Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 19

Mana. Or rather, what is referred to as mana or magical power.

The first magician who granted miracles to people in place of the vanished witches — the first Tower Master, Iglesse — once said this: magic, which is far more overwhelming and even more beautiful than mere force, is the power that draws forth that very phenomenon.

Magicians who gathered around Iglesse soon began to appear everywhere and unite. The very first thing they did was to take the word magic away from the witches and claim it as their own.

The power that once passed from mouth to mouth as belonging to witches was no longer called magic. Instead, it began to be referred to as some sort of vile trickery, or something barbaric.

In any case, mana was one of the essential qualities of a magician. The quantity and quality of mana within determined the kinds of spells one could cast, and that became the standard by which ranks were divided.

Unlike witches, the magic of magicians, by comparison, was closer to something akin to artificial mathematics. This was because each spell required to cast magic was based on calculation structures so complex they seemed capable of making one’s head explode at a glance.

Over nearly two hundred years, magicians began to gather and slowly grew in number.

They eventually established their own kingdom — Sorten.
Sorten, though still a newborn nation that had to mind the Empire’s watchful gaze like any other small state, saw its population grow at an overwhelming pace. Magicians, as well as those who admired them, all flocked there.

Maeve.

The woman who was once called Eve was born between a father who revered magicians and a mother who so dearly loved that man that she decided to flee with him. The mother was a noble of a fallen kingdom, and the father was her knight. The couple, like any others, carried hope for a new future and became citizens of the magicians’ nation, Sorten.

……And thus, from here, the first tragedy began.

In that country, every child was tested for magical aptitude by magicians before they could even take their first steps. According to the magicians, every human possessed mana. Whether it could be manifested as magic or not was what determined if one could become a magician.

Eve, this pitiful infant, possessed such an immense amount of mana that it made the magician in charge of testing her raise his eyebrows all the way to his crown.

The couple — especially the father — wept tears of joy. The child was immediately given special treatment and transferred to a place where other children of exceptional talent were gathered.

However, Eve, unfortunately, could not use magic at all.

It was as if someone had tremendous physical strength and size yet could not learn a trace of swordsmanship or martial arts — born entirely inept in body despite the power she held.

Ah. It was at this point that Eve became somewhat special.

She possessed mana of such pure density and vastness that it made others’ eyes widen, and yet, she also had extraordinary physical strength.

From a young age, she would cry in her sleep and break her bed, crush toys simply by holding them, and once even grabbed her father’s ankle during a visit and spun him around.

That happened when she was only five years old.

Everyone called the young girl a freak. And it was by no means a term of endearment.

For this was the nation of magicians.

A land that considered warriors who wielded swords and spears to be the most foolish of all — and yet, here was a baby with immense strength.

And to top it off, she possessed a body overflowing with mana she could not even use.

That was truly…

A useless freak.

Eve, now a burden to everyone, was cast out from the cradle of the magicians and turned seven years old under the disappointed gaze of her father.

It was around that time that the second tragedy occurred. The third Tower Master — Fergus, the ruler of magicians, who was praised by all for his power even greater than that of the first Tower Master — returned after a long war.

Because of the prolonged conflict, he looked gaunt, like a man on the verge of starvation, his mana completely depleted. And then, when he asked if anything had happened while he was away, someone told him the story of Eve.

Your Majesty, the Great King.

Perhaps that child should be given to you…

Flash.

Maeve woke from her sleep, her entire body drenched in sweat.

‘It was a dream.’

Though she felt relieved, her mood was in ruins, as the dreadful past had been forcibly brought back to her mind. Even after coming to her senses, she stared blankly into empty space, her breathing rough and uneven.

The sounds around her reached her ears belatedly. She was on top of a wagon — she had fallen asleep curled up among the piled goods and had just woken up. The donkey that especially adored her let out a welcoming cry, poking its head toward her as if glad to see her awake.

Maeve scratched the bridge of the donkey’s nose and sat up.

It seemed to be already midday. The mornings around this time were usually much chillier and damper. She looked around again — the wagon was following a winding path deeper into the forest.

“Maeve.”

After the donkey, it was Rory who called out to her. Maeve turned toward him with a somewhat dazed expression.

“The sun’s already right up there in the middle. You were sleeping so hard you were even sweating.”

“……”

Maeve lifted her head wordlessly.

Rory didn’t mind and pointed somewhere with his finger.

“Look there. Seems we’ll finally be sleeping under a roof again after days on the road.”

Following the direction of his finger, she turned her head and saw a tiny speck of a building in the distance. The closer they got, the clearer it became — it was a small, cozy-looking wooden cabin.

Their group stopped near the cabin. As Rory had predicted, it seemed they intended to unpack and spend the night here before the sun set.

Maeve jumped lightly down from the wagon, and Craig approached with his usual arrogance, gesturing toward her.

“Attend to His Highness.”