor would a little bird be able to soar into the sky. One can’t change if one doesn’t believe in oneself.

Rustica: However, you’re someone who won’t give up on people. You have the capacity for having faith in their potential. For the people who have lost their confidence, who have lost sight of hope, who are unable to love themselves, having validation from you that they are someone wonderful may move them to believe that they are capable of something. People who are zero can become heroes. People who have given up on being the best version of themselves may find the courage to change tomorrow.

Rustica: The prayer for nothing to change and the hope for the possibility of change, both are lovely.  

Rustica’s words caressed my heart like the spring breeze. To be fine with who you were without changing anything and to be able to change into a form of your ideal, a glimpse of which you caught in an invigorating dream, both were necessary for living on.

In the Magic Manor, there were people who were capable of granting one the faith that one had the ability to change when one wanted to while staying the same as one wished, that one could change one’s world at one’s own pace. I was glad to have them.

 

Part 7.5 The aftermath of a conflict

Faust: I could transform people into heroes, you said. If I can’t handle the according responsibility then there’s no point to it.

Faust hid his face as he said mournfully. Rustica gave him a serene smile.

Rustica: Everything has a point. Even the slightest whisper makes itself heard in a melody, like a typhoon that rises from the tremors of an insect’s wings.

When an insect flapped its wings, eventually a great storm would rise. When Rustica said that, I recalled what the wizards had told me about their lives. Someone’s action from faraway past would ripple through time. It would reach someone else’s life and change it. Whether someone changed or stayed the same, everything was connected. The same applied for the current presence in this Manor of the conductor who failed to become a hero and got discarded.  

I wanted to believe there was meaning in that.

Akira: Please lend me your strength, Faust.

Faust: ……….

Faust looked at the Sage’s Guide I held out to him and fell into silence for a long while. There was only a short distance between him and me in that moment. However, I felt that a conflict that had existed for more than four hundred years occupied his psyche. He, who had lost many subordinates, was being afraid that he would lose the Eastern wizards the same way.

Many complicated expressions passed through Faust’s face. Hesitatingly, he closed his eyes and took a step forward.

Faust: Since this concerns the survival of the children, I want to do everything in my ability for their sake.

Akira: Does that mean….

Faust: Even so, don’t put too much hope in me. I’m only a man of failures. I’ll do everything I can to achieve the best outcome, but you should always doubt me.

I carefully nodded. I wasn’t at all worried about entrusting him with my request, but it’d be disrespectful to make light of his sorrows. I handed Faust a Sage’s Guide.

Akira: I’ll do as you said. Thank you, Faust.

Faust nodded and stepped back. One Sage’s Guide remained in my hands. I looked at Bradley.

Bradley: ……..

As his powerful gaze met mine, I instinctively cowered and averted my eyes, as if sensing that I was about to be scolded. As I was looking down, Bradley’s presence got closer in front of me. I nervously took a peek at his face and was so overwhelmed by his intensity that I timidly blurted out.

Akira: So you won’t take up the Sage’s Guide?

Bradley: Why would you think that?

Akira: You seem pretty displeased, so…

Curling his lips as if he was in on a joke, Bradley shrugged. However, there was no smile in his eyes. I braced myself out of instinct. His eyes were vividly red like fresh blood, and his cold gaze saw through my heart, which went all cold under that gaze.

Bradley: I’m not mad necessarily, but I’m not amused by that attitude of yours either.

 

Part 7.6 To give something its value

Akira: My attitude…

Bradley: Yep, that. You’re wearing that hangdog face, as if you were carrying a mountain all by yourself. There’s something you want us to do for you, right? Then don’t look so gloomy.

Cain: Bradley, Akira is very considerate to us. That’s why they’re worried about the gravity of the duty they are giving us.

Bradley: And that’s where they go wrong, I’d say. You think we are chicks waiting for food in our nest?

Bradley: Look at me properly.

Akira: …….ah

Suddenly Bradley held my chin with one hand. He talked to me clearly, word by word, in a calm voice without any anger or rebuke. For the first time, his gaze was that of a superior watching over his subordinates, who adored him.  

Bradley: No need to fret, Sage. We are wizards. Compared to you, we have both longer lifespan and more substantial power. You may decide on something, but it’s up to us whether to take that up. Even if we fail, we won’t blame you.

The instant Bradley told me that, I felt like something that had been squeezing me loosened, such that my tears were welling up. Just as he said, my anxiety and worries were unbearable. It was not a given that everyone would accept the idea I had been working so hard on. I had been telling myself to be prepared for being scolded or resented, so a weight was lifted off my heart when Bradley saw through my weakness.

When I was in such a state, Bradley looked at me head-on without any laughter. Even though I couldn’t describe it well with words, I knew immediately that he was having a heart to heart with me.

Bradley, the once leader of the bandits in the brutal land of Northern Country. I could see why his many subordinates held him in such high regards.

Bradley: Get it, Akira? We take responsibility of ourselves, and it’s us who determine our ways of living. Our own hearts decide to trust you. No one here ever thinks that you will never make any mistake. Instead, what we feel is, if we’re with you then failure is fine too. That’s why we show up here. Have you understood that yet?

Akira: ….uhm, yes….

Bradley: Good. In that case, stop shaking like a leaf while peeking at our faces. Don’t treat us like a petty lot who whine even if they can’t decide anything for themselves. We have our pride, so it’s maddening to be put on the same level as cowards.

Bradley: Give us something to be proud about. If you want to give us a first class treatment, then show us the big jobs. And don’t go ‘I’ll give you a reward later’ either. We want something of value. Being relied on has value. It’s something that comes from only you. Don’t hand out things to do to us while looking guilty and miserable. If you’re going to make us work, then bestow it on us like the most exquisite treasure. Make us proud to be your underlings. Everyone wants to fulfill a role that has value, you know. It’s the duty of the one in charge. You have to grant value to the ones who follow you. Get it?

Akira: …yes, I think…

Bradley: Good, you’re doing well. Don’t cry. Look up, come on.

 

Part 7.7 Where the authority to command lies

Bradley lifted my face up and messily wiped the tears that were leaking out. Through his fingertips, I could see his pleased smile.

Bradley: So you’re setting up this lot as the conductors of each country, getting their reports, then learning from that? Not a bad idea. You noticed a problem so you formulated a plan to deal with it. You’re able to go this far, so have some faith in yourself, won’t you.        

Akira: ….I will….

Bradley: Failure isn’t that big a deal, you know. It’s okay to look for help too. Whatever happens, I, the Great Bradley, will be by your side. Same for this bunch.

Figaro: Same for what?

Rustica: I wonder what he means?

Bradley: Shut up, assholes. Did you hear that, Akira? They’re all just sprouting bullshit.

Bradley jokingly made a signal with his eyes. Before I knew it, my lips parted out in a grin. He parted my cheeks as if to sooth me.       

Bradley: There, there. If you keep being afraid that you’ll get yelled at, you’ll get nothing done. It’s not a small thing to be made into the Sage for dealing with the Great Calamity, but you’ve to made up your mind sooner or later. You don’t want to die, and there’re those you don’t want to lead to death. If half of them have to be replaced again, just remembering their faces will be a hassle.

Having said that like a joke, Bradley nodded and declared seriously.

Bradley: I’ll give you a hand.

Akira: …oh, thank you so much!

Cain: May I confirm one thing? So far in our missions, Oz, in the role of teacher, was the one who led us Central wizards to work as a team. If I’m appointed to be the commander, does that mean I hold the authority to direct everyone? In other words, can I make decisions for everything even over my lord Prince Arthur and our teacher Oz?

From Cain’s position, it was apparently difficult to give directions to Oz and Arthur.

Cain: I’m especially worried about Oz. His Highness and I know the difference between a teacher… a training officer and a commanding officer. The role of a training officer is to oversee the education in a unit. The role of a commanding officer is to direct that unit. The two seem similar but are not the same.

Cain: For example, let’s make Faust the commanding officer of some unit and Figaro its training officer. In daily affairs, Faust would be under Figaro’s guidance. However, when there’s something concerning the unit, it’s necessary that Faust makes the final decision and Figaro complies.

Figaro: Uhm, well…

Faust: Uh, I suppose so.

Cain: Was that too hard to understand? Well then, for another example, let’s say Bradley is the chief and Nero his subordinate…

Bradley: Hey, hold it.

Cain: Okay.

Bradley: What are you getting at?

Cain: What do you mean?

Bradley: Why bring up Nero out of nowhere? If you want to make another example like the one before, you should use Mister Bridegroom here though?

Cain: Somehow I feel that Rustica wouldn’t be anyone’s subordinate though.

Rustica: I would be the subordinate of no one, I suppose?  

