The Bonds We Formed, Like Magic | Chapter 14

[healingbonds]

Chapter 13 << | index | >> Chapter 15


Before the two of them manage to turn around, the skull swells to massive size, its jaw gaping wide open.
Groaaar........It emits a deathly howl as ghoulish pinpricks of light gather and spill from its mouth.
And then.......

Figaro: Stop, Mithra.

I hear Figaro’s voice.
Mithra directs an impassive, frigid gaze towards Figaro — but his expression changes in an instant.
For Figaro has violently grabbed Mitile by the back of his collar, holding him up next to his floating orb.
Like a hostage.

Mitile: D-Dr. Figaro?

Figaro: Mithra. Stop right there. You understand what I’m doing, right?

Mithra’s green eyes dazzle with the fierce radiance of a belligerent beast.
But in a blink, the fierceness flickers out. He exhales, releasing a scornful laugh as he gazes down at Figaro.

Mithra: Ridiculous.... Your threats mean nothing.
You’ve turned into a spineless coward in the Southern lands — you could never kill Mitile.

Figaro tilts his head and smiles bitterly.

Figaro: Who do you think I am?

Mitile: ....Kill? Dr. Figaro.....?

Bradley: Ahaha! Things sure are heating up.

I hear a roar of laughter from the rooftop. Bradley looks down at the unfolding scene, his rifle cocked.

Bradley: Let’s see — when should I jump in? Who should I back up? Now this is a gamble worth betting on.

All at once, his words ignite the tension in the air. Figaro and the twins share looks of dismay.
Bradley’s an expert at wielding reinforcement magic. Just as he amplified the power of his gang of bandits, he could also choose to give a boost to anyone here.

Figaro: .....You always conjure a storm in the tides of battle when you show up.

White: Be a good boy, Bradley! Model prisoners are granted pardons. You’re on our side, right!?

Bradley: I wouldn’t be too sure about that. —Hey, Southern tiny!

Mitile: .......!

Bradley: Want me to save you?

Mitile: .....Eh....?

Mitile blinks, and Figaro quietly clicks his tongue.
Joining the fray, the scenery beside Mithra flickers hazily.
I strain my eyes, and the smoke, like a heat shimmer, gradually coalesces into a human figure.
It’s Owen.

Cain: Owen......!

Owen: Then I guess I’ll side with Figaro.
You want to turn that boy to stone, right? Dr. Figaro.

Figaro: .....Thank you, Owen.

Mitile: You’re lying, right, Dr. Figaro...? Please tell me you’re lying....!

Mithra: Are you lying?

Owen: I wonder.

Figaro: ......... You can’t afford to consider that possibility right now, Mith.....

Mitile: .....Let me go.....! You’re not the real Dr. Figaro! You’re a fake! Go away.....!
Save me, Mister Bradley!

Bradley: << Adnopotensum >>

Bradley fires his rifle, the bullet heading straight for Figaro.
Figaro shoves Mitile away with a bitter expression and lifts his orb high into the air. He’s about to utter his spell.
But before he can, another wizard’s spell echoes across the courtyard.

Faust: << Satillquinart Mullcreed >>

Shino: Faust....!

Heathcliff: Mr. Faust!

Faust’s mirror releases a pure white light.
Enveloped in that light, the bullet loses its momentum.
It eventually breaks through the wall of light, but by then Figaro has made it to safer ground.
I spin around to look at Faust, and see him standing next to Shylock, Murr....
Nero, Riquet, Rutile, and Lennox.

Riquet: Mitile....!

Riquet darts towards Mitile to help his friend get back on his feet.
He drops something as he does, and it scatters all over the ground.
Before I can check on it, the next mysterious spell envelops the courtyard.
It’s the luxuriant fragrance of roses.
Wafting over with the smoke of Shylock’s pipe.

Shylock: .............

Shylock stands back to back with Faust, glancing at me from over his shoulder.
His haughty stance grabs the attention of the Northern wizards, who freeze in place.
Everyone is trying to glean what Shylock is doing with his hands, hidden from view because his back is turned to us.
It’s really something so minute. It concerns them, but not to the point where they’d force him to turn around with magic.
Because if they did, someone else might attack them.
But it still bothers them. Ever so slightly.

Shylock: My, my.....

Shylock murmurs, his voice like sugar as he flashes us a graceful and bewitching smile.
His gestures are deliberately sedate: the amorous glance he steals sideways, the delicate smile he forms with his lips.
His hair tousled by the breeze, his fingertips cuddled against his pipe — they all craft a beautiful trap for his hostages.

Shylock: What a pleasant, cool breeze. You know, I trimmed my fingernails last night.
I filed them quite scrupulously.... And rubbed them well with oil.
We’re traveling tonight, so I had to close shop, you see? That was why I chose a fragrant oil, and delicately, carefully....
Made them shine.
Fufu......

Shylock brings his pipe to his lips. He languidly inhales the smoke, and exhales a cloud.
The smoke covers the courtyard like morning dew.
He giggles, then softly strokes the back of his ear.

Shylock: ....That is all.

And the conversation meets an abrupt end.
By now, for some reason or another, everyone standing in the courtyard has completely lost the will to fight.
The murderous tension that once filled the air has dissipated, leaving an innocent exhaustion in its place.

Akira: (Wh.....)
(What just happened....?)

