My Childhood Friend Is An Archmage Chapter 72
Translated by d6y (ko-fi)
Chapter 72
I can't help but click my tongue.
Why does she have to talk about Hubert’s back in the presence of his younger brother?
No, the problem isn't with Artberry. It's with her brother, who casually rants about him to her. Or, at the very least, he could've explained what family Hubert was from.
Like brother, like sister.
I shake my head and lift my teacup again.
"What else did he do, Lady Artberry?" Lancer asks in a surprisingly calm voice.
Hmm.
This is a little unexpected. Being terribly protective of his family, and me, Lancer doesn't have anyone else to care about. But why is he so calm when someone is mocking his second brother?
I decided not to intervene and let the situation play out.
Meanwhile, clueless Artberry clicks her tongue. "Well, my brother says he always eats three plates at mealtimes! How poor must his family be to empty their plates so greedily? You think he's strange, too, Lord Lancer, don't you?"
"No."
"Oh, why not?" When her desired response doesn't come, Artberry looks puzzled.
‘What…? Back in Count Vrans, everyone would automatically agree with me… but why is the atmosphere here so cold?’
I think I've gotten a pretty good idea of how Artberry has been socialising. I mean, the first time I met her, she was talking sh*t about me. I feel sorry for her, who's learnt to keep a conversation going by putting others down.
‘I’ll try again! Lord Lancer will agree this time!’
Swallowing, Artberry turns to Lancer. "Don't you think he's strange?"
"No."
"Well, then why are you asking me what else he's done?"
"Because I know him."
"Really? You must know him a little better than I do, then. Think about it, that Hubert guy is kind of weird, isn't he? He must have hit his head hard somewhere in his childhood, or he wouldn't be this crazy—"
"He's my big brother."
"...ly handsome!" Only then did she realise that she was close to the reef. Artberry swerves. "W-What angle should I hit my head to look so good? I've always wanted to meet someone like Lord Hubert!"
I think she's going a bit too far now….
"Ooh, the truth is, I like to say bad things about people I like, it's a weird thing to do, but it's true! Ha, ha!"
Stop it. Don't try to rationalise it.
"I'm a little bit like that! Spitting on my favourite cake so no one else can touch it but me, ha, ha, ha!"
Please stop, don't try to make a logical point with that lame analogy.
But Artberry has no idea how much uglier it could get.
Viscount Artisina, who's munching on a cookie in the corner, interrupts her.
"Oh, I did that when I was a kid, too! But I didn't do it to a cake, I did it to my father's favourite horse!"
You shut up in the corner, Viscount! What are you, an angry camel spitting on an innocent horse?!
"Of course, I got kicked by the horse. But I'm glad I'm not the only weird one here, phew."
Don't feel relieved in a place like this!
"Wow, that's interesting!"
Aronia, what is that supposed to mean?
"Yeah, didn't we all do that when we were kids?" Aronia laughs nervously, trying to defuse the situation. "I wanted a doll that my brother had so badly that I spilt tomato juice on it because my brother is allergic to tomatoes. After that, I was allowed to have it. Now that I think about it, I feel really bad for my brother."
Aronia, shut up too! This is not confession time! And that's really creepy!
"If you wanted a doll, wouldn't you just use money to buy another one?"
His Highness, please stop!
"Money can't buy everything, Crown Prince." The Viscount smirks.
Then the Crown Prince follows to quirk his lips. "Money must have been scarce in your household."
Hold up. The Viscount is Prince Cade, so when he says his house, he means the royal family of the Hebnia Kingdom.
The insulted Viscount (aka Prince in disguise) slams the table. ''Don't disrespect the wealth of my family. I really don't want to say this, but I'm pretty sure we have a calf made of diamonds, maybe two hundred of them."
"Well, Marquess Garnett has a squirrel statue made of gold, a precious artefact from the west!" Aronia somehow manages to salvage the broken pattern of dialogue.
Though, it's no different than trying to perform CPR on a skeleton that's already in its grave.
Viscount Artisina frowns at Aronia's words. "I don't like squirrels."
"What? Why?"
"Because I don't like rats."
"I don't like cockroaches."
"I don't like birds, they have sharp claws that look like hooks."
"What do you do with your feathery decorations if you don't like birds?"
