Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 11 - Chapter 2.2

The next day, Freya left with both the Lulled Sea and her retinue, as promised, for Valentia. Considering she had attended the party the night before as well, it was a fair burden on her.

Zenjirou could have teleported Freya and Skaji if it was just them going—and he had indeed made the offer—but Freya had refused decisively.

That was to be expected, really. The Lulled Sea could change the fate of the Glasir’s Leaf, and conveying such precious cargo personally was a natural stance to take.

The unexpected thing was that Lucretia had asked to accompany them. According to her, since the Broglie family had been its custodians, she could be of use in instructing them on its operation.

It was a logical argument, and beneficial to Freya, so the princess had no choice but to accept. Lucretia purposely moving away from her target (Zenjirou) in the capital was merely following Freya’s advice: if she wanted to marry Zenjirou, it was important that she win the favor of Aura, his legitimate wife. Additionally, if the marriage was to the benefit of Capua—country and family alike—Aura would accept it. Demonstrating her own value in this way was, in a certain respect, a rather admirable act.

Whatever the case, Lucretia was departing with Freya. Zenjirou, on the other hand, was still busy within the capital.

Today, he would be sitting in on a meeting between one of the guests from the Twin Kingdoms—Fiqriya of the Animeeum family—and the leading Capuan mage, head mage of the court, Espiridion.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the former greeted the latter. “I am Fiqriya, carrier of the name of Animeeum from the Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle. I could ask for no greater honor than to meet you, Sir Espiridion. You are famed across the continent for your skill in magic.”

As she spoke, Fiqriya bowed her head, letting her relatively short hair fall forward slightly. Her dark eyes were sparkling, and there was unquestionable energy to her tone.

Zenjirou was only an acquaintance at best, but his opinion of her was that of a cool and collected intellectual, so it was rather surprising to see her this way. The beautiful woman’s cheeks were flushed slightly as she smiled. If she had been opposite a man around her own age, it might have led to their imagination getting away from them, but fortunately, the man across from her was an elderly sage.

“I am likewise honored to hear that, Lady Fiqriya. I am Espiridion, the leader of Capua’s court mages.”

With his conversation partner being a high noble from another country, Espiridion’s reply was polite. Fiqriya seemed slightly ill-at-ease with his behavior and frowned.

“Please, you need not speak so formally with me. I am here as a researcher who has reached an impasse. I would have your candid and honest opinions,” she said with an intent look.

Espiridion weathered her gaze, stroking his beard once before laughing heartily. “You need not worry there. I am not proud of it, but this old man has yet to let a word go unsaid in a magic discussion, whomever I am speaking with.”

The dark-haired girl’s smile widened. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Of course, an overly formal way of speaking will certainly interfere in a proper debate. If you are willing, I can speak in the same way I usually would.”

“I would like nothing more.” She nodded with a grin.

“Very well. Then let us speak not of status, but unreservedly, as two people unraveling the mysteries of magic.” As he spoke, he gave an even more unreserved smile.

It seemed like the two of them had fairly positive impressions of each other from the introductions. Relieved, Zenjirou cleared his throat to draw their attention and spoke.

“You seem to be done with your greetings. I am simply providing the space to meet. I do not have the knowledge to follow high-level magic discussions, so pay me no further mind and continue as you both wish.”

“Very well, Sir Zenjirou.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The mage and researcher bowed in unison. Still, despite telling them to pay him no mind, it was hard to forget when there was someone of a much higher station so nearby. At first, Fiqriya’s gaze was constantly flicking to where Zenjirou was seated. However, once she received Espiridion’s corrections on her documents, she completely forgot the younger of the two men.

“I should return this first. I did not have much time, so I have only looked it over once.”

Fiqriya gulped upon receiving her work back. “Could I ask for your opinion?” she asked after a pause.

The mage shrugged slightly as she chewed her lip nervously. “‘Naive’ would be how I summed it up. There were at least three mistakes in the rules of the language, and likely two more, with another possible one. If I were taking you on as an apprentice, I would have you review your fundamentals in that respect first.”

