Same Bed, Different Dreams
A husband finishes work and comes home.
He finds his wife on the bed, drenched in sweat, locked in vigorous "exercise" with a man she's never mentioned. What expression would cross the husband's face at that moment?
Wouldn't it look exactly like Zieghart's right now?
"……"
Zieghart stood frozen, unable to say a word for a long while.
As for me, I did nothing except pull the blanket up over Ardel and her state of undress.
"…I thought of you as no different from a brother of my own blood."
A man of solid, well-honed muscle. Eyes rimmed a furious red, a voice that shook as he spoke.
Guilt came creeping up on me, quiet and unwelcome.
For a mage, keeping one's mind serene was more important than anything else — a fundamental of fundamentals that the Magic Tower had drilled into our ears until they calloused over.
And I had served as the link between the two of them. You could hardly call a promise to "bring them together" completely broken, could you? I'd done my share, in my own way.
If people wanted to curse me as human garbage, so be it. For the moment, I decided to accept this situation with shameless composure.
…Exactly how much more am I supposed to help you? And you want an apology for something I don't even remember doing? Fine — say I did do it. So what? Is Ardel your girlfriend? She isn't, is she.
Guilt and other useless emotions could be felt some other time, so I folded it neatly away into a corner of my mind.
"…Carniel."
Zieghart called my name, his voice lowered like a blade of lead.
"You will explain to me why you are lying upon that bed."
"I'm not really sure myself."
"…You don't know?"
Zieghart's face twisted.
"Are you playing games with me right now?"
"Not particularly."
"Then you expect me to believe that flimsy excuse?"
"I drank the wine Ardel gave me, and when I opened my eyes, I was here."
"A man and a woman drink together… and then share one bed… I see."
Zieghart let out a low, bitter scoff.
"How I despise the self who believed, even for a moment, in the promise I made with you…"
His hand, trembling in fine shivers, moved — reaching for the Holy Sword at his waist.
…Um, excuse me? Weren't you the one who claimed to think of me as a brother?
Just like a romance-fantasy world gone drunk on love.
Here was the so-called icon of justice, the Hero of the age, about to draw his sword on a mage dressed in nothing but his boxers, without so much as a staff or a wand to his name.
Any ordinary mage would be on his knees by now, begging for his life.
But.
Not me.
I gathered my focus and opened my palm.
The Holy Sword flew into my hand in an instant, as though swallowed into a black hole.
Zieghart's fingers clawed at empty air.
"…Th-that's casting — the way demons cast!"
He stared at me, openly stunned.
It was the demons' method of spellcasting, mastered in the middle of my battle with the Demon King. I'd never once shown it to the Hero's party, so his astonishment was only natural.
…You were seriously about to cut me to pieces?
Zieghart von Hellision was the Hero, the male lead of a romance fantasy. I'd fully expected him to come to his senses and apologize — say he'd simply lost himself for a moment when the sword slipped from his grip.
Instead, he trembled head to toe, seething with frustration.
…This bastard. He was genuinely, completely mad with love.
"Carniel!!"
Like a hero summoning his final blow against the Demon King at the absolute brink of despair, Zieghart roared my name. He came charging at me with his fist clenched, blazing with such resolve that I almost felt as if I had become the Demon King.
"…!"
I traced a circle in the air with my fingertip, centered on Zieghart — and he was sealed inside an Air Bubble.
His whole body floated up off the floor.
"Never thought I'd end up using demon-torture magic on a friend of mine…"
"Strip away the magic, Carniel, and what is left of you? Nothing!"
—Thud!
Zieghart tried to shatter the Air Bubble with his bare fist.
"No Holy Sword, no buffs from Sernil — you'll never break it."
—Thud!
"I, Zieghart von Hellision, swear upon my name—"
—Thud!
"by any means necessary, I will surely make you—urk!"
Zieghart thrashed wildly, both hands clutching at his throat.
"If you pass out from the suffocation, I'll let you out."
A soft rustling rose from the bed.
"C-Carniel. What… what is happening right now…?"
Ardel hugged the blanket to her chest, hiding herself beneath it. Eyes rounded wide, lips pressed firmly shut, she waited for my answer.
I scratched my cheek with a finger, deliberating. Carefully, so carefully, I weighed which words to reach for.
But pile caution upon caution as I might, nothing came to me that could untangle this mess into something explainable. I didn't want Ardel to hate me over one careless slip of the tongue — and perhaps because we might genuinely have shared a night of love, meeting her eyes felt just a little embarrassing.
"Zieghart tried to do something terrible to me, and right now you're protecting me from him — that's the situation, isn't it?"
The ugly commotion had begun first thing in the morning. Summons had gone out to the ministers and to the Hero's party.
…How dare he lay hands on my daughter!
Carniel stood before me, both hands sealed fast in the Mana Restraints.
Bound — of all things — by a device of his own making. An artifact that stripped even demons of the ability to cast. Surely even the continent's greatest archmage should have found his magic beyond reach.
And yet.
The arrogance of mages, soaring shamelessly to the very heavens.
That brazen calm, as though flaunting his audacity before me. I despised the sight of it. Mages who behaved as if they alone had seized every scrap of the world's knowledge and wisdom, forever presuming to lecture me — I had never cared for the breed.
But I was a king. Their counsel had bettered the lives of my people. Remembering the late king's teachings, I set my personal distaste aside. For the sake of my people, a king could stomach that much and more.
…But as a father, your conduct is beyond all forgiveness.