"And how do you ride in a wheeled carriage if you don't like cockroaches?"
"Viscount, I've never heard such a silly question before, because, of course, a carriage doesn't roll without wheels."
"Come to think of it, why is a cockroach called a cockroach? Don't they usually name them after what they look like?"
"Well, the feathers in my hat are artificial feathers from the west. They're man-made, so they look just like the real thing."
"By the way, bats are rats, too. I've seen them, and they squeak and cry. You didn't know that, did you?"
"Speaking of rats, I have a pet cat. Her name is Snow."
"That's a cute name, but why are cats called cats?"
Ugh!
Now I'm feeling uncomfortable sitting here. What kind of argument is this? This feels like hell with no exit.
Why is it that Artberry is the one who made a mistake, but I'm the one suffering? Why has this well-meaning tea party turned into such a mess? Is this a prison for those who can't socialise?
I need to get out of this crazy place!
"...Please excuse me for a moment."
With a squeak, my chair is pushed back.
The Crown Prince, who's been engaged in a heated argument about the etymology of cockroach, turns towards me.
"Where are you going, Kayla?"
"I'm going to get some air."
"I'll give you some air."
Then Lancer, who's been sitting still, snaps his fingers.
Whoosh!
A strong wind blows, reminiscent of a summer typhoon.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!
Everything on the table is swept away by the frenzied wind.
Teacups, teapots, cakes, cookies, forks, cats, sugar, jam, napkins…..
…Wait, why is a cat flying?
"Snow! No, Snow!" Aronia screams as she witnesses her pet cat fly away.
I hastily grab Lancer by the shoulders and shake him.
"Lancer! Stop using magic!"
"Are you done getting some air?"
"Yes, I think I've gotten all the air I'll ever need!"
But Lancer doesn't understand. "A lifetime in less than a minute?! Your lifespan will be longer than you think, Skyla."
"I know, but you're chipping away at my lifespan in real time!" I scream in frustration.
Fortunately, Lancer quickly withdraws his magic, and everything in the garden that sways in the wind settles back down.
Aronia's cat, Snow, that came out of nowhere, is luckily found on the apple tree in the garden.
"I've never seen a wild apple before."
"Then look," I say grimly to Lancer, who's staring at the apple tree in wonder.
Meanwhile, Marquess Garnett’s men arrive with ladders and climb the tree to rescue Snow.
Snow is physically unharmed but emotionally devastated.
The tea party organised to encourage Lancer's sociability has come to an end, as the cat's psychological stability was crucial.
* * *
"How was the tea party at the Marquess Garnett today?"
"I plan to register it as an official forbidden word of the Kaerun Duchy in the future," I reply to my parents, who are asking me about my day.
Dinner that night is quieter than a dead rat.
After dinner, I'm about to return to my room when an unexpected figure waits for me in front of my room.
"Princess."
"Ah, the Viscount."
It was Viscount Artisina.
The one who hasn't said a word to me. He should've told me if he was gonna suddenly burst into the tea party, at least.
"Have you had your dinner?"
"Yes. And the Viscount?"
"He ate in my chambers."
The other servants the Crown Prince sent to me have already returned to the imperial court. But with the Crown Prince’s permission, I haven't sent the Viscount back. This is so that whenever I have a question about the Archmage, I can ask him.
"I'm sorry about the tea party at Marquess Garnett's today." His words make me feel depressed again.
"That's a forbidden word now."
"Oh, I see, my apologies."
With an awkward smile, he looks around. When he's sure that no one is eavesdropping on us, he tilts his head slightly towards me and speaks in a low voice.
"Well, I don't know how to say this, but I've come to… console you, Princess."
I smirk. "How?"
"I will comfort you physically."
"...?"
Embarrassment holds me back from speaking.
I was about to get angry at the stupidity of it, until I realised.
Oh, I know what this is.
He subtly emphasises the word "physically" to make my heart skip a beat, and then takes me into a room and gives me a massage. With the bonus of me blushing, he'll tease me like, "What the hell were you imagining?"
It's a common repertoire from the romance novels I devoured as a kid.
"I'm sorry, but I don't like massages."
"What? I wasn't offering a massage."
"Then what is it?"
"I was trying to be sweet to make you feel better."
What?
