Armaals (3): The Logic of the Ritual Unveiled
The ring emitted a strangely ominous light. Ignoring the pounding headache, I forced my brain to work, and the curse revealed its true nature like a poorly tied bundle of threads. It felt exactly like solving the correct pattern in cat’s cradle. Even the most complex mathematical equations, when broken down symbol by symbol, could ultimately be reduced to pages of basic arithmetic. Magic worked the same way. No matter how intricate or clever the spell formula appeared, it was nothing more than a technique that manipulated mana to produce a desired effect.
…So the curse is parasitizing the existing magic.
The spell formula covering the ring had a double-layered structure. It was likely that the original enchantment placed by Primor’s husband had been invaded by the curse, which was now feeding on the mana. This was what had turned a perfectly functional magic item into a cursed object.
The curse has two effects. Corrupting the blood. And placing the corrupted corpse under the control of the black mage Correntus. Those two. But Correntus’s death had introduced a flaw into the flow of the spell—a situation akin to part of a mathematical formula being smeared beyond recognition.
Attacking it honestly from the front would make dispelling it difficult, but if I widened this crack, the curse would collapse on its own. That decided exactly where I needed to strike.
Shwaaaaaah…!
I sliced through the spell formula and sent my mana flooding into the curse. A normal enchantment would naturally reject foreign mana, but there was a weak point where resistance was low and my power could slip through easily.
…This is it.
A mirage-like shimmer rippled around the ring. I pinned down the curse’s origin point and tore the illusion away with my fingers.
—Riiip!
Something translucent, like a sheet of paper being torn, ripped free from the ring and caught on my index finger.
—Kieeeeeeek!!
The instant the spell shattered cleanly, the curse transformed into purple mana and thrashed like a mouse caught by the tail. Because I had destroyed it while preserving its original form, the curse had been extracted intact. Without so much as blinking, I crushed its source in my grip.
—Crunch!
The shattered curse burst apart in my palm.
“Is… is that the curse you just…?”
The bishop muttered while fending off the holy knights that had suddenly appeared. He didn’t seem to be asking me directly, so I said nothing and simply returned the ring to its owner.
“It’s dispelled. It came apart so easily that it looks like someone had already done preliminary work. I left the original enchantment intact.”
I offered a convenient white lie because I felt awkward about finishing the job in a ten-second cut. Primor, however, gave no reaction at all. Ignoring me? That’s cold. She seemed to be touching the ring in an attempt to sense the difference, but if she could have detected it that easily, she never would have needed to cut off her own finger. The reason she had stopped must have been because she felt no change whatsoever.
Even so, as if that were enough, Primor—who had been blankly stroking the ring—suddenly rose to her feet.
“…Forgive me, everyone. I am not feeling well, so I must excuse myself first.”
Her voice was thick with unshed tears as she turned away. Her escorts followed the lady of their lord with expressions that mixed complicated emotions, surprise, and joy.
The bishop, still dazed by my dispelling technique, spoke up.
“I have not heard the full story, but it is truly unfortunate.”
“That is for the madam to decide for herself.”
When I sat down and answered, he gaped as if I had struck him, then burst out laughing as though something were hilarious.
“Hahahahaha! Indeed! Yes, exactly! Sir Nord, you seem more like a man of the cloth than I do! Hahahahaha!”
To the bishop, whose cheeks jiggled as he laughed, Selena and I returned awkward smiles of our own.
I swear I’ll never understand the sense of humor these otherworlders have.
After that, the bishop continued chatting with me, peppering me with questions about exactly what kind of dispelling method I had used earlier and what sort of curse afflicted his wife that even that skill could not touch. Seeing it as part of building connections, I gave him suitably vague answers.
It was difficult to believe I could solve the Bicorn clan’s curse on my own, after all.
Even if that weren’t the case, a true dispelling specialist would probably have far more insight into locating curses than a cheat-user like me.
After exchanging conversation, suggestions, and the like, I withdrew from the dinner gathering. The fact that I now refused to let even chance encounters slip by made me realize I had become quite the otherworlder in my behavior.
Still, it would have been nice if things had ended there on a pleasant note.
The very next day, at the crack of dawn, I received yet another unexpected visitor.
“Nord! Is the hero of Renapolis, the archaeologist Nord, present?!”
