Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

In his dreams, Binaeril felt a warm touch—a caring hand he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The small hand gently brushed across his face. Though his senses were sharp, he was undoubtedly asleep. It was as if his mind had shut down other energies to expel the mana poison.

Even in his semi-conscious state, Binaeril could clearly perceive his surroundings. He heard the owner of the touch talking to someone else.

“Is he still feverish?”

“Yes, the fever hasn’t gone down. I wonder why.”

“Maybe it’s because he overexerted himself in Fairhill.”

That might be it. Veritas had not only swallowed the mana stones from the hounds whole but also absorbed the mana poison left in the wound of the village chief’s son. It was likely several times the amount of mana from the Direwolf incident. Veritas was slowly digesting all the mana it had absorbed. Binaeril could almost hear its delighted screams even in his semi-conscious state.

Leaving Fairhill and the village chief’s son behind would have been something no one could blame him for. 

‘There was no need to meddle. I could have just ignored it,’ he thought, chiding himself. But it was too late for regrets now. All he could do was hope for a quick recovery.

“Trying to handle everything alone just led to this. If we had worked together more slowly, you wouldn’t have collapsed,” Sylvia grumbled.

“But thanks to him, the villagers suffered minimal damage,” Rike defended him warmly.

“That’s true…” Sylvia conceded.

There was a brief silence, interrupted by the sound of something being wrung out. A cool cloth was placed on his forehead—likely a damp towel.

“Binaeril really is like a true mage,” Sylvia mused.

“Isn’t he a mage?” Rike replied.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sylvia said, choosing her words carefully. “Just before we met him, Binaeril was still a junior. He had spent a long time in that stage.”

“I heard rumors he was a perpetual underachiever,” Sylvia replied with a hint of a smile.

“Uh, yes. But then he started passing his classes and exams with top marks, caught the attention of the instructors, and now no one our age can match him. Just look at the magic he performed this morning.”

There was a sound of someone swallowing.

“I’ve never seen such magic before,” Sylvia added.

In the quiet village, the two girls continued their hushed conversation.

“Sylvia, why do you think the headmaster sent Binaeril with us?” Rike asked.

When Dean Yulio had first brought him along, Rike thought it was to help Binaeril make more friends. After all, he was just a student, and a well-known underachiever at that. But within half a year, Binaeril had proven his worth. He hunted demons alone, demonstrated his skills in tournaments, and led them to pass the Scala exam. Without Binaeril, Fairhill might have faced a dire fate that morning.

He was now a respectable mage in his own right.

“Your Highness, do you know the dean’s plan?”

“Yes. He’s trying to improve relations with Albrecht.” 

“In order to achieve that, Your Highness and your sister must muster all your strength.” 

“We will. We owe it to our mentor.”

“This boy will be helpful in that endeavor.”

“How so?”

“…A war might break out—a quiet war.”

Whether the royalists or the nobility gained power, the generational shift in the Albrecht Empire would not happen peacefully. Yet, neither side wanted to reveal the empire’s division to outsiders. It would be a cold, silent war, without armies or gunpowder. In this era, the perfect weapon for such a war was magic.

Sylvia’s reference to a “quiet war” meant this. Binaeril Dalheim could become one of the royalists’ most powerful weapons on that battlefield.

“Your Highness, you must remember.” 

Slyvia said, looking at the mature lady with sad eyes. “When the time comes, you must be prepared to discard Binaeril, just as you would discard me. Do not sacrifice yourself again as you did with Violet.”

She knew how deeply mentioning her sister’s name wounded Sylvia. Sylvia met Rike’s gaze with an uncharacteristic sternness, and the young princess could only nod in agreement under that intense stare.

***

“Shh. Be quiet,” Oswin whispered, lowering himself and looking around at the young men gathered there. It was 1 AM, and the village was asleep. The youths gathered at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor of the inn.

Together, they were a motley crew: one held a farming sickle, another had a metal skewer, and one had stolen a kitchen knife from the inn.

“And you, what are you doing?” Oswin asked, seeing someone with a rice sack over his head.

“I’m Rick, the miller’s son,” came the reply.

“Ugh, you idiot. Never mind. Just do as you’re told.”

Oswin was the best-prepared among them. He wore a dented longsword and a padded armor, looking somewhat equipped for the task. As the makeshift leader of this impromptu band of robbers targeting young mages, Oswin was in charge.

The mages were in the best room at the far end of the second floor. Oswin carefully pushed the door, and the creaky hinge sounded like thunder in the silence. He felt sweat forming on his hand gripping the longsword.

Slowly, Oswin raised his left hand to push the door further.

