Magic Practicum (4)
The mages could not close their gaping mouths.
The wall had collapsed?
The wall of the Colosseum, which had gone three hundred years without so much as a scratch?
But here, one man felt no astonishment at all — only a fury that burned all the way to the roots of his hair. Clifford.
"Y-you, you, you wretch! What in the blazes am I supposed to do with this! Aaargh!"
Clifford came scrambling down from the stands and seized a handful of the crumbled brick. It disintegrated between his fingers with a soft, grinding hiss. His hands trembled like aspen leaves.
"Three hundred years of history! A monument of history cherished since my grandfather's day, and you—!"
Luid, with his catlike eyes, was attempting to slink quietly out of sight.
"And where do you think you're running off to, you little delinquent!"
Clifford seized him by the nape and hoisted him into the air. Tiny next to the tall chancellor, Luid dangled helplessly like a puppet as he was dragged up before Clifford's furious glare.
"You insolent brat, do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Luid rolled his eyes this way and that, then fished his wand out of his coat and gave it a lazy twirl toward the ruined wall.
"Go back."
But the seconds passed, and only silence lingered in the air.
Figures it wouldn't work…
Luid shot Clifford an awkward, sidelong glance.
Clifford, wearing an expression of pure incredulity, dropped him to the ground. Luid wobbled for a moment, struggling to find his balance.
"Did you genuinely believe that would work? Time magic wouldn't avail you even if the Great Magician Delin herself were reborn, you fool!"
Two things magic could not do: create, and meddle with the flow of time and space.
Restoring a shattered building apparently fell under the latter. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still left him a little flustered.
"And don't you dare think this ends here. The Windsor family will be receiving a bill for the full cost of damages!"
Luid nodded meekly. Well, if a fine is all it takes, that's a win, he thought — but alas, Clifford was no pushover, as ever.
"Still, I can hardly let someone off with a mere invoice simply because he had the good fortune to be born into the right family. You will receive an additional punishment."
Ugh, this is going to be a hassle.
He could already picture it: scrubbing the headmaster's office, or being forced to sit through lectures. There was no escaping it.
"But before that — don't you have something you ought to say first?"
Luid blinked.
"When you've done wrong… what comes first again?"
At the murderous shift in Clifford's gaze, he flinched. Clasping his hands together, he bowed his head deeply.
"I'm sorry."
Clifford's tone softened, just a little.
"Good. But next time, this won't slide so easily. Now then, let me inform you of your punishment."
Hands clasped behind his back, the chancellor declared:
"Your sentence is this — you will deliver a lecture, before an audience, on the magic you just used."
"…Huh?"
The punishment was far milder than anything he'd imagined, and Luid's eyes went round with surprise.
Clifford barked at him.
"Didn't you just hear them clamoring for a magic demonstration! Or would you rather take the beating instead!"
"N-no, sir! My sincerest apologies!"
Luid fled at top speed. Even a once-in-a-millennium genius found it hard to face a man with the features of a retired drill sergeant — and Clifford wore exactly those.
By the time Luid returned to his seat, it was already swarmed on all sides by a crowd.
People with an interest in the Windsor siblings — professors included. One gaunt-cheeked professor was gesturing grandly, rattling off something at length.
Amelia did not so much as turn her head toward them. She answered flatly, without a flicker of expression. The surrounding voices blended into an indistinct murmur, so his exact words were lost — but one thing was certain: whatever she said sent the whole crowd recoiling in horror back to their own seats.
"Ah, Lui."
Amelia broke into a bright smile and waved. Luid settled into the seat beside her.
"What was all that? Big crowd over there."
Her smile stiffened slightly at the edges.
"They had the audacity to ask you to hold a magic lecture. Lady Hershey was in the middle of chasing them off for it."
"Huh?"
"They wanted you to share the spellwork you used a moment ago, free of any compensation. That is an egregious insult to any mage."
Hershey supplied the details, her expression distinctly sour.
…So that's what that was?
Only minutes ago he'd been thanking his stars for the chancellor's merciful punishment. Apparently it hadn't been merciful at all. The image of Clifford as some paragon educator shattered with an audible crack.
"I don't mind, though."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Truth is, I already agreed to give the magic lecture as payment for breaking the Colosseum wall."
Amelia's brow furrowed.
"Lui, I cannot let that remark pass. What wrong could you possibly have committed?"
"I did destroy property, so… my fault, I suppose."
Amelia narrowed her eyes into a dangerous squint — then, as was her custom, opened with a flat denial.
"No? My little brother has done nothing wrong at all?"
She reached over and stroked his hair. To Amelia, Luid was simply a source of pride. Far from a fault, she considered his actions praiseworthy — hadn't he shattered the great Delin's magic, after all?
And if the Academy dared impose any disadvantage on him, she had no intention of standing by and allowing it.
"Lady Amelia is quite right."
Hershey chimed in.
"The Colosseum's defensive magic exists to protect the spectators no matter what happens. The Academy has never once stopped boasting about that fact. The fact that it broke means this is the Academy's failure — not Luid's fault."
Just then, the announcer's voice rang out across the field, and the suspended practicum resumed.
— Participants, step forward in your assigned order and prepare your duels. The practicum will now begin!
The first match of the day was about to commence. Watching it, Hershey continued.
"You might owe them a moral duty, perhaps — but that's a matter of a repair bill, nothing more. If anything, the Academy gets criticized every single year for its 'absurdly excessive magic barriers.' Thanks to this incident, those critics will have to swallow their words. All the better for them, really."
Amelia breathed a sigh of admiration. She hadn't thought that far.
No wonder he's Luid's friend — sharp as a blade.
