You Need a Magic Tutor

Miss Cleric appeared before Aaron, startled and furious. A thick bath towel wrapped around her body, and fire seemed ready to burst from her clear sapphire eyes. Almost on instinct, she snatched a cup from the table and hurled it straight at his face.

The cup whistled sharply through the air. Judging by the force alone, Miss Cleric was definitely a full tier stronger than Aaron!

Aaron calmly caught it, spilling its water all over himself. Viscount Aaron let it soak his handsome face and chest, turned to close the door, then walked toward Eleanor as though nothing had happened.

What was he going to do? Eleanor retreated with every step he took, unable to hide her panic.

I really will hit you with my hammer!

Even if you're blessed by Selûne, I'll judge you in the name of the Lady of Silver!

Miss Cleric's hand was already reaching for her warhammer.

To her surprise, Aaron walked right past her.

The viscount calmly passed by Miss Cleric, took a seat on the sofa, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the water from his face. "You've got some nerve saying that, Miss Eleanor. Didn't I tell you I'd be back after a look around downstairs?"

"We're not married, we're not a couple, and we're not even friends with benefits. You didn't get dressed in the bathroom, yet you're blaming me? How does that make sense?" Aaron said with righteous indignation, keeping his eyes firmly ahead. "I'll have you know, even I dislike women who undress without regard for the occasion!"

Miss Cleric had just breathed a sigh of relief, but as Aaron spoke, her exquisite face gradually turned a livid red.

This man was turning it around on me!!!

He made it sound as if he were the one who'd lost out!

And the more I think about it, the more it seems he's right!

Living alone for so long had left Eleanor in the habit of strolling around her room after a bath. The hot bath had felt so good that she had forgotten Aaron would return. And how had his timing been so precise? Two minutes earlier and she would still have been in the wooden tub; two minutes later and she would at least have had her nightdress on.

Miss Cleric's face shifted between pale and flushed. Several times she tried to scold him, but she could not think what to say. She could only glare at Aaron as though her eyes might spit fire.

Aaron showed no reaction. He picked up two buckets of hot water. "Go and get dressed. I imagine you need a moment to calm down, and I could use a bath myself. We can talk when I'm done."

"Y-you're not allowed to do anything strange!" Eleanor's heart sank.

I haven't emptied my bathwater!

She could not decide whether warning him would make things better or worse.

Aaron saw her conflicted expression. After a moment's thought, he realized what Miss Cleric was thinking, and his facial muscles twitched.

I'm not Durant!

Ignoring Eleanor, he took a clean set of underclothes into the bathroom, poured both buckets into the bathwater that had begun to cool, and enjoyed a thoroughly pleasant soak.

When he emerged, washed and dressed, Miss Cleric seemed to have regained her composure.

Eleanor reclined against the soft sofa in a sheer white chiffon dress with a rippling spring-rain-and-pomelo pattern. The long dress hugged her slender, well-proportioned figure. Beneath its knee-length hem, her smooth legs were crossed. Their graceful proportions showed them to full advantage, and even without stockings, they were striking. In the dim candlelight, her fair skin made it hard for Aaron to look away. Her small feet rested in pink slippers, her toes shifting slightly inside them and revealing her smooth heels.

Even Aaron, who possessed the soul of Slaanesh, could not help having a thought.

Legs and feet that lovely deserve white stockings.

As someone who had crossed into this world, Aaron Salian harbored a secret buried so deep that almost no one knew it.

He was obsessed with stockings.

But he also knew that stockings in fiction and stockings in real life were two different things.

Unlike versatile black stockings, he had seen very few adult women look good in white ones in real life. It had always been a source of deep regret.

White stockings demanded just the right legs, feet, and skin. If even one fell short, the result looked wrong.

Eleanor is so perfect. She'd look wonderful in white stockings! Aaron quietly resolved to find an opportunity to get her into a pair so he could see for himself.

But where am I supposed to find stockings? That posed another problem.

Stockings existed in the Realms, but they were exceedingly scarce.

