Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Chapter 67



Fragments of pages, parts of the Book of Truth.

It was an incomprehensible kind of power.

Just looking at Veritas was enough to see that.

A magic tome with self-awareness, possessing an unfathomable amount of magical power.

Most people were oblivious to the existence of Veritas. So far, only one person had noticed.

Zilph of Hoenberg’s spirit. He had warned Binaeril about the fragments.

“Pages are condensed imaginations. More precisely, they are the remnants of manifested imagination.”

“Imagination? Remnants?”

It wasn’t an immediately graspable explanation, but Binaeril decided to understand it step by step.

“If the essence of the page is ‘imagination,’ then that means there is a subject of that imagination, right?”

“…Your insight has grown. The pages, including myself, are merely by-products of a mage’s magic.”

There was only one mage who could treat entities like Veritas as mere ‘by-products.’

“Is the name of that mage the same as I think?”

“Probably. There’s only one such person.”

Archmage Dekypleio.

The founder of magic, the builder of the Magic Tower Elfenbine, and the savior of humanity.

Hearing a name he’d only read about in books on the History of Magic made Binaeril’s head spin slightly.

“Are you saying you’re a work of Dekypleio?”

“Dekypleio didn’t intentionally create these relics. I told you, they’re just remnants. Binaeril, how did I describe magic to you?”

“Belief that turns imagination into reality.”

It was a long time ago, but Binaeril vividly remembered that conversation.

Veritas nodded.

“Right. Magic is the crystallization of imagination and will. The imposition of a violent will. The fruit of unrestricted imagination. That’s the essence of magic. And when Dekypleio’s magic manifested in the world…”

Veritas, still lying down, spread his arms wide, indicating the space they were in.

“Such grand imagination inevitably left remnants.”

“Then the vast amount of mana you possess is also…”

“Yes, it originally belonged to Dekypleio. How about it, does that answer your question now?”

Binaeril understood it intellectually, but it was hard to accept.

The fact that Veritas was a relic of Archmage Dekypleio.

It also seemed to explain why Veritas could change his appearance at will without a physical form.

“Then here’s a quiz.”

“I explained that magic is the crystallization of imagination and will. But do you think all of Dekypleio’s imaginations were beautiful and peaceful?”

He spent his life in battles against demons. Of course not.

Binaeril himself used magic mostly for combat.

“Of course not.”

“Right. Many of Dekypleio’s remnants are dangerous, often attracting demons and causing anomalies.”

Binaeril had a strong premonition that acquiring the pages would not be as easy as it had been.

“And Binaeril, here’s something extra for you.”

“You’re not the only one collecting pages.”

That… Zilph had also said that. That Binaeril wasn’t the only one gathering the power of the fragments.

“Then does that mean I will have to meet someone who has collected the pages and get them to hand them over?”

“Well, that might be the case. If the other side is willing to hand them over, that is.”

“Who is ‘the other side’?”

Veritas’ smile deepened. Binaeril grew anxious.

Whenever he was happy, it always meant bad news for Binaeril.

“On a larger scale, it’s the Order. The very religious group you call the Holy Kingdom of Vitory.”

“The Order is collecting the pages?”

This was no small matter. It meant he might have to confront the entire Order to obtain the pages.

“And on a smaller scale… there is one individual who is leading the collection of the pages.”

“Who is it?”

Binaeril’s pupils shook greatly.

“Your brother, Yunnaeril Dalheim, whom you despise, is collecting pages just like you.”

His vision became blurry.

Binaeril couldn’t tell if he was feeling lightheaded or if Veritas was playing a trick on him.

Regardless, his vision was spinning.

With a trembling voice, Binaeril asked,

“My brother? Why? How many pages has he collected? Why is he collecting pages? How does he even know about them?”

Binaeril fired off his questions haphazardly.

Now he could distinguish. It wasn’t he who was dizzy; the space was distorting.

Veritas was preparing to expel him from this space.

“Wait, Veritas, answer me!”

Binaeril’s vision went dark.

Veritas’ voice started to echo from within him again.

-I told you. Only one question at a time. If you want to know more, gather more pages.

Veritas claimed to answer any question truthfully.

There was no possibility that he lied.

No matter how much he enjoyed causing trouble, he wouldn’t lie.

‘A question always matches the stature of the one asking it.’ That was what Veritas had said.

As he had said, Binaeril’s curiosity only grew through the questions.

Why Yunnaeril Dalheim?

Why was he collecting pages?

How did he know about them?

Was he collecting them under the Order’s command?

Had his brother grown stronger just as Veritas had helped Binaeril grow?

It was truly a situation where questions begat more questions.

The fact that Binaeril was in a state of panic was clearly Veritas’ intention.

‘He gave me information that he didn’t need to give.’

-You’re making a fuss even when I give you more. It’s just a service. You could see it as goodwill.

‘What a joke.’

There were no answers to be found no matter how much he thought about it.

If the annoying book wouldn’t speak any further.

‘One page, one answer. If that’s the case.’