At the front gate of the Hermeion estate. A boy so tiny that one might mistake him for a dwarf at first glance stood dressed in impeccable noble attire and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“I wish to heal the long-standing wounds of my beloved Minerva!! Please sell the Elixir to me!!”
—Rumble!
His voice echoed not only through the mansion but across the entire surrounding residential district.
“…A romanticist has shown up at the crack of dawn, huh.”
At Larilura’s sleepy murmur, I nodded.
I’ve only been in this city a short while. Why the hell are so many people looking for me, damn it.
“If we wait, Miss Selena will handle it somehow. Senior, wanna roll around with me in the meantime~?”
“You’ve gotten pretty good at seducing people lately. But it looks like I’m about to get dragged in front of that guy, so I should wash up first.”
“…Then shall we wash together♡?”
“…Tsk. There’s no reason to refuse that, is there?”
And so Larilura and I began exchanging heated glances first thing in the morning.
Since rescuing Tirsi and extinguishing the most urgent fires, things had been like this whenever we had a spare moment. Unlike the old days when we restrained ourselves in front of our junior, now everywhere I looked there was a wife. We had reached the level of shameless newlywed flirting taken straight into 19+ territory.
At that point, someone yanked my ear as if to restrain us. It was Veronica.
“Go and return first. Go and return. It is obvious as seeing fire that if you two rub against each other while washing, you will end up entangled.”
“Aw, why? It might not happen.”
“That’s right, sister! How can you be so sure?!”
“Speak no nonsense. Does it look like it will not happen? If Larilura seduces him, our master—who these days has no worries at all—would truly refuse? Hah.”
At those words I stared hard at Veronica.
“…Aha, I see. You’re saying that since I won’t seduce you, if you’re going to wash anyway, you might as well wash with me, right?”
Even if that hadn’t been her intention, I decided to treat it as if it were. I promptly scooped Veronica up in my arms. Her eyes widened like a kitten grabbed by the scruff of its neck.
“…What? Huh? No, wait, wait a moment! Wait!”
“Ehe. Don’t struggle. I understood the meaning perfectly, didn’t I?”
While being kicked by her flailing legs, I headed straight for the shower room. Larilura, who had been watching the scene with her mouth hanging open, finally came to her senses and shouted with a tearful face.
“Sisters!! Veronica sister is cutting in line again, that’s so mean!! …Sisters?”
Even though Larilura sobbed and shouted, neither Franc nor Dana answered. Why? Because our quick-acting wives were already waiting inside the shower room.
“…Ahem.”
At my dumbfounded stare, Dana cleared her throat and spoke.
“Hey, we came to wash and you suddenly barge in?”
“Weren’t you lying in bed until just now, noona?”
“Was I? You can’t go around framing people without evidence, you know?”
“Hehe. Even if that were true, we got here first, didn’t we?”
—Click.
Franc locked the shower room door as she spoke, and 0.1 seconds later Larilura grabbed the handle and began rattling it furiously.
“Aaaah!! Open this!! How can you sisters do this?! I want to come in too!! I was the one who suggested it first—!!”
“Puhuhu. Who said not to wash? But it really is a bit narrow for five people.”
“Wash leisurely by yourself later. You can use the bathtub all to yourself. It’ll be nice.”
“Hgyaaaaaak!! I’m going to break it! I’m going to break the door!!”
“Yeah~ I already reinforced it with magic~.”
Our wives really do get along wonderfully. Chuckling at their comedy routine, I asked Veronica,
“So? Aren’t you going to wash?”
Our attendant chewed her lip for a moment before answering.
“…I will wash with you.”
Yes. How refreshing it is to be honest.
***
After washing and changing clothes, I followed a maid to the reception room. I had truly only washed, but because I had to soothe a bitterly crying Larilura, I ended up a little late. I hurried as much as possible, yet it seemed I was already behind; Selena and the loud little brat were already seated inside.
“You’ve arrived!! A pleasure!!”
The boy who had been shouting noisily since dawn greeted me with an enthusiastic handshake the moment he saw me. Of course, his attitude was that of a superior addressing an inferior, which made the undead Confucian dragon inside me roar that a brat who looked like he hadn’t lived even half my life had no right to speak so casually.
“It is an honor to meet you. I am a humble archaeologist named Nord.”
