CHAPTER 1
Departure
Instructors went missing, students were consumed by the spell—yet despite the chaos, time at Kimberly flowed ever onward.
A new spring arrived. To bid farewell to the departing seventh years, a crowd of students gathered in the same hall used for the full student body assembly. Not on orders, but of their own free will.
“Thanks for coming. I know every one of you has a lot on your plates.”
Godfrey was at the podium, speaking on behalf of the graduates. He started out with a solemn look, but that soon gave way to a smirk.
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. Kimberly graduations are notoriously slapdash,” he assured his audience. “Still—if I could take this moment to brag. We are about to venture forth into the free world once more, with only a few oddballs choosing to remain within these bloodstained corridors. Are you not jealous?!”
This, from the former student body president. Everyone winced.
“You can say that again.”
“You’re going to a fresh hell!”
Exactly the response he’d expected. Godfrey shrugged it off.
“I’m afraid so. The paths of our spells don’t end here—they are only just beginning. Some of us will face even greater hardships. And of course, some will not survive them,” he said. “But I know this: No matter what we face, we are not helpless. No matter how unreasonable the predicament, we will not quail, we will not lose hope. We will take wand in hand and do battle. We have long since been forged into that manner of beast.”
Godfrey held his white wand high—and as he lowered it, he dropped his gaze.
“Counting from my first day at Kimberly, the death toll in my year was approximately twenty-three percent. Actually above average. Some of those deaths are on me. There were those I could not save, those I could not protect. If I had been a better man, perhaps they would be standing with us today.” He continued, “You will undoubtedly face similar regrets. No one leaves Kimberly unscathed. We all lose something precious and emerge with a piece of ourselves missing. Nothing can ever fill that gap. We will never find a replacement, no matter what results we achieve otherwise.”
The younger students found themselves straightening up. These were not words that could be ignored. A man who’d faced the turmoil of this hellscape head-on was trying to teach them something.
“So remember this. If you’ve already lost something: Trace your finger around that emptiness. If you’ve yet to lose anything: Hold on tight. That will form the core of your humanity. Do not take this loss for granted. Do not meet what fate snatches from you with a nod of resignation. Each time you give up, it takes a piece of your soul. And when you stand at the edge of the spell’s abyss—the discoveries awaiting you will be naught but hollow falsehoods.”
With that fervent plea, Godfrey cast his eyes toward the ceiling and sighed.
“That’s all I’ve got to say. Our time is done.” He then whispered, “Good-bye, Kimberly. I’ve always hated you.”
He left the podium. Not to applause, but to a respectful silence.
“Wahhhhhhhh…!”
After the ceremony, most students filed out, leaving room for individual farewells. Tim’s face was a fright, and Godfrey was busy patting his shoulders.
“C’mon, Tim, enough tears. You’re the president now. Be cool.”
“I don’t wanna! I was only acting cool for your benefit!” Tim wailed, heedless of who saw him.
Yet his behavior was hardly out of place here. Any number of students were shedding tears, reluctant to part. Who could blame them? Time at Kimberly was just that potent, and relationships forged here were just that powerful.
“That was a good speech, Mr. Godfrey,” Chela said once Tim had calmed down a bit.
The rest of the Sword Roses were right on her heels, and Godfrey and Lesedi met them with smiles.
“You all came? I appreciate the kind words, but it was nothing that fancy. I merely spoke my mind.”
“And we’re speaking ours,” Katie said, sounding grateful.
Beside her, Pete looked right at Godfrey and asked, “You and Ms. Ingwe are both bound for the Gnostic Hunters?”
“You’re not scared?” Katie said. “I hear that work gets gnarly…”
“I’m nothing but scared,” Godfrey told them. “But I know what I’ve done here will serve me well. I’ve got a thicker skin than most.”
“And I’ve got his back. Been covering for him since he still burned his arm with every spell cast.”
Lesedi’s grin was reassuring and brought smiles to their lips. Here, three more graduates approached: the members of Team Leoncio, fresh off their defeat in the combat league.
“A stray dog will howl no matter where it goes. Just try not to die in a ditch somewhere.”
“I certainly have no plans to do so, Leoncio. I’ve promised you that much.”
“Hmph. At least you remember.”
Leoncio snorted and turned away. Glancing at the elf beside him, Chela voiced a concern.
“…Ms. Albschuch, are you really leaving Kimberly? My father was worried about you.”
“Worried about me, too, Ms. McFarlane? I could have stayed, but I’ve given Percy enough headaches. Following Leo seemed a better option. I may have more elves on my heels out there, but that’s what adds spice to life.”
“That said, we may have occasion to beg your father’s assistance, Ms. McFarlane.” The alchemist, Gino Beltrami, bowed obsequiously. “I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive what conflicts may have transpired before.”
Chela glanced at the friends beside her. She’d faced only indirect threats during the Rivermoore incident, but Nanao’s and Oliver’s clashes with Khiirgi had been far more intense.
“May I ask your thoughts, Nanao?” said Chela.
“I would be thrilled to duel her again here and now!”
“You don’t say! I’m not one to refuse an offer—shall we move away from prying eyes?”
“Do I have to carry you bodily out the gates, Khiirgi?” Gino said, grabbing her collar. Then he shot Tim a mischievous glance. “No tears for my departure, Tim?”
“H-hell no! Get outta here! Go on, scram!”
Tim hid behind Godfrey, hissing like an angry cat. To Oliver, this registered less as anger than confusion; Tim no longer knew how to behave around Gino.
Meanwhile, Lesedi and Khiirgi exchanged a single glance, speaking not a word. It seemed that more than sufficed for both of them.
Having observed the shift in the graduates’ relationships firsthand, Oliver stepped up toward one in particular.
“Mr. Godfrey, if I may ask one last favor.”
“Ask away, Mr. Horn. If it is within my power, I’d be happy to help.”
Godfrey’s gentle gaze landed on Oliver, who had to take a deep breath.
“Can I try my blade against yours? No holds barred?”
Murmurs broke out around them. Godfrey took this challenge seriously.
“Very well,” he said. “People…”
“Give ’em room!” Lesedi yelled, already directing the crowds.
In the clearing provided, Godfrey and Oliver took their athames in hand.
“…You’re far stronger now. Would hardly recognize you as that one first-year boy.”
“I’m aware—which is why I want to measure the gulf between us.”
Oliver struck a mid-stance at one-step, one-spell range, and Godfrey gestured for him to make the first move. Oliver took that offer.
“Huff—!”
A thrust as he stepped in. Leaving his torso open—standard-issue bait, intended to draw a kick. Even Lanoff-style had tricks to deal with footwork, one of which was cut their leg as they kicked. Using one’s feet at sword range carried considerable risk, and it was not uncommon for the kick to whiff and for the attacker to receive a gash on the ankle in the bargain.
“ ”
But Godfrey was well aware of that. He did not take that bait easily. He stepped forward himself, deflecting the thrust, the pressure of his return intended to unbalance his foe.
“Ngh—!”
An impact hard enough to blow away everything past the elbow. Not foolish enough to soak that directly, Oliver matched the swing, redirecting the momentum. Don’t panic, he told himself. This is fine. He’s got more mana, more output, and more experience than you. But you’ve got one advantage—the degree to which you’ve honed Lanoff-style arts.
Godfrey had developed his own fighting style, mixing in blunt strikes—it was well suited for brawls. Yet only a part of that sum applied in a pure one-on-one duel at sword range. If Oliver had a shot at victory, it lay there.
What he needed to avoid most was crumbling under the pressure and backing away. Quite literally, the moment he did, the fight would be over. No spells Oliver could cast would ever match Godfrey’s output. Nor could he play this like he had in his first battle with Albright and go for grappling moves—techniques outside the core of sword arts were Godfrey’s domain. He’d proven that much in the combat league.
“…Ggh… Ahh…!”
“ !”
Oliver had to win as a fencer. He steeled himself, enduring the disadvantage—a fact that impressed Godfrey to no end. The discrepancy in arm strength alone was greater than that between the average adult and child. Oliver was essentially fending off a giant’s frenzied attack armed with only a tree branch—a feat made possibly entirely by the degree to which he’d honed his Lanoff knowledge. What training and obsession had made that possible at this boy’s age? In his time at Kimberly, Godfrey had seen how many a mage lived, yet this was still beyond his imagining.
He’d have loved to let Oliver win, to let that suffering pay dividends. He did not wish to show him the cruel reality that would drive him to still greater hardships.
“……”
Godfrey choked back his momentary lapse. That’s not what he wants.
“ !”
Godfrey’s leg went up, and Oliver’s eyes tracked it. The target was not Oliver’s torso, but the leg he’d extended with his thrust. A kick that obvious, free of any gambits, in the midst of a furious exchange? Not a good idea. Oliver could still pull back his wrist in time for a counter, raking it with his blade. No reason not to. He wouldn’t likely get a chance like this again.
