Ch. 147

Sitting by a sunny window, I leisurely picked up a pen. Resting my chin on my hand and looking down at the stationery, I felt as if, today of all days, my elegance was shining.

“To my beloved Master Yael,”

The moment I filled in the first line, Rai—who had been watching—let out a shriek. Figures. A feeling is only a feeling.

[Master! Master!]

“What is it, what’s so urgent?”

When I frowned and glared, Rai blinked his round eyes rapidly, as if he’d made some great discovery, and practically shouted.

[After ten years as Master’s favorite spirit, I’ve finally realized it!]

“Who said you were my favorite? Dream big, why don’t you.”

[Favorite! Rai! They say even a dog in the Academy for three years can recite scripture—so this is what they meant!]

“Nice try… So what are you getting at?”

Rai was coiled on the table, the stationery just below him. Pointing at the letter with the tip of his tail, he declared confidently,

[When Master says ‘beloved,’ does that perhaps…!]

“Perhaps?”

[Mean ‘go to hell’?]

“Shut it.”

Sharp as ever. He knows far too much about me.

It was true I had the habit of tacking on such words when I had a favor to ask or right before making someone mad.

“Dear and respected Master, this is your one and only lovely and adorable disciple, Geenie Crowell. I hope you have been well.

I write in hopes you won’t be too shocked upon receiving this letter. There are ghastly rumors circulating that I’m dead, which is truly sad. Tough as I am, I’m still perfectly alive and well.

I believe you’ll be glad to hear I’m safe. While I’m at it, let me share one more happy piece of news. It concerns a girl named Annie, who should be delivering this letter.

She is the daughter of a benefactor I met by chance in the jungle. And—surprisingly enough—she has remarkable talent in spirit arts! So for the sake of a master gifted at teaching, I’ve brought her out into the world.

Moving, isn’t it? A first in your life, right? A talented student is a boon you can’t buy even with money.

There will likely never again be a disciple like me who presents her master with a student. I stress again, there’s no need to be overly moved. It’s really nothing.

I know you’ve been training hard these past few years to contract a high-level spirit, but as far as I know there’s been no progress. At times like that, a change of pace is essential.

I hope you’ll find new happiness in teaching a gifted child.

Please don’t misunderstand—this is absolutely not because I’m too lazy to teach and am dumping her on you. As you know, I’m not exactly good with children.

I do hope Annie won’t interfere with your training.

From your disciple who nearly died but lived, Geenie Crowell.”

After finishing, I felt I’d written only the bare essentials. I stroked my chin a few times with the feather on the pen tip, then added a bit more.

“P.S. I enclose a few jewels gifted by a dragon. Please accept this small token of my sincerity.”

I fetched an empty pouch and had Rai fill it.

Like a capsule machine in front of an elementary school, he clunked, clunked, and spat out dozens of fist-sized gems. A goose laying golden eggs had nothing on him.

[Want me to spit out more?]

“Hmm? Think this is enough to show sincerity?”

[What can this even buy?]

“A big manor on the outskirts, probably.”

[Ugh, that’s pocket change. We must maintain our dignity! Let’s add more!]

“Shall we? Pour it in!”

Since sparkly things are best for tokens of sincerity, I went all in—enough top-grade jewels to buy a large manor, hire ten servants, and employ them for a hundred years.

I thickened the pouch and, satisfied, folded the letter when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

As I slipped the letter into the envelope and sealed the flap with wax, the person who entered walked politely to the table, dropped to one knee, placed a hand over the chest, and fixed my gaze.

“Honored Saint, preparations are complete.”

“Already?”

“Yes, please come with me.”

It was a royal court mage dispatched from the palace.

At a glance, the long, trailing green robe made it hard to tell their gender, but judging by the voice, likely a middle-aged woman.

“You can just call me by my name.”

“How could I dare speak the Saint’s name?”

Stiff as a typical royal mage, she made me give up on informality, and I rose to my feet.

Before leaving, I set something heavy on the wax to help it set—namely, the gem pouch beside me.

It made the perfect paperweight.

“Let’s go. We can’t keep His Majesty waiting.”

“Indeed.”

The destination was close.

We left my room, walked down the corridor, and arrived at another door where Hansen stood guard.

He’d chosen that room as his quarters, but had yielded it for communication.

“Shall we enter?”

“What about Sir Hansen?”

“I’ll stand watch outside.”

The moment felt solemn—speaking with a king is never a simple matter.

Since all content had to remain secret, security was tight, and the court mage helping with the connection maintained a strictly businesslike demeanor, with no idle chatter.

After exchanging a brief nod with Hansen, I entered. The room’s layout matched mine, but the decor differed.

I felt slightly as if I’d come for a fortune-telling session—perhaps because of the crystal orb on the table, the lowered light with all windows curtained, and the typically dim ambiance of a communication chamber.

