Sand-Coloured Melancholy, Blue-Silver Riot

"Hey — the theory here I do not get at all, what's going on?"

"Late to ask, but really — how exactly do you stitch a formula whose theory you yourself don't understand?"

"Ask the Heroic Spirits."

"Truly — I'd love to."

A few minutes after Merea got to the library.

On entering the room, Merea had said We're holding a banquet today in shorthand to Lilium and Aiz, then promptly sat down beside Lilium.

For book-immersion, Lilium — for some reason — held the feral conviction that floor is best, and was on the floor of the library, page-turning. Merea, copying, planted himself on the floor too.

"Ah — speaking of, Shaw really hasn't shown."

"Yeah. Hasn't, come, no."

"Talking with him in town earlier, the gold-fixation in his eye was barely held back… I thought it'd shake out this way."

Merea, from his cross-legged position, sent the line over to Aiz on a troubled-shape smile.

After a hand-rake at his hair, can't be helped, that one, he shrugged.

"Mind, possibly he'll come once he's blitzed the money-counting."

"Hehe. Going by what Merea-kun says, in the end — what needs doing, gets done, I think."

Aiz, smiling, returned that to Merea.

To it Merea sighed through his nose, and pointedly shrugged again.

"Merea — eyes off."

"Ah — yes."

Merea, summoned back by Lilium.

Aiz, on the verge of taking a chair, was caught up in their interaction and walked back over to Lilium.

In the two of them's hand — on the floor — a complex, blink-pulsing pattern was drawn.

A spell-circle.

Almost certainly Merea's deployment.

"So this is 〈White Lightning of the Lightning God (Celesta Barca)〉…"

"Yes, yes."

"This flinches the eye. Hard to believe a fellow human knitted this. The freely-wielded singular white lightning — the phenomenon-formula side alone is a lot — but the truly horrifying part is the enormous number of variable-formulae baked in to make it adapt to a human body. Looking at this, I'd say this white lightning was designed, end-game, to be worn on the body the way you wear it."

"Oh."

"It's about the formula you use, you know."

"Hai…"

Lilium speared Merea with a sharp side-glance; Merea, like a frightened dog, head-bobbed in apology.

"And — you want to decode it further and handle it more finely."

"Yes. Among the Heroic Spirits' formulae, Celesta's is the one I'm best at, the one I've used most. And — given how much body-craft is also packed in, it's the easiest to fuse with the body-craft side."

"Body-craft isn't my speciality, but as a concept — yes, that's broadly the shape."

"So — over other, knottier formulae — Celesta's I've been the one to lean on. And — would like to add a touch more variety to it."

"That phrasing itself is knotty, but I get the gist."

"Also, lightning is cool."

"Without that last sentence we could have ended cleanly…!"

"Yes…"

Lilium thumped Merea on the head.

Like an older sister setting a younger brother straight.

To tell the truth — Aiz, a little, wanted to do that too.

In the formula-study sessions of the two of them that had become a regular sight lately, Lilium, deep on formula-theory, was the teacher.

Apparently, on the Heroic-Spirit-formulae decoding Merea had been wanting to push forward for some time, he was getting Lilium's hand on it.

By his account: Nobody told me getting another's help was forbidden! Hah! Sloppy on the close-out, those lot!

"Saying it straight — me helping won't move the needle as much as you'd hope…. This formula is too peculiar."

"B-but but, certainly better than me alone! — Hold on, did they anticipate this far and not say it…? No good — I can see Wind-God-Van laughing his head off. He did say I want it learned and also but actually being learned easily is, somewhat, irritating…"

— Too many poor losers in that crowd… — Merea, head-in-hands, muttering.

Watching, Aiz's mind ran on the next thread.

— Other people who can thump Merea-kun on the head — and… Elma, perhaps?

If you set aside the retort-blows from the men, there about.

— …

That gesture — visibly close — Aiz, for once, wanted to try.

— B-but — he's busy right now… isn't he?

Aiz held the fidgeting impulse down and held off.

Next time, on a lull, she would.

"At any rate — being able to wield this finer would be useful in any number of ways. Just-from-a-fingertip lightning, covert electric shock, nice."

"What's nice I have no clue and there's also no situation where you need to be covert, but for fine-detail practice that scale is, possibly, ideal."

"Eh?! Quietly zap—! Cool, surely! Like an elite spy!"

"Hah…"

To Merea's mysterious fixation, Lilium let another sigh out.

"Right then — alongside the Seven Imperial Weapons material and Demon Lord lineage trees and all that, I'll fit your formula in when I can. — For now, transcribe it onto paper or something."

"Right, right. — Hah — nostalgic, formula-transcription. Did so much of it I genuinely thought would I be better off dead — could probably do it eyes shut by now."

Watching Merea's gaze go suddenly distant, Aiz felt slightly anxious.

"Mind — going for the whole thing needs an idiotic-sized sheet of paper, so for now, in parts. Also, if you draw the whole thing, the complexity-and-volume would give me nightmares — so don't."

"I had nightmares."

"Just you having them is fine."

"Hai."

So saying, Lilium pointed at sections of the spell-circle deployed on the floor, indicating which range Merea was to copy.

