I Need a Pillow (2)
Today, as ever, Luid was deep in his midday slumber.
And as usual, his head rested not on a book but on a goose-down pillow Amelia had brought him — a famous brand product that moneyed nobles of the Imperial Capital clamored over.
"Hm."
Luid rolled this way and that. No matter which position he tried, something felt off.
"Ah……"
A sigh of pure irritation. Finally deciding he couldn't bear it a moment longer, he sat up and glared at the pillow. When he'd been sleeping on books, at least the discomfort was familiar — easy enough to shrug off. But now that he remembered what a modern pillow felt like, this subtle wrongness was driving him up the wall.
"This is suffocating. I'm losing my mind."
—Rustle.
Just then, he heard someone pushing their way through the forest. ……Amelia? But it wasn't. Emerging from the trees was a white-haired professor distinguished by a full white beard.
His eyes went wide with surprise at the sight of Luid.
"Heh heh. So the fairy said to dwell by Delin's Lake was you all along."
Luid had never met the man before, yet he could already guess who he was.
"Professor Fennel?"
"Oh? You, who never attends class, know my name? Half right, half wrong, though. My name is Richard."
Richard Fennel. A professor of alchemy, known to Luid only as an eccentric oddball.
"Are you here to catch me?"
"I confess I've long been curious about the fairy of Delin's Lake, but no, that's not why I've come today."
Richard walked up and stood beside Luid, pointing off somewhere.
"Have you ever heard of Adrane's Flower?"
"No, sir."
"A flower that blooms, only rarely, in regions where the mana density of the air runs high. A most precious alchemical ingredient."
Down by the water's edge, a flower frozen in blue bloom clung precariously to the rocks near the lake.
So that ice flower is called Adrane's.
Luid had seen it plenty of times himself — a strangely shaped blossom that grew in clusters near the base of the lake. He'd had no idea it was rare.
"Rare? There are loads of them, though."
"Delin's Lake holds the highest mana concentration in the entire world. Even the fastidious Adrane can hardly refuse such an invitation, can it?"
Richard strolled down the slope with his hands clasped behind his back. Luid half-feared the old man would take a tumble, but he returned safely with a few of the flowers snapped off. He held them out on his open palm for Luid to see.
"But one must never take too many at once. Three a day is the limit. This flower only thrives once its numbers grow past a certain point."
"Ah. Understood."
Richard spoke with a gentle warmth in his voice.
"Would you look after them for me? You hardly seem to have anything else to do."
"……Fine, I suppose."
Luid answered obediently — he was afraid that if he pushed back, the old man might drag him off to sit through a lecture.
"Then I'll see you later. Preferably in the lecture hall, hm?"
Luid, naturally, had zero intention of any such thing, but as a son of the Land of Courtesy, he bowed his head politely all the same.
And there, in his lowered field of vision, he saw the pillow.
He is a professor, though. Surely he'd know something.
Better than agonizing over it alone, at any rate. He called out to Richard, who was brushing past just in front of him.
"Professor Fennel."
"What is it, Christopher?"
Richard had deliberately used Luid's middle name — a return courtesy for being addressed by surname. Luid didn't particularly care either way.
"What's the best material for a pillow? Besides goose down, I mean."
Richard blinked at the unexpected question, but a student had asked in good faith. He stroked his chin and answered with all the diligence he could muster.
"Hm… duck down is a common pillow fill as well, but I suspect that's not the answer you're after. Otherwise you'd have no reason to ask an alchemy professor, would you?"
Exactly right. Luid nodded along eagerly.
"I want a special material — one that reshapes itself to fit the form of your head."
Richard pondered a moment, then raised a finger.
"Feathers that shift according to physical force… there are two that come to mind: the feather of Laifne, and the feather of the Phoenix. But Laifne's habitat lies a hundred miles away, so the Phoenix's feather is the realistic option."
"The Phoenix's feather?"
"The notion of stuffing a pillow with the feather of that majestic divine beast is, I grant you, utterly absurd… but it changes shape freely at will. A pillow made of it would be like sleeping on a cloud."
Luid's eyes sparkled.
"Where is it?"
"Not far at all. The highest point in this Academy."
Richard pointed a finger into the sky. The clouds obscured it, but the faint silhouette of a spire was visible through them.
"At the very top of that tower lies the Phoenix's nest."
"Thank you."
"…You're going right now, aren't you."
"Yes."
Luid's pillow situation was urgent. There wasn't a single reason in the world to hesitate.
Richard could only gape at the student who proposed to fetch the feather of a once-in-an-era divine beast as casually as popping out to the village market.
"You do know the Phoenix is one of the Four Great Divine Beasts?"
"Is that important?"
"Hoo. Such nerve. If one without permission approaches that nest, your entire body will go up in flames. Do you truly wish to stake your life on this, at your tender age?"
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Knock politely, of course. We are civilized people, are we not?"
