Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

As the soldiers of the Duke’s forces flooded into the spaces left vacant by those who had departed Elfenbine, they couldn’t help but marvel at their surroundings.

“So this is Elfenbine…,” one of them muttered in awe.

“How can there be such a space inside a tower?” another asked, bewildered.

“Is this all magic?”

“Stop gawking like country bumpkins!” Sir Baron, who had chided them, couldn’t keep his own head from swiveling around to take in the sights.

“Look at this! Lights that float in the air!” someone exclaimed.

“Look over there! The leaves are purple!” another pointed out.

“Forget the leaves! Look at this!” someone else shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to where he was pointing.

“A fountain!”

“…There’s a fountain in Vinzburg too, you know,” Sir Asdal said, rubbing his forehead in exasperation at his comrades.

“No, Sir Asdal, that’s not it! The fountain is flowing backwards!”

“Ooooh!!” Sir Asdal, who had been trying to keep his fellow knights in line, couldn’t help but join in their amazement at the sight of the fountain’s water defying gravity.

The burly knights and soldiers clustered around the small fountain, collectively expressing their astonishment.

“They look like a bunch of clueless simpletons…” the Duke muttered under his breath, clearly torn between scolding his men and letting them enjoy themselves.

“Hahaha! It’s alright! Let them look around as much as they like!” Dean Yulio, who was accompanying the Duke, reassured him.

“I was just like that on my first day here. For those unfamiliar with magic, everything is a wonder, Father,” Vivian added, smiling at the sight.

“Still, it’s embarrassing… behaving like that,” the Duke grumbled, though a hint of fondness crept into his voice.

When the Duke revealed that he had brought his army to support Elfenbine, the one who welcomed him most warmly was none other than Dean Yulio.

“But why would someone of your stature, a duke of the Empire, go to such lengths…?” Yulio asked, genuinely curious.

“I owe a debt to Elfenbine,” the Duke replied.

Yulio searched his memory but couldn’t recall any significant connection between Elfenbine and the Duke. The restoration of diplomatic relations between the Empire and the Magic Tower was a recent event, so there hadn’t been much time for the Empire’s nobility to form close ties with Elfenbine.

The only explanation that came to mind was…

“Is it because your daughter is here at the tower?” Yulio ventured.

“No. I owe a debt to one mage who saved my daughter’s life and ensured the safety of my duchy.”

As far as Yulio knew, there was only one mage from Elfenbine who had recently been dispatched to the Empire.

“Could it be… Binaeril?”

The Duke nodded in confirmation. “I couldn’t just stand by when I heard that Binaeril was in trouble. I owe him too much.”

A broad smile spread across Yulio’s face. “Binaeril, you wonderful lad!”

The Dean felt a surge of affection for Binaeril, so much so that he wished he could give the young man a kiss on the cheek.

With the arrival of Duke Torben Dux, a steady stream of letters began to pour into Elfenbine. These letters, sent by various human and non-human factions from the Empire and beyond, almost all began with some variation of, “We express great concern over the impending war,” and ended with a mention of Binaeril’s name.

Dean Yulio found himself overwhelmed by the correspondence. Many of the professors who had left were those who had handled administrative duties, leaving Yulio to shoulder the bulk of the work alone. With each passing day, the lines on his face deepened, but a smile never left his lips.

To his pleasant surprise, many were pledging their support for Elfenbine in the war against the Order. Contrary to his fears of being isolated in this conflict, Elfenbine seemed to be garnering significant backing.

“So, we don’t need to worry about the war, do we?” someone asked Yulio, hopeful.

“We can’t be too sure just yet,” Yulio cautioned. “Even those who support us now might change sides depending on how the war progresses.”

Letters of support were just that—letters. No one, aside from the Duke, had actually brought troops to Elfenbine’s aid. In truth, it was unusual for Duke Dux to bring an army to prepare for a war that hadn’t even started yet.

“If this drags on, the Duke might simply return home,” Dean Yulio remarked, his concern evident. Although the Master of the Tower had insisted on issuing a war notice first, Yulio believed that if the Order was prudent, they would delay their actions as long as possible.

Binaeril shook his head in response. “The Order will initiate the war soon. Without a doubt.”

