The Six Orders

 

No one can bind him.

None but he himself.

 

"Alright then, here we go—"

In her usual drawn-out, tension-free voice, Mel raised a short wand.

"Come out, Nuck."

At the sound of his name, a one-eyed horse with a red coat appeared, like flames leaping up.

The spirit-horse I named Nuckelavee was, so I'm told, a spirit made by blending earth, wind, and fire. The coat was red because of the fire. When I asked the maker why they'd done such a thing, the answer was, "Because adding fire felt like it would make it run faster."

That was true enough, but the trade-off was a fiery temperament and a tendency to run wild. It hated walking slowly or standing still, and if you gave it that kind of order, it would bolt.

"Present."

Mel pointed with her wand at a wood chip on the floor.

Nuckelavee walked over, picked up the chip in its mouth, and brought it to her.

"Follow."

When Mel said it and started walking, Nuckelavee trailed after her like a duckling—faster when she sped up, slower when she eased off.

"Stay."

Given while still walking, the order made Nuckelavee stop dead and quit following.

"Come."

The moment Mel called from a short distance away, Nuckelavee sprang toward her—

"Stop."

It froze in midair with one foreleg raised.

"Dismiss."

At the last command, Nuckelavee became a whirlwind and dissolved into the air.

"Yeah. Perfect."

"Yaaay!"

When I nodded, Mel threw both hands up and bounced in place to show her delight.

It's been five years since we began serious research into spirits. By now, I'd gotten used to little gestures like that from her.

At last, it felt like we had something with a proper shape.

The biggest sticking point in creating a licensing system for spirit-handling had been, "What standard do we use?" What came to mind was automobiles from my previous life. In the era when self-driving had become the norm it had fallen out of use, but when I was a child, drivers had to take courses and be certified as having the knowledge and skill to operate a car.

But drawing up detailed rules and signage for handling spirit-horses is, frankly, premature. Even if we created such things out of nowhere, the administrators wouldn't be able to keep track of it all — and that's not to mention how spirits aren't just simple horses. They're used in all sorts of fields.

So, in pursuit of a standard as simple as possible, I came up with those six orders.

Present, Follow, Stay, Come, Stop, and Dismiss. Six commands that should be universally applicable to any spirit. If you can train a spirit to obey these, you earn a license. We made the commands English for the same reason as with dog training — to keep them from being confused with everyday conversation.

"I'm impressed you managed to tame Nuck to that extent."

Nuckelavee's temperament is extremely wild. Even if I call it forth, there's no way I could control it like that.

Strictly speaking, if I call its name every time I give an order, I can make it obey.

But that's only forcing it with magic. Commanding it that way just builds up Nuckelavee's frustration and makes it more prone to running amok.

Spirits have emotions, too.

Whether beings that can be sliced to bits, eaten and erased, and summoned again and again have life is unclear, and whether they count as living creatures is very much debatable.

Even so, that they possess hearts seemed beyond doubt.

"Ehehe. Thank youuu."

At my praise, Mel ducked her head with a shy little motion, pressing her arms in toward her chest. Perhaps it's that honest disposition — she seemed, by all appearances, to be a child loved by spirits.

When it comes to magic that summons spirits, affinity with the spirit is paramount.

It wouldn't be unusual for her to just get along incredibly well with fire spirits but be entirely ignored by water spirits, but I'd never seen a spirit that disliked Mel. No matter what spirit she calls, she grows more familiar than most and skillfully secures its cooperation.

"… No way."

I caught myself noticing a similarity between Mel and the woman who first created spirits in this world, then shook off the ridiculous thought. Surely that's not the criterion… probably.

"Come here, Nuck."

Whether she noticed my gaze or not, Mel summoned Nuckelavee again and hugged its muzzle tight to her chest.

"We did it, Nuck. He said it was perfect."

Nuck snorted happily in response to her delighted voice.

"As a reward, I'll give you something nice."

Saying so, Mel plunged a hand into her cleavage and pulled out a small medal.

"… Where were you even keeping that?"

"I can hold all sorts of stuff in there. Super handy."

Apparently she was unaware of that great invention known as the pocket. Mel looped the medal's cord around Nuckelavee's neck.

"Mm-hmm, it looks great on you."

She nodded, pleased.

"Okay then, let's play again sometime. Dismiss."

She casually issued the dismissal.

"Wha—!?"

I widened my eyes at what happened before me.

"Mentor, what's wrong?"

Mel tilted her head, not understanding what had surprised me.