“ ?!”
And yet…his arm didn’t move.
Oliver gaped—and his immobilized wrist was struck by a kick from the side. He heard the snap of the bone breaking, and his athame went flying.
“Gah—”
“Oliver!” Katie yelped.
He was still staring at his broken arm in shock, Godfrey’s blade pointed at his face.
“You wanted no holds barred, you got it. Was it useful?”
“…Y-yes. Excruciatingly. Can’t argue with a thing…”
Oliver nodded through the pain. Godfrey smiled and sheathed his athame while the boy assessed himself.
He felt a numbness in his broken arm, but not from the blow itself. Like he’d been hit with a lightning spell—clearly the cause of his defeat. Godfrey’s athame had probably been laced with a low voltage from the get-go, and with each blow they’d exchanged, more of that had transferred and accumulated until Oliver’s nerves grew numb enough for the kick to finish things.
This technique existed in Lanoff as well, under the name Hidden Snake. Oliver had thought he was narrowly deflecting Godfrey’s furious assault, but he’d been too focused on that to notice the elemental attribute applied to the athame itself. Had he noticed, he could have easily countered it with the oppositional—yet no one there would call this an oversight on his part. Having a legitimate exchange with Purgatory was achievement enough.
“A very Kimberly way to end things. Thank you, Mr. Horn.”
With that, Godfrey and Lesedi turned, headed for the gates. Tim wavered between chasing them and looking after his wounded junior, but Oliver shot him a glance, shaking him off. Tim ran after Godfrey, and the Sword Roses flocked to Oliver, soon followed by Gwyn and Shannon—his cousins, who’d been watching nearby.
“Noll… I’ll fix that arm.”
“Oliver—!”
“Let our elders take this one, Katie.”
Katie had moved to help heal him and puffed out her cheeks when Chela stopped her. It was a clean break, and as Shannon fixed it up, Gwyn gave him a stern look.
“…That was foolhardy. You knew you had no shot at winning.”
“That’s why I did it. He’s only going to get stronger. If I don’t measure the distance now, how can I even begin to give chase?”
He glanced at Godfrey’s retreating back.
Joining the Gnostic Hunters meant Godfrey was siding with the status quo, protecting the magical world much like the Kimberly faculty did. His time as a trustworthy mentor ended today. From this point on, he would not help. Worse:
Next time we meet, we’ll be enemies.
Oliver kept that thought to himself even as his mind vividly conjured a horrible future where he had to turn his blade on a man he was indebted to.
Shortly after the graduation ceremony, a long vacation awaited Kimberly’s students.
Although the entire student body was freed from classes, this break was extra lengthy for those about to start their fourth year. Moving from the lower to the upper forms was a good time to sort out one’s affairs. Many students returned home to report their progress, while others planned research expeditions. The Sword Roses were no exception.
“Everyone packed?” Katie asked. The others all nodded.
They were eating dinner in the lower forms’ dining hall, the Fellowship—and would not be returning here often.
“It’s tomorrow,” Pete said. “I’m as ready as I can be now. Looking forward to a nice, long trip.”
“Ain’t been on the mainland in ages,” Guy added. “Daitsch and Lantshire to Farnland, then from there to Ytalli and back to Yelgland, visiting all our homes. It’s gonna be great.”
Oliver had been waiting for his moment and made his move.
“About that—I have a proposal.”
“Why so formal?” Chela asked. “We can easily accommodate a change of schedule.”
“That’s not what I mean… Rather, I’d like to invite someone else along.”
This caught everyone by surprise.
“Whoa,” Guy said. “Who? Not Rossi?”
“We already plan to meet him on location. I’d like to bring—”
“Me.”
The voice came from right next to Oliver, and everyone jumped. There stood Teresa Carste, soon to enter her third year.
“Teresa?” Katie asked. “You wanna come with?”
Teresa nodded, expressionless.
“…It was my idea,” Oliver said, his expression stiff. “This seemed like the right moment to show her the outside world. That is, if you’ll permit it.”
He searched his friends’ faces, and they glanced at each other.
“…Why not? It’s fine. Besides, Marco’s coming. An underclassman plus-one doesn’t bother me.”
“There ya go. Wanna speak for the bashful brigade, Pete?”
“Please, Guy. I might object to a total stranger, but we’ve known this kid long enough.”
“Then I agree as well,” added Chela. “Nanao?”
“The more the merrier!”
A chorus of good cheer, and Oliver breathed a sigh of relief.
“Just you, Teresa?” Katie asked. “Won’t the other three feel left out?”
“Mr. Travers is busy with makeup classes, and Mr. Cornish is helping him. Ms. Appleton is prepping for her major and can’t be away for long. Teresa alone had solid grades but has yet to pick a major, and she was available to join us,” Oliver explained.
“So you’re slacking off with us?” Guy grinned. “We got you covered, then.”
“Glad you’re all on board.” Oliver turned to the girl. “There you have it, Teresa. I’m sure you need to get prepped, but have your baggage ready by tomorrow.”
“Will do. See you then.”
With that, Teresa turned and darted out of the Fellowship.
Guy watched her go, then elbowed his friend.
“…So? Why’d you decide to wedge her in? Too cute to leave behind?”
“…Hard to deny that, but like I said: I think it’s time for her to see more of the world. Given her history, she’s seen far less than most.”
He’d first broached the subject with his cousins a few days ago.
“A long trip? Perfect time for it. Enjoy yourself.”
Gwyn had agreed readily. They were in the hidden workshop on the labyrinth’s first layer, discussing Oliver’s plans with his friends. Oliver found Gwyn’s approval hard to believe—tensions were only rising on campus.
“…I assumed you’d reject the notion. Are you saying it’s better I’m not at Kimberly?”
“Exactly. Demitrio Aristides’s disappearance has the faculty at peak precaution. Staying put would actually arouse suspicion. The best thing you can do now is go hang out abroad with your friends.”
Gwyn was working on a potion as he spoke. Oliver’s frown deepened.
“…Safe to assume we made it through the student body assembly?”
“Yeah. Like with the Enrico fight, half of those who died against Demitrio were already marked as dead on the official records. They’d faked their own deaths in the labyrinth long before. There were six exceptions, but a number that low will likely be chalked up as part of…the standard death rate.”
His voice trailed off in a rasp, and Oliver hung his head. This was one trick they’d used to avoid faculty detection; the school had no way to track the deaths of people already declared deceased.
But that didn’t change the fact that they’d lost too many. Janet Dowling, editor of the third school paper, had worked closely with Gwyn for years—and Oliver knew her death had hit him hard. Her voice would not echo across this workshop again.
“…No need to worry about me or Shannon. We’re already officially on the staff rolls, and suspicions will turn our way long after other students. Theo’s group ensured we had alibis during the Demitrio fight itself. The rest of our comrades demand even less consideration. A few may have more eyes on them now, but that’s nothing new.”
Gwyn was doing his best to alleviate Oliver’s concerns. Seeing the boy still dithering, Shannon put her hands on his shoulders from behind.
“Go, Noll. That’s what…I want you to do.”
“Sister…”
If she was pushing for this, too, he could hardly refuse. Still, Oliver thought, this might be my last chance to step away from the war zone. Best to make it count.
“…Fine. In which case, I have one more favor to ask.”
His decision made, he turned his mind to the covert operative under his command.
“…Everything about this is self-serving,” Oliver said, downcast. “I really appreciate you agreeing to it.”
A look of sadness crossed Katie’s eyes.
“I’d pay good money to help you serve yourself for once…,” she muttered.
Realizing every eye had turned her way, she hastily changed the subject.
“N-never mind! Guy, we’ve gotta hit up the base and get Marco ready. I’ve got permission to take him, but he’s big and hard to move! We gotta rehearse!”
“Sure, sure. Agreed that he’s a bigger problem than a tiny underclassman.”
Guy let Katie pull him away, leaving the other four in the Fellowship.
He glanced at her as they walked side by side. “…Teresa don’t make you jealous?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you get all competitive with the Sherwood girl. Teresa sticks to Oliver like glue, so I wondered why she ain’t bugging you.”
A blunt question, and it made Katie blush and turn away.
“I-I’m not trying to compete! Just… Teresa and Oliver’s thing feels different.”
“Oh?”
Guy looked baffled, so Katie mustered a sad smile.
“You don’t get that? The way Oliver looks at her… It’s the same as when my parents worry about me.”
Bright and early the next morning, they assembled at the school gates and departed for the first stop on their itinerary.
“Hnggggggg…!”
“Hang in there, Guy!”
“Not much farther!”