“I see...” She was clearly somewhat discouraged by his harsher-than-expected summation.

“However, there was mention of a new rule that I was unaware of. Rather impressive. The lack of time meant that I could only verify it in simple cases, but I believe it to be correct. I am deeply intrigued by how you arrived at that conclusion. Would you be willing to explain while you correct the mistakes?”

“Of course. Please wait a moment.”

That exchange reenergized her, and she immediately turned her gaze to the document. The periodic circlings, double lines, and additional notes were probably the older man’s comments. While having her opus so heavily marked up was probably disheartening, her curiosity seemed to overwhelm her when taking into account the mage’s renown.

“This part... Oh, I see. Indeed, you are quite right. These three locations are my mistakes—no, my lack of knowledge. It does not make a perfect rule. As for the point you praised...that was the rule regarding water magic. My family is a leading figure in water magic, so I have a firm foundation there.”

She almost seemed to be denying it was her own ability, simply shaking her head with a chagrined look. Espiridion raised a single white eyebrow as he listened.

“Hm? I did think that there was a relatively large amount of material on water magic. I believe it was followed by earth, then around the same levels of wind and fire.”

“Indeed. That is the rough breakdown of my leanings, so my knowledge of the language is along similar lines.”

By that point, the two of them had completely forgotten about Zenjirou’s presence and began speaking in earnest. The main conversation was Fiqriya asking a question and Espiridion answering it, but their roles reversed on several occasions when they discussed water magic.

They seemed to have reached a stopping point when Espiridion took a sip of the now lukewarm tea and let out a satisfied sigh.

“It has been a while since I have had such a stimulating discussion. Youth today are focused solely on learning spells, with far too few interested in the language itself. I see you are far more promising in that respect.”

Fiqriya chuckled. “Thank you. Learning magic, becoming proficient in magic, or developing new magic are all activities that expand individual or collective abilities, so it is hardly a surprise that many are drawn in that direction. However, the language forms the foundation of all of that, and deepening one’s understanding of it can pave the way for further magic, so I believe we should place more importance on it,” she agreed.

Espiridion’s complaints and Fiqriya’s rueful agreement made Zenjirou think back to his lessons with Octavia. The requirements for a successful spell were the correct pronunciation, the correct amount of mana, and the correct visualization. Conversely, one could say that if you knew the correct pronunciation, mana amount, and visualization, the spirits would do anything.

The bottleneck there, though, was the research into the language that the two had been lamenting. The magic language was difficult. A short sound contained many meanings, and a simple difference could change the meaning utterly.

Additionally, the language commonly had completely different pronunciations for words when they were in the present tense, present continuous tense, past progressive tense, and future progressive tense. Depressingly, the same held true for numbers.

All of this was Zenjirou’s subjective feeling, but he’d say that it would be ten times harder to learn the language of magic’s numbers than someone learning Japanese as a second language would find it.

In Japanese, if you took the numbers one to ten, the first three were simple. They were usually just read as ichi, ni, and san. After that, though, four was commonly read as either yon or shi. Five and six were simply go and roku, but seven could be either nana or shichi.

Additionally, the same number was used in different ways depending on what you were counting.

Pigs were counted with hiki after the main number, cows with tou, and birds with wa. Rabbits used the same as birds, but pens used hon, books used satsu, and paper used mai.

With hiki, one through three became ippiki, nihiki, and sanbiki. The pronunciation morphed depending on the number.

If the way the sounds morphed was consistent, it would have been one thing, but tou was ittou, nitou, and santou—not sandou. With wa, it was ichiwa, and niwa, the wa pronunciation didn’t change even for “one.” The issue, though, was that while sanwa was fine, sanba wasn’t wrong either.

He found it rather understandable that learning how to properly count in Japanese on one’s own rather than learning from someone who already knew it was seen as horribly difficult. The changes that numbers underwent in the language of magic, however, were easily ten times that of Japanese. It almost let him imagine how difficult fumbling out a new spell could be.

