15. Finance Director Fan Club (Not Really)
15. Finance Director Fan Club (Not Really)
Now and then, you have one of those moments where you can't tell if you're dreaming or awake. When you're certain you haven't misheard or mis-seen anything, yet reality still refuses to make sense.
Right now was exactly that.
"So... you're saying you came here to protect me?"
"That's right."
"Because I'm this 'brother-in-law' of yours?"
"Yes."
Had the man actually gone senile? He was younger than the Chairwoman.
The person seated across from me was a celebrity even I recognized. Margrave Gregory Claudia, the Kingdom's 8th Rank. This was the first time I'd seen him in person, though I'd heard he was coming. The pressure radiating off him was on par with the Chairwoman's, so I had no doubt it was him.
But what was this brother-in-law business?
'Brother-in-law... that means the husband of an older sister, doesn't it.'
The Margrave's older sister? Someone older than this old man? The only woman I knew who was older than him was the Chairwoman.
Which would make me the Chairwoman's husband?
Hm.
"Lord Gregory, I'm grateful for the generous sentiment, but that's rather—"
"No need to be modest, my boy. I've heard plenty from Julius already."
Julius? What the hell had that man been telling him?
No, it wasn't hard to guess. He'd seen me getting along well with the Chairwoman and jumped to some absurd conclusions.
A sigh escaped me.
'Does that even make sense.'
Sure, the Chairwoman looked like she was in her early twenties, but her actual age was on an entirely different plane. If I didn't know that, maybe—but after spending over a year at her side and learning every last thing there was to know about her, the idea was dead on arrival.
To me, the Chairwoman was a superior I had to serve and a habitual menace who wrecked budgets in ways I could never predict. She was not a romantic prospect.
I didn't argue the point vigorously, though.
"...In any case, I'm honored that you think so highly of me."
"Worry not, brother-in-law. I'll be pushing for you with enthusiasm."
"Ha ha, understood."
At the end of the day, the Margrave was only a little younger than the Chairwoman—still an old man. This was no different from meeting elderly relatives over the holidays and getting hit with "When are you getting married?" and "When's the ceremony?" Smiling vaguely and nodding along worked far better than trying to refute them point by point. I'd just mention it in passing to the Chairwoman later.
That aside.
I fixed my gaze on the doorway Crown Prince Zeke and his attendants had exited through.
"I've heard there have been unusual movements in the Delphia Kingdom lately."
"Nunim must have told you. As expected of my brother-in-law."
"...Under those circumstances, the fact that the Crown Prince himself made the journey to a foreign nation—"
"Either there's a reason weighty enough to justify it."
"Or he had cause to flee the Kingdom. One of the two."
"Sharp. As expected of my brother-in-law."
He'd been tacking on strange qualifiers for a while now. I ignored them.
Quietly, I fingered the scrap of paper inside my pocket.
'He said a personal request was written inside.'
After the Margrave barged in, there'd been a long, uncomfortable standoff. Not involving me—between Crown Prince Zeke and the Margrave.
The Margrave's territory bordered both Delphia and the Kingdom, so there would've been no shortage of friction over the years. On top of that, the Margrave was stronger than Delphia's sole 8th Rank and belonged to a more powerful nation to begin with—which really said it all.
Naturally, the staring match between two parties who were bound to have a difficult history ended in the Margrave's victory. Crown Prince Zeke had Susanne slip me a note on the sly, then left the room.
And did the Margrave not know about it?
'Not a chance.'
Every 8th Rank I knew was a monster who could pick up on everything happening around them with preternatural senses. There was no way he'd missed a Crown Prince and a woman named Susanne—neither of them 8th Rank—passing me a note.
The fact that he didn't mention it... was probably because he was busily propping me up by calling me brother-in-law. A genuinely unintentional assist.
I'd check the note later.
"But now that His Highness Crown Prince Zeke has departed, isn't there no further need to protect me?"
"I do appreciate how straightforward you are. But I still have business here."
"...It's because of the next guest."
"Correct."
The Margrave had said his reason for guarding me was to keep Crown Prince Zeke in check. There were certainly plenty of suspicious aspects to the Crown Prince's movements, Beatrice's situation included.
By that logic, once the Crown Prince was gone, there was no reason to keep guarding me.
Yet the Margrave remained in the room. Because of the next guest.
I'd politely suggested there was no need for him to stay any longer, but the Margrave had wanted to remain.
After all, the next guest was—
Clack.
In that instant, a strange noise came from the leather chair beside me and the Margrave.
Before I could even react, the Margrave was already on his feet, standing in front of me like a shield. But the uncanny sound only grew louder, utterly indifferent to his wariness.
Clack. Clack. Clack-clack-clack.
A rhythm subtly in sync and subtly off. A black square appearing in midair folded and unfolded, expanding in size, producing a bizarre clockwork ticking.
Then, at some point, the black square assumed a human form.
And as the blackness fell away, a young man with an almost impossibly faint presence sat there.
Long green hair reaching to his waist, pointed ears, the fresh scent of grass.
An elf.
The last survivor of a race once called by that name—now the sole remaining member on the continent—slowly opened his eyes.
"I have heard your name many times, yet seeing you in person is a first."
"I greet a member of the World Tree's family. Would it be acceptable to offer my formal respects?"