Aloft on their brooms, encouraging each other, the Sword Roses and Teresa were carrying Marco in a harness, suspended beneath them. A troll weighed quite a lot, but their magic was keeping him aloft. They reached their destination after a thirty-minute flight, and by the time they set Marco down, all fliers were panting.
“W-we made it…!”
“Hahh, hahh…” Guy was out of breath. “Sorry, Marco, but I gotta say it… You’re really heavy…”
“Unh, sorry. I can’t make myself lighter…”
“Hah, hah… Don’t sweat it, Marco. We had ways to ease that burden and could’ve had you transported here normally. We made our choice.”
“Indeed! And it was Guy’s idea in the first place. He’s the one who said we should be strong enough to carry you ourselves.”
Pete and Chela were doing their best to cheer Marco up. Nanao wiped the sweat from her brow, beaming.
“And carry you we did! Proof of our growth and glad tidings.”
“I entirely agree,” said Chela. “Ms. Carste, how did you fair? I’m sure you were not expecting hard labor.”
“…I…managed…”
Teresa nodded, struggling to get her breath back. Freight conveyance was hardly her forte, and it had taken a real toll on her. Oliver was gently rubbing her back.
“Good work. The rest of the voyage is by ship. Watch the scenery a while, and you’ll forget to be tired.”
“…Good.”
She managed to straighten up and feign recovery.
A voice called down from the landing ahead—a crew member on the ships floating there.
“Ferry to Cape Hill, leaving in twenty!” she yelled. “Passengers, get your tickets ready and talk to the crew.”
“Oh, right! Coming!”
Katie waved a hand, and the eight of them boarded the ship. Technically this was five midsize ships connected front and back for efficient passenger transport down a narrow waterway. Marco settled down beneath the awning on deck, and the others placed their baggage in their cabins. A vessel this size could normally carry a few dozen passengers, so the deck had plenty of room even with Marco camping out. They were the last ship in the convoy and didn’t need to worry about other passengers bothering them.
“Relaxing on deck sure is grand,” said Guy. “Renting out the whole ship was good idea.”
“We can’t exactly shove Marco in a hold. But you do remember the condition we struck to lower the fee, yes?” Chela asked.
“Yep,” Katie replied. “Helping with loading and unloading in ports and in the event of an accident. We’re hopping ships several times, but they all struck deals on those terms. Every boat is glad to have mages aboard.”
“It’s mutually beneficial, so I’m gonna make the most of it.”
With that, Pete plopped down in the corner of the cabin and pulled a small golem out of his belongings. Everyone settled in somewhere, and the ship started moving.
Nanao was up on deck, watching the view with delight. “Such speed! Most unlike the vessels I saw back home.”
“These waterways were made to improve transport, so they come with a guaranteed minimal speed and very little roughness. Mages don’t take them often, so this is a good experience for you,” Oliver explained.
Mages primarily rode their brooms around—this was nearly always the fastest way to get somewhere. But there was much that could not be seen from the sky. Chief among that were the parts of magical society that overlapped with ordinaries. This journey would go a long way to help Nanao fully understand Yelgland and the Union.
“…Are you sure we shouldn’t have tried to make a visit to Yamatsu work? I knew it’s a long way, but you’re certainly capable of making it there now.”
“Alas, that is a desire I am not permitted. Before my departure, I told my mother this—consider your daughter as good as dead.”
Her tone was almost indifferent, and Oliver could say nothing more.
He remembered what she’d been like when they first met. Scouted by Theodore at the brink of death, Nanao had compared the crossing of the seas to a voyage to the afterlife.
“My home was razed to the ground in the wars. For that reason, too, I cannot lightly return. Lord McFarlane has been known to update me on the state of affairs there, so I know my clan still survives somehow. And the funds I send back are reaching them.”
“…Makes sense. He’s the one who arranged for your admission.”
Oliver was quietly relieved to hear this. However slim the thread, she did still have a connection to her home.
Nanao leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
“Which is not to say I do not miss it. At those times, human warmth is the best medicine.”
“You sure don’t hesitate anymore.”
Smiling, Oliver pulled her close.
Katie had been watching through the cabin window, and she jumped to her feet.
“…Guy, knees.”
“Mm?”
“Just shut up and hug me.”
Guy had been sitting next to her, but now she sat down on his lap and pulled his arms around her waist. Guy did as he was told, making a face.
“Already in pampered-princess mode? You don’t usually spring this on me.”
“Yeah, well. Chela would just worry. Pete’s busy tinkering.”
“Fair enough. And the other two look occupied.”
Katie dropped her gaze. “Lately…Nanao…”
“Mm?”
“…She smells like him. Like Oliver. Every time I hug her, I know.”
Her voice was a strangled squeak, and it made Guy blush and splutter.
“…Welp, that’s, uh… Must be rough.”
“It’s a huge problem! I’m losing my mind here!”
“I know, I know. I ain’t complaining. Let that bring you to me.”
Guy started stroking her hair. Feeling like that wasn’t enough, he glanced at the girl sitting in the cabin corner.
“Oh, there you are, Teresa. Don’t just lurk—come help pamper the princess.”
“I lack the social skills.”
“You gonna play that card the whole trip? If we all don’t get acquainted, Oliver’ll start to worry.”
“Teresa! C’mere!”
Katie’s arms were out, beckoning. Resigned to her fate, Teresa got up and reluctantly joined them.
“Don’t sweat it. Mentally, you’re about the same age as the princess here. Just pretend like she’s your good-for-nothing sister and play along.”
“Can it, Guy. Look, Teresa, we’ve brought magic chess and card games—see anything you like?”
“I know the rules for most of those. Rita makes me play sometimes.”
“Oh, is it time for games?” Chela perked up. “Then let me join you!”
Nanao and Oliver returned to the cabin shortly after. Marco was feeling seasick, so they’d given him some space. For a while, they all played cards.
“…Hmm, I think we’re nearing the crest. Time we hit the deck,” Oliver suggested.
They put the game away and left the cabin. Marco was still under that awning, and Katie ran over to him.
“Marco, are you feeling better? Has your stomach settled?”
“Mm. You were right, Katie. Staring into the distance helps.”
“Wild trolls never take to the water. Are you scared at all?” Oliver asked.
“Only a bit.” Marco grinned. “I’m okay. If I fall off, you’ll catch me.”
“Damn straight!” Guy said, confident. “We practiced hard enough! We’ll dive right in and yank you out.”
“Don’t forget to put a bubble around your head,” Chela warned. “Dive without one, and you can’t chant!”
As she spoke, the ship’s prow rose. The ship was clearly headed up a slope, and Nanao ran to the front of it.
“Ohhh!” she yelped. “How bizarre! Water flowing uphill!”
“We’ve started the ascent. Quite a spectacle, isn’t it?”
“Generally, they dig a tunnel instead, but there’s a sizable town at the top here. Enough passengers that they turn a profit even with all the elemental water this requires.”
“Okay, pop quiz!” Katie announced.
All eyes turned toward her.
“The magical industrial revolution required an expansion of the transportation network. How did they pull that off? Yes, Teresa!”
“The waterways we see before us. I’ve heard they reach all corners of the Union, facilitating trade.”
“Correct! But normally, water only flows downhill. There may not be a river where you need one, and if you’re stuck using existing terrain, there are hard limits on the growth of your shipping channels. How was this issue resolved? Yes, Guy!”
“They just made their own waterways. Full use of elementals.”
“Not wrong, but a bit sloppy! Marco, show him how it’s done!”
“Mm? Me?”
Marco reached into his memories, then began to speak, eyes on the view flowing past.
“Excavation employed tamed wyrms. They ate the soil, leaving canals in their wake. All they had to do was treat the sides and bottom and connect the waterways to each other.”
“W-wow… You know all that?”
“It’s nothing. I just read a book and repeated the contents.”
Marco shrugged, and Katie nodded.
“Well put, Marco,” she said. “But that doesn’t explain how the water flows. Once water’s flowed downward, it’s not going back uphill…but we can see for ourselves that it is! How do they make it work? Can you explain that?”
“Mm. The entire international canal network forms a giant sigil, converting mana from ley lines to change the currents. The flow of the water is no longer constrained by gravity. The current flows faster in flat areas and can flow uphill as well.”
“Exactly! And the history of this idea?”
“Uh… I think the concept itself has been around for over a thousand years. It was always technically possible, but international construction projects weren’t practical. The founding of the Union resolved that issue.”
“Got it in one! Well done! You’re so great, Marco!”
Katie was jumping with joy. Oliver was suitably impressed.
“Describing how they work is one thing, but the history of their construction—Katie, did you prep him?”
“Nope! I gave him a lot of books, but Marco acquired all this knowledge on his own! He’s absorbing information like crazy! He could probably teach small children.”
