An Invitation from the Imperial University Mage Tower (2)

When I was very young, Father used to tell me ghost stories on hot summer evenings.

Most of them were ridiculous. Yet I could never quite shake the thought that somewhere on this vast continent, even the strangest of his stories might be true.

One in particular stayed with me: a ghost that would be waiting above you when you woke.

How frightening would it be to open your eyes and find one staring down at you? As a child, I spent entire nights awake imagining that very thing.

Now, as I pushed myself upright in bed, I wondered whether one of those old nightmares had come to life.

The elf was lying beside me.

Why are you here…?

She was asleep in her maid's uniform, facing my way, her breathing even and quiet. Her long silver hair lay in a tangled sheet across the bedding.

With her eyes closed and her face so peaceful, she looked almost defenseless.

If she were always like this, she'd be a beautiful woman. If only her personality were different…

She was someone I almost wanted to like.

I frowned, then noticed that my own body felt remarkably light.

Yesterday I'd been so ill with a cold that I could barely move. Perhaps the medicine and the rest Havid insisted on had done their work. At any rate, I felt well enough to return to my duties.

As I moved the covers aside, I glanced at the sleeping elf again.

Has she been here since yesterday?

What if she'd caught my cold?

I placed a cautious hand against her forehead. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Her skin didn't feel feverish.

That was reassuring. Then again, someone who could overpower a dream queen was hardly likely to be defeated by an ordinary cold.

I withdrew my hand.

On the bedside cabinet sat a letter and a piece of Balgeum chocolate.

The seal on the letter looked familiar.

The University Mage Tower?

Why would the Tower send a letter to me?

There was only one way to find out. I broke the seal and unfolded the page.

To Viscount Theorad, head of House Deharem and vassal of Count Pelgaroin…

The address was followed by such an elaborate exchange of courtesies that it seemed the writer wanted me to admire his education.

I skimmed the ornate greetings until I reached the actual matter.

The Imperial University Mage Tower wishes to invite Viscount Theorad as a special guest lecturer. Travel expenses for the warp gate and the lecture fee will be provided. We ask that you give the invitation serious consideration, for the sake of the Tower's academic development and the improvement of the Empire's mages…

I felt as though the air had been squeezed from my lungs.

The University Mage Tower gathered the finest magical scholars in the Empire. And they wanted me to teach them?

I hadn't perfected artificial-rain magic. I'd proposed its direction and built the rough foundation, but the elf had been the one who made it work. Going there to lecture would be like deliberately exposing my own incompetence.

Yet refusing wasn't so simple.

I checked the signature.

Brandal Fredelin, President of the Imperial University Mage Tower.

Brandal Fredelin was said to be one of the Empire's two Grand Wizards, famed for destructive magic.

An invitation signed by someone like that was no casual request. The faculty would be watching me, and every mistake I made would reflect on House Deharem.

I could see far more dangers than benefits.

Still, if I refuse…

“You'd be better off going.”

I flinched at the voice behind me.

The elf was standing by the bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Master, who sent the letter?”

“The president of the University Mage Tower. Brandal Fredelin.”

“Then you certainly ought to go.”

“Certainly?”

She wiped at her mouth as though still half asleep, then nodded.

“He's a wizard. Someone unusual enough to rise to the position of president is probably obsessed with verifying things. Wizards are like that.”

“What do you mean by verifying things?”

“If you refuse, you'll only deepen his suspicions. He'll keep making demands until he's satisfied, and they won't be pleasant or simple.”

That made an awful kind of sense.

How could a man without formal training suddenly produce something as difficult as artificial-rain magic? Of course the Tower would suspect that the achievement wasn't entirely his.

And they would be right.

I had designed its general framework, but the elf standing before me had completed it.

Should I admit that?

No. A confession would only lead to questions about my collaborator. I couldn't reveal the elf's identity to the Tower.

But ignoring the president's invitation could make the whole affair worse.

I sighed.

