Chapter 6

“Look straight ahead, or he’ll catch on to you,” Scarlett hissed. She craned her neck up at him. His masculine features and muscular build were set off by a black military uniform with a standing collar. In his hands, he held a bouquet of white lilies. When he saw Connie, he narrowed his eyes. “Sorry. You’re from the Maurice Orphanage?” he asked, studying the embroidered insignia on her habit. He spoke flatly, like someone used to giving orders. A chill ran down Connie’s spine. “…Yes.” “Brings back memories. My wife took me there a few times. I don’t believe I’ve met you before, though.” “My name is Lettie. I’ve only just begun working there.” “Is that so? By the way, there was a redheaded boy I often used to play with there. George, I think it was. How is he?” How am I supposed to know?! Of course, she couldn’t say that, so she paused for a moment to take in his words, then hesitantly replied. “O-of course he…” “Wait a second. He’s talking about the orphanage we just visited? George had brown hair. Tony was the red-haired one in that age group,” Scarlett interjected. Connie glanced at her. Unlike her usual mocking expression, her face was serious at the moment. Strangely enough, as Connie stared into her bottomless amethyst eyes, the wild beating of her heart slowed, and she regained her composure. “…Oh, you must mean Tony. We also have a boy named George, but his hair is nearly black.” Randolph blinked in surprise. “Ah, of course, Tony. Pardon me.” “We all make mistakes. Well, I’d better be getting back…” She started toward the door, but as she passed Randolph, he stopped her. “It’s not safe to be out on the streets alone, Sister. If you don’t mind, I’ll accompany you to the orphanage.” “—Oh, you d-don’t need to do that! I have several stops to make, and it’s not very far anyhow! I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I’ll be fine. Good-bye!” Before reaching for the door, she turned toward him, lifted the skirts of her habit, and curtsied. Then she hurried out of the chapel. Gradually picking up speed until she was running almost as fast as possible, she crossed through the gardens and flew out the gate without so much as a glance at the guardhouse. She slipped down a vacant alley and rested one hand on the hedge, letting out a long breath. “That was terrifying! What a frightening man! You don’t think he saw through me, do you?” “I’m not sure. At least, I don’t think you left any tracks for him to follow…” Scarlett looked up at the Orlamunde residence. “But that man has always had a strangely sharp nose for trouble.” The altar held a bouquet of baby’s breath and a bundle of letters written in childish hands. Randolph set his own bouquet of flowers next to them and, without offering a prayer, turned on his heel. As he did, he sensed something odd about the picture on the wall. Staring at it, he noticed it was very slightly off-kilter. As if someone had put it back up in a hurry. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and took it down. Nothing looked unusual about the wall behind it. Which meant… He turned the picture around. As he suspected, he could see that something had been glued to the right-hand corner, perhaps about the size of a letter. The small traces of paper still stuck to the glue were not discolored, which suggested the object had been removed very recently. And somewhat forcibly. He looked down at the floor. When he found a shred of paper the size of a fingernail clipping, he knit his brow and sighed softly. “You say a nun was there?” asked Kyle Hughes, a subordinate of Randolph’s, when he returned to the drawing room of the main house. His tone was as casual as his appearance. Like Randolph, he was wearing a military uniform, but he had unbuttoned the stiff collar just enough to look relaxed without being uncouth. “She was dressed like one, at least,” Randolph said bluntly, sitting down on a sofa. It seemed the Marchioness of Orlamunde still hadn’t made an appearance. “What do you mean?” “Have you ever met a nun with perfect pronunciation and not a blemish on her hands, who curtsies like a lady when she says good-bye?” “…I see your point.” Rudely resting his elbows on the table, Kyle bit into a cookie that had been set out for guests. “Everything’s a mess these days, what with the incident at the Grand Merillian the other night and all.” “…Speaking of which, have you found out anything about the girl who broke off her engagement?” When he first heard about the incident, Randolph hadn’t been very interested, so he hadn’t looked into it. But he figured that Kyle, who liked gossip, would know something. As predicted, Kyle grinned. “Don’t be shocked—but it was the Grail girl.” “Grail? Those beacons of sincerity?” Randolph knit his brow at this unexpected information. Kyle laughed dryly. “Yes, the ever-sincere Grails.” The family were typical nobles, known to anyone in the higher social circles. “Have you ever met her?” “We’ve never spoken, but I’ve seen her a few times.” “Hazelnut hair and