Heroine? Saint? No I'm an All-Works Maid (And Proud of It)! Vol 3
Tabel of Contents
Chapter 5: Forum of
Foreboding
Chapter 6: Shaking Shell,
Shaking Tail
Chapter 7: And Rook, You
Shall Be
Chapter 8: Camping with
the Works
Chapter 10: The County
and Its People
Chapter 12: The Maid Who
Knew No Fear
Chapter 13: The Maid Who
Learned Fear
Chapter 14: Welcome Home
for Now
Chapter 15: Melody’s
Prohibition Declaration
Chapter 16: Luciana Does
the Rounds
Chapter 17: A Maid’s
Midnight Mission
Chapter 18: A Lady’s
Liability
Chapter 20: Pup Marks the
Spot: Garmr of the Dark
Chapter 21: Maid Magic
Masterwork: The Silvershine Raiment
Bonus Story: They Scream
for Ice Cream
Prologue
MIDSUMMER ARRIVED. THE
FIFTH OF August, to be exact.
In north central Theolas,
the humble House Rudleberg demesne occupied a modest stretch of land. Said demesne had shrunk
quite considerably after a blunderous lordship of historical proportions two
generations prior left behind naught but the scraps of past failures. This shameful episode
would constitute the eponymous beginning of the infamous Ignobles, a rather
artless moniker whose stench seemed impossible to scrub off.
Even years later, with the
last of their debts finally remunerated, and at the cusp of freeing themselves
from the scorn they had so long endured, fate still seemed intent on keeping
the Rudlebergs down. A bad harvest only a year before had forced the count’s hand, and what
finances they might have otherwise recouped through taxes and the like had to
be sacrificed for the well-being of their subjects.
The lord’s selfless
leadership did not go unnoticed by the crown, however. Thus it was that the
current Count Rudleberg secured a position at the prestigious Royal Chancery. How fickle a thing
fortune is, that ostensibly minor acts can have sweeping and unknowable
consequences upon the shores of an invisible future.
It wasn’t long before
their capital estate resurfaced after having been forgotten for some years. There waited the spiteful
side of fate, as the Rudlebergs ignorantly sent their only daughter to occupy a
manor of ghosts and cobwebs. But it was again not long
before the tides turned once more and the mad maid herself entered the scene,
working magic and miracles and everything in between.
At that point, even Lady
Luck had to wonder how much of anything was her doing.
But those at the
Rudlebergs’ home estate knew none of this. Not yet. It was the fifth of August, a new day, a long day with many duties to
attend and not a moment to spare for the ridiculous black-and-white notions of
a fanatical zealot.
In the office sat Hubert
Rudleberg, younger brother of Count Hughes, similar in appearance but not at
all in build. At thirty-two, he was the current acting bailiff of the house’s
demesne.
In contrast to Count
Hughes’s slender-yet-handsome physique, Hubert Rudleberg was a figure of
rippling, well-maintained muscle. The overalls dangling
over a plain, collared shirt perhaps spoke to what had sculpted such a
physique. Indeed,
he looked more like a farmhand than an aristocrat.
Two other men occupied
the office with him: Ryan, the manservant, and Dyrule, the guard. Both were abandoning
their usual duties and instead battling mountains of paperwork atop a pair of
impromptu desks. Though the Rudlebergs lorded over only three small villages, managing
them all at once was not a task one could handle alone.
Hubert extended a bundle
of papers to Dyrule. “Could you see that the mayor of Durnan Village to the southwest
receives these?”
“My lord, my duty is to
guard you.”
“Making you far more
suited to enduring the blazing sun than poor Ryan. The heat’ll do him in like
last year’s crops.”
“That’s in poor taste, my
lord,” Ryan, the fifty-nine-year-old butler, chided. “I’ve still some fire
left in these old bones.”
Ryan was spritely for his
age, that was true. Though not spritely enough to sway Hubert from his decision.
Dyrule, for his part,
understood this. His misgivings were only performative.
“As you wish,” the guard
replied reluctantly. “I would, however, deign to remind you to not leave the estate before
I return.”
“I expect I’ll be back in
time for lunch.”
“Understood. Safe travels.”
Dyrule exited the office,
disgruntled, and not performatively so. The estate owned no
horses, so he would have to make the trek on foot. The journey would take
two hours at a comfortable pace, one at a jog. All told, it would be at
least a several-hour endeavor.
After watching his
companion’s departure through the window, Hubert returned to his work.
For two hours, only the
scratching of pens disturbed the silence in the office. At that point, however,
the men began to crack.
“Curse this blighted
busywork,” Hubert snapped. “What I would give to be out in the fields.”
It should have come as
little surprise that Hubert belonged to the wilderness. He was a learned man, to
be sure, given his proficiency with a pen, but his true love lay out there with
the sun and the weeds and the tilled soil.
His passion began some
fifteen years ago. Out of love and respect for his brother, Hubert sought a means to aid
Hughes in the recovery of their family’s countship and thus discovered
agriculture. Lacking many notable commodities, the Rudlebergs’ lands relied on
simple crops like wheat and other vegetables. Hubert’s logic was that a
lord ought to facilitate the ways of the people as they were, as opposed to
forcing innovation on them.
To Hubert, happiness
meant straining muscles and physical labor in the sun. It was a straw hat, a
sweat-soaked towel, and the sound of a hoe against dirt. He could only stomach the
endless hours of pen and parchment if they served that end. But, oh, how he ached to
put such work aside so he could see to his garden behind the estate. At times, he was known to
tour the villages and assist with other people’s farms as well.
I yearn for the earth, he lamented silently. Though the sight of him
face down against his desk conveyed the message loudly enough.
“As soon as we finish
here, milord, you’ll have the entire afternoon,” Ryan said.
“If we finish…” Hubert groaned.
The work was not
comically excessive by any means, but certainly enough to overwhelm just two
men. And
this was for only three villages. Hubert imagined for a
moment how busy things must have been in their house’s heyday and shuddered.
A knock came at the door. “It’s Aasha. I’ve
brought tea.”
“Come in,” Hubert said. “Thank
you.”
One of the estate’s three
maids entered. An unmarried woman of twenty-eight, Aasha had a willowy figure and red
hair tied back cleanly in one big braid.
Pushing the tea cart
ahead of her, Aasha searched the room for something but didn’t seem to find it.
“Has Dyrule gone
somewhere?”
“I sent him to Durnan on
an errand,” Hubert said.
“I
see. Just two
cups then, milord?”
“That’ll be perfect, thank
you.”
Aasha filled two cups
with brown-black tea, setting aside a lonely third. When she was done, she
promptly left.
