This Is What Magic Is
I stared at Delis in silence.
Still, he had at least recognized Saint Khtun's accomplishments, so I was inclined to give him a chance.
But then—
"You insolent little—! What are you waiting for? Apologize this instant! Do you truly wish to be thrashed by His Lordship?!"
Yeah. This bastard had zero social awareness.
What was truly astonishing, though, was that there were people actually agreeing with him.
"You lowborn scum!"
"Y-you—how dare you look at us like that?!"
The criticism was razor-sharp.
That alone was enough to make me angry, but what made me angrier still was that the soldier on gate duty was a comrade who had gone to Hadion with me.
He kept glancing at me, reading my expression under the mages' cutting rebukes—worried, it seemed, that I might actually thrash him the way they were demanding.
So what was I supposed to do?
I should punish someone, right?
[Punish whom? The soldier?]
No?
Why would I punish a comrade?
He had simply carried out Father's orders faithfully.
The ones who needed thrashing here were those mages.
[That's my descendant! Mage or not, in Palaon the family of Palaon comes first—that's what I'm saying!]
Words of pure wisdom.
[But what's your plan? If you handle the mages poorly, there could be some lingering consequences.]
Ah, that?
Don't worry about it.
Being mages makes them a problem?
Then I just make them not mages, don't I?
[What?]
I looked at the mages with a serene smile and opened my mouth.
"It seems many of you are rather offended."
"Hmph. There's no need for Your Lordship to apologize. It's all that ignorant fool's fault."
"Indeed."
How is any of this the soldier's fault?
It's yours.
"In that case, those of you who feel so offended by this incident that you believe the soldier must be thoroughly punished—please gather over here."
The reactions split three ways.
"Hah! You see? You should have listened when we asked nicely!"
"Serves you right, you bastard!"
Those who sniped at the soldier and came to stand behind me.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far…"
"I was displeased, but wasn't he simply following orders?"
Those who felt bad about it but still understood.
And then—
"My lord, forgive me, but this doesn't seem right. I myself was hardly blameless for trying to slip in with the crowd—but to punish a guardsman who was only doing his duty?"
Those who worried about the guard's situation and offered me advice instead.
The one who had just spoken was a young mage who still looked rather boyish.
"Your name, sir?"
"Majenka."
"Sir Majenka, is it. Very well. Please step aside for now."
"Ah…"
Even as he moved, Majenka looked back at the guard with lingering sympathy.
And so the crowd divided.
The radicals, clamoring for the guard's downfall and airing their grievances.
The moderates, who had complaints but not enough to warrant punishment.
And the faction represented by Majenka… the soft-liners.
"Moderates and soft-liners, please gather in one place."
I separated the two groups a good distance apart.
They looked puzzled but followed my instructions all the same.
Once everyone had been sorted—
"All forces! Scramble—!"
"Wh-what!"
"My lord?!"
"Demon worshippers! The demon worshippers are here—!"
Chaos erupted inside the castle walls almost immediately.
Shouts of What?!, Demon worshippers?!, Isn't that Young Master Khtun's voice?!, Move out! and the like rang out, and before long knights and soldiers came pouring through the gates in a flood.
"Young Master!"
"Where are the worshippers?!"
"Those ones! Arrest them all!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Yes, sir!"
The knights and soldiers didn't question my orders for a second.
The mages classified as radicals, however, went deathly pale.
"D-demon worshippers?!"
"What are you talking about?! I-I am of the Blue Magic Tower—!"
"Silence! The fact that you tried so hard to force your way into the castle means you must be hatching some vile scheme! You wicked worshippers—submit to the restraints!"
"No, what the—!"
"Th-this can't be!"
"Oh-ho?! Resistance? Clearly you've got something to hide! An honest mage would have nothing to fear from kneeling!"
If you don't want to be branded a demon worshipper… you'll play nice, won't you?
Ancestor, how about that?
They were mages. And now they're not.
See that, mages?
