Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“An idea shop, huh? That’s quite ingenious,” Binaeril remarked.

“Isn’t it? But these days, young Toins don’t have the same innovative spirit. All they care about is becoming blacksmiths or jewelers. No vision, no creativity! Back in my day…” The shopkeeper began to grumble, his voice growing louder as he went on.

Sensing that the old Toin could easily talk for half an hour if left unchecked, Binaeril seized the moment to interrupt him. “Excuse me, sir, we’re looking for the Toin King. Do you know where he is?”

“…No ambition, I tell you. Just the same old molds and molten metal. What’s so fun about that? Anyway, so boring, so stuck in the past…”

“Sir!”

“Hmm? What? What is it?”

“The Toin King! Do you know where he is?”

The shopkeeper tilted his head slightly at the mention of the Toin King, as if pondering the question. Just when Binaeril was about to give up hope, the answer he had been waiting for finally came.

“Of course, I know!”

“Oh, really?”

“The Toin King lives in this city.”

And then came the less-than-satisfying follow-up. “I already know that. But the problem is, where in this large city is he? No matter how much I look around Steelbelt, I don’t see any castle or palace fit for a king.”

That was Binaeril’s main concern. Steelbelt was the capital of Aliba, and the Toin King was supposed to live here. So why was there no visible castle or palace for him to reside in? It wasn’t as though the Toin lacked the skill to build one.

“Because there are too many people like you,” the shopkeeper muttered as he squinted his eyes and tapped Binaeril’s chest with his finger.

“There are too many who seek the Toin King for trivial reasons. All the other races know about the Toin’s talents.”

Binaeril, though he hadn’t done anything wrong, suddenly felt as if he was being scolded.

“If he built a tall castle and lived there, all sorts of people would flock to him. That’s why he tore down the castle and now wanders around the city. It’s better that way—fewer headaches from dealing with the nonsense that comes with being a king.”

There was a mix of frustration and resignation in the shopkeeper’s tone.

“Humans, especially, come with all sorts of ridiculous requests. They demand weapons, ask for support in wars, or even beg to meet other non-human races. It’s exhausting!”

“Uh, excuse me….”

The shopkeeper was now on another tirade, and it seemed Binaeril had unintentionally triggered his anger.

“They even try to track down the other non-human races that Aliba protects—beastfolk, halflings, and the few remaining fairies!”

Ouch. Binaeril winced, feeling a pang of guilt this time.

“Do you know why? Because they want special slaves! And when we kick them out, they come back with soldiers, claiming that the Toin are oppressing humans. What kind of nonsense is that?”

“I-I’m sorry. Please, calm down….”

Binaeril tried to calm down the fuming Toin. “But we really need to meet the king. We have a request to make.”

The Toin, still pouting, replied with a surly expression, “Why should I care?”

Inyakan shook his head and stepped forward. “Leave it to me, Binaeril. A few punches should loosen his tongue, whether he wants to talk or not.”

The shopkeeper snorted, rising to the challenge. “Go ahead and try.”

“No, Inyakan! If you start a fight here, the other Toin will capture us and throw us out in no time. Please, just stay calm!” Binaeril quickly stepped in front of Inyakan, trying to hold him back.

The shopkeeper watched this exchange, then spoke up. “Or you could meet one condition of mine.”

“A condition?” Binaeril asked, curious.

“I told you, didn’t I? This place sells dreams. If you can bring to life even one of the designs on these blueprints, I’ll tell you where the Toin King is.”

He waved a random piece of paper from the disheveled pile in front of him. 

“What kind of nonsense is this, dwarf? How do you expect anyone to bring these ridiculous blueprints to life?” Inyakan scoffed.

“Ridiculous? These blueprints are the result of my painstaking efforts! And don’t call me a dwarf! I’ve lived decades longer than you, you brat!”

“Must have been decades without a drop of milk,” Inyakan retorted.

“You little—how dare you speak to your elder like that!”