“Then I suppose I need to begin preparing for the lecture today. I can't afford to make a fool of myself before the Tower's professors.”

I spoke rather pointedly.

The person who had perfected the magic was standing right in front of me. Surely she could understand that I was asking for help.

She did appear to understand. She tapped her chin, brushed her hair behind an ear, adjusted her hairband and even dusted off her sleeves.

But she said nothing useful.

Is she really going to leave me to manage this alone?

I tried again.

“I really must start preparing today.”

“Is that so?”

What a perfectly indifferent reply!

The little smile at the corner of her mouth almost seemed to say, Then ask me properly.

I steadied my breathing. There had to be some other way to gain her cooperation.

“By the way. When I woke up, you were sleeping beside me. Who gave you permission to get into your master's bed?”

The elf blinked.

“Don't you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“You told me not to leave. You wouldn't let go of my hand, so I had to lie down beside you.”

I said that? Yesterday?

I couldn't recall anything of the sort. I'd dreamed about Father, but that was all.

Perhaps she was lying.

“I don't remember it.”

“But you clearly—”

“That's beside the point.”

I cut her off and straightened imperiously.

“Even if I told you not to leave, does that excuse a slave for climbing into her master's bed?”

“…No.”

“Then you were at fault. Am I wrong?”

Her brows twitched. For a moment she looked ready to argue, but then she answered.

“You aren't wrong.”

“Then you must be punished.”

There!

I had my opening. If the role of a cruel master allowed me to order her help as punishment, then she would have to guide me through the magic.

“From today onward, you will help me prepare for the lecture. Even an insolent creature like you should be able to contribute something.”

The elf was silent.

Then she tilted her head as though entirely puzzled.

“I don't understand what you mean. I know nothing about magic.”

That's too much!

She was determined to keep up the pretense.

I couldn't think of another way to press the point. I summoned the character of the cold-blooded, psychopathic master I had been playing and gave her my harshest glare.

“What was that?”

“I don't know what you're talking abou—”

Before she could finish, I seized her and pushed her onto the bed.

She cried out briefly and frowned. I climbed over her and spoke in what I hoped was a terrifying voice.

“You insolent wretch. Apparently kind words aren't enough for you. Do I have to punish you before you'll understand?”

What I actually wanted to say was, Please help me prepare for the lecture.

The elf's eyes were half closed as she gave a shaky reply.

“M-Master… I'm sorry…”

She seemed to recognize the kind of performance I was attempting. Still, it felt odd to have to deliver a reprimand while leaning over her on my own bed.

“You've behaved well recently, but you keep crossing the line. I won't let you pretend you don't understand me.”

“W-what will you do…?”

What would be an appropriately severe threat?

I thought furiously and reached for the buckle of my trousers. It was fortunate I'd slept in them.

“I could punish you until your backside turns red.”

“Master, I hate that…”

“Hmph. What do you mean, you hate it? Aren't you a whore who likes this sort of thing?”

Her feigned sobbing stopped.

So did the deliberate trembling of her shoulders.

Something had gone wrong.

She lowered her gaze. There was moisture in her eyes.

This wasn't an act.

I had seen her pretending too many times not to recognize the difference. The elf was genuinely close to tears.

Why?

Cold sweat broke across my back.

“Did I say something too harsh?”

“…Please get out of the way.”

Her voice was quiet, but the request was unmistakably sincere.

I moved aside at once.

She sat upright on the bed, biting her lower lip. For a moment she looked miserable; then she turned on me with a flash of anger.

Yet when she finally spoke, there was none of her usual aggression. She seemed ashamed, and almost confused by her own feelings.

“Master… Do you really think of me that way?”

What way?

I'd only been trying to speak as the cruel master she always asked me to play. I couldn't understand why those words had hurt her now.

When I failed to answer, she cleared her throat and stood.

“It's nothing…”

She left the room quickly, almost as though she were fleeing.

I stared after her.

Had she disliked my insults? Surely not…

The longer I thought about it, the less I understood.