She looked super proud of him.
“That’s very impressive, Katie, Marco,” Chela said, looking up at the troll. Her brow furrowed. “Almost alarming. I know of no mages who ever imagined trolls could be this intelligent.”
“He’s not just comprehending the words and context; he’s speaking with an eye to their impact on society itself,” Pete said. “No different from a well-educated adult human. Spreading recordings of Marco talking like this would likely disrupt the entire field of demi studies.”
Chela nodded and turned to Katie.
“That’s what concerns me, Katie. What do you plan to do with this result? It’s a bit too earth-shattering to publish lightly. You must pick who you share it with.”
That cooled Katie’s head quickly. She moved over to Marco, throwing her arms around his oversized finger.
“I’ve got several ideas, including participating in the civil rights movement. But—all of those ideas have to go through Marco first. Nothing matters more than what he wants to do and who he wants to talk to.”
She had her priorities straight. Guy put his hands on his hips, grinning.
“And that’s all stuff to work out in the upper forms! Sounds like a plan.”
“…Yeah, when it’s time to make a move, we’ll be prepared to offer advice. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” said Oliver. “Agreed, Chela?”
“Naturally. I’m afraid my awe and curiosity got the better of me. I should have known your opinion mattered most, Marco. Forgive my indiscretion.”
“I’m not mad. You’re always nice, Chela. I know you worry about Katie.”
Marco’s answer clearly tickled her. This ended the serious discussion, and Oliver changed the subject.
“Speaking of curiosity, the more we talk to you, the more things I want to try. Like contact with elementals. Your species has a greater affinity for nature than ours, so you probably have a different perspective on these waterways. Can I ask what you make of them?”
“Mm. The water here is…intoxicating, scary,” Marco said, peeking over the edge of the ship. “I don’t even want to dip my toe in, much less drink it.”
Oliver nodded gravely. “Good instincts. There’s a downright unnatural concentration of elementals here, and that’s toxic to living creatures. Drinking it would disrupt your blood flow—humans who fall into it often die from that alone even if they’re fished out in time.”
“I wonder how that affects mages. Guy, feeling thirsty?”
“I’m not your lab rat, Pete!” Guy snapped. “Ferries these days are well stocked and have concessions on board!”
Their journey was off to a lively start.
The waterways were well maintained, and the speeds guaranteed. The journey was a smooth one. The Sword Roses helped with loading and unloading at ports, and the ferry reached the last stop on the route that afternoon. This harbor faced the ocean.
“This is the southern edge of Yelgland. From here, we’re at sea!”
“Then sails ahoy? What manner of construction do these ships employ?”
Nanao was eager to see their next transport, but the others just smiled, exchanging glances.
“Nanao, I’m afraid—”
“By ‘at sea,’ we mean—well, you’ll find out.”
That got a frown from Nanao, but her friends refused to elaborate. They didn’t want prior knowledge ruining the surprise.
An obscenely large bridge stretched out to the horizon. That was the first thing Nanao spotted—followed shortly by the large ship convoys traveling to and fro atop it. Two waterways arcing across the ocean, one inbound, one out. Both packed with ships carrying cargo and passengers.
At the prow of one such ship, Nanao watched the land retreat in the distance behind, unable to contain her excitement.
“Waterways above the water itself! What a marvel!”
Beside her, Oliver filled her in. “Otherwise the Yelgland island would be cut off from the mainland network. The Big Bridge over the channel was the first crazy-expensive project launched following the Union’s founding. There’s all kinds of wild stories from the construction.”
Naturally, it was possible to sail across, but ships were dependent on ocean currents and weather. Ensuring steady flow of merchandise and people required a direct link to the mainland, as massive an undertaking as that was. The bridge currents were bolstered by mana taken from the ley lines, so the ships moved far faster than they could in the open waters.
Hair streaming in the salty breeze, Chela added, “I understand dealing with marine magifauna was a real sore spot. They had to relocate entire colonies to new territories during the planning stages.”
“And that caused all sorts of environmental problems! Wastewater from the bridge alone is a bad influence!”
“You never run out of things to complain about, huh? Go off, I guess,” Guy groused.
Katie was soon in deep discussion with Oliver and Chela. Teresa had been absentmindedly gazing out at sea, but then Nanao joined her.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Teresa?”
“…More or less.”
“Aha. I am having the time of my life. I had never imagined I would see a river flowing above the ocean.”
Nanao glanced around her.
“I believe this is what Oliver wished you to see.”
“The river?”
“Nay—how wide the world is.”
Teresa had no answer there. She’d certainly thought about why she’d been invited. Part of her was aware her lord wanted her to see the world outside, since she knew only Kimberly. She knew Oliver well enough to get that.
“Has your perspective broadened? There is much in this world besides Oliver.”
“…You’re not one to talk.”
“He is certainly ever on my mind. Both our eyes are on his every move,” Nanao admitted. Then she smirked and whispered in the girl’s ear, “Fancy a competition, Teresa?”
“On what terms?”
“Which of us can get our arms around Oliver first. Naturally, I would not dream of holding back.”
A challenge issued, and Teresa’s wand leaped to her hand.
“…Impediendum.”
“Hrm?!”
“I’m game—and I’ve already won.”
Having paralyzed her opponent, Teresa took off running. This level of enthusiasm was allowed, she told herself, pouncing on Oliver’s back. Her covert operative training had led her to aim for that side—and it came back to haunt her. On pure reflex, Oliver hopped sideways out of her path.
“ ?!”
“Dodging ruins my plans, sir.”
“Why’d you cannonball in?! Stop; we can’t make a fuss on deck— Augh!”
A second projectile inbound, and again he dodged. Nanao righted herself from her failed charge, grinning.
“You evaded that? Your instincts remain formidable!”
“You too, Nanao?! Tone it down! You’re gonna push me overboard!”
He turned to reprimand them further, but a bellow echoed from the far side of the deck:
“Hey! No horsing around, kiddos! You wanna get your bones picked clean by the scrubber shrimp below?!”
A crew member was running their way—Oliver had been too late.
All three ended up getting chewed out for a solid five minutes.
“…Happy now? You got me mixed up in this.”
“…Sorry…”
“I do regret it…”
Teresa and Nanao drooped.
“A sight for sore eyes.” Chela tittered. “With our wands hidden beneath our clothes, ordinaries don’t hesitate to yell at us. A rare opportunity.”
“Best to pick the place and time for hard-core hugs. But you’ll get no sympathy from me, Oliver.”
“Why not?!”
Guy just started whistling.
The ship sailed smoothly on, and in time, they could see the far side of the channel. The ship swept them across the bridge to the mainland.
“We’re entering the primary waterway,” Chela said. “The biggest canal on the mainland.”
The mouth alone was a solid two thousand yards wide. Even their lengthy convoy could easily turn around here. The expanse opened up before them, flanked by the port town.
“…Damn, that’s big,” Guy said.
“Such breadth! Is this, too, a waterway?” Nanao asked.
“Overwhelming, right? Before the network was constructed, the river here was already a major shipping lane. They’d already been expanding the width of it. Now it’s larger than some lakes.”
“But that means the original ecosystems—”
“Can you not just let one thing pass?”
Katie tried to sow the seeds of further debates, but Guy mussed her hair to stop her. Soon the ship docked, and all disembarked, their feet once more on dry land. It was still early spring, but it was noticeably warmer than Yelgland. Enjoying that, Oliver reminded everyone of the plan.
“We’ve reached the mainland, and today we rest. We’re currently at the northern end of Lantshire, a country known for fine dining, so we should be eating well.”
“Mmf, mmf, dlishus.”
“Holy crap, she’s already eating!” Guy yelled.
“Didn’t you eat a lot on board, Nanao?!” Katie cried.
Nanao’s cheeks were full of something from a harbor stall. While they laughed at that, Teresa’s eyes were on the surge of foot traffic around them. Oliver took a look himself.
“What’s up, Teresa?”
“…Nothing. Just…so many people,” she muttered.
Her whole world had been Kimberly, and this was a first for her—it really drove home how big the world was. Oliver stepped up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Like you and me, each person here has a life of their own. Boggles the mind, right?”
“…I feel dizzy.”
“Then by all means, take one of these,” Nanao said, stuffing a pastry in Teresa’s mouth.
She bit down almost reflexively, and her eyes lit up.
“……!”
“That might be a good start for you. But, Nanao—we still have dinner waiting.”
“Fear not! I have not used a tenth of my stomach’s capacity!”
Nanao sounded eager to fix that, and Oliver laughed, leading them to their lodgings.
“The McFarlane party? We’ve been expecting you.”
