Chapter 84
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: The Mage of the Imperial Palace (6)
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In the stifling imperial palace, the only thing that truly caught my eye was probably the bed.
It couldn't quite match the heavenly bed in Princess Celestina's room, but it could give my bed back in Linea Hall a good run for its money.
The moment my back touched it, this perfect softness enveloped each vertebra.
Two and a half Michelin stars, thud thud thud.
I wanted to stay in deep sleep like this for 24 hours straight.
"Lunaris, are you awake?"
"...?"
When I opened my eyes, things were unfolding strangely.
I'd clearly been sleeping in bed, yet somehow I'd been plopped into a chair and was being manhandled by the imperial maids.
Apparently, while I slept, they'd carried me over like so much luggage.
"You can sleep a bit more. We still need a little time to finish dressing you."
How was I supposed to sleep while they groped me mercilessly?
"Could you lift your head a little?"
"..."
"And your arms too, please."
...You said I could sleep more! Such demanding folks.
The imperial maids were far more aggressive than those at Linea Hall.
Their unyielding kneading was professional in the nicest terms, inhuman in the worst.
What to call it... expressionless, taciturn, like machines.
Like dolls moving solely to doll me up.
Anyway, thanks to them, I became a plaything(?) in their doll game without putting up a fight.
"Yaaawn-"
Still, their touch was gentle rather than rough, so a yawn slipped out unbidden.
Hmm... Linea Hall's maid brigade was pro in their own right, but... imperial maids really live up to the name... making me all languid and dopey...
At that moment, the waiting room door opened, and familiar faces stepped inside.
"My dear! Did you have sweet dreams last night?"
Grandma Eleanor was buzzing with energy unbelievable for morning.
Her counterpart beside her, though...
"Puheuh... I'm dying here."
Dean Raymond looked like death warmed over.
Dark circles hollowed under his eyes, drooping all the way to his jawline.
"Grandma, where'd you disappear to yesterday?"
"Hm? Oh, I met someone important for a bit."
She'd wanted to stick by my side but couldn't turn down the summons from someone impossible to refuse, Grandma Eleanor said in a voice thick with regret.
Fair enough. It was rare for her to descend from the Mage Tower. No way the palace crew left her alone.
I shifted my gaze sideways, peeking at the dean in the mirror.
"I can tell exactly what Dean did yesterday just by looking."
"...That obvious?"
"Feels like I can still smell the booze."
"N-No way! I cast Cleansing magic like five times!"
Dean Raymond leaped to his feet.
"No, not that it actually smells... it's your face. Your face."
Eyes so sunken, I half-thought some curse had turned him undead.
"Urgh... Magic can't fix this part."
Dean Raymond collapsed into the chair beside me with a dying groan.
Soon, other maids swarmed him, powdering his face—especially around the eyes.
"Well, today's star is Lunaris, not me. As long as I don't embarrass myself too badly, it'll do."
It didn't take long to resurrect the zombie into something human-ish.
"If preparations are complete, it's time to move."
A short while later, a chamberlain entered the waiting room and cleared his throat with a dignified ahem.
"Dear, no need to tense up. Just be your usual self."
"Lunaris will handle it fine on her own. Just please, no incidents. Even if something rubs you wrong, hold back this once. Got it?"
Grandma and the dean offered their respective cheers and desperate pleas(?), then exited the waiting room ahead of me.
"Congratulations on your Archmage inauguration, Lunaris Evermoon."
"It was an honor to dress the youngest Archmage."
I rose from my seat, waving off the maids' send-off.
This accursed Archmage inauguration—now the real thing begins.
Hurry up and end so I can crash back at the dorm and catch up on all that lost sleep.
"Lunaris Evermoon, enter!"
The vast audience chamber.
A red carpet stretched out endlessly before my eyes.
Flanking both sides stood nobles in splendid finery and mages draped in robes, lined up in rows.
Nobles dressing to impress was routine, but the mages had actually bathed properly for today.
Grandma Eleanor must've given them an earful.
Man... it's long.
Suppressing my annoyance, I trudged forward step by step.
With every footfall, countless gazes stabbed into me.
The texture of the stares differed from yesterday.
Maybe because I'd demolished the crystal orb while dropping a subtle warning—now awe and tension mingled in the eyes fixed on me.
After what felt like forever, I reached the carpet's end.
Atop the tallest dais, someone lounged on the golden throne.
First impression: pallid.
