CHAPTER 7 I Offer Vestiges of Autumn In the western part of Kelielinden Forest, Bartholomeus Baal sat cross-legged, cradling Rynzbelfeid’s head. The wind spirit’s eyes were still closed; she had yet to move. A good deal of time had passed since he’d parted ways with the Silent Witch. Had she successfully persuaded the Gem Mage? He looked closely at Ryn. Her skin was fair without a single blemish, and she had smooth, flowing golden locks. A maid’s uniform wrapped her well-proportioned limbs. He took his time relishing the sight of Ryn’s sleeping face. After all, he never tired of beautiful things. One mustn’t call him creepy. It was just that, as an artisan, Bartholomeus had a sincere, earnest appreciation for beauty. …Not to say he didn’t ogle, of course. Nice breasts, too, he thought. Actually, come to think of it, Monica said Rynny is contracted to the Barrier Mage… Does that mean he’s here, too? Bartholomeus gave a start. Wait, that means…this is my chance to meet him and say, “Oh, sir, please give your Rynny to me!” Bartholomeus didn’t know much about the Barrier Mage as a person, but he figured the man was the wise, gentlemanly sort. He would have to introduce himself now, while he had the chance. As he hummed in thought, he noticed a faint light coming from deeper in the forest. The trees there seemed to be glowing. If it had been dark out, it would have been a beautiful sight indeed—but since it was afternoon, the light didn’t stand out much. Not realizing this was the light of Starweaving Mira returning mana to the forest, Bartholomeus tensed, wondering what was happening. Then Ryn shifted in his arms. She didn’t squirm like someone coming out of slumber. Instead, it was as though she was adjusting her posture slightly before abruptly sitting up in his arms. As a result, her head slammed right into Bartholomeus’s jaw. “Ooof!” Paying Bartholomeus no mind as he careened backward from the headbutt, Ryn stood up and glared into the trees. “…Carla is here,” she said before floating nimbly into the air and taking off into the woods. Bartholomeus sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Oh, I get it. A wonderful man had me in his arms. Eeek! I’m so embarrassed! …Wah-hah! Yeah, I definitely have a chance with her!” His mood quickly brightened, and he got to his feet and ran after Ryn. All thoughts of the dangerously high mana concentrations farther into the forest had left his mind completely. “Rynny! Wait for meeee!” He plunged through the trees and eventually spotted someone in a clearing. It wasn’t the beautiful maid, though, but a gorgeous lady with silver hair wearing a fur coat over her dress. For a second, he thought she was one of the forest spirits. But what drew his eye more than her pretty face was the accessory she wore on her right hand. A star ruby was fastened to it by a gold chain, and Bartholomeus recognized it instantly. As he stood there, mouth agape, the silver-haired woman lifted her right hand. On it, the bright-red ruby flashed. “Oh, oh, to think we should reunite in a place like this…! I knew from the start we were bound by fate! Oh, my beloved!” “Gyaaahhh!” Bartholomeus’s face drew back in terror at the cloying female voice. That was Starweaving Mira, an ancient magical item that brought trouble wherever it went and fell in love with anyone it saw. A few months ago, during the festival in Corlapton, Mira had tried to court him, and he’d nearly died because of it. Wait a minute. If she has Starweaving Mira, then this woman…must be… Bartholomeus took a step back as the silver-haired woman—Mary Harvey, the Starseer Witch—flashed him a friendly smile. “Good day,” she said. He forced a polite smile onto his face. What was the right thing to say here? He had no idea. But his gut told him it would be better not to get involved. On Mary’s right hand, Starweaving Mira continued to babble. “I love you, I love you, I love you! Let us love one another, my dear!” Mary stroked the chatty accessory with a fingertip, then spoke like a mother gently admonishing her child. “No mischief, my little Mira. I would be greatly put off if you were to kill this man.” “I simply want to love my beloved! Please come to me, my dear! Hold me in those arms of yours and make love to me…!” Bartholomeus narrowed his eyes. How the hell would I even do that? he wondered. Mary chanted something under her breath, then touched the ruby on the back of her hand. Evidently, it was some kind of sealing barrier because Starweaving Mira immediately fell silent. “I do apologize for the commotion,” Mary said. “I’d actually like to make a request of you.” “Me? I’m just a wannabe