“How can you be so certain?” Yulio asked, puzzled.

‘Because the Fragment will force them to,’ Binaeril thought to himself. He could feel it—the intuition granted by Veritas was growing stronger with each passing day. The desires of Starfall, Yunnaeril’s ambitions, and the Order’s inevitable response were all converging on this moment.

And the Order did not disappoint Binaeril’s expectations.

“Master!” Professor Avia Flynn burst into Yulio’s office, panting heavily.

“What’s the matter, Flynn?” Yulio asked, his tone laced with urgency.

“The Order… they’ve declared a Holy War,” Flynn gasped out.

The Order had officially declared a Holy War. The Holy Kingdom of Vitory had held an elaborate funeral for the six fallen Paladins, using the occasion to honor their sacrifice and denounce Binaeril Dalheim as an enemy of the Order. This stirred up widespread outrage among the faithful.

“Let it be known that the unbeliever Binaeril Dalheim, along with the Magic Tower of Elfenbine that stands behind him, are now eternal enemies of the Order,” Archbishop Vigilio declared at the funeral, where the crowds had gathered.

“The Order will no longer stand idly by in the face of this heretic’s atrocities. We declare a Holy War to restore the honor of our slain Paladins,” he announced, framing the situation as one where innocent Paladins had been murdered by a vile unbeliever.

This was the first Holy War declared since the wars against heretics, underscoring the gravity of the situation. The Order also requested substantial military support from the Pigruben Federation, its vassal state, which further illustrated the sheer power the Order held. The Order’s influence extended far beyond the borders of the Holy Kingdom of Vitory.

The Pigruben Federation was a coalition of smaller states, including the commercial powerhouse Pigny Principality and the Kingdom of Ruben, homeland of the Dalheim brothers, among others. The Federation functioned as little more than a colony under the Order’s control. When the Order demanded troops, the member states were expected to comply, even if it meant depleting their forces.

However, this time, something was different.

“Aliba refused to provide military support?” Archbishop Vigilio asked, incredulous.

“Yes, and not only Aliba,” the aide continued, “Walca and Tel Mer, often considered Aliba’s sister states, also refused to send troops for the Holy War.”

Aliba, Walca, and Tel Mer were all small, relatively powerless states within the Federation. However, Dukat, the ruler of Aliba and king of the Toins, had managed to convince these neighboring states to refuse participation in the war.

“Those dwarfish scum…! Are they not afraid of God’s wrath?” Archbishop Vigilio roared in anger, his fury palpable. His aides shrank back, fearful of his rage.

“Please, Your Grace, calm yourself. Despite this, the Kingdom of Ruben and the Pigny Principality, the most powerful members of the Federation, have committed to sending large forces!”

“Exactly! Even if you combine the expected forces from Aliba, Walca, and Tel Mer, they’re a mere drop in the ocean compared to what we’ve gathered,” one of the aides reassured, eager to calm the Archbishop’s fury.

“The Holy War will undoubtedly end in victory,” another added, attempting to ease the tension further.

The aides scrambled to soothe Archbishop Vigilio’s anger, all the while the Archbishop’s gaze shifted to the commander of the Paladins, Yunnaeril, who stood silently by.

“Commander Yunnaeril, have you nothing to say?” the Archbishop prodded.

Yunnaeril directed his question to one of the aides. “What response have we received from the Albrecht Empire?”

“Essen has yet to make any official statement. The crafty Imperial dogs are likely waiting to see how the conflict unfolds before siding with the stronger party,” the aide replied.

“That’s sufficient. As long as they don’t support Elfenbine, that’s all we need,” Yunnaeril said, his voice steady.

“What do you mean by that, Commander?” the Archbishop demanded, confused by Yunnaeril’s apparent indifference.

“Your Eminence,” Yunnaeril began, “I’ve said from the start that we don’t need the Federation’s forces.”

Yunnaeril had insisted on attacking the Magic Tower with minimal forces before Elfenbine could fully prepare. However, the Archbishop had chosen a different path—holding grand funerals for the fallen Paladins, publicly declaring a Holy War, and giving the Order time to gather its forces.

Yunnaeril’s instincts told him that the war could not be prolonged. It was the intuition of a knight who had faced many battles.