Cain: Well, let’s return to our topic. Do I have the stronger authority to make commands than even Oz? It isn’t that I want to hold that power, but problems will arise in critical moments if we don’t clarify everything beforehand.    

Rustica: In Cain’s case, His Highness Prince Arthur would be the sovereign, I think.       

Akira: What will happen in that case? What would you do in the Chivalric Order and the Palace?

Cain: If we’re talking about the duty to ensure the security of important persons, then the Order appointed for the task or the guards on duty hold the authority to make commands.

Figaro: I think Arthur doesn’t think of himself as the one to be put under protection.

Cain: That’s true…  

 

Part 7.8 A hypothetical scenario

Bradley: That prince should have the capability to take command and direct troops himself, right?

Cain: Certainly. But it’ll be trouble for us if Arthur does as he will and exposes himself to dangers. So I’d like my authority to command to be recognized for the sake of protecting him too. Will Oz and Riquet accept that though?

Bradley: Leaving the pipsqueak aside for a moment, Oz has never been placed under anyone, you know.

Faust: Speaking of, Mithra and Owen are the same, aren’t they? Will you be alright?

Bradley: Of course not. Even if you paint it as something like directing an orchestra, being a commanding officer means to be the head of an organization. In other words, the one at the top of the group. I would be the man standing above all Northern country.

Rustica: That’s apparently the case.

Bradley: It isn’t though. The moment I take up the title of the commanding officer who stands above everyone in Northern Country, Mithra, Owen, Snow, and While will gang up on me and I’ll be killed.

Rustica raised his eyebrow, while Figaro solemnly closed his eyes.

Rustica: They will do that?

Figaro: They will.

Figaro: The Central side should be careful too. Oz has been going easy on you only because you’re a child to him.

Cain: Me? A child?!

Faust: Well, that’s true though.

Bradley: You’re still under 50 after all.

Rustica: You’re only a little older than Chloe, you know.

Cain: But I can get married and drink alcohol already though?

Bradley: Oooh, look how proud of himself he is.

Rustica: ‘I can drink alcohol already’, he said.

Faust: That’s pretty cute.

Figaro: You’re at the age where you want to be treated like an adult the most, I see.

Cain: Why on earth are you acting like that?! I’m just talking about how things normally are!

Bradley: Wizards aren’t normal though. Get used to that already, little knight.

Figaro: Back to the issue at hand, if Oz knows you have the privilege of making him do as you say, he’ll never recognize you as the commanding officer.

Cain: I suppose so…

Figaro: He will certainly, definitely, one hundred percent not defer to you.

Bradley: Like hell he will. I don’t want to see what’d happen when Oz gets bossed around by a greenhorn.

Figaro: Same here.

Rustica: No need to worry about Western Country. I think everyone will like it if we play-pretend that I am the lord.

Faust: Same for Eastern Country. There’ll be no problem, I believe.

Figaro: I think no one will take issue in Southern Country either. In this case, how about we keep it a secret for Northern and Central sides?

Bradley – Cain: Secret?

Figaro: You two keep it to yourselves that you’re the commanding officers, and direct everything from the shadow with that in mind.

Bradley: So, your usual thing.

Figaro: I have a bad reputation apparently.

Bradley: If the commanding officer thing is only a secret for Northern and Central groups, won’t it be leaked by someone? Those brothers in the South in particular.

Rustica: ‘Mr. Mithra! Doctor Figaro is the commanding officer of Southern wizards. Who is assigned to be the commanding officer of Northern wizards then?’

Faust: ‘What? Commanding officer? I have never heard of such a thing.” Something like that will happen, I guess.

Rustica: Indeed.

Figaro: Thanks for the little skit. It was very illuminating.

Bradley: Just thinking about that gives me the chills. In Northern country, the question of who should be at the top is a matter of life and death. It’s a matter of honor too. Who is above, who is below, and so on. The North is very sensitive to such pecking order. Someday I’ll be able to settle that with them once and for all, but a little scuffle before fighting the Great Calamity is unavoidable.

Cain: And I’m no match for Oz when it comes to power in case he refuses to listen to me.

Faust: First of all, how about we have a codename for what we do, so as to not incur any backlash?

 

Part 7.9 The five record keepers

Akira: A codename?

Faust: It’s a word with a hidden meaning used by members of a faction when communicating with each other, so that no one will understand what they’re talking about. For example, we won’t call a spy a spy but a “basket trader” instead.

Faust: This course of action is on the negative side, but let’s be discreet about the commanding officer thing.

Rustica: In that case, how about calling ourselves ‘record keeper’? We’ve just received the Sage’s Guides for our personal use after all.

Bradley: ‘Record keeper’, huh. Well, let’s go with that. So, apart from the regular missions, when it comes to the Nova thing, I should run things covertly from the shadow?

Akira: That’s right. Please do what you see fit…

Bradley: So I should finely tune the gang I’m in charge of like a conductor waving his baton. Fine, I’ll do it.

Cain: I’ll do everything I can too, but what should I do when Oz refuses to comply?

As Cain was at a loss, Figaro wrapped an arm around his shoulders and whispered into his ears.   

Figaro: You should say it’s for Arthur’s sake. And if it’s Arthur then say it’s for Oz’ sake.

Cain: I see….?

Bradley: Hey, are you up to something shady again? You won’t have an easy death, you know.

Faust: Stop saying unlucky things. Master Sage, I want to talk to Nero. It’s likely nothing will happen, and I’d like not to keep secrets from him.

Akira: Understood.

Bradley: Heh, the Easterners are certainly a tight-knit bunch. You guys seem to be doing well in any case.

Faust: Better than the Northern Country, certainly.

Figaro: Shall we end our discussion here?

Akira: That’s fine by me…

Bradley: Wait, there’s still one thing.

Bradley raised one hand. He turned his head and looked at Rustica.

Bradley: What should we do about Murr’s labs?

Rustica: Murr’s laboratories?

Bradley: I’ve heard rumors that the Western wizard Murr has secret labs all over the world. He’s the one who has done the most research about the Great Calamity. Perhaps we’ll find some clue about the Great Calamity or the Afflictions in his labs.

Cain: That’s right, but does the Murr of the present even know where his labs are?

Bradley: Even if he doesn’t, the pipe smoker should know.

Rustica: I will ask him then.

Bradley: That’d be great.

Thus, it was decided that the commanding officers would bring together the groups of their respective countries and make their moves. Once again, I took a close look at them.

Cain, who was sincere and had a strong sense of justice, would open his heart to anyone without hesitation.

Rustica was easygoing and took everything at his own pace, but he was always kind and gentle to everyone around him without losing his own self.

Faust didn’t want to get involved with other people, but he was earnest and had the experience of being in charge. He always took good care of me and the young wizards.

Figaro, who was knowledgeable, thoughtful, and full of experience, could make both magnanimous, compassionate judgment and take cunning, ruthless courses of action for his objectives.

Bradley, the bandit chief turned prisoner, had the ability to make audacious choices, the eye for judging people, and the compassion for them.

There were certainly a lot to learn from them for me to survive and thrive as the Sage in this world. So that I wouldn’t end up sacrificing any of the friends I treasured. So that the wizards could live together, even if only for a short while.

 

Chapter 7.10 A gift from the twins to the Sage

That night.

[Akira’s room]

[Knocking sound]

Akira: Please come in.

Snow: Hello, our dear Sage.

White: Hello, our dear Sage.

Akira: Oh, Snow and White. What’s the matter?

Snow: We have finished devising something for your protection.

Akira: For my protection?

White: That’s right. You’ve encountered many dangers in the missions we undertake so far. Even so…

Snow: There will be even more risks for you when we track down the wizard named Nova.

White: Hohoho, we would like to protect you, our adorable Sage, with our own hands. Alas…

Snow: It may happen that circumstances won’t allow us to do that. So there will be a magical familiar that will protect you in our stead on such occasions.

Snow – White: Here we go.

Snow – White: Noscomnia.

As the two of them cast their spell, a faint light swelled up then burst open. From the middle of the light appeared an unusual cat-like being.

Snow: This is a Sacrificum.

White: Adorable, isn’t it? We made it to take an appearance that you would like.

Snow: We’ll be glad if it’s to your liking.

Akira: This is… a familiar?

Snow: That’s right.

White: Do you like it?  

Snow: It will stay close to you and protect you should something happen.

Unable to take my eyes off the adorable being, I smiled like with a pet cat.

Akira: It’s so cute! Thank you so much, Snow, White.

Snow: Hohoho, we’re glad to see you’re delighted so.

White: You should keep it by your side at all time.

Akira: I will. Thank you!

I received the Sacrificum and held it in my arms. It wasn’t warm like a real cat, but didn’t feel like a stuffed toy either. After leaving the little one with me, the twins left.