Hubert sipped. “Poor girl tries her best to make this rubbish drinkable. We really ought to look
into a better-quality product.”
House Rudleberg’s tea of
choice, Belleschwit, was the lowest of the low as far as teas nobility dared
let past their lips went. So low was it that even petty nobility hesitated to stoop to its level.
The
Rudlebergs, however, despite its objective repulsiveness, had adapted. Through years of trial
and error, they had developed a very particular way of brewing it so as to make
even the infamous Belleschwit palatable. Somewhat.
“You’d have my full
support,” Hubert chuckled.
The men set about their
work yet again, and an hour soon flew by.
Hubert sighed. “I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Two more hours should do
it, I surmise,” Ryan said.
“Two?
Cutting it a
mite close, then.”
“Something you intend to…? Ah,
yes. Lady Luciana’s
return.”
“I’d been hoping I could
greet her without a mountainous paperwork backdrop. And, if I may be so
greedy, see to my crops.”
Lady Luciana Rudleberg,
Hubert’s niece, was Hughes’s first and only daughter. She currently attended
Royal Academy, but August marked the beginning of the school’s yearly summer
recess. A
few days ago, a letter arrived announcing Luciana’s planned return. It was about a five-day
journey from the academy, and it was now the fifth of the month. Heaven willing, they
could expect her that very afternoon.
“Oh, whatever will we do
together?” Hubert
giggled like a schoolgirl. “Perhaps she’d take to my fields.”
“You’ll take the good
lady to no such place.” Ryan’s eyes narrowed at Hubert.
“I-I know that.” Hubert
flinched. “I
was only joking, of course.”
“Lord Hubert, Master
Ryan,” a man said as he entered the office. “Lullia says to come to
the dining hall. Lunch
is almost ready.”
“Schue,” Ryan scolded,
“how many times have I told you to knock? Your etiquette remains
wanting.”
“Oh, shoot, that’s right! So
sorry!”
The boy blanched under
his sun-kissed skin. Schue was a boy of fifteen, with thick, bright yellow hair that paired
beautifully with his golden eyes, but he was very much still in training. His manners
notwithstanding, the boy was the epitome of handsomeness: sharp, chiseled
features and a lean figure not too slim yet not too bulky. He would have been a born
lady-killer.
Would have been.
His expression softened
like pudding. “Mira made this super cold pasta! Isn’t that nice? Summer’s just so hot! We don’t have ice, so she
chilled the noodles in well water, but it’s got to be good! I think so, at least!”
It was a shame that all his sophisticated charms had to go to waste on
such simple mannerisms.
It’s truly impressive
just how poorly he wears that smile of his. A little stoicism would
go a long way with the ladies, I think. Hubert recalled telling
the boy as much, though Schue had rebuked the idea on the grounds of his
“image” or some such. Granted, I suppose this
has its charms as well. Not the kind women would seek out, but charms nonetheless.
It took some sort of
talent to be so handsome yet so simultaneously graceless. At any rate, Hubert found
his cheery demeanor endearing. He liked the boy.
It would be an awfully
stuffy estate without young folk to liven it up, the bailiff thought. I’m glad we took him in.
This last spring, during
a survey of their northernmost village, Tenon, Hubert found Schue. Wherever the boy had
absconded from, Hubert couldn’t very well have left him to the elements on the
side of the road, and so he gave the boy a place at the estate as a
valet-in-training, a role Schue excelled in. Manners came slowly to
him, but he excelled with his hands, including, to his host’s joy, farmwork.
There was just one fly in
the ointment.
“Lord Hubert, you said
your niece is coming home today? I can’t wait to meet her! I hope she’s as pretty as
you say.”
He meant no harm, to be sure.
He just
seemed compelled to profess his love for every woman he met who struck his
fancy—with each attempt ending in disaster, of course. The strangest part,
though, was how he ended up close friends with all of them even after the
rejection.
Over the last four
months, Schue had courted just about every girl his age in every village, to no
avail. Hubert
admired the boy’s persistence and mental fortitude. He admired his methods less
so, but he had to give credit where it was due.
“I hope you’ve seen to
the silverware as I instructed,” the butler chimed in.
“Yes, Master Ryan! It’s ready for your review.”
“Very good. I’ll see to that after lunch.”
The Rudlebergs owned very
little, having sold off most of their belongings to pay off their generational
debts, but they did retain some genuine silverware. Not for use, granted, but
for teaching new hires how to polish precious metals. Ryan was a thorough
teacher and insisted that a servant who could not maintain a proper shine was
no servant at all. This lesson served as the first step on a long journey toward becoming
a proper valet.
The gravity of this
weighed debatably on the hyperactive boy’s mind.
“Smells delicious,
Lullia,” Hubert said as he entered the dining hall.
“It’ll just be a moment,
milord. Please, take a
seat. Mira,
bring Lord Hubert a glass of water.”
A stout woman of
forty-nine with plain brown hair tied neatly out of her face toiled busily in
the kitchen. She was Lullia, the estate’s housekeeper. Meanwhile, a more slender
maid with pale green hair hurried over with her lord’s beverage. Mira was a few years
Lullia’s junior at forty-four. Aasha busied herself
setting the table.
“My apologies for the
wait, milord,” the head maid said. “This afternoon’s menu is
a tad unique, but Schue insisted.”
“The boy crowed and
crowed about how we ought to have something to stave off the summer heat. He eventually fixed on the
idea of cold soup and noodles, but that’s an entirely new flavor profile for
me. It took
some work to figure out the right seasonings, I’ll tell you that.” Lullia set a plate in
front of her lord, evidently satisfied with the end result of this experiment.
The Rudlebergs were
unique in many ways, not least of all their dining practices. Servant and master shared
a table in their estate, though not for any particularly gregarious reason. Practically speaking,
with the meager size of their retinue, it made little sense to go to the
trouble of splitting the household and creating extra work. Their capital estate
necessitated a higher standard of etiquette, including meals taken in the
traditional manner. A certain one-maid-army had more than a little to do with enabling
that.
Soon, a plate of chilled
pasta sat before every chair at the table. Schue’s eyes sparkled
with pride for his brainchild.
“This looks amazing, Lullia!” he gushed.
The housekeeper giggled. “I do think I outdid myself. Please, Lord Hubert.”
“Should we not wait on
Dyrule?” Aasha asked
timidly.
“Who knows when he’ll be
back?” Hubert said. “And it would be an
insult to Lullia’s efforts to let her creation turn lukewarm, wouldn’t it? I say we dig in. Shall we, everyone?”