This is what magic looks like.
In the end, the radicals were bound without a fight.
They hardly had a choice.
Resist and you're treated as a worshipper—so of course you stay quiet.
My reputation seemed to play a part as well.
After all, the one who had battled tens of thousands of demon troops at Hadion—and gone on to face a mythical demon giant—was none other than Saint Khtun.
Viscount Hadion had even yielded the credit for the demon giant to me.
Which meant that, to these people, I was currently the foremost expert on demons!
And if you really thought about it…
…They did get into the castle, didn't they?
Looking back, I felt a little bad for the moderates and soft-liners.
Why?
Because those fellows were currently staying at the village inn.
"Tch. Give in to the loudest voices and order falls apart."
[Did you actually give in to them?]
Of course I did.
They got into the castle faster than anyone, just as they wanted.
From now on, call me Khtun the Genie of the Lamp.
But for some reason—
"Hmm. I understand what you were thinking, but you made rather a large mess of things."
Father seemed to have a headache over it.
Why?
[Five mages were detained this time alone.]
But eight mages weren't detained, right?
I reassured Father.
"Don't worry too much. It'll work out fine."
"Do you have something in mind?"
"It's just a minor misunderstanding. And they're the ones who need this more than we do, aren't they?"
That much was true. They really were the ones who needed it.
Why would mages suddenly show up in our territory?
They all had a purpose.
And what was that purpose?
Cores.
Father had sent people to eavesdrop on the mages staying at the inn, and the result confirmed it—their goal was the Cores.
They had come to get their hands on the large quantity of Cores obtained from Hadion.
Which was rather galling, if I was being honest.
When Hadion was in danger you all pretended not to notice—and now that everything's over, you come running to snatch up the Cores?
Come to think of it, when the south was in chaos from demon activity, did a single mage so much as show their face?
They were all busy buying up Cores from the safety of their towers.
Well… that was irritating, but there wasn't much to be done about it.
"Just say you knew nothing about it, Father. Say your second son overreacted and that you'll reprimand him sternly. That should be enough."
"I don't like it. In a way, this whole affair came about from protecting a member of the Palaon household."
He could be surprisingly rigid about the oddest things.
So what now?
I was turning over a solution that would satisfy both Father and myself when a commotion broke out beyond the door.
Moments later, a soldier came bursting in, gasping for breath.
"Baron! Baron!"
"What is it?!"
"Th-the detained mages have started fighting among themselves!"
"What?"
Father leapt up in alarm, ready to rush out.
Or rather—he would have, if the soldier hadn't continued.
"But, uh… the mages are saying something rather strange."
"…?"
The soldier went on with an awkward expression.
"They claim… they've rooted out a demon worshipper."
"What?"
Father blinked, then looked at me.
"Did you anticipate this?"
"Yes."
[Bullshit.]
Hey now!
First, we went to meet the ringleader of the disturbance—the mage who claimed to have rooted out a demon worshipper.
"Baron, I've brought him."
"Show him in."
"Yes, sir."
Huh?
That bastard?
That punchable face—it was Delis, the 3rd Circle mage of the Blue Magic Tower.
"It is an honor to meet the lord of Palaon. I am Delis, 3rd Circle mage of the Blue Magic Tower. A pleasure to see you again as well, Young Master Khtun."
"Welcome. Have a seat."
"Yes."
For some reason, his face was flushed with excitement—like a child waiting to be praised.
"Something to drink?"
"Ah! In that case, I'd like the green tea gel harvested from Mount Putisan."
"We don't have that."
"Then Shante regional black tea would be fine as well."
"We don't have that either."
"Hmm… might I ask what you do have?"
What is with this guy.
Is he doing this on purpose?
[…I think he's just catastrophically bad at reading a room. Just roll with it. Mages were always socially hopeless even in my day. This one seems especially bad, though.]
Ah.
I see.
That explained the nonsense those mages had been spouting at the castle gate, too.