She was glad he'd befriended someone so dependable. Amelia liked Hershey very much.
"I see…?"
"Precisely. So decline the offer outright. There is no reason Luid should open a magic lecture and hand over his knowledge."
Hershey's voice carried a note of genuine worry.
"If this kind of thing keeps happening, people will keep making unreasonable demands of Luid. And then they'll turn around and be disappointed in him, on their own terms."
For a mage, the word sharing could never be anything but a sensitive one.
A single completed spell demanded generations of accumulated effort. It was the same reason mages were almost exclusively nobility: magic was a discipline nearly impossible to enter without formal study, and the only magic a commoner could ever learn was the simple, public-domain sort open to everyone.
"That part's fine. Even if I taught them, no one could copy it."
"…Pardon?"
"Well — the magic I used… isn't exactly efficient."
I shouldn't have shown off like that. Embarrassing, honestly.
If anything, Luid was the one feeling ashamed. He'd had to spout cringe-inducing incantations like "O wind, thou who…" just to cast it.
Which meant that, by the standards of the prodigious "Indolent Luid," this was a spell so difficult that without an incantation, even his genius brain couldn't attempt it.
No one who heard it explained would ever manage to replicate it.
More than anything, he simply didn't like the spell. Even without the catastrophe it caused, it had proven more lackluster than expected — a spell he'd never need to cast again.
For a throwaway spell like that, there was nothing to hoard and nothing to regret. Even if the chancellor considered it a win for the Academy, no one actually lost anything, so it was fine.
"Even so. Luid, your problem is that you're far too naive."
Amelia nodded along with deep, heartfelt agreement.
"True. Lui's problem is that he's much too naive. However does he intend to survive this treacherous world?"
"You're the naive one, big sis. Remember when you got scammed buying a carriage and had to sleep outdoors?"
At Luid's instant rebuttal, a crack ran across Amelia's brow.
"……Lui. I believe we agreed that would stay between us?"
"…Did we?"
Amelia smiled sweetly and leaned in to whisper.
"If you hadn't been born so adorably, you'd have been beaten three times a day, you know."
It sounded utterly sincere, which made it terrifying. Luid obediently turned his attention to the match.
"Oh. The feather thief."
And there, standing on the field, was Justin.
Right. The protagonist.
It had slipped his mind — today's main character was Justin.
He'd sworn an oath to keep his distance from the protagonist's circle anyway, so barring something truly extraordinary, there should have been no entanglement with them—
But this time was different. Luid spoke up, a slight tension in his voice.
"Hershey, do you remember what I asked you before?"
"Of course. Kindly do not underestimate my memory."
Hershey beamed with pride.
"You said you'd prefer lamb for lunch today, didn't you? I've already reserved a suitable restaurant."
"…Yes, that too. But also — if you end up facing a weaker opponent in a duel, I want you to give it everything you have."
Hershey tilted her head, puzzled, but nodded.
"Well… personally, I do believe the weak deserve a proper attitude adjustment. Yes — if it comes to that, I'll reduce them to rubble."
He was about to tell her that rubble wasn't strictly necessary when—
Justin came striding toward them, eyes locked on their seats.
"I can feel the hostility from here."
Amelia murmured.
Stubborn, set eyes. A mouth pressed into a hard line. And above all, that gaze… it was venomous.
That's the face of a man whose justice radar just switched on. Why, though? Don't tell me it's about me? Is he angry about the wall?
But that made no sense. The Covenant of Vows he had walked miles to inscribe with his own wand was absolute.
A chance encounter like this one was harmless — but for Justin to approach him with any deliberate intent, by any means whatsoever, was simply impossible.
Justin stopped at a careful distance. And this was no illusion: he was looking directly at them. Then he raised a finger and pointed.
Was he raised by wolves? Pointing at people like that…
Luid had assumed the finger would swing toward Hershey. Instead, it drifted — and settled on Amelia.
At the utterly unforeseen variable, Luid's expression hardened in an instant.
"Amelia Windsor."
Amelia regarded Justin coolly, without a hint of agitation.
"I request a duel."
A frigid silence swept through the hall.
Then it erupted — students bursting into murmurs from every corner.
'Is he out of his mind?'
'He's finally lost it.'
By any sane measure, there was no way Amelia could lose.
Even if she grew as careless as Hershey had been in the original story — even if she fought one-armed — victory would be hers, completely.
And yet.
Why does this… feel so rotten?
"How utterly laughable, you."
Hershey rose to her feet in one motion.
"A commoner, daring to point a finger at her? At anyone?"
Her voice was nothing like the one she used with Luid — it was ice-cold.
"Whatever your intentions are, know that this is egregious insolence. Merely extending the offer is a hideous profanity in itself."
Wand in hand, Hershey strode proudly out onto the field.
Justin spoke through a clenched jaw.
"As I understand it, any practicum opponent is acceptable. It makes no difference who."
"My, what an amusing little argument. By your logic, then, even if I were to blast you to pieces, you'd have no complaint whatsoever?"
Hershey leveled her wand at him.
"Draw your wand, you filthy commoner."
"……"
Face rigid, Justin pulled out his own wand.
And in that very instant—
BOOM!
A ferocious wind spell slammed into Justin's abdomen.
"Gahk—!"
His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled where he stood. Barely three seconds had passed since the duel began.
An unbridgeable gulf of skill. Just as in the original story — only reversed. There would be no version of events where Hershey fell to Justin.
And yet Luid could not smile.
Was it because a full year had passed since he'd possessed a noble's body? Or was it simply that Justin rubbed him the wrong way? He couldn't tell.
Only this: the thought that the fingertips of that wretched commoner had pointed at Amelia — it made his blood curdle.