It was a normal lunch on
a normal day. A day fortune happened to set its fickle eyes on.
One can never truly know
the tides of fate, which actions will cause which waves. Just as the Rudleberg
household could have never known the danger that threatened their lives at that
very moment.
Chapter 1:
Micah Want Magic!
IT HAPPENED NOT LONG AFTER THE JEALOUS Witch Incident. Luciana was studying in
her dorm room for the semester exams coming up in just three days.
“There.
I’d call
that a hard day’s work,” the lady sighed. She wasn’t worried. She’d been reviewing
every single day and knew the material front to back.
She reached up to
stretch, but a shrill, piercing scream interrupted her.
The
kitchen, she surmised. It came from the kitchen. Melody and Micah would be
there preparing dinner by this hour. That sounded like Micah. Melody’s more than
capable of keeping her safe, but you don’t shout like that unless something’s
really wrong!
“It’s not true! Say
it isn’t so!” came another glass-shattering howl. That cry came from the
soul itself and carried a poignant, vivid kind of pain born only from the
bleakest pits of despair.
Luciana gritted her teeth
and shouted, “Is everything okay, you two?! What happ…ened.”
When she burst into the
kitchen, her panic instantly evaporated.
“What, um… What happened
here?”
Micah leaned over the
counter, her head buried against her arms, her whole body trembling. Melody was pacing and
flustered and falling into a panic of her own while trying to calm her pupil. Whatever this was, it
most certainly did not constitute an emergency. No intruders. No fires. The kitchen was but a kitchen.
“Um, care to explain,
Melody?” Luciana asked
again.
“Oh, my lady. Yes, well, it’s really nothing serious—”
“What about this isn’t
serious, Miss Melody?!” Micah interjected, her head shooting up. Tears wobbled in her eyes.
Melody tried and failed
to answer.
“Could someone maybe fill
me in?” Luciana urged.
“I’m a failure!” Micah
wailed. “A nothing! I can’t be magicless! I can’t!”
Luciana’s confusion only
deepened. “I’m sorry,
what?”
“Light the stove, would
you, Micah?”
A pot of water sat
waiting on the cookstove. Micah dutifully went to set the stove alight and get the water boiling,
but with what? Flint and
steel? Friction? As a matter of fact, this
world used matches. Plain
matches. By
some miracle, the Rudlebergs were not so poor as to forgo this particular
luxury.
“Let’s see, where’d we
put those… Hm. Miss Melody, I think we’re out of matches.”
“Oh? I’ll make a note to stock
more later.”
“But what do we do now? Should I go buy some?”
“No, no, we mustn’t delay
dinner. Allow me. Kindle—Acce.”
A little flame flared to
life on Melody’s fingertip. At her behest, it
flickered into the stove, setting it alight. Smoke slithered between
the cracks of the smoldering firewood.
“Wow,” Micah breathed. “You’re like an old witch.”
“Oh,
no! I didn’t mean
like that! You
just have an, er, old soul! That’s
it!”
Is that a compliment? Melody wondered.
“I meant it in a good way! Really!”
Micah’s mind wandered
back to Japan, where she’d grown up with a number of cartoon spell casters who
were typically depicted as old and wizened. Godmothers, magical
fairies on a quest to awaken a sleeping princess, genies trapped in lamps…
Which was to say that Micah saw in Melody something extraordinary. Cartoonish, perhaps, in
the way she could make even the most mundane actions appear larger than life,
but extraordinary nonetheless.
It was truly frightening,
the things she could do. The stuff of nightmares, that teenage girl.
Man, I wish I could use
magic like that, Micah mused. Wait, I can! Magic’s a thing in this
world!
Three months had passed
in a flash since Micah was reborn. They’d been hectic months
filled with adjustment and surprises, not least of all a heroine far too
engrossed in playing maid to do her world-saving duties. It was a long time
coming, but Micah had at last realized she could live out all her fantastical
dreams here.
“Magic?
You want to
learn to cast spells?”
“Yes, Miss Melody. If something like this ever happens again, I might actually be able to
do something about it!”
“Well, I do make an
effort to use matches before resorting to magic, but you have a point.”
“Wait, you do? You
use matches?”
“I’d lose my touch awfully
fast if I relied on waving my hand to do everything. A maid must be a master of
many techniques, so magic to me is an emergency measure only.”
Micah nodded in
understanding. In hindsight, she hadn’t seen Melody cast anything especially flashy
since her first day on the job. When she did brandish the
occasional spell, it was always a modest thing, unlike her material maidly
mastery, which was anything but modest.
Miss Melody’s not stupid
or anything. She’s
got common sense. So how come she’s totally spacey when it comes to magic?
Micah’s eye twitched. These were headaches for
another day. “Anyway, point is, I want to learn how to use magic!”
“Right, well…” Melody
thought for a moment, then glanced at the crackling flames in the stove. She nodded. “A watched pot never
boils, as they say. We don’t have time for a real lesson, but I suppose I could take a
quick measure of your mana.”
“Yes!
Thank you,
thank you, Miss Melody!”
They found chairs and sat
facing one another, then took each other’s hands. Melody probed for energy
just like she’d done with Luciana.
Micah indulged in the
view as Melody shut her eyes and worked. She waited patiently for
the results with a big, goofy grin. It wouldn’t be long until
she, too, would be snapping sparks and lighting stoves all on her own.
I’d
settle for little water trickles like Luciana, she thought, but it
would be so cool to be able to throw out spells like Melody does. Not
that I’m getting my hopes up. These hopes? Super low. Totally realistic. She found herself
envisioning Rook—the new, grown-up version of Bjork. His existence was a
curious one. Just like in the game, the Dark One’s power had been expelled from
within him, and yet the man who remained was entirely different from the one in
the original story.
People liked him because
he was this small, angry hater, but now he’s the strong, silent type. Wonder how the fans would
react to that. Micah self-corrected, lest
her thoughts wander too far. Ah well. Things
worked out. I don’t need that level of power or
anything, but man, it’d be so cool if I could cast fireballs like in the game!
Her modest hopes began to swell. She’d been reincarnated,
after all, and that came with some genre implications. I never met any gods or
anything, but what if I got put in this world with super overpowered skills? Maybe? Possibly?
Could’ve happened! Gosh, what if I end up
swooping in and taking the heroine’s role? Little ol’ me? Yeah,
right!
Micah may have
technically lived a long life into her sixties, but mentally she was still a
junior high school student. Perhaps there would come a time when her memories returned to her and
she looked back on her silly fantasies with regret, but that time was not now. So fantasize she did.
