Brand of Borrowing
On the evening of the day I became the Crown Princess's attendant, I dragged my exhausted body to the bath reserved for the attendants of the Imperial Palace.
I opened the massive marble door, and a rush of hot steam wrapped my face. It was late. The bath was enormous—easily big enough for dozens—and aside from me, there wasn't a soul in it.
I sank into the water, stared up at the ceiling, and let out a long, miserable sigh.
"Haa… I have no idea how I'm supposed to live from here on."
The heat was melting the ache out of my body, but my head had gone cold. Everything I'd endured today had been enough to make my skin crawl, and from now on that was supposed to be ordinary life. Every single day. Could I even survive it?
No—before that, why had those old men shoved me in here at all?
Count Garen. Chancellor Cassian. What exactly had they seen in me, that they just had to make me the personal attendant of that tyrant of a princess?
One question chased another, and not a single sharp answer came of it. Forget it. Easier on the heart to decide they were just a pair of eccentric weirdos.
Half an hour or so slipped by like that. I climbed out of the bath and started soaping myself down.
Magic really is nice.
I turned the tap, and steaming hot water came pouring out. Commoners hauled cold water up from rivers and wells to wash with. Nobles and palace folk got to bathe like this, easy as anything, on the strength of magic.
If I ever manage to buy a house of my own, the first thing I'm putting in is a proper bathroom.
I was scrubbing myself with that vow in mind when my eyes caught on the inside of my right forearm.
A tattoo of unknown origin had been sitting there for days.
What even is this… why did it show up?
A complicated geometric pattern. Black, sharp lines tangled together until it looked exactly like a magic circle. For a moment I wondered if someone had snuck in and drawn it on me while I slept, but that was too much of a stretch. Palace security couldn't be that sloppy.
…Should I ask Count Garen?
If anyone knew something, it would be that old man. And he owed me a debt for shoving me into this pit of hell. If he had even a scrap of conscience, he'd teach me something. Who knew—maybe the tattoo had some special power hidden in it.
Strike while the iron is hot.
I made up my mind on the spot.
I'm going right now.
It was late. So what? After the way he'd played me, I had more than earned the right to be this rude.
"……So the reason you've come looking for me in the dead of night is a scrap of tattoo on your arm?"
Count Garen asked it with a face still thick with sleep. A luxurious house robe hung from his shoulders.
"Yes. If it were just a tattoo, I wouldn't have given it a thought. But it appeared a few days ago, and I was worried it might have some ill effect on Her Highness."
Half of that, of course, was an excuse.
"You're not simply itching to know how to use some new power you think you've picked up?"
……Damn it. How did he know?
This old man's instincts were disgustingly sharp.
"Haha, there's a little of that innocent feeling in me too. Honestly, not knowing what it is makes me uneasy."
"Hmph. A month of grinding away in the palace, and most of the flippancy has dropped out of your speech."
"All thanks to the care you've shown me, Count. Who could ever have predicted that I, of all people, would become the Crown Princess's personal attendant?"
At the blatant sarcasm, Count Garen cleared his throat—"Ahem!"—and looked away.
So he did feel the prick of it. You sell a man into a death trap, and if you don't even have a conscience after that, are you still human?
"At any rate, the mark engraved on your arm is an ancient druidic pattern."
"A druid!?"
A druid? One of those legendary beings who talked with animals out in the forest?
My eyes went wide, and Garen waved a hand as if there was no call for the fuss.
"Come. Sit down, and we'll talk."
Having said so, Count Garen stepped out for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a bottle of wine with a light coat of dust on it and two clean wine glasses. He drew the cork with practiced ease and filled the glasses with red.
"Have a glass while we do."
"Yes."
Clink!
We touched glasses, and I took a sip. I'd seen it done in movies, so I rolled it lightly over my tongue and pretended to savor it.
"Mm. Deep aroma, clean finish. This is pretty expensive, isn't it?"
At that, Count Garen grinned.
"A five-year grape wine you can find anywhere on the market. Glad it suits your palate."
…He was taking a dig at me. It felt exactly like he was sneering, country hick who doesn't know wine. Damn it.
We passed the wine back and forth, and he was just about to start explaining the tattoo when—
Bang!
The office door flew open without a word of warning.
"Dad! You're drinking again? The doctor told you not to drink!"
The one who appeared was a girl with a wealth of pink hair tied into twin tails. Fourteen at the outside, if that. At her huffing entrance, Count Garen's face flushed with embarrassment.
"We have a guest today, that's all. Go back at once. A grown young lady, and you come out in your nightclothes in front of a man who isn't family—what is that supposed to be!"
"Hmph, dodging again! A guest—it's always those same ugly knight uncles…"
The girl's gaze swung to me.
And in that instant, every bit of her movement stopped. Her eyes went round as a rabbit's, and all that huffing vanished without a trace. She startled, then suddenly started fussing at her messy hair with both hands, frantically smoothing it down. Her fingers were just as busy flattening the wrinkles in her crumpled nightclothes.
"Ah, Dad… who is this person…?"
Count Garen's brow creased.
"Enough nonsense. Back to your room. We're in the middle of an important conversation."
With that, he set a hand to his daughter's back and pushed her out. Even as she was dragged along, she couldn't tear her eyes off me, and she shouted to the very end.
