検索キーワード： 著者 "Oleg Sapphire" すべてのカテゴリー

I've finally gotten the message that this is no kind of vacation. Hell, I've had to spin around like a squirrel in a wheel! And the squirrels haven't even reached us yet . . . But I have enough headaches even without those furry little racist bastards. Everywhere I turn, everyone wants to pick on the 'lowly baron.' Well, best of luck to 'em . . . Ha-ha!

Ich hätte alles werden können: Koch, Chauffeur, Pianist, Künstler, Aristokrat. Aber wo wäre da der Spaß geblieben? In meinem früheren Leben war ich einer der berühmtesten Dämonologen. Gehörnte Fürsten und Meister der Hölle waren vor meinem Namen zurückgewichen und hatten vor Furcht gezittert. Mein Name war immer noch gefürchtet und jagte den Dämonen Angst und Schrecken ein. Aber das war erst der Anfang, denn in meiner neuen Welt hatte ich beschlossen, Soldat zu werden. Warum, mag man fragen? Ganz einfach. Die Armee bot ein wildes Abenteuer, das man selbst erlebt haben musste, um es zu glauben.

They were just a bunch of ordinary demonologists trying to summon an ordinary demon...but at the moment of summoning, something went wrong. Still, demon or demonologist—what was the difference to them, anyway? Either way, they were going to have fun.

I used to be the greatest Earth Mage in my world. The head of the entire Order of Architects. But the older you get, the more you come to realize that at some point, you need to retire, so that you can have the chance to enjoy a peaceful life and to cede your place to the young, some of whom have already turned two thousand years old . . .So that's what I did. But I failed to account for one thing: during the course of my long life, I'd accumulated too many enemies, and they had decided to spoil my retirement. So they died along with me. And I hope their deaths were final. But mine was not!

What does the Code have in store for me next? Looks like I'm never going to get to relax. This world I've ended up in is on the brink of a great war. It'll be a tragedy for its inhabitants.

I was the most powerful healer in my world—the best, having devoted my entire life to mastering the art of healing. And yet, for whatever reason, my brother feared that I sought to claim his throne, and he marshaled his forces against me.

Mikhail isn't greedy, no! He's simply thrifty, practical. And he cannot fathom how anyone can leave trophies behind on the battlefield. No way does that mean he's stealing them! And of course Mikhail isn't a slave master! Although those who he corralled into signing service contracts might not agree.

Mikhail's power had only grown with every new day, and his Family was also flourishing. However, so were their enemies. New ones had emerged, and old ones who'd long ago written them off were now stirring. But really, was this a problem? He was a healer, and there was always a remedy, and mandatory "treatment" could not be stopped! Indeed, his enemies would pay handsomely for it. At least, whatever remained of them.

What could be simpler? On my very first day in this world, I was given the title of a count along with all the trimmings: a castle, name, lands and power. You'd think I had it made, but no . . . They seized my castle, took my lands, and now, I'm surrounded by enemies. Moreover, it's nothing but one headache after another with the authorities. And even though I wrested my castle back, the neighbors aren't going anywhere, and they live and breathe to tear off chunks of my land, and eliminate me, the new head of the family.

Gangsters, aristocrats, offworlders . . . What difference does it make? To Mikhail Bulatov, none whatsoever. Any of them could be friend or foe, and he could care less what world they're from or what their place is in the social order. As for his enemies, any conversation will be equally brief, even if different in content. And yes, those out to get him are ramping up their efforts, and increasing in number. Not that there's any question of his ability to handle it all. That being said, he must not lose sight of who he is. First and foremost, he is a Healer.

Evidently, for whatever reason, there were still many who fail to comprehend who Mikhail Bulatov really is. These are the ones who see him as just a Healer. Their attempts to kill him in a duel, or to simply poison him only amuse him. But his first government contract to treat an aristocrat is encouraging. Mikhail enjoys working as a Healer—it is, after all, his calling. And how refreshing to use his Gift not to kill, but to heal, as well.

The threats I've been facing in this world, well, it's like playing whack-a-mole. The local aristocrats are still conspiring to put roadblocks in the path of the ever more powerful Bulatov Family. And then I have the offworlders from another world—they haven't gone anywhere, either. They're still opening portals and sending through invaders, although, thus far, these attacks have been isolated grabs for loot and prisoners. A portal opens, offworlders dash out, get what they can, and retreat.

Mikhail came here from a world where not just force, but also a man's word, meant something. But here in his new home, it was different. Not only were there few here who possessed strong Gifts, or were truly powerful mages, there were still fewer who knew how to keep their word. How, then, was he to restore the status of the Bulatov Family? Of course, as the head of the Family, Mikhail would never give up, and he always managed to find a way to outsmart his adversaries.

A good Healer, they say, must use his Gift professionally. Really? No one in my past world would spout such nonsense! Everyone there knew full well what a Healer from the Order was capable of . . . And they also know that a Healer doesn't have to kowtow to anybody. But now, I'm no longer in that world. And in this world, I am not only a great Healer, I am also a great count, one that can do far more than heal, as my enemies know full well. But little do they know that I've only just begun!

Mikhail's adventures continue. He's finding out ever more about this world, and the Empire in which he lives. But he's in for some surprises, still. They've tasked him with training the most hopeless students from the Department of Healing Arts. Perhaps this was meant to be a way of punishing Mikhail, but in the end, it's tough luck for the students. After all, look at who they got for a teacher! One thing's for sure, no way will these students end up as mediocre Healers!

This world never fails to surprise me! I take care of one problem only to be confronted by yet another—my unceasing enemies want what is mine. Is it that hard for them to comprehend that I, the Archmagister of Healing, can't be had so easily? Why, oh why are healers in this world seen as the weakest of the Gifted? It makes no sense to me. In my former world, everybody knew that Healers were to be respected and feared. Ah, well. It won't be long before they wish they'd never crossed my path.

Events are intensifying around Mikhail Bulatov. The emperor is starting to wonder how he could be just an ordinary Healer, and he's even considering entrusting him with a matter of special importance. Yes, the emperor suspects a lot, but not that Bulatov has geese working for him, and that Leonid himself considers him a friend. And that's just the tip of the iceberg . . . What will happen should the emperor finally realize the truth about Mikhail?