While the soul of language meant you heard “eleven offerings of mana,” there were nearly a hundred different ways that even the word “eleven” could be said. Deciphering the language was akin to drawing up a distribution map for every living thing in the sea.

While it should, in theory, be finite, human intellect would probably never see its end, even after generations.

“This word, saltwater, is rather intriguing,” Espiridion said. “Its restrictions mean it is of little practical utility, but it seems like it would be a drop-in replacement for most water spells. I gave your saltwater manipulation spell a trial and it certainly functioned.”

“Indeed. While water creation was, naturally, incompatible, with water manipulation, simply replacing the word ‘water’ with ‘saltwater’ and adjusting the costs accordingly made the spell function as expected.”

“Quite. While the water manipulation spell itself can also function on saltwater, the specialized spell uses far less mana. It seems safe to say that the more limited the compatible targets of a spell are, the less mana it uses.”

“I believe so, yes.”

The elderly sage and potential sage’s cheery conversation was unsurprisingly mostly outside of Zenjirou’s ability to understand. However, the small parts he did understand seemed to be contradictory to him.

His doubts must have shown on his face, because as the conversation ebbed, Espiridion seemed to suddenly notice his presence and turn the conversation to him.

“Oh, Sir Zenjirou. Is something on your mind? I will happily answer if I am able.”

Fiqriya’s gaze turned to evaluate him at the same time. He felt it would be ruder not to say anything at this point, so he simply spoke his mind. “There is. It is nothing major, but I had a thought. If I understood you correctly, then Fiqriya’s research is incorrect in several places, no? Yet spells using those hypotheses work correctly?” Zenjirou felt it was similar to someone learning the wrong formula for a problem and yet somehow getting the correct answer.

The older man smiled happily at his question. “Ah, that is one of the trickier parts of the language. While from a broader perspective, Fiqriya’s hypotheses break down, they are valid in some ways. Applying specialized hypotheses to everything is the wrong way to research the language, but it is an effective tool for finding new spells.”

“I see,” Zenjirou said, doing his best to follow the sage’s explanation.

It actually seemed somewhat similar to the relationship between Newtonian mechanics, the theory of relativity, and quantum mechanics. According to Newtonian mechanics, if you applied a constant acceleration to something, it would eventually exceed the speed of light. In reality, though, it never could.

In other words, you could say that the explanation was wrong, but outside of particle accelerators, everything on Earth could be predicted through it. That was why it was still used despite people knowing that it was “wrong.”

Zenjirou could see how a similar thought process could mean that Fiqriya’s hypotheses were wrong and yet would allow him to use a new spell. “I see. Then—and this is just a proposal—but why should those specialized examples not be announced as-is? With a disclaimer that they are, in fact, limited, that is.”

The other two gave rather reluctant reactions.

“I would not refuse were you to order it, but I would be against it. Simple spell developers would use it to form all kinds of spells that fell within it. It is hardly pleasant to think about them using the hard-earned—and fundamentally flawed—results of Fiqriya’s research to simply create new spells.”

The woman in question was rather taken aback by someone addressing their own royalty so reluctantly, but she soon rallied and gave a more restrained response.

“I think Sir Espiridion is correct, Your Majesty. Would you be willing to explain the reasoning behind your suggestion?”

Zenjirou was somewhat lost at their reaction but explained his thoughts.

“I am an amateur and so may be somewhat wrong, but I would have thought that would facilitate the development of the language you were aiming for. Most of the people involved with magic are interested in making new spells, right? So new rules—even if they were not entirely valid—could be used to do exactly that. I would believe that you could see much quicker progress than the two of you—however skilled you are—working relatively alone. I thought that if you used those newly developed spells for further research, it would help your research.”

Taking a basic hypothesis and putting it into practice and then letting that practical use feed back into further research was, from Zenjirou’s perspective, a normal thing to do, suggested with no real thought.

However, magic research was a solitary endeavor in this world—or perhaps occasionally shared with a few apprentices at most—so it was rather strange to them. That was likely a side effect of seeing the way to keep research’s value being to keep it secret, and not just for lineal magic.