The little one didn’t meow or purr, nor did it move around. Even so, I feel that my loneliness was soothed when there was a life-like being with such an adorable appearance in my room.

Akira: (Does a Sacrificum need to eat? Will it sleep in my bed with me? It’s just like a cat. So cute!)

As I was eagerly thinking about giving a name to the Sacrificum, my feelings took a different turn. Earlier it was said that this little one would take my place should something happen. Maybe it would shield me and disappeared like a mirage.

That thought filled me with fear, and I averted my eye from the little one. I was afraid of getting attached to something that could disappear so easily. Even so, I was aware that I kept stealing glances of the little one, which was so like a cat.

Seventh Material - By Tsushimi Bunta

(You can find the book with this story here)

There were two kinds of mornings at the Magic Manor: the kind where something happened the night before and the kind where nothing happened.

It was often Nero who first found out of which kind a morning was.

(No one was aware about this fact since Nero was a tight-lipped wizard).

The reason why Nero became the master of discovering what happened in the previous night was that the kitchen usually bore the marks the incident left behind. That morning, he noticed two things with a simple glance as he put on his apron.

The pile of eggs in the basket and the big loaf of bread had disappeared without a trace.

(The latter must have been Brad’s doing. It seemed that guy had a hankering for bread after returning from wherever his sneezing had sent him. He couldn’t have been satisfied with just the bread. Just look!)

Nero’s lips curled up as he opened the pot, which had been full of the vegetables and chicken soup he made. Only the chicken had vanished. He would have to give that guy a dressing down later.

But what had happened to the eggs then? There were 30 of them. Shino and Cain might get hungry in the middle of the night, but even they wouldn’t eat 30 eggs. Lennox could swallow a whole egg without chewing to get more strength, but 5 eggs would be his limit. If Riquet and His Royal Highness took the eggs for some domestic adventures of theirs, they would have certainly left a note saying “Apologies for the eggs” or something like that.

At that point, Nero had a half-guess. The one behind that night-time unusual incident would be someone who couldn’t sleep at midnight.

Who could that be then? The Southern boys who had once been anxious about staying in an unfamiliar building were early to bed and early to rise. The restless Master Maledictor too had become accustomed to communal life as his friendship with the Sage’s Wizards and the Sage deepened. Nowadays, he would sleep like a baby.  

(If the dangerous guy who couldn’t sleep took the eggs, did he get it in his head to become a midnight vendor?)

Staring at the empty basket, Nero took his gleaming kitchen knife.

At that moment, there was someone behind his back.

“The best thing for when you just wake up is a drink of sugar diluted by oil and milk, isn’t it?”

“That ain’t no drink at all.”

As Owen raised his voice from Nero’s right side, Rustica began to talk from Nero’s left side.

“Did you have a good night, Nero? It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? A tea party in the garden would be delightful, don’t you think?”

“Fine by me. I’ll set up the table for you once the water is boiled.”

“What about my cream?”

“Let me bake the scones first. The cream will taste better with that.”

“Tea should be a good fit too.”

Owen nodded, already imagining the taste of tea and cream.

They walked into the garden filled with the light of the morning sun. As Rustica recited his spell, a set of outdoor furniture appeared. Owen pulled out a chair and sat down. However, the chair immediately warped and transformed into then a giant cushion, then a bed.

“Hey.”

Owen raised his eyebrow as he was about to voice his complaint. Rustica had fallen asleep on the spot. Perhaps because of whatever dreams he was having, the chair he was sitting on transformed. Once it was a wicker chair. Then it became a throne. Another time it was a rock.

Moving on to the table, Owen rattled the tea cups.

“Wake up! What kind of tea goes well with cream? The thing that will taste good with newly baked scones, you know. I’m not going to brush your hair and warm the cups. Depending on my mood, I’d slather cream all over you and feed you to my dog. Hey!”

When the saucers clashed against each other, Rustica opened his eyes as if disturbed.

“It’s nice to see them so lively, but that isn’t a sound suitable for a fine morning like this.”

“Who cares.”

“*yawns* It’s a pity that I wake up. That was a nice dream.”

“So you had a nice dream.”

For one reason or another, Owen asked, his chin on his hand.

“What was it about?”

He was planning to say something malicious to make Rustica flinch if that was a horrible dream. Owen didn’t have any particular ill will or hatred against Rustica, but the idea got into his head and he couldn’t wait to act it out.

He would make the other person scream.

He would make the other person pale with fear.

Unfortunately, Rustica’s dream wasn’t what Owen thought.

“I dream that I spread cream on a scone and eat it with tea.”

Rustica sleepily opened the tin of tea. The refreshing scent of morning tea wafted over the garden table.

Owen blurted out something that was pretty uncharacteristic of himself.

“Your dream is about to come true.”

The sweet scent of baked goods was flying out from the kitchen.

 

The one who couldn’t sleep and the ones who wouldn’t sleep 1

Let’s turn back the time. Just as Nero thought, Mithra was hugging his crescent moon pillow and roaming around the Magic Manor.

Because of the Curious Affliction he sustained from the fight with the Great Calamity, he had become unable to sleep. With the Sage from another world by his side, sometimes he could sleep, but there were also times he couldn’t.

At such times, Mithra would become grumpy, and the Sage would be at a loss. Then Mithra would complain, threaten, or shake the Sage upside down. He would try to encourage them too. However, nothing worked. He would even be moved to beg, but the Sage made the saddest face. Mithra’s mood would get even fouler as he gave up trying to chase his slumber.

Then he put the Sage to sleep with magic and turned into a warrior of the night.

“Arthim”

The destination of Mithra’s door in the air was the inside of Oz’ room. The owner of that room wasn’t sleeping either. Sitting in his chair with his fingers laced together, Oz looked up at Mithra with annoyance.

Mithra’s crystal magic focus glowed like a declaration of war to Oz.

“Good evening, Oz. Today I come to settle our quarrel.”

If Oz had been his old self who dwelled in his Northern castle, he would have raised his staff without a word. However, the Oz of the present would have to be more cautious. His curious affliction was that he couldn’t use magic only at night and would fall asleep if he tried to force it. Being in a slumber in the presence of the strongest assassin in the world that was Mithra would be more than unwise.

One time, Oz summoned Figaro – his long-time companion - with magic. Figaro didn’t have the power to vanquish Mithra, but his magic was more than enough to be a hindrance. However, Oz recalled that Figaro had told him off when he was brought over that time. Something something about Oz always picking the worst timing to drag people into a mess.

Being lectured by Figaro on top of having Mithra crash in his room in the middle of the night would be a pain. Frowning, Oz decided to handle the problem by himself. 

“Leave.”

“I’ll have to refuse.”

That attempt to handle the situation by himself of Oz was a failure.

Oz stood up with a sigh. He had his staff at the ready while he still couldn’t decide what to do. Taking it as a move to fight, Mithra got even more irritated.

“What are you thinking? Do you think you can win against me even without magic?”

“What? It’s you who said you wanted to settle our quarrel. Don’t come here in the middle of the night then.”

If Oz had been Owen, he would have fired back with something like that. However, being clumsy with words, he only glowered sullenly. If this had been daytime, he would have been able to burn the other side to a crisp with thunder magic. That wasn’t an option in the present, so he would have to come up with another solution.

At that moment, Oz had a closer look at the corners of Mithra’s eyes. The Mithra in Oz’ memory was more youthful, lively, and healthy. Mithra had always given off an aura of menacing fickleness, but in the present, his pallor only made him seem strangely gloomy.

Oz knew what it was like to have sleepless nights too. He also had an idea about what might help for such nights.   

“Shylock’s bar is opening.”

“What?”

“The one downstair.”

“What does Shylock’s bar have to do with you and I settling our quarrel?”

“A nightcap would work.”

“For you?”

“For you.”

Oz stopped himself as he was about to cast his spell to summon what he wanted from the shelf. He took a handful of coins from the glass tray and gave them to Mithra.

“Here. Take this.”

“What?”

“Shylock charges money. He told me that a mana stone was too much.”

“I have never paid anyone though.”

“Neither do I. However, I’m aware that Arthur pays.”

“Why don’t you just let him pay for you then?”

Oz stayed silent. He grabbed Mithra’s hand. Startled, Mithra avoided him out of reflex, but Oz nonchalantly pressed the coins on him.

“Give Shylock these and tell him you want a nightcap.”

“What about our quarrel?”

“Later.”

“Fine then.”

Mithra obediently left Oz’ room. He had seldom used coins before, so he stared at them in wonder as he walked down the stairs.  

 

Let’s play a game from the Sage’s world 1

As Nero was glaring at the basket emptied of eggs, Cain was having a morning run in the yard. The cool breeze was good for his mood, and the sunlight was pleasant.

“Hey.”

“Good morning.”