But while the two were bickering, an idea suddenly struck Binaeril. He picked up one of the blueprints from the pile.

Seeing what Binaeril had chosen, the shopkeeper said, “Oh? That’s my most recent design. It’s more complex than the others—so intricate that even most Toin engineers wouldn’t be able to understand it at a glance.”

Indeed, the blueprint depicted a tangled array of complex structures and mechanisms. But the outcome was simple: a cannon triggered by the movement of a finger. And this was something Binaeril knew well.

He might not understand the detailed mechanics, but Binaeril could bring the blueprint to life using what he was most familiar with—magic.

“Is this what you’re talking about?” Binaeril asked, holding up the blueprint.

Inyakan and the shopkeeper, who had been at each other’s throats, turned to look at Binaeril. He pointed his thumb and index finger at a shelf, focusing on the design’s concept. 

Following his incantation, a magic bullet shot from his fingers, narrowly missing the shopkeeper’s beard, before crashing into the shelf and sending its contents tumbling to the floor.

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at the shattered shelf, then back at Binaeril. “What in the world just happened?”

Hearing the loud crash, several Toin from outside rushed in. “Ducat! What kind of commotion is this?”

Ducat—apparently the shopkeeper’s name—hurriedly waved off the onlookers and locked the door to his shop. 

“A-ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit it that hard,” 

“Are you a mage?” 

“No, but you told me to bring the blueprint to life, didn’t you? Not to smash things,” Binaeril replied, feeling a bit wronged. So, he decided to be a little cheeky.

“But I did bring it to life.”

“What am I supposed to do if you go around smashing up other people’s stuff?”

“But I did it, didn’t I?” Binaeril insisted.

The shopkeeper, visibly trembling with frustration at Binaeril’s cheekiness, turned away in a huff. “A deal’s a deal. Now tell us where the Toin King is,” Binaeril pressed.

The shopkeeper mumbled something under his breath, barely audible. Inyakan, growing impatient, snapped, “Speak up, dwarf.”

“I’m the Toin King, you fools!”

The Toin King led them to a cramped room at the back of the shop. It was just big enough for Binaeril, but when Inyakan entered, the space felt completely packed.

“…I’ll just stay by the door,” Inyakan muttered, awkwardly seating himself on the threshold.

“So, why are you looking for the Toin King?” the king asked.

Binaeril explained their quest, particularly about the nymphs they sought. Upon hearing the word “nymph,” the Toin King tugged at his beard so hard it seemed it might come off.

“How do you know about the nymphs?”

“A nymph told me herself.”

“There are so few nymphs left in the world…,” the Toin King trailed off, clearly conflicted. He couldn’t completely dismiss their request, especially after what he’d promised.

He finally said, “I’ll arrange a meeting with the Mother of Nymphs.”

“But!” 

“But?” Binaeril echoed, sensing yet another condition coming.

“There’s a condition.”

“Again?” Binaeril sighed.

“If you’d asked for something else, I would’ve honored the promise without any fuss. But this is different. The Mother of Nymphs has her own circumstances. I can’t just promise you’ll meet her without a good reason, can I?”

Binaeril had to admit that made sense.

“If I’m going to help you, I need a justification. That’s what this condition is about.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“The ‘Festival of Three Names’ begins tomorrow in Steelbelt.”

“Festival of Three Names?” Inyakan asked, puzzled.

But Binaeril recognized it. The Festival of Three Names was an annual Toin celebration held in Aliba. It was a grand event that not only celebrated the Toin but also honored the cultures and traditions of three other non-human races.

“If you win the Festival of Three Names, I’ll arrange the meeting with her.”

The Festival of Three Names spanned three days, with each day featuring different competitions that paid tribute to one of the three non-human races being celebrated.

Each competition at the festival awards a prize to the winner, and it’s said that anyone who wins all three competitions in a single year receives a special reward from the Toin King. However, there was a catch.

“The first event is probably…” Binaeril began.

The Toin King chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Hehehe.”