Abnormal though the idea was, Espiridion was not called a sage for nothing and could see its benefits. The man rested a hand on his chin to consider it. “I see. A multitude of magic to use for further research is indeed a benefit. The tendency towards keeping our results close to the chest is nothing more than a side effect of how we carry it out to begin with. I can understand your point. However, knowledge is power and money alike, so I cannot call the tendency outright wrong. I propose we leave the final decision in this matter to Fiqriya. What do you think?”

The woman put her own hand to her chin to think about it as well. Eventually, she seemed to come to a decision and looked up before speaking carefully.

“In that case, anything but the last hypothesis—the one you praised, Sir Espiridion—would be things I would not mind being made public.”

“Hmm. So you’d rather not publish the complete project, then,” the older man said teasingly.

However, Fiqriya shook her head, albeit with a conflicted smile. “No. While I cannot say I do not feel that way on at least some level, the more fundamental problem is that the spell that forms its foundation is a secret magic of the Animeeum family.”

Both Espiridion and Zenjirou exchanged looks at her easy claim of why it couldn’t be published.

“In which case, surely you should not have even shown it to us, let alone considered publishing it?”

While Zenjirou’s concern was expected, the woman replied with a somewhat chagrined smile. “Truthfully, it is secret in name only. The tradition was lost so it became a non-viable spell. Of course, I did get permission from my father, Duke Animeeum, before sharing this with you both.”

Zenjirou had the briefest confusion about how such a thing could be lost, but then remembered that the family was originally a nomadic tribe. Missing the chance to pass knowledge down would be fairly simple in such a harsh lifestyle.

“Very well, then. I suppose I may have asked you some rather difficult questions,” Zenjirou said.

They likely didn’t want to admit they’d lost their secret magic.

“Not at all. If anything, I would love to talk about it. I want as many perspectives and opinions as possible to develop my research, but it is seen as taboo within my family, so very few will even listen.”

Zenjirou would have loved to have said he wouldn’t either, but simply deferring to that kind of thing was a poor position to take for royalty. He turned a questioning look to the foremost expert in the country, prompting the man to ponder things before offering a slight nod. When he turned back to Fiqriya, Espiridion continued as if nothing had happened.

“That is quite intriguing. If you can, I would like to hear more about it.”

The “if you can” was a subtle statement that if there were any diplomatic incidents that arose from this, they would be entirely on Fiqriya’s head, but the woman’s smile didn’t falter as she began to speak.

“Thank you both. Your Majesty, Sir Espiridion, have you heard of the traditions of the four ducal families? Actually, in this case, it would be more accurate to say the four tribes.”

Zenjirou immediately shook his head, followed shortly after by Espiridion, who had needed to think about it.

“Unfortunately not,” Zenjirou replied.

“Hmm...from before the country’s founding? That far back, no, I have not.” Her smile deepened. “I suppose that is only to be expected. Before the country was founded, our tribes were nomadic. We had no writings to pass down and relied solely on the shaky foundations of oral tradition. According to those traditions, each of our tribe leaders had their own jinnia.”

“Jinnia?” Zenjirou asked.

Espiridion seemed to know of this, though, and interjected with an explanation. “It was a legend passed down by the desert tribes of spirits that had even greater power than usual, and even physical forms. Frankly, I see it as nothing more than a tall tale, but did they exist after all?”

Espiridion leaned forward eagerly, but the younger researcher simply shrugged and shook her head.

“No. As you surmised, it was nothing more than a tall tale.”

“Alas.”

Fiqriya chuckled at his reaction before continuing. “The legends and conclusions I drew from the spell are all I have to go on, but I believe it to be something the tribes used to strengthen their influence. To say we were the offspring of those great jinnia and the four heroes... It was likely an attempt to claim some sort of lineal magic and be recognized by our neighboring countries as royalty. As you can see from our history, though, it was in vain. However, our ancestors were persistent and continued their fruitless efforts to create that now-lost spell. They called it jinnia summoning.”