The hotel Chela had booked was not far from the port. The staff received them warmly and led them to a basement room as large as the main room of the Sword Roses’ labyrinth base. The windows offered a view of the interior garden, offsetting the gloom of the underground space. The beds were flawlessly made, and Katie gasped at the couch and table lined with welcome drinks.
“Whoa, it’s huge…!”
“This place covers a ton of ground.”
“I asked them to prepare a room Marco could stay in, too.” Chela smiled. “That said, mage hotels are accustomed to accommodating requests like this. I assure you, they were not bending over for fear of the McFarlane name, and it is not as expensive as it might look.”
Traveling with a troll meant they’d had to plan ahead. Transport and lodgings had both been tricky, but they had the knowledge and skills to work things out. They’d been especially clear that he was to be treated as an equal guest, not a familiar.
After looking the room over, they kicked back—and there was a knock at the door. All eight heads swiveled.
“Hmm, hotel staff? Come in,” Chela called.
The door opened, and the faces behind it made the friends’ eyes pop. Both newcomers were a common enough sight at Kimberly: Stacy Cornwallis and her servant, Fay Willock, looking rather uncomfortable.
“…I thought that was you guys. I could hear the ruckus down the hall.”
“Stacy?!”
“My word! You’re staying here, too?!”
Pete and Chela spoke on top of each other, moving forward.
Stacy snorted, brushing her hair back.
“A research expedition with a touch of sightseeing. I imagine you heard about this place from the same source as I did. The downside of being relatives.”
“Don’t make it sound like a bad thing, Stace,” Fay urged. “I figured we’d say hi before we bumped into each other in the hall, but we’re not gonna linger. The rooms themselves are soundproof, so don’t worry about us—just enjoy your stay.”
Fay sounded reluctant to impose, but Guy was grinning at him.
“Like we’d let you just turn tail. Right, Chela?”
Chela’s smile was equally broad. She took Stacy’s hand.
“Stace, have you had dinner?”
No reason to split up after running into compatriots abroad; their number swelled by two, for a total of ten, and they headed out to dinner. Once again, they’d reserved an entire room and needn’t hold back. Stacy and Fay put up little argument—and the reason for that emerged soon after their arrival.
“I did have other plans! I made a reservation! But when we got there, the sign on the door said it was closed on account of the chef didn’t like his hairdo!”
“Yes, yes, the Whimsical Spoon’s chef is infamously fickle,” said Chela. “But I know just why you can’t let it go, Stace. The meat there is simply divine.”
“Exactlyyy! I wanted to share it with Fay! He would’ve loved it!”
Stacy was knocking back wine like crazy, bellyaching. She and Fay had landed ahead of the Sword Roses and had slumped back to the hotel after their reservation fell through.
One eye on Stacy’s swiftly emptying glass, Guy whispered to her servant, “Yo, she’s plastered before the hors d’oeuvres… Your mistress all right?”
“This is probably for the best… When she saw the restaurant was closed, it was like the world ended. If we hadn’t spotted you, I dunno how I’d have cheered her up.”
“She must’ve really wanted to take you there.” Pete grunted. “This meal may not make up for it, but Chela picked the spot, so it oughtta be good.”
Fay nodded, taking a bite of his appetizer.
“It is good. Astoundingly good,” he said with a sigh. “This is actually my first time out of Yelgland. Stace has been a few times with family, but since they won’t take me along, she’s been refusing to leave the house. She was last at the Whimsical Spoon before any of that.”
“That’s why she wanted to bring you there, then,” Oliver said, considering Stacy’s feelings. “She really loves you, Fay.”
He smiled. Fay shot him a look. “Since you’re apparently the designated cleanup crew—how’re you gonna handle this? I mean, a trip with this gang? Their first taste of freedom in years? You have no idea how wild this could get.”
“W-well…I’m sure it’ll be fine. As long as we show a modicum of restrai—”
At this point, a pair of arms clamped around Fay’s head, to the surprise of everyone. It was Stacy, half in tears and her cheeks fully flushed.
“I’m sooooo sorry, Faaaaay! I’ll bring you there next time, I sweeeeear! Even if I have to kick the door iiiiiiin!”
“Uh-huh. I know. I hear ya, Stace…”
“I’m sorryyyyy! Wahhhhh! I love youuuuu! I love you, Faaaaay!”
Repeating this, she kissed his cheeks several times until Chela managed to pull her away. Fay buried his face in his hands as Stacy went back to emptying her glass.
“…So, uh,” Guy said. “She’s a candid drunk… That’s new.”
“…You see my point, Oliver?” Fay grumbled.
“…A little too well…”
Oliver was looking tense. Stacy would never have let herself get to this point at Kimberly, and that alone convinced him that this vacation took all the rules off the table. He could hardly call her the exception—his group was in the same exact position.
Katie had been quietly drinking her wine, one eye on Stacy and Fay, but she suddenly burst into tears with no warning.
“…Wahhhhhh…”
“Hrm?! Katie, what heralds these tears?”
“I wanna get it off my chest, but I caaan’t! Especially not with you, Nanao!”
“What a sad claim! Come, into my arms, and share away!”
“Hugging makes it worse! Aughhh! I can smell hiiiiim!”
Wrapped in her friend’s arms, Katie’s sobs turned into a shriek, and Nanao’s embrace only got tighter as she tried to sooth her.
Staring at that scene, Pete muttered, “See that, Ms. Carste? They’re really letting their hair down.”
“Fascinating.”
“Right? But once it gets like this…plunging in yourself is an option.”
With that, Pete chugged his glass. Guy stared in shock, forgetting all about soothing Katie.
“Augh?! Pete, dammit—”
“She’s all yours, Guy.”
Pete’s eyes glazed over. He poured himself a new glass of wine, stood up, and moved to where Stacy and Chela were talking.
“All right: Stacy, Fay. You’re flirting like mad, but how far’ve you gone? Inquiring minds want to know. Air that laundry.”
“Pete?!” Oliver yelped. His friend wasn’t often this forward.
Stacy’s eyes filled with tears. “We’ve gone nowheeeere! Fay won’t even touch meeee! I make him my pillow, and all he does is pat my head!”
“Stace! Water! Now!” Fay quickly poured her a cup.
“I get it.” Pete nodded. “That’s exactly how I feel about the guy who regularly spends the entire night with his hands all over me.”
With that, he spun around, filling the largest tankard on the table with wine with a ferocity that intimidated Oliver.
“…Pete, that’s, uh, a lot of—”
“It’s for you, Oliver.”
Pete held out the very full mug. Oliver flinched backward.
“Uh, I don’t think—”
“Duty demands you drink here, yes?”
There was a steely glint in Pete’s eyes. He wasn’t brooking arguments. No one around them tried to stop him.
Oliver waffled a moment longer, then accepted the mug. He sighed—and chugged the contents.
“…Urp…”
“Good boy, Oliver,” Pete said, arm around Oliver’s shoulders. “If you pass out drunk, I’ll nurse you through it. You taught me how to heal, and I’ll keep that tender touch going till dawn’s early light.”
Chela leaped to her feet, hand raised.
“That sounds delightful! I must join you! Pete, you handle the lower half; I’ll handle the upper!”
“When’d you get smashed, Chela?!” Guy yelled. “Hoo boy, I can see where this mess is headed. We’re all gonna end up passing out, and Marco’s gonna have to carry us back to the hotel.”
Oliver agreed with that completely. Drinking too much on vacation had a ripple effect and was letting pent-up frustrations erupt willy-nilly. Chela would normally have joined him in settling things, but she was just adding fuel to the fire. This was shaping up to be a wild party. Half of them were drunk already. Only he and Guy were still clinging to their senses—but at least Teresa and Marco weren’t drinking at all.
“Unh, I can do that, Guy. I don’t drink.”
“You’re our last shred of hope!” Guy wailed, tearing his hair out. “Fine! I’m getting drunk my damn self. Let’s knock back beers till we forget everything that happens!”
At this point, Katie freed herself from Nanao and came staggering over.
“Guyyyyy! Heeeeelp! The smell! Oliver’s smelllllll!”
“Here comes the primary instigator! Okay, okay, my lap’s reserved for you.”
“Ahhhhh… Guy, your scent’s so soothinggg.”
“Yo, Greenwood, you coddle her like that, it’s gonna come back to haunt you!”
“Don’t act like you got the right to lecture nobody, wolfman! Take your own girl up on her offer before you go offering unsolicited advice to everyone else!”
Fighting words, and Pete was busy filling both boys’ wineglasses.
Watching the alcohol-fueled banter fly, Teresa took a sip of her juice.
“…Why are humans so foolish?” she whispered.
“Unh, good question,” Marco said, tipping back his own oversized mug.
Oliver fought valiantly to get things under control, but his efforts were mocked, and the revelry only intensified.