“What’s with that ominous laugh?” Inyakan asked, confused, tilting his head.

“You enjoy drinking beer, don’t you, Inyakan?” the Toin King asked.

“I never get enough of it,” Inyakan replied confidently.

The Toin people’s pride, second only to their skill in crafting weapons and jewelry, was at stake. The first event was all about that pride.

The Toin King burst into laughter. “Hahaha! Then you’re in luck! The pride of the Toin! The joy of the Toin! The first competition of the Festival of Three Names is—drinking as much beer as you can!”

“Beer drinking?” Inyakan’s eyes widened in surprise, as round as walnuts.

“No, you’re wrong!” The Toin King wagged his finger side to side. “It’s not just about drinking beer. It’s about drinking it quickly and drinking a lot!”

This straightforward and almost brutish competition was the first event of the festival. Inyakan, catching the excitement, joined the Toin King in laughter, exuding confidence.

“In that case, the first victory is as good as ours!”

Binaeril felt a wave of relief wash over him. *Thank goodness Inyakan is here.* With that confidence, they welcomed the first day of the Festival of Three Names without worry.

“Uurrgh!”

Binaeril pounded on Inyakan’s broad back with a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Bleeerrgh! Uuurgh!”

“You said you could handle it!” Binaeril shouted over Inyakan’s gasps.

“Huff, huff. I’ve never tasted beer like this before,” Inyakan groaned.

“What do you mean? Beer is beer! You boasted you’d win, and now look at you!”

Inyakan was usually a strong drinker. When Binaeril first met him, Inyakan had downed pints of beer like a pelican. But there was one crucial detail they had overlooked…

Toin beer was nothing like the cheap brew sold in taverns. 

At the first sip, Inyakan’s eyes lit up, savoring the taste. “Delicious!”

“Refreshing!”

“Amazing!”

Each gulp sent a crisp, invigorating sensation down his throat, accompanied by the rich aroma of barley and the frothy bubbles that fizzed like a witch’s cauldron.

And that was it. Inyakan couldn’t even finish his first tankard, as large as his forearm, before he had to retire from the competition.

“This… ugh! This beer is… different from what I’m used to… uuurgh!” Inyakan groaned, struggling to keep the potent Toin brew down.

Binaeril remembered the first time he tried Toin beer in the Duchy; it was like discovering a whole new world.

“Uuurgh—urp! Uuugh! Bleeeh!”

“Oh, for crying out loud! Can you just pick one sound and stick with it?” Binaeril snapped. Normally, Inyakan would have retorted, but he was too busy fighting the urge to vomit.

“Huff, huff. I’m begging you, Binaeril… uuurgh!” Inyakan pleaded.

“Ugh, shut your mouth! It’s disgusting!” Binaeril grumbled.

They had 20 minutes to complete the challenge, and each team could have up to three members. Unfortunately, Binaeril’s team only had two. Switching participants mid-round wasn’t against the rules, which meant Binaeril still had a chance to salvage the situation.

Resigning himself to the task, Binaeril sat down at the table. The long table was lined with participants, most of them stout, sturdy Toins, though there were a few other non-humans and humans as well.

“Aren’t you going to give up? Your friend is down for the count. You should just quit while you’re ahead,” one of the competitors jeered.

Among the row of strong, burly participants, Binaeril’s slight frame made him look even more out of place. 

“I haven’t lost yet!” Binaeril retorted, determined. He couldn’t afford to falter on the first day if he wanted to fulfill the Toin King’s conditions.

“Binaeril… I’m counting on you to… uuugh… do your best… urp!” Inyakan croaked.

With a sigh and an internal string of curses, Binaeril stared down at the enormous mug of beer in front of him.

“Ugh,” he groaned, just thinking about drinking all of it made his stomach feel tight, but he knew he had no choice.

“Here goes nothing!” he shouted.

“Oooooooh!” The crowd erupted in cheers as Binaeril bravely downed the first mug, drawing everyone’s attention.