craftsman. Certainly not fit to accept a request from a noblewoman like you,” said Bartholomeus, edging backward as he abased himself. Mary smiled and cut straight to the point. “Your theft of the ancient magical item, Starweaving Mira.” “Urk!” “I could decide not to question you, you know.” Mary remained calm and gentle throughout. And yet, behind her soft demeanor was a cunning streak. She would never show her hand. “Besides, the request isn’t anything difficult.” Bartholomeus gulped, and Mary cocked her head to the side. It was an adorable gesture. “There are only a few months left until the second prince graduates from Serendia Academy… During that time, I’d like you to help the Silent Witch.” He suddenly felt deflated, though he didn’t show it. Wasn’t he already doing that? Wait, I know what’s going on. This woman is cheering for their secret romance, too! In Bartholomeus’s mind, the second prince and the Silent Witch were secret lovers. They’d had a nighttime rendezvous back at Duke Rehnberg’s mansion and everything. He was sure of it. “You can leave it to me, ma’am.” And he, in turn, was in love with Ryn. He was the really cool, understanding big brother who would help those two youngsters burning with lonely passion. “Yeah, I’ll help the kid—er, the Silent Witch. I’ll give her all the support she needs!” “Hee-hee. Thank you.” Mary smiled softly as her smooth, silver hair swayed. Her light-blue eyes seemed almost lost in a dream. She was looking straight at Bartholomeus, but at the same time, her gaze seemed fixed on something else entirely. Released from Galanis’s control, the wind spirit Rynzbelfeid soared high above the forest’s canopy, her maid’s skirt fluttering in the wind. All the while, she kept a close eye on the ground. Ryn was linked to Louis via a contract, so she knew roughly where he was—in the middle of the forest, by the Gem Mage’s cabin. The Gem Mage was on the ground nearby, with several other Sages present: the Silent Witch, the Artillery Mage, the Abyss Shaman, and the Witch of Thorns. Ryn looked farther west. There she found the Starseer Witch and the man with black hair who had been holding her. She thought the man looked familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on who he was, and she didn’t really care. She shifted her gaze again—and there she was. A woman in traveling clothes, her brick-red hair tied back: Carla Maxwell, the Starspear Witch. She’d just exited the forest. Ryn made a rapid, wheeling descent and landed perfectly in front of her. The last time she’d used this landing method, she’d ended up buried up to her knees in dirt, and apparently, that wasn’t considered very stylish. This time, she held herself just above the ground, levitating. Carla didn’t seem surprised to see a beautiful woman in a maid outfit come crashing down from the sky. She met Ryn with a languid grin. “Is there a name for that landing?” she asked. “I have named it the Tornado Kick Landing Method, Version Two. It is extremely stylish.” “If you did that in front of Louis, he’d probably grumble that it was more like an attack.” As she spoke to Carla, Ryn used little gusts of wind to fix her rumpled apron and hair. Once her appearance was back in order, she looked up at the Starspear Witch. “You have saved me once again, I see.” “Nah, I didn’t do much. I was just passing through.” Ryn knew she wasn’t just being modest. Carla disliked excessive praise and tended to shy away from it. So Ryn left her thanks at that and asked instead, “Will you be returning to the capital?” “Not quite. I’m in the middle of a trip. I plan to head west.” “…I see.” As a spirit, Ryn’s sensibilities were different from a human’s. Still, Carla sensed something in the short intervals between her replies and spread out her arms. Ryn had read about this in a book. The woman was giving her permission for a hug. The wind spirit tentatively went over to Carla and pressed herself up against her. Carla chuckled. She embraced the spirit and gave her a few pats on the back. Ryn had heard that humans derived comfort and security from the warmth of other humans’ bodies. She thought it was a shame she didn’t have that sort of warmth herself. After a moment, Carla released her and took a step back. “Okay, I’m gonna get going. You’re in charge while I’m away.” Ryn bowed deeply, a polite gesture befitting of a maid. “I wish you fair travels, Carla.” The Sages had destroyed Galanis, the Flute of the False King, but they still had one more task to complete before they could leave: They had to destroy all the magical items in Emanuel’s possession. Before they began searching the Gem Mage’s cabin in earnest, Bradford