green eyes, was it?” “Yes—have you met her yourself?” Randolph gazed out the window. The drawing room was the pride of the Orlamunde house, with a row of tall, thin windows overlooking the gardens. He could glimpse the stone chapel through the trees. “I just did.” The maid outfit Connie had hidden in the alley was still right where she’d left it. She asked Scarlett to keep watch for her, then quickly changed back into it in the shade of a tree. Despite the early-summer sun, she shivered at the touch of the cold, wet fabric. Scarlett told her to throw away the nun’s habit, but Connie hesitated to be so callous toward the goodness of the orphanage staff. All the same, she couldn’t return it in person wearing her disguise. As a last resort, she decided to leave it at the door along with money to have it washed. “…Miss, what are you doing?” As Connie was attempting to squeeze the habit between the heavy iron bars of the gate, unusual for an orphanage, she heard someone calling her. She turned around to see a group of familiar faces. They were the older boys who had written letters for Lily at the orphanage. From the trowels and hammers in their hands, she guessed they were returning from apprenticeships at some factory or another. Their expressions struck her as odd. All of them looked frightened. They were afraid—of Connie? She remembered that they had had the same look earlier that day. When Connie was asking the younger children about Lily, they had clearly looked nervous. What could they be worried about? A boy with fiery red hair took a step forward, as if to guard his companions. He glared at her, his expression intentionally stiff. “Kiriki kirikuku.” Connie could see that the children were watching her with bated breath. The words must have some important meaning for them. Connie panicked. She had no idea what they meant. “Ki, kirikuki?” Was it a foreign language? Could they tell she was flustered? Gradually, the tension lightened until finally the children began exchanging relieved looks. “I told you so!” “Tony’s just a worrywart.” “Shut up, who cares?” they said, jostling one another. One, a boy with black hair, ran over to Connie. “Miss, did you give our letters to Miss Lily?” She nodded, and the boy smiled. She wondered if she had imagined the tension of a moment earlier. Connie smiled back. “Hey, what was that you said a minute ago?” she asked the red-haired boy, who was scratching his head. He hesitated for a moment, then looked her straight in the eye and said softly, “…A spell.” “A spell?!” That sounded scary. Did kids these days cast spells or something? “Yes. It’s supposed to show you who the bad guys are. Miss Lily taught it to us.” Connie gasped, then blinked slowly. “…When?” “Before she died.” The boy with red hair—Tony—looked like he didn’t quite know what to say. “Miss Lily said that if something happened to her, we should say the spell to anyone who came around asking about her.” Midday was long past, and the crimson sun was sinking low in the sky. “And she said if they reacted even a tiny bit, then that meant they were very bad people.” Saint Mark’s Bell tolled in the distance, signaling the closing of the palace gates. It would take a while before the area got dark. The half circle of the sun was directly behind Connie and the kids. In a while, the lengthening shadows would melt into darkness. Night was coming. When Tony spoke again, he looked as if he was going to cry. “She said if that happened, I was supposed to take everyone and run away.” Marta looked quite surprised to see Connie return in wet maid’s clothing. Connie said she’d fallen in the road, but she doubted that Marta believed her. She sensed that Marta wanted to ask her something, but she wouldn’t have been able to answer her if she had. From start to finish, not one of Constance Grail’s actions that day had been sincere. She went silently to her room. For some reason, she was utterly exhausted. She still had the envelope with her. Scarlett, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. “Let’s open it.” Connie nodded. By this point, she wasn’t about to insist that it was insincere to read other people’s letters. As she opened the seal, she glimpsed something gray. A key. It was entirely utilitarian, without a single decoration. The top part was round, with a hole in the middle, and the end was jagged like a piece of a gear. “There’s something else inside,” Scarlett said. Connie turned the envelope upside down. Something white fluttered onto the floor. A scrap of paper. Small letters were printed on it, as if it had been torn from a book. Several words had also been written on the paper with a pen. Connie squinted. The letters were sloppy, as if they’d been written in a hurry. In places they were blurry, but she could just barely make out the words. This was the sole clue Lily Orlamunde had left behind. It consisted of a single sentence. Destroy the Holy Grail of Eris. “The Holy Grail of Eris…?” Connie’s soft voice faded into the dimness of her room.