Move-In Imminent
Midnight on the day of the Blow incident, in the third-floor conference room of Whittaker Hall.
Headmaster Ontari was seated there with Mlnébeur and the school's other instructors, along with several officials dispatched from the city Magic Bureau. Gethier Ropert, a mage of the Imperial Palace Magic Bureau, was taking part in the meeting through communication magic.
A general briefing, drawn up from the testimonies of the students who had been present at the duel—Hervena and Yulia among them—had just come to an end when Gethier's voice rose from the palace's communication circle, low and unmistakable.
"To summarize. Blow Deblique is dangerous."
"Sir Gethier, so little has actually been established. To declare him dangerous already seems a little..."
"If you call a danger no danger at all, does the danger oblige you by disappearing?"
The words rang out, sharp. Headmaster Ontari had no choice but to close his mouth.
"Look at the magic that was brought down on that sphere. Highest-grade spells of every attribute, and spatial magic besides! You claim to respect student autonomy, and then you let it slide all the way into license. Shouldn't the aftermath, at the very least, be handled properly?"
"......"
"If His Highness the Second Prince had so much as been at that scene—or if the students had failed to respond and someone had been hurt—it would have been a catastrophe. You were lucky. That is all."
"You are quite right. Even so, there is something I believe I must say."
"Then say it."
"Whether anyone, in the course of that duel, could have predicted that the White Sphere would appear."
At those words, everyone in the chamber nodded. From the birth of magic, and from the moment records of it began to be kept, there was not a single account of this White Sphere—or of anything even resembling it—ever showing itself in the phenomenal world. Gethier, too, had no choice but to concede the point to a degree.
"Very well, Headmaster Ontari. I agree with that much. But the thing has already happened."
"Yes."
"We understand the school's position perfectly well. That is precisely why I stressed it. That Blow Deblique is dangerous."
"Then I would like to ask what sort of response you believe would be best."
"We don't know the extent of the risk, so shouldn't we bring him to the Magic Bureau first and run a proper battery of tests? The methods can be settled at a later meeting."
"......."
In short, he meant to lock Blow away and experiment on him.
The Imperial Palace Magic Bureau. True to an institution that bore the palace in its name and answered directly to the Emperor, the Bureau inspected mages, managed them, and controlled them, and the power it held was immense. Once you were taken in, you were gone over until not a speck of dust remained—and rumor had it that most of the mages who came back were no longer entirely sound of mind. That was why the summons they issued, the Black Card, was an object of terror among mages, a thing to be avoided at any cost.
If Blow Deblique were sent to a laboratory of the Imperial Palace Magic Bureau, it was as plain as flame that they would show no mercy once he was in their hands. A shadow fell, one and all, across the faces of the instructors seated in the room.
"And should the results show that, at the end of the experiments, he poses a threat to the safety of the Empire, then under the laws governing magic..."
Gethier stopped there, but what followed was easy enough to imagine. Silence alone hung in the conference room.
Mlnébeur, who had been listening without a word until then, rose slowly and lifted a hand.
"Mlnébeur Morgan. I would like to offer a word."
Every gaze in the chamber turned to her at once. Through the communication magic, Gethier's voice came immediately.
"Mlnébeur of the Blue Spirit, is it? Have you been well?"
"Yes. Thanks to your concern."
"Speak."
"As I see it, experiments regarding Blow Deblique do appear unavoidable."
At her words several instructors' faces hardened. A stir ran through the chamber, and there were even those who looked at her with open displeasure.
"Now that is a properly mage-like thing to say, Mlnébeur Morgan!"
"However... please allow the experiments to proceed under my direction, here at Capall Municipal Magic School."
"What are you saying? A separate investigative team would have to be formed, would it not?"
Gethier's voice, cordial a moment ago, hardened in an instant. Mlnébeur went on, perfectly calm.
"I have several reasons. The first... I judged it better to keep Blow Deblique in his present surroundings than to place him under severe pressure."
