A few days later, I’d finished transcribing the underground-ruin’s mural to paper.
The spell that did the work was the Null spell [Drawing] — copies what you see directly to paper or the like. Basically a copier.
I don’t actually pen anything; characters surface on the paper, so it really is just a copier. I copied from the smartphone’s photo gallery to paper.
This spell got me an external printer, in effect. As a test I printed a few sweet-recipes for Aer-san, and she was thrilled. The ingredients I had to track down with [Search], though. The portions I worked out from the weights of yen coins I had on me. Should’ve thought of this earlier.
Right — time to deliver to the capital. I asked the others, but everyone still felt awkward meeting the Duke, so I went solo. In moments like this, you really feel the gap in how I see nobles vs. how the others do. My world had no aristocracy. Well — strictly speaking, maybe it did, but.
Documents in hand, I opened Gate.
I stepped through the gate of light and out in front of the Duke’s manor’s main entrance.
“Whoah!”
“Ah, sorry.”
The gatekeeper, startled by my sudden appearance. Truth be told, I startle him every time I show up. I’d love it if he got used to it, but at this rate, we’re not there yet.
Hm?
The main gate opened, and a carriage came out from inside. Heading out? Bad timing.
“Lord Touya!? Thank goodness! Get in!”
“Eh? Wait — eh!? What!?”
The Duke shoved open the carriage door, came out, and in a heartbeat had me by the arm and was hauling me into the carriage. What’s going on!?
“To think you’d visit at this exact moment…! Surely God himself sent you. I must give thanks.”
The Duke started praying right across from me, agitated. Well — God did send me here, technically. Even so, this kind of urgency wasn’t normal. What’s happened?
“What on earth happened?”
When I asked, sweat at his brow, his voice came out tight and pressed:
“My brother has been poisoned.”
…Excuse me?
The Duke’s older brother — that’d be His Majesty the King… right? King’s assassination, that?
“Fortunately we acted quickly, so he’s still holding on. But…”
Hands clenched, eyes downcast, his voice trembled as he forced the words out. His brother nearly killed — of course he’s worried.
“Anyone you suspect?”
”…There is someone I have in mind. But no proof. You remember when Sue was attacked. I believe it was the same culprit.”
“But why the King? Ah — like an assassin from another country, that kind of…?”
“That, at least, would be easier to grasp…”
With one sigh the Duke raised his head. A bitter expression there.
“Our Belfast Kingdom is surrounded by three nations. The Reefless Empire to the west; across the Merisia Mountains to the east, the Regulus Empire; across the Gau River to the south, the Mismid Kingdom. Of these, with western Reefless we have a long history and friendly ties.”
Mm-hm.
“With Regulus, since the war twenty years ago, we have a kind of nonaggression treaty — but honestly it’s not what you’d call friendly. They could march on us again any time. And the southern Mismid Kingdom — that’s where the problem is.”
“Problem?”
“Mismid is a newly-formed nation, founded in the middle of that war twenty years ago. My brother has been working to enter into an alliance with this new state, both as a check on Regulus and to open new trade. But there are nobles who oppose it.”
“Why?”
If you don’t know when the Empire might invade, surely the more allies the better. Or is it not that simple.
“Because Mismid is a country of demihumans. A nation with many demihumans living there, ruled by a beastfolk king. Old-line nobles can’t stomach it.”
”…What is with that?”
So they sabotage things that benefit the country, just because they can’t stomach it? And the demihuman part doesn’t connect for me. If they were beasts you can’t reason with, fine, I could see it. But the beastfolk talk just fine — and the one I met, Arma, was a great kid.
“In the past, demihumans were considered lower forms of life — objects of contempt. A base, savage species, supposedly. But in our father’s generation, laws were enacted to revise that view, and over time the custom faded. In fact, in the capital’s streets, beastfolk walk freely, no overt discrimination on the surface. But behind the scenes there are still quite a few old-fashioned nobles who refuse to accept it.”
“Discrimination, then.”
“Right. Why must we shake hands with a country of base beastfolk? Better to crush them and make them a vassal state. For the nobles who think that way, my brother is in their way — nothing else.”
I see. So those old-line nobles might be the masterminds this time. But would they really go that far? I had my doubts. Killing your own monarch? Besides — if the king dies, aren’t they the ones inconvenienced?
“If my brother dies, the throne passes to his only daughter, Princess Yumina. Likely, those nobles plan to push the princess to take a son — or a relative — of theirs as her husband-consort. In that case, perhaps the one our enemy was trying to leverage by abducting Sue was not me, but my brother.”
Sever ties with Mismid if you value your niece’s life, huh. A princess of one country — security must be airtight. So they went after Sue instead… maybe. Or, getting cocky, they might have intended to demand their son for her hand too. But this all felt slapdash, in some way.
If they’re caught, they’re absolutely getting executed. The image of a period-drama villain crossed my mind.
“So — what should I do?”
“Remove the poison from my brother. With that spell you used on Ellen.”
The status-recovery magic [Recovery]. That. Yeah — it can clear poison and aftereffects clean. That’s why he hauled me in. Got it.
While we talked, the ducal carriage passed through the castle gates, crossed the drawbridge, and arrived at the royal palace.
Hurried along by the Duke, we entered the castle. A vast atrium with crimson carpet stretched out to greet us. The grand staircase descending from the front center curved gently to the left and right; from the ceiling hung a chandelier glittering like a sky of stars. Light-element magic stones, those?
Sprinting up the carpeted staircase with the Duke, on a landing midway up, we passed a man.
“Why, Your Grace the Duke. It’s been a while.”
“Tch! …Count Balsa…!”
The Duke fixed the man before him with a glare. A short, stout man in flashy clothes, balding. Reminds me of a toad, somehow. He was watching us with an oily grin.
“Be at ease. We’ve apprehended the perpetrator of the assassination attempt.”
“What!?”
“The ambassador from the Mismid Kingdom. His Majesty drank wine and collapsed. The wine was identified as a gift from the ambassador of Mismid.”
“Ridiculous…”
The Duke’s face was disbelief. If it were true, the rift between the two kingdoms is a sure thing — no, war wouldn’t be unthinkable.
But — something didn’t sit right. Too convenient.
“The ambassador is being held in another room. A presumptuous deed for a mere beastfolk. Strike his head off, send it back to Mismid—”
“You will not! Everything is for my brother to decide! The ambassador will be confined to his quarters, and that is all!”
“Is it so. Words wasted on a mere beastfolk… very well, as you say. However — should something happen to His Majesty, I cannot rein in the other nobles. They will, I’m sure, say the same as I.”
Count Balsa’s smile turned slimy. This guy. The discrimination-against-beastfolk old noble opposing the king’s policy. And maybe the one who poisoned the king too…
Looking at the Duke glaring down the toad — I doubted I was wrong. Yeah, this guy’s the culprit. No question.
“Then I take my leave. Things are about to be busy.”
The toad began ponderously descending the long staircase. Busy? Because the king’s about to die? The Duke’s hand, watching the bald count off, was clenched and trembling. All right — let’s give that toad a little payback.
“Slip.”
“Whoa-aagh!?”
The toad lost his footing and went tumbling vigorously down the stairs. He didn’t stop until he hit the bottom step, sprawled on the floor.
“Guhgyaa!”
Eventually the toad pulled himself upright, attempting composure, and tottered off. The maids and posted knights nearby trembled, holding back laughter. Tch — survived, did he.
The dumbstruck Duke turned to me as I clicked my tongue.
“Was that you?”
I gave a thumbs-up in silence and a refreshing smile.
The Duke wore an exasperated expression for a moment — but eventually returned the same kind of smile.