The Right Person for the Job?
“You called for me?”
“Sit.”
“I prefer to stand.”
The great Golden Empire, Imperium.
Hwangyeolgong, a royal of noble blood and one of the Swords of the Empire, received a visitor in the audience chamber of the imperial palace.
Silver hair cropped short, and gray eyes with the faintest hint of green.
The thin silver armor, tailored for mobility, only sharpened her air of keen precision, and her beloved blade at her hip — the Ghost Cloud Sword — radiated a chill frost.
“Birang Brenis.”
The Cloud Envoy Duke, Birang Brenis.
One of what was now a dwindled Six Swords of the Empire, and sister to the Cloud Technique Duke, Viron Brenis.
And both siblings stood on the side of Duke Arne.
“Sit. This may take a while.”
“I will hear you standing.”
“It's a good offer for you as well. It's no bribe, so relax and listen.”
“...Yes, my lord.”
Creak.
Only then did Birang lower herself carefully into the seat.
Her posture was that of someone invited not to a banquet of her own empire, but to a feast in enemy territory.
Seeing her like that, Hwangyeolgong gave a hollow laugh and gestured toward the food laid out on the table.
“You won't eat?”
“I do not touch food while on duty.”
“You're not on duty.”
“I am always on duty.”
Birang's eyes met his without the slightest tremor.
I see. Hwangyeolgong nodded in understanding and continued his meal.
Clink. Clink.
A long silence followed.
Neither of them spoke; the only sound was the endless chime of tableware.
Tap.
“...What is it you wish to ask of me?”
“Ask of you. How amusing. The Eight Swords... it's Six now, isn't it?”
The number refuses to sit comfortably, even now.
“The Swords of the Empire owe their loyalty to the Empire and nothing else. In that spirit, this isn't a favor at all — it is simply 'what must be done.'”
“......”
“Of course, you won't obey me at face value. You've followed Arne of your own will for a long time now, haven't you.”
“...The only ones I serve are the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor.”
“Yes. Exactly so.”
Sfft.
Hwangyeolgong drew something from inside his coat.
A rectangular sheet of paper glowing faintly blue.
“Do you know what this is?”
“...The strange paper that fell from the sky. I examined it, but it had no discernible effect.”
“Right. To the likes of 'us,' it's nothing more than ordinary paper.”
Creak...
The door to the audience chamber opened.
A woman with violet hair swept in, her long hair billowing behind her as she bustled about aimlessly.
“...!”
At a single gesture from Hwangyeolgong, she immediately sat down beside him and waited for her next command.
Birang's brow furrowed involuntarily.
So this was the treatment given to the great Empress of the Empire — the object of terror said to have reached the very pinnacle of demon magic.
Just as Lady Arne said. Hwangyeolgong is a man with black depths.
Hwangyeolgong passed the paper to Karia.
“There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding here.”
“...I don't know what you mean, my lord.”
“Karia's treatment is being pursued with the full technological might of the Empire. Moreover, her talent and knowledge are being put toward a more 'proper' direction.”
“I'm well aware.”
“Yes, yes. Anyway — watch closely.”
Karia fiddled with the paper for a moment, then glanced sideways at Hwangyeolgong. When he nodded, the violet mana she'd been holding back surged forth, projecting the letter's structure into the empty air.
FWOOSH!
In an instant, violet spears filled the interior of the audience chamber.
Birang shot to her feet in alarm.
“This is...”
“Stunning, isn't it? A 'warrior' who wields spear and hammer, casting magic like this. And what's more — this is all the magic contained within a single sheet of paper.”
There was another spell linked to this paper.
And countless spells connected to, compatible with, and assisting that spell besides.
To display all of it, a single audience chamber would hardly suffice.
“Is this... the work of one called Lily?”
“It is. Lily Elbrit. I wonder what our person of interest is up to this time.”
“I believe I understand why you've summoned me, then.”
CRACKLE!
The mass of spells before Birang dispersed, leaving a single spear hovering in place.
A question.
“...Lily's first 'broad... cast'? What is this?”
“Think of it as a spell used by the otherworlders. Yes — you can consider it a transmission spell.”
“A transmission spell.”
Then that would mean...
“If broadcasting is a transmission spell, then her first broadcast would be the day she first cast it.”
“Correct.”
“The date would be... ah, it's right there.”
Karia had already formed another spear and posted the answer.
He entered the date.
The second question was...
.
.
.
─Congratulations. You have answered every question correctly.
Ding-a-ling!
With a cheerful chime, the blue letter transformed into pristine white paper.
Somehow, she had a feeling that if she used this, she'd be transported somewhere.
“I hear they're building quite a large structure within the Ronhadia territory Lily took for herself. An academy, was it?”
Nod, nod.
Karia bobbed her head vigorously.
“...So that building and this paper are connected, then.”
“They are. I trust you understand what you must do?”
She gripped the paper.
Doing 'what must be done' doesn't sit well with me, admittedly.
But this person, Lily... I was curious about her anyway.
