Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

Inyakan’s voice was dry. The expression on the boy’s face, cradled in Inyakan’s arms, seemed peaceful. If not for the bloodstains around his mouth, one might have thought he was merely asleep. Inyakan used his finger to wipe around the boy’s mouth, but it was futile; the blood smeared further because of the blood on his own hands.

“Binaeril, I have one question.”

“What is it?”

“How did you know your leather pouch was here?”

The answer was ‘Veritas told me.’ But he couldn’t explain it that way. As Binaeril remained silent, Inyakan asked again.

“Is that part of the magic you showed me?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Can you find other things besides objects with that magic? For example…”

“For example?”

“Like people.”

In the short time Binaeril had known Inyakan, he had never seemed to be searching for someone. Was he not just a wandering bandit after all? This was entirely new information for Binaeril.

“Depending on the conditions, it should be possible. Tracking magic isn’t my specialty, but there are mages in Elfenbine who specialize in that kind of magic.”

“So, there are such mages in Elfenbine?”

Inyakan gently folded the dead boy’s hands. The boy’s tiny hands fit easily within Inyakan’s large palms. He was far too young to die like this. Corpses of soldiers, frozen in place, were scattered all around, looking like an expedition turned to stone by a basilisk from legends.

“You said you were heading to Elfenbine.”

“Yes, I have someone to meet there and a report to deliver.”

“I don’t know much about magic. I’ve only heard the name Elfenbine, but I’ve never been there.”

This was a seemingly contextless statement, but Binaeril understood the meaning beyond the words.

“Can you take me to Elfenbine?”

Honestly, Binaeril and Inyakan weren’t particularly close or well-acquainted. To Binaeril, Inyakan was just a skilled fighter and bandit. He couldn’t agree without knowing more—at least he needed to understand Inyakan’s purpose.

“Inyakan, who exactly are you looking for?”

“I once had a son about this age.”

The past tense implied loss.

“Are you from Barbaroana?”

Barbaroana referred to the vast polar regions in the north of the Empire, where young Duke Torben Dux had once fought. It was said that barbarians lived there. Inyakan often used the term “civilized people” disdainfully, and the auctioneer had advertised that the boy was captured from Barbaroana.

“Are you looking for your family?”

“My family is no longer in this world.” He shook his head slightly.

“Then who are you looking for?”

“I am searching for those who massacred the Inya tribe and killed my son.”

***

Crossing the borders of the Empire and running along the lands governed by the “kings of the kingless land,” one could eventually see something at the edge of their vision. For first-time visitors, it was impossible to discern when the towering spire had come into view. It appeared suddenly, like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, a symbol of magic.

Traveling for several more days towards the distant Mage Tower, it would eventually seem as if the tower itself had walked towards the traveler, with its entrance now looming before them. The return to the Mage Tower, the return to Elfenbine, was at hand.

Binaeril entered the tower with an indescribable mix of emotions. It had been a long time since he had breathed the air of Elfenbine. As he walked through the courtyard, people looked at him with curiosity and unfamiliarity. During his long journey, Binaeril had shed much of his youthful appearance, growing into a young man. The baby fat had melted away, replaced by the ease of someone who had faced many challenges.

Binaeril crossed the courtyard directly, heading for a specific destination. The research building of Elfenbine, up several flights of stairs, led him to a room with a distinguished nameplate. He adjusted the slightly crooked nameplate before knocking.

“Come in,” came the response after a curious pause, as if the room’s occupant was not used to visitors.

The nameplate read, “Dean Angelo Yulio.” Dean Yulio, seeing Binaeril after a long time, was so surprised that he dropped his monocle. Binaeril caught it with magic before it hit the floor, holding it suspended in the air—a playful gesture of greeting from a returning student.

“I’m back.”

Binaeril couldn’t help but laugh as Dean Yulio’s astonished expression seemed almost comical.

“Binaeril? No, Binaeril… Sir? No, that feels awkward. It’s been so long that I don’t even remember what to call you.”

“You used to just call me by my name, if I recall correctly.”

“Did I? Age seems to have taken a toll on my memory.”

“It’s rare to hear that a mage of your stature can’t overcome the passage of time.”

“True, those rumors don’t exist. Mages often have short lifespans.”

Binaeril got to the point. He was here to report the successful completion of the mission given to him by Dean Yulio.

“Rike, or rather Princess Friederike, has safely ascended to the throne as Emperor.”

“Yes, I received the report in writing.”

“Princess Friederike II and Princess Charlotte I have been crowned as co-emperors. The Empire now has two emperors.”

“A joint reign… It’s not an easy path, but if it’s those two, they’ll manage.”

“Emperor Friederike has expressed strong intentions to improve relations with Elfenbine.”

