Rach's Orb (1)
"Oh—oh, five million gold! Ahh, ten million gold! Who is that gentleman? Could he be the Emperor himself?!"
He was the Emperor, as it happened.
Luid covered his eyes, unable to bear watching any longer.
What is he even doing, seriously.
Irene was one thing, but he simply could not fathom why the Emperor was over there doing that.
The auction caught fire.
"Eleven million gold!"
Once the bidding passed ten million, most of the participants gave up.
Hershey was among them. She slumped in her seat, a look of utter dejection on her face.
"T-ten million gold! At this rate we'll see an all-time record!"
The corners of Luid's mouth began to tremble.
Those two were raising their bids by the second. The moment Irene pushed, the Emperor pushed right back.
Fine, whatever, he could let the Emperor slide. The problem was Irene.
Irene's money was House Windsor's money.
Which meant it was, for all intents and purposes, his own money!
That lunatic…!
Granted, he himself had gotten carried away and dropped a hundred thousand gold on the arctic fox — an animal he could have bought for a mere thousand.
But the arctic fox was cute, okay?
Still — did it make any sense that House Windsor would pay ten million gold for a recording orb of his own lecture? That was enough money to buy an entire barony. Luid couldn't stand it a moment longer. Look over here. Look over here. He glared at Irene with everything he had.
Thankfully, their eyes met. Luid shook his head desperately, doing his best to convey knock it off.
"Thirteen… th-thirteen million gold! One moment, please. We will now proceed to verify the bidders' vaults."
Having bid thirty million gold, Irene blew Luid a thumbs-up, even mustering what she seemed to think was a reassuring smile.
"You little—!"
Luid nearly spat out a curse. Hershey beside him flinched.
"L-Luid?"
"At this rate we'll be beggars. I have to stop her."
In Luid's mind, Irene had already transformed into a gambling addict squandering the family fortune on a losing streak.
He steeled himself and rose from his seat, glancing around the hall. He spotted the Headmaster practically applauding like a delighted seal and made straight for him.
"Headmaster."
"Bwahahaha, with this we could build a new training ground… Hmm? If it isn't the loafer. You were still here?"
Clifford beamed at Luid with a face full of smug delight.
"Heh heh, so the sight of those figures finally stirred your greedy little heart, did it, boy?"
Luid had no appetite for money. The amount sitting in his subspace alone came to a hundred million gold — because he had linked his subspace directly to House Windsor's vault with instructions to spend freely.
And half of that was about to fly out the window right now.
"…Isn't this enough? Please put a stop to it, Headmaster."
"Heh heh, I'm afraid not. A heated auction is exactly what every bidder in that hall is hoping for, isn't it?"
He hadn't expected this money-grubbing old man to give up easily.
Luid bit his lip.
"Then I'll grant you one favor in return."
"A favor?"
"There was something you wanted from me, wasn't there?"
Clifford gave an awkward laugh.
"You knew all along?"
"Yes."
What the Headmaster wanted was the full, unrestricted publication of the theory presented at the lecture. In truth, the man had been the one to propose the expensive recording orb in the first place, just to gouge him for it — and he had made it painfully obvious, asking with mournful eyes whether Luid really intended to freeze the lecture's theory.
"Heh heh."
Clifford stroked his chin, appeared to weigh it for a moment, then nodded without hesitation.
"Preserving my dignity in front of a lazybones like you would mean nothing anyway. Very well. Truth be told, that was what I wanted more than a few tens of millions of gold. However—"
Clifford fixed the two bidders still locked in their final contest with a cool, hard stare.
"Even if you mediate, do you honestly believe those two will accept it?"
"Sell to both of them."
"What?"
"…You have spare orbs, don't you? Collect the full payment from both of them, too. If anything, you'll come out ahead on the money — the bidding's badly overheated."
Clifford found it infuriating how neatly Luid cleaned up the situation. Headmaster and student, no less — being led around by the nose like this hardly made for a dignified look.
And yet nothing served the Academy better than this plan. Financially, thirty million gold would stand as the highest price in its history; even reselling later would never fetch more. On top of that, publishing Luid's magic theory through the Academy promised no small measure of scholarly prestige.
Though it galled him, Clifford had no choice but to nod.
"So be it."
