Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“Did you know everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“About the fragments.”

The pink veil tilted with her head.

“Binaeril, do you not know what the fragments are?”

“The fragments are the remnants left by Dekypleio… Ah.”

When Binaeril had retrieved the hidden page from the royal scepter in the capital of the Empire, Veritas had explained the nature of the fragments. They were the remnants of Dekypleio.

“Or do you not know who I am?”

“…I do.”

And the Tower Lord, Elfenbine, was Dekypleio’s lover. How had he not realized this sooner? If the fragments were Dekypleio’s power, she would undoubtedly know about them.

“You knew everything.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘everything,’ Binaeril. I don’t know what you know and what you don’t.”

She smiled gently from behind the veil. Binaeril felt an inexplicable sense of mild betrayal.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Questions are always matched to the questioner’s level of understanding, Binaeril. When you left, you knew nothing. Knowing nothing, you couldn’t ask any questions.”

The words sounded familiar, reminiscent of something Veritas had once said to him.

“You knew all along?”

“What do you mean by ‘all along’? That you discovered the Book of Truth? Yes, I knew. That you are using the Book of Truth to find the fragments? Of course, I knew. If I knew nothing, I wouldn’t have given you the Spirit Ring.”

“Are you also collecting the fragments, Elfenbine? If so, why don’t you retrieve them yourself?”

“Why should I collect them? I have the greatest gift he gave me.”

“A gift?”

Elfenbine’s veil fluttered as she looked around like someone admiring the scenery from a hilltop. Binaeril’s gaze followed hers. Wherever she looked, the landscape seemed to bleed through, like paint soaking into paper. When her gaze returned to its original position, Binaeril felt as if he had been looking out from the top of the Mage Tower, surrounded by the breathtaking view.

And all this time, Binaeril had not felt any magical aura. It was an extraordinary spell.

“Do you see? This Elfenbine. The very tower named after me.”

…Indeed.

The Archmage Dekypleio had left a magnificent and grand token for his lover: this enormous, mysterious tower.

But what Binaeril wanted to ask wasn’t about whether she had mementos to remember her old lover by.

“As you know, the fragments contain immense power. They are the crystallized remnants of Dekypleio’s magic… I apologize, of Lord Dekypleio’s magic. Some fragments even possess a unique consciousness. Yet you claim you have no interest in them?”

“I am interested. But I cannot take them.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the pact I made with him.”

A mage’s oath is an absolute constraint, sworn on the language that is the medium of their magic. If broken, they would no longer be able to infuse their language with magic. Binaeril realized that probing further could be impolite, regardless of the nature of her oath. Such oaths were the Achilles’ heel of mages, and questioning the details was considered a grave discourtesy.

“In that case, are you aware that someone from the Vitory Order is collecting the fragments?” Binaeril asked.

“It’s not hard to predict that someone would seek that power. Even if it weren’t the Order, anyone who understands the fragments’ power would want to obtain them,” Elfenbine replied dryly.

But to Binaeril, it wasn’t just anyone. It was his brother, Yunnaeril, who was collecting the fragments. Binaeril hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Speaking about Yunnaeril was intensely personal, steeped in their deep-seated emotions and unresolved history. It seemed inappropriate to discuss such matters with the Tower Lord.

“Binaeril, the fragments possess immense power. But they are also a terrible force. I know a man who was more deeply involved with that power than anyone,” she said.

Was she referring to Dekypleio?

“His end was not a good one, Binaeril. The reason I haven’t stopped you from collecting the fragments and why I’ve indirectly helped you is so that I could offer you my advice.”

“Advice like this?”

“Exactly.”

Although there was no trace of humor in her voice, Binaeril felt as though she might be smiling behind the veil. He decided to open up about the fragments, sharing most of what he knew.

“I see. It’s been a long journey, so you should rest in Elfenbine for a while.”

“I’ll probably leave once my companion’s matter is settled.”

“Where will you go?”

“The Book of Truth says the next fragment is in the southeast of the continent. I’ll head there.”

“…But you have a few days of respite, right?”

“A few days?”

Elfenbine nodded. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Her long, white fingers pointed at Binaeril.

“A favor only you can fulfill.”

Binaeril’s instincts warned him that it would be a troublesome request. 

When he returned to his quarters, Inyakan was waiting.

“That was quite a walk.”

“I’m tired. How about you?”

“Tired as well.”

Binaeril slumped onto the sofa, tilted his head back, and placed a damp cloth on his forehead. Finally, he felt some of the heat dissipate.

“What did you talk about?”

Curiosity followed the question. The combination of a northern barbarian and Elfenbine’s scholar seemed quite distant. What could they have discussed? As one question arose, it was quickly followed by a flood of others.