I stand there, spacing out, with my mouth hanging open. When I snap back to my senses, I hurriedly look at Oz and Mithra.
The terror is completely gone from their presence; instead, their gazes idly wander through the air.
Like a final blow, Shylock calls Chloe’s name.

Shylock: Chloe.

Chloe: Y-yes!

Shylock: Why don’t you show everyone the outfits you prepared for the party?

Chloe: ....Ah.....! R.... Right....!
<< Suispicibo Voitengok >>

When Chloe utters his spell, the wizards instantaneously change into their party attire.
Each country has a different characteristic design, each equally refined.
The courtyard, smashed to smithereens, nevertheless regains its jubilant atmosphere.
The Northern wizards should’ve been able to reject Chloe’s magic if they wished.
Yet Shylock’s sudden small talk utterly depleted their fighting will; they’re completely baffled.
I too raise my voice in an attempt to alleviate the savage atmosphere.

Akira: They’re absolutely lovely! Everyone looks great! You’re all so handsome....!!
Chloe, thank you for these wonderful outfits!

Chloe: You’re welcome!

Oz: ............

Mithra: ...........

Oz and Mithra are also silent.
They missed their chance to tuck away their magical tools, but you can sense that they’re both thinking, "We can’t start fighting again now...."
Figaro calls on Arthur with a voice as cheerful as my own.

Figaro: Arthur, come here. You’re still such a mischievous boy. Let me tend to you.

Arthur: Sir Figaro......

Figaro: Here, show me your face. Look, Oz — you’re supposed to tend to his wounds before doing anything else.
Rutile, Leno. Can I ask you to take care of Mitile? I’m sorry for shoving you aside like that.

Mitile: ...........

Arthur stands before Figaro. Figaro touches Arthur’s cheek and casts a healing spell.
Rutile and Lennox rush to Mitile’s side.

Rutile: Mitile, are you okay?

Mitile: ....I’m fine.......

Lennox: I saw what happened. You did an amazing job, going along with Dr. Figaro’s ruse like that.

Mitile: Ruse....?

Lennox: He was tricking Mithra to get him to stop fighting. It’s a tactic that’s used in the military too. You put on a great act.

Mitile: Y-yes! Dr. Figaro and I did our best together!

Rutile: I’m proud of you. Riquet.... Riquet, what’s wrong? Were you hurt too?

Rutile says to Riquet, who is huddled on the ground next to Mitile.
Riquet is gathering something up from the ground like it’s a precious treasure. His shoulders are slouched over in sadness.

Riquet: I dropped the pies.... That we baked first thing in the morning......

Nero: ....Don’t worry. We can still eat these.

Nero speaks up.
He smiles at Riquet while helping him salvage the pies.
Then he turns his gaze to Mitile, who sits on the ground still pale from fright, and looks across the ruined courtyard before letting out a quiet, long sigh.
His blue-amber eyes, usually filled with a listless and gentle ambiguity, narrow precariously.
The anger in his gaze is fixed upon the Northern wizards with a brilliant intensity.
Fierce enough to steal my breath away.

Nero: Stepping all over these little guys’ young hearts....
If you can’t protect your honor without making them cry, then toss that shit in the trash! You’re fucking pathetic.....

Oz, Mithra, and Owen all stare at Nero, their eyes wide.
Bradley strokes his chin and mumbles.

Bradley: ....He’s fucking terrifying......

Nero picks up the last of the pies in silence. He pats Riquet on the head and hands him the box of pies.
Then, his expression turns pensive, and he scuttles off to hide behind Faust’s back.

Nero: .....My blood boiled over and I blew up..... .....I think I might die tonight......

Faust: No need to hide. You were splendid. Stand proud.

Nero: Hell no..... I can’t even look at them. Are Oz and Mithra looking this way?

Faust: They sure are.

Nero: Oh god. It’s over. I’m dead......

Faust: You were splendid.

Faust seems genuinely impressed. The same goes for Shino and Heathcliff.
They’re looking at Nero with smiles that say they’re ready to high-five their teammate for doing a fantastic job.

Snow: ....Goodness gracious. Well then, I suppose it’s time to head to Borda Island.
Oz. You’re going to listen to my orders this time.

Oz: I have never once followed your orders.

White: You shouldn’t be needlessly inflammatory! Oz. Could you carry us to Borda Island?

Oz turns away from them and looks to me.

Oz: If that is the Sage’s wish.

Akira: Ah...... I apologize for troubling you, but if you could......

Mithra: Hang on.
I refuse to travel by Oz’s magic. I’ll open a door in space.
<< Arthim >>

Akira: T-thank you.

Mithra: Sir Sage, you’re traveling this way.

Akira: Okay, well then......

Oz: Sage.
Come this way.

Akira: Huh......!?

Mithra: Sir Sage, you’re coming with me, right?

Akira: Um......

Oz: Sage.

Mithra: Sir Sage.

Akira: Oh dear......

Figaro: Your decisions here are of critical importance. Make sure you keep them both happy so we don’t erupt into a free-for-all war again.

Bradley: If you mess up, you might just die.

Owen: Ooh, maybe I’ll join too. Sir Sage, want to ride on my broom?

Murr: You’re so popular, Sir Sage!

Akira: (Oh god.... No matter what I do, I’ll be terrified out of my wits.....)
(I didn’t realize your heart got such a workout when you’re popular.....)

In the end, I asked them to decide by rock-paper-scissors.

Chapter 13 << | index | >> Chapter 15