The sorcerers receptioni.., p.22
The Sorcerer’s Receptionist: Volume 3, page 22
That said, I don’t want another breakfast with Rockmann. Not until every star falls and all mountains are blown to dust. That constant sense of defeat I had this morning—horrible way to wake up.
Just you wait, Rockmann. One day, I will beat you at something, and the whole world will be watching to see me do it.
And so the year came to an end. I was finally entrusted with all the responsibilities of working the night shift. This year is my year, I thought. Working hard in both my magic studies and at my job, I shall become unbeatable.
The Council of Kings and the Knights’ Round Table
In the Kingdom of Vestanu, in a room of Castle Bahtzen:
“Let us begin the final Council for the Wall Helenus.”
Every inch of the room is glimmering with light. The expansive room is carpeted with the furs of silver wolves, illuminated by the subtle scarlet glow cast by the fine glass lamps hanging from the walls and ceiling. In the center of the room, a massive table has been fashioned from thousands of pale sapphires, bound together with magic to form a smooth circle, around which twenty silver thrones are arranged.
The ornamental engravings on each throne differ, with one bearing the image of a fierce lion and another with a flower in full bloom carved deep into its back. The unique engravings are all vivid and artfully done, fitting designs for the seats of kings. In each seat sits a royal, anticipating the discussion to come.
One King, with deep lines on his face and a thick, black beard, surveyed the rest. He is the King of Vestanu, and he sits on the Lion Throne. He interlaces the fingers of both hands as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.
“King Doran,” he says, “as the host for the upcoming tournament, have you words of wisdom to share with the rest of us?”
The King of Vestanu, Malifa, is the host of this Council of Kings, this Bacches. He’s addressing the King of Doran, Zerolight, who sits on the Flower Throne.
“We have said all that needs saying. The day after tomorrow, it begins.”
Zerolight speaks in a relatively loud voice, as if he is attempting to lift the mood of the gloomy chamber, as if he were attempting to encourage himself. He needs encouraging, for he feels about to sigh with exasperation at the thought of a prolonged absence from his wife the Queen Consort, and his children the Princes and Princess. To distract himself, he rubs his thumb against the cold metal of the throne’s armrests.
Doran may indeed be the “Kingdom of Flowers,” but could something not be done about this feminine engraving? I am a King, not a Queen. He glares reproachfully over at Malifa. I am sure he prepared this design especially for me.
The two of them are participating in a Council of Kings, a Bacches, held to celebrate and affirm the friendship of neighboring countries at a place for cordial conversation.
Invitations for Council meetings are usually sent out once every month or two, but in the past half year they had been meeting twice a month, a rather high frequency for these sorts of attendees.
Vestanu has been hosting the Council meetings for half a year. Before that, the host had been the Principality of Haruluku, a realm in the northwest of the continent.
Between the Principality of Haruluku and the neighboring Kingdoms of Doran and Vestanu lie six other countries. As it is close to neither, normally there would be little interaction between people of Haruluku and the thrones of Flower and Lion.
What Haruluku’s presence at this meeting means, then, is that while this Council had originally been a meeting of the Kings of neighboring countries, it had at some point expanded to include every King on the continent for intensive discussions on wide-ranging issues.
King Zerolight had never predicted it would get this big, back at the beginning of it all. Well, perhaps he had predicted it, but even so, he is unable to hold back a troubled sigh of worry as he thinks of the problem before him.
Within his Kingdom, demons are growing more numerous. Other Kings around the table might wish to cancel the tournament, but all felt unable to do so. That mysterious demon, the Devil that never failed to utter the name Städal, had appeared in other places all over the continent.
There are, of course, mountains of other issues they might discuss, but it is this problem, this demon issue, that has demanded their deliberation and a decision on what must be done. It has demanded that they fulfill their duties as sovereigns sworn to protect their realms.
In two days’ time, the Wall Helenus will begin. The Kings all are concerned about the tournament itself, and what might happen there. The Devil had, up until now, limited itself to appearing before gatherings of aristocrats and their Kings. But at this Wall Helenus, as had been the custom at all the previous tournaments, Kings and aristocrats from all over the continent would be gathered together in one location. Might the Devil make an appearance before them all, revealing itself to the common folk watching the competition?
All of them know the likeliest answer to this question.
From the Serpent Throne, engraved with the image of the snake god Opis, the youthful King of Orcinus speaks up. “Perhaps we should be thinking of this differently. There may be an attack on the tournament, but there will also be a large number of mages there. Surely the competitors, our strongest and fiercest magic wielders, shall prove more than a match for this Devil.” His voice, young and strong, sounds high and clear in the lamplit chamber. Despite his age, he speaks with the same confidence of his elders.
Given their involvement in the Orcinus Operation, Zerolight, Malifa, and the King of Sheera all take the Orcninus King’s words somewhat differently from their peer Kings. They look at him carefully to discern his intentions, their attention drawn by his apparent confidence. The current matter of discussion has a great deal to do with Orcinus. All of them must be careful in both how they speak and how they act.