Luid scratched his head with an air of profound inconvenience.
"Walk all the way up there?"
"Just so. Do you know how difficult it is to obtain a Phoenix's feather?"
Richard chuckled softly as he gazed toward the Cloud Spire.
"Every year, any number of mages climb that tower in pursuit of one. And the vast majority fail. The Phoenix won't so much as open its door for those it deems unqualified. There's a saying that a crystal made of a mage's tears sits before that very door."
"But even a single strand would be enough to grant your every wish. The eternally reborn Phoenix can replicate even one feather, infinitely."
"Of course, the original feather must remain nearby for the copies to hold. Which is why a Phoenix's feather simply cannot be found on the market. No mage alive is foolish enough to part with a treasure beyond all price—"
Mid-lecture, flushed with his own enthusiasm, Richard suddenly realized that Luid was no longer there.
A faint scent of mana lingered in the air. He traced it — and there, far in the distance, he saw a figure streaking toward the Cloud Spire.
"Heh heh."
Richard took it all in good humor, his eyes narrowing.
"Christopher."
By then Luid had already shrunk to a black dot.
"You've earned yourself a demerit."
The charge: toying with a professor.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"That old man talks. Way. Too much."
Luid glanced back over his shoulder mid-flight and muttered. He'd nearly dozed off just listening. How could one person have that many words? It was like a downpour pouring straight into his ears. If he ever suffered from insomnia, that professor would make excellent sleep aid.
Anyway — arrived at the Cloud Spire by flight magic, Luid set both feet on solid ground.
The height was dizzying. The clouds drifted close enough to touch, which said everything.
"The nest is……"
He didn't need to search long. Right in front of him, his eyes met the Phoenix's.
What struck him first were the long, magnificent feathers, burning with radiance of red and gold. Its beak and talons gleamed golden, and its eyes sparkled like jewels.
So this is a Phoenix.
The feeling of facing a legendary divine beast in the flesh was……
My future pillow.
The feathers looked so soft.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Phoenix regarded the uninvited guest who had barged in broad daylight.
"Kyak! Kkak! Kyaaak!"
—Who are you, to enter without so much as a knock?
The Phoenix flapped its wings, spreading them wide in threat. Plumage like roaring flame bore down on Luid menacingly.
Luid ambled toward it with half-lidded eyes.
"Kyaaaak!"
—Foolish human. Do you not sense your peril?
"I'll just take one feather, yeah?"
The Phoenix flapped its wings in fury.
"Kyak, kyak! Kkak kyak!"
—There is no feather for an insolent human! Out of my lair, at once!
Needless to say, Luid understood not a word, and reached out to pluck a feather.
The Phoenix retreated, beating its wings mightily. The tremendous gale forced Luid to shield his eyes with one arm.
"Kyak!"
—Consider this a warning! Come one step closer and you shall suffer poor circulation in your extremities for the next three years!
The Phoenix was the bonded familiar raised by the Headmaster himself.
*A supernatural being that protects and aids a mage, regarded as a companion for life.
It naturally knew Luid was a student of the Academy, and so refrained from any attack that might truly endanger his life.
"Ah, come on. So stingy."
Luid waved a hand through the air as if the whole thing were a bother. An immense surge of mana stirred and gathered around his body.
"K-Kyak!"
Startled, the Phoenix frantically flapped its wings to disrupt his casting. A wind packed with frigid cold came rushing at Luid — cold powerful enough to freeze an ordinary man solid where he stood.
Even as it unleashed it, the Phoenix felt a pang of regret. Shocked by the sheer scale of the boy's mana, it had struck far harder than intended.
But contrary to the Phoenix's worry—
"Oh."
Luid was completely fine.
Better than fine—
"Wow, this is freezing. In a good way."
He was actually enjoying the icy blast.
"Natural resources really are in a league of their own. I should come back in summer."
Gotta use it as an air conditioner.
Thinking this, Luid swept his hand through the air. The wind of cold vanished in an instant.
"Then it's my turn, isn't it?"
He hadn't taken a scratch, but even he wasn't so oblivious as to miss that the refreshing breeze had been an attack.
Luid extended his arm, fully intending to subdue the Phoenix — to knock it out with a powerful sleep spell and let it nap for a little while.
"Kyak… kkak!"
—That quantity of mana…… Human. You mean it. You truly mean it.
The Phoenix fixed Luid with hardened eyes. It was the Phoenix, one of the Four Great Divine Beasts. It carried tens of thousands of years of pride.
But in the end, it had no choice. The Phoenix reached its decision.
"…Keuk."
—Please take this and calm your wrath. I am so very sorry.
"?"
The Phoenix plucked one of its own feathers and offered it to Luid, its head bowed in deep formality. The trembling tuft of down looked utterly pitiful.
And so it was.
Tens of thousands of years old, the Phoenix was a beast of wisdom — one who understood that in this world, not everything can be settled on pride alone.