The palace library, at lunchtime.
Seamus sat quietly studying “Leila Rowell.”
A former groupmate, and now a fellow new hire in the same department.
Right now, she was frowning in dead earnest at a thick, weighty book.
The Bewildering Compendium of Magical Herbs.
And doing it by carving the time out of her own precious lunch break, no less.
All of this, because of the question Leila Rowell had asked him earlier.
Why would she even ask something like that?
[There is a spell for recalling things you’ve seen in fine detail. But…]
[But?]
[…Only the current head of the Mage Tower can cast it.]
He hadn’t yet inherited the position of Mage Tower head, so a spell that advanced was still beyond him.
He hated admitting that, more than he liked to think about.
Still — it wasn’t as though there was no way around it at all.
[But if magic’s off the table, you can substitute it with something you eat.]
[Oh!]
Which was why, right now, Leila Rowell was working through a list of herb names with him.
Seamus watched her again, quietly, as she flipped rapidly through the pages.
There was nothing remarkable about my first impression of her, at all.
If anything, on his first day as an official, he’d been far more wary of Julianna Crosswell.
The one who beat me into second place.
The instant that thought crossed his mind, breathing itself grew difficult.
He wasn’t even wearing a tie, and yet his throat still tightened the way it used to, when he was a child.
[Seamus. You have to be perfect.]
In his childhood, the head of the Mage Tower used to whisper that while slowly tightening the knot of his tie.
[Because you’re this family’s masterpiece…]
[But the instant something surpasses you—]
[—you’re nothing at all.]
And then had come an endless, grinding struggle to stay “perfect.”
Seamus looked at Leila Rowell again.
I thought she was just an ordinary person, at first.
But her eye for seeing a core was a rarer gift than his own.
Grrk.
For a moment, breathing hurt.
Exactly the way it used to, under those hands cinching the tie too tight.
That was when Leila Rowell looked up.
“By the way, Seamus, are you sure you don’t want to go eat? I’m fine either way.”
“I’m good. That’s the ‘condition,’ remember.”
“Haaah…”
Leila Rowell’s face fell into a picture of misery.
The condition he’d set, in exchange for showing her the way around it, had been simple.
[Stick with me the whole time you’re at the palace. I want to observe you.]
Watch her closely, and prove that he was the superior one.
Find her weak point, and knock her down.
Leila Rowell waved a hand at him, thoroughly exasperated.
“If you want to burn your break time on this, be my guest. It’s coming out of your own salary’s worth of time, so that’s on you to manage.”
“…I already know that.”
Seamus answered, sulky.
In truth, he hadn’t known that at all.
Leila Rowell, irritated as she got, still explained things to him clearly, one after another.
No one, before her, had ever bothered spending that kind of time explaining things to him.
Because if you can’t just figure it out yourself, you’re not a genius.
[Seamus. You’re basically the best there is, at the Mage Tower, right?]
No one had ever complimented him that bluntly, either.
That was when Leila Rowell clapped a hand over her mouth and let out a gasp.
“Ah, this. This is exactly it.”
“What? What is it?”
“Heheheh… found something I can use.”
Leila flipped the book wide open to show him the page she’d been reading.
Wearing, of all things, an utterly wicked smile.
“Seamus, starting now, I’m going for a one-shot, two-kill.”
“What?”
“Ah, but I’ll need your help with this too. Would you back me up as a witness?”
“What…?”
Arthur Featherston (38) had finally, finally taught them a lesson!
Ahh. Now that’s what I call satisfying.
And against that insufferable Black Spoon Division, no less!
Stealing our work right out from under us, and then having the nerve to hound us for a delivery date?
Never mind that what the Young Grand Duke of Rupesk and the Duke of Crowe got up to was frankly vulgar.
Keeping a bed in the office and grinding away morning and night like that?
A proper noble would never stoop to it!
Then again, it made a certain kind of sense, given that three hundred years ago—
Their ancestors had drawn swords against the “Mad Emperor” himself. Enough said.
However much they claimed it was to save the empire — raising a blade against His Majesty?
Nobles loyal to the Crown down to the bone made up the Imperial Faction.
And those who backed what house Rupesk and house Crowe had done back then made up the Noble Faction.
The quiet tug-of-war between these two camps had been going on for a very long time.
The Noble Faction held the upper hand these days, sure, but Arthur — proudly Imperial Faction — smirked anyway.
“Pfft, well, they both got their punishment either way.”