The most familiar kind were made from fine silk produced by Lolth's great spiders in the Underdark. They were popular throughout the Realms, and most were imported from Menzoberranzan.

Well, Lolth may be wicked and a villain in every web novel I've read, but she isn't entirely without her merits.

The finest stockings were magically made from the down of unicorns blessed by Lurue, the unicorn goddess. No stockings anywhere in the Realms were finer, softer, smoother, more elastic, or more pleasant to the touch. They were produced only in Silverymoon and were all but impossible to buy.

Then there were ordinary stockings made on hand-operated knitting machines. They fell far short of the other two kinds in feel and elasticity, yet even these were luxuries.

The good news was that the Lady of Silver, Selûne, was on excellent terms with Lurue.

That, too, had factored into Aaron's careful thinking. As one of the two primordial gods, Selûne had a vast network of relationships among the gods. Nearly every good-aligned god was her friend, and many neutral gods were close to her as well.

The bad news was... well, anyone who knew, knew.

Aaron knew he could never sleep with his window open again.

"Actually, I don't like being called 'the last Sallyan.'" Aaron undid a button at his chest and sat down opposite Miss Cleric, a rueful smile touching his lips. "It makes it sound as though I'm destined to die childless and end the family line. Though... I came very close to being the last Sallyan."

Eleanor saw his bitter smile, and a shadow crossed her pure, flowerlike face. Year after year, she had watched Manuel and Elizabeth bring Aaron to the open-air altar for the sacred ceremony. Then, last year, it had been his aunt Mellie and uncle Lothair who brought him.

Asha, the barbarian woman, had once joked to Eleanor that the Sallyan family's annual donations would surely shrink now.

Eleanor had argued with Asha over it.

"Then what would you like people to call you?" Miss Cleric asked, her tone much gentler. Their little clash was set aside for the moment.

"If I could choose, I'd rather be called 'Hassavi the Shining.'" Aaron gave her a mysterious smile, then shook his head before Miss Cleric could respond. "Forget it. Hassavi doesn't even know what he can do. But I know what I want to do, what I can do, and what I must do."

"Miss Eleanor, you're sitting here instead of locking your bedroom door and leaving me to sleep on the sofa. I take it you have something to say." Aaron remained serious, almost unrecognizable beside the man he had been a moment ago.

This was how the Child of Chaos, newly awakened to Slaanesh's power, assessed the situation.

Aaron believed their awkward encounter had begun to sour a relationship that their earlier conversation had steadied. That did not fit his plans.

Given how earnest, strong, and devout Miss Cleric was, laughing it off or making the suggestive remarks a typical noble might make would be mistakes. Either would only make Eleanor dislike him more.

As a Half-elf, an orphan, a follower of Selûne, and a priestess, Eleanor was bound to harbor some slight instinctive hostility toward human nobles. If the Sallyan family had not been devoted to Selûne, and if he had not possessed Extraordinary Charisma through Selûne's favor—or so Miss Cleric believed—she might never have given him a second glance.

The right approach was to speak plainly. He needed to make clear where they stood, assure Miss Cleric that it had been an accident and that he had no such intentions, then show just enough vulnerability to stir her sympathy. Finally, his serious expression would show that he meant to discuss something important.

Since awakening Slaanesh's power, Aaron had found that life felt a little like a dating game. Every choice brought different consequences; every decision opened up endless possibilities and fresh excitement.

Sure enough, seeing that Aaron's seriousness was genuine, Miss Cleric concluded that he really had walked in on her by chance.

"Aaron, there's something wrong with your magic!"

Aaron's heart jolted. His grip tightened on the sofa. "What's wrong with it?"

"You're using your magic incorrectly." Eleanor did not notice his hand. Miss Cleric's clear sapphire eyes fixed on him. After a brief hesitation, she went on. "When we fought the Bugbear today, you used it the wrong way. I don't know exactly how Sorcerers cast spells, but I know that wasn't right."

"You cast two spells to deal with that Bugbear. For a first-tier apprentice spellcaster, that's astonishing. I don't know how many spells you can cast before you need to rest, but wasting magic like that is absolutely a mistake."

