Ep 46. Lords Are Mean. (3)

Ep 46. Lords Are Mean. (3)

Ep 46. Lords Are Mean. (3)

Patrick fixed his composure in heavy breaths in the practicing fields, wiping off the sweat on his forehead. Piles of broken practice targets were littered around him, with blocks of shattered ice every then and there that gradually faded away.

- ‘And it certainly doesn’t require as much mana as you claimed it does.’

The enforcer bit his lips as he remembered what his little brother...or, sister?...sibling, had said.

‘Damn it, ‘doesn’t cost as much mana’ my ass! This spell’s going to kill me before I pull it off.’

Turns out he still couldn’t use a Snow Claw spell properly. He was making progress, but at a snail’s pace.

‘The formula isn’t even that hard...do I just have to wait for my reserve to grow? How do I...’

“Ah, Parma. There you are.”

Patrick turned around to face the individual calling his name. It was one of the enforcement sector’s agents, specifically one of the personnel that handled reports.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t come to kick me out, did you? Didn’t look like the training grounds were booked.”

“Haha, nothing like that. Though, are you alright practicing with your injuries?”

“I’m fine. Figured I’d come practice a spell I’d been working on before, now that I have some time and all.”

“Diligent as ever, I see.”

Patrick momentarily teared up as the compliment reached his ears.

Somehow, it felt like an eternity since he’d heard one. Surely he was imagining things.

Not that the agent knew what was going on inside his head. He briefly glimpsed at the last remains of the dissipating ice before looking at Patrick again.

“Which spell?”

“Uh...Snow Claw.”

“Isn’t that an 8th circle spell? I didn’t realize you were so proficient in ice magic.”

“Long way to go, still.”

The enforcer groaned, shrugging as he answered. A mana shortage wasn’t exactly a problem he could fix overnight.

“Anyways, what’s up?”

“Ah, you see, the chief had a job for Iris in the cities. I believe she’s gone to interrogate the dragon from last night. But...

“But?”

“We haven’t heard back from her for the entire day.”

“...The whole day?”

“That’s correct. There hasn’t been any additional incident reports, but...as you know, it’s not like Iris to go silent for so long.”

Iris Alpid. She was undoubtedly the most active and hard-working of Mage Association’s enforcement sector, and also a person who strictly lived by paranoid regulations that she’d set for herself. She reported at least twice an hour on scene through magic, and that was assuming she didn’t already wrap up the case in that time.

However, Patrick still frowned at the request. While it was worrying news, it wasn’t something that should’ve been reaching him in the first place.

Patrick rubbed his aching forehead. As far as he was concerned, those who strictly bound themselves with regulations at a paranoid level were often trying to keep themselves away from certain behaviors.

Just once, there was a time when Patrick drank with Iris – and that was the day he learned what hers was. That woman could NOT control her drinking habits when exposed to alcohol.

‘And out of all the people she could be drinking with...’

Patrick’s gaze shifted from his coworker to the dragon sitting on the neighboring chair. Admittedly, after last night’s happening, both Iris and Patrick had grown a bit closer to the rather friendly red dragon.

‘But that still doesn’t mean you should be drinking with her on duty, Iris...’

Patrick slowly made his way to the two drinking women, loudly clearing his throat as he stared at his coworker from the corner of his eyes. His tone was unusually oppressive as the mage tried to feign at least some form of dignity for their jobs.

“Enforcer Alpid. You’re on duty.”

“...Patrick? Weren’t you on leave?”

He snatched the mug of beer away from Iris’ hand.

“Yes, I still am. And you aren’t.”

“Hey! Gimme that!”

“Are you drunk?”

“Of course I’m not. I’m just keeping watch over the dragon...”

“Really? Because you don’t need beer to keep watch, and I heard you haven’t reported once since leaving.”

“...Just gimme that.”

“No.”

Ilias drowsily watched the two enforcers fight. The alcohol had almost knocked the dragon off her senses by this point.

“Aww, don’t fight...I’ll buy you another one...”

Iris made a sheepish smile towards the dragon, nodding her head in approval.

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing? I’ll make sure your name gets taken off our list later.”

Patrick squinted in disbelief at his flushed coworker.

‘Holy Maker, she’s practically giggling. She’s totally drunk. She sounds totally sober but she’s totally drunk. She’s spitting nonsense.’

Patrick swiftly took hold of the staff hanging on his back. The staff’s head began to glow in a shimmering green light as he tapped it over his coworker’s head, putting her to sleep.

“Ooh, that’s cooool...your staff is all glowyy...”

And that was the last thing Ilias said before her head also fell into the table, falling asleep on its wooden surface.

“...”

With the drinking pair now knocked out, Patrick looked towards the tavernkeep. The man was looking back at the enforcer with a pleading gaze.

“...Take ‘em both if you can, will ya? Ain’t no one gonna move that lass outta her table. I ain’t kiddin’ when I say I’ve seen her sneeze flames before.”

“...”

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