Chapter 7 – In which paper holds power

After Saffra entered the master’s bedroom, she bowed immediately.

“Saffra greets the Lord.”

“... Come closer…”

A weak, aged voice called her from the bed.

Saffra didn’t stand a ceremony, she approached the bed and sat down at the prepared chair. She made sure that her sticky red dress didn’t touch the chair, though.

No need to make more useless work for maids. This dress will be hard enough to clean later.

Maybe Saffra should just get rid of it.

She looked up from the dark red-brown stain on her thigh resembling a rabbit, and met a murky gaze of the man in the bed.

Lord Sulfious, the current ruler of the Sword Throne.

It was hard to believe that this thin, bony man, with dark circles under his eyes and drooping lips, was holding the highest military power in this country.

Saffra for the first time felt just how much the society had changed since her rule as Saffaron.

During her times as Saffaron, the life of every warrior was precious. When the warrior left the battlefield it was with great honor and regret.

If they were leaving the battlefield alive, they would be attended by their families and those they protected to the end of their lives.

If they were leaving the battlefield dead, they would be buried with great sorrow and the arias would be sung in their memory.

But the moment they left the battlefield they were no longer warriors.

Because a warrior was someone who fights and they wouldn’t be fighting any longer.

Saffaron held the Sword Throne because she never left the battlefield until the moment she died.

Only then she was made to let go of this throne.

But now, Saffra wasn’t facing a warrior like Saffaron.

Sulfious raised to the Sword Throne by seizing the opportunity about 50 years ago.

At the time, Rubrun held hands with the enemy nation and attacked Flavun.

Though Rubrun, Flavun and Purplus existed under the same flag, they were like prison mates held within the same cage.

If they could make one of two guys a little less existing, a cut a hand or a leg maybe, then it would be so much better, right?

And the enemy nation saw nothing but a chance to grab a bit of territory.

So, Flavun was attacked and fell into chaos.

The high ranks were quickly losing their power and the populace was suffering under the invaders.

There was a command gap between the two and Sulfious used that.

By getting rid of high ranks, taking hand of middle ranks and propagating his name among the common people, he took the throne.

And when he repelled the enemy nation's army, he even became Flavun's hero.

But now this hero was old and dying quickly.

There was a silence for a moment and then Sulfious asked:

“...Orche?”

“...There was an incident.”

Saffra answered in a subdued voice, as if she didn’t want to speak about it.

Sulfious’ gaze lingered at the reddest stain at Saffra’s dress. Thoughtful.

But Saffra could predict what he would say next.

He was a father who kept his distance from his children, but at least tried to provide them a way to live a decent life.

For example, though Saffra was raised as a lady, with a strong intention that she would be married off to someone, she received a much better and higher education than needed for a house lady. If she wished so, she was capable enough to make it off on her own.

Whatever it was out of love or a political maneuver, Saffra couldn’t tell, because she never experienced parental love, even in her previous life.

It didn’t matter though, because the outcome would be the same with either of the options.

“... Is there something you wish for?”

Bullseye.

As expected, directly facing the disgrace his younger daughter suffered at the hand of his oldest son, he moved to cover up for that.

If he was someone else father, Saffra would tell him to fuck off and go back in time if he want to make up for it, but she didn’t care if it was her father.

Because it was exactly the thing she needed.

She pretended to hesitate for a moment and then:

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“... Only one thing. Please leave your signature and seal on this paper.”

She took out a paper and handed it to him.

He looked at it confused.

There was a simple reason.

The paper was empty.

“When I'm in a precarious situation… I plan to use it. But I don’t know when and how I’ll need it yet… So it’s like that…”

“You plan on forging a fake document with my signature.”

“... I…”

“It’s fine.” He slowly moved to take out his pen and a seal. “But it won’t hold much power because it was made without a notary. You know that right?”

“Yes, I know.”

Yes, she knew that.

So when the time comes she planned to make this document very real with a little trick her older brother Ver taught her.

If the document was sealed with magic will there be anyone who denies its truthfulness?

“Here.”

She received an empty document with Sulfious’ signature and seal.

A blank check acquired.

*-*-*

When Sangria came back to young master Vern’s room, he found him scribbling magic formulas on the thick parchment.

On the floor.

Still in a bloody robe.

At least the needles were taken out, but it seemed that Vern couldn’t fathom an idea of dressing his wounds.

“Young Master…”

Sangria started talking and then hesitated when Vern gave him the look saying ‘Why are you interrupting my very important work?’.

“... What are you doing?”

“Writing an example spell formula.”

Sangria could tell that much. Quick glance told him it was some sort of fire spell, but he didn’t recognize it.

He was curious what this spell was and where it came from, but now he had a more important duty.

He asked with a soft voice:

“May I know what Young Master plans to do with it?”

“I plan to present it at the Magic Exchange tonight.”

Vern then frowned and stopped scribbling to look up at Sangria.

“There is an Exchange tonight, right?”

Sangria was left speechless for a moment.

“There is, but…”

‘What do you mean you plan to present it at the Magic Exchange tonight!? You just lifted a curse! Your body is so weakened it can barely stand! If someone recognizes Young Master we’re all doomed!’

“Great.” Vern seemed to have no clue what Sangria tried to scream at him with his eyes, as he calmly returned to scribbling the spell formula.

Silence fell between them as Sangria was left with his mouth hanging open.