Cain raised his head at the voices from not far away. Still running, he held out his right hand and touched Shino’s hand then Lennox’.

The two people whose hands Cain touched appeared in front of him, where there had been no one. That was something he saw regularly so Cain wasn’t surprised at all. Without missing a step, he smiled widely at them, who were moving around quickly.

“Morning! Shino, looks like you’re winning today?”

Shino’s eyebrows knitted sullenly at Cain’s casual question. He pointed at Lennox with his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’ll win if there is a prey.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably lose my head in that case.”

Lennox didn’t protest the assertion but nodded in apparent admiration. He might have an advantage in martial art skills and body size, but Shino knew how to fight to take down his opponent when he had his magic focus in hand. And then there was Cain, who was not as powerful as Shino when it came to magic but possessed the talent of a commander, something in short supply at the Magic Manor. He could estimate the outcome of a battle, raise the spirit of his soldiers, and direct them. Under his command, probably even humans could go beyond their limits.

At the moment, such personalities were taking a break and looking up in the blue sky.

“Looks like it’ll be sunny today.”

“It’d be nice if there’s rain though. Heath loves rains. Still he said that the rain at the Magic Manor was a bit different from the rain at the Blanchett Castle.”

“Maybe that’s because there’s less forest around here. It must be tough in the Southern Country when there’s rain?”

“Yeah, the soil is thin there. Such dust-filled wild lands will become muddy and floods will rise.”

“Floods are scary. They happen a lot in my hometown, so there’s a song about moving the furniture to the rooftop when the water gets too high.”

“Heh, sing it then.”

“Come, come, quickly ~. Ah, such trouble ~”

“That song is way too chirpy. It doesn’t sound like there’s trouble at all.”

“People are always singing and dancing in Cain’s hometown after all.” 

“Ahaha! I guess so.”

As Cain laughed and puffed up his chest with pride, Shino pointed to the clear sky.

“It’s Arthur.”

All three of them looked up at the same time.

However, the shining sky was completely empty to Cain. Because of his Curious Affliction from the Great Calamity, he couldn’t see other people unless he touched them.

“Looks like he’s returning early from the castle. Wave at him, Cain.”

Cain waved his hand as Shino directed. When he was imagining the sight of his Sovereign flying on his broom in the blue sky, Shino and Lennox let out a cry at the same time.

“Ah….”

“What’s the matter?”

“Something fell down. It was like someone was half-asleep. That was dangerous.”

A chill ran down Lennox’s spine as he pushed his glasses up. As Cain was at a loss about whether he should mount his broom and fly up even if he couldn’t see anyone, something touched his heel.

It was an egg.

However, that was a colorful egg with arms and legs. It seemed to be hiding behind Cain’s shoe.

“What’s this?”

Cain bent down and picked up the egg. It shook its limbs wildly in an attempt to escape Cain’s hand.

Shino and Lennox gathered around him.

“What’s that?”

“How’s Arthur?”

“No need to worry. He’s safe in his room.”

“Is that an egg? Let’s crack it open and have a look.”

Cain was relieved by the assurance that Arthur was safe. Following the others’ suggestion, he placed his thumb on the round egg. As he was about exert some force, he paused.

“Will this one spread out its limbs when I break it? In a ‘I’m dead’ kind of pose?”

Lennox pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“Perhaps. Still, is that what a professional soldier would say?”  

“If you don’t want to break it then let’s boil it. I want to know what it tastes like.”

His curiosity stirred up, Shino poked at the egg. Cain looked at the egg one more time and slowly shook his head.

“I can’t do that. I got attached while holding it like this.”

“What? You Central wizards think everyone is your friend way too easily.”

“That’s probably not a Central wizard thing. That’s how we people of City of Glory are. It doesn’t take long for us to treat someone as our own.”

“Whatever. Just don’t expect feelings of friendship from me.”  

“Come on, have a look. Isn’t it cute waving around its arms and legs like this?”

“Let’s try pulling its legs then”

“That’s a no too!”

“We should try pulling its limbs and peel off the shell. Maybe there’s some cool creature inside.”

Shino, who grew up in a forest, loved watching eggs hatch to see baby animals come out. It delighted him when that was a creature he had never seen before.  However, Lennox spoke up before Shino broke the egg’s shell with his finger.

“I think that isn’t a living being. It’s someone’s magical prank item. I’ve seen something like it before.”

“A magical item for playing pranks?”

“Yeah, such artifacts are popular in Western Country. Apparently poor wizards with weak magical power make and sell them to the nobles.”

“An artifact? So Nick isn’t a living being?”

“Nick?”

“This one’s name.”

“You already gave it a name?”

Shino made an exasperated face at Cain, who was caressing the egg.

“Lennox, you said this is a magical prank item?”

“Yeah, a magical artifact to make people laugh. Like a bag that gives off laughing sound when you press it, or a barrel with a pirate inside which would jump out when you stick a knife in it.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of weapon disguised as a toy for pranks? Come to think about it, isn’t it making a strange sound?”

Cain frowned as Shino pointed that out. He quickly tossed the egg in the air and drew his sword.

Without any mercy, he cut it into two with a single stroke.

“Nick….”

It was Lennox who reflexively murmured.

The broken egg burst open with a bang. From it appeared dazzling complex patterns of red flowers and gold lines.

The egg lingered in the air as it drew out those beautiful images.

“So that’s a prank item?”

Shino turned to Cain and Lennox. He shrugged.

“Can you laugh at that?”

“Not me. People with the temperament of Western Country residents may find it funny.”

“I would laugh if that were picture of a monkey making funny faces or something like that!”

Shino found it a bit of a pity that they didn’t wait to break the egg in the presence of the Western wizards. Chloe would likely burst out laughing hard.

There was a rustling sound. Lennox looked down at his feet. Many eggs with arms and legs like the one they saw before were loitering around.

If one listened carefully, one could hear the little voices of the eggs.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

The eventful Grand Cleaning Day at the Magic Manor

Chloe was on a mission. In this particular group, he was the most grown up one. Besides that, when it came to cleaning and tidying, he was likely the one most familiar with the task.

In Chloe’s company was Arthur, who was the Prince of Central Country, Riquet, who was raised in a Church of Central Country, Heathcliff, who was from a noble family of Eastern Country, and Mitile, who was a youth from Southern Country.

Mitile stepped forward and apologized to Chloe.

“I’m sorry. My brother is having a hangover.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine! Last night was pretty rough after all!”

Chloe wrapped his arm around Mitile’s shoulders and looked at the training ground in the forest near the Magic Manor. On the green branches and the great trunks, many colorful patterns were blooming.

Arthur said cheerfully with a smile. “So that’s what the eggs spread, huh?”

“Yeah. It looks like a picture from afar, but is actually egg whites and yolks, so everything got sticky. We’d better clean it up.”

Riquet obediently nodded as Chloe gravely gave his explanation.

“Master Sage’s world certainly has so many unusual customs though. Like playing hide and seek with eggs that create fancy decorative images.”

“Agreed. Instead of playing hide-and-seek with eggs, it’s better to make them into yummy food and eat them.”

Heathcliff smiled wryly at Mitile, who was continuing Riquet’s talk.

“It’s rare to see Nero so angry. Apparently that was his egg reserve. When Master Sage heard about the incident, they quickly gave the correction for the misunderstanding though.”

“I love Nero’s egg dishes too. And you like eggs en cocotte and egg benedict right, Heathcliff?”

“You’re very knowledgeable, Your Highness.”

Arthur smiled proudly at a surprised Heathcliff.

“I heard that from Shino. He knows you well enough to write a biography about you, I think.”

Heathcliff blushed and made his apology to Arthur. As the scion of a great noble family of Eastern Country, Healthcliff viewed Arthur as the VIP of all VIPs, and it would be unacceptable to be overly casual with him.

However, Arthur didn’t mind such things. Arthur possessed an instinctive elegance, but it was Heathcliff who gave off the aura of a true noble.

For example, Healthcliff didn’t have the habit of picking up things that fell on the ground, but Arthur would pick them up right away. It wasn’t that Heathcliff was arrogant and full of himself. At the Blanchett household, the servants considered it shameful if they let their masters stoop down for something. Being raised a noble, Heathcliff had to protect the servants of his family and thus bending his body was a no-go. When he dropped something, the servants who always watched over him would quietly kneel down and pick it up. Shino, who was his childhood friend, was forbidden to act a servant around him, so more often than not, what Heathcliff dropped on the floor would stay where they were.

Perhaps there were similar rules in the royal family of the Central Country. However, Arthur had spent his childhood in the majestic and forbidding nature. It was normal for him to touch the ground, get drenched in the rain, have grass smeared all over himself, or play in the snow with his nose all red. In that aspect, he was similar to Mitile, who lived in Southern Country.

