I Don't Want to Work (2)
"We behold the Sun of the Empire."
Oblivious as ever, Amelia dropped to one knee.
"What are you saying, Amelia? I am Inglesia, Luid's cousin—"
"Your command, Your Majesty."
But it wasn't simply that she lacked tact. As a knight, she could not play along with the Emperor's little charade.
"Your Majesty?"
"Move aside. I've seen his face before. Gasp… It's true! It's the Emperor!"
"…"
He hadn't been trying very hard to hide it in the first place. The visit was partly meant as encouragement, after all.
Still, he'd hoped to remain undiscovered at least until he'd had a chance to speak with Luid.
Why are knights so hopelessly inflexible?
Lucius clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Between the black mage affair and everything else, you've earned more praise than any single reward could cover. My magic knight order does nothing but collect their pay, and yet you've accomplished more than all of them combined, Luid. If there is anything you desire, anything at all, simply name it."
This is way too much pressure.
Luid hid behind Amelia.
"Come to think of it, you never even received compensation for ruining my orientation speech. When exactly do you plan on visiting the imperial treasury?"
"I was planning to go in the winter."
"You wound me. You won't even pay me a visit."
"…Because you're busy, Your Majesty."
"If it's you coming, of course I can clear my schedule that day. When a lovely nephew who does nothing but benefit the Empire comes calling, what is a bit of paperwork worth?"
"Luid. Mind your manners in front of His Majesty."
Amelia took Luid's hand and seated him beside her.
"Don't be so stiff, Amelia."
Lucius chided her with a light chuckle.
"We aren't strangers, are we?"
The Emperor was on such good terms with the Windsor family that he would even joke around with them from time to time.
Emperors past had generally been the same way, but Lucius carried the trait to an extreme.
"This is the Imperial Capital, Your Majesty. We must uphold your dignity."
An Emperor could never afford to grow too close with any noble. A minimum distance had to be maintained. And yet, if there existed a single place where he need not watch his step, it was Windsor Castle.
Even Amelia, this stiff and formal, would be far more at ease facing the Emperor back home in the North.
"Now then, what brings you here, Your Majesty? Dropping in unannounced like this puts us in rather a difficult position."
"I've come to put faces to the children who may one day serve as my knights. And to offer encouragement while I'm at it."
Luid would have staked yesterday's leftover baguette that the Emperor's words were a lie.
Lucius met Luid's suspicious gaze and merely curved his lips into a gentle smile.
"So, what have you been up to these days?"
Luid felt as though someone had pinched the inside of his thigh.
He glanced sideways. Amelia was watching him with eyes that were spinning in circles.
She was smiling on the surface, but she was his beloved older sister — he could read her all too well.
Tell him nothing, tell him nothing, tell him nothing, tell him nothing.
…She looked so desperate that Luid decided to cut her some slack. Just this once.
"I sleep."
"So you have no real occupation, then?"
Luid, who had nearly answered yes out of habit, scrambled to think.
What is this ominous feeling?
"No. I'm busy."
"…Busy sleeping?"
"I'm conducting research."
Luid hardened his eyes, trying to lend the claim a bit more credibility.
The Emperor gazed at him as though he were adorable.
"Research by a genius mage, hm? That must be worth quite a lot. What sort of research, may I ask? Consider it pure curiosity — speak freely."
Luid blurted out whatever came to his mouth first.
"Research on lucid dreaming — becoming aware that you're dreaming and moving about freely within the dream."
"Oho, a fascinating subject. Is such magic actually possible?"
"You can do it without using magic at all."
Lucius's eyes went round.
"That's truly possible?"
"Yes. Anyone can do it."
Luid was an expert on sleep, after all. Lucid dreaming was one of his specialties.
"How remarkable. What is the research called?"
"Lucid Dream."
"Haha, the idea behind the research is excellent, but your naming sense is absolutely dreadful. How about 'Luid Dream' instead?"
"…"
Faced with the Emperor's catastrophically bad naming sense, Luid held his silence for a while before finally giving up.
"Anyway. I'm busy."
"If you're conducting research of that magnitude, then naturally you must be. And here I was hoping to ask you for something — but I suppose it can't be helped."
"Yes. I really am busy."
I knew it. Total landmine.
He'd definitely been about to order Luid to do something. Luid relaxed, relieved.
"Um, might we ask what you intended to request of Luid?"
At that moment, Amelia asked seriously.
The reason the Windsors could live in peace within the Empire, free from any check or interference, was the imperial family's indulgence.
Granted, the tips of Windsor's blades were always pointed at the monsters of the North, but the fact remained that they commanded a private army far too powerful for any single household to possess.
That was only possible with the Emperor's sanction — and that sanction rested upon boundless trust in the Ducal House of Windsor. It could exist only so long as the Windsors were believed to be a loyal vassal family.
Which meant, naturally, that the Windsors stood in a position where they were obligated to honor the Emperor. They could not afford to give him even the slightest cause for displeasure.
"Hmm. But the boy seems to dislike it. How could I possibly ask such a thing?"
Lucius grinned slyly.
"That can't be true. Luid would never dislike an order from Your Majesty."
Amelia patted Luid's head with perfect posture.
Luid glared up at her.
She told me not to say anything, and then goes and says that herself. Just you wait.
"Well then, may I make my request?"
Amelia beamed at Luid.
Luid felt the pressure crushing down on him and answered against his will.
"…Yes."
"It's nothing much."
Lucius said it breezily, as if it were an afterthought.
"I'd simply like you to serve as Headmaster of the Academy for a few years."
"Sure… nothing much at all."
Luid stopped mid-sentence, thinking hard. Amelia blinked too.
"???"