"His present surroundings?"
"Yes. We still don't know what triggers the appearance of that White Sphere. What I'm saying is that if his environment were suddenly changed for something far more oppressive, the sphere might manifest without warning."
"So the present environment ought to be maintained?"
"Better than changing it. Speaking as someone who once belonged to that place, I believe remaining here is preferable to sending him there."
"Go on."
"Second, Capall Municipal Magic School has better experimental facilities than most universities, or than the Capall City Magic Bureau."
"I'll grant you that. I'll also grant that you have real expertise in spirit studies, and that you were once a chief researcher attached to the Magic Bureau."
Mlnébeur narrowed her brow for a moment, then let it smooth, and waited quietly for whatever he would say next.
"But trifles like that aren't what matters, are they? The most important thing is something else entirely."
"Yes. What you want is an account of what happens when the White Sphere appears. Isn't that so?"
"You do know how to hear what's being said. In any case, during the experiments, we'll have to draw the White Sphere out, won't we?"
"That's right. At least once."
"You're not about to give me some pathetic speech about throwing students at it to hold it back, I trust?"
"No. I have something in mind."
"Well then. What do you intend to do? I'd prefer it be reasonable."
The tone suggested that anything short of reasonable might bring the roof down. Mlnébeur, who had been waiting for exactly that, answered with easy composure.
"I will seek the counsel and assistance of Lady Lisleia."
"...What?"
The moment that name left Mlnébeur's mouth, every eye in the chamber went wide, and the murmuring swelled another degree.
Hero of the Empire's unification, and one of the Six Great Imperial Mages appointed in person by the late Emperor Petrus Serdia—Lisleia of the Flowing Water. At her name, even Gethier's voice, which had held its composure all this while, carried a flash of dismay.
"D-do you even know where that person is?"
"I do. I'm her disciple."
A simple, lucid answer. But Gethier's reaction was only natural. Of the Six Great Mages spoken of as empire-class, all but the former Saintess and Deschamps Edfolk had vanished without a trace. Even Whittaker, director of this very Capall Municipal Magic School, had handed full authority over to Headmaster Ontari and disappeared years ago.
When no reply came from Gethier's side for a while, Mlnébeur added, her voice level, as if she were merely supplementing what she had already said.
"Whatever emergency might arise, I believe someone of Lady Lisleia's caliber could answer it well enough."
"........"
"If Lady Lisleia could not answer it... then I don't believe any individual could. Should such a situation occur, you would have to convene every mage."
"That may be so.... But what if Lady Lisleia does not appear?"
"She will come. I'm certain of it."
"...Have you already contacted her, by any chance?"
"Yes. Just before this meeting."
"........."
For a moment, nothing at all came back through the communication magic.
"I'll contact you after the meeting."
Mlnébeur had run hard enough to circle the entire school. Already short of breath, she stopped where she was, braced her hands on her knees, and steadied her breathing while she turned the problem over.
After the meeting, the Imperial Palace Magic Bureau had notified them that it would take a little time to deliberate. The result of that deliberation would probably arrive around tomorrow, and unless something else proved troublesome, they would have no choice but to grant permission. She had staked not only her own certainty, but her master's name.
As she let out a long breath, someone briskly held out a cup of water. She looked up to find Christina, her assistant, standing there with a smile.
"...Assistant Christina?"
"Yes, Professor."
"What is it?"
"I thought I'd run with you."
She swung her arms once, miming a jog. Mlnébeur smiled at her, then nodded.
The next morning, after stopping by Capall Central Academy with Cunsai, Blow was walking toward the Nyx Inn with Jane.
"Things are working out better than I expected."
"You mean the booths?"
"Yeah. A team canceled, so we picked up one more."
"True enough."
Remembering something just then, Jane smiled and asked him.
"By the way, Young Master—when you wrote your name and Skadi's in the staff column, you didn't see the teacher's face, did you?"