Eleanor paused. Seeing no trace of resentment on Aaron's face, she continued.

Sorcerers were born with the ability to cast spells, and they tended to be proud and aloof. Mages might listen to instruction, and Druids might consider other people's feelings, but Sorcerers often loathed being told what to do.

"True power is your birthright!"

That was the Sorcerers' favorite saying.

"At the time, I was only a few steps away and could have reached you at any moment. Those mercenaries had appeared nearby, too. In those circumstances, you should have conserved your limited magic and dodged. Or... if you needed to cast a spell, you should have chosen something else. Both spells I saw you cast dealt nothing but damage. All they did was make the Bugbear bleed a little more."

"For a spellcaster, spells that do nothing but damage aren't the first choice. Protection and control should take priority," Miss Cleric said hesitantly. "But your bloodline determines what you can do, and I don't know the nature of your power. I'm only telling you the general principle."

Aaron understood at once. As a noble of Cormyr, how could he not have seen the War Wizards for which the kingdom was famous cast spells?

In battle, a spellcaster's greatest contribution was not damage. It was strengthening allies, weakening enemies, and exerting powerful control. Others could handle the damage, but often only a spellcaster could provide that kind of control and protection.

Aaron had habitually cast himself as the main damage dealer. Having only just gained control of magic, he had also wanted to show it off a little.

Anyone who acquired a new ability would instinctively want to test it.

Give a man a weapon, and the urge to use it followed.

"How do you think I should correct it?" Aaron asked Eleanor earnestly.

"I don't know. I'm a Cleric. I cast Divine Magic in the name of the Lady of Silver. You're a Sorcerer. We're different. All I can say is that if I hadn't seen you in danger, I wouldn't even have used Twilight Fire." Eleanor slowly rose from the sofa. Her magnificent golden hair fell naturally down her back, the ends releasing a faint fragrance as they swayed.

Aaron noticed a silver pendant hanging at Eleanor's chest.

A small bottle was fastened to it. Inside the clear glass lay a bright, azure strand of hair.

"Where are you looking?" Eleanor noticed his gaze had fallen to her chest and instinctively tugged at the neckline that already covered her completely.

Aaron's gaze was unnerving. Whenever she was exposed to the attention of a man with Extraordinary Charisma, Eleanor feared she might lose herself before she knew it.

"The thing in that little bottle... is it hair?" Aaron kept looking at it. "I feel something calling to me from it. It doesn't seem to be yours."

Miss Cleric's eyes gradually brightened. She remembered Lady Silverstar once telling her that people with Extraordinary Charisma were always drawn to one another.

"It isn't mine... You know, I once met an angel! A real angel." Memory glimmered in her clear, sapphire-blue eyes, and a moving smile touched Miss Cleric's face. She slipped into a memory both painful and sweet. "But now, this is all that remains."

Aaron felt as though he were listening to a riddle, and the viscount had no interest in guessing. "Miss Eleanor, I don't think you're old enough to live on memories just yet."

"I only meant that the angel is gone now." Aaron's words broke Eleanor's reverie. She glared at him in irritation, but the confusion on his face told her he could not share what she felt. She sighed softly. "At your current level of strength, knowing more wouldn't do you any good."

"I only wanted to offer some advice. Now that you can cast spells, you'd be wise to find a suitable teacher. Since you're a Sorcerer... finding one may be difficult, but it would still be far better than fumbling around on your own." Eleanor could no longer bear Aaron's gaze. She held her nightdress closed at the neckline with one hand and pressed down its hem with the other. "I'm going to rest."

"Good night, and thank you, Miss Eleanor. Thank you for taking the risk to tell me this." Aaron stood and bowed slightly to Miss Cleric.

Miss Cleric was his protector, his traveling companion, and the person who had saved his life.

"It's nothing. Didn't you say we were both servants of the Lady of Silver?" Eleanor smiled faintly, as refreshing as a clear spring in a secluded mountain garden.

Uh, you meant that? I was only saying it! Now it was Aaron's turn to feel awkward.

"Then good night."

"Good night."

An update! Heh heh heh~