A face so deathly white he could've keeled over any second.
Far too young for His Majesty the Emperor.
A prince, but which one?
Academy's Tenacious Mage was an academy tale that all but ignored imperial power plays.
Other royals besides Princess Celestina barely showed up at all.
Not even names, let alone faces—says it all.
At best, the Second Prince got a rare mention in the Miriel senior arc.
Whatever, not my problem.
More pressing: why was a corpse parked on that throne?
Squinting sharpened the sensation.
The prince's body lacked a mana vessel.
No organ every human in this world innately possessed.
Like staring at someone from a magic-less world—a modern human yanked from Earth.
"Must be hard to even breathe."
The words slipped out softly without thinking.
This world's air brimmed with dissolved mana.
Without the artifacts festooned on him or Grandma Eleanor's nearby care, he'd be puking blood and collapsing on the spot.
"Welcome, Lunaris Evermoon."
As I mulled that, the throne's occupant parted his lips in a faint smile.
"His Majesty's health being poor, I, the First Prince, must stand in for him today."
Aha. So that's the First Prince.
"...An honor, Your Highness."
I bowed in perfect etiquette.
Good call taking that Tuesday elective on protocol at Elterion Academy.
Sure, I slept through lectures, but I'd memorized the textbook cold.
"Then let us commence the Archmage inauguration at once."
At the prince's decree, the attending chamberlain stepped forward.
He unfurled a hefty scroll from his robes and cleared his throat.
"Ahem! An Archmage is, before a pinnacle of magical attainment, a guardian of the empire, possessing dignity befitting and..."
Hold up. He wasn't seriously planning to read the whole thing?
"...a spirit of sacrifice in service to..."
The chamberlain's dull, pompous monologue was gearing up.
"Enough."
The First Prince raised a hand out of nowhere.
"Skip the formalities. It'll save the speaker's throat and spare the audience boredom."
"But Your Highness, procedure demands..."
"You'll manage it splendidly, I'm sure."
Whispers rippled from the nobles behind me.
Weak constitution as expected, won't last much longer, that sort.
Murmurs teetering on the edge of lèse-majesté traded in hushed tones.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
I appreciated him rushing things along, though.
Yeah, gotta love that no-nonsense vibe.
In the end, the chamberlain rolled up the scroll and withdrew.
The First Prince flashed a grin and signaled the knights.
Two knights promptly hauled a long, chain-wrapped box before me.
Expected it heavy, but it thumped lightly on the floor.
"The first Belhart slew the witch bent on world destruction and founded our empire atop her ruins, for our descendants unto eternity."
The chamberlain launched into solemn explanation.
"The witch fell to the blade of justice! Yet her abomination brimmed with such unholy power, it could not be destroyed—only sealed."
His finger jabbed at the box before me.
"Within lies the witch's legacy! The Innocent Hunger, Arke."
Runes etched on the box screamed powerful seal.
Even so, an ominous, viscous aura seeped from the tiniest cracks.
But... why didn't this aura feel purely repulsive?
Strangely, it wasn't unfamiliar.
"The imperial Archmage inauguration is thus: the candidate sates the abomination's hunger with their own mana, quelling its rampage, then reinforces the seal."
The chamberlain's spiel dragged on anew.
"Through this rite, the aspirant learns mastery over their power and the virtue of sacrifice..."
So tedious.
Empire loyalty spiel, got it.
Yawn incoming.
"Yaaawn-"
So I let it fly.
Holding back isn't my style.
Silence crashed down abruptly.
A few horrified stares prickled my skin, but whatever.
"Anyway... so I just open the box?"
The First Prince gave a wry smile and nodded.
"Begin."
At once, Grandma Eleanor reached out from nearby.
A translucent barrier rounded the prince protectively.
-Clank, thud.
The knights unbound the chains and cracked open the box.
-Hiiiiss!
Red smoke billowed up.
Squeals erupted here and there, but Dean Raymond and white-robed Imperial Mage Corps mages swiftly raised barriers, containing the haze.
I ignored it all and plunged my hand inside.
Something long, swathed in black cloth, met my grip.
Unwrapping revealed a grotesquely twisted dead branch.
Like a withered mummy's arm.
Rude to say, but... what terrible design sense.
The instant I gripped the staff without a second thought.
"...?"
A roar like a dam shattering thundered inside me.
"?!??!"
Suddenly, a torrent of mana—far beyond control—surged from me into the staff.