Chapter 36
One elf slave is enough. Drip, drip, drip. A gentle stream of water soaked into the garden soil.
"Franz, what do you think as the Magic Tower Master? About my daughter's magic."
That's right. The garden watering unfolding right before Franz's eyes was actually the princess's magic.
Using mana to defy the laws of the world and manifest a miracle—yes, that qualified as magic. And it was practical for watering the garden. Plus, the kind heart helping the servants. So Franz's overall score: a solid 13 out of 10. Even subtracting the 5-point imperial bonus, it was still an 8.
"Your Majesty, the princess is only ten this year…."
"Eleven."
Franz flinched at the emperor's correction but pressed on, pretending nothing was amiss. "…At eleven, that's plenty impressive talent."
He meant it. Stabilizing mana at ten and starting proper spells at eleven meant she had the makings of a fine mage. The average first spell came around thirteen, after all.
But ascending to grand mage? That was iffier….
As Franz pondered, the princess shuffled over shyly. "Tower Master, how was it…? Was my magic okay…?"
"Your Highness, it was splendid."
"Hehe—I got praised!"
She beamed and skipped around the garden. He'd thought her mature for her age, but she still had that childlike spark.
Excited, she started watering every corner, and the emperor watched with a smile. "Franz, when she comes of age, I plan to send her to the Magic Tower."
"…Pardon?"
The bombshell hit so casually that Franz lagged half a beat in responding. Why drop that like 'let's grab lunch'? Sure, to the emperor it was just job-hunting for his daughter, but to Franz, it was the chairman's kid parachuting in—a massive deal.
Still, as the group's rep, he needed the reasoning. "Why do you say that, Your Majesty…?"
"I just want her happy. She loves magic. The messy politics? That's for me and the boys."
"Understood. We'll be ready whenever."
The Magic Tower wasn't some ragtag bunch, but you couldn't outright refuse the emperor. Besides, she was eight years from adulthood—no need to stress now.
Yeah, better not overthink it. Ignorance is bliss.
Franz chose denial. A bit later, he mentioned it was time to head out. "I see. You're busy, so I won't keep you. But drop by sometime for tea."
The emperor sounded wistful, but Franz felt zero regret. Still, a twinge of pity stirred. How lonely must he be to say that?
Anyway, farewells done. Franz skipped the carriage and teleported straight back—no more back pain, thanks.
Oh right, Arian rides with me next time. His vision swam already.
* * * * *
Back at the tower, Arian showed up like clockwork. "Anything happen at the palace…?"
"Eh, yes and no. Same old, really."
"So they asked you for something."
"…Spot on."
Franz hesitated. Should I tell her?
The heretic purge was top secret. Rumors could make them go deeper underground, botching the plans. But hiding it from his secretary felt off, especially since he'd be away.
Finally, snap—he cast a soundproof spell. Unlikely anyone eavesdropped in his office, but heretics were weird enough to worry.
"Soundproofing…?"
"Yeah. What I'm about to say is confidential. Bail now if you don't wanna hear it."
"I'll listen."
Arian replied without pause, a faint smile on her lips.
"His Majesty wants…."
Franz spilled it: total heretic wipeout, hunt the Seven Great Evils, reward a duchy.
"…Bloodbath incoming."
Arian's face soured after hearing it all. "Yeah. Not easy, honestly."
"You okay, Tower Master?"
"Me? Fine. Hate those heretic bastards anyway."
"Still, don't push too hard. You barely rested after the Demon King."
Her eyes brimmed with worry. She was right. Post-Demon King, he'd run errands for the emperor, then poured everything into fixing this rotten tower. Then a translucent display popped up demanding world-saving, and just when things had smoothed out—heretics.
They say you roll hard young for easy old age, but by that logic, retirement should mean food delivered to his mouth.
Food delivered while sitting still…?
An image flashed: Hera, collared, feeding him by hand. Fitting for a slave.
Am I burned out? He wouldn't normally think that.
Speaking of—how was Hera? Minus the stuffiness, decent personality. Good for a leader, probably thriving.
Great Forest is a trek, though.
He'd helped the elves, but he was human. No point stirring trouble and undermining her. Best avoid it.
No news is good news, then.
…Or so Franz thought. Just days later.
He headed down from his top-floor office to check St. Serpian Cathedral—Justia should be back from the palace by now. At the entrance, an argument: one in a deep hood, the other a robed mage.
He knew the mage—approached. "Roan, what's up?"
"Ah, hello, Tower Master!"
Roan bellowed a 90-degree bow, like a drill sergeant grunt. Franz blinked. He'd only asked clerks for basic courtesy—no boot camp vibes.
Is this what the emperor feels? Awkward as hell.
"So, this person wants you, but won't show ID or remove the hood. I was explaining no entry without."
Franz eyed the hooded figure. Familiar…?
Green eyes gleamed from the shadows. "Hera…?"
"I trusted you'd recognize me."
"Why are you…."
As Franz gaped, Roan's face stiffened. Franz patted his shoulder. "Roan, you handled it right. No fault. Keep it up."
"Th-thank you…."
"Go handle work."
Roan bowed and vanished inside. Just them now.
"Hera, showing up out of nowhere without word—what…."
Franz trailed off, remembering: she'd free the elf slaves, then become his. Her presence meant she was ready.
That fast? Nobles return them voluntarily?
One word from Hera shattered that. "Franz, terribly sorry, but could you help me one more time? The World Tree's acting up. Once this is done, I'll be your slave right away. If one's not enough, I'll bring volunteers. Please…."
Franz's hand rose slowly to his forehead.
One elf slave was burden enough—more? Is she upping my sentence…?