Fiqriya was rather cheerily going through her ancestors’ somewhat embarrassing history. Her enjoyment of it made Zenjirou think she might have had some biases against her family, but she didn’t seem to be taking malicious joy in the tale, at least.

While he couldn’t say for sure, he decided it was probably joy at unearthing previously hidden history. While Zenjirou was considering that, Espiridion had started questioning the spell with interest.

“Hmm, so presumably that spell was never functional?”

Fiqriya shook her head. “While I cannot say for sure, as far as I have been able to determine, it was.”

Now it was Zenjirou’s turn to voice his doubts. “That seems rather odd. While it may now be lost, if the spell was in use in the past, then surely it is proof that the spell’s target—these jinnia—existed in the past.”

After all, she had just now discounted their existence. That seemed to be exactly what she was waiting for. Her smile broadened as she continued her explanation.

“Indeed. To be more precise, a spell called jinnia summoning existed, but it did not in fact summon jinnia. First, the ceremony used for the spell was several mages working in concert. The leader had to be a direct descendant of those jinnia, and could even carry out the ceremony in our normal language—not the language of magic.”

“A likely story,” the old mage snorted.

He was quite correct. There were no examples of several people pooling their strength to cast a single spell. Casting a spell without the language of magic was nothing but fantasy either.

“The summoning spell was actually a complex interweaving of creation, manipulation, and animation spells. The evidence for that is that there were many instances of a person with large amounts of mana and proficiency in magic participating in a support role, despite being ostensibly better suited than a person from the chief’s family who cast in our normal tongue.”

“Ah, so that’s how they did it.”

Her explanation was enough that Zenjirou could see how the “summoning” actually worked. It was essentially a magic version of the helping hands skit.

The leader of the ceremony would be at the front, saying something grand in their usual language like, “Oh great jinnia of our ancestors’ ancestors. Heed the call of our blood and answer my summons,” which would draw all the attention to them.

While the focus was on them, the real mage would use the language of magic to cast the real spell. The reasoning was simple. This world had an extremely convenient automatic translation effect called the soul of language. Due to that, a third party would be able to tell in an instant that the “jinnia summoning” was in fact no such thing. After all, translated incantations were brutally to the point.

Since Fiqriya had called it a combination of creation, manipulation, and animation spells, it was likely something along the lines of “Water in the air, gather here, take the form of a maiden and then move according to my will.” There was no room for misinterpretation there.

It was somewhat rude, but it made him smile a little, imagining their ancestors doing that while looking deadly serious. He pushed down the urge to laugh as he continued.

“So you mean to say that the real spell used behind the scenes was lost? Perhaps along with the public-facing ‘spell’ and group ceremony?”

Assuming it was still around, it would be an important piece of the tribes’ history regardless. Fiqriya gave a conflicted look before capitulating.

“Well...unfortunately, much of the public ritual made its way down. The Elehalieucco tribe’s in particular seems to have made its way down the generations mostly untouched. Shuura is in the midst of poi— Putting her efforts into resurrecting the tradition.”

Zenjirou’s ears pricked, certain she had been about to say “pointless effort” but he wasn’t so crass as to point that out here.

“I see. That is a shame. I seem to remember Lady Shuura from that family has a fair amount of mana as well,” Zenjirou said, thinking back to when he’d met the four beauties.

In terms of mana alone, Shuura was easily the most gifted. Conversely, Fiqriya here had the least by far.

Shuura was the eldest daughter of the main family. Fiqriya, though, was from a branch family and had earned her way to adoption by the main branch through her knowledge of magic. There was naturally a difference there.

“Due to how things happened, many of the people in the families—particularly the Elehalieucco and Reierfon families—truly believe in the ceremony. Shuura is putting in the most effort to its recreation, but that is the case for both of the families I have mentioned, along with the Elementaccato and even my own families,” she said with a quirk to her lips.

“I see, so that is the state of things,” Zenjirou nodded understandingly.

If there were a large number of people who believed in the ceremony and were truly trying to recreate it, he could understand why Fiqriya’s research was not ideal for publishing.

