The Emperor is Moving. Emir's Training, Seria's Jealousy
Ronald Count was waiting in the drawing room. He tapped anxiously on the desk with his fingers.
"What's the matter?"
"Ah, Minister."
"For you to come all this way, it doesn't seem like a small issue."
"There's unusual movement in the south and west of the empire. It seems the emperor is planning to mobilize troops."
"Is the emperor mad?"
An investigation team was about to be formed over charges of abusing and torturing the empress. Mobilizing troops in this situation? Was he planning a civil war?
"Perhaps... I think it's a means to pressure the nobles in the west and south."
"Since the east is in Solarion's grasp?"
"Yes."
"And the north can't be touched because of the barbarians."
"That's right."
"He's out of his mind."
"And there's one more thing."
"What is it?"
Ronald licked his dry lips.
"The emperor is trying to replace the Magic Department Minister by questioning his qualifications."
He looked genuinely flustered. And rightly so. The influence of the Magic Department Minister was immense. He held the authority to summon mages from across the empire to the battlefield and could wield the various magical weapons in the Magic Tower.
Not all mages obey the summons, but having it makes a huge difference.
There were plenty of mages eager to advance through the Magic Tower by serving the empire. If I were removed from my position, it would mean losing all that power.
However.
They can appoint me at will, but removing me is another story.
To dismiss the Magic Department Minister, the emperor needed two conditions: a magic duel with a mage of the same circle as the current minister, and permission from Jane, the transcendent bound to the Magic Tower. Both had to align perfectly.
There might be an 8th circle mage somewhere if they scoured the empire—a grand mage who had abandoned worldly affairs.
But one thing the emperor overlooked.
That I'm bound to Jane by a pact.
She wouldn't want me replaced, no matter what. She couldn't.
"Don't worry about that."
"But they've already found an 8th circle mage..."
The emergence of a new 8th circle mage, as if they'd been waiting.
It feels like they prepared this in advance.
"Don't worry. It's fine."
Even if Jane agreed to the replacement, I didn't think I'd lose.
"Really?"
"If I couldn't handle it perfectly, I wouldn't have started."
Ronald met my eyes and clamped his mouth shut.
"Understood. I'll trust the minister's words. We wouldn't have come this far without you."
"To be safe with the west and south, you should demand the nobles rally."
"But that could spark a civil war."
"We can't just sit idly by."
Ronald nodded in agreement.
"I'll do that. I'll report back if anything else arises."
"Got it."
After sending off Ronald Count, it was well past lunchtime. This time, Emir arrived at the mansion. To keep my promise to teach her the sword.
Emir wore far more active clothing than usual: tan training pants and a white shirt, both made from magical fibers with excellent stretch and sweat absorption.
"You ready?"
"Of course."
Emir swallowed hard. Her eyes burned with resolve to overcome any hardship.
"First, swing the sword simply. I need to gauge your level."
"Got it."
Emir gripped her sword and swung in the mansion's open field. Solarion's domineering strikes unfolded from her hands.
Whoosh!
The blade cut the wind and tore space. Fast and powerful strikes that didn't suit her at all.
I watched silently. She gritted her teeth, swinging fiercely, but nothing impressive emerged.
High level, but that's it.
She wasn't fully comprehending and wielding Solarion's domineering swordsmanship. It was textbook mimicry of what she'd heard and learned.
Conclusion: the sword didn't suit Emir.
"Hah, hah. How was it?"
Finishing her demonstration, Emir panted, shoulders heaving.
"Hm, not bad. But many shortcomings."
I gestured to Seria standing behind me.
"Bring a towel for the Solarion lady."
"Understood."
Seria would attend to Emir during training.
Seria handed Emir the towel calmly. I spoke as Emir wiped her face.
"Solarion's sword is domineering. Strong, but that path doesn't fit you."
"...Doesn't fit?"
"Yes."
"But everything I learned is Solarion style."
"I know. Learning a whole new style now would be impossible. So my plan is..."
I picked up a prepared practice wooden sword.
"Keep the Solarion base, but adapt it to suit you."
"Is that possible?"
"Just grasp the essence. I don't know all of Solarion's techniques and secrets, of course."
Whoosh!
I swung lightly to warm up.
"I'll teach you adaptations from the Solarion paths I know."
"...Okay. You're my teacher here, Morris."
"The rest is up to you."