And with this chance, she would finally get a look at her skill for herself.
“...I accept the mission.”
Day three of the entrance exam.
I sat in my office, half-slumped back in my chair, working through an endless stack of reports.
Something's wrong. I'm pretty sure I decided not to work.
“Why is my workload growing?”
Managing the dimensional space, managing Rasty and Pharaoh who'd be professors, managing classes, managing the academy, vetting every single accepted applicant one by one...
“Ah.”
I flopped back down into the chair.
For some reason, it all felt even more tedious now.
This kind of work would be perfect for Besk, but unfortunately, managing a dimension or vetting the user roster was beyond his capabilities.
Besk can't see the system.
The invitations I'd scattered could be seen by anyone with a certain level of mana, but I'd set a trigger so that only 'users' could actually access them — to keep the residents of this world from being swept up into it.
...Well, anyone skilled enough wouldn't be a problem, but this was no ordinary academy, so it couldn't be helped.
Knock knock knock.
“Come in.”
The office door opened, and Besk stepped in.
He looked pretty worn out himself.
Ever since the academy went up, the number of people flooding into Elbrit had grown, hadn't it.
Besk had declared he'd embrace them all and turn the place into a proper tourist city, and since then he'd been working nearly every day without rest.
Truthfully, the reason I couldn't hand him any academy-related work was that he already had far too much on his plate.
“...Are we short-handed?”
“Yes.”
“We're short?”
“We are. There is far too much to manage.”
“Management, huh... Right, we could use more people.”
Minor matters within the territory were handled by the people beneath Besk.
But every important task — anything requiring an actual decision — fell to Besk alone.
The problem was that the important tasks were far more numerous than anyone had imagined.
“Perhaps you should grant them additional titles and elevate their standing, to distribute the workload—”
“Can you trust them?”
“...I trust my people.”
“You mean the ones I don't know.”
“That's correct.”
Hmm...
What to do.
Honestly, I'd handed Besk full authority over the territory's operations, but I knew better.
Hand out titles and power to people you couldn't vet properly, and the whole thing would fester and rot from the inside. I'd watched it happen more than once — lived through it, too — so I couldn't just blithely say yes.
“...The Primordial Island's going to be busy for a while too. A guild? Hmm, that's a bit iffy.”
“......”
“Hm... ah! Let's use that.”
“?”
As it happened, there was someone perfectly suited to this job.
“Why me?”
“Because it's what you're best at.”
I barged uninvited into Pharaoh's chambers while he was resting.
Pharaoh, who had been meticulously polishing the golden mask I'd returned to him, shook his head with a firm, displeased motion.
“...This is no desert. There is no emperor. I would not even be ruling over anyone? You want me to do paperwork?”
“Exactly.”
“I refuse.”
KUWOOOM!
Masked, Pharaoh glared at me.
“What exactly do you take an emperor for? You would reduce a great emperor to a mere 'errand-runner'?”
“If the work goes well, I'll carve you out a territory of your own.”
“I don't need it. I want a desert.”
“I'll even officially recognize it as a desert.”
“Not some artificial desert like that!!”
FWOOSH!! A sandstorm burst forth and slammed into Besk behind me.
Besk dove behind my back, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
Dude, what are you doing.
“Th-this person is... who, exactly?”
“A business partner I'll be working with.”
“Partner my ass. A slave, more like.”
“Why do you hate it so much?”
“Is it not obvious? I have no need for some artificially manufactured 'desert.'”
“Huh?”
That definitely wasn't the case before.
“Then who, pray tell, was the man who declared 'I shall turn all the world into desert! Bow before the will of the great Emperor!!!' and converted an entire forested kingdom into sand?”
“...Enough.”
“And who, when asked whether he liked the desert I had made for him, answered 'Indeed I do!'”
“......Enough of this! Stop it! Why do you keep dredging up the past!”
At the mention of his embarrassing history, Pharaoh turned his head away.
So his tastes have changed. That throws a wrench in my plan.
“Come on, don't be like that. Do some work. It's been thousands of years since you got out.”
“Teaching these whelps is enough. I have no interest in playing pretend-ruler over some fake kingdom.”
Pharaoh turned his back on me completely.
What to do.
Frankly, forcing him into compliance by brute strength would've been trivial.
But for some reason, I didn't want to do that.
At the very least, I wanted to be as considerate of him as he'd been considerate of me in helping me.
Just then, Besk, still cowering behind me, poked his face out.
“Th-then... how about a desert to conquer...?”
“Conquer?”
“A conquest?”
“Yes. As it happens, there's a small desert near the Ronh... the Elbrit territory. It belongs to no one, and only a handful of tribespeople live there, so there's virtually no risk of war.”
“Oh.”
In that case... that might actually work.
The tribespeople could simply be won over.
“Well, Pharaoh? What do you say?”
“...To think you'd try to sway me with something so meager.”
Grrrk...!
Pharaoh's two eyes locked onto mine.
“So you're saying you won't do it?”
“.....I never said I wouldn't.”