The Magic Seminar (5)
How on earth did it come to this.
Luid cast a bleary eye over the lecture hall, which had descended into a state of near-chaos.
“Chancellor.”
“You good-for-nothing rascal, how many of those can you manage at most?”
Clifford was practically giddy. So absorbed in the magic that he seemed entirely blind to his surroundings.
Luid shrugged toward Catherine, who had gone half to stone beside him.
“I don't think this is the time, sir.”
“Hm?”
Only then did Clifford glance around. The hall had sunk into a deep, heavy silence.
“Has something happened?”
Catherine spoke with a rigid expression.
“Damon Kairos used magic indoors.”
“What possible problem is there with using magic in a lecture hall?”
“That's not the point—!”
Catherine jabbed a finger in Damon's direction.
“He used it on a person.”
“What?”
At words he had never imagined, Clifford followed the line of Catherine's hand. There stood Damon, arms crossed in a posture of supreme arrogance.
Clifford's face hardened like sinking stone.
“Using magic on a person—that is a malicious accusation. Are you speaking out of spite?”
“No, sir.”
Catherine wore a look of triumphant certainty. This was the same Clifford who had once considered outright expulsion over a single spell. Casting magic directly in front of the Chancellor? That added contempt of authority on top of everything else. She believed, without a shadow of doubt, that severe punishment was coming.
…Her thoughts were written so plainly across her face that Luid could only think one thing to himself.
Yeah, that's not gonna happen.
Knowing Damon Kairos as he did, Luid could say with absolute confidence: unless the man actually killed someone, nothing he did would ever count as a problem. After all, this was the Imperial Academy—
and he was royalty.
“Is this true, Prince Damon?”
Clifford rose from his massive frame and strode toward Damon, who answered with leisurely poise.
“This body merely heard an intriguing theory and put it into practice. Were you not equally absorbed in your own experiments, Chancellor?”
“I warned you plainly before, did I not—do not cause a disturbance. If it is true you aimed magic at a person, I will not simply let it pass.”
Damon gave a careless shrug.
“A disturbance? Nonsense. Do not tell me you would take the word of that lowborn wretch over mine, a prince of the blood?”
Clifford stroked his chin with a thoughtful hmm. Come to think of it, Catherine Obillion did have a record of one forced, baseless argument already. He turned his gaze on her.
Catherine spoke, seething.
“Everyone saw it! He cast magic at Hannah as if she were some kind of experiment!”
A faint smirk curled Damon's lips.
“That girl simply happened to be standing in the space where this body cast magic.”
“Liar! You aimed at her perfectly, precisely—!”
“Well, it is true that she asked a vulgar question and disturbed this body's mood, and that fact may have been… reflected in the casting. And so? Did the spell actually land? Is there not a single soul harmed?”
Catherine's fists clenched, her whole body trembling with rage.
“If anything, they should be thanking me.”
Damon spread both hands with practiced ease, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“I could have killed her. I chose not to. I am the savior of that commoner's miserable life. Am I not?”
The presence of a man who had lived his entire life as a ruler. The unmistakable tone of one who would tolerate no rebuttal. What lay beneath that tone didn't matter in the slightest—
the entire room had already been crushed beneath Damon's weight.
“What crime have I committed? If anyone has a counterargument, speak it. Anyone at all.”
Most of the students wouldn't even meet Damon's eyes.
A blatant sneer settled on his face.
Luid found himself genuinely admiring the shamelessness. Truly, a villain painted by a master.
Justin, what are you doing?? Aren't you supposed to be his target?
But our original protagonist lay unconscious on the floor. Luid was disappointed.
“That's… that's absurd sophistry! Chancellor!”
Clifford was staring hard at Damon. He already knew the answer, of course—but Damon Kairos was a dangerous man in more ways than one.
I've been meaning to deal with that madman eventually, but—
Unless the line had been crossed beyond any doubt, moving against him now could very well poison the entire Academy. There were tangled political threads woven through this—proceeding carelessly was not an option.