He rose, hands clasped behind his back, and murmured instructions to an attendant waiting nearby. The attendant relayed the message in a flash, and the auctioneer, catching wind of it, called out:
"By the auctioneer's proposal, BOTH parties win the lot at thirty million gold! With this, we hereby close this session of Mediabali. Winning bidders, kindly prepare your payment and come to the counter."
The counter of Mediabali.
In that space of airtight identity protection stood the auctioneer Carcona and the two winning bidders.
"Your original order, My Lord, was 'allow no orb bearing Luid's image to pass into any hand whatsoever'…"
Irene signed the guarantee papers and handed them to Carcona, who bowed at the waist, trembling from head to toe.
"Since Luid appears to have intervened, I shall withdraw."
The Emperor held his orb up to the sunlight as he spoke.
"I was just pondering how to punish an insolent vassal who dares to outbid his Emperor with money, but out of fondness for my dear nephew, I'll let it pass."
Irene gave a slight bow in reply.
"A nephew… how honored I am, though my father is not of the imperial family."
"Every Windsor in history has been tied to the throne by blood. A nephew in all but name, no? Where else would those red eyes of yours have come from?"
"All the same, I am not your nephew."
The two had, in fact, been locked in a war of nerves for some time now.
The Emperor let slip a soft chuckle, wreathed in easy confidence.
"Then shall I call you my son-in-law instead? I am, after all, currently pushing for a marriage with my daughter—"
"Speaking in advance as the next head of House Windsor: that engagement is refused."
"My, my. Then I suppose I must push harder before you become head."
Irene's eyebrows twitched.
Not once until now had anything rattled her — but when it came to Luid, nothing worked better. The Emperor savored a rare moment of pure satisfaction. Hands behind his back, he strode out of the counter area. He intended to go see Luid, after a long absence.
Not to be outdone, Irene stalked after the Emperor with terrifying determination.
On the way to the counter to collect his winning bids — Rach's Orb and the arctic fox — Luid ran straight into the Emperor and Irene.
Hershey, catching sight of Irene, ducked behind Luid. Since Luid was the smaller of the two, it didn't hide her very well.
"If you wanted the arctic fox so badly, you should have simply sent word."
Irene stepped forward and spoke first.
"I wasn't planning to raise one."
Had he wanted it, an arctic fox could have been procured here just as easily. The only reason he hadn't was that he'd been missing the North lately. You never realize a thing is precious while you still have it — never realize it is precious at all. The moment Luid had laid eyes on that arctic fox, he had resolved to raise one himself.
"Really? You looked rather delighted about it. If you miss the North, then right this moment—"
"Luid. It's been a while."
Interrupting, the Emperor crouched down in front of Luid.
…Does he have nothing better to do?
Such was the irreverent thought that crossed Luid's mind.
"You came to the Imperial Capital — you might have paid a visit."
"I've only been in the Capital a month."
The Emperor looked genuinely wounded.
"A month is a long time to wait."
"…We came here together in the first place."
Who is this man?
Hershey stood there utterly bewildered. A powerful perception-blocking enchantment kept her from recognizing the Emperor.
But he clearly knew Luid, so she could at least gather that he was someone of considerable standing. She offered a greeting.
"Hello. I am Hershey Minerva. I'm a friend of Luid's."
"Ho ho. If it isn't the heir of Minerva."
The Emperor spoke warmly.
"May the two of you continue getting along so well as 'friends'."
There was something distinctly pointed in the way he stressed the word friend.
The Emperor straightened up.
"I would love to linger and talk, but I left in haste — time is short."
"Farewell, Your— sir."
Irene bowed her head at once. Hershey blinked in mild shock. Was there truly anyone in the Empire whom the heir of House Windsor would bow to?
Don't tell me — the Emperor?
What am I even thinking.
Hershey shook her head furiously.
"You come with me as well."
Irene made no answer, only smiled.
"There is a matter I must discuss in private. Concerning Windsor."
The Emperor said it with his hands still behind his back. Irene was none too pleased about it, but as it concerned the family, she could not refuse. Instead, she murmured quietly to Luid:
"Wait at the estate with Amelia."
"Okay."
Unbuttoning her coat, Irene followed after the Emperor.
