The Boss's Son's Mess: Cleanup Duty for the Staff
Hanson Knight was once again stuck handling the aftermath of Bernard's blunder.
"This isn't the best place for a proper conversation, Mage. And esteemed knights. Why don't you join us at the castle?"
At first, Ian was about to turn down Hanson Knight's invitation. With the guilt weighing on him, it felt awkward to eagerly accept an offer from a knight he'd just met. And it was a shame to cut short the bath he'd fussed so much over...
"I'm not really..."
"Pardon?"
As Ian hinted at refusal, not only Hanson Knight but Elder and Lucy shot him puzzled looks.
"Uh, mage friend. Don't you think it's about time to drop the act...?"
"Yeah, Ian. The mage-calling is over."
"...? What are you talking about?"
Ian realized it then. They thought he was still playing the grumpy mage role. Elder couldn't quite grasp it, but Lucy, who had some experience traveling with him, quickly caught on to what he was thinking.
She whispered, "That noble performed the mage-calling. You responded to it."
"Right?"
"Responding to a mage-calling means accepting the noble's invitation."
Ian nodded. He could see why Hanson Knight had found it odd. It looked suspicious to green-light a noble's invitation only to back out now.
Damn...
Mages have so much hassle.
Ian thought as he climbed out of the bathwater.
"Then have a safe trip."
"Aren't you coming, Elder?"
The knights and Elder showed no sign of budging. Elder chuckled heartily.
"We already said no. Once refused, it's easy to refuse twice."
Hanson Knight gave a wry smile at Elder's quip. It was a bit disappointing that the knights weren't coming along, but it wasn't a big deal. What mattered was the mage, not the knights.
"I'll... stay here too."
Lucy chose the inn as well. She seemed wary of her presence becoming known to the lord.
"We'll keep your little brother safe."
Lucy's cheeks flushed slightly at Elder's words. Ian waved half-heartedly and followed Hanson Knight to the castle.
Upon arrival, Ian was escorted straight to Baron Kalts's audience chamber.
"Thank you for accepting my invitation, Mage."
Baron Kalts betrayed a flicker of surprise at Ian's appearance. The mage was younger than expected and far more composed. He'd imagined a wild, eccentric brute who commanded drakes, but instead, a neatly groomed young man appeared—quite the novelty.
In truth, most summoning mages matched the baron's expectations. The mystery they attuned to was that of the wild and the fierce life thriving within it. They naturally lived close to nature, and prolonged exposure eroded civilized appearances. Picture a shaggy, bearded caveman.
"No trouble at all."
It was late, and after the day's ordeals, Ian was exhausted. He brushed off the baron's greeting curtly. For a mere mage apprentice, it bordered on insolence worthy of execution, but the baron took it in stride.
Hah, look at that confident, arrogant demeanor! A truly exceptional mage!
"I heard you were staying at the inn, so I wanted to offer you better lodgings."
"I appreciate the kindness, but there's one thing missing."
"Missing?"
Ian grinned.
"I had to cut my bath short back at the inn, so I'm feeling a bit grimy. Could you prepare some hot bathwater?"
Baron Kalts didn't quite grasp why Ian insisted on a hot soak, but he let it slide. Mages have their quirks.
As expected of one who commands drakes.
The baron ordered servants to prepare the bath and assigned Ian quarters. While Ian washed up, he received Hanson Knight's report.
"So, how was the atmosphere between the mage and the holy knights?"
"It wasn't outright dangerous, but... I think bringing the mage was the right call."
Hanson Knight summarized the encounter. He spared no detail on Bernard's pathetic blunder, down to the last word. After all, only the boss could discipline the boss's son.
"Sigh... I told him not to act so recklessly."
Baron Kalts endured the part about Bernard botching the mage-calling somehow. Truth be told, he wasn't well-versed in it either. He wasn't prominent enough to warrant inviting mages often. Sure, mages were gods of war, but that applied to massive battlefields with hundreds clashing—not for a baron with four knights and a few dozen soldiers. But crying in terror at a mage's spell? That was unforgivable.
"It's my failure in education..."
"No, my lord. It's my fault for not properly advising the young lord."
Baron Kalts shook his head at Hanson Knight's words.
"How could I blame you, Hanson Knight? You worked hard today. Take tomorrow off and rest."
The reward for babysitting the boss's son on a business trip? A paid day off. Hearing "Hanson, don't come in tomorrow" from the boss himself, Hanson Knight fought to suppress a grin.
Aaah, boss. But I love coming to work~
Baron Kalts shooed away his transparently thrilled knight and sank into thought alone.
Bernard, the future lord of River Bill. To the seasoned baron's eyes, the heir had far too many shortcomings. He chalked it up to youth for now... but worried the folly might persist into adulthood.
The baron sighed inwardly. Is there anything more defiant of one's will than one's own child?
After a soothing hot bath, Ian slept like a log and woke to the sun high in the sky. No one came to rouse him—most folks avoided tangling with mages.
Stretching lazily, Ian wandered the spacious castle grounds.
This is a castle?
Yawning widely, he toured the place. River Bill Castle was small and unimpressive—a stone wall to deter climbers, nothing more. Even a hundred soldiers could overrun it easily.
But a castle was still a castle, no matter how modest. It could repel bandit rabble with ease, so River Bill's folk trusted their lord's keep.
"Mage!"
Someone called out. It was young lord Bernard. His eyes were puffy from yesterday's crying, and his gaze on Ian felt awkward—still laced with fear of magic.