Suddenly, Melody opened
her eyes. “I…don’t
know what to say,” she murmured.
Micah sat up straighter. What? Wait. No way. Is it happening?
Her time was now. Her star had risen, and her power fantasy would soon begin.
Melody released her
hands, sighed, and looked Micah in the eye. “I want you to stay calm
when I tell you what I’m about to tell you, Micah.”
This sounds serious. I can’t believe it. I’m really gonna be an
all-powerful witch just like Melo—
“I didn’t sense a trace
of magic in you.”
“You… What?” Micah’s brain stopped working for a moment. “Not… Not a trace? As in nothing? No mana at all?”
“I’m sorry, Micah. There’s
nothing. I’m
afraid you’ve no aptitude for casting spells whatsoever.”
More silence. The young maid’s mouth hung open like a dead fish’s, her eyes deader
still.
And then the screaming
began, and Luciana, and everyone else, got up to speed.
“Really?”
Luciana
replied at the end of the story. “Is that all it—er, I’m
so sorry to hear that, Micah.”
Micah, now a sobbing
mess, threw herself into her lady’s arms. Luciana accepted this,
comforting her by gently stroking her hair like a big sister with her younger
sibling. Not
at all out of guilt for very nearly having made light of her plight.
“D-don’t be sad, Micah,”
Melody joined in. “You don’t need magic to be a great maid. I promise I’ll teach you
everything I know, and by the end you won’t even care anymore! Cheer up!”
“Miss Melody…you’re not
helping,” Micah sobbed.
“I’m sorry, Melody. I think she’s right,”
Luciana agreed.
It was after dinner, and
she really ought to have been in bed, but Melody was instead cleaning in the
kitchen. A sigh left
her lips.
“Something the matter,
Gentlesister?” Serena said as she accompanied her.
“There was a bit of a fuss
with Micah yesterday.”
“Ah, the reading. When you learned she had no mana?”
“She took it awfully
hard, and she still seemed down today. I haven’t seen her once
since we arrived. I wonder if I’ve upset her.”
Melody couldn’t forget
the sullen expression on Micah’s face or the sad, meager bites of food she’d
taken during dinner last night. But then again, she had eaten. Asked for seconds, even.
Melody shook her head. She knew sad when she saw
it, and this was downright downtrodden!
“She’s visiting the
orphanage, Gentlesister.”
“Micah has the day off
tomorrow, so she and Rook went to visit her orphanage. I’ve been told they’re
spending the night.”
“O-oh.
Oh, I see. Well. That’s good then.” Melody scratched her quickly reddening cheek. Her underling’s state had
affected her own more than she’d expected. How could the world’s
future most perfect maid forget her own colleague’s work schedule?
Serena grinned like an
old Greek bust, presumably in amusement, but her eyes were cold as marble.
“I believe you were scheduled for a day
off as well,” she said. “Curious that you’re still here.”
“I
was? O-oh.” Melody dropped her gaze. “Are you sure?”
Serena continued boring
into her creator. “You’re free to do what you will with your leisure time, but I must
warn you that overworking yourself makes for an unhealthy environment for those
around you. Let’s exercise some restraint, shall we?”
“Y-yes.
Of course. Sorry. I
will.”
Serena scares me sometimes, Melody thought. In a nostalgic sort of way…
Her mother, Selena, would
often smile like that when she ran short on patience, and Serena was her
spitting image. She didn’t know how the living doll could embody her mother’s spirit so
perfectly. Perhaps
Melody’s memories and feelings had had something to do with it. Regardless, there were
moments when she could hardly tell the two of them apart.
I could have lived
without her taking after that particular quirk.
After memories of her past
life returned to her at the tender age of six, Melody assumed her role as the
greatest prodigy to ever live, but that did not always translate to being the
greatest child. Her mother had bequeathed her a healthy number of tongue-lashings for
her continued reflection. More than once, Melody had stayed out until the wee hours of the
morning training for her dream of becoming a maid. One time, she’d nearly
tripped because she couldn’t keep her eyes off of a passing maid and played it
off with a series of athletic somersaults that resulted in a shower of
applause.
Mother did not find it
quite as impressive as the townsfolk. Smiled like an angel, but
deep down… I’m sensing the same energy from Serena right now.
How was it that such a
gentle expression could convey such anger and elicit such fear?
“E-exercise restraint, ma’am!
I’m sorry, ma’am! The warning has been duly
noted!”
So shaken was Melody that
she lacked the wherewithal to notice the subtle motherliness infusing Serena’s
tone. Better
to bow and admit her wrongdoing than to test her. Of course, such apologies
were often insincere, with no intention to follow through on them. Any modern Earthling could
have poked holes in Melody’s contriteness.
“I’ll hold you to that,
Gentlesister.” Serena shook her head wearily. “Returning to Micah, if
her lack of talent is weighing on her, why not compensate for it with some kind
of magical implement?”
“I did consider that.” Melody went back to cleaning. Much faster and with a
little more urgency this time.
“It just seemed a little
vapid.”
“Well, right now she has
to use matches to start fires. If I give her a magic tool
that does it for her, I’ve essentially replaced matches with a lighter.”
Many items, artifacts,
implements, and tools in this world relied on magic to function. One such example was the
flushable toilets that seemed to rid themselves of and purify waste all on
their own without plumbing. But did that make every
layman who flushed a toilet a mage? Melody certainly didn’t
think so, especially since many of these magic items were, to her, things
anyone in Japan could buy at a corner shop or hardware store.
“The difference, I think,
is intent,” Melody said. “What makes magic so wonderful is the act of manifesting your own thoughts and feelings
through your own mana. I still remember the
first spell I cast. The thrill and excitement of inventing all kinds of maid magic. Practicing. A tool that does all that
for you just doesn’t feel the same.”
“You make a fair point,
Gentlesister. I was born with magic, so you speak from experience I lack.”
“Well, you were made with magic, so…” Melody trailed off.
“Made with magic,” Melody
muttered, too quiet for Serena to make out. “Artificially…”
“Serena, you can use magic
at will, right?”
“Y-yes.
As you
said, you fashioned me such that I could.”
“So you can detect it. You can sense the mana
inside you and manipulate it.”
“Naturally. I wouldn’t be much of a mage if I couldn’t.”
Wherever is she going with
this? the doll wondered.
Melody continued: “You
might say you’re a kind of magical implement yourself, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose you could. A unique one, given I’ve
free will and a personality, but the logic is sound. Why do you ask all this?”
“Right.
You’re
technically a magic item, but you can sense and use magic like a human. And that must mean… Yes,
I think it does!”