Creeeeak—

The old hinges echoed loudly.

‘Shhh,’ he signaled his companions to stay quiet with a raised finger.

…He could hear faint breathing. The mages were definitely asleep.

“Let’s go in,” Oswin whispered.

Just then—

Wham!

A kick emerged from the darkness, knocking Oswin backward.

“I knew this would happen.”

As everyone slept, Sylvia remained on high alert. The greedy glint in the village chief of Rostock’s eyes and the overly friendly gesture of providing meals without being asked had raised her suspicions. She had thrown all the bread to the birds, ensuring the crumbs were spread out on the tray to make it look like they had eaten naturally. Sylvia left the room where Binaeril and Rike were resting, closing the door quietly behind her to avoid disturbing them.

“What are you guys?” Sylvia demanded.

In front of her lay a man in armor, looking startled, with a group of burly young men with wide eyes behind him.

“What a sight. Sickles, pickaxes, metal skewers… and what’s with that guy?”

“I’m Rick from the millhouse…”

“Great.”

The man wearing a rice sack over his head was clearly not there for a friendly visit.

“Is this about money?”

The men exchanged glances. Their intention was obvious.

“She’s just one girl. Get her!”

The attackers, armed with farming tools, charged at Sylvia. Meanwhile, Binaeril was still in his semi-conscious state. Perhaps it was Rike’s caring touch that allowed him to dream of his mother for the first time in a long while. The dreams always followed the same pattern—memories of his childhood, his kind mother, and always ending with the Dalheim estate engulfed in flames. At the end of these dreams, Binaeril would find himself blaming himself, crying, or feeling terrified. These were feelings too worn out to dwell on now.

Around this time, the scent of blood mingled with the musty smell of the wooden inn, rousing Binaeril from his sleep. He instinctively sat up.

“Rike? Sylvia?”

Rike was asleep by his bedside, her head resting on a cushion.

“Sylvia?”

After confirming Rike’s safety, Binaeril called out for Sylvia. She was nowhere to be seen. Faint noises came from outside the room. Binaeril fully got up and stepped out of the room.

“Damn it.”

Sylvia was struggling. If her opponents had been monsters, she wouldn’t have had such a hard time. But the fact that they were civilians made her hesitate. The ragtag group of young attackers, relying solely on their strength, clumsily swarmed her. Unlike armed and trained soldiers, these men were harder to handle because she had to control her strength, avoiding serious injury or fatal blows.

Sylvia didn’t want anyone to get seriously hurt or killed, as it would complicate things further. The narrow corridor and railing put her at a disadvantage, leaving little room to dodge or maneuver. Realizing this, Oswin urged his friends to press on.

“Keep attacking, push in! She can’t handle all of us!”

Rick, the miller’s son, had his head inside a rice sack. As Sylvia fought, his head burst out of the sack, revealing his bewildered face.

The sound of a life ending brought a brief lull to the fight. Sylvia and the assailants were momentarily stunned by the surreal situation.

“What? Who’s there?”

“It’s the patient,” Binaeril replied, stepping out of the room with a dazed expression.

“Who the hell is this kid?” one of the young men shouted, approaching the small boy with a sickle.

“Gah!”

The youth clutched his throat with both hands, choking out a strangled sound before collapsing. His eyes rolled back, making it obvious that he was dead.

There had been no warning, no incantation. Oswin felt a chill run down his spine.

‘Damn that village chief, he lied to us!’

The chief had assured them that the mages would be drugged with a sleeping potion. But here were two out of three of them, wide awake and facing them.

The grey-haired boy’s eyes were now open, but he seemed to lack focus, indicating he was genuinely dangerous. He was clearly different from the girl who had struggled to fend them off.

“Who are you?” Binaeril demanded.

“We… we are…”

Oswin’s jaw trembled uncontrollably. He felt a coldness seep into his body, as if he were standing inside an ice cellar. The fear rendered him nearly speechless.

“Speak clearly.”

-These are the village chief’s minions.

Binaeril seemed to understand without needing any spoken confirmation. But Oswin had no time to relax as the next question followed quickly.

“What are you here for?”

-Greed, pure and simple.

“Didn’t we pay the chief?”

-Would you let a goose that lays golden eggs go just like that? Naturally, he wanted to gut it and see for himself.

“You are all truly pathetic.”

Remarkably, during this exchange, Oswin and his men had not spoken a single word. Binaeril slowly extended his hand towards them, but the speed at which Oswin and his men were slammed against the wall was anything but slow.

“Guh!”

“Not only were you planning to steal gold, but you also intended to harm people? Tell me, was this your own plan, or did someone put you up to it?”