Crushed by an Uninvited Calamity - 1

The bomb went off without warning.

Or rather, I questioned whether this even counted as a mere bomb—but sudden it most certainly was.

While I was fretting over what gift might suit the Magic Lord’s approaching birthday, the notice from the Ministry of Palace Affairs blasted through every communication orb at once. Considering that the Ministry of Palace Affairs served as the imperial household’s secretary and mouthpiece, this was, for all practical purposes, an order from the Imperial Family—more precisely, from the Crown Prince.

What the hell?

The problem was that the command felt utterly random, and its intent was impossible to parse. Welfare for dispatched workers? Starting with the Ministry of Palace Affairs, the Ministry of Finance, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?

Well, anything bearing the label “welfare” couldn’t be entirely bad. And since the Ministry of Finance was included, I was covered too. Judged purely on good or bad, the news tilted toward the good side.

But why?

That was the snag—exactly as I’d just thought, the motive remained opaque. In the Kpelleofen Empire, the national creed held that civil servants must be ground down and ground down again for the nation and its people to know peace. That principle had been handed down from the founding Emperor Eimanka the Great himself; no one could deny it.

Even the current Emperor and Crown Prince seemed like reincarnations of Eimanka, flogging themselves as though they were mere spare parts of the Empire. All the more reason the whole business felt wrong.

And yet that same Imperial Family was now crafting a welfare system that would let its underlings breathe? Of its own accord, without a single petition or plea, and without demanding anything in return?

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible. The Imperial Family never struck a losing bargain. Even when they appeared to bestow favors out of pure generosity, they always extracted something of equal value. Ruthless to the bone.

They never imposed labor without reward either—but that very thoroughness only made them harder to trust. The Imperial Family I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had watched and endured was never pure of intent.

Yes. There was an angle. Something I didn’t know yet.

…Yet at this level of generosity, I almost didn’t care if there was an angle.

Two days per three weeks.

Reading the actual terms left my hands trembling with emotion. Applied to my Academy dispatch, it would mean more than ten days of leave per semester at the very least.

Ten whole days? And highest-priority leave, no risk of being bumped? Wasn’t that the absolute best? Every past experience warned that this was a poisoned chalice—but so what? If it was poison, I still needed to hold onto the cup properly.

Simply keeping my mouth shut would lock in ten days of confirmed leave every semester. Surviving from the first semester of second year through the second semester of third year would net me a minimum of forty days.

"Nice."

It was too good. For today at least, I could stop offering my daily prayer for the Crown Prince’s tenfold longevity.

In the end, after much deliberation, I accepted the Magic Lord’s petition. Processing such a trivial request under the Imperial Family’s name left me with a pang of self-disgust, yet the opposite thought was worse: I could not allow something this minor to sour relations with the Magic Lord.

Fine. Look on the bright side. If the system raised the morale of the bureaucracy, it would pay dividends in the long run. Work talent into the ground in too short a span and you cannot keep them for long. Even the Audit Department Chief needed a little oiling if he was to last.

Besides, how often would the Audit Department Chief ever be dispatched again after this Academy business? Two years—only two years of concession would make the system worthwhile. That much I could bear.

A thoroughly beloved husband, isn’t he.

I rubbed the back of my neck and a short laugh escaped. Here was a giant of the Empire whom even Father Emperor dared not treat lightly—an eccentric who ignored political influence and personal connections alike, living as a recluse in the Magic Tower.

Yet the moment that Magic Lord fell in love, she moved with purpose and shrank from no eccentricity for the sake of the one she cherished. You could truly feel the weight and magnitude of the affection surrounding the Audit Department Chief.

At the same time, it worried me. Half-elf or not, long-lived blood still ran in her veins; inevitably the Audit Department Chief would depart first. Remembering that the Magic Lord’s own mother had followed the previous Duke Servette into death almost as soon as he passed, I could not help fearing that today’s love might one day curdle into tomorrow’s poison.

That would be troublesome.

The Magic Lord had upheld the Empire for a hundred years already and would need to uphold it for centuries more. Passing into Enen’s embrace at the natural end of her span was one thing; wasting away and dying young was unacceptable.

Therefore, stuffing the Audit Department Chief with every life-extending elixir imaginable was the path that served the Empire. I did not even ask that he live as long as the Magic Lord—just to a hundred and fifty would be enough.

No—surely the Magic Lord herself had already considered every worry I was entertaining. She might already be working some scheme. In that case, three hundred years rather than a hundred and fifty might not be out of reach.

Three hundred.

A smile rose unbidden. The Empire’s history itself was only three hundred years old, and now the next three hundred would rest on the Audit Department Chief’s shoulders.

Just hearing it made me want to laugh—or rather, to rejoice. If my son, grandson, great-grandson, and great-great-grandson could all enjoy the Audit Department Chief’s loyalty, the Empire’s future would truly be radiant. Of course the thought was pure megalomania…

…Three hundred. Somehow it felt as though it would become reality. The Magic Lord’s love was heavy enough to drag even megalomania into the real world.