—That treacherous Book of Truth may be planning something. It’s best to strike first and attack, Starfall whispered in agreement.

“The Archbishop may not trust the remaining six Paladins and the Church’s soldiers, but we already have more than enough to crush Elfenbine. Even if a cup of water is taken from a full basin, it makes no difference,” Yunnaeril continued, his words dripping with confidence.

t was an arrogant statement, but coming from the Church’s foremost sword, it was not without basis.

“The Holy War must end in victory,” the Archbishop insisted.

“As long as I am in this battle, it will,” Yunnaeril assured him.

“When do you plan to march?”

“If Your Eminence grants permission, we can march as early as tomorrow.”

“Do so.”

With the Archbishop’s reluctant consent, Yunnaeril wasted no time. He looked down at the assembled soldiers.

The Church had mustered a force of 40,000 soldiers, not counting the additional forces that would later join from the Federation. Every one of these soldiers was prepared to give their life for the Church.

Yunnaeril was given full command of the army. Standing with him on the platform were five Paladins and two masked men. Although no one dared ask, the masked men were none other than Scylla and Callisto, now puppets under Yunnaeril’s control.

The remaining Paladins divided the command of the army’s vanguard and rearguard.

“March!” Yunnaeril’s voice thundered across the ranks.

The sound of drums echoed through the air, followed by the rumbling of boots against the earth as the army began to move.

With the Church’s declaration of a Holy War, Elfenbine quickly went on high alert. Those gathered in the tower found themselves dazed by the realization that their fears had been realized.

“Why are you all so surprised? We all knew this was coming,” Binaeril remarked, his voice calm despite the tension.

“The war is really upon us now,” Duke Torben Dux muttered, rubbing his rough chin as he processed the reality of the situation.

Those gathered included Dean Yulio, Duke Dux, Binaeril, Priya, and several other professors—all key figures in Elfenbine’s defense. Inyakan had chosen not to attend, saying he wasn’t interested in such complex discussions. But there was another notable absence.

“Is the Master of the Tower not coming?” Duke Dux asked.

“No, she has not,” someone replied.

The most crucial figure, the Master of the Tower herself, had not attended the meeting.

“Shouldn’t she be here? She is the strongest force in Elfenbine, after all,” the Duke grumbled.

“The Master of the Tower is aware of everything happening in Elfenbine. She’s entrusted the discussion of the war to us,” another explained.

“Damn mysticism,” the Duke muttered under his breath.

“That’s just how she is. Always pretending to be above worldly matters,” someone else added.

The Duke, about to voice more complaints, clamped his mouth shut, realizing she was probably listening in on this conversation as well. Regardless, there was a more pressing reason for their gathering today.

“How do we prepare for this war?”

The Church had indeed declared war, and news had already arrived that soldiers were on their way from the Holy Kingdom to Elfenbine. While Elfenbine had its mages and the Duke’s soldiers, their numbers paled in comparison to the forces the Church had amassed.

“Their target is Elfenbine, isn’t it? We can’t possibly defend just one tower with the forces we have,” Duke Dux, the most experienced in warfare, led the discussion.

“What do you suggest we do then?” someone asked, anxiety evident in their voice.

“Wouldn’t it be better to face the enemy on open ground, where we can better utilize our magic, rather than within the narrow confines of the tower? What if we meet the Church’s forces before they reach Elfenbine?” suggested Sir Baron.

“If you can defeat over 40,000 troops with magic alone, then that might be possible,” the Duke responded, casting a glance at Dean Yulio.

The Dean shook his head. “It’s impossible.”

“Besides, Elfenbine has no territory to speak of. There are some villages nearby, but they don’t belong to Elfenbine proper,” Yulio added.

“Our best option seems to be to fortify the entrance to the tower and confront the enemy as they come,” someone else suggested.

“So we just sit and wait for them to attack?” another voice questioned, frustration seeping through.

“At this point, that might be our only choice…,” the speaker trailed off, acknowledging the inadequacy of such a strategy against an army of tens of thousands.

As the discussion faltered, yielding little of value, Binaeril, who had been silent until now, raised his hand. All eyes turned to him.

“Why do we need to protect Elfenbine?” Binaeril asked, his gaze sweeping across the room as he posed the question.