-You should strive to find the next page, right? I happen to have some good news for you.

‘What news?’

-I’ve identified the location of the nearest next page.

‘Where is it?’

-In a city called Rotfalen, southeast of here.

Binaeril unfolded a map and found the name Rotfalen. It was,

in the territory of Duke Dux.

At dawn, Binaeril immediately set out to find Duke Dux.

“You want to accompany me?”

“The empire’s matters are settled, so I must return to Elfenbine anyway. There’s no urgency, so there’s no need to cut through Hoenberg. It seems safer to return south through the Duke’s territory.”

It was a reasonable suggestion.

Lady Vivian of the Duke’s family was giving her father an eager look from the side.

Duke Dux felt an inexplicable unease about Binaeril.

He had a strong premonition that leaving his daughter alone with Binaeril would be a mistake…

Vivian, out of Binaeril’s sight, was relentlessly poking her father’s side.

“…Very well, Sir Binaeril.”

“You can just call me Binaeril.”

Having received the Duke’s permission, Binaeril needed to bid farewell to Rike and Sylvia.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yes, there’s no reason to stay here any longer.”

In the absence of the regent or other retainers, Binaeril still addressed Rike comfortably.

‘There’s no reason to stay.’

Rike felt a pang of sadness at Binaeril’s words.

“I’m not leaving immediately. Duke Dux will be returning after the coronation, so I’ll leave then.”

“Yes, I understand.”

While Binaeril delivered his message lightly and left, Princess Friederike felt heavy-hearted all day.

“Rike?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

She often found herself staring blankly, lost in thought.

As the coronation approached, Rike found it increasingly difficult to find time, and encounters with Binaeril became fewer.

The days passed, and finally, the day of the coronation arrived.

On the morning of the coronation, an envoy from the Holy Kingdom of Vitory arrived. The timing was coincidental.

When it was announced that all disputes over the succession had been resolved, the envoy nodded.

The coronation was conducted simply.

The crowning ceremony was skipped, with only a very small number of attendees, and the two emperors stood before the split thrones to take their oaths.

They each held a part of the scepter that Binaeril had returned.

“The scepter of Albrecht symbolizes two things: ivory for wisdom, and gold for glory.”

Princess Charlotte, the first princess, continued with a short speech.

Friederike looked around at the people gathered for the coronation.

Her sister. Sylvia. Duke Dux and Lady Vivian. The soldiers of the Duke’s house. Count Brante of the court.

And the dozen or so other figures who seemed like fleeting background characters in a novel.

Finally, her gaze landed on Binaeril.

“…Rike?”

Someone nudged her side. It was her sister, Charlotte.

“Uh, yes?”

“It’s your turn.”

The first princess stepped back, and it was now Friederike’s turn to speak.

Friederike, the Empress, gathered her thoughts for what she wanted to say.

She began,

“As the second princess of the empire and the rightful heir to the throne, I stand here today. But when I look back on the past, the deeds I have accomplished as the second princess are few. For much of my time, I was a student at Elfenbine, a mage, a sister to my older sister, and a friend to Sylvia and Binaeril. And when I returned to the place I had left, the heavy responsibilities and duties I feared and cast away remained like shackles. Because of the title of princess, I often endured baseless hatred and violence.”

How must Rike have felt, drinking the poisoned cup brought by the maid every day with a smiling face? How must she have felt, embracing her sister and jumping from the bedroom of the royal castle?

“To confess, I have long regarded my status as a curse. There were more days when I swallowed words I had to say out of fear of being hated. I lived feeling that my very existence was a nuisance.”

The people grew solemn. Or perhaps, they were skeptical.

That the one about to ascend the throne would utter such weak words at the coronation.

Though they did not show it outwardly, some harbored such thoughts.

“But after leaving the empire and living as an individual rather than a princess, I realized how immature my thoughts had been. Some children had more days sleeping without a roof than with one. Some lived without knowing their parents’ faces or names. Some had to hide in the deep forested mountains, shunned by others. These were not the faces of strangers but of our empire’s citizens.”

Rike talking to children in the streets. She would share everything she had with them.

Was it sympathy, or was it a sense of responsibility?

“It is easy to complain about one’s circumstances. But to have the power to change those circumstances while still complaining is an opportunity not everyone has. And that was the true nature of what I thought was a curse. I was a student at Elfenbine, a mage, a friend, a disciple, a sister, and at the same time, a princess of the empire. I now give thanks for the opportunity given to me. It was an opportunity made possible only by the sacrifices of many who believed in and followed my sister and me. The empire will change. It is none other than I who will strive to make that change. I hope for a nation where citizens do not starve, do not tremble in fear of demon threats, and where the powerful are not arrogant.”

Friederike looked at her friend, her savior, the person who would soon leave and become a fond memory.

…It won’t be long.

Until she met him again.

Friederike believed this. She wanted to believe this.

The audience was so engrossed in her speech that they forgot to breathe.

Among those present, a faint sense of something began to sprout.

A vague premonition that something would begin to change from these two girls before them, who were now young emperors.


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