"Father Emperor, this is—"

"It is exactly as the Crown Prince sees it."

I had rushed to the office the moment Father Emperor summoned me, and the instant I arrived I was handed a single sheet of paper.

Yet the contents of that sheet were worth far more than a single page.

"The Magic Lord says she is going to the Academy."

Father Emperor spoke in a flat voice, but his expression and posture radiated confusion and melancholy. It was rare for him to display emotion so openly.

I could understand it, though. Anyone who saw that document would react the same way. Of that I was certain.

The Academy.

What on earth was this supposed to mean? The Academy—that Magic Lord, going to the Academy? Had I not been standing before Father Emperor I would have clutched my head and collapsed on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the spot.

I already knew the Magic Tower sent a mage to teach Academy students once a year. The dispatch itself had begun at the Imperial Family’s urging; how could I not know? If the Tower’s finest mages instructed the futures who would one day lead the Empire, it was a blessing for both the Empire and the throne.

But this was different. What the Imperial Family wanted was a teacher for the future, not a monster who would intimidate and terrify the pillars of that future. As things stood, someone who outranked even the Academy’s headmaster was about to show up as a lecturer.

"It seems the Magic Lord has grown deeply attached to her disciple. We shall no doubt see an outstanding mage emerge within the next ten years."

My mouth refused to open, so I kept silent; Father Emperor quietly added the remark himself.

Disciple?

I could not agree. No matter how I turned it over, the Magic Lord’s decision to go to the Academy had nothing to do with any disciple and everything to do with another reason—say, the heir of House Crassius, or the chief of the Audit Department, or the Academy’s own inspector.

"Moreover, if the Magic Lord remains at the Academy, the honored guests from the Three Kingdoms will enjoy an experience without parallel. As host, I find the prospect most pleasing."

"Yes. Truly so, Your Majesty."

Yet hearing Father Emperor’s words, I could only bow my head. If that was how he chose to view it, then that was the correct view.

Once a document had already reached Father Emperor’s hands, the Magic Lord’s dispatch was as good as settled. The Imperial Family could still apply the brakes if it wished, but if the throne itself blocked an action the Magic Lord desired, the only result would be friction with a duke. This was an incomprehensible affair, not one that had to be stopped.

Besides, Father Emperor seemed intent on using the opportunity to place even greater pressure on the Three Kingdoms. If the Magic Lord joined the Audit Department Chief at the Academy, the burden on those three realms would become crushing. Whatever reasons their honored guests had for enrolling, they would not be able to move lightly.

And the Magic Lord’s presence at the Academy was, after all, for the sake of teaching. Even if the title of master was only nominal, a teacher moving for the sake of a disciple was the most natural thing in the world. Should the Three Kingdoms protest, the matter would be easy to smooth over.

…That must be how he is forcing himself to think.

It left me heavy-hearted. Faced with an incident that shattered common sense, Father Emperor was deliberately steering his thoughts toward the positive, toward the happy possibilities.

He was erasing from his mind the aftershocks the Magic Lord’s actions would create, the unrest in political circles, the diplomatic headaches—mentioning only the advantages and the points that could be exploited. He had to; otherwise he could not remain sane.

Is this truly something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one person is meant to endure?

Looking back, Father Emperor’s reign had been more turbulent than any other. From the moment of his accession he had worn the label of the Empire’s first collateral-line emperor; how could it not have been stormy?

The Empire he inherited as a collateral emperor had been rotting with corruption, famine, and a quietly rising theocracy. One of the dukes—the Golden Duke—had taken twelve wives and swollen his in-law network, while border skirmishes with the kingdoms flared with tedious regularity. Just when he thought he had restored the Empire to a proper course, the Great Subjugation War erupted, and the succession dispute dragged on for years afterward.

A nightmare.

After disaster upon disaster, one might have expected a period of quiet—yet these days the Audit Department Chief stood at the eye of every storm, kicking up every kind of ruckus. Even if Father Emperor’s mental strength had hit rock bottom, I could understand it.

"The Magic Lord has never left her post for an extended period before. The Crown Prince should prepare as well."

"Yes, Father Emperor."

A pitiable business.

My ears were ringing.

"Take me too! Take me with youuuuu!"

I wanted to ignore it in moderation, but she was thrashing about so piteously that I could not even look away.

"Having four of us at the Academy is just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too much! You’re leaving only me and Penelia out!"

Worse, her justification was so plausible that I could not bring myself to be cold either.

"It’s too much! It really is!"

"Look, I didn’t know either…"

"Saying you didn’t know doesn’t make it not have happened!"

She had a point…

Faced with that thoroughly logical retort, my mouth closed again. Why did she only manage to say the right thing at moments like this?

"If you’re going to the Academy with Beatrix unnie, then take me and Penelia too!"

Even in the middle of her tantrum she remembered to include the Fourth Department Head; the sight was genuinely touching. You really were friends, weren’t you.

……

Damn it all.

My head was spinning. The Magic Lord going to the Academy as a dispatched instructor—I truly had never imagined that…