They've been locked in their labs so long their social instincts flatlined!
Pitiful, really.
And given that most of the radicals were young—mid-twenties—the theory held water.
The moderates and soft-liners, by contrast, tended to be older.
In other words: the difference between those who'd had their heads cracked open before and those who hadn't.
Anyway.
"Just drink whatever's given to you."
"…? Ah! Anything the Baron provides would be an honor."
"How kind of you."
Father magnanimously served him a perfectly ordinary tea.
Once the cups were out—
"So. I hear you've rooted out a demon worshipper."
"Ah, yes! Allow me to explain how it happened…"
Delis launched into his heroic tale with great enthusiasm.
Apparently, when he was first thrown into the dungeon, he had resented me.
"To be honest, at the time I wondered if Young Master Khtun had taken leave of his senses. Calling us demon worshippers? I swear upon my honor that I have never associated with demons of any kind. My family has been devout worshippers of the Goddess of Deep Fortune of the Holy Shade Society for generations. But then…"
"Too long. Get to the point."
"Yes! In any case, a thought suddenly struck me. 'If you think about it, Young Master Khtun is already a hero famed as a Demon Crusher at such a young age… would a hero like that really do something so reckless?'"
This bastard wasn't summarizing at all.
At this point, even Father stopped trying to cut him off.
Anyway.
Having correctly divined my profound intentions, Sir Delis had reasoned as follows:
"I thought—perhaps there really is a worshipper among us. But there was a problem. No matter how brilliant a mind I possessed—having been called a prodigy since childhood…"
Skip.
To cut to the chase, Delis had found a method of his own.
And what was it?
Pretending to be a demon worshipper himself.
Feigning absentmindedness, he had casually muttered things like—
—Where did the leak come from, I wonder?
—just loud enough to be overheard.
Was that even a plan?
A three-year-old wouldn't fall for a scheme that transparent.
What kind of idiot would take that bait?
But.
Apparently there was one.
[I see.]
Indeed.
A mage had quietly approached Delis!
—Are you from the Society as well?
After that, well.
A brief scuffle ensued, and Delis—who threw the first punch—came out on top.
Which brought us to the present situation.
"Well? What do you think of my cool-headed insight?!"
Father and I exchanged a look at Delis's triumphant expression.
Neither of us said a word, but our eyes said everything.
Father was thinking the exact same thing I was.
He might have just framed an innocent man.
…Right?
That aside, he really was a vicious one.
Branding someone a demon worshipper over a single question of "Are you from the Society?"
Still, it was suspicious enough to warrant a look.
"Shall we meet him, then?"
"That would be best. Sir Delis, well done. Take some rest."
"Yes, Baron! And as the youngest son of a devout family, allow me to add one more thing—no one from a proper religious order would ever refer to their own order as 'the Society'!"
"I understand. Now go."
Father dismissed Delis and summoned the suspect.
Before that, I spoke up.
"Father, I have a good method in mind. Will you leave this to me?"
"Hmm. Very well. I'll entrust it to you."
[Do you actually have a good method?]
I don't know if it'll work.
A short while later, the suspect who had been brought to the reception room pleaded through tears.
"Baron, I—I am innocent!"
"Your name?"
"I am Chensher, who studied under Mage Dilmos!"
"Sir Chensher, please calm yourself. If you are truly innocent, I will clear your name. But first, there's something I'll need you to do…"
"I'll do anything!"
I held out a bone imbued with the essence of necromancy to the highly motivated suspect.
"This is…"
"A tool for identifying demon worshippers. It was given to me by Cardinal Michael of the Twelve Hour Church. Anyone who has learned even a little black magic—or come into contact with it—will react to—"
That was as far as I got.
"Ghk—!"
Suspect Chensher bolted from his seat and fled the room.
That worked?
[Hah.]
Even Ancestor was left speechless this time.
Anyway.
Demon worshipper… successfully apprehended!
Everything had gone according to Saint Khtun's plan.