Five hours of drink after drink with no signs of the energy waning. Closing time arrived, and the group was nigh forcibly ejected and left wandering the streets, heads still swimming.
“What a glorious evening! Come one and all! Where shall we drink next?!”
“I vote somewhere up high! Consider that roof yonder!”
“The hotel! I’ve given up on stopping you, but I’m begging you to make it our room!”
Oliver had managed to retain enough of his faculties to insist on this point. If they tumbled into some other bar, the future held only disgraces; at least in the basement suite, they’d retain a modicum of privacy. This was the last means of control afforded to him.
His own head was swimming, but he fought to corral the drunks.
Teresa slipped next to him. “…How are you?” she asked.
“…Hoping the ground opens up so I can sleep. But I’m not giving up here!”
He gritted his teeth, groaning, and Teresa nodded once. Much about this escaped her, but clearly this was a hill her lord planned to die on.
Inside the hotel, the party raged on. Sending familiars out with orders provided endless deliveries of alcohol, and the revelers consequently forgot all about the time.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! What was that move?! Who does that in the center of the enemy camp?!”
“Don’t knock it! That’s the Greenwood secret deep-end watchtower. Made a huge impact in a wild tournament back on version fifteen!”
“Awwwww, but countermeasures have long since been discovered. You just do this, this, and this, and then it all comes tumbling down!”
“No advice from the sidelines, Chela! You do that again, I’ll give you a silencing hug!”
“Sounds lovely! No downsides for me!”
A game of magic chess was provoking furious debate, but when Guy started paying too much attention to that, the curly-haired girl on his lap started fussing.
“Wahhhhh! Guy’s abandoning meeee!”
“I’m not, dammit! You see how big these arms are?! I can hold two of you at once!”
“But you’ve only got one rod! Snort… Hur-hur… Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Fay, your mistress just fell off a chair laughing at her own dirty joke,” Pete whispered. “How’s that make you feel?”
“Like I regret being born with ears. Please, top me up.”
“Rods? Pray tell, what does fishing have to do with it?” Nanao looked baffled. Much of Stacy’s drunken “humor” was lost on her.
Oliver had bailed to Marco’s lap, trying to sober up, and Teresa was soaking in the view from a perch on the troll’s shoulder.
“…All I can say here is: Don’t let the drink drink you,” Oliver cautioned.
“The drunk seem to be having a very good time.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Oliver rubbed his forehead. “That’s what makes it so terrifying.”
Chela was climbing up Marco’s knee.
“Oliverrrrrr! Don’t act like this is beneath you!”
“Ugh…fine! I’m in. I might not like magic chess much, but I know how to play…”
“Oooh, grand! But tell me—what penalty should the loser incurrrr?”
“A kiss! Loser has to kiss the victor!”
“Pete?! You’re still in that mood?!”
“I’ll kill anyone who kisses Fay!”
“Down, Stace! Put that wand away! We’re staying out of this one!”
Fay had Stacy in a full nelson, stopping her. Egged on by the drunks around her, Chela got the board set, and Oliver threw himself into a duel he could not afford to lose.
Oliver clung on for dear life; the battle was a long one. Kicking his dulled brain into action, he desperately fended off Chela’s assault, glaring at the board in agony.
“…Gah…! Are you really even drunk, Chela?!”
“Veryyyyyy. But magic chess is never a game of logic! The moves you make are faaaar too serious.”
“Painfully true… But I can’t lose here!”
She was moving on instinct alone, and it took every last wit he had to hold fast. But then Chela realized the room had gone silent. The revelers cheering on their game were now asleep on the floor. Teresa and Marco had stayed above the fray, but both were nodding off together. It was past four AM, and high time for everyone to hit the hay.
“Oh dear… When did they fall asleep? We’re all alone,” said Chela.
“It’s almost dawn. They should be in bed. I never saw it coming. Didn’t think you’d all go this wild on day one.”
Oliver finally made his move, allowing himself a smile.
“…But at least you’re actually having fun,” he added. “You’ve been forcing things a bit since that mess at the combat league.”
That remark took Chela’s breath away.
She’d believed she’d shown no signs of being bothered by her father’s slap to her face. So many other memorable events had come and gone, and she’d imagined the incident was buried beneath them in the minds of her friends. But Oliver had been keeping an eye on her. Despite everything else he had on his plate.
“…That’s not true. I’ve sorted myself out. Why my father punished me, my own shortcomings. I’m not dragging that around.”
“That’s one thing when the others are watching. But you’re allowed to gripe with me. Clashes with family always fester. I’ve had…similar experiences.”
Oliver’s mind went to his time with his father under the Sherwoods. The nature and specifics varied, but both these mages knew the same darkness. His understanding and sympathy came across and warmed Chela’s heart—yet they also saddened her. It was tantamount to taking fleeting relief in finding someone else knee-deep in the same quagmire.
And her wandering thoughts affected her game. A piece she’d moved on impulse made him smile.
“…At last, you expose yourself. I’m turning the tables, Chela.”
“Oops—”
Oliver didn’t let that go unpunished. He turned the battle around. Chela saw no way to regain control.
“Time we wrap things up,” Oliver said. “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us. Get some sleep, Chela.”
She glanced at her empty cup. “…You’ve got dirt on you, Oliver.”
“Mm? Do I?”
“Stay put.”
With that, she leaned over the board, grabbed Oliver’s unguarded shoulder, her other hand reaching for his chest—and slid it up, slipping around the back of his head.
“ !”
By the time he realized her intent, she’d pulled him in, her lips on his. Time stopped. Chela’s sweet scent tickled his nostrils, the softness of her lips leaving him stunned—and then she pulled away.
“…Just tell yourself the drink got the best of me.”
With that excuse, she turned and laid down, putting her arms around Katie on the opposite side from Guy.
Oliver was left watching, unable to speak.
“…Hardly fair, Chela…,” he said at last.
One hell of a last-minute ambush. With that thought, he let his own mind slip away.
He was not allowed to sleep for long. Oliver woke before noon and went around shaking everyone awake. They sent Stacy and Fay back to their own room, then gathered up their belongings, pushing each other out of the hotel. Even on the road to the harbor, Guy and Katie looked half dead.
“…My head’s killing me…”
“…I can barely move…”
“Yeah, that is what happens,” Oliver said, completely unsympathetic.
The two of them were at least walking on their own two feet; Marco had been forced to carry Pete. Even Chela was still in bad enough shape that she wasn’t talking much. An extremely concerning start to their second day, so Oliver chose to be extra strict.
“We drank enough to kill any nonmagical person. I’d rather spend the day in bed myself. But we’ve got a ship to catch. We’ve gotta get to the dock, even if we have to crawl there.”
“Indeed!” Nanao said, striding cheerily forward.
Oliver shook his head. She’d drunk as much as anyone, but she alone had been in high spirits the moment she awoke.
“I can’t believe you’re unaffected. Not even a smidgen?”
“None at all! Though having the world spin like that was certainly novel.”
“So you’re a sponge… How many ways must you be like my moth—?”
Oliver’s lips had loosened too much, and he caught the word as it slipped out. He hastily looked away, but Nanao came right over to him, eyes wide.
“Oliver…? What was that?”
“…Nothing.”
“A bolt from the blue! Do I really remind you of your mother?”
“You didn’t hear that!”
Nanao wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.
“…Put me down,” Pete said, patting Marco’s arm. “I can walk from here.”
As Pete landed, Katie and Guy spoke up.
“I think I’m getting better…”
“Same. Ugh, that was rough.”
“You are all mages,” Chela said, smiling. “Even at that quantity of drink, the hangover does not last long.”
Oliver looked relieved, but Katie was rubbing her head.
“My memories are pretty fuzzy… Did I say anything weird?”
“Don’t worry,” Guy told her. “Eventually, everyone was saying weird stuff. You were pretty out there but still better than most. Right, Pete?”
Guy shot Pete a look, but the bespectacled boy merely snorted and started walking faster. He was clearly aware he’d overdone it that night, but since that had been a conscious choice on his part, he wasn’t so inclined to regret it. Catching that intent, Guy grinned and glanced back at their hotel.
“I’m more worried about them. Willock’s probably fine, but let’s just hope Cornwallis remembers none of it.”
“…Agreed,” Oliver muttered.
Every word Stacy had uttered would come back to haunt her. Accordingly, pandemonium already held sway back in their hotel room—but the Sword Roses were blissfully unaware.
They barely made it to their ship in time to board. As it pulled out of the harbor—the same they’d arrived at—they breathed a sigh of relief, basking in the sea breeze on deck.
“…Thank god we’re taking ships. I am not ready to ride a broom.”
“The changes in scenery keep things fresh. The wheat fields of Lantshire are always a sight to behold,” Chela said, gazing at the shore.
