A Gentle Noble's Vacation Recommendation

“Thinking he’s standing above everyone just because he can control monsters… it’s like watching a king of the sandbox. Must be exhausting.”

On the first night of the great invasion, Eleven strolled through the quiet city streets, openly mocking as he walked.

They were on their way back from what Lizel called a “walk” with Gill: heading to the mana device the culprit had set up, and cutting down all the monsters that had been lying in wait. It might have counted as a bit of pre‑bedtime exercise, he thought, lifting the hem of his shirt at his chest.

Top‑class gear didn’t grow musty from walking through damp underground passages, but exercise was exercise; he’d broken a light sweat. He fanned his shirt to let in some air, thinking he really wanted a shower before sleeping.

“If he’s satisfied just moving around that level of small fry, he’s not even close to being a match for our leader.”

“Hm?”

“The only one who can move me and Big Brother is you, y’know. Right, Big Brother?”

“Shut it.”

Eleven cackled, and Lizel gave a wry smile.

Of course, Eleven was just teasing; he probably didn’t mean it seriously. Neither Eleven nor Gill had the slightest intention of serving under Lizel. The same was true for Lizel.

He’d never looked down on the two of them, never tried to make them obey. He’d always treated them as equals. And he was always grateful that, on top of that, they acted for his sake.

Even so, Lizel found it genuinely mysterious that to those around them, it always looked like he had the two of them following behind him.

“I don’t think he’s satisfied.”

“Hah?”

“Mr. Ruler. I don’t think he’s satisfied just controlling monsters.”

“He’s a beast tamer though?”

“Precisely because he’s taken beast taming to the extreme.”

You could tell even just from his published books: the culprit’s temperament was, in every way, that of a researcher.

He had mastered the art of bending monsters to his will as a tamer, become a court mage attached to the royal palace, yet even then he hadn’t stopped his investigations. He’d holed up in his private laboratory, pursuing research day and night. What was it he sought?

Everyone called him the supreme beast tamer. What more could there be for him to do?

The path to a higher peak that he’d discovered after reaching the summit was something that no one would ever accept.

“He’s probably trying to obtain a mind control technique for humans.”

Or perhaps he already had. Lizel said that quietly.

“Hah? You can go from controlling monsters to controlling people just like that?”

“Of course not. It’s a completely different realm. Like the difference between the magic we use and labyrinth‑type magic.”

They might look similar, but they were on different levels—that was what Lizel meant.

If they weren’t, beast tamers would already have been wiped out, or at least their art would be kept rigorously hidden. That was how far removed a mind control technique for humans was from beast‑taming magic.

Then why did Lizel think the culprit had strayed from the human path to reach for such a taboo?

“You can’t really understand how someone who’s reached the top thinks, but… I’m probably not wrong.”

“If anyone could understand, it’d be you.”

“I agree with Big Brother.”

“You’re overestimating me. I only realized it thanks to these.”

Without saying “Ta‑da,” Lizel nonetheless proudly took out several books.

The two of them must have guessed even before he pulled them out, because they already carried a “figures” air about them; when the books actually appeared, their reaction was tepid. Lizel looked a little disgruntled.

These two had watched him predict plot developments over and over and had accepted it as a matter of course, never reacting. Why did he think they’d suddenly raise their voices and be impressed in this situation? When books were involved, Lizel’s otherwise excellent thought process tended to skew just a bit.