Incompetent but Special Because You Are (3)
I jolted awake.
My eyes opened, closed, then opened again.
“…What?”
Something was wrong. I lifted my head in a hurry and wiped the drool from my mouth with my wrist.
“Huh…?”
Sunlight poured across the desk, bright enough to feel hot.
Don't tell me…
A terrible premonition crept over me. In my experience, such feelings were usually right.
I looked at the wall clock.
Two in the afternoon.
“Are you kidding me…?”
I clutched my tangled hair and let out a strangled cry.
After two frantic days working on my report and a nearly sleepless final night, I'd briefly stirred around dawn, only to fall asleep again. Now, when I finally woke properly, the imperial auditor was almost due.
I'm finished.
Not merely in trouble. Finished.
I hadn't even completed a proper report to present to the imperial family. What good would waking up now do?
“You idiot!”
I struck my forehead with the heel of my palm. Unsurprisingly, that didn't improve the situation.
At last I sank over the desk, resting my arms upon it.
What am I going to tell the auditor?
I'd spent two days writing because I knew there was no time to spare. How could I explain that I hadn't finished because I let myself fall asleep on the final day?
Naturally the auditor would ask to see how far my artificial-rain magic had progressed. I'd hand over my error-riddled spell diagram and become a laughingstock before the palace magicians.
House Deharem will be humiliated because of me.
That bothered me more than anything.
Could Princess Benelia have planned this all along?
Three years ago I had refused further imperial support and continued the project privately. Why would she suddenly demand results from a research effort she knew was incomplete?
Perhaps she didn't care about embarrassing me at all.
Perhaps the real target was the man who had recommended me—Count Leonberg of Pelgaroin.
The imperial household had been pursuing greater centralized power. A count whose military strength rivaled that of a small country could hardly be convenient for such ambitions.
“So this is the great talent Count Leonberg recommended? A man without the ability to back up his boasts? It seems His Excellency has poor judgment.”
I could almost hear the princess saying it.
Is she using me to strike at the Count?
Maybe I was being absurdly suspicious. Still, the thought refused to leave me alone.
Whatever her intentions, it was too late to change anything. The auditor would come. I would have to show them the work I'd done.
I looked down at the large sheet of magic paper spread across my desk.
And froze.
Huh?
Circuits. Symbols. Patterns.
The three elements of a magic diagram fitted together without a single visible error.
That couldn't be right.
Only yesterday, repairing one circuit had disrupted another. Every attempt to correct a pattern had produced a new contradiction somewhere else, until I'd wanted to tear my hair out.
How could all those mistakes have disappeared overnight?
I touched the diagram with a fingertip and sent a small thread of mana into it.
My mana flowed along the circuits without obstruction. The entire diagram gave off a faint, steady glow.
It was working.
What…?
Had I been walking in my sleep? Had I somehow become a genius while unconscious and corrected all the errors myself?
Don't be ridiculous.
There was only one reasonable explanation. Someone else had altered the design while I slept.
And there was only one person in the mansion whose knowledge of magic could make such a thing possible.
The elf.
But why would she help me?
I couldn't begin to guess. Whatever her reason, she'd given me a chance to avoid utter disgrace.
Even if the spell failed when we tried to manifest it, I could at least present a coherent, carefully completed magic diagram. There would be room to argue that the research had produced something worthwhile.
Most importantly, I might avoid making the imperial family laugh at the Count for recommending me.
Knock, knock.
I looked up, forcing the fatigue from my expression.
“Come in.”
Havid stepped through the door. He looked somewhat tense.
“My lord. The guests from the imperial capital have arrived.”
“Who is here?”
“Five magicians from the imperial palace, and Professor Roylen of the Imperial University's Mage Tower.”
A full professor?
I had expected someone of considerable standing, but sending a full professor from the university's Mage Tower as an auditor was still an impressive choice.
“See that they're offered our finest refreshments and shown to the drawing room. I'll wash and dress, then join them. I can't appear before people sent by the imperial family looking like this.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Havid bowed and withdrew.
There was no more time to waste. I gathered the report, my research journal and the magic paper, then hurried out to make myself presentable.
Once I had washed and changed, I went straight to the drawing room, carrying my unfinished report, research notes and the diagram.
Professor Roylen was already seated at the table.
He wore a fashionable suit in the style of the principality, somewhat like the tailored coat Havid preferred. It suited him. There was an attractive, healthy vitality to his middle-aged face and upright bearing.
What alarmed me was the person sitting with him.
The elf?
They were conversing happily.
For a moment my heart nearly stopped. Had the elf caused some new disaster while I was away? But the atmosphere seemed friendly enough.
As I came closer, the professor rose and greeted me with a bright expression.
“You must be Viscount Theorad. I apologize for arriving earlier than expected.”