“Young Master… You don’t mean to go to the Magic Exchange tonight, right?” Sangria tried to escape reality.

“No, I certainly plan to do it. If you have evening plans, you’re free to still enjoy them. I do not wish to disrupt Master Sangria’s plans.”

‘That’s not a problem here!’

“Young Master, you’re still very weak…”

“I’ll stay away from dark alleys and not pick up fights.”

“That’s not… What if someone recognizes Young Master?”

"I'm going to use disguise magic."

"... do Young Master have fake identity papers for his disguised form?"

Vern paused again and looked at Sangria with surprise.

"They check the identity at the Magic Exchange?"

"Yes, of course. Otherwise we would risk Purplus' terrorists sneaking into our gatherings or Flavun trying to steal our technology."

Sangria explained as he relaxed a bit, believing that he may be able to stop Vern from executing this terrible plan.

Sadly, he overestimated Vern.

"I see. Then I'll have to find someone who has rights to participate, knock them out, steal their face and identity papers and then participate as them…."

Sangria thought he misheard.

"Steal their face…?"

"An unusual disguise spell that exactly copies target appearance."

'Where did you learn such a sinister spell!?'

Sangria wanted to scream again.

But he had to stay calm otherwise he risked losing a chance to cooperate with Vern on whatever he was planning to do.

And he needed to ensure that Vern trusted him enough to cooperate with him, because if not, Sangria had a very bad feeling that Vern would sneak out alone and risk doing something very dangerous.

He quickly considered his options.

It was clear that Vern was determined to go to the Magic Exchange tonight. There was no way to stop him.

Then Sangria had to ensure that this operation is as low-risk as possible.

“Young Master, did you forget you belong to the Archmage family? Lord’s power may be crumbling, but we still have some trustworthy allies. One of them is the manager of the Magic Exchange tonight. If Young Master tells me his plan, I can inform him to make preparations.”

Vern looked up at him.

His eyes, a curious mix of bright and deep red, stared at Sangria unblinking for the second. The meaning behind that gaze was unknown.

Second later, Vern returned to drawing a magic circle as he spoke up, his tone carefree:

“There is no need to inform that person. If he is a manager, he should already send an invitation list, right? I’ll ask Master Sangria to find a few people who have a high chance of not attending that exchange on that list. And I’ll also ask for an example of the identity paper used at Magic Exchanges.”

Sangria ruminated over it.

“Young Master, are you planning on impersonating an absentee?”

“Correct. After thinking about it, stealing their face won’t be needed. It’s much better if I play the role of a stranger who fabricated his papers and bribed someone to let me in. If everything looks so clearly fake, it will have a much stronger effect.”

“And that effect would be?”

Vern glanced at him again, with a slight smirk in the corner of his lips.

“A combustion effect. I plan to set the mage society on fire tonight, Master Sangria.”

Looking at the example spells scattered on the floor, Sangria suddenly felt his back turn cold.

*-*-*

Amara looked at the girl in front of him with an expressionless face.

“Phlox, the best performing devotee of the Thousand Gods Temple, greets His Excellency!”

She bowed three times in the row in a mere second, before Amara was able to stop her.

He asked her to sit down, at which she shouted ‘To sit with His Excellency is a blasph—!’, but his years of experience kicked in before she could finish.

“If it’s a blasphemy to offer a seat to a guest who traveled a long way, then I shall suffer a punishment, but if it’s a blasphemy not to treat a guest generously and not even offer them a seat, then I shall also suffer a punishment. From the two, I much prefer to suffer punishment for being kind, than suffer for being cold. Please have a seat.”

She sat down.

While offering her cookies and tea, Amara judged her with his spiritual sense.

Gods also chimed in.

*Oh, that one’s soul is bright.*

*I remember her! She once stormed my temple and set the altar on fire to expose that the temple head priest was embezzling temple’s funds!*

*And you just let it happen?*

*I didn’t know what embezzling was! I just thought that his guy really needed money!*

*It’s not wrong. This guy must need money. To satisfy his DARK URGES OF GREED.*

*I think I got a flower.*

*You embezzled money for dark urges to get a flower?*

*NO! That girl gave me a flower.*

*Oh, you poor soul. Do you want some embezzled money?*

Amara’s spiritual deduction seemed to align with what gods in his head said.

This girl truly was a devotee, with a strong connection with gods.

Then Amara could use it.

“Miss, do you mind folding a crane with me?”

“Folding a crane?”

“Yes, please just follow my actions.”

Amara calmly said, ignoring Phlox's confused look, as he took out a paper sheet and started to fold a crane.

His actions in ordinary people’s eyes bear no significance, but Phlox, who was trained as a priest and had strong connections with the spiritual world, would be able to sense it.

Amara was performing a ritual. And he wanted Phlox to do the same.

The girl appeared quick witted as she didn’t ask any more questions and carefully repeated Amara’s actions.

Soon, two paper cranes faced each other and then…

‘I offer thee a gift, I ask for thee grace.’

Amara quietly completed a ritual.

An invisible power enveloped two cranes and then linked them with a thin shining thread.

But of course, Amara already confirmed that though there were quite a few servants around, only two people would be able to see it.

Him and a girl sitting across from him, Phlox.

He touched a crane and spoke to her through the telepathic link that was established:

[Priest Phlox. I heard that you’re quite adept in burning heretics and corruption?]

Though Amara’s face remained expressionless, his eyes seemed to be smiling darkly.