It would mean that there were in fact no jinnia, and the spell was actually just gathering whichever of the elements and making them behave in that way. However much proof she brought to bear, it would never be accepted. The very fact that her research had “hit a dead end” was in regard to the replication of the spell. Researching while keeping it secret would be inefficient. Still, it was incredible she had the results she did.

“So, if you are certain that the spell was originally a hoax, have you succeeded in replicating it?” Zenjirou asked, the only one of the three who hadn’t read the research in question.

Fiqriya nodded confidently. “As you have discerned, I have. It is significantly minimized and simplified, but I succeeded in casting the spell.”

“Espiridion?” Zenjirou asked, looking for confirmation from the man. The mage shrugged and shook his head.

“I can only say it as likely. The incantation should indeed give such an effect, but I have yet to succeed in casting it. Well, the two other spells were successes, but that one eludes me yet.”

The failure probably pained his pride, so he’d felt the need to add that extraneous information. The language in the west of the Southern Continent, the language of the center, and even the languages of the Northern Continents all lacked characters to precisely record the pronunciation of the language of magic. It was like showing the difference between an English “R” and “L” using hiragana. There was a slight difference in pronunciation, but the same character had to be used for both. But this was on a much larger scale.

A mage of Espiridion’s caliber could—for simple spells—look at the recorded pronunciation and use his own knowledge to determine a likely pronunciation, but the simplified jinnia summoning was apparently impossible for even him to replicate in that way.

“If you would like, I can cast it here,” Fiqriya offered.

Struck with curiosity, Zenjirou turned to Espiridion to ask for permission, only prompting him with his name. The man considered it for a while. “It should be fine. I am sure it is not dangerous.”

The spell that was to be cast was not dangerous to begin with, and if Fiqriya was plotting something unsavory, he should be more than enough to defend Zenjirou. With that permission, Zenjirou moved to indulge his curiosity.

“If you would, then, Fiqriya.”

“Of course. Could I ask for some aid with my preparations? I need two bowls of about this size,” she said, gesturing. “One should be filled with water and the other empty. Could I also borrow a cup around this size?” She had started off with a smile but shifted to a more embarrassed tone as she asked.

“Ah, the incantation you prepared did not contain anything for creation. So that was what you meant by ‘simplified.’”

“Indeed.”

Zenjirou didn’t entirely follow, but Espiridion seemed to, so it must have been the case.

“Very well; it will be done,” Zenjirou said before turning to call to the maids and soldiers behind the door.

Some time later, the table they were seated around was home to a silver bowl of water, an empty bowl of the same size, and a silver cup.

“This should work. Pardon me,” Fiqriya said, excusing herself from her seat and picking up the cup to dip in the water.

“That...is a little too much...” she said, scooping up some water from the bowl before returning some of it, carefully measuring the amount. “This should work,” she said eventually.

She then placed the half-full cup on the table. Then, she stood in front of the table and placed her right index finger into the water, just up to the first joint.

“Water in this container, follow my commands and take the form of a person. As compensation, I present two hundred and three offerings of mana to the spirits of water.”

The effect was immediate. The water stood within the cup. Perhaps the best way to put it was that it was deformed as much as it could be while still being recognizably humanoid. It had visible limbs, a torso, and a head, but no digits, and its head was smooth with no semblance of hair. Its head made up roughly a third of its height.

It had been made from just a cup of water, so it was roughly big enough to place on someone’s palm. Still, it was immensely impactful to see.

“Oh!” Zenjirou marveled, leaning forward unconsciously.

Fiqriya seemed pleased with his reaction, her face breaking into a smile as she lifted the cup. As its proportions might suggest, the figure didn’t have much in the way of a sense of balance, so it rolled around in the cup.

It made Zenjirou feel kind of bad even as he found it cute, but the caster herself seemed to feel nothing, simply tipping it out into the empty bowl. The figure floundered for a while but eventually managed to stand in the middle of the bowl. Standing must have been its default state.

As the two men looked on with interest, Fiqriya gave a small command. “Advance.”