“Marco,” Teresa piped up. “Let’s take a look over there.”
“Mm.”
Marco wandered off, Teresa on his shoulder. Two very different size frames.
“…When’d they get so close?” Guy wondered aloud. “Do silent types just naturally bond?”
“They spent all last night sober.” Oliver smiled. “I imagine that did the trick.”
It was a good sign, he thought. Getting out of the school and forming new connections would be good for her. Arguably the reason he’d wanted to bring her along.
But the combo of an oversized demi-human and a tiny little girl certainly drew attention. He voiced a concern on that front.
“Just…we might need to watch out for Marco. This is a bigger ship, so we won’t have it all to ourselves—and people will notice him.”
“We had him dress up to look less intimidating, but that’s just making people curious. Should we have our wands visible to keep the onlookers at bay?” Chela offered.
“That’s…a last resort,” Katie said. “I know this is just me not wanting them to think he’s a familiar…”
She knew that was a faint hope. Even with no mages in sight, a troll in a place like this? People would assume he was a familiar—or worse, a slave. The fancy outfit would merely make them assume his owner was eccentric.
But both Oliver and Chela agreed there was meaning to it. At the very least, they knew Marco himself got how Katie felt.
Meanwhile, Teresa was surprised to find herself enjoying riding Marco’s shoulder around the deck. She had a great view—mostly of the ocean—and everyone she passed was giving them odd looks. That made her uncomfortable at first, but she soon saw the appeal.
“Your shoulder provides an excellent view, Marco.”
“Unh, good. Teresa, you usually struggle to see?”
Marco kept his voice to a whisper. No one outside Kimberly knew he could speak, so they’d practiced conversing like this for these particular circumstances. One reason Teresa was on his shoulder was to make communication easier.
“I do sometimes, sure. I mostly observe from the shadows, so this is an all-new perspective.”
Marco smiled. Arguably neither one of them knew much about the world at large.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see the world of humans like this. Not in the forest or after I was taken to Kimberly.”
“…Is it a good thing?”
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t feel bad.”
Sharing these ideas, they wandered on—until a spiteful voice cut in.
“Huh? What the—? Why’s there a troll on deck?”
Teresa and Marco looked toward the voice and found a cross-looking man, arms folded. He wore an expensive looking jacket and shiny leather shoes, but the effect was less fashionable than trying really hard to be taken seriously.
“Yo, big guy, you’re blocking the hall. You belong below deck.”
“Mm? Below deck?”
“There’s plenty of space for you to pass us,” Teresa called. “We’re objectively not in your way. Or are you perhaps blind?”
The man took off his sunglasses, glaring up at her.
“Don’t go sneering at your betters from on high, li’l lady. I’m representing a real big merchant, so while I’m still feeling like a gentleman, you tell your thick-headed buddy he don’t belong up here.”
“Mystifying. Should I shut up him?”
“Unh, Teresa, no.”
She was inclined to settle things Kimberly-style, but Marco just turned back the way he’d come.
“Well, ain’t he well-behaved.” The man snorted. “Shoulda done that in the first place.”
Marco said nothing. That just riled Teresa up. She wanted to run back and blast the man with a spell but was hesitant to do so while the actual victim was taking it in stride.
Maybe he had much deeper thoughts on this than she did. That was the impression her oversized friend gave.
“Oh, you’re back?” Katie said, meeting them with a smile.
Recalling his exchange with the man just now, Marco asked, “Katie. What’s below? Can I see?”
Everyone’s smiles faded. Teresa remembered what that man had said—that Marco belonged below deck. Rather than the insult implied, Marco had wondered if there were others of his kind on board.
“Yeah, let’s go. I’d always planned to show you this,” Katie told him, nodding.
She led the way, and the others followed.
The ship was expansive, and their destination was five floors down. Where truths lay hidden from the cheery deck.
“…Yikes…”
A number of trolls sat in a row along a dimly lit space. Oars as big as they were rested nearby; slotted through holes in the wall, these oars could reach into the water below. Much like the galleys the ordinaries of old employed.
“…Troll oarsmen,” Oliver explained. “No work for them at the moment, but depending on the port, they might have to row to the dock after leaving the primary current. They’re kept aboard as labor in those eventualities.”
If a mage was piloting the ship, they’d just put wind elementals to work, but that didn’t apply to most ships on this channel. They’d need to reach the docks themselves, and trolls had the strength to row them there. Naturally, they were called upon to help with cargo, too.
“…Can’t call these conditions good,” Guy growled, glancing around the gloom. “No windows, low ceilings—they’d bump their heads if they stood up.”
“Still better than some,” Pete muttered. “I’ve heard of ships that don’t even let them use the bathroom.”
Marco was gazing at this in silence, and Katie stepped closer to him.
“Sorry to bring you somewhere so unpleasant, Marco. But I felt you should see this,” she told him. “The magic industrial revolution certainly changed all our lives. It enriched the lifestyles of ordinaries, too. But…that’s very much propped up by exploiting demi-humans.”
Internally, Oliver nodded at these harsh words.
It was an undeniable fact of magical culture. Once, only a few mages had goblins or orcs at their beck and call—but now their entire species were forced to work for humans.
“This is a fact of life. The reality of life as a demi-human that has not been granted civil rights. What you make of it, how you feel about it—I was hoping this journey would give you some food for thought.”
Her intentions made known, Katie balled up her fists.
“All I can say for sure is…there’s nothing I can do here. Sorry. Be mad if you like.”
“…I’m not mad, Katie,” Marco said, shaking his head. “This isn’t your fault.”
The others watched in silence—until they heard screams up above.
“ ? What was that?”
“Something going on upstairs. Let’s take a look.”
They all nodded and headed back to the deck.
The mood on deck was no longer relaxed; the very air felt tense.
“I said put yer hands up! One false move, and we’ll throw ya overboard!”
Masked men brandishing blades, bellowing orders. Passengers cowering in fear. So much for a relaxing vacation—violence and terror now reigned supreme.
“This ship’s cargo belongs to us! Would love to sell the lot of ya, but we dunno no slavers. Catch my drift? You ain’t worth shit! You rank lower than any crate in the hold! So don’t give us no trouble. Trash gets in our way, it goes in the river.”
The thief banged the back of his blade on the railing for emphasis. But where the others quivered in panic, one man stepped forward, beside himself. The same man who’d sneered at Marco.
“H-hey, wait a sec! I’m from Barbier Shipping. We got our hands in all trade around here. Loads of mages work for us! Try something here, and you’ll—”
He attempted to invoke authority but got himself punched in the face instead.
“So where are those mages? You wanna get thrown out like the trash? Say another word, and I’ll do exactly that.”
“…Gah…”
With a knife to his throat, the man’s knees buckled. His hands went up. The rest of the passengers were too scared to try anything, and the thieves now had control.
Pete’s scout golems were watching this from the air above, relaying the footage to the others through his wand.
“…A hijacking? Of all the ships to pick!” Chela looked appalled.
Oliver grimaced, arms crossed. There were several unconscious thieves at their feet already; they’d bumped into each other on their way to the deck and fought back when the thieves attacked them.
“I heard ships like this were frequent targets, but it’s still very bad luck,” Oliver noted. “Maybe more so for them.”
“No mages involved with the ship’s operations. Which makes this a job for us,” Guy said.
Oliver took another look through the golems.
The thieves had been mingling with the passengers and had taken down the ship’s own guards first thing. The only other threat was the trolls, but they’d been forbidden to set foot on deck, and even if they did run up and fight, that might just sink the ship. The sight of Marco walking around the deck must have rattled the thieves, which was probably why they’d chosen to act once he vanished below deck. The thieves Oliver and his friends had knocked out might have been trying to take down Marco, figuring he could be controlled if they subdued the children with him.
“…They’re pulling the crew from the bridge to the deck,” Nanao said. “The thieves are few in number; what we see is likely all of them.”
“Yeah, and with the ship hugging the cliff face, they must have a strategy to get the cargo ashore,” Oliver added, assessing their plan.
Piracy was a perennial problem all along the shipping routes, but these waterways covered every inch of the Union, and it was hard to keep the length of them secure. Ships carrying wealthy passengers might have mages on guard duty or plenty of familiars, but since they were mages themselves, the Sword Roses had chosen a lower-grade vessel—and paid the price for it.
“Suppressing this should be simple. Spread out as we hit the deck—”
“W-wait!” Katie said. “There might be a peaceful solution! Let me try talking to them.”
Everyone looked at each other. Oliver thought this through, then nodded. Odds of success weren’t high, but even if she failed, they could handle it.
They put Marco on standby on the stairs, and Katie led the group up to the deck. They were swiftly spotted.
“Yo, kids!” a thief yelled, brandishing a blade. “Who said you could walk around? Do you not have eyes?!”