Naturally, I ignored the Confucian dragon’s roar. Who was I? A warrior who was the successor of the god of death, Odin himself. The lingering scraps of a half-dead Confucian Taliban were beneath my notice. I bowed at a respectful but not servile angle, accepted the handshake, and sat down.
Primor was also present in the reception room. She was drinking tea with perfect grace, as though last night’s disheveled state had been an illusion. But damn it, tea again? If nobles kept drinking tea until their stomachs were full, they wouldn’t be able to eat any actual food. If it was green tea again I was seriously going to flip the table.
By the way, isn’t barging in like this considered rude?
I first checked Selena’s expression. Ever since I and the guests I brought had caused nobles to show up without appointments, I couldn’t help worrying whether she might be annoyed.
“Dismuke. Serve tea to Mr. Nord as well.”
“Yes, miss.”
Fortunately, Selena did not appear upset. If she had truly been angry, she would have at least given me a secret signal. I felt relieved, yet resolved to prevent such incidents in the future. Trust was something that tended to crumble if shaken too often.
“I am Marcello Culapius. Minerva’s husband.”
I nodded and made a gesture that I was listening attentively. It was surprising that this tiny boy was the husband of that formidable woman, yet my mind remained perfectly calm. Ever since I had heard that the young lady swollen like ramen left soaking in broth for three days lived with three or four handsome husbands, I had discarded all common sense regarding the married lives of nobles in this world.
The boy spoke with a dignified attitude that stopped just short of arrogance.
“I assume you have heard the story, but I wish to purchase the Elixir in your possession.”
“That is a most welcome offer, however…”
“Wait. Allow me to finish.”
When I trailed off, the boy raised his hand to stop me.
“I am well aware you might wait for the next auction in order to sell at a higher price. Therefore—double! I will purchase it at twice the amount this woman has offered!”
“…Hmm. How do you know how much I intend to sell it for that you can say such a thing?”
Primor set her teacup down and spoke. The boy glared at her.
“The amount does not matter! Do you think I would give even a single drop of Elixir to Minerva’s enemy?!”
“One sip would be sufficient for me. I believe a suitable compromise can be found.”
“I refuse!”
The boy dismissed the idea as not even worth hearing. His stance was so resolute it was almost stifling, but I understood why.
There must have been some issue between Minerva and the Armaals family.
I didn’t know the details, and honestly I wasn’t particularly interested. Still, even I would be furious if bastards like Immortalis chopped off my wives’ limbs and then asked me to share the Elixir to heal their own wounds. In that sense, this boy was actually showing remarkable restraint for his age.
“…I see. There is no room for compromise.”
—Clink.
Primor, who had set her teacup down, narrowed her eyes.
“Very well. Then let us stop this absurd talk of doubling the price and settle the matter with a one-on-one auction instead.”
“…An auction?”
“Yes. Originally I had no intention of becoming this obsessed with the Elixir, but… it is also unsightly for a noble to repeatedly go back on their word. The last bottle remaining in this country—I have no intention of letting it slip away.”
Primor and Minerva’s husband locked eyes in midair. Having become Minerva’s husband at such a young age, the boy was likely from a fairly wealthy and influential family. He would not lose to the lady of the Armaals family in financial power. In other words, this was truly a battle of pride between nobles.
—Gulp.
Selena swallowed so quietly that only I could hear it.
Noble versus noble. A husband seeking to heal his wife’s wounds, and a wife wishing to wear the ring left behind by her deceased husband. The epic clash between these two—staking their wealth and pride on a single bottle of Elixir—was about to begin—
“—Since when did you fall under the misconception that there is only one bottle of Elixir?”
—It did not. I placed the two bottles of Elixir I had brought onto the table. Anticipating that things might develop this way, I had brought every bottle I possessed. One-on-one auction or not, neither Minerva nor Primor were people I wanted to turn into enemies. Selling at a reasonable price with the feeling of offering appropriate bribes would be wiser.
…It’s not as if I have no other way to obtain more Elixirs.
Of course, that “way” would come after I had sold these bottles to them.
To the pair who had forgotten their dignity and now sat with mouths agape, I offered an extremely gentle smile and said,
“How much were you planning to offer?”
Hurry up and buy them, then leave. This uncle also needs to go back and soothe his crying wife.