“No, Professor. I should apologize for keeping you waiting. I trust my slave hasn't inconvenienced you?”
“Inconvenienced me? Ha! You're joking.”
Roylen turned toward the elf, who lowered her head with a degree of politeness I rarely saw from her. Dressed neatly, she could have passed for a well-trained maid.
“I confess that I lost track of the time talking to her,” Roylen said. “She suggested that chanting might be simplified by linking the body's natural waves or rhythms to magical breathing. Whether the method can be made practical is another question, but the idea itself is ingenious.”
He gave me a warm, admiring look.
“Listening to her made me realize how much remains beyond my own understanding. Did you teach her magic personally?”
“She's only a slave, so perhaps—”
“I'm not speaking about her status. Don't be so modest. How could an ordinary slave discuss the principles of magic in such terms? It's plain that she's learned a fraction of the knowledge possessed by her master.”
You've got it completely wrong.
“I don't possess anything like the knowledge you're imagining. Compared with you, Professor, I'm still a novice.”
“Excessive modesty can be a fault of its own, you know. And please, you needn't stand on such ceremony with me. We can speak more easily.”
More easily?
A full professorship at the Imperial University's Mage Tower was an office recognized throughout the empire. As I understood it, even the Emperor's approval was required for an appointment. To slight such a professor would be perilously close to slighting the Emperor himself.
Was he asking me to ignore a rank that other nobles wouldn't dare disregard?
I shook my head.
“Your position and mine both require a certain courtesy, especially when others are watching. I would rather we respect that.”
“Oh. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Very well, then.”
He seemed willing to let the matter drop.
“More importantly, may I see the schematic for the artificial-rain spell you've been studying?”
“Of course. Perhaps I should first show you the report and my journal—”
“The schematic, please. The rest is beside the point.”
He wasn't entirely wrong. Reports existed to explain the design; a functioning magic circle would make far more convincing evidence than pages of apologies.
Still, there were procedures to follow. But he had come to audit me, and I was hardly in a position to refuse.
“Here it is.”
“Thank you.”
Roylen accepted the magic paper with both hands. Then he drew an elegant wand from his coat and tapped the page.
The drawn magic circle rose from the paper and spread out in the air between us.
My back stiffened.
Five years of struggling with the project, followed by three years of near-stagnation after imperial funding ended—eight years altogether—were now being judged by someone who understood far more than I did.
Yes, the elf had apparently repaired the design almost beyond recognition. That didn't make it any easier to sit still and watch.
I kept my expression composed.
“Well, Professor? What do you think…?”
Roylen stared at the floating circle. After a moment he took a pair of spectacles from his coat and put them on.
He examined it again, much more closely, murmuring to himself about circuit connections, the interactions between symbols and the arrangements of the patterns.
One part after another passed his scrutiny.
At last he fell silent.
“Oh, my goodness.”
He folded the magic paper away and clenched his hands, unable to conceal his excitement. His face had flushed, like that of an explorer who had stumbled upon a new continent.
“I was told that imperial research subsidies stopped three years ago. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And that you ceased making regular reports around the same time?”
“That's right, but—”
“I studied the old records before coming here. I thought… No, forgive me. I don't mean to disparage you.”
His eyes shone.
“Independent research almost never advances at such speed without imperial support. I've certainly never seen growth like this!”
He put a hand on my shoulder.
“We have no time to waste. Come outside and conduct a manifestation test with the imperial palace magicians. With a diagram this complete, the spell might succeed on its very first attempt! This could be an extraordinary discovery!”
“Professor, please calm down…”
“Calm down? We may be about to witness a spell that goes down in history!”
“I understand, but please don't pull—”
“Come along! I'll show you the way!”
Why is this man so strong?
Before I could object again, Roylen had taken hold of me and was practically dragging me from the drawing room.
The elf watched Roylen's excitement with a quiet laugh.
A chance of success on the first try?
What a foolish way to describe it. She was certain the spell would succeed, however meager the human caster's mana.
I made sure of that.
She had poured the accumulated experience and knowledge of many years into those corrections. Theorad's magic would manifest, and that arrogant, short-lived professor would have no choice but to recognize his accomplishment.
If it improved the condition of her toy, so much the better.
Shall I watch?
Following the test would certainly be more entertaining than sweeping the mansion floors.
She rose and made for the door.
Someone seized the back of her clothes and pulled her sharply backward.
“Eek!”
She turned, startled, only to receive a slap on the head.
It was Havid.
“You! Can't you see the other servants clearing the table? Instead of helping them, you think you can run after the master? Have you lost your senses?”
“…Hah.”
Her face went cold. She looked up at the old man.
Should I kill him?
Her dislike of Havid was becoming something she felt from the bottom of her heart.