The little figure started walking across the bottom of the bowl. Of course, even for a small doll made of water, the bowl was small, so it soon reached the edge and slipped over. However, it floundered its way back to its feet and simply went right back to it, walking over and falling again.

It probably hadn’t been doing so for even a minute. The effect had then run its course and it lost its shape, splashing into a cup’s-worth of water in the bottom of the bowl.

“That is as far as I have gotten. It seems to require specific commands in the language of magic, and I have only managed to implement advance,” she said regretfully.

Espiridion’s interest seemed to have been entirely piqued, though, and he made his way over to Fiqriya with a swiftness belying his age.

“Interesting. Very interesting. The initial careful measurement was to eliminate the part of the spell that adjusts the amount automatically to reduce the mana expenditure, no? The phrasing of ‘follow my commands’ suggests there should be a great deal of freedom in its actions with the right additional phrasing. I shall be borrowing this a moment.”

As he spoke, Espiridion practically pushed her away from the bowl to stand there himself. He put his wrinkled index finger into the water that had been a humanoid until a moment ago and spoke an incantation.

“Water in this container, gather at my finger and briefly take the form I desire. As compensation, I present one hundred and fifty-six offerings of mana to the spirits of water.”

“Impressive, Sir Espiridion.”

He had fluently chanted the water manipulation spell, which had impressed Fiqriya in some way. It was beyond Zenjirou, but apparently, it was possible to tell someone’s proficiency in magic by listening to their pronunciation.

The enchanted water gathered at his finger before the blob morphed into a humanoid figure.

“Hm.”

Then, with a mental command from the man, it began to steadily walk across the bowl. At a glance, it seemed to be a perfect recreation of Fiqriya’s spell. However, it was different on closer inspection. Fiqriya’s simplified summoning had been entirely independent, but Espiridion’s manipulation magic had the figure’s head connected to his finger by a fine strand of water.

“That should be sufficient for the image,” he said, almost mumbling to himself as he ordered it to move into the cup.

It lost its shape and poured like some viscous fluid, quickly moving into the cup from the bowl. Once it was done, he cut the spell and removed his finger from the cup.

“I shall test it out. Fiqriya?”

“Yes?” she replied, straightening at the sudden address.

“I wish to try several things with the spell you demonstrated. If you notice anything, then inform me of it, would you?”

“Of course, Sir Espiridion.”

The two of them had completely taken on a student and teacher vibe astonishingly quickly.

“Then here I go. I shall adjust the construction first...”

He put his finger back into the cup of water and cast the spell.

“Water in this container, follow my will and take the form of a person. As compensation, I present two hundred and three offerings of mana to the spirits of water... Hmm, that would have been too convenient.”

The spell had not worked, but Espiridion did not seem unduly bothered, just shrugging.

“You changed commands to will. That would certainly be a dramatic improvement if it worked. I suppose even slightly changing the construction also changes the amount of mana required?” Fiqriya suggested, her eyes sparkling.

Espiridion continued looking at the cup, though. “That is eminently possible. However, the language is immensely delicate and complex. Replacing commands with will may well have caused some contradictory effect in the rest of the spell. It is worth considering, but I will return to the basics for now. Water in this container, follow my commands and take the form of a person. As compensation, I present two hundred and three offerings of mana to the spirits of water.”

This time, the spell was just as Fiqriya had originally cast it. As perhaps should have been expected, it functioned perfectly. The water in the cup once again took a small humanoid form.

“Sir Zenjirou, this will wet the table.”

Zenjirou nodded back at his warning. “I do not mind. Do as you will,” he answered, curious about the magic experimentation himself.

“Very well.” Espiridion then tipped the cup over—not into the bowl, but onto the table. Once the figure had found its feet on the flat surface, he gave a clear order. “Advance.”

The order was the same as earlier but now in a different place. Instead of being in a constrictive bowl, the figure began to walk, now with no impediments to its progress. As it continued steadily on with its somewhat comical gait, the old man gave another order.

“Halt.”

“Oh?!” Fiqriya exclaimed as it stopped on the spot.

Espiridion somewhat proudly stroked his beard at her impressed look and gave another order.