The scent of incense wafted thick at my nose. Where there are many mages, incense is always burning; they say it improves focus and mana sensitivity.

It smelled a bit like old books, with the side effect of killing appetite—so I didn’t like it.

Maybe that’s why mages tend to be so skinny—too much incense.

“Saint, please have a seat here.”

I wished they’d drop the “Saint,” but there was no helping it.

Following her guidance, I sat opposite and glanced around.

The Magic Tower’s communication room I’d visited before had also been dim; it was probably to make the figure beyond the orb show more clearly.

Magic is unscientific, yet this part was oddly scientific.

Sitting quietly as preparations continued, I naturally sensed something.

A magic circle lay right beneath my feet.

It was the invisible kind, but I could roughly read its shape from the flow of mana.

‘Let’s see—there’s a basic circle to condense mana, a communication circle to set coordinates… that one I don’t recognize. Looks like some activation series.’

I wasn’t a specialist, so I could only grasp the gist, but it was clear this royal mage—who completed all preparations in three hours—was extremely skilled.

It takes me four or five just to draw one circle; if they’d made me do all this, I’d have ended it by blowing up the inn instead.

Using a magic circle like this for a single call felt wasteful. Then again, it was palace scale—so be it…

“Are you ready?”

She asked while I was looking elsewhere. I turned back to her—or rather, to the shadow beneath her robe—and nodded.

At the Magic Tower, they hung a curtain between the mage and me so our faces wouldn’t be visible; now we were staring at each other outright.

“Anytime.”

“Then let’s begin. Please look at the orb.”

Her pale hand slipped from her wide sleeve and stroked the orb gently, like petting an animal’s head. The circles at our feet responded in unison, and the mana—normally diffuse like air—began to rearrange itself by some rule.

A whirl of light swirled inside the orb.

“It’ll connect shortly.”

Whooo.

A subtle pulse spread from the mage, lifting my hair into the air before it slowly settled. It felt very much like static.

“You may speak now.”

As the light in the orb faded, that was the signal we were connected.

I looked into the orb, but heard only a voice, not the other party’s image.

[Identity verification to follow. Please look straight into the orb.]

So like this, then. We didn’t have this step when I spoke with the Headmaster.

[Your name?]

“Geenie Crowell.”

[Authorized communicator confirmed. Geenie Crowell, your passphrase.]

“The golden blade does not rust.”

[It will shine forever.]

“Glory to the homeland.”

[Thank you for your cooperation.]

As expected for a king, the connection wasn’t simple even with prior arrangements. It didn’t link directly to the king; it seemed to route through a censors’ office first.

That would make eavesdropping or recording impossible—perfect for confidential talks—but… was talking to me really that important?

Within the translucent orb, the familiar figure of King Dikel III emerged, hazy at first.

“I, Geenie Crowell, pay respects to His Majesty the King.”

Before the image fully clarified, I rose and bowed deeply.

[You.]

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[Raise your head.]

It was our first meeting since that nightmare of a party—four months now.

The king, who called me in a hurried voice, still looked robust.

‘Good,’ I smiled faintly.

[It truly… is you.]

“You look surprised.”

[How could I not be? Everyone thought you dead.]

“Heaven didn’t help, but here I am alive.”

It was purely thanks to me that I lived. The king must have taken it as banter to lighten the mood, because he laughed heartily and gestured for me to sit.

By the time I drew in my chair and sat, his image was crystal clear.

[You look a bit gaunt. Are you well?]

Beyond the head-sized orb, I could see he, too, was seated somewhere.

“I have heard I might have lost some weight… but I’m well. I suppose it’s from not being able to eat a balanced diet for a while.”

[What, did the dragon starve you?]

“That, at least, no.”

They tried to feed me monster meat, or tried to eat me—but they didn’t starve me. I had to be fully self-sufficient, and there’s only so much in the forest worth eating. Jerky, or jerky and jerky.

[I can’t even imagine what you went through.]

‘Well, I taught a dragon, magic, so of course you can’t.’ But if I said that, Adelaide Gold might appear behind me and cut me into eight pieces, so I chose stories that preserved draconic dignity.

“Fortunately, dragons are noble beings who know mercy. The fact I’m alive is proof.”

[Are they? On the day of the imperial party, it looked rather displeased…]

“Ahem! Ah, seeing Your Majesty safe brings me no end of joy. What could be more rewarding? Is everyone well? No injuries?”

He either didn’t notice I’d changed the subject, or pretended not to.

[Thanks to you, all are safe. I should have said this first… thank you.]

“You flatter me.”

[You are the savior of my life.]

“I only did what I could…”

I trailed off out of sheer shock.

While I chatted blithely, the king, who had been gazing steadily at me through the orb, placed both hands together on the table—and then bowed his head deeply, and I broke into a cold sweat.