"The medal vanished…"

The medal Mel had hung on Nuckelavee. I don't know what it's made of—iron, probably. I think I've seen similar in the general store. The cord too was likely something Mel threaded herself. In other words, both were utterly ordinary, commonplace objects—not spirits.

So when Nuckelavee disappeared, the medal should have simply fallen to the floor—or so I'd unconsciously assumed. But what actually happened—

— The medal vanished together with Nuckelavee.

"Nuck!"

I hurriedly re-summoned the spirit-horse. The one-eyed horse that appeared, however, did not have a medal around its neck.

"It's not there… Where did the medal go?"

"Well, of course."

Mel answered me in a leisurely tone as I floundered.

"The Nuck I gave the medal to is my Nuck. See?"

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she summoned Nuckelavee—the one with the medal around its neck.

Right beside the Nuckelavee I had called.

"… What in the world…"

One Nuck with a medal, one without. Faced with two spirit-horses, I could only clutch my head.

It seemed our research into spirits was still far from over.

"'Scuse me, coming through—stay quiet, okay?"

As I fretted, a sofa suddenly drifted through the air, cutting across my line of sight. It landed in a corner of the room, clattered and unfolded, and within a few seconds had transformed into a large desk. Naturally, Innis was swallowed into the structure and couldn't be seen from outside.

"… How does that even work?"

I could tell she'd combined several magitech devices and disguised a transforming sofa as a desk, but I couldn't begin to guess the exact mechanisms involved.

… It seemed that research had made great strides on that front as well.

If Mel was a child loved by spirits, then Innis was an undisputed genius.

Her ideas and technique in enchantment brooked no rivals.

If only the whole of that passion weren't spent on shirking work and taking it easy.

"Mentor! Has Innis come this way!?"

"Uh… no, haven't seen her."

Whether to cover for her or tell the truth — I hesitated a moment before answering with that.

"Y-yeah. Innis-chan? She's totally not here, nope."

Even as she glanced furtively at the desk, Mel answered in a voice that cracked. She was a terrible liar.

"I see… She got away from me again today."

With a deep sigh, Ara sank down on the spot.

You're believing that…?

"Why is it that someone as gifted as Innis won't buckle down and train seriously…?"

Ara's muttered voice carried a complex shade—part sadness, part frustration.

He's no underachiever. If anything, he's one of the stronger students. He can use magic better than most, and the spear he wields with that blessed physique is formidable.

Even so, he still hadn't beaten a spirit.

Without Mel's overwhelming mana, Innis's flexible ingenuity, or Yuuka's absolute martial prowess, it's hard to stand against spirits. Precisely because he's talented, the gap must sting all the more.

Even so, while you could make peace with Yuuka, who has honed the sword for over two hundred years, or with the straightforward, earnest Mel, it felt only natural to resent Innis, so slovenly she'd been saddled with the "Witch of Sloth" moniker.

"Nuh-uh."

Mel, however, objected.

"Innis-chan is always serious."

"… She is?"

To Ara's dubious look, Mel nodded with utter confidence.

"Always serious, giving it her all — at slacking off."

Ara's face flashed with realization, then tilted, then fell into deep thought…

"— No, that just makes it worse, doesn't it?"

That was the conclusion he reached.

"Huh?"

Only then did Mel seem to realize it too, tilting her head.

"Well, everyone walks at their own pace. Ara, your effort is never wasted. Don't worry about Innis."

"Ah, no…"

Ara shook his head.

"I'm aware. I couldn't do what Mel does even if I tried on two legs. But Innis's way of fighting is extremely instructive. I was looking for her to ask for a sparring match."

At that, I realized I'd underestimated him.

"And Innis isn't at her limit. She can get much, much stronger. Then she can help you, Mentor — and protect everyone in the village."

His outlook was far broader than I'd thought.

"Innis is right there."

Moved, I sold Innis out.

"Why would you tell him!?"

The desk immediately snapped back into a sofa and bolted, but Ara was faster.

"Knew you were here. Come on, you're helping."

"Mel will help too!"

"Nooo! Mentor, stop them! These two will train for five hours straight without batting an eye!"

Quadrupeds have greater stamina than humans or elves to begin with. Ara's endurance in particular is practically bottomless — he could even beat Yuuka at a long-distance run. Compared to that, Innis, who lives a perpetually slothful lifestyle, isn't even in the same conversation.

I knew that, which is why I'd covered for her hiding spot — but what Ara said changed my mind. Innis could stand to suffer a little.

"Mentor!"

The scale I kept tucked in my pocket buzzed just as Innis, sofa and all, was being dragged out of the room. Ringing through it was Lufelle's frantic voice.

"Help… Tia's going to die!"