The two stared at each other, utterly dumbfounded.
Knock, knock.
Amelia knocked on the door with a dejected expression on her face.
"Luid…?"
Luid, on the other side of the door, said nothing.
Fidgeting, Amelia knocked again.
"I'm sorry… it's because your big sister has no tact."
"…"
"C-can I come in…?"
Amelia turned the doorknob.
Click.
But the door was locked.
He's sulking for real.
Cold sweat trickled down Amelia's face.
Ever since the Emperor's visit, she still hadn't been able to forget the resentful look in Luid's eyes.
"B-but, um, if you hate it, His Majesty said it's fine, so. You could refuse—"
Liar.
A tiny voice drifted through the door. There was no way Amelia could have missed it.
Truthfully, having already agreed to grant the Emperor's request, backing out now was impossible.
Besides, the headmastership of the Academy was an extraordinary honor. …It was simply that it also sounded absurd.
In other words, from the Emperor's perspective, this was practically a reward. The problem was that for Luid, it was anything but.
Amelia bit her nails out of habit.
What do I do? Of all things, it had to be the one thing he hates most.
What Luid hated most in this world was a bothersome chore.
And as far as bothersome chores went, the headmastership was about as bad as it got.
"I mean it, Luid. If you hate it that much, I'll do whatever it takes. So won't you please open this door?"
Amelia pleaded earnestly.
Click. Creak…
The door opened. Amelia let out a breath of relief and stepped inside. Luid lay on the bed with his blanket pulled all the way over his head.
"…What are you going to do about it?"
The voice came from under the blanket.
"We stop the Headmaster from resigning. That's the cause of all this."
Luid poked his head out.
"Can you actually do that?"
"I'll figure something out. I promise."
Honestly, Luid wasn't the least bit convinced.
"You're an idiot, you know."
"…I'm not an idiot."
"You totally are."
Luid burrowed back under the blanket.
"I-I really mean it. I'll stop the Headmaster's resignation somehow."
Amelia stammered hurriedly.
Luid poked his head out once more.
"You're confident? If not, I'll do it. He's not resigning if it kills me."
Luid would rather not lift a finger himself, after all.
Amelia clenched her fists and steeled her resolve.
"I will stop him. I swear it."
"Then you're forgiven."
Luid dove back under the covers. In a word, it was a fierce, silent protest: don't speak to me again until this is fixed.
"I possess none of the qualities a Headmaster requires. Surely you agree, Amelia Windsor."
Amelia had gone straight to the Headmaster's office, and his reaction was far more stubborn than she'd expected, leaving her briefly flustered.
"What brings this on all of a sudden?"
"What I just told you."
"…Is it because of Luid?"
Amelia offered the Headmaster what consolation she could muster.
"If you were going to regret it, you shouldn't have started at all."
"Have you come to rub salt in the wound?"
"…"
Amelia pressed her lips shut. As expected, this wasn't going well at all.
But nothing mattered more than her promise to Luid.
"No matter who served as Headmaster, Luid was never going to remain at the Academy forever. There were plenty of students who rubbed him the wrong way. You can't lay all the blame at your own feet."
"It isn't only that good-for-nothing's doing. Though I'll admit he played no small part—"
Clifford spoke bitterly.
"I've held this thought for a long time. I intended to pass the headmastership to Phoenicia as soon as possible."
"Wait just a moment—!"
Amelia bristled with indignation at his words.
"Then why was the offer of the headmastership sent to Luid?"
"What?"
Clifford froze at this completely unfamiliar piece of news.
"What nonsense is this? The headmastership will pass to Phoenicia."
"No. His Majesty offered the position to Luid."
"…!"
Clifford's pupils dilated. But he quickly recovered, and a wry smile tugged at his lips.
"Well, well. That's the best possible outcome for the Academy. He won't hold the post long anyway, so Phoenicia can accumulate real administrative experience as Vice Headmistress in the meantime. An excellent arrangement all around. His Majesty has played a true masterstroke."
"No, that's not the point—"
Clifford spoke with utter seriousness, though the corners of his mouth kept twitching — unmistakably fighting back laughter.
"Could there be a more perfect rival? Why, your words just now, Amelia, have only hardened my resolve."
Why, this old man—!
Amelia burned with fury.
"You will regret this."
"Regret?"
Clifford gave a careless shrug.
"Who exactly do you imagine will be doing the regretting, child?"
"Excuse me?"
"That good-for-nothing loafer already made me regret everything by abandoning the Academy. So isn't it your turn to regret now? Kahaha!"
"…"
"Now go. Not even if you beat me to death will I rescind my resignation."
Amelia wanted nothing more than to burst into tears.
"…"
Luid quietly replayed the events of the previous night in his mind.
Amelia had come home thoroughly drunk and wailed at him—
Eeek, I'm sorry, Luid! Forgive me!
So it had been a failure. Not that he'd ever believed in her to begin with.
In Luid's experience, Amelia was wonderful at putting in effort and absolutely terrible at everything else.
So Luid decided to deploy his ultimate weapon.
He sat down at his desk at once, spread out a sheet of paper, and began writing a letter.
Mother,
I don't want to work.
— Luid
When the letter was finished, he folded it into quarters and opened the window.
Fweeeeeet.
He whistled.
Before long, a massive eagle came soaring through the sky, parting the wind as it descended.
Luid stroked the eagle's head.
"Long time no see, Jephord."
Jephord was a letter-carrying familiar — more precisely, Irene's familiar.
Luid fastened the letter to the eagle's beak and spoke.
"Deliver this to Mom. As fast as you can."
The majestic eagle gazed at Luid and gave a slow, solemn nod. Then, flexing its talons, it wheeled away into the distance.