You Need a Magic Tutor

The panicked, furious young cleric appeared before Aaron, her body wrapped in a thick bath towel. Her expression was a mix of shock and anger, and her sapphire-clear eyes seemed ready to spit fire. Almost without thinking, she snatched up the cup on the table and hurled it straight at his face.

The cup whistled sharply through the air, carrying all her anger with it. Judging by the force alone, the young cleric's strength was definitely a notch above Aaron's!

Aaron calmly caught the cup. Water spilled all over him, soaking his extraordinarily handsome face and chest. The viscount let it drip, turned to close the door, and walked toward Eleanor as though nothing had happened.

What is he going to do? Eleanor retreated with every step Aaron took toward her, panic plain on her face.

I really will hit you with my hammer!

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

The young cleric's hand had already found her warhammer.

But to her surprise, Aaron walked right past her.

The viscount calmly passed the young cleric and sat on the sofa. He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the water from his face. "I can't believe you'd say that, Miss Eleanor. Didn't I tell you I'd be back after a look around downstairs?"

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

The young cleric had just breathed a sigh of relief, but as Aaron spoke, her exquisite face gradually turned a deep, blotchy red.

This man actually turned it around on me!!!

He's talking as if he's the one who lost out!

And the more I think about it, the more it seems he isn't wrong!

Eleanor had lived alone so long that she had developed a habit of wandering around her room after a bath. The hot bath had felt so good that she had forgotten Aaron would be coming back. And how could his timing have been so exact? If he had returned two minutes earlier, she would still have been in the big wooden tub. Two minutes later, and she would at least have put on her nightdress.

The young cleric's face went pale, then flushed. Several times she tried to scold him, but she had no idea what to say. She could only glare at Aaron as though her eyes were on fire.

Aaron showed no reaction. He picked up the two buckets of hot water. "Go get dressed. I think you need a little time to calm down, and I could use a bath. We'll talk when I come out."

"Y-you'd better not do anything strange!" Eleanor thought with a jolt, Oh no.

I haven't emptied my bathwater!

She didn't know whether to warn him or keep quiet.

Aaron saw the conflict on Eleanor's face. It took him only a moment to guess what the young cleric was thinking, and the muscles in his face twitched.

I'm not Durant!

He ignored Eleanor, took a change of underclothes into the bathroom, and poured the two buckets of hot water into the bathwater, which had already begun to cool. Then he enjoyed a long soak.

By the time he finished bathing, changed, and came out, the young cleric seemed to have recovered her composure.

Eleanor was reclining on the soft sofa in a sheer white chiffon dress with rippling folds. The long dress hugged her slender, well-proportioned figure and covered her knees, beneath which her smooth legs were crossed. Her legs and feet were so beautifully proportioned that it was hard to look away. Even without stockings, her legs were stunning. In the dim candlelight, her fair skin caught Aaron's gaze. Her small feet rested in pink slippers, her five neatly aligned toes moving slightly inside them, while her smooth, rounded heels showed at the back.

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

Legs and feet that beautiful deserve white stockings.

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

He was obsessed with stockings.

But he knew perfectly well that stockings in illustrations were not the same as stockings in real life.

Unlike black stockings, which went with almost anything, he had rarely seen an adult woman who looked good in white stockings. It had always been a source of regret to him.

White stockings demanded too much of the shape of one's legs and feet, as well as one's skin. If any one of those fell short, the result just didn't look good.

The young cleric is so perfect. She'd look wonderful in white stockings! Aaron quietly resolved to find some way to get Eleanor to wear a pair so he could see for himself.

Wait, where am I supposed to get stockings? Aaron found himself facing another problem.

Stockings did exist in the Realms, but they were exceedingly scarce.

The classic kind were made from fine silk spun by the giant spiders of Lolth, goddess and Spider Queen of the Underdark. They were popular throughout the Realms, and most stockings were imported from Menzoberranzan in the Underdark.

Well, Lolth may be awful and a villain in every webnovel I've read, but I guess she isn't entirely without merit.

The finest stockings were made with magic from the down of unicorns blessed by Lurue, the unicorn goddess. They were the best in all the Realms: the finest weave, the softest and smoothest feel, and wonderfully elastic. Only Silverymoon produced them, and demand far outstripped supply.

At the lower end were ordinary stockings made on hand-operated knitting machines. Their feel and elasticity were far inferior to the other two kinds, yet they were still luxuries.

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

That relationship had been part of Aaron's careful consideration. As one of the two primordial gods, Selûne had an extensive network among the gods. Nearly every good-aligned god was her friend, and she also had close ties with many neutral deities.

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

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

"Actually, I don't like being called 'the last Salian.'" Aaron undid a button at his chest and sat down opposite the young cleric, a wry smile touching his lips. "It makes it sound as though I'm about to die without children and end the family line. Though... I very nearly was the last Salian."

Eleanor looked at his bitter smile, and a trace of sadness appeared on her face. Year after year, she had watched Manuel and Elizabeth bring Aaron to the open-air altar for the holy 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 Salian family's annual donations would take quite a hit now.

Eleanor had argued with Asha over it.

"What would you rather people call you?" the young cleric asked, her tone much gentler. Their little clash was set aside for the moment.