Child of a teacher and a witch Mitile grew up in a world without princes or nobles. As such, he was curious about Chloe, who was from Western Country. Chloe’s sophisticated metropolitan background was reflected in his outfits, in his effortless sense of fashion, or the way he talked just a bit too fast.

Mitile’s tranquil home was endless land of dusty, rocky red soil, with the smells of livestock, of dried grass, of cheap alcohol. 

While Mitile’s brother would talk leisurely with the occasional “Oh, that reminds me…”, the way Chloe talked was vivacious, expressive, and punctuated with jokes.

The truth was, Chloe talked fast because he loved chatting with people.

As if to compete with the chirping birds, he energetically continued the topic.

“What a strange custom to hide eggs like that though! Do eggs in Master Sage’s world move by themselves? Yeah, it was Murr who gave the eggs arms and legs. The way they ran around is very like Murr too! If it had been Shylock who enchanted the eggs instead, would they have glided around elegantly? What do you think?”

“You talk a lot, Chloe.”

Chloe flinched at what Riquet said. It was probably not meant as a rebuke, but sometimes Riquet could be overly austere and critical to people. Some people were full of self-confidence without any basis, but Chloe had no reason to be confident about himself. His heart thumped nervously as he wondered if it was his turn to be the target of Riquet’s criticisms.

“S- sorry, I was…”

“No, I just wondered if you got tired.”

Riquet was actually worried, but Mitile, who was standing next to him, squirmed because what Riquet had said could be taken as an insult in some situation.

“The birds can sing as they fly too.”

Arthur leaped over the root of a big tree and laughed.

“Chloe is accustomed to a life of travelling, so he should be pretty robust.”

Riquet’s eyes lit up in admiration at Arthur’s words.

“That is amazing. So he is like a migrating bird.”

Chloe blinked in confusion. To him, being compared to a migrating bird was a delightful compliment.

A golden ray of light peeked through the green leaves. In that moment, they could see the shadow of a bird flying into the blue sky.

Joy bubbled in Chloe’s heart as he spread out his arms.

“Ehehe, I’m so happy! So I’m a migrating bird! That’s wonderful!”

To help the elated Chloe from stumbling down, Heathcliff grabbed his arms like a partner in a dance. While accompanying Chloe, Heathcliff recalled something and said.

“I just remember. When I met Lord Oz before our fight with the Great Calamity, he gave me this thing.”

“From Master Oz?”

“What was it, what was it? Was it a magical tool?”

“Was it something scary?”

“Was it something tasty?”

Heathcliff glanced through everyone then looked at Arthur and smiled.

“It was an acorn. He said, that was something children my age would like.”

Arthur’s eyes went round. A moment later, he laughed embarrassedly.

“I used to love acorns a lot.”

“I thought so.”

Heathcliff’s lips broke into a smile too. Then he took the a deep breath and raised his arm towards the leaves above, his posture as perfect as ever. The acorn he picked glittered between his fingers as it reflected the bright sunlight.

Riquet, who had no knowledge of the ordinary world, looked at the very ordinary acorn and smiled.

“The outside world is certainly wonderful. There are things that I find scary too, but so many other things are really interesting.”

Mitile, Arthur, Heathcliff, Chloe, all of them had an indescribable feeling. Even though they weren’t the creators of this world, they had the urge to tell Riquet “Oh, the pleasure is ours.” It was a gentle feeling, as they were on the verge of saying courteous words of greetings. “Welcome. Hope you’ll enjoy it here.”

Riquet carefully cupped the acorn Heathcliff gave him in his palm. Then, they saw something shiny on a thick tree branch above.

It was a lone crystal-clear tumbler, as if the branch had been the counter of Shylock’s bar after the guest had left.

 

The one who couldn’t sleep and the ones who wouldn’t sleep 2

Figaro sat by the window of his room and drank his favorite alcohol.

He knew he would get some lively company if he went to the bar, but some alone time was necessary for him.

A strange light flickered just a bit out of Figaro’s field of vision. He turned to that direction. Outside his window, flakes of fire came pouring down. Wondering what was going on, he leaned on the window and looked out. Carrying a faint trace of Faust aura, the flakes of fire extinguished.

Figaro recalled the Curious Affliction Faust got from the Great Calamity, which caused his dreams to leak out to the outside world. Faust’s window was quite far from Figaro’s. Whether because of the night wind or some other reason, the flakes of fire from Faust’s dream were carried all the way here.

However, when Figaro looked at them closely, those weren’t really flakes of fire. They were golden flower petals that were delicate and fleeting like the snow. Under the petals, an illusory kitten was walking unsteadily. A hind leg of the kitten was limp from injury.

Figaro let out a sigh and flew into the air from his window. Several plans were formed in his head within seconds as he did that.

For example, he could do the following.

“What’s up, Faust. You have been exhausted recently, haven’t you? Did your medium get scratched? There’s something I want to tell you. Your barrier was broken and your dream has been leaking out.”

He could also try.

“Sorry to bother you, Leno. Something doesn’t seem right. Do you mind going to Faust’s room to have a look? Yeah I’m in the middle of something so I can’t check. Sorry.”

Or he could do this.

“Oh don’t mind me. Please do continue. This scene is just as I imagined it. You’ve told me about it so many times so I’d like to have a look. Oh, by the way, how did you two meet?”

Figaro gave it a little thought and shook his head. He ended up not choosing any of those plans. All of them required a degree of physical or mental strength.

Acting like he hadn’t seen anything, Figaro reinforced the barrier of the room then flew towards the dark forest nearby. He settled on a thick tree branch and listened to the night birds, the insects, and the night wind.

He could entrust himself to this solitude and tranquility at least.

A rude voice broke the silence.

“Ah- What are you doing all the way here?”

It was Bradley, whose voice was full of undisguised suspicion and hostility. Figaro raised his glass by way of saying hello.

“Good evening, Bradley. Where are you going tonight?”

“Drop the nonsense. You’re drinking alone here?”

Bradley asked as he sat down on the same branch. There was a faint surprise on Figaro’s face, who thought Bradley would just leave right away.

Bradley glanced sideways at Figaro with frank disappointment.

“You drink even when you don’t have any food with you?”

“Recently I find that eating while drinking is too heavy for my stomach.”

Bradley stared at Figaro as if searching for something. Figaro pretended not to notice and looked up in the sky.

Smiling as if he was trying that expression out, Figaro tipped the tumbler to Bradley.

“I’m feeling generous. It must be cold when you go out tonight.”

“Why would I, the Great Bradley, take anything with that attitude from you? Your hand is giving out the glass, but your lips are spewing sarcasm. What are you plotting?”

A sharp glint in his eyes, Bradley pushed aside the tumbler with the back of his hand. Figaro smiled as if to agree with him.

A night bird let out a cry as it began its hunt. Somehow, the sound seemed full of sorrow and loneliness. Hoot, hoot, hoot, the bird cried three times. After that, Figaro left Bradley behind on the branch.

“Think of it as something someone forgot then. I’ll go first. Do whatever you like with the tumbler.”

“I’ll use it to cast a curse on you, such that you’ll die the most horrible death.”

“You won’t do that. Such a ritual is too troublesome.”

Figaro shrugged and flew into the sky. Bradley humphed as he grabbed the tumbler and took a sniff. He looked up in surprise.

“This is some good booze.”

“Indeed. It’ll be a waste if you throw that away.”

“You should have said that earlier. Why don’t you bring the whole bottle here?”

“It’s in my room. Surely you don’t expect me to go all the way there and back?”  

“You’re such a pain.”

“Well then, enjoy my generosity.”

“Figaro”

Bradley emptied the alcohol as he called out the name. Figaro watched him the entire time.

Bradley was a proud man. He wouldn’t accept anything given to him out of condescension. Drinking the alcohol didn’t mean he conceded to Figaro’s sarcastic attitude. The fact was, he had seen through Figaro’s lies.

Throwing the alcohol away would probably be too petty.

“You aren’t yourself tonight,” Bradley declared. There was too much scorn in his voice for it to be merely wry, but there was also too much rebuke for it to be complete derision.

Figaro elegantly landed on the ground and looked up at Bradley in silence. He vaguely waved his hand and walked away.

“Indeed.”

Instead of flying in the sky, Figaro stepped on the dry branches and returned to the Magic Manor.

On the thick branch, Bradley enjoyed the sound of the nighttime forest together with the fine alcohol. As he let the drunken pleasantness together with the sounds of the night birds, the insects, and the night wind, he recalled what happened in the past.

Bitter memories, sweet memories, they all came back with the pleasure of the fine alcohol. Perhaps that was what had happened with Figaro.

Inside the charm of the first grade liquor was the intoxication of old memories. This was not just about having his eager tongue touch the booze in ecstasy. As he did that, memories of past glories and memories of farewells would come, one after another.