"Did you sleep well?"
"...Yes. I'm glad you rested well too."
Bernard mustered a decent show of decorum. Young as he was, he was still a young lord. Honestly, a step above Lucy...
"I showed my disgrace yesterday. I apologize for my rudeness to you."
Bernard blushed, owning up to his mistake. Ian was mildly surprised. He'd expected noble stiffness, but the kid knew how to bend first.
Ian recalled Baron Kalts from yesterday. A decent fellow too. Looked like the baron raised him well. Even mages couldn't just throw tantrums in front of politeness—that'd make them lunatics.
Ian smiled. "Apology? Nonsense. If anything, I'm sorry for showing excessive magic."
Bernard's face lit up at Ian's humility. The grumpy, arrogant mage bending first? What a mood booster. The young lord had a simple side.
"It was my first time seeing magic like yours. Far more impressive than I imagined."
"...Is that so?"
Ian tilted his head, puzzled. He hadn't shown anything spectacular. Level 3 summoning or Eredis's pyrokinesis would knock him out.
"If a talent like you stayed in River Bill, it'd be a huge boon."
Bernard smoothly pitched residency. Mages getting scouted by nobles was commonplace now—Ian would have to get used to it.
"My cousin's daughter turns twenty this year. She's a refined beauty. If you're interested, I could arrange a betrothal..."
"I'll pass."
Ian politely declined. These offhand proposals never got easier, no matter how many times. Lucy, Bernard—everyone lunged for marriage to tie him down.
"Think it over... Ah, you haven't eaten yet? Join me."
"You too, young lord?"
"I slept in late myself."
"..."
Nobles could afford to rise late. Baron Kalts had duties as lord, but Bernard truly had none. If anything, "learning lordship" by causing trouble?
Bernard led Ian to the dining hall. The cook served familiar breakfast-lunch fare with practiced ease.
"Dig in!"
Ian eyed the spread: well-roasted fish, onion-scented soup, soft white bread... Definitely finer than peasant grub.
But...
"Delicious, right? Our cook's a master!"
"This humble servant gave it his all."
The cook grinned; Ian returned an awkward smile. It fell 2% short of satisfying his palate.
Nobles, huh. Shouldn't it be fancy gourmet?
Fresh ingredients made it tasty, not masterful skill. Grilling fish, onion soup, white bread—what techniques were needed? To Ian, recalling modern cuisine, medieval fare felt crude.
Bake everything! Minimal spices! Salt as seasoning! And this was "noble" food peasants couldn't touch.
If only I'd reincarnated in a wuxia world...
Even in medieval times, wuxia heroes feasted on lavish ancient Chinese dishes. Medieval Western barbarians.
Ian glumly sipped his wine. White bread and wine—the only medieval drugs allowed...
Reality crashing down, he finished and sought Baron Kalts. No real business—just chit-chat.
As an invited guest via mage-calling, and the baron as River Bill's lord, it fit.
"So, Mage, what do you think of River Bill?"
"A fine place."
"I have a niece turning twenty this year..."
"No marriage plans."
After the medieval greeting (aka routine proposal), they bantered idly.
"Eredis the Flame Mage's disciple?"
"Yes."
"I've heard of Dravald's rising star."
With no demands on each other, talk flowed enjoyably and informatively. The baron gleaned minor magical lore; Ian got imperial news.
"Your master likely headed south."
"To the magic academy."
The baron looked surprised—he hadn't known. He'd assumed south for other reasons.
"I figured Paragar Duchy or Roxlan Duchy."
"Why?"
Ian mirrored the surprise. The baron explained calmly.
"Tensions between the dukes are rising."
"Tensions...?"
"Paragar Duke seems poised to target Roxlan."
Ian got it instantly. War. In this medieval fantasy world, big and small conflicts never ceased—from kingdom clashes to noble feuds.
Kingdom wars were rare; true kings were scarce. Nobles warred endlessly to sort hierarchies, the strongest claiming the crown.
Paragar and Roxlan Dukes—both among the Empire's Five Great Nobles, fellow imperial dukes. But dukes bowed to no empire.
"Starting a war outright would draw the Emperor's ire."
"True. But Paragar Duke must have his reasons."
Details were unclear, but war loomed. Demand for war mages would skyrocket.
"Heading south yourself?"
"No, east."
The baron found it odd a mage skipped battlefields but rationalized: not all mages loved war.
"Seeking mysteries, then."
"Yes. I'm still learning."
The baron nodded and summoned the steward.
"Steward. The item."
"Yes, my lord."
Soon, the elderly steward brought a ornate wooden box. Opening it revealed a staff like a crozier.
"What's this?"
Ian asked; the baron smiled.
"A gift for you."
Ian took the proffered staff. Leaning on it, he looked even more the mage.
"Used by some aerokinesis master. Called Windstep, they said."
Ian gripped it tight. He felt no surge of mana—just like acquiring a mage cosplay prop.
Staves were just walking aids. No different for mages.
"My thanks for teaching my son the mage-calling."
More a bribe to behave in River Bill, but worthless to the baron anyway. A chance to curry favor.
Ian didn't know its true value, but a gift cheered him.
"Thank you, Baron. I'll treasure it in your honor."
"Good to hear."
The baron grinned. If Mage Ian rose to fame, generous Baron Kalts's name would spread too—drawing merchants and knights aplenty!
They shook hands, both satisfied with the gift exchange.