and Louis swept the area for traps. As she watched them from the sidelines, Monica approached Ray. “U-umm,” she stammered softly, “Lord Abyss Shaman, where are the two people you helped…?” “Oh, them?” Just as Ray opened his mouth, Monica noticed someone running toward them—a tall young man with brownish-blond hair wearing a Serendia Academy uniform. It was Glenn. Monica quickly shut her mouth and made sure her veil was on properly. “Hey, Purple! Oh, and Rose Guy is okay, too!” Bradford looked at Ray and Raul with raised eyebrows. Purple, Rose Guy—they were simple enough, but they seemed a little silly for a pair of Sages. Louis paused his investigation of the cabin’s outer perimeter and looked at Glenn. “So? Anything to say to your master? The one who so graciously rescued his apprentice from danger?” “Now isn’t the time!” Glenn cried out immediately. He looked desperate. “Ice Spirit! He’s…he’s gonna disappear!” Raul’s face tensed, and Ray scowled. Monica didn’t know what Glenn was talking about. What ice spirit? As she stood there confused, Ray and Raul lowered their voices. “The ice spirit they were with is on the verge of dissipating,” Ray explained. “He sustained a fatal wound, but he was already on the way out…” “Yeah,” agreed Raul. “I talked to him a bit, too. He’d shrunk to the form of a child, and it seemed he’d even forgotten his name.” It was said that spirits were clumps of mana that had developed minds of their own, and when they lost their strength, their bodies would shrink or lose portions while their sense of self blurred. If the spirit had only one such symptom, recovery was possible. But from what Monica was hearing, she doubted there was anything they could do. Still, Glenn continued to plead with them. “The vice president is sharing his mana right now, but Ice Spirit’s body is falling apart… I’d like someone to help him!” “Glenn,” Louis said softly, trying to reason with him. “Spirits are mana. That’s all they are. They don’t die. They simply return to nature.” “You mean even you can’t help him, Master…?” “I cannot.” Louis was an expert at barrier techniques. If he wanted to, he could seal the ice spirit to temporarily stave off his destruction. But a spirit would slowly continue to deteriorate, even when sealed. While Galanis had temporarily sealed the spirits it controlled, it had only worked because those spirits still had plenty of strength. As far as Monica could glean from Ray and Raul, this ice spirit was almost weak to the point of dissipation. A seal wouldn’t do much to save him. At his master’s denial, Glenn put on a frustrated expression, then turned and ran back the way he’d come. Louis swore under his breath and cracked his knuckles. But then Raul raised a hand. “I’ll go check on him,” he said, before running after Glenn. Monica curled her hands into fists as she watched them go. I can’t let Glenn or Lord Cyril know who I really am… I need to stay here. It’s the right choice. And yet, her legs began to move. A shattering sound could be heard deep in Kelielinden Forest. The ice trapping Sezhdio had broken apart from within. A high spirit’s ice wasn’t easy for a mid-level spirit like Sezhdio to destroy. It was clear Ice Spirit had very little strength remaining. Sezhdio shook himself to fling off the remaining ice shards. “Damn you, Ice Spirit…,” he growled. Now free, he burst into a run. Even after all this, and despite his irritation, he felt no rage. His anger was reserved for humans. For years, those wretched humans had driven spirits from their homes. They acted like they were the rulers of the world. Some even thought to exploit them—like that man with the flute. Why shouldn’t Sezhdio resent them? Eventually, the wolflike spirit spotted two humans among the trees—one with silver hair, the other brownish-blond. They were the very boys he’d brought to the forest as offerings for Ice Spirit. He would capture them again, and this time, he would convince them to submit. Sezhdio concealed his presence and began to approach when he heard a faint, melodious voice. …Ice Spirit was singing. Romalia lay on the ground, his head resting on Cyril’s lap, as he weakly continued to sing. In addition to his arms, he had lost everything below his knees. Shards of mana dripped from the ends of his limbs. Between songs, Romalia told stories of his past. “One day, we were attacked by a dragon. I was separated from Shelgria and Alteria.” Shelgria had entrusted a message asking for help to the leaves. But Alteria and Romalia were weakened, nearly to the point of dissipation. Alteria rang her icy chimes, beseeching the spirit god for aid. “The spirit god heard