Serena flinched as
Melody’s voice rose in excitement. “What does it mean?”
“No time for dawdling. Let’s hurry and finish this
up, Serena! We have work
to do!”
Melody kicked it into high
gear, suddenly cleaning at mach speed as if she were the doll and her key had
just been wound. And
all without magic. Nightmarish.
“What in the world’s
gotten into her this time?” Serena said to herself. “Nothing outlandish, I hope.”
The concept of
foreshadowing did not seem immediately relevant to her.
“Serena, I’m back! Sorry for leaving you with the rest of the work.”
“You
are supposed to be off right
now. So where did you
go? What were you
doing?”
Melody giggled ominously. “I went to get this.” She placed a basket on
the kitchen counter and tipped it over to let its contents spill out.
“They’re…stones,” Serena
said. “Dull stones. Wait, no. They’re faded, but this
is silver.”
Ten palm-sized chunks of
metal littered the countertop, dull and unpolished.
“Where did you find these?” Serena asked.
“Remember where you first
met Rook? You do, don’t
you?”
“In the woods you frequent. But what was refined
silver doing in a place like that?”
Such a material
constituted the pedestal that had once sheathed the blade that held the Dark
One captive. After Melody sapped it of power to use as Serena’s heart, the pedestal,
left there by the Saint before Melody, crumbled into rubble.
“I can’t believe I didn’t
notice at the time.” Serena
cocked her head. “So what do you intend to do with these?”
Melody chuckled and held
up one of the chunks of silver. “We’re going to make a
mage out of Micah!”
Several hours past
midnight, moonlight spilled over the estate’s courtyard.
Melody walked to the
courtyard’s center. Ten silver nuggets encircled her at even intervals. Serena watched from a
little ways away.
Melody shut her eyes. “Annerire—release.”
She removed her cap, and
her hair tumbled free, long, silky strands of black billowing into silver as if
shedding their color. Color that, in truth, did not actually belong to them.
When she opened her eyes,
pools of lapis lazuli replaced the usual dark voids.
Delicate work, she thought. I can’t risk other spells
interfering.
“Whenever you’re ready,
Gentlesister,” Serena said.
Eyes closed again, Melody
focused, and as she did, silver energy emanated from her. She raised her hands, as
if in offering to the moon hanging high above. The stones rose and took
on the same argent hue as the energy suffusing the courtyard.
And then they began to
revolve.
Melody’s hands glided
down and out to the side, spreading wide. She began to sing, then
to dance at the center of that miniature solar system. Gently. Wordless lyrics, a simple
yet musical scale, notes ascending and descending with the twinkling of the
stars transformed the garden. Her arms did not swing
but drifted through the air. Her feet did not step but
floated. There,
in the light of the moon, stood not a maid but a silver goddess.
The stones turned and
spun about her in time, glimmering less and less until the ten nuggets melted
away entirely. But the silver remained, and it continued to dance with the star at the
center of the courtyard, melting and mingling into one.
Serena gaped, awestruck by the spectacle before her. Oh, Gentlesister. You beat me in mana, but
our abilities should be one and the same, and still I wouldn’t dare imagine I
could do something like this.
This ritual was all part
of the process. A spell so intricate and complex that simple semantic and somatic
elements could not hope to imitate it.
Necessity demanded the
song and dance remain abstract. Delicate did not even
begin to describe the procedure. Each piece of the puzzle,
every interval between every note, every breath, every fluctuation of the
voice, each physical movement comprised an essential element. In this way, Melody hoped
to invoke heretofore unthinkable complexity and weave finer, more subtle
instructions into her magic. And she’d succeeded.
But the task was a
monumental one, even for Melody. It required every drop of
focus she could muster, with no potential interference from her usual
camouflage spells.
Of course, this also meant
that the courtyard had become a beacon of incredible silver energy. The very heavens might
have descended upon the Rudleberg estate, and any passersby could have seen
that, to say nothing of Melody’s singing, which she could not afford to quiet
in the name of neighborly politeness. Anyone could have spotted
them, Luciana not least of all, but no one did. The ritual went on
without a whiff of interruption.
Thus the need for Serena’s presence. We’re perfectly
concealed, Gentlesister. This once, you needn’t restrain yourself.
She had engulfed the
courtyard in a privacy spell that contained all light and sound. This, too, afforded
Melody the peace of mind she needed to don her natural hair and eyes in the
open.
And so the ritual
continued, until at last, the singing ended.
Silence swept into the
courtyard. Melody
again raised her hands to the moon. The amalgamation of the
ten silver nuggets, still a formless liquid metal, hovered at her fingertips.
It undulated and
shimmered until Melody spoke unto it the final words of the ritual: “Magic
emerge—Crea
Immagina.”
Micah returned to the
estate from her stay at the orphanage, Rook in tow. Rook had tagged along
mostly because he’d had the day off as well, but he tended to attach himself to
Micah’s hip regardless. Ever since losing his memories after being freed from the Dark One’s
grasp, he seemed to prefer Micah’s company above all others. “Seemed” because the man
was not much of a talker.
Perhaps his fondness was
born from the fact that she had given him his name. Perhaps she stirred in him
some forgotten memory. Only Rook knew, and he kept it to himself.
“Welcome back,” Serena
greeted them, taking a break from prepping dinner. “Did you rest well? Er, I take it Rook didn’t.”
Still wish
I could use magic, she admitted, yet the trip had refreshed her.
And then there was Rook. Bjork Quichel, once a
young man with the face of a young boy, had grown into his age and become quite
strapping thanks (unknowingly) to Melody. As Bjork, his hair had
been a messy, shorn mop of purple, but it was well-kept now, all the better to
highlight his newly masculine features. His mystifying gray eyes,
nearly as bright as silver, left observers wondering at the thoughts trapped
behind them. He was about Christopher’s height, and though slim, muscle filled out
his clothing in all the places that mattered. His shirt clung tightly
to his trim waist, highlighting the sort of hourglass figure many women might
consider squandered on a man.
Even slumped, his beauty
shone through.
“The kids ran him ragged,
I think,” Micah said.
“I’m going to assume that
phrasing is more literal than I’m immediately inclined to believe.”
“Let me put it this way:
Kids don’t like to go to bed at bedtime.” Micah giggled.
“I don’t find it funny,”
Rook sighed.
There was only one
natural conclusion to Micah bringing a handsome young man back home with her,
so she and Rook had weathered an avalanche of questions about Micah’s new
“boyfriend.” The more tactile learners among the children had resorted bluntly to
pokes and prods instead.