Both houses had lost most of their members since, after all…
Of course, in front of either family, he kept his head down and his mouth shut!
But he saw no reason to bow to anyone who wasn’t actually above him. Just thinking of that dead-last little commoner woman set his blood boiling all over again.
“Back in my day, we’d have had a girl like that quietly resign on her own!”
…Having churned through his own generation’s righteousness like that more times than he could count, Arthur arrived at his destination.
He cleared his throat a few times outside the door before a refined voice answered from within.
“Come in.”
“Ahem! Excuse me.”
Arthur cleared his throat once more and pushed the door open.
“It’s been a while, Lord Wordsworth!”
Theodore stood at the table in the middle of the glass greenhouse.
This magical herb research lab was always so peaceful.
If any other department were this way, it would grate on his nerves — but here, he didn’t even feel a flicker of hostility.
Ha, well, the man’s just too naive for his own good.
He had no idea how much of a fortune Arthur had made selling off this lab’s herbs, either. And had been doing it for years!
Theodore gestured toward an empty chair with a boyish smile.
“I’m sorry to take you from your work — you must be terribly busy.”
“Ah, not at all, don’t be absurd! Ha, but what brings this on…?”
“Actually… there’s something troubling me. Something I need to bring up with you, Team Leader Featherston.”
“Goodness, whatever it is, please, tell me!”
At that, Theodore’s brow lowered, sorrowful.
“I’ve received a report that your team took more of our lab’s herb supply than necessary…”
“Er… hm?”
“…and has been quietly selling it off in the market. Even the poisonous ones.”
“Hm?!”
“Ah, it’s been such a heavy burden on my mind, Featherston.”
Behind his glasses, Theodore’s eyes glistened, misty. But he didn’t cry — he simply, resolutely, held out a stack of documents.
“So, in truth, before I even called you here, I’d already filed a report with the Ministry of Finance.”
“Wh— what did you say…”
“I do hope you’ll forgive me for filing something this unpleasant. But after everything with Team Leader Kafres, things have felt so unsettled lately…”
“Uh— uh — !”
“I’m sure it will all turn out to be a misunderstanding, won’t it? When it does, I’ll be certain to make it up to you, in the name of house Wordsworth.”
“N-n-no…!”
Arthur Featherston (38), on what should have been a lucky day.
That afternoon, he could only watch, utterly powerless, as the audit team stormed into his office!
After Arthur Featherston fled the scene, ashen-faced, sputtering “I— I’ll take my leave first,” —
“Thank you for letting me know, Miss Rowell.”
“Oh, not at all, Chief. I was so worried I might have jumped to conclusions too quickly.”
Seamus and I stepped out from where we’d been hiding and greeted Chief Theodore properly.
All under the perfectly plausible cover of an errand the Chief had sent to the Black Spoon Division.
Our alibi was airtight, too.
“During my training, I kept noticing the numbers on the ‘supply requisition forms for the Mage Knights’ Division’ looked far too high… it’s been bothering me for a while now…”
I even had my excuse prepared in advance.
I fumbled, looking suitably regretful, then gestured toward the blank-faced Grape-Head.
“Seamus mentioned that even for high-grade artifact production, the quantities seemed way too excessive!”
Seamus, who’d been staring straight ahead without a hint of interest, only nodded once I elbowed him.
Chief Theodore’s face flushed.
“I’m both grateful and embarrassed that you noticed something so easy to overlook. Some of those are dangerous herbs, too — they really shouldn’t be sold on the open market…”
“I’m so relieved to hear that, then.”
“Truly, thank you, Miss Rowell. Mr. Finley. I don’t know how I could possibly repay you…”
“Oh, goodness, there’s no need to repay anything.”
Right. Repayment. This was exactly the line I’d been waiting for.
If it really had been material embezzlement, then the Magical Herb Research Lab’s own supplies would obviously have been affected too.
And when it came to how you were supposed to handle things at work?
Go for the one-shot, two-kill, then clock out right on time.
However much Chief Theodore might have been my favorite stock pick, once upon a time, workplace relationships were still give and take, through and through.
I wasn’t about to let this end with a “thank you so much! Let me buy you a coffee!” and call it settled.
Here we go — the working professional’s art of the deal!
“Chief, I know I’m not officially part of the lab, but I’d like to be the kind of new hire who contributes to the empire wherever I can — so I was wondering, could I possibly get just one mandrake? For memory enhancement.”