Ardel. Of all my daughters, she most resembled my late wife. Whenever I missed my wife, I went to look upon Ardel, and the sight of her face brought me peace and solace.
A chaste flower blooming in my garden. A flower whose warmth belonged to me and me alone.
…And you laid your hands, so carelessly, upon a flower even I never dared to touch.
I was stunned. This was Father, who had never once flown into rage no matter what befell us — and today, he felt suddenly, unmistakably like a stranger.
"Cast Carniel into the dungeon this instant! The trial shall be held this very evening!"
With Father in such a fury, no trial could possibly proceed fairly. I had to stop it. Carniel had always been the one helping me — this time, it was my turn.
"Father, I beg you — retract your command!"
"Ardel. This is no affair for you to meddle in."
"How can it not concern me, when Carniel and I were found in the very same bed—"
"Enough!"
Father's fist clenched, and the veins stood out vivid along the backs of his wrinkled hands.
"Between you and that baseborn commoner, nothing happened — nothing at all!"
"Then why does Carniel wear restraints? Why is a trial to be held at—"
"It is a matter of state."
"Then I require a fuller explanation than—"
"Question me no further!"
Father gestured sharply.
"Knight-Captain! What do you stand there for? The princess was set upon by a scoundrel this very morning — take her to her chambers at once and see that she is calmed!"
The Knight-Captain stepped toward me.
"Do not think of laying a hand on me."
The Knight-Captain faltered and shrank back.
I turned my gaze to Carniel. His face gave away nothing of what he might be thinking — but whenever I looked at him, I remembered how he had always smiled and told me not to worry, each and every time hardship came.
"Father. Do you remember which flower I love best?"
"Is it not the Canavin?"
"No. Since Mother passed away, I have loved the Tulibin best. Do you know why I love the Tulibin?"
…
"Because they resemble Mother's green eyes."
…
"I never told a single soul that I loved the Tulibin. And yet Carniel always brought them to me."
…
"The day I was scolded so harshly in etiquette class, I missed Mother so much that I went alone to her tomb — do you know whom I met there? Carniel was there. He asked me nothing, only said that anyone can make a mistake, that I mustn't grieve so, and he placed a single Tulibin in my hands."
…
"When Mother's brooch broke, Carniel mended it without a word."
…
"On days when I wanted to cry, he stood beside me in silence and stayed there until the tears finally broke free."
…
"He knew I liked my tea a little cooled, and before I could even ask, he always chilled it with his magic."
…
"When I lay gravely ill, Carniel obtained a medicine that no one in the kingdom could find — and I recovered as if by a miracle."
…
"From the smallest trifles to matters of my very life, Carniel has always looked after me."
"And what, precisely, is your point?"
"Carniel has done nothing wrong. I have long wished to give my first experience to Carniel, and though I don't remember it, I consider it a blessing that my wish came true."
"Enough!"
Father's voice thundered through the hall.
—Thud! His fist crashed down upon the armrest of the throne.
"Did I not forbid this talk!"
He expelled a ragged breath. Shaking as though seized by a fit, bloodshot eyes blazing, he rounded on the Knight-Captain.
"Knight-Captain! Did I not command you to take Ardel to her chambers!"
"Your Majesty. But Her Highness the Princess—"
Father tore the sword adorning the throne savagely from its rest.
"All who defy my command shall forfeit their lives upon this spot."
Perhaps it was something about being locked in Fernia's underground dungeon, but an old memory came drifting back — the time I'd been caught stealing bread and milk.
How can not a single person come to visit me?
There wasn't much time left before the trial. Maybe they'd all figured they'd see me there anyway?
Five years preparing for the war against the demons, one year in the Hero's party — six years in all spent together, and not one of them would come? Is my personality really that much of a disaster? I didn't think I was quite that bad. And it would be a lie to say I didn't feel a little hurt about it.
—Pad, pad.
Footsteps drew near from beyond the iron bars. A member of the Hero's party — the alchemist, Chelliana.
"Master. I was worried, so I came to see you."
"Perfect timing — I was just getting thirsty. And you even brought food."
Chelliana was a junior from the Magic Tower, and my disciple from the days right after I'd graduated, when I worked briefly as a part-time lecturer to earn my keep. She'd had no talent for magic. But she showed a clear gift for alchemy, so I steered her down that path — and now she stood as the finest alchemist on the Solios Continent.
"Your foolish disciple has one favor to beg of you. May I speak it?"
"I keep telling you, you can speak freely whenever you like. It's not as if our age gap is all that wide."
Perhaps because I was her senior in the Tower as well as her master, Chelliana was always scrupulously deferential toward me. The Tower's insufferable culture of seniority worship — no matter how many times I lived through it, I never got used to it.
"Master. Please — run away with me."
Chelliana drew a small key from inside her coat.
"You already know what will befall you if you stand trial; I need not tell you. You will lose the magic you have spent a lifetime mastering."
She shook her head.
"I cannot simply stand by and watch that happen. There is beauty woven into your magic, Master. As a disciple who once studied it myself, I cannot allow that magic to simply vanish from this world."
She held the key out to me.
"Carniel. Let us go somewhere no one will ever find us. Kingdoms, Hero's parties, demons — let us forget all the rest of it and simply live. I will watch over your magic for the rest of my life."
I intended to refuse her proposal.
The restraints were no obstacle at all.
The reason I was sitting here waiting so obediently in this cell was an entirely different matter.