So cool…
To Hershey, Irene looked more magnificent than any knight she had ever seen — the crisp bearing, the composure, the way she carried herself, all of it. A little terrifying, admittedly.
While she stood entranced by Irene's retreating figure, staring after it for a good long while, she turned around to find Luid already far down the road.
Hershey jogged to catch up and asked:
"Who was that person?"
"Secret."
"Aww…"
Hershey pouted her lips.
Having won everything he wanted, Luid returned to the Academy with Hershey. She still had classes left, and he had agreed to wait for her. He had at least that much loyalty in him.
More than anything, though—
"Kyang! Kyang!"
—he wanted to play with the fox.
That's the arctic fox I used to watch at home, all right.
Luid watched the bundle of fluff tearing around Delhin's Lake like it owned the place, a fond warmth in his eyes. Just watching it felt like therapy. He crouched down and spread his arms.
"Come here."
Had it already learned its master's scent? The arctic fox spotted Luid and charged at full speed, flinging itself into his arms. Luid flopped back onto the grass without a second thought.
"Kyaaang!"
The fox licked his face. Laughing, Luid pulled it close and stroked its head; it rumbled contentedly, clearly taken with the attention.
He gripped it under its front legs and lifted it up.
"Foxes really are love itself."
Those adorable black eyes, the small quick ears — and above all, that plush, silky fur was a joy just to bury his hands in.
"What should I name you?"
Luid gave it grave consideration.
"Snowy?"
"Kyang…"
"Whitey?"
"Kyang!"
The fox did not seem to approve. Realizing he possessed a catastrophic lack of talent for naming things, Luid decided to consult Hershey later.
First — playtime. Luid set the fox down beside his head, drew out his staff, and aimed it at the sky.
"An arctic fox belongs on snow, after all."
Thanks to his temperature-regulation magic it hardly mattered, but an arctic fox would be happier with snow underfoot.
A blue light spilled from the tip of Luid's staff and climbed toward the heavens. It was no outlandish weather-warping spell — simply magic to draw water from the sky and freeze it as it fell.
The change was immediate. Tiny ice crystals began drifting down onto Luid's skin. The fox licked one off his cheek. And so, over Delhin's Lake, white snow began to fall.
"There we go."
Luid rose from his spot and reached into empty air — to rummage around, pull out whatever came to hand, and toss it for the fox.
"…Maybe not this one."
What he had fished out was the Mana Heart — a jewel crystallized the color of red fire, the legendary core of a dragon. He tossed it carelessly into the air, and his subspace swallowed it back up. He plunged his arm in deeper and drew out something else.
"Hm?"
This time it was Rach's Orb. He'd meant to put the ominous thing away, but—
"Kyaaang! Kyang!"
"…You like this one?"
The fox wagged its tail furiously, fidgeting in place. It looked very interested indeed.
"Hmm."
Luid raised the orb and examined it once more, closely.
…He felt nothing. Truly, not the faintest trace of anything.
"It'll be fine, right?"
Whatever happened, he was confident he could handle it. Even in the original story, the "Indolent Luid" had subdued Rach without breaking a sweat.
Without a care in the world, Luid threw the orb.
"Kyang!"
The fox sprinted after it, snatched the orb in its mouth, and came bounding back. Luid's face lit up.
"Good boy, good boy."
He gave its head a pat. The fox, ever so well-mannered, spat the orb back out, wrinkled its nose, and wagged its tail as if to say throw it again.
Luid hurled it with all his strength.
And at that moment—
Vwoooong!
"…?"
Rach's Orb did not fly on. It stopped dead in midair.
It began to resonate, glowing a venomous purple.
Luid stared at it, dumbfounded, for a long moment.
"…And here I was having such a peaceful day."
Then the orb flared brilliant and blinding, and something like mist began seeping out of it.
[Keh-heh-heh! At long last, the moment I have waited for— you pitiful, ignorant mortal!]
"……"
Luid's brows drew slowly together.
Then they settled into the expression of a man regarding a piece of garbage.
Without a word, he reached into empty air. The ice crystals raining from the sky gathered in his hand in an instant, coalescing into the shape of a spear.
[S-splendid, I'll admit. B-but did you truly think your magic could mean anything against I, R-Rach—]
"Go back to the ground you crawled out of."
Luid thrust the spear forward, without an ounce of mercy.