Aiz, on the side, watched it with quiet enjoyment.

---

"Right — banquet at the usual time, then."

"Got it. — For reference, food?"

"Smell. Salman is, almost certainly, already in the kitchen."

"Nose still sharp."

"Bio-faculties, thanks to 〈Evolving Genes of the Dragon God (Karel Nusa)〉, are upgrading by the day."

"Another inscrutable thing."

"I'll explain when there's time. Dragon-tongue is enabled by this — for now, just that."

"Right, right."

Merea, hand on the library door, turned once more to Lilium and Aiz and said the last line.

Lilium muttered more information packed into me and even I will pop, and waved Merea off with a hand.

"Right — Aiz, see you again."

"Yes — again, at meal-time."

Last, Merea's eye went to Aiz; smile up, hand waved.

Aiz waved back, and finally Merea left the library.

"Going here and going there, I don't know if it's intentional, but if it is — he is paying quite a lot of attention, isn't he."

Lilium, after Merea was out, said that line small.

"Yes. He is, master, of all of us, after all."

"— Right."

Lilium and Aiz, in a small laugh, returned to reading until the banquet.

---

"Sal! Salt!" "Sal! Salt!"

"I know — that's sugar!"

"How could you tell!" "Couldn't fool him!"

"Same trick too many times! Idiots! — Just because you like it! Stop trying to force it in!! I-idiots! Sugar-flavoured roast chicken (rōsuto-chikin) I do not want to eat!!"

"I don't want to eat that either!"

"If you've got breath to yell, lend a hand first! Merea!"

Star-Tree Castle, first floor.

Past that gaudy poison-coloured throne hall corridor, walking on a stretch — was the kitchen.

Off the throne hall ran corridors going up to the second floor and to special-purpose rooms — storage, kitchen, dining hall, etc.; midway along the latter corridors the décor faded — gradient-style — into the sane, white-stone register.

Merea, having walked through those corridors, was stepping into the kitchen — which sat one room past the dining hall.

Inside stood 〈Fist Emperor〉 Salman in a white apron, working through a frantic round with the blue-silver-haired twins — 〈Water King〉 and 〈Ice King〉 — Riina and Miina, who were also in matching small aprons.

"This in itself is — pretty something to watch."

"Watching!" "Watching—!"

The twins, repeating Merea's line as ever.

One was closing on the roast chicken in Salman's hand with a glass jar in her own; the other had wrapped her arms around Salman's waist to lock his movement.

"Truly mother-shaped, you, Salman."

"I'm punching you later."

Salman, sand-coloured smooth hair lifting, somehow handling the squawking twins, threw a menacing line over to Merea.

Merea took it in on a grin and watched the situation play out.

"Right — I'll give you candies later! From the alley behind the castle — that thing — Tender Confectionery's 〈Purple-Sheen Stone (Purple Tender)〉!"

"T-that is…!" "That brand-candy with sales sky-rocketing lately!"

The twins' eyes shifted suddenly.

Merea saw they were throwing off a connoisseur's appraising gleam. — Eye of the seasoned shopper.

"Can't be helped." "Can't be helped."

"What — what. Why are these two so versed in candy? — Mind, my own working knowledge of Lemusan confectionery has improved quite a bit too."

"Three each." "Me and Onee-chan, three each!"

"That candy's expensive, for candy! Two!"

"Eh—" "Acceptable."

So the negotiation, evidently, had closed.

On that timing, Merea finally stepped through the kitchen entrance into the room.

— My pocket-money's down again… more debts to that money-fiend feels dangerous… — to muttering Salman, he walked up and clapped his shoulder.

"— Don't mind."

"If you'd come in first none of this would've happened…!"

"Sorry — knew, watched anyway."

Merea, brow-low, threw an over-acted smile up; without missing a beat, Salman swung his right fist.

Aim: Merea's flank. The arc of an upward gut-punch.

"— Fuhaha, that will not break my defence!"

"Damn it! Right now, your physical strength is resented!"

Merea caught the fist cleanly with a palm and was holding it in a tight push-back.

"Hah…. Fine. Back to cooking."

"Mn, do your best."

"You look free. Help."

"I'm a man who can fail at roasting nuts."

"On reflection — fine, sit there."

"Yes."

Merea, in a chair set somewhere in the kitchen, watched Salman swing an iron pan over the formula-fire.

A separate dish from the roast chicken, evidently. An unfamiliar-coloured meat was tumbling in the pan —

— That, possibly — the great-serpent's snake-meat Elma brought in, isn't it…

On that uneasy prediction, Merea felt one of the twins land in his lap and dropped his eyes.

"Merea—"

"Mm?"

"Which am I — me, or Onee-chan! Wrong, and one Purple-Sheen Stone is yours to pay!"

In waist-passing blue-silver hair — tickling at Merea's feet — she put the line out in a spoiled voice.

Merea, on a wry smile to the girl —

"Off-guard isn't an option — bets, anywhere. — But naive! You just said me-or-Onee-chan, — which makes you the younger sister! You're Miina!"

"Hau—!"

"Idiot," — Salman, swinging the pan, sighing.