“Turn around. Hmm, I suppose not.”

He had been attempting to get it to pull an about-face, but it simply turned its head back to “face” Espiridion with its smooth features.

“How to change its direction?” he pondered, falling silent for a while. “Perhaps this? Return.” The figure simply shuddered, but did nothing else. “Hmm...what caused that?”

“Perhaps it cannot understand, Sir Espiridion?”

“I see. I suppose it cannot remember where it needs to ‘return’ to. What to do, then...”

“So these are the limits of my simplified version?”

“It is too soon to say, Fiqriya. Taking its abilities into account is the correct approach, but you must not lose sight of optimizing the commands either. In fact, you could say that is even more important in terms of researching the language of magic.”

“It is as you say.”

While the new student and teacher were talking, the spell reached its time limit and fell apart on the table with a splash.

“Oh, already? This is hardly enough time to test,” he said, white eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

A short period of effect was one of the shortcomings of this world’s magic. Even Zenjirou knew this; it was the most basic of basics, after all. But then he came up with an idea.

“Fiqriya, did the four tribes get the Sharou family to make the spell into a magic tool after the country was founded?”

The easiest way to solve the shortcoming of the time limit was via the Sharou family’s lineal magic. The static flames used as both heating and lighting in the palace would hardly be enough to even slightly warm water if it had to be used as a spell. While the normal jinnia summoning was only a parlor trick, making it into a magic tool would improve its utility by leaps and bounds. It would effectively be one of the mainstays of fantasy fiction: a golem.

Fiqriya shook her head with a rueful smile as she answered Zenjirou’s question—and hidden concern. “Unfortunately, there is no such thing. The four tribes kept the spell a secret from the Sharou family even after the country’s founding, so there would be no way for it to be made.”

Creating a magic tool from a spell required casting it several times in front of the enchanter. Claiming you could cast the spell because you were descended from the jinnia while the spell had phrases like “take human form” or “follow my commands” would completely expose it.

“Besides, there would be no use for it. Even my simplified version uses significant mana; I dread to think how much more a complete version would use. I estimate it would take at least ten years to complete. Additionally, as you just saw, the ‘jinnia’ cannot follow complex commands, so there is no point either.”

“I see. I suppose so,” he agreed, albeit with a cold sweat running down his back.

The time it would take to make, along with the lack of following complex commands, meant there was no reason to pursue making a magic tool. In other words, if that time could be shortened or the commands made more complex, it would be a completely different story.

The manufacturing time would be solved by the currently in-development marbles, while the complex commands seemed like there might be some breakthrough if the pair kept researching as they were...in which case, there could very well be a magic tool for jinnia summoning—or making golems of the four elements.

Even if they were limited in abilities, if they were cheap and plentiful, they could well be worth it. Fiqriya’s current research was based on her specialty of water magic, but there had apparently been jinnia for fire, wind, and earth as well.

An earth jinnia could work in the mine that was worrying Talajeh without an issue. If it worked efficiently, it could even be used in place of dash drakes to cross areas with no feeding or watering grounds.

A fire jinnia would be invaluable on the battlefield. Using them for the front line would both lower the number of wounded on their side and increase the same for the enemy. A wind jinnia could be used to counter the large flying drakes plaguing people on longer journeys.

Even a little thought let him think of several valid use cases. The marbles were only known to the Capua and Sharou families, so Fiqriya was unconcerned with it since she knew nothing of them, but if she eventually managed to reproduce the spell in full, the Sharou family would hear of it. With how much King Bruno and Crown Prince Josep wanted to strengthen their country, there was no way they would fail to think of what Zenjirou had.

Maybe we should put a stop to it now, he thought, keeping a smile on his face as he watched the other two interact.

“This was a rather productive meeting. You have my thanks, Fiqriya.”

“Likewise. It was an honor to receive your instruction. It feels like I have accomplished as much today as in the past three years on my own. Thank you very much.”

The old sage and younger researcher exchanged bright smiles.

That night, word reached Zenjirou that marbles suitable for magic tools were at last feasible to produce en masse.