Rook took all of it as
Rook took everything—with stoicism. He would quickly come to
regret this. His silence came to mean “yes” to the children, which only confirmed
their belief that he was the newest member of the “family.” And members of the family
were safe to badger and pester and play with to your heart’s content. Suffering from amnesia,
and likely lacking any useful experience to pull from anyway, Rook was woefully
unprepared for dealing with children, leaving him at the mercy of every little
hand that tugged at him.
It didn’t matter that
Micah had denied the accusations about his and Micah’s relationship. Most young folk,
unfortunately, suffered from a chronic condition commonly known as “selective
hearing.”
Children were a treasure. But they were also wanton
little brats.
“I think I’ll keep my
distance from the orphanage from now on,” Rook said.
“You won’t have to once
the academy lets out for summer recess,” Micah said. “We’ll be going back home
with Lady Luciana, which, come to think of it, I really should let the
orphanage know. What do you
say? Just
one more visit before we leave?”
“Maybe… If it isn’t
overnight.”
“Careful, or she may send
you there for good,” Serena teased.
Rook sighed. Micah and Serena giggled. They knew the poor man
suffered late-onset growing pains. If he truly detested the
idea, it would have been obvious.
He did still humor the
kids, after all, when he could have just ignored them, Micah recalled.
He remembered none of it
now, but Rook had been robbed of a happy childhood earlier in life. Micah hoped he could find
some measure of peace via the orphanage, even if he wasn’t aware that he needed
it.
“Anyway, we’re well
rested,” Micah said. “I can help with dinner if… Wait, where’s Miss Melody?”
Melody was nowhere to be
found in the kitchen, which was odd for that particular workaholic. Normally, you couldn’t
keep her away from her duties.
“I’ve seen to it that she
has the day off,” said Serena.
“Miss Melody?! Taking
a day off?!”
“And she agreed?” Rook
asked. He
hadn’t been with the Rudlebergs long, and even he was incredulous. One had to wonder just
what he’d witnessed to already see the mad maid for what she was.
“I’m amazed,” Micah said. “She usually spends her
vacation time being a ‘maid for fun.’ I don’t know how you did
it, Serena.”
She chuckled. “She’s especially worn out today. She’s been resting in her
room since morning.”
“Since
morning? You’re sure she isn’t sick?”
“Oh, no. It’s
nothing like that.”
“Good morning, Serena,” a
sleepy maid yawned. “My
apologies. I’ll
get to work on dinner right away.”
“Finally awake, I see. Good morning, Gentlesister.”
“Or evening, I suppose. Odd, waking up to a sunset.”
“Miss Melody,” Micah
said, “have you been asleep since last night?” She’d been away at the
orphanage at the time, and she couldn’t hide her shock at this unlikely
development.
“Oh, hello, Micah. Welcome
back.”
“Thank you, but are you okay?
You should
really get back to bed if you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m right as rain. I just used a little too
much mana yesterday, that’s all. A nice nap was all I needed.” Melody smiled reassuringly.
Micah’s eyes only widened further. Miss Melody used “too much
mana”? Her? With her insane stats? What did she do this time?!
Melody, oblivious to all
of this, gasped. “I nearly
forgot! I
have a present for you, Micah.”
“That’s right. Here you
are.” Beaming,
she offered Micah a trinket.
A small, egg-shaped
ornament hung from the silver chain Melody held up. Two small wings extended
from either side of the ornament, and a lapis lazuli gemstone cut in the shape
of a heart sat embedded in its center.
“It’s so pretty,” Micah said.
“But why?”
“That will help you use
magic,” Melody said. “I
made it last night.”
Micah froze as everything
fell into place like dominoes. This is
how she used “too much mana.” This is what she did!
Melody continued to beam,
satisfied that her surprise gift had done its job. Particularly in the
surprise department.
Micah didn’t know what to
make of the nuclear plot device she now held in her hands. Uncertainty and
hesitation danced in her eyes, but excitement swept in to replace them.
Is
it true? she dared to wonder. Can I really cast spells
with this? Really?
“Thank you, Miss Melody! So all I have to do is wear
it?” She
slipped her head through the necklace and hung it around her neck. “Like this?”
It was an elegant solution. Inscribe a few basic
spells into a piece of jewelry, then have the wearer say the magic words, and
voilà! Instant mage. Surely, this was Melody’s
goal with her latest creation.
Well, I won’t really be a mage, but it’ll
sure feel like it!
Micah’s heart pounded
with excitement.
But Melody was ready to
rain on her parade. “No, that’s not it at all.”
Micah collapsed like a
performer doing a pratfall. She didn’t come from the
birthplace of Kansai humor, Osaka, back in her past life, but she felt they
would have admired her act nonetheless.
Alas! The landing was always
the hardest part to stick. The great Micah, Reincarnated Maid-in-Training and Straight Man
Extraordinaire, was getting stale. She risked losing her
audience if she didn’t develop some new material, and soon. Show biz would chew her
up and spit her…
Ahem. Micah was no comedian. But some situations
called for a quip.
“Miss Melody, you just
told me that this would let me use magic!” Micah said.
“I did, and it will, but
it’s going to take a little more than just putting it on.”
“It’s a magic item called
Uovo del Mago—Egg of the Mage—and it’s exactly what it sounds like. It contains the thing that
will help you on your spell casting journey.”
“Wait, it’s an actual egg?!” Micah held it tenderly
and examined it closely. “Is
it a bird?”
Rook ogled it too,
similarly befuddled. Serena only smiled and savored the suspense.
“Whatever hatches will be
up to you,” Melody replied.
“It could be a dog, a
cat, a rabbit, or indeed a bird. Maybe a broom, a wand. Even
a ring.”
“It will be whatever you
need most, which may not be a living creature. Rest assured, you’ll have
the perfect partner, one suited exclusively to you.”
“Exclusively to me… But
what for?”
“So you can use magic, of
course. That’s
the whole reason I created the Uovo del Mago.” When her audience gazed
at her stupefied, Melody continued: “Serena inspired the idea, you see.”
Micah glanced at the doll. She smiled back softly
from behind Melody. It was easy to forget Serena was an arcane being, a magical maid
automaton.
“Serena is, for all
intents and purposes, a magic item, but she can perceive and manipulate magic
freely. All
it takes is mana and the ability to parse it, both of which I designed her
with. You,
unfortunately, lack the former, which likewise precludes the latter. But then it occurred to me
that we can always just supplement what someone lacks.”
Micah looked down at her
pendant. “And
that’s what’s going to hatch from this?”
That sounds more like a
beast tamer or a summoner than a mage.