I swung. From Solarion's paths I knew, but softer, more fluid. Down from above, right from left. The flow never broke once.
Like a beautiful dance, I continued seamlessly.
Screeech!
Smooth swings, yet the air-ripping sound was sharp. Sharpness within softness—that was the essence of the new Solarion sword I'd teach her.
"Wow..."
When I finished, Emir stared, entranced. At my sword, precisely.
"H-how?"
"What do you mean?"
"You wield a sword well too? And you're a mage?"
"Magic and sword reach the same extreme. Defeating foes more effectively."
"...Even so."
"Want to try?"
Emir raised her sword again.
"Teach me from the start."
"Got it."
I swung once more. Emir watched intently, determined not to miss a thing, though still bewildered.
Of course she couldn't grasp it all at once. I understood.
"I've shown a few demonstrations. Learn step by step."
"Thank you."
Now Emir's turn. She tried mimicking my sword dance, but flaws abounded.
"Softer there."
"Don't just memorize—understand why you swing that way."
Dozens, hundreds of swings. But her ingrained Solarion style lingered, hard to shake.
This'll take a while.
But fine. Whatever time it took, bad habits learned from me would fade fast.
"Your body's twisting. Smaller than men, so avoid heavy overheads or big swings—aim to strike fast."
"Fast how?"
"Like this."
I thrust the wooden sword swiftly. Clean, no excess, silent through the air.
"You won't match this, but minimize waste, and you'll approximate it."
"Wow."
Emir marveled briefly, tried imitating, but failed easily.
"Hoo."
I approached.
"Grip softer. Like gently cradling."
I wrapped her sword hand, guiding her grip. Better learned through body than words. Pure intent.
Thump thump.
A heartbeat sounded. Hers? No—mine.
Damn it.
Before I realized, my body reacted. Heart racing wildly, blood surging, various responses firing.
But I kept a straight face.
First time I'd held her hand. This cursed body reacted fiercely to the touch.
"Got it?"
No reply. Puzzled, I looked. Her face flushed crimson, ready to burst.
Damn it. She looked so adorably cute.
"Lady, focus."
"A-ah, yes."
Emir avoided my eyes desperately.
"No distractions. Focus."
A warning to her—and my body.
"Got it."
Emir refocused, swung repeatedly. Until the sun dipped west.
Seria, attending Emir's training, gritted her teeth against surging jealousy.
Jealous! So jealous! I envy her!
But she hid it from Emir. The Solarion lady. She knew how much Emir once loved Morris.
Emir had shown jealousy then. Seria's now was no less—probably more.
Showing it here? Emir would mock her triumphantly. Unbearable.
So she calmly prepared towels.
Why the Solarion woman...? She's supposed to be Master's enemy.
She knew Morris had become the noble faction's head in politics. The Solarion lady, their foe, coming for sword lessons? Absurd.
Seria eyed sweat-soaked Emir. Magical fibers couldn't absorb it all. White shirt clung, revealing black underwear lines against pale skin.
And the pants: sweat-drenched, hugging her ass, panties visible.
Emir, the empire's flower, beautiful. Sweaty like that? Most men would be captivated.
She's doing it on purpose.
Seducing Master! Not so innocent. Dangerous rival.
What about Master?
Seria glanced casually. Huh? An expression he'd never shown her—averting eyes, troubled. Like shyly avoiding Emir's gaze.
Eeeek!
She couldn't lose. No jealousy shown, but this was too much.
Pretending to bring water, Seria approached Emir.
"Ack!"
Seria clumsily "tripped." The water bottle flew high.
Soon it'd soak her clothes, drawing attention. But—
Whumm.
The bottle halted midair. Morris caught falling Seria.
"Such incompetence from a maid? It'd tarnish the family name."
Anger flickered in his eyes.
"A-ah... Master. S-sorry..."
She'd forgotten: Morris was strict with servants' mistakes. Jealousy blinded her to that. So stupid.
Then, his lips to her ear, whispering softly:
"Cute. That desperate for my attention?"
"Eh?"
Nothing like expected.
"Bear the jealousy. I'll teach you that spell you need soon."
"Ah..."
His gaze down at her—softer, gentler than ever. A mere lip twitch to outsiders.
But to her, it shone.
Seria's eyes sparkled. Magic-learning zeal surged. She could do it. Because it was him. It'd work.
Whatever spell he chose, she'd master it.
If I can see this face.