“Is there definitive proof that Prince Damon used magic on a person?”
“Of course there is! Everyone in this room saw it!”
Seeking agreement, Catherine swept her gaze across the crowd. But every single person looked away.
Panic spread across her face. The reason was simple: fear. Damon did not operate on anything resembling common sense. If something displeased him, he swept it aside; if it inconvenienced him, he killed it. Everyone here knew that.
“You, though…”
Catherine turned to Hannah, her gaze wavering.
“You're supposed to testify, aren't you?”
Hannah lowered her head.
“I… didn't see anything.”
Shock flooded Catherine's eyes.
Justin had stepped forward with courage against the mad prince's one-sided violence—wasn't even the deranged royal something to fear? But all that came back was avoidance.
“What is this pathetic little farce.”
Damon's eyes shifted to the look one reserves for insects. The faint flicker of interest he'd harbored moments ago died out completely.
“So commoner loyalty amounts to this much. What a pride—scarcely worth that of a worm.”
“Chancellor.”
Catherine drew a deep breath. Screaming solved nothing—she had learned that much from last time.
“If you can see Justin lying unconscious over there, then please, stop pretending nothing happened.”
Clifford answered with cold precision.
“Did he collapse from overexerting his magic, or was it truly Prince Damon's attack? Bring me at least evidence sufficient to make that judgment.”
“I'm a witness, and… and—”
Catherine looked at Luid. From where Luid stood, it was a desperately, achingly hopeful look.
“…Young Master Luid saw it.”
More certain than the testimony of a dozen commoners—Luid's word. Catherine believed it was the only way to overturn this entire situation.
“Even if Young Master Luid did see it, would that testimony carry no weight either?”
Clifford answered without hesitation.
“Of course it would. A word from Windsor carries weight.”
“Oh-ho. You mean to say that within the Imperial Academy, you would hold a prince of the blood accountable?”
“I do, Prince Damon. The Academy's laws cannot presume to punish a prince—but a formal protest to the Imperial Family through proper channels? That much is owed.”
Only the Emperor could judge the crimes of royalty. It was the supreme law of the Empire.
Damon clicked his tongue in clear displeasure.
“You are gravely mistaken, Chancellor. Do you truly believe His Majesty would listen to a word you say?”
Clifford ignored him entirely and turned to Luid.
“Luid Christopher. Speak exactly what you saw.”
The decision had, for all intents and purposes, landed in Luid's lap. He blinked slowly, thinking it over.
What should I do here.
It was true he didn't like that commoner, Hannah. There'd been a vague stew of anger and inferiority complex dripping off her question, and it had been unpleasant. It also grated on him that she hadn't spared him a single word, couldn't so much as move against Damon, and wouldn't even admit she'd been the one hurt.
He didn't feel particularly warm toward Justin or Catherine either, setting aside questions of who was actually telling the truth.
But—was making an enemy of royalty over kids like this really the right call?
Still—
He didn't want to lie if he could help it.
“…Let's say the first spell was an experiment. Everything after that was unmistakably an attack. He pressed down on us with the authority of the Imperial Family.”
“I used my authority because—”
Damon snorted.
“That insignificant commoner bared hostility toward this body. Insulting the Imperial Family is punishable by immediate execution. As I said before, she should be grateful I spared her at all. Surely you don't imagine the Academy's rules stand above the Empire's law?”
Luid looked at Damon with dead, half-lidded eyes. That confidence could only come from the certainty that no matter what happened, no one could punish him. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
It was a bit dirty, but Luid decided to play his trump card.
“Don't know, don't care. Chancellor—I'll speak to His Majesty the Emperor personally. I'll tell him Damon ruined my seminar.”
Clearly nothing he'd anticipated—Damon's pupils wavered violently.
The Imperial Palace of the Phanthesium Empire—a secret passage.