Alteria’s chimes and bestowed her with protection and strength…” Strengthened by that blessing, Alteria escaped her predicament and rescued Shelgria. That was where the familiar legend ended, but Romalia’s story went on. “After that…many humans came to Alteria seeking to use her gift.” A man with a sick daughter begged her to share the spirit god’s blessing. A woman whose family was slaughtered by a dragon beseeched her to use her new strength to slay the foe. Romalia’s voice was tinged with sadness. “Humans who wanted to use the spirit god’s power for war tried to take Alteria prisoner…” The spirit’s youthful face twisted with pain and regret. “I created a blizzard to protect her… It froze all the humans trying to capture her…as well as innocent people living in a village nearby.” He might be weak now, but at full strength, Romalia had probably found it easy to bury a village under snow. He was a high spirit, after all. “Many humans shouted for help. And I buried their cries under the snow of my blizzard…” Romalia was a gentle spirit who wove lullabies into blizzards so that children wouldn’t fear the roaring snowstorms. But one of his own blizzards had lulled a whole village into eternal slumber. “Their lives, frozen under ice, became offerings. And that gave me even greater power…” Cyril remembered what Sezhdio had said. The best offering for an ice spirit was frozen life. But Romalia never asked for that… A small group of greedy humans had instigated a tragedy, and Romalia had gained power he didn’t wish for. Then the ice spirit had fallen into despair, and many years had passed. The spirit’s ice-blue eyes lost focus as he gazed up at Cyril. He could see them dulling and growing vacant. “I killed innocent humans and gained power from their lives… I can’t ask a human to save me now…” Cyril opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He wanted to reassure the spirit somehow, but he didn’t know what to say. It’s not your fault would have been trite; he couldn’t say that. Cyril was himself a human, after all. He couldn’t stop Romalia’s dissipation; he couldn’t even whisper a word of comfort. His ignorance and weakness frustrated him beyond belief. “…VP?” Glenn emerged from the trees. Behind him were the Witch of Thorns and the Silent Witch. Glenn frowned as the two Sages quietly observed the ice spirit. Cyril looked up at Raul. “Lord Witch of Thorns…would you share one of your roses with me?” Raul took a little seed out of his pocket and chanted. In his hand, a green bud sprouted, then grew, blooming into a deep scarlet rose. Then he took a pair of small pruning shears out of his pocket, snipped the flower off, and offered it to Cyril. “Will this work?” “…Yes. Thank you,” said Cyril hoarsely, placing the rose in his palm and chanting. This spell would freeze the rose. He focused, trying to keep the ice as clear as possible, not letting in the slightest impurity. Finally, once the rose was encased in ice, he gently placed it on the ice spirit’s chest. “This is all I can do… I’m sorry, Romalia.” Cyril could only apologize, crushed by his own weakness. The ice spirit’s youthful face relaxed. “It’s been…so long…since a human gave me a gift…” Romalia smiled. He hadn’t called the flower an offering, but a gift. When Monica heard Cyril call the vanishing ice spirit Romalia, she was quietly shocked. Romalia, one of the three spirits of winter, appeared in many legends. But she doubted his name and the stories about him had much to do with why Cyril and Glenn were so concerned. When she saw them both holding back tears, she understood. Lord Cyril and Glenn really want to save him. Monica was partial to numbers and formulae; magical beasts like spirits and dragons were outside her realm of interest. She’d saved the spirits under Galanis’s control from being used as a power source, but not out of kindness or a sense of justice. Even so… Cyril placed the frozen rose on the ice spirit’s chest, looking heartbroken. He wore gloves, but his fingers must have been freezing. Glenn’s teeth were clenched in anguish, but he never looked away from the ice spirit. He kept watch over him, fists balled at his sides, trembling. If there’s anything I can do… To revive a spirit on the verge of dissipation, you needed to get them somewhere they could rest for a long period with a steady supply of mana. None of these conditions was easy. You needed a facility like the ones at Minerva’s Mage Training Institute or the Royal Magic Research Institute—otherwise, it was impossible. The ice spirit before her eyes was about to vanish. There was no time to take him to either of those places. …I’m sorry