"...That is a manner of greeting long forgotten. Truly an old relic of the past."
"I had the fortune to learn of it."
"Preposterous. The World Tree burned, and even among those called family, I alone remain... yet those words stir nostalgia. You have my thanks."
"The honor is mine."
I'd heard a great deal about the Elf Archmage from the Chairwoman. Nine-tenths of it had been abuse or profanity, to be honest, but a few things had been worth remembering.
Over a century had passed since the World Tree was burned by three 8th Rank monsters, and most of those who'd known anything about the Elf Archmage had grown old and died. The Chairwoman was one of the vanishingly rare exceptions.
I'd scored a few points. Earning even a sliver of goodwill from an 8th Rank who'd arrived via some incomprehensible magic—that was a meaningful achievement.
'At least the Margrave is on good terms with the Chairwoman.'
The Elf Archmage was a completely different story. I'd never seen him in <Dark Kingdom>, and he wasn't on friendly terms with the Chairwoman. To put it bluntly, if he decided to kill me and flee, not even the Chairwoman could catch him.
Standing in front of me, the Margrave's eyes were glinting in a way I didn't entirely trust, and at some point he'd gotten a firm grip on a spear—but having a reassuring bodyguard didn't mean I could afford to be careless with the Elf Archmage.
The young man with the otherworldly air quietly regarded me.
...Come to think of it, wasn't he younger than the Chairwoman? So why did his presence feel older? Did the Chairwoman just come across young?
"I have heard your name often."
"The honor is mine alone, but I must wonder how my insignificant name reached your ears."
"I heard it from the child who is the fifth among my disciples. Her name is Chloe."
I'd suspected as much, but of course it was Chloe. She'd received the surname Pisti from him in the first place.
Elves were a peculiar race. Calling them a race at all was almost an exaggeration, given how vanishingly few of them remained—and every last one of them was bound together as a single "family." More accurately, only one remained now, so "used to be" would be the correct phrasing.
And the Elf Archmage, the race's last survivor, had sought to preserve the elven lineage by any means. The World Tree that had been everything to them was burned by three 8th Rank monsters, and even their homeland was gone—but he wanted to leave behind at least the surname "Pisti."
But just as humans and dwarves couldn't produce children together, elves couldn't produce children with other races either.
So the Elf Archmage, having become Master of the Magic Tower, selected and winnowed disciples, and to the precious few who earned his full recognition, he granted the surname Pisti.
Thus, Chloe Pisti.
'Of course, if you flunk out midway, the surname gets confiscated.'
A truly peculiar and exacting race, in more ways than one. Back when the World Tree still stood, the Chairwoman had visited an elven village and been so thoroughly put off that she refused to speak of elves ever again.
The fact that the Elf Archmage was unusual among them was the only reason communication was barely possible. You could even say that being a little different from ordinary elves was what allowed him to survive.
As an aside, of the three 8th Rank monsters that burned the World Tree and slaughtered the elves, two escaped alive and one was killed.
Considering that the Holy Kingdom had been annihilated wholesale by the 8th Rank monster Mountain King, that was an extraordinary outcome. The very fact that the last survivor was an 8th Rank spoke volumes about how powerful the elven race had been. The Empire didn't treat him as their highest-priority asset and try every trick to keep him bound to them for nothing.
But why had the Elf Archmage come looking for me? And Chloe, what exactly did you tell him?
"My fifth family member... Chloe is a clever child. Despite her youth, her ferocity and achievements are exceptional. I hold great expectations for her."
"Student Chloe has also been earning outstanding marks at the academy."
"I would expect as much. Yet as her family, there is a matter that concerns me. I came out of worry for her."
"I see."
So that's what this was. A parent complaint, just on a grander scale.
With so many noble children attending Grandis Academy, complaints from parents—from nobles, that is—were considerable. Bribery was out of the question thanks to the Chairwoman's presence, but there were always complaints about whether their children were doing well, eating properly, that sort of thing.
That was why the head of Student Affairs had become so timid in the first place... At any rate, the Elf Archmage had heard about me from Chloe and come calling.
'I'll just pass this along to the Student Affairs Department head.'
A common working-adult skill: This isn't my responsibility, please go to such-and-such office—I was just about to deploy it.
"It would seem the child has fallen in love."
"Then the Student Affairs Department offi—pardon?"
"And it would seem that you are the object of that affection."
"Brother-in-law...?"
What. No, seriously, what.
The Elf Archmage's words were already a lot to process, but why was the Margrave looking at me with eyes that said "you're not, right?" Weren't you supposed to be protecting me? Why did that spear seem to be edging in my direction?
"I have come to deliver a warning on the matter."
"There must be some sort of mis—"
"I consider her family, yet Chloe is human in the end. If she were to couple with you, a fellow human, a child would surely result."
"Pfft—!?"
"That would mean a reckless expansion of the family. A matter of genuine concern. I have come to make my position on this unequivocally clear."
"..."
"I have no intention of crushing the emotion called love itself, yet it would be best not to leave any room for it from the start. Reject Chloe's feelings, and refrain from coupling, naturally. This is a warning."
The Elf Archmage's words were indeed a complaint.
Just not the sort of complaint a parent lodges.
It was the complaint of an overprotective parent...