Micah surmised that some
kind of Serena Mk. II would hatch from the egg, and that being would do all the
spell casting. It didn’t exactly scream “mage” at her.
Melody saw right through
her, though, and grinned. “I understand completely. If you aren’t the one
doing the casting, then all you have is a glorified tool. I agonized over how to
solve that conundrum, and I assure you, the Uovo del Mago is the solution.”
Micah tilted her head,
unconvinced.
“In its creation, I used
the same methods I used to create Serena,” Melody went on, “imbuing personality
through the Alter Ego spell. With one difference: I
scrubbed all of my knowledge and memories. Aside from the bare
essentials as far as spell casting goes, that is.”
“What do you mean? Your knowledge and memories?”
“The Uovo del Mago is a
blank slate. Keep it on your person at all times, and as you carry it with you,
it’ll learn from your knowledge and memories. Once it’s conformed to
your mind and ways of thinking, you’ll have the perfect partner.”
“Conform as in it’ll come
out exactly like me?”
“It’ll use you as a
baseline, is what I mean to say. It only learns from you
in order to suit your needs, but it’ll come out with a personality all its own.
Assuming
whatever it becomes can have a personality.”
“The more you explain the
more scared I get.”
“There’s a lot about the
egg that’s impossible to predict. Of course, it won’t do
you any harm, no matter what emerges, but as for how intelligent it may be,
whether it will understand speech—those aspects we can only wait to discover. It may be nothing more
than a pet, or it may be a trinket of some kind, or take any number of
practical or impractical forms.”
“That’s why it’s up to
her,” Rook said for Micah, who was too busy processing to speak.
“Explain, Rook,” Micah
demanded.
“The egg will shape its
mind and body to suit yours. In
other words, you will shape the identity
of whatever emerges. It’s up
to you. Melody
can’t possibly predict what will come out of that egg.”
Micah groaned. That sounded like a lot of pressure.
Entirely unrelated, it
wasn’t strange for Rook to refer to Melody without any formal title. He rarely made use of the
standard “master” or “madam” honorifics.
“Don’t stress over it,”
Melody said. “As I said, whatever hatches, it’ll be the perfect partner and spell
casting focus. You
two’ll get on swimmingly. It’s practically a given.”
And how am I supposed to
“get on swimmingly” if an inanimate object pops out? Micah couldn’t help but
wonder.
She got halfway to
rolling her eyes before resigning herself to Melody’s whims. Melody wouldn’t steer her
wrong. She had to
believe that. As much as this sudden responsibility thrust upon her very much did
stress her.
There was still one
question hanging in the air. “Miss Melody, you said
this partner is supposed to help me use magic, but how exactly?”
Melody grinned. “It won’t be the only thing
adapting. As
you two attune to one another, you’ll form a kind of synchronous bond. Your partner’s mana and
ability to transmute it will be your own.”
Micah gasped as Melody’s
meaning sank in. “S-so you’re saying I’d be able to sense magic through it? Maybe ‘through it’ is the
wrong phrasing. If we’re attuned to one another, we might even share our thoughts. And if we can share
thoughts, then…we’d share everything else, wouldn’t we?”
She turned to Serena,
living, breathing proof of an artificial, magical apparatus capable of
manipulating mana at will. This partner was the manipulator, and Micah was the will. And that meant, so long as
they were together…
I could be a mage. A
real mage!
All of a sudden, the egg
gleamed.
Micah yelped. “Wh-what
was that?”
“The egg’s begun tuning,”
Melody explained. “Whatever you just felt, it had a dramatic effect.”
Micah tried to revive
that brief surge of emotion. Joy. Elation that her dream
might really come true. The Uovo del Mago had responded in kind.
Kinda makes me feel all
warm and fuzzy inside.
This unborn thing
belonged to her now, and it felt what she felt. That was a sobering
thought, but not an unsettling one.
That snapped Micah out of
her daydreams.
“The material’s
conductive enough to make that a nonissue,” Melody replied. “It should have enough
mana stored up to last until it hatches.”
“Silver,” Rook deduced,
eyeing the craftsmanship of the egg.
It was silver down to
even its chain. That chain alone would have made the pendant a rather valuable
accessory, but everything else about the trinket easily overshadowed that fact.
In
fairness, that “everything else” likely inflated its price far more than the
metal alone.
“Metals are the most
magically conductive materials,” Melody explained. “I seem to work
particularly well with silver for some reason, so I stockpiled a good amount of
it.”
Gee, I wonder why! Micah had truly been
cursed by forbidden knowledge.
“Not as much as I would
have liked, granted. It’s not quite equal to Serena, unfortunately.”
Melody scratched her
cheek bashfully, as though this somehow indicated a failure on her part.
Not as much as she
would’ve liked, Micah parroted
sarcastically. What she would’ve liked can’t be
reasonable!
Melody’s standards ran a
tad high, to say the least.
“Anyway, that about covers
it,” Melody said. “Will
you accept it?”
“Absolutely!” Micah
shouted. “Thank
you so much, Miss Melody!”
One did not turn down a
chance at sorcery. Micah did not hesitate for even a heartbeat.
I can be a mage! I really get to be a mage! It’ll probably be fine,
right? The
Jealous Witch Incident got a little hairy, but it worked out. I’m sure this’ll be fine!
So spoke every human
before many an unwise decision. Tunnel vision was a very
real, very dangerous affliction.
“By the way,” Rook spoke
up, “where did you get the silver for this?”
Precious metals did not
come cheap.
“In the forest where I
always gather materials,” Melody answered. “I’m sure you don’t
remember it. There was a crumbled pedestal there. I helped myself to a few
sizable chunks.”
“You helped yourself to what?!” Micah blurted.
“What in the world are
you shouting for?” Melody said.
All of Micah’s wonder and
amazement flew out of the kitchen together with her voice. There was only one silver
pedestal in those woods. It had technically already served its purpose in helping to redeem
Rook, but that didn’t change the horrifying truth of the Uovo del Mago.
Micah suddenly possessed a
plot device far more destructive than she ever could have imagined. This was no mere plot
trinket—it was a plot destroyer.
All the poor girl could
do now was wonder what in the world that maid was going to get up to next.
Chapter 2:
School’s Out!
NOTHING ENCOMPASSED “RISE
AND SHINE” quite like the sun that
morning.
The first day of August
arrived blazing, but classes at Royal Academy had officially ended for the
term. Summer
vacation had finally arrived to give the students of Theolas some much-needed
relief.
Luciana planned to return
to her home to the north for the long break. She and her retinue would
depart that very day, so Melody made sure to finish her early morning duties
quickly. As
she changed from her cleaning clothes to her usual uniform, a thought paused
her.