"If I had my way, I'd rather be called 'Hassavi the Shining.'" Aaron gave her an enigmatic smile, then shook his head before she could respond. "Forget it. Hassavi himself doesn't know what he can do. But I know what I want to do. I know what I can do. And I know what I must do."

"Miss Eleanor, you're sitting here instead of locking your bedroom door and leaving me to sleep on the sofa. You must have something you want to say." Aaron remained serious, seeming like a different man from before.

It was the judgment of a child of Chaos who had awakened the power of Slaanesh and considered the situation before him.

Aaron believed their embarrassing encounter had threatened the rapport he and the young cleric had built through their earlier conversation. That did not fit his plans.

Given the young cleric's earnest, resilient, and devout nature, laughing the matter off or making lewd jokes like an ordinary noble would be a mistake. Either would only make Eleanor dislike him more.

As a Half-elf, an orphan, a follower of Selûne, and a cleric, Eleanor was naturally a little wary of human nobles. If the Salian family had not been devout followers of Selûne, and if Aaron had not possessed, in the young cleric's eyes, extraordinary charm granted by Selûne, she might never have given him the time of day.

The right response was to speak openly and make their relationship clear. He needed the young cleric to understand that he had neither done it deliberately nor intended anything by it. Then he could show a little vulnerability to stir her sympathy, and finally let his serious expression show that he wanted to discuss something important.

Since awakening the power of Slaanesh, Aaron had found that life felt a little like a dating game. Every choice brought different consequences, and every decision opened the way to endless changes and new thrills.

Sure enough, seeing that Aaron's seriousness did not appear to be an act, the young cleric became convinced he really had walked in on her by accident.

"Aaron, there's a problem with your magic!"

"!" Aaron's heart lurched, and his hand tightened on the sofa. "What problem?"

"The way you use it." Eleanor did not notice his hand. Her clear sapphire eyes stayed fixed on him. After a brief hesitation, she said, "When we fought the Bugbear today, you used your magic wrong. I don't know how Sorcerers cast spells, but the way you used yours definitely wasn't right."

"To deal with that Bugbear, you cast two spells in succession. That's remarkable for a first-tier apprentice caster. 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. Only when she saw no trace of resentment on Aaron's face did she continue.

Sorcerers were born knowing how to cast spells, and they were proud and aloof by nature. Mages might listen to advice, and Druids might consider other people's feelings, but Sorcerers often loathed being told what to do.

"True power is a birthright!"

—A favorite saying of Sorcerers.

"At the time, I was only a few steps away and could have reached you at any moment. Those mercenaries had appeared nearby, too. You should have conserved your limited magic and dodged. Or... if you needed a spell to handle the situation, you should have cast something else. Both spells I saw you use dealt direct damage. All they did was make the Bugbear bleed a little more."

"For a caster, spells that only deal damage shouldn't be the first choice. Protection and control spells should take priority." The young cleric hesitated. "But that depends on your bloodline, too. I don't know what kind of power you have, so I'm only telling you what generally applies."

Aaron immediately understood what Eleanor meant. As a noble of Cormyr, how could he never have seen the kingdom's famed war mages cast spells?

In battle, a caster's greatest contribution was not damage but strengthening allies, weakening enemies, and providing powerful control. Others could deal damage; often, only casters could provide strong control and protection.

Aaron had instinctively treated 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 gained a new possession or ability would naturally want to test what it could do.

Give someone a weapon, and the urge to use it would follow.

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

"I don't know. I'm a Cleric. I cast divine spells in the Lady of Silver's name. 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 cast Twilight Fire." Eleanor rose slowly from the sofa, her luxurious golden hair falling naturally down her back. As it swayed, it carried a faint fragrance.

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

A tiny transparent bottle was fastened to the end of it. Inside was a single luminous azure strand of hair.

"Where are you looking?" Eleanor noticed Aaron's gaze drift to her chest and instinctively tugged her already modest neckline tighter.

Aaron's gaze was far too dangerous. Exposed to someone with such extraordinary charm, Eleanor was always afraid she might lose herself before she knew it.

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

The young cleric's eyes gradually brightened. She remembered what Lady Silverstar had once told her: people with extraordinary charm were always drawn to one another.

"It isn't mine... You know, I once met an angel! A real angel." Memory shone in her clear, sapphire-blue eyes, and a lovely smile spread across her face. The young cleric had fallen into a memory both painful and sweet. "But now, this is all that's left."

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

"I only meant that the angel is gone now." Aaron's words broke Eleanor's reverie. She gave him an annoyed glare, but his bewildered expression made it clear he could not share what she was feeling. She could only sigh. "At your current level of strength, knowing more wouldn't do you any good."

"I'm just offering a suggestion. Now that you can cast spells, you should find a suitable tutor. 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. The young cleric held her neckline with one hand and pressed down the hem of her dress with the other. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Miss Eleanor. Thank you for telling me all this despite the risk." Aaron stood and bowed slightly to the young cleric.

She 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 gave him a faint smile, as refreshing as a clear spring on a secluded mountain estate and sweet enough to touch the heart.

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

"Well then, good night."

"Good night."

An update! Hehehehehe~