The reason all of them are gathered together like this is, of course, due to the appearance of the strange demon, the Devil, in each of their countries.
It had begun with the inland countries. Once realms as far off as the Principality of Haruluku made known the presence of the Devil within their domains, however, it had been thought better for all of them to come together as one to jointly deal with the problem. The Devil had, however, caused almost no practical damage to anyone or anything, and had merely shown up to terrorize and threaten all those who saw it. That being said, there was no denying the fact that the number of demon sightings had been rising all across the continent. They absolutely could not let their guard down.
Doran had decided to send envoys to each of the continent’s twenty realms so that they could be gathered here today for this meeting.
“Were we to suddenly cancel the tournament, the common folk would only grow more uneasy.”
“Were we to expect our competitors to fight demons at the risk of their own lives, I’m sure they would grow uneasy. We must let them know. If we keep this Devil secret from the world, we shall surely lose a great deal of commoners when it comes to light. We stand to lose their trust, or worse.”
“Then there’s that other news, about the new continent that was discovered—with more than half of the animals consisting of demons and their ilk. There are far more demons in the world than we had previously imagined. The peoples of the continent must be made aware of their existence.”
“Should we reveal all this at once, why, we’d have a mass panic.”
“—Ahem.”
One of their number clears his throat to draw the attention of the other Kings, interrupting their tense exchange.
“I shall make an announcement at the opening ceremonies.”
Zerolight clears his throat once more.
“I shall inform the public of the current situation. I shall describe the increase in demonic activity and the accompanying dangers, as well as emphasizing why it is necessary that we hold this tournament in such circumstances: to unite all our realms against a common foe.”
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
“The Knights of Vestanu have arrived.”
“Prince Zenon, Sir Grove—my apologies for our tardiness.”
Zenon and Grove look up at the man who sits astride a phoenix, both a little out of breath from their landing. The man is none other than Sarenja Borizurie, a Knight of Vestanu. He climbs down from his blue phoenix’s back, plants his feet on the ground, and turns to greet them.
He has ochre-colored hair and a clean-cut visage, and is wearing the close-fitting, green uniform befitting a Knight from Vestanu. The uniform makes his legs look even longer as he steps lightly alongside them, heading towards the Order’s fortress. His walk is that of a man who’s been here many times before, for he does not falter or wander in his stride across the grassy landing area.
Zenon walks at the head of their little group, with Borizurie careful to remain a step or two behind and to the right of the Prince. On Zenon’s left walks Grove, who begins speaking of what needs to be discussed at the Round Table today. Both Zenon and Borizurie look most serious as they listen to him.
In the corner of their eyes, one can see reflections of the massive arena that has been constructed to float in the air next to the Royal Isle.
It is the day after the Council of Kings.
Knights from every realm are gathering as well, to discuss the information their Kings had brought back from their Council. The stated point of their meeting is to discuss a plan of action for any sort of “incident” that may occur during the tournament, but in truth, this gathering of Knights is nothing short of a strategy meeting for how they are to fight the demons menacing every part of the continent. The location for their meeting is, of course, the host kingdom for the tournament: Doran.
“Why, out of all the magic types, does it have to be Ice?”
They have arrived at the fortress belonging to the Royal Order of Knights of Doran. Next to the gray barracks lay the wide-open grassy field they used for training, along with two other buildings: the commander’s personal quarters and the conference hall that doubled as their cafeteria.
Inside the fortress’s conference hall are gathered the leaders of each Order of Knights from around the continent, around forty men in all. They have on green, blue, red, and brown garb, and each wear the tough, intense expressions one would expect of them. As this is the second time in three months that they’ve gathered together, they’ve already made themselves well acquainted with each other, and their discussion proceeds smoothly. They are all surrounding a large round table as they speak, but not a one of them is sitting, for no chairs are present at this table.
The one leading the discussion is the Knight Commander of Doran, Grove. He has a map of the continent spread out on the table in front of him as he addresses the others. A gathering of all the top Knights in the land attracts attention and concern from aristocratic superiors, and it is with expressions of watchful caution that various ministers of state standing behind the circle of Knights oversee the proceedings.
Among the ministers is Marquess Caromines. His red hair is not as conspicuous as it normally would be, likely because of the red uniforms of various Knights scattered around the room. Red hair is in and of itself a rather unusual trait to possess, and usually attracts the gaze of all those around him, but he hardly merits any special attention from the others, colorful as they themselves are in origin, rank, and hairstyle. He stands behind and between Zenon and Grove, arms folded, listening closely to every word spoken.
“The traces of demonic magic we followed all the way across the ocean have disappeared.”
“The Devil has appeared in a new Kingdom, one neighboring Doran.”
Both of these matters had been discussed in the Bacches, the Council of Kings.
“It’s come to our attention that demons are, apparently, weak against the attack magics used by Ice-type mages.”
This is, of course, the real topic of today’s conversation: how to use this newly discovered weakness in their joint operations against the demons.