"No. I didn't. Why?"
"You're probably easier in your mind for not having seen it."
"That bad?"
Jane only smiled, calling back the face of the woman in charge of the festival. From the moment Cunsai had brought Blow Deblique in, the sight of his clothes had left her unable to shut her mouth—and when the letters of Hetaya were written out, the teacher's pupils had trembled as if they might leap free.
"Even so, our booths aren't in a very good spot."
"A bit of a walk from the main plaza, right? They said the team that canceled moved because a better place opened up."
"Still, our booths are close to each other."
"Right across from one another, weren't they? I'll have to think about the concept."
"The concept?"
"Yeah. There are two of them, so wouldn't it be better if they played off each other?"
"That's true."
Jane nodded quietly, then let out a heavy sigh, as if the worry had caught up with her.
"Still, we'll need people to actually come..."
"Hm? Jane, that's what you're worried about?"
When he asked as though he found it odd, Jane tilted her head.
"A little. It really is far from the main plaza... At a glance, it was the back of a building nobody would bother going to."
"Jane."
"Yes, Young Master."
Blow, wearing a small smile, held up four fingers.
"We've got four mages."
"Oh."
Four mages meant there were tens of thousands of things they could do. Only then reassured, Jane let out a short laugh and added,
"The main plaza's going to be empty."
"Let's make it that way."
"Yes, Young Master."
Just then Blow thought back to the errand he had given Hervena after dinner the night before.
"Hervena will have passed the word to Senior Yulia properly, right?"
"Of course. All she had to do was hand over the donuts and the message."
What could possibly go wrong?
Thinking so, Blow quickened his steps toward the inn.
A little later, when the two of them arrived, the morning trade was in its final stages. Once the cleanup was finished, they all decided to go together and look at the potion shop, the new restaurant, and the house.
"I-I'm so excited..."
Melo's eyes were sparkling as she walked. Blow asked her lightly,
"Melo, what are you most excited about?"
"The... the kitchen!"
"Spoken like a head chef."
"I hope it's... wide... and clean...!"
Hearing her, eyes shining as she looked up at him, Blow couldn't help the way his face stiffened with guilt. They had made good use of the Nyx Inn for a month, and they had cleaned hard, but it was a space that could never, by any stretch, be called comfortable. It had been so cramped that no matter how thoroughly they scrubbed, a few trips back and forth were enough to dirty the floor again. Cooking pressed shoulder to shoulder, peeling potatoes, washing dishes... Charitably speaking, there had been a certain romance to it, a bit of sentiment—but for Melo, who had to stay in that kitchen the whole time, the discomfort must have outweighed any of that.
And yet she had never once complained about it to him or to Jane. Touched by how good she had been about it, Blow stroked her head again and again.
"Bear with it a little longer, Melo. I told them to take special care with the kitchen, so they ought to have done it right."
"Thank you, Young Master."
Melo laughed brightly at his words. She wasn't the only one. Hans and Megan said nothing, but their steps had grown oddly quicker, so they were clearly curious about the space that would be theirs from now on.
When they crossed into the next block, the barbarian Ornn, who had been waiting for Blow, came running at a bound with his subordinates Bahama and Rihendel, and all three bent at the waist.
"You've come, Young Master."
"Boss! You're here!"
"Slayer of Dusk Block! Young Master Blow has arrived!"
They had even set a rhythm to it and were dancing along. Jane's mouth drew into a flat line. Megan broke into a smothered laugh.
Embarrassed in spite of himself, Blow held out a hand to Ornn.
"Ornn! Feels like it's been a good long while!"
"Haha. It feels like even more than that, somehow."
"Today we all came to see how the work is coming along."
"The restaurant and the living quarters upstairs are both finished, and the potion shop only needs the last touches. Where would you like to begin?"
Blow glanced at Melo, who had been fidgeting beside him, then smiled brightly.
"Let's start with the kitchen."