“Good morning, master.”

It is the next morning. I hear Changer greeting me as I come out of my room. I’m now used to our connection, so I no longer need to look around to know that he is currently in spirit form.

“Morning.” I don’t even try to hide that I’m still sleepy.

“You sound like you’re still asleep, master.”

“I’ll wake properly once I wash my face.”

I go to the bathroom and wash my face until I’m convinced that I’m sufficiently awake. And once I do, thoughts start surging in my mind.

Last night, after a whole day of walking around, I faced my first enemy. In the end, we didn’t fight, but still… Standing face to face with a magus, an enemy that had come to take my life, looking her in the eyes, feeling her magical energy, and most of all, witnessing a pair of legends fighting in our name… Although, according to what he says, mine does not technically qualify as a legend. Why did I summon a servant like that, again? No, he seems like a decent servant, I shouldn’t complain.

Anyway, at the end of the day, I was in no condition to talk and went to bed almost immediately upon returning home. Therefore, I haven’t yet talked to Changer about last night’s battle. I set my alarm clock to a whole hour earlier than usual. I don’t normally have breakfast unless it is Sunday, but I’ll make an exception this time. It will give us a chance to discuss things.

                *                             *                             *

“Hey Changer, let’s talk about last night.”

Since I live alone, I don’t use the dining room much, and now, as usual, I am eating breakfast in the living room. I look at where I feel Changer is, to be exact, where I’m guessing his eyes are supposed to be, and gesture toward a chair before me. But, he doesn’t sit and just stands by the corner.

“All right. What dream did you see? A scary one? You want to talk about that?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Sorry. About the fight, right?

I sigh and point toward the chair again.

“Materialize, will you? Talking like this feels weird.”

He obeys this time; becomes visible and sits. Now, this is certainly better.

“Yes, about the fight. And more.”

“Alright master, go ahead.” He says in a quiet and serious tone. He leans back and crosses his arms.

I look him in the eyes and ask him what’s been on my mind since last night:

“What was those things you said to me during your fight? You know, telepathically.”

He looks surprised. His eyes widen, and his eyebrows rise.

“I said something? I was focused on the fight, master. Only thing I remember saying is: ‘Brace yourself, master.’ I said it before we-”

“No, no, no.” I interrupt him. “I remember that one. It was obvious. I’m asking before that. In the middle of the fight.”

One of his eyebrows rise. “Then… nothing? Could you have misheard? Or mis-whatever-it-is-supposed-to-be-called-since-it-is-telepathy-and-so-is-not-voiced-and-cannot-be-heard-or-misheard?”

I frown. Those messages were clearly from him. They came from the link between us, so there is no way someone else sent them. Is he lying? Or does he not remember? Maybe he sent them accidentally. But, how can someone ‘accidentally’ send a telepathic message?

“I don’t think so. Maybe you forgot. Remember, you said Something-ano? Anano? You said it a few times. You said something else too, but I don’t remember that one.”

This time his reaction is very different. He leans forward and puts his hands on the table. He half-rises from his seat, and stares into my eyes while frowning.

“Narano and Karano?”

“Yes! Those two. You remember now?”

He sits back and crosses his arms again, but his expression doesn’t change and he keeps staring at me. I’m getting a bit uneasy.

“You somehow heard those? How? Why?”

He’s asking me? My voice unintentionally rises.

“How should I know; you said them. Why? What do they mean? And why should I not hear them?”

He pauses a bit but not for long. He looks around first, then gets up and goes to the cupboard.

“What are you doing?”

He opens the lid and takes a wineglass. I jump up. They are expensive, you know!

“Hey!”

“I’m just confirming something, master.”

He smiles. He doesn’t look like he intends to do something bad to the wineglass, so I stop.

“Just tell me if you hear this, master.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Daika.

The wineglass suddenly vanishes from his hand, and I hear a crash.

Wha-? No!?

Glass pieces fall from the ceiling. That must have been a spell he cast. The spell… threw the glass? What kind of useless spell is that?

“What about it, master?”

No, wait. I remember that word.

“Did you hear that?”

That’s the spell he used when he got stabbed.

“Master?”

“Shut up! You broke it after all. And, yes. I heard it.”

I can still save it. I go to the broken pieces. Einfang. I activate my magic circuits. I can feel the magical energy flowing within me. I close my eyes.

“Minuten vor Schweißen.”

Pieces slowly come together and retake their shape as the wineglass. Repairing it is easy, but still, seeing it get broken angers me.

“I-I just confirmed it with the fastest method I could think of.” He seems taken aback by my outburst.

I sigh and make a gesture toward the cupboard.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not that angry.”

I sit back down and watch him put the wineglass back in its place. He comes back and takes his previous seat.

“That confirms it then. I can hear the spells you cast silently. I wonder, why?”

He straightens his back and puts his hands together in front of him.

“I have an explanation, master, but I’m not sure.”

“Really? What is it?”

“First, I should tell you how I cast my spells. As you know, chants for a spell is like levers for a machine. It is what most magicians use to activate them. Depending on the chant, the casted spell changes. The more complex the spell, the longer the chant. At least for most magicians.”

I don’t speak. Up until now, he only spoke of the obvious.

“Using not voiced words, but voiceless thought as chants is normally risky. Revising or even just remembering how a spell is cast includes thinking its chant. Which would lead to a lot of accidental casting. On the other hand, one can easily avoid saying a word like ‘Daika’, so there really is no risk that way. But chanting aloud gives away your location and gives your enemy information. It also limits the speed with which one casts to the swiftness of the tongue. On top of all that, it also makes one vulnerable to silence spells and any environmental or other effect that prevents speech. Unvoiced spells clearly are superior, but risky. So I just found a way to bypass that risk.”

My magic crest is a great way to bypass that problem. But, if he has any other useful methods, I am all ears. He continues speaking with a monotonous voice:

“My method includes telepathy. Normally, in telepathic communication, there is one sender, and one or more receivers. I simply set the receiver to be myself. When I speak, I don’t cast. When I think, I don’t cast. When I send a telepathic message to myself, I cast.”

That’s a weird method. Technically, it could work, but, effective use of that method would require telepathy to be like a second nature to him. Could I do it? If I started training with that method when I was a child, sure. If I started using that method now? I wonder…

“My guess is, our telepathic link with you and my own telepathic link with myself somehow interfere with each other. Both work as they should, but they work together. I cast, and you hear. It is likely that if I tried to tell you the words telepathically, I would end up unintentionally casting it.”

He leans back and that marks the end of his explanation. I close my eyes and think for a while. I can understand the method he uses. It would be quite simple when you get used to it. It would still increase the complexity and therefore the difficulty of every spell, but not by much. No matter how used to one gets, the added complexity of using telepathy with every single one of your spells cannot be disregarded.

But he is a servant. That means, even in life, he was not an average human. It is safe to assume he has no trouble with casting spells that way. No, that’s not quite right. I saw him casting spells while exchanging blows with a superior opponent. That means there is no need to assume. I know he has no trouble.

I open my eyes and lock them on his. This might not look like a problem at first glance, but…

“That means every time you enter combat and use a spell, I’ll hear it.”

“That’s right.”

“That also means I’ll hear the spells you cast even if I too am fighting a fight of my own.”

“That’s right.” He looks apologetic.

“Can you figure out a way to prevent that? I don’t want my concentration to be disturbed in the middle of a fight by unneeded voices I hear in my head.”

He nods. “I’ll try to find out why they interfere with each other and separate them, if I can.”

“Good.” I continue with a more energetic voice. “Then let’s continue with what we know of our enemy.”