Apparently it was the kind of night where one didn’t grudge other people anything, as one sought a special kind of drunkenness and shared a drink with someone.

Bradley let out a yawn. Remembering his empty stomach, he threw himself into the night wind.

Leaving behind the tumbler, he headed towards the kitchen.     

 

Let’s play a game from Master Sage’s world 2

The usually quiet bar of Shylock was lively that night. Murr, who was sitting by the counter, cast his magic again and again, and Rutile, who was sitting next to him, laughed so hard he was about to slip from his chair.

Sitting at a distance from them was Faust. Under his feet, the eggs that had grown arms and legs scurried around.

“Hey, what on earth are these?”

Faust looked at Shylock in confusion. Usually, Shylock would help him out without a wrinkle in his serene manners. However, tonight Shylock was laughing to the point that tears were coming out of his eyes.

“Eggs that have arms and legs on them though!”

It seemed that Southern wizards and Western wizards got along like a house on fire. Since he preferred to enjoy his evening alcohol in quiet, Wizard of Eastern Country Faust inwardly decided that he would return to his room right after finishing the current drink.

Rutile’s hair fluttered about like sunflowers in the wind.

“What Master Sage said is so strange. Why would someone play hide-and-seek with eggs? They said those were Easter Eggs, but still.”

“Master Sage’s world is so crazy! They hide eggs, fly octopuses in the sky, and throw beans!”

“Ahaha! Even so a festival with colorful eggs must be delightful!”

“Isn’t it! Imagine it, Rutile! When you say, “Okay?”, the hidden eggs all over the house will reply at the same time…”

“Okay!”

Murr and Rutile said at the same time then laughed uproariously. Shylock’s body bent into two as he held on to the table while crying from his laughter, then he wiped off his tears with a napkin. “Is it that funny?” Faust thought as he too was affected by the other three’s excitement and imagined the scene. However, he didn’t really get the joke as the ambiance around him got surreal.

Noticing Faust’s situation, Rutile wiped the tears in his eyes and struck a conversation.

“I’m sorry. We got too rowdy. Ahh, my stomach hurt.”

“No, I don’t mind. You shouldn’t drink too much though. How many bottles have you finished already?”

“Thanks for worrying about me. I should follow your example. Aah, I’m so tired.”

“So you usually laugh to the point of exhaustion.”

Seeing the current state of the straightforward Rutile, Faust gave a friendly smile. Rutile fixed his messed up hair and said shyly.

“It’s embarrassing in such a stylish bar. This is how we always are in Southern Country. When things get lively, we’d bring out our musical instruments, break out in a dance, or take the livestock to the yard.”

Murr and Shylock met each other’s eyes and laughed.

“We dance a lot when we’re drunk in Western Country too.”

“Do you hold hands and dance in pair?”  

“Yeah.”

Shylock nodded at Rutile’s question.

“In the past too?”

Shylock looked at Murr when Faust asked this question. Murr giggled and put his elbows on the counter.

“Shylock is the flower that can only be found on the highest mountain! It’s difficult to invite him from the other side of the counter.”

“He’s the owner of a famous bar in Western Country after all!”

“Is it your policy that you never dance with your customers?”

“That’s not the case. I do mingle with everyone from time to time when the mood of the night is good. Of course that includes inviting someone to a dance.”   

“Really? Who?”

It wasn’t Faust who asked that question but Murr. Shylock’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he took a puff from his pipe.

“It’s a secret.”

“Ahaha, are you jealous, Mr. Murr?!”  

Before the atmosphere became delicate, Rutile, who didn’t notice anything, burst out laughing brightly. Then he emptied his glass with great relish.

“Have Lennox and Figaro done that too?”

“Eh?”

“I’m talking about parties in the Southern Country. Have those two brought out musical instruments and livestock when they drink?”

“I see, I see! Mr. Leno rarely gets drunk. I don’t have as much alcohol tolerance as him. Doctor Figaro has good tolerance too, but he said he has become weaker recently. Mitile was worried when he heard that and immediately took all alcohol away.”

“What do people in Eastern Country do when they have a drink?”

Murr asked from the other side of Rutile. Nearly draping himself over the counter, he looked at Faust’s face.

Faust thought a little then shook his head.

“No idea. I haven’t had any occasion to drink with the wizards of Eastern Country. And in the past I rarely drank in a fashionable bar like this.”

“Oh, is that so? How did you party then?”

Rutile was genuinely surprised. He found Faust’s mature aura a perfect fit for Shylock’s bar.

Faust knitted his eyebrows as he searched for the right words.

“It’s probably not as a youngster like you think. We would pass around alcohol in a wooden bowl or a goblet made of steel.”

“Oh. Were there not enough glasses?”

“That’s not the case. Sometimes there were indeed not enough glasses, but before an important battle when we had to risk our lives, that was the way to raise our spirits. Making ourselves feel brave and subduing the fear, things like that.”

“Oh! I did that when I was small. A buffalo was possessed by something strange and attacked us, but there was no wizard around. The adults in the town brought their weapons and gathered, then shouted ‘Let’s go! Let’s go!’”

“Yeah, it’s that kind of mood.”

“Mr. Faust, did you shout ‘Let’s go! Let’s go!’ too?”

“Heh I’m the one who can shout the loudest among those in this bar.”

“Ama-zing!”

Faust raised his eyebrow proudly. Before he knew it, he too had become drunk.

Murr clapped his hands as if remembering something.

“That one! I once mingled with a group like that!”

“Mingled?”

“During wartime, I blended in a group of people sitting in a circle and partying.”

“How come? You have taken part in a war too, Mr. Murr?”

“I wouldn’t say never, but that time I just wanted to try and see what a party like that would be like! I sneaked in the group pretending to be one of their comrades and drank with them! I was really curious!”

His eyes shining brightly, Murr laughed. A vein popped on Faust’s forehead.

“Don’t fuck with me. That’s not a game!”

“That isn’t a game for me either!”

As Murr and Faust stared at each other, Shylock smiled amusedly.

“The revolutionary and the philosopher are very interested to know about each other, but it seems that their temperaments clash.”

With a smile on his lips, Rutile winked with complete sincerity.

“This teacher and Mister Bar Owner are getting along well enough at least.”

“Oh my, is that so?”

“Hehe, I want to try it once. To invite the person on the other side of the counter whom everyone admires to a dance.”

His words slurring a little, Rutile held out his hand to Shylock.

“Would you be my partner for this dance?”

Shylock’s eyes crinkled as he laughed brightly.

“What a straightforwardly dazzling invitation!”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he gracefully took Rutile’s hand.

“I like you. Let’s dance then.”

‘Yay!”

Rutile bounced delightedly.

Resting their chins on their hands, Murr and Faust shrugged at the same time.

“Shylock always has a soft spot for the young ones.”

“So the cup of victory is always snatched by the one who can be both honest and good at getting attention.”

“Please don’t complain! Play some music, you two!”

A bit out of breath, Rutile clapped the backs of Murr and Faust. Laughing as they gave in, Murr summoned with magic an accordion and Faust a lute.

With a bright smile on his face, Rutile bowed courteously and waited for the person behind the counter to join him.

Then, as the lively music filled the room, the door opened. The red-haired young man with coins clutched in his hands came in. Slipping between his feet, the eggs escaped.

 

If we could always be together

Snow and White, who were taking a walk outside the Magic Manor, sent off the eggs as they headed to the forest.

It was a bizarre incident, but those two were used to bizarre things.

As they wondered if only the two of them never changed even as what had been thought to be unusual became normal and what had been normal became unusual, as the eras turned and power passed from one hand to another, they failed to see even that.

The Milky Way above them glittered.

The Great Calamity shined with an overwhelming light, as if it were sucking up life.

Something that would be greeted with “Thank you so much for such a treasure” when you gave it to someone the day before would become a thing that got shunned with “What is that?! Take it away!” the next day. Those whose face became green with fear when they saw magic in the past would smile delightedly when they encountered it in the present. Amidst all that, only the twins never changed. Somehow, that wasn’t a happy ending.

“I think of you with all my heart.”

It used to be a spell that brought a smile to the other side’s face, but now it only brought a scornful snicker.

“For you, with all my heart.”

It used to be a spell that brought a smile to the other side’s face, but a day had come when it would be replied with an forced curl of the lips out of politeness.

“With all my heart.”

Even so, their lips parted in a smile in the end. Perhaps, after all the changes had run their courses, the reality was nothing had changed.

Like the stars that were born then perished.

Like the endless turn of day and night.

Like how they couldn’t exist without holding each other’s hands.

 

The teachers go shopping for flowers

“I’m sorry. I didn’t explain about the Easter Eggs properly.”

The Sage hanged their head as they made their apology. Snow and White linked their arms with the Sage’s from two sides in synchroneity.