Before its entrance, a hulking giant of a man and a man of strikingly handsome features were deep in conversation.
“Your Majesty…! You cannot mean to go without a single guard!”
“Just look at the size of Garter's frame and you'll understand why it cannot enter even this secret passage.”
The Guardian Knight, Gallahead Lion, looked down at his own enormous body in bewilderment.
“Even the old women in the Furte Territory would recognize you as Sir Gallahead, you know.”
The Furte Territory was a small domain at the southernmost edge of the Empire. Its other name: the End of the Empire.
The Emperor shook his head and drew his hood over himself.
“Th-then at least take another guard—”
“My knights have loyalty and skill to spare, but acting is nowhere among their talents. Did they not get caught once before?”
There was indeed precedent. Receiving the Emperor's gaze, heavy with deep distrust, Gallahead sank to one knee.
“Those traitors—! I broke a leg apiece for it, Your Majesty!”
The Emperor plugged his ears against a voice loud enough to rupture eardrums.
“Loud. Too loud, Sir Gallahead. Do you intend to burst Your Majesty's eardrums?”
“F-forgive me.”
The Emperor issued a firm warning.
“I know your devotion is without flaw, but enough. This is a command.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Gallahead ground his teeth. Bowing his head lower still, he roared his plea.
“Then at least grant me knowledge of where you go! I shall keep watch over you at all times!”
“The auction house.”
“Understood, Your Maj—… I beg your pardon?”
Gallahead raised his head, bewilderment written all over his face.
“Y-Your Majesty. Forgive my presumption, but… what possible reason could you have to visit the auction house…?”
“I am going to purchase the recording crystal containing my dear friend's son.”
“…Do you mean Young Master Luid?”
Gallahead recalled the story that had recently set even the Imperial Palace abuzz. The tale of the Windsor family's genius presenting an entirely new paradigm to the world of magical scholarship—yet declining to contribute it openly, permitting its use only to those who attended his seminar in person, or who would later view the recording to be distributed.
“That old man's greed has well and truly fermented—he insists on releasing them one per year, the wretch. Well, nothing to be done. Even if it means setting aside the pressing affairs of state, I shall simply have to go myself.”
Gallahead remained utterly baffled.
“…Did Your Majesty hold an interest in magic?”
The Emperor's specialty had always been the sword, never magic.
“Have I ever cared a whit for magic? I merely wish to watch a child—like a nephew I have known since his infancy—apply himself earnestly to something.”
Gallahead was dumbfounded. But letting it show on his face would be a grave discourtesy, so instead he bellowed.
“Your Majesty! If it is something you need, then I, Gallahead, will retrieve it without fail! Place your trust in me!”
“There is only one recording crystal in this auction. Who knows when another will be released—that dottering old man's mind is beyond even my reckoning. But this much is certain.”
The Emperor's crimson eyes grew grave.
She will come. A madwoman my knights could never withstand.
The castle of House Windsor.
“You have heard the news, I trust.”
A backdrop of endless white. A woman in a jet-black military uniform gazed out the window, her presence so cold one would believe the snow swirling over House Windsor was conjured by her alone.
Before her, a blonde woman with the same striking features, dressed for conquest, knelt on one knee and answered.
“I have, Head of House.”
It was Irene Windsor, the rightful heir of the Ducal House of Windsor.
“It has been some time since you last went to the Imperial Capital.”
The Duchess of Windsor spoke as though it were already settled fact. Irene answered with a serene smile.
“It has been a while—but there will be no problems. Whatever the Head of House desires, I will bring back.”
“There must be no mistakes.”
The Duchess spoke with absolute severity.
“You will retrieve the recording of my son—without fail. I will not tolerate it falling into another's hands. Not even if that other is the Emperor himself.”
And so, the contest for the recording crystal bearing Luid's likeness—
began careening toward a conclusion from which no one could walk away unchanged.