for being so selfish. What Monica was about to do, she wasn’t doing for the ice spirit. Nor did she feel it was her responsibility as one of the Seven Sages. She was doing it for herself—so that Cyril and Glenn, who were so important to her, wouldn’t have to be sad. Monica quickly walked over to Cyril and the ice spirit. First, she touched the near-dead spirit with her fingertips. And then she silently cast a sealing barrier. The magecraft formula became a golden chain that looped itself around the spirit. This wasn’t a temporary spell—it was a permanent seal meant to hold for a long time. Placing a long-term seal on a high spirit was next to impossible, but this spirit was already weak to the point of dissipation, so it wasn’t all that difficult. “Lady Silent Witch?” Cyril’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at Monica with confusion. Too scared to return his gaze, she kept her head down and quietly continued her work. That will temporarily stop him from breaking down, but he won’t last long in this state… She needed somewhere to put him, somewhere he could rest and recover his mana. Right now, in this place, there was only one option, and only Monica had realized it. …I’m so sorry, Lord Cyril! Next, Monica touched the broach hanging from Cyril’s neck. It was a magical item meant to draw excess mana out of his body and expel it. In other words, whatever mana the gem absorbed from him would accumulate inside it. Maybe, if Romalia was allowed to rest there, he could avoid dissipation. Overwriting the formula of a functioning magical item required extremely advanced knowledge and skills. But Monica had seen the formula on Cyril’s broach soon after her arrival at Serendia when she’d stopped his mana from getting out of control. She’d even overwritten the protective formula herself. Careful not to negate the item’s original effects, Monica deployed a new magecraft formula. It resembled a ritual contract between a human and a spirit, but it was a little different. With a spirit contract, you had to verify each individual’s intent, then link the human, spirit, and stone of contract with a single magecraft formula. At this point, Monica could no longer verify the ice spirit’s intent, so she didn’t link Cyril and Romalia with a contract. She simply linked Romalia to the broach, using it as a stone of contract. What was left of the spirit’s body disappeared along with the icebound rose clasped to his chest. A few shards of mana remained where he’d been, glittering and sparkling, but after a moment, those vanished as well. “Lady Silent Witch!” exclaimed Cyril, confused at Romalia’s sudden disappearance. “What happened to him? Monica couldn’t answer his question; her voice would give her away. Oh, I know. I’ll write it on the ground… As she searched for a good tree branch to write with, Raul suddenly pounded his hand with a fist. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You had the ice spirit rest inside the broach. But the broach is a magical item, right? What’s it for, originally?” Cyril fingered the item. “It absorbs my mana and expels it. I have mana hyperabsorption syndrome…” “Oh! I get it. Romalia can recover using the mana you absorb! That’s amazing! It’s the perfect solution!” Thank goodness. Now I don’t have to explain it myself, thought Monica, softly breathing a sigh behind her veil. Glenn looked at her. “Huh? Wait, then you knew the vice president’s broach was a magical item? And that he had mana hyperabsorption syndrome?” Monica nearly sputtered with panic but quickly clasped a hand over her veil to stifle it. Glenn continued to stare at her, his face serious. “And you even rewrote the seal on a magical item you’d never seen before…” Monica began to tremble. Then a broad, earnest smile spread over Glenn’s face. “Man, the Seven Sages are crazy good!” “……” “Aw, you’re making me blush!” Monica silently deflated as Raul, who had done nothing, proceeded to blush for real. Well, um, whatever the case, I kept my identity secret… So that’s good… Yeah. Monica was privately relieved. Then Cyril grasped his broach and turned to face her. “Lady Silent Witch.” His voice was earnest, sincere, and filled with deep gratitude. But Monica couldn’t meet his gaze, and not because she was worried he might realize who she was… She didn’t want to see Cyril’s face as he thanked the Silent Witch. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saving Romalia.” She didn’t want to hear that. She wanted to hear Excellent work, Accountant Norton. Even though Monica Norton, the student council accountant, was not here. …How…utterly selfish of me. Nevertheless, when she saw Cyril stroking the broach with Romalia sealed inside and looking so happy, she felt a little giddy. In the end, she was glad she’d done what she could. As Cyril and Glenn celebrated Romalia clinging to life, and Monica looked at her feet and fidgeted, Raul took a step back and watched them. …That must be nice, he said to himself, channeling mana into what remained of the rose in his hand, causing it to wither. Suddenly, he heard someone mumbling from over his shoulder. “How conceited… Saving a spirit? They must be mad…” He turned around to find Ray’s purple hair poking out from behind a tree. He was staring this way. Evidently, he’d been watching the whole time. “I’m sure the Barrier Mage would say the same thing if he’d seen…” “Then we’ll just have to keep it a secret from the others, won’t we?” Raul said casually. Ray scowled. “…A Roseburg must understand how terrifying spirits are. We may be able to communicate, but we can never truly understand one another.” Ray was right. Raul had been raised in a prestigious magecraft family, and he’d been taught that spirits were frightening and repulsive. But Raul couldn’t fully agree. “He chose my rose as a gift,” he said. “And I was happy to give one to him. I think maybe that’s not so bad, you know?” Cyril and Glenn looked so dazzling to his eyes. They’d established such a natural bond with a spirit, felt sad when that spirit nearly dissipated, and then celebrated when he was saved. And if they can be sad for a spirit…then maybe they can be sad for someone like me, too. Raul was incredibly impressed by Monica’s actions. How many people would jump to Raul’s rescue if he were ever in a crisis like that? The Roseburgs and their Witch of Thorns and the Albrights and their Abyss Shaman were both famed and feared. Everyone treated them coldly, keeping a polite distance. Some didn’t even regard them as human. “I really hope we can be friends,” he said. “You think we could have a veggie party right now, or…?” “Ugh, but there’s still so much to clean up…,” mumbled Ray, looking fed up with everything. As Louis and Bradford entered Emanuel’s cabin, they sensed the Gem Mage stand up behind them and attempt to flee. The two Sages traded glances and silently agreed to leave the old man to his own devices. They hadn’t come here to take Emanuel captive. They couldn’t afford to reveal his crimes to the public. “What do you think Gem is gonna do now?” asked Bradford. “He can’t go crying to the duke after keeping the ancient magical item a secret, so…I think we can assume he’ll either retire or flee the kingdom.” And if he happened to boldly attend the next Seven Sages Conference, they could reevaluate then. Duke Clockford has all but lost the Gem Mage as a piece on his board. His next play will either be to send another supporter of the second prince into the Seven Sages or pull a current Sage out of the organization… Louis knew that the duke wanted to get the Silent Witch on his side. She’d slain the Cursed Dragon of Rehnberg alongside the second prince, after all. If that happened, the second prince’s faction would grow even more powerful. In Louis’s view, the second prince seemed to have won Monica over. And that meant there was a non-zero chance that she would join the duke. …And above all… Louis thought back to the battle moments ago. When the squad of magical armored soldiers commanded by Ray had barged in, Monica had said something. “Mister Louis! Magical armored soldiers!” The Gem Mage had only used the soldiers’ proper name after Monica. He hadn’t said it a single time before that, and even Louis hadn’t known what they were called. But Monica had known. Come to think of it, she’d been very confident about the technology using spirits as a power source. She must have a collaborator I don’t know about…and it seems she has no plans to tell me. The political situation could change drastically depending on which camp Monica allied herself with. For once, I find myself unable to read the Silent Witch’s moves. If he intended to have her continue guarding the second prince, he would be better off keeping her in the dark about certain things. If she sided with Felix, it could lead to one of the worst scenarios he could imagine. …Maybe it’s time to throw her off-balance a bit. Louis supported the first prince, but not because he necessarily wanted him to be king. He simply didn’t want Duke Clockford, who backed the second prince, to be allowed to have his way. The friendly first prince couldn’t oppose the wily duke, so that role fell to Louis. He’d have to be the one to outwit that man—and he’d have to do it very, very carefully.
Chapter 165
25 min read