Katie turned toward him. “Oh, um, are you a pirate?” She then whispered, “How was that…?”
“Aren’t pirates at sea? This is a man-made river,” Pete pointed out.
“I singularly doubt that’s our first concern here,” Chela said with a sigh.
None of them looked scared, which seemed to infuriate the thief. He advanced on them, roaring, “Quit that whispering! Put yer hands up! On the floor!”
“Right, we’re actually—”
“Ain’t you got ears?!”
Katie was reaching for her wand, and the thief’s fist connected with her cheek. There was a nasty crack—not from Katie’s cheek, but from the thief’s wrist.
“Hh—?!”
He staggered back, clutching it. Katie stared at him, then rubbed her cheek.
“…Huh?” she murmured. “Was that a punch? Not a pat?”
This made the thief gape at her.
Katie had just done what she always did. She’d used balance control to stabilize her upright stance and had the mana circulation around her cheek prepare for the blow. It was almost reflexive at this point, not even worth calling defense, let alone an attack. But that was more than enough to shatter the wrist of an ordinary thief who’d been deceived by her appearance.
Oliver sighed, reaching into his own coat. No wonder none of the mages had been stressing this. Their instincts alone had told them: The creatures before them could not possibly pose a threat.
“Enough, Katie. It’s time.”
“““““Impediendum.”””””
Spells chased their voices—and the nearby thieves collapsed.
“Huh?”
The thief who’d punched Katie blinked—all seven students had vanished. Racing down the deck at speeds too fast for ordinary eyes to follow, knocking out every foe they saw.
“Er… Um?”
“…No way! Why are there mages—?”
“H-hostages—we need hostages! Doesn’t matter who, just take someone—”
Realizing their predicament, the thieves tried shielding themselves behind passengers. But Guy’s, Pete’s, and Nanao’s wands got in the way.
“Should’ve thought that through first,” Pete scoffed. “You’re way too slow. Are you even trying?”
His spell knocked out the thief before him. Half their number was eliminated already; Oliver was up on the bridge.
“Oliver Horn, Kimberly fourth-year, calling all thieves on board.”
He held his wand high, keeping his voice utterly calm. Frightened eyes turned his way.
“Fight us all you like. But remember—we’re used to fighting other mages. We’re not really sure how easily a nonmagical will die. Let that fact inform your decision here.”
Words from on high that resonated. Thief after thief dropped their weapons and put their hands up, slumping to the ground. The only choice. They’d been targeting an ordinaries’ vessel and were not equipped to battle any mages.
“Wise decision. I take it you’re the leader—what’s your call?”
The one man who hadn’t dropped his weapon was the same thief who’d punched Katie. The man closed his eyes a few seconds—then quivered with fury.
“Fuck it!”
He lunged forward, grabbing a nearby passenger: the man who’d sneered at Teresa and Marco.
Forgetting the pain in his wrist, the thief held his blade to the man’s throat.
“…Not happening… This ain’t happening! I’m gonna be posting results on this turf! I’ll be a made man! I worked my way up from the lowest rung…!”
The future he spoke of was already lost. Pete almost pitied him.
“…Do I take the shot, Oliver?” he asked, aiming his wand.
Oliver shook his head. “No need.”
The thief had been too preoccupied with the mages before him to notice the shadow looming overhead until oversized fingers grabbed his blade.
“Ah—”
“Knives are bad,” Marco whispered—so low it sounded like a growl.
The thief released both his weapon and his hostage, trying to flee, but then Guy got an arm around his neck.
“H—”
“Trash goes in the river, right? Your words.”
He hefted the thief’s body, dangling him over the railing. The thief let out a shriek, well aware of what happened to any human who fell into the currents of these waterways. Except he’d been the one doing the dumping.
“I gotta disagree,” Guy said. “Trash goes in the trash cans, or you bring it home with you.”
Having scared him enough, Guy pulled him back on deck and dropped him. All fight had left the thief, and he crumpled.
“Suppression complete,” Oliver said. “I’ll watch from up here; check to make sure there’s no stragglers on the lower decks.”
“Gladly!”
“At once.”
Nanao and Teresa dashed off. It didn’t take much time for peace to be restored.
The thieves were bound with rope and thrown in the brig. With that, the commotion came to an end, and the ship returned to its intended route. Freed from fear, the passengers looked relieved—and since the mages had made that possible, the hubbub on deck was every bit as loud as when they’d just set out.
“Marco, you okay? You sure you didn’t hurt yourself?” Katie asked.
“Unh, I’m fine. That can’t cut my fingers.”
“It’s a mass-produced knife, no magical enhancements,” Chela proclaimed. “Cutting troll skin was too much to ask.”
None of them had gone up against nonmagical thieves before, and it had been far too easy a task compared to the most basic mage-on-mage scuffle at Kimberly. They’d had more trouble not accidentally going too far.
“Th-thank you, mages!”
“We won’t forget this! How can we ever repay you…?”
“Don’t worry about it. Handling incidents on board is part of our passenger contracts. We’re just relieved nobody got hurt.”
Oliver was handling the line of grateful passengers. Katie certainly appreciated this but felt like they were leaving someone out.
“…They could thank Marco, too. He put himself on the line!”
“Forget about it,” Guy said. “They don’t know he can understand them.”
A whole slew of passengers came to thank the seven mages. Marco was right there with them, but no one approached, acting like they couldn’t even see him. They weren’t scared of him or anything; they simply didn’t register him as someone worth thanking.
Katie bit her lip. If they knew Marco could talk, she had to hope that would change their tune. Guy kept one eye on her—once Oliver finished handling the line, he spoke up.
“That threat was hella effective, Oliver. You rehearse that?”
“Mm? Oh, that’s just a classic line to urge nonmagical foes to surrender.” Oliver shrugged. “I threw Kimberly’s name in there for added punch. Even if they had a mage hidden on their side, odds were that would have made them give up.”
He’d anticipated traveling with this crew might get them in trouble; this had been one such situation. Oliver glanced at the other passengers, then at the girl beside him.
“How is he, Teresa?”
“It’s done. Bruises, a few cuts in the mouth.”
She put her wand away. At her feet was the one passenger who’d sustained any injuries—the man who’d tried to talk them down, been hit for his troubles, then taken hostage in the leader’s last stand. He got back up, rubbing his cheek, eyes on Teresa.
“…That hurt like hell,” he said. “Payback?”
“Nobody said to make it painless.”
“…Ha-ha. Fair enough.”
That was a listless laugh. He turned to the others.
“…My life ain’t worth much, but the cargo I got aboard is. I ain’t gonna forget who saved it, and I will pay you back someday, young mages.”
“Thank you. I might add that Barbier Shipping has a long-standing relationship with the McFarlanes. I’ll pass your words on to my father.”
“…You’re a client? Ha-ha-ha, that’ll get expensive.” He scratched his head, then let out a long sigh. “Right—yo, big man!”
“Unh?”
Marco turned, surprised.
“Did I hear you speak earlier?” the man said, staring up at him. “Nah, couldn’t be. Must’ve been hearing things.”
But he walked up to Marco anyway, patting his arm.
“You saved my ass. I won’t call you thickheaded again. I was the one being a dumbass. Same to you, little lady. Sorry I insulted your friend.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Oliver looked at Teresa.
“…Something happen with him?”
“…Nothing important,” she said, running it over in her mind. “It’s sorted out now.”
Evening that same day, Guy and Katie left the cabins, watching the sun set over a whole new land.
There were other passengers around, but they’d given the mages a wide berth since they’d revealed themselves. Mages invoked awe and fear; no one wanted to stand too close. This was how ordinary passengers and mages often were, but the change still made Guy grimace.
“…Guess we don’t need to hide our wands. That does make things easier, I suppose. Certainly, nobody’s gonna mess with Marco now.”
“…Yeah, but…” Katie leaned against the railing, the red glow of the sky reflected in her eyes. “…I wish we’d been able to keep up the pretense a while longer.”
Guy sighed, then pulled her close.
“…Eep…!”
“You’re thinking too much. Go on, take a good whiff.”
“ !”
Katie flushed beet red, but then she returned the hug.
From the far side of the deck, Pete whispered, “He’s certainly not holding back.”
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Chela smiled. “Watching them warms my heart.”
Like Guy and Katie, the other passengers were keeping their distance, as if there was an invisible wall around them.
“…Still, one step outside of Kimberly, and this happens. No one dares approach. I suppose it’s understandable, but…”
“For better or for worse, we’re not like them. Can’t go back to pretending we’re just regular passengers.” Pete shrugged, eyes on the sunset. Then he smirked. “But who cares? As long as we’re all together, none of that matters.”
Chela smiled, moved behind him, and put her arms around his shoulders.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login