“No problem. No problem. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Everyone had fun. Is that right, Shylock?”

Shylock smiled as the twins turned to look at him.

“Indeed. I haven’t had such a good laugh since forever. Even Faust got drunk and ended up laughing at a falling spoon so hard he rolled on the floor.”

“I haven’t been that drunk in a while…”

Faust muttered in a subdued tone as he reflected on his life choices.

After they had cleaned up after the runaway eggs, the Magic Manor was sparkly from the yard to the tower. Even the nearby forest was immaculate.

Looking at the spotless and glittering Magic Manor, Figaro suggested.

“Since we’re already at it, why don’t we decorate the Manor with flowers too?”

“Flowers?”

“It’s a good idea to make the place we live in nice and pretty from time to time, don’t you think?”

The Sage smiled at Figaro’s words.

“Yeah! I think the Manor will definitely love that too!”

They spoke about the Manor’s feelings as if it had a soul.

Since this was a world of miracles, perhaps the Manor too had a heart.

Oz, who had been silent, raised his voice as he looked at the Sage.

“What kind of flowers do you like?”

It seemed Oz was asking about the Sage’s personal favorite flowers. He nodded as the Sage looked at him questioningly.

“We’ll decorate the Manor with your favorite flower.”

“Well done! Please keep that up!”

Figaro applauded when Oz finished speaking. Shylock and Faust too smiled and pressed the Sage.

“Don’t be shy, Master Sage”

“If you don’t know the flower’s name then you can describe its color and such.”

The Sage thought a little. Then their face lit up with an idea. Clasping their hands behind their back, they looked at the teachers with a smile and straightened their back.

“I’ll be happy if you choose the flowers. For the wizards who lived at the Manor, for the Sage, and for the Manor too.”

Snow and White bowed gravely as if they had just been entrusted with a mission with utmost importance.

“As you wish.”

Thus, they went to buy flowers. Beautiful flowers to decorate the Magic Manor and as a gift to the Sage.

That bouquet of flowers would definitely be more colorful than even those eggs that had grown arms and legs.        

Western Country - By Tsushimi Bunta

(You can buy the magazine issue that has this story here)

“Let’s have a tea party.”

Thus said Wizard of Western Country Rustica.

The evening sun was pleasant, and the birds were singing beautifully. To Rustica, it was only natural that he would want to have a leisurely time with tea in his favorite cup.

“Eh? Now?”

The person who cried out in surprise with a high voice was Rustica’s adorable disciple Chloe. To him, it was his reaction of disbelief that was natural. They were up in the sky flying on their brooms after all.

Rustica casually cast his spell and summoned a round table to appear in the blue sky. He began to arrange the tea service set for the tea party.

“Oh dear, the chair still hasn’t shown up.”

“By ‘the chair’ you mean the one you usually use? Isn’t it broken already? It lost a leg in that match with Murr.”

“Indeed. Murr won against my chair. It was an interesting contest.”

Rustica smiled softly as he recalled the scene of his chair racing against Murr in the hallway. It was indeed an eccentrically charming event.

“Now I’m in a bind though. It’s impolite to drink tea without sitting down on a chair. I’d like to make our tea party as comfortably as possible.”

“Mid-air is probably not the place to ask for comfort, you know….  Anyway, I’m fine with standing.”

“Shall we wait a little? Perhaps a wonderful chair will pass by our way.”

“Rustica, chairs don’t normally travel around.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. It’d be strange for a chair or a bathtub to fly across the sky after all.”

“You mean like those?”

“Eh?”

Chloe’s eyes widened. He turned his head as Rustica said that. In the middle of the sky, a bathtub appeared.

There was no warm water in the bathtubs but the Western Wizards Murr and Shylock. For some reason, Murr was holding up a huge parasol and Shylock was in a bathrobe.

“What are you guys doing there?”

It was only natural that Chloe asked that question.

Murr answered with a cat-like smile. “Many things.”

“Apparently.”

Chloe could only manage an ‘I see’ in response. At that moment, Rustica smiled brightly as if he had just discovered something wonderful.

“I see we have a beautiful meeting of chance here. Neither side of us are riding a broom. We are definitely getting along splendidly.”

“Indeed. It is nice to do something like this occasionally.”

Even as a part of a surreal scene, Shylock remained elegant and refined. Letting down his long hair, he stretched out his long legs and made himself comfortable in the bathtub.

Casting an alluringly playful glance at Chloe and Rustica’s direction, Shylock asked. “Are you two having a tea party?”

“Yeah. But we still lack a chair so we can’t start yet.”

“Is that so? We have the plugs of our bathtubs here at least.”

“We have a parasol too! And hairbrush!”

“In that case, shall we wait a bit more? Since bathtubs together with bathtub plugs and parasol and hairbrush have already come by, I feel that a chair too will come our way.”

“I thought that was impossible but now I’m starting to believe it too.”

“It’s good to be patient. The sun is so pleasant today after all.”

“The birds’ songs are beautiful too!”

The round table and the bathtubs went round and round mid-air like a merry-go-round. The Western Wizards had a huge appetite for fun. Even better when the fun was unconventional and rarely seen.

No one could get in the way their peculiarity, eccentricity and appetite for fun. The beauty of their sincere game wasn’t a part of the natural world like the sunlight or the songs of the birds, but common sense would have to surrender to it regardless.

Before long, Chloe too smiled and sat on a bathtub.

“Shylock, that’s such a lovely hairdo. Do you want to have a different mood from usual today?”

“There’s nothing special about it. You can do anything you like.”

“Yay! What should I do now, hmm.”

“Oh, Murr’s hairbrush is amazing. It’s like petals of blooming blossoms in the blue sky.”

“Right?! It can spin and spin around too!”

The hairbrush that was spinning and spinning around splashed the sunlight in all directions. The wizards were having fun even if the tea party hadn’t started.

Until they got bored, they could certainly wait and wait for a chair to pass by like that.  

Central Country - By Tsushimi Bunta

(You can find the magazine issue that has this story here)


He remembers the light of the lonesome moon.

When Arthur was a little boy, to him, magic was the snow that froze when it touched the ground. The gazes of people around him turned to ice when his little hands caused miraculous things to happen. Before he even knew what it was like to be feared, distrusted, avoided under a façade of respect, what it was like for your heart to be hurt, he was thrown out on the endless field of snow.

One whole night on that snow field which stretched on and on.

He remembers the icy wind and the glittering frozen stars.

He remembers  looking up at the mesmerizingly beautiful moon while his temperature dropped and his body got ever closer to death.

That lonesome moon was like himself.

“What is the moonbeam like?”

Arthur looked up at Riquet’s question.

Arthur, who didn’t die on that snow field, has grown up and become a handsome seventeen-year-old youth. That goes together with his impressive title of Prince of Central Country.

Like Arthur, Riquet is a Sage’s Wizard. He is a bright and honest youth, but since he was raised in an unusual environment, there are many things he doesn’t know about the wider world. At the moment, he is learning to read and write.

Arthur looks at the book Riquet has been reading.

“Are you reading a story?”

“Yes. In the book I read before this one, it’s written that the moonbeam lights up the scenery. Yet in this book, it’s said that the moonbeam brings with it a long shadow.”

Confusion all over his adorable face, Riquet tilts his delicate head.

“Does the moonbeam bring light or bring shadow?”

Before Arthur can reply, Cain butts in.

“I think it brings shadow.”

Cain’s voice is bright. Eyes of different colors, red and gold, shine on his gallant face. As usual, the former Captain of the Knights Cain carries himself with a lively confidence.

He sits down next to Riquet and crosses his long legs with casual grace.

“Moonbeam should bring shadow, because when light shines on something, there’d be a shadow spread out under its feet. You already know that, right?”

“I do.”

Riquet pouts. He is probably miffed that his studying time with Arthur is interrupted. Riquet is smart, yet when he is near the brotherly Cain, he acts like a child who wants attention.

Arthur smiles at the back and forth between those two.

“It can bring both. Because moonbeam brings light, it can create shadow too.”

“Can one word have two implications like that?”

“Heh, that’s pretty neat.”

Cain laughs, seemingly happy with that idea.

“Things that seem to mutually contradict each other exist within the same word. It’s wondrous, miraculous, mysterious. Just like a wizard’s spell.

A word in which both light and shadow coexist. Arthur raises his hand towards the night sky and stares at it.

In his palm, which is basked in the light of the moon, there is a faint bluish shadow. Moonbeam brings both light and shadow at once.

“What are you doing?”

Hearing that low voice, Arthur turns his head. Oz is there with a darkened face.

Arthur explains with a smile.

“We are talking about moonbeam. Do you know about that, Master Oz? Moonbeam is…"

“Don’t reach out to the moon.”