“That was what we hoped for. Upon hearing the news, Elfenbine has already sent a delegation.”

Binaeril’s report was now complete. He made an exaggerated bow, and Dean Yulio burst into hearty laughter.

“Binaeril, you’ve changed a lot.”

The once untrustworthy boy had grown into a full-fledged young mage.

“You haven’t changed at all, Dean.”

“No, I’ve aged a bit more.”

Dean Yulio’s eyes filled with pride as he looked at Binaeril.

“It was a tough mission, but you succeeded,” said Dean Yulio.

“I didn’t do much,” Binaeril replied, feeling embarrassed to meet the Dean’s gaze. He quickly changed the subject. “I noticed the atmosphere in the tower is quite unsettled. There aren’t many students around.”

“Ah, there has been some turmoil recently,” Yulio admitted, hesitating briefly. Since it was related to Binaeril, he decided to share more. “A professor was killed within the Mage Tower.”

“The culprit was a mage who had returned from a mission. The deceased professor was… Professor Freud Young.”

Professor Freud Young… dead? Binaeril blinked in surprise. Professor Freud Young had been his adversary throughout his time at Elfenbine and also his advisor.

“Who did this? For what reason? How could someone kill a professor at Elfenbine?”

Despite the barrage of questions, Yulio shook his head, indicating he could not divulge more. “Other professors are tracking the perpetrator. I can’t tell you anything further right now.”

The excitement of their reunion was abruptly replaced by a cold chill.

“Binaeril, I’ll arrange for a place for you to stay. For now, go and rest.”

“Wait, Dean. I have a favor to ask.”

Binaeril nearly forgot an important matter, distracted by the shocking news. “I need to find someone. It’s not my request, but that of a companion I met during my travels.”

Binaeril called Inyakan into the study. The one-eyed man with a shiny bald head, nearly as large as Dean Yulio, entered and bowed briefly.

“Greetings. I come from the land of Barbaroana, my mother’s homeland.”

Encounters with northern barbarians were rare, and the mention of Barbaroana made Yulio’s eyes gleam with interest.

“Are you the elder of the mages?” Inyakan asked directly, but his use of respectful language showed he was being as polite as he could manage. Binaeril knew this was a significant effort on Inyakan’s part.

“Elder? If you mean ‘Khan’ by your people’s terms, then yes,” replied Yulio. “I am a scholar.”

Binaeril was slightly taken aback by the term ‘Khan’. He remembered that Inyakan’s name meant ‘Khan of the Inya’.

“I am Inyakan,” he introduced himself.

“Inyakan? Are you saying you are the Khan of the Inya tribe?”

Inyakan nodded.

“Astonishing. The Inya tribe is known among the barbarians for its strength and fierceness. So, who is it that you seek, Inyakan?”

“I am searching for the ones who massacred my tribe and killed my son. This young friend said that I might find them here.”

Inyakan stayed in the Dean’s study as the two had more to discuss. However, Binaeril couldn’t head directly to his assigned quarters. Someone else was waiting for him.

“The Tower Lord summons you.”

“Elfenbine himself?” 

The Tower Lord welcomed Binaeril in the same manner as before. 

“Welcome back, Binaeril,” she said, seated with her legs crossed on a thick cushion, in the same pose as always. Binaeril playfully wondered if she might be a statue.

“I hear you’ve completed a difficult mission,” she continued.

“It wasn’t much. I didn’t do very much,” Binaeril replied modestly.

“Too much humility isn’t very good, you know,” she laughed.

“So, why did you call for me?” Binaeril asked.

“I just wanted to hear your stories. I find it difficult to leave this place, so listening to others’ travel tales is a small hobby of mine.”

Though Binaeril was a bit tired from his long journey, he couldn’t refuse the Tower Lord’s request. He recounted most of what he had experienced in the Empire: the spirits of the Hoenberg Mountains, the witch of Thornwinter Swamp, the dark mage goblin he met in the Empire, the people of Vinzburg and the lich Balram, his master the cursed sword Mimung, and even the paladins of the Order.

He omitted details about the page, causing his story to jump around a bit. The Tower Lord listened patiently without interrupting, absorbing every word.

“You’ve been through a lot,” she commented.

“Indeed,” Binaeril agreed, realizing the truth of it as he spoke.

“Eden must have had a tough time as well,” she noted.

Eden, hearing her voice, flew out and nestled in the Tower Lord’s arms. She gently stroked Eden’s head, like one would a cat.

“But Binaeril, there are some stories you haven’t shared with me, aren’t there?”

“…Excuse me?”

“How is the gathering of fragments progressing?”

Binaeril was startled and couldn’t answer immediately. The calm gaze from behind the veil bore into him.

“What did you say?” he stammered.

“The fragments, Binaeril. The items like your Book of Truth. How is the collection going?”