“We’ve verified the number of Ice-types in our Kingdom to be as few as seven individuals.”
“You are blessed to have seven. In Morondo, there are far fewer than that.”
The number of Ice mages in every country is far lower relative to the other types. After the horrible incident in Orcinus a year prior, resulting in the deaths of several valuable Ice mages, they are even fewer than before.
“Why, indeed, do Ice-types have the ability to better fight the demons?”
And so the topic of discussion moves onto the Queen of Orcinus.
“According to the current King of Orcinus, King Gouzukrin—who was Crown Prince at the time of the Operation—the former aide to the Queen has been heard saying that it ‘wasn’t enough,’ when interrogated about what the Queen did to those mages.”
“‘Wasn’t enough’?” A minister standing behind the Knights raises an eyebrow and his voice as he asks this. “Was he referring to the collecting of blood?”
Borizurie answers him. “It most likely was referring to the amount of Ice mage blood she had gathered.”
“If demons are weak against Ice-types, there is the possibility that this Devil was working as hard as it could to eliminate Ice mages entirely.”
“Well, if Ice-types are their natural enemies, wouldn’t it be natural of us to gather all the Ice mages of the continent and have them help us fight them off?”
“About that—”
A Knight dressed in black raises his hand. It’s Alois. The conference hall is crowded and noisy, but his clear, calm voice cuts across the table to interrupt every conversation in the room.
“I do not believe that would be wise.”
He looks up from the map he’s holding in his hands, with all of its careful notes detailing where demons have appeared recently, to meet the gazes of the ministers around him.
Zenon’s surprised at his sudden interjection. “Alois?” He hasn’t seen him since earlier this morning, and hadn’t thought he’d be here. I guess he is the palace’s Chief Mage...but shouldn’t he be busy doing something else right now? I thought he’d be casting defensive magic circles around the Isle to protect us, or leading his subordinates around the arena to investigate it for any building flaws and test its durability. When did he get here, anyway?
“Should we gather together all those it most wants to have,” Alois continues, “we will be doing exactly what it wants us to do.”
One of the ministers standing across the table doesn’t look convinced. “Even so...”
Alois completely ignores him. One might even say he looks a bit irritated at being contradicted.
His golden hair hangs loose, flowing down to his chest, shifting and shimmering with every slight movement he makes, like the very flickering of a candle’s flame.
Of course he’s irritated. What’s being proposed is to essentially use Ice mages as bait to lure in the Devil.
This whole tournament’s one giant piece of bait, if you ask me.
Each country is aiming to, essentially, use the tournament to draw in every demon from across the continent and then exorcise them all at once. Rather than an exorcism, what they truly are planning for is an extermination.
Canceling the Wall Helenus would require the consent of a majority of the participating countries. Zenon’s father, Zerolight, had at one point sought for them to come to a consensus around canceling the tournament, but the only royals that had supported him had been those from the neighboring countries of Vestanu and Sheera, nowhere near enough to force a cancellation, despite what he might wish.
That is how the King had been forced to push on with the Wall Helenus, forced to plan and host a massive tournament that brought little else but honor and prize money to the winning teams.
The other Kings must know what they are doing: using Doran as demon bait. Why else would they have arranged for this strategy meeting to be held, and sent their own Knights to work the security detail?
“Now now, gentlemen. We surely can all take heart in the fact that we are blessed with the presence of not one, but two Ancient-class mages among our ranks.”
“Were the gods to truly answer our prayers, an Ice mage with Ancient-class abilities would appear. That would be heartening indeed.”
“For that, we must rest our hopes that such a one shall come to the Wall Helenus and reveal themselves in the competition.”
Alois glares at the ministers having this discussion, unable to conceal his disgust. Repeatedly, he presses a finger against his lips as if to restrain himself from reprimanding them for expecting for someone else to solve their problems.
My Third Year as a Receptionist Lady, Part One
“Come here.”
“Come here.”
“Not enough.”
“Not enough.”
“Satisfy me.”
Scarlet light falls through the windows.
“Nnnnngh...”
I rub my eyes as I get up from my bed. Sunset already?
My feet drag against the floor as I make my way over to the washbasin. I take one look at my drowsy reflection and throw some cold water on my face to wash away the sleep. It’s just about time to be heading into work.
I’m starting my third year as a receptionist lady. Time passed by so quickly.
By the time I walk in through the Guild doors, I’m still fixing my sleeves so that they hang right while biting back a yawn. The first thing I smell is that subtle aroma of wood permeating the whole building—then I smell what’s cooking in the canteen. I haven’t eaten any breakfast this morning, and I’m practically drooling at all the flavors in the air. It’s okay, I can do this; I’ll eat some of that meat during my break. Before my shift starts, I better go put in an order with the old man working the kitchens tonight.
As I’m walking through the guild office, I greet everyone I see, making my way towards the desk where Ms. Zozo is sitting. She’s just finished the day shift, and I’ll be taking over her position for the night shift.