Oz gently grabs Arthur’s wrist and lowers it. Other people may think Oz wants to scold Arthur with that, but the unspoken feelings resonates with Arthur and he knows Oz is concerned for him.

That night in his childhood, he waited for death on that endless snow field while looking at the moon.

The arms that held Arthur and lifted him up were Oz’.

Everyone who is here knows loneliness, just like the Great Calamity. They remember the lonely night when they were cast out by the world.

However, they are with their people now.

To ease the anxiety of Oz and his friends, Arthur smiles.

“I’m not afraid of something like the Great Calamity at all”.

Northern Country - By Tsushimi Bunta

(You can find the magazine that has this story here)


The fresh blood that drizzles from the right wrist of Mithra flutters on the snow-white ground like scarlet petals.

His vividly green eyes darting back and forth, Mithra checks on the pursuers behind him. In his field of vision, which is hindered by the blizzard, are the gun-toting Bradley and Owen.

It was Bradley’s gun that scored a hit on Mithra’s wrist. Mithra has forgotten why he got shot. That often happens.

Bradley’s hair, black as midnight and white as dawn light, is ruffled by the wind. His lips moving, Bradley says something as he smiles boldly. Mithra can’t hear Bradley’s voice, but as Bradley mimes shooting at the temple with his finger, Mithra remembers what he said.

“Your fucking red head’ll look real pretty dropping on the fucking snow”

In that case, I’ll stop hiding, Mithra thinks. He leaps out and charges at his assailants as if he wants to capture the whirlwind. Shuddering at how quick Mithra turns the table, Bradley casts his spell and holds a hand over Owen’s head. Shrouded in the pale light, Owen smiles. His eyes of different colors, which are like red and gold moons lying side by side, glint with a malicious glee.

Mithra has a bad feeling. Owen’s magic isn’t as strong as his, but Bradley excels in amplifying power.

As Owen changes his direction, he opens his trunk. A ferocious three-headed giant dog charges out, more violently than the blizzard.

Owen’s fighting words are straight forward.

“Die!”

“Arsim”

With Mithra’s spell, a door appears mid-air, and he disappears before the monster’s fangs can sink into him. Then he emerges from behind Bradley and Owen.

Owen quickly somersaults out of the way, but Bradley gets caught by Mithra, whose long fingers seizes his face like an eagle’s talons. Staring down the barrel of the resisting gun, Mithra opens his lips and breathes out. Within those seconds of a whisper, the gun has frozen into ice.

“You motherfucker!”

Bradley spits out. He grabs Mithra’s wrist while dangling from the latter’s hand. Twisting mid-air, he bends his body forward and curls into himself. In a split second, killing intent flares from above their head.

Owen, who has flown up on his broom, strikes from above with an ominous red light.

“Cuore memini”

“You fucking mongrel! What if I get caught in that! Who do you think has been buffing you?”

It was Bradley, not Mithra, who cursed. The both of them quickly disperse.

The giant dog monster has been waiting for Mithra. It quickly attacks him. To force those ferocious jaws to close, he kicks hard at a nose of the monster.

“Tsk”

Owen lets out a sound as if to curse when he sees that. Mithra raises his eyebrow in surprise.

“Oh, you care about it. That’s unexpected.”

Owen neither denies or confirms. He growls unhappily.

“I’ll smash that crystal skull of yours into dust.”

“That’d be a nuisance.”

For a second, the face of the original owner of the skull appears in front of Mithra’s eyes. She’s already dead, so he won’t have a second chance if this skull is broken.

Before long, Mithra feels tired. He exhales and turns to the other two.

“Shall we stop here? Why are you two doing this anyway?”

“How dare you even ask that?”

“You of all people dare to talk?”

With the same expression, the other two give the same response.

Mithra thinks a little, but he can’t remember. That often happens.

As if to turn the other side into dinner on a table, they hit at each other in an attempt of mutual murder. As if in an insatiable hunger, they beat the stuffing out of each other.

Perhaps it’s like finding food even more delicious when one has an empty stomach.

That sensation lurks in Owen’s provocative smirk as well as Bradley’s steady gaze.

“Ho ho ho, I wonder if a winner has emerged.”

“Ho ho ho, isn’t it wonderful how enthusiastic they are.”

As their eerie laughter rings across the sky, the twins arrive on their brooms. Their faces are identical, but one of them is alive while the other is a ghost.

Once upon a time, both of the doll-like twins were alive, but one of them perished. They killed the one that was like themselves and settled that they’d never separate. That is how it went.

“Bickering, huh. It’d be a pity to lose any of you.”

“Remember to rein it in. You guys still have work to do.”

 Said duty which the ones who are trying to kill each other here have to fulfill is to protect the world.

For whatever reason, Mithra acts strange. In that moment, Mithra’s vivid green eyes glow with the color of the earth’s promised blessings.

“Interesting.”

“What the fuck are you calling interesting? It isn’t funny, you shithead.”

“I’m hungry. Treat me to something.”

“Who would want to feed you? Who on earth would stop mid-way like that? Don’t make me look like a fool!”

“What’s the problem?”

“Why do you stop? The score hasn’t been settled yet!”

Mithra smiles without thinking at an irate Owen.

He has already forgotten the reason. That often happens.

Southern Country - By Tsushimi Bunta

Wizard of Southern Country Rutile was the Great Witch Tiletta’s son.

He remembered his mother’s face, which was beautiful to his young heart. Bach then, he would be around his mother in the kitchen and watch the steam rising from the pot, as she told him many interesting stories.

Story about the magical beings of ancient time. Story of the lost forest. Story of the mischievous, prank-loving spirits and the cursed jewel. Whichever story from the past his mother told him, Rutile’s heart would beat excitedly.

The first time Rutile used magic was similarly exciting. It was a wonderful, miraculous experience, as if he had been opening an amazing present, as if he had been wearing a special hat, as if he had been walking alone on the road at midnight.

Even now, magic was like an encounter that made the heart flutter to Rutile.

“Ortonik Setomaorge”

Under the sunlight of the clear morning, Rutile walked into the garden of the Manic Manor and cast a spell. Lennox, who was having a walk with Rutile, turned and looked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Lennox was a taciturn shepherd of Southern Country. He gave off the impression of an awkward, simple person, but in his bespectacled eyes dwelt the tranquility of the wind that had wandered for centuries.

Rutile looked up at Lennox, who was very tall, and smiled.

“This flower has gone weak from sickness. I thought it might not be healthy again.”

Lennox’s eyes found said flower in the flower bed. It was still small, but the stem was feeble and the tip of the little leaves had begun to wither.  

The wizards of Southern Country had weak magical power. For weak wizards, it was possible but difficult to grant a being energy. Even so, perhaps the flower that received Rutile’s blessing would energetically greet the morning dews the day after.

“You did well, Rutile.”

Rutile happily smiled at Lennox’ warm eyes.

“Brother! Mr. Lennox!”

Rutile’s younger brother Mitile called out from the direction of the Magic Manor’s entrance. He was pulling insistently at the arm of a yawning Figaro. Lively as a young sprout, Mitile headed towards Rutile’s direction.

“Doctor Figaro, you’re trying to get back to sleep, aren’t you? You said you would have a walk with me in the morning.”

The voice of Mitile, who was scolding an adult, was like the chirpings of the squabbling young birds early in the morning. There was a willful charm in his bright, matter-of-fact tone.

“Sorry, sorry. I stayed up late yesterday.”

“Did you read all night?”

“I was drinking with Oz.”

“That sounds fun. You should’ve invited me too though.”

Rutile loved his alcohol.

Figaro smiled brightly at the innocent Rutile.

“I didn’t expect to hear that. You aren’t afraid of Oz?”

Many people were terrified by Oz, the most powerful wizard in the world. However, on Rutile’s face was the excitement whenever he found something that made his heart pound.

“I found him scary in the beginning, but you said you befriended him, didn’t you? So I’m not afraid of someone who’s your friend, Doctor Figaro.”

Aside from that, recently Rutile had become friends with the red-haired Northern wizard, whom everyone feared, too.

The secret to making your heart beat with excitement was to encounter wonderful things, and you could have such encounters right in your ordinary everyday life. There was something that moved your heart in your familiar kitchen, in the morning scenery, in the words of a dear friend, in the sky when you looked up.

All wizards of Southern Country knew that well.

“It really feels nice to have a walk in the morning. It makes the taste of coffee even better.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t go back to sleep. Oh, look! That cloud is giving off a silvery light. It’s so beautiful.”

“Indeed. It’s like the clouds on the mountains.”

“We can see clouds like that even here. That’s so wonderful. The weather’s lovely today, so maybe we’ll get to see many other nice things too.”

As if to return the blessing to the smiling wizards, the little flower swayed in the wind.