“That person was eager to ask about the Inya tribe and Barbaroana. It wasn’t about me, but rather about my origins.”

That was typical of Dean Yulio, whose scholarly curiosity was insatiable.

Unlike many who, upon becoming full professors, drift away from research or studies, Angelo Yulio was a born scholar.

“Are all mages like that? I wouldn’t want to speak with him again,” Inyakan remarked.

“Not all of them. He’s just special,” Binaeril replied.

“Special? More like eccentric. So, where have you been?”

Binaeril sighed. “The Tower Lord asked me to give a lecture.”

“The Tower Lord? A lecture?”

“Yes, the owner of this Elfenbine. She asked me to lecture the students about my experiences as a mage.”

Inyakan burst into laughter. “Ha! That’s like a chick teaching an egg how to walk.”

Binaeril bristled at the comment but then conceded. His life experience was limited to less than a year of hasty travels.

“This is ridiculous. I have nothing to say, and I’m not confident…” he grumbled.

After listening to him complain for a while, Inyakan waved dismissively. “Listen, Binaeril. Out of all the wanderers I’ve met, you’re the greenest. You have little experience. You even paid for a stranger’s meal without a second thought.”

“You didn’t complain when you were eating. What’s the problem now? What did I do wrong?”

Inyakan pointed a finger at him and waggled it. “That’s exactly it. If I’d had bad intentions, you could have ended up stripped and dead in an alley somewhere. You’re too soft. The world is harsh.”

“What’s your point?” Binaeril replied, his irritation evident. He knew Inyakan was right, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“The main reason you’re a rookie is that you don’t know who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know much about magic, but it’s not common to find someone who can face down a giant snake monster and kill a dozen armed soldiers in an instant.”

“Just because you’re soft doesn’t mean you’re not skilled. I can vouch for that. So, go ahead and give that lecture with confidence.”

Binaeril was touched by the praise. It was the first time Inyakan had openly complimented him.

“Inyakan…” Binaeril began, intending to express his gratitude.

“Got it, you foolish wanderer?”

And just like that, he canceled his gratitude.

Due to the recent murder of a professor, Elfenbine’s atmosphere was tense. The Mage Tower’s council was in an uproar, and a pursuit team was quickly assembled to track down the rogue mage responsible. The team included several professors with combat experience, some of whom were teaching during the semester. Consequently, there were gaps in Elfenbine’s classes.

Even senior professors like Dean Yulio had to cover classes they hadn’t planned on teaching, and it still wasn’t enough to fill all the gaps. The only ones who seemed happy about this situation were the students, who now had more free time.

“A special lecture? What a hassle.”

“Today’s a day off, and I was napping in my room!”

“What? Who’s giving a lecture? There aren’t even any professors around these days!”

The sudden announcement of a special lecture, as per the Tower Lord’s instructions, was enough to stir up the students’ annoyance. The announcement conspicuously omitted the name of the lecturer, another directive from the Tower Lord. None of the students could have predicted that Binaeril, who had been one of their classmates just a few months prior, would be the one standing at the podium.

This lecture was unique. Normally, lectures were divided between juniors and seniors, but today, both groups were gathered together. Among them were some familiar faces that Binaeril could recognize.

“Gospelt, haven’t you heard anything? I thought your dad was sponsoring a professor here,” one student asked.

Gospelt Louis had been a lobbyist, bribing Professor Freud Young to graduate from Elfenbine. But the professor who had been receiving bribes from the Louis family was now dead. As a result, Gospelt was pushed back from the selection of scholars and had returned as just another senior student. He had even lost his standing in his family due to his father’s wrath, and his life was now in shambles.

‘It’s all because of that bastard,’ he thought.

Binaeril Dalheim—an unforgettable name for Gospelt.

“No, nothing. That professor has been too busy to meet with me properly lately,” Gospelt lied, trying to maintain his facade among his friends despite the professor’s death.

As they chatted, the junior students began filing into the lecture hall. Gospelt and his group spotted a particular individual among them. Franz McLain, another dunce who had taken up the mantle from the perennial failure Binaeril. He was a prime target for their amusement.

“Hey, Franz! Come here.”

Franz pretended not to hear and looked away.

“Is he crazy? Hey, stinky Franz! Come over here!”

Franz couldn’t ignore them for long. Hugging his bag to his chest, he timidly approached Gospelt’s group. Apart from Gospelt, the faces were familiar to Franz. They were the same guys who used to hang out with Gillian Bemes. With Gillian replaced by Gospelt, they still roamed the Mage Tower, causing trouble and picking on other students just as before.