"I'm Luna! Come again next time!"
The door shut, and a short laugh escaped me.
Feels exactly like meeting a diehard fan.
Was this what idols felt? It wasn't the first time I'd gotten a reaction like that, but the other party was the young lady of a count's house, and it left me strangely unsettled.
A moment later Count Garen returned, heaving a deep sigh. Then, in a voice colder and harder than anything he'd used before, he warned me.
"Mm… you're saying I'd be the one to make the first move?"
I asked it back with a deliberately loaded smile.
He must have caught the real meaning under the words, because Count Garen's expression crumpled into something grim.
"…Damn it. I should teach you and throw you out, and quickly."
No need to clench his jaw like that. I had not the slightest intention of romancing a noble young lady. I just didn't bother saying so. He owed me this much payback.
Garen downed the wine in one swallow and got to the point.
"That pattern is the Brand of Borrowing, used by the ancient druids. A ritual imprint that gathers the essence of nature and life."
"And what does it borrow?"
"One trait from a being that has willingly submitted to the owner of the mark. The deeper the submission, the greater the effect."
"Ooh…!"
Just imagining it, the ability was absurd.
"But don't get the wrong idea. As you are now, it isn't a power with much practical use."
"Why not?"
"If your body can't support it, the limit is borrowing strength from the wild beasts of the forest. You're an ordinary person, aren't you?"
Hitting me with the brutal truth out of nowhere. That's harsh, Count. My dream of maybe borrowing a dragon's power popped like a balloon.
"So realistically… beasts are the ceiling."
I muttered it in a thoroughly deflated voice.
"That's right. Of course, assuming you train your body with real severity, and if luck is with you, you might obtain the power of a magical beast."
"…Then, would you happen to be willing to teach me something like a mana cultivation method?"
Figuring I had nothing to lose, I put on the most pitiful face I could manage.
"Have I lost my mind? Teaching a precious mana cultivation method to a commoner."
Look at him cutting me off in a single stroke.
"Not some great secret art. There must be at least one basic cultivation method the knight order teaches recruits as standard issue."
"You aren't a knight. Therefore I have neither the duty nor the reason to teach you a mana cultivation method."
So forging my body that way was impossible. A shame. In a world this rough, I'd wanted at least one technique to keep myself alive.
"Of course, it isn't as if there's no way at all."
"There's a way?"
"Go to the black market and buy one with money."
Oh. Money really was king.
"How much would that run…?"
"Anything usable would be about a thousand gold apiece."
Are you insane!
That was money I'd have to risk my life working under the princess for a solid ten months to earn.
"But a cultivation method bought that way drops sharply in quality. Train until your bones crack for ten years, and handling aura is still next to impossible."
"…In short, defective goods."
"Another method is finding a master, though I wouldn't particularly recommend it."
"Why?"
"The moment you receive a mana cultivation method, you are forcibly bound to that master's house. For life."
Aha. Sell your freedom, in other words. Absolutely not.
"Aren't there masters without a house?"
"Look, and you'll find some. But would talents of that caliber have any reason to take, as a disciple, someone with no background whatsoever—you?"
This old man was subtly looking down on me again. …And since he wasn't wrong, it annoyed me even more.
"Lastly, there's going to a temple, praying to the god, and receiving divine power."
"Count, that isn't mana."
"Well, what of it. Mana, divine power—same difference."
Garen said something that would have been pure blasphemy, perfectly calm. If I recorded this and sold it to the temple, how much could I get?
"Then at least teach me how to use the tattoo. If I can use even this, I think I'll feel a little easier."
"For free?"
This old man, honestly.
"I absolutely will not approach your daughter, so just teach me."
I decided to use his one and only weakness. At my words, the space between Garen's brows twitched. The effect was certain.
"…Fine. I'll tell you. Listen well."
I swallowed, dry.
It wouldn't be something where I had to offer blood, or memorize a complicated incantation, would it? I watched Garen's mouth, tense, and he spoke.
"They say that once you grow close, you can naturally borrow their power."
"……What?"
"Get close. To the animals."
He offered a method so simple it was almost insulting. I stared at him blankly for a moment.
"…That's it?"
"That's it."
What the hell, then. Getting friendly with animals and borrowing a bit of power was the whole of it? Was this a joke? So it had just been a garbage ability?
"No, but why does this tattoo even appear in the first place? Is it some mark of the chosen?"
"The Goddess of Nature sometimes grants it like a gift, when there's a human who takes her fancy."
Damn it.
I'd thought it was a unique-grade cheat only I could use, and it was just a Good job! sticker the goddess slapped on whoever she happened to feel like. All the strength went out of me at once.
Then Garen rose from his seat and beckoned.
"Follow me."
"Where?"
"I'll teach you how to borrow power directly."
"Ooh…!"
As expected of Count Garen! You are a single ray of light! You are hope! Please strike me very hard for calling you an old fart earlier!
"Don't look at me with eyes that heavy."
"Yes, sir!"
I followed Count Garen in high spirits. So what if the ability was a little lame? Count Garen was going to teach me himself! If it was only enough that bandits and robbers I met on the road couldn't shake me down, I'd be more than satisfied.
Heart pounding, I followed after Count Garen.