“Maybe I’ll swap to a
summer outfit.”
Melody had opinions about
the length of maids’ skirts and the general lack thereof, but she was less
inclined to nitpick sleeves. She could make
compromises for the sake of appearances, and what necessitated a change in
fashion more than a change of season?
“I really should have
thought of this back in June, but things were just so hectic while preparing my
lady for the academy. Now’s the perfect opportunity to correct that mistake.” She stuck her arms out and
said, “Rethread—Ricucitura.”
The sleeves of her blouse
unraveled, strands levitating in midair. Melody held her arms
aloft, crossed together, then drew them apart in a half circle. The threads obeyed,
gathering at her shoulders and weaving themselves back together. Her sleeves
rematerialized, shorter this time and ending at her elbows in a pair of white
cuffs.
“Excellent. I’ll prepare a spare for myself later.”
Beaming, she exited her
room at nearly the exact same moment as Serena, who caught her eye. They had done the morning
cleaning together, and she had just finished changing as well.
Before she could show off
her own new look, Melody found Serena dressed identically.
“You shortened your
sleeves too?” Serena giggled.
“Maybe we
really are sisters.”
The doll had been given
life via the Alter Ego spell, a conjuration Melody typically used to make
copies of herself, but Serena was special in that Melody had purposefully left
her personality to random chance. Serena had free will and
none of Melody’s memories or experiences, which made coincidences like this
uncanny indeed.
“You look lovely,
Gentlesister.”
Another of the servant
quarters’ doors clicked open as they smiled at each other.
“Good morning,” the
maid-in-training yawned. “Miss
Melody. Miss Serena.”
Kurita Maika, now known
as Micah, had no memory of how she’d arrived in this world. Not all that long ago,
she’d suddenly gained awareness in the body of a ten-year-old girl with
recollections of life in Japan up to junior high, but everything beyond that
was a blur. She remembered nothing of her twilight years nor of how she’d died in
her previous life. Micah was effectively a child again.
She rubbed her eyes,
thankful that she didn’t have any duties that morning.
“What have I told you
about forms of address, young lady?” Serena scolded her. “That habit of yours
sticks like a bad stain.” She placed a hand on her cheek and sighed in resignation.
Melody, however,
expressed no displeasure. She found it endearing and indulged in the sense of seniority it
imparted when Micah addressed her that way.
“Wait!”
Micah shouted,
finally awake. “No one told me we were changing uniforms!”
“It only just occurred to
me, so I shortened my sleeves a little,” said Melody.
“No
fair! I want a new
uniform too!”
“Are you uncomfortable? I thought I made your
outfit suitable for the heat.”
Melody enchanted all the
uniforms she made with heat- and cold-resistant spells. No weather would prove
too extreme for what essentially amounted to fabric-based air conditioning. She could have made quite
the infomercial out of the whole thing.
“Well, no, I feel just
fine actually, but that’s not the point!” Micah pouted and stomped
her feet in childish rage. For a girl her age, it was rather adorable. For a maid, it was
utterly unbecoming.
Melody grinned wearily. “Okay,
okay. Hold your arms out.
Rethread—Ricucitura.”
Micah gaped at the
countless dancing threads as she experienced the spell for the first time.
“Now the finishing touches. Do a twirl for me, would
you?”
She twirled, her skirt
puffing out and her little pink pigtails fluttering in the air. The threads followed, and
by the time she finished the turn, the spell was complete.
Micah admired her new
summery aesthetic. “Thank you, Miss Melody!”
“You look cute. Now, we have work to do, girls.”
They made for the kitchen. Rook, the
valet-in-training, was already waiting there for them.
“Good morning, Rook,”
Micah said.
“Good morning,” he
replied tersely.
Rook, the forth love
interest of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths and known as Bjork
Quichel before he lost his memories, now served House Rudleberg as its only
manservant. Before, he’d looked like a small boy years younger than he actually
was, but a dose of maid magic produced the unexpected side effect of maturing
him into a handsome and strapping young man. He cut his former mop of
purple hair short, as was befitting a servant of nobility. In fact, he retained
practically nothing of his old appearance from the game. Anyone who knew him from
it would never assume that this was
Bjork Quichel.
He wasn’t, really. He was Rook now, and he was presently doing the dishes.
“Good morning,” Melody said. “Thank you for polishing
the tableware. As best you can when most of it is wood, I suppose. Maybe one day we can find
some silver for you.”
Traditionally, a footman
would maintain the silverware, and footmen shared many duties with valets. They also answered
directly to the household butler, who typically began their careers as footmen
themselves.
Rook had a long way to go
until he could call himself a butler, and so was beginning at the bottom.
“Serena, Micah, please
see to breakfast,” Melody said. “Rook, prepare His
Lordship and Her Ladyship’s morning tea. I’ll prepare Lady Luciana’s. Wait for me when you
finish, Rook. You still need to practice your pouring technique, so I’ll accompany
you to His Lordship’s chamber.”
All three replied in the
affirmative. Truthfully, Melody desperately wanted their tasks for herself, but
she’d learned her lesson about teamwork. Besides, this was nice in
its own way. A proper retinue knew how to divide labor. Melody felt like she was
part of a well-oiled machine.
“Now let’s get to work!” she
said.
“Yes, madam,” her staff
responded.
Dishes clattered and
kettles boiled. Melody
was in her element.
“I suppose I’ll be by
myself after today,” Serena muttered. “It’ll be lonely.”
Serena alone would see to
the Rudlebergs’ capital estate while everyone else journeyed to Luciana’s
girlhood home: Melody as her personal attendant, Micah as her assistant, and
Rook to train under the estate’s butler. The lord and lady would
not join them, as work and social obligations kept them firmly tied to the
capital, so Melody could not simply leave the estate empty. Serena, being created
explicitly for scenarios such as this, was the obvious choice to remain.
She and her
sister-creator had never been so far apart before. Despite being a magical
maid automaton of her caliber, Serena had to suffer the unfortunate fate of a
benchwarmer all the same.
“It’ll only be for three
weeks,” Melody consoled her. “We have to return by the
end of the month at the latest.”
“Is summer recess all of
August?” Micah asked.
“It
is. And the
very last day is the Summer Ball at the palace, so we really ought to be back a
week early to prepare our lady.”
“About two weeks,” Rook
calculated.
“I was going to say
that,” Micah said. “Right,
two whole weeks. Or only two weeks?”
“It will fly by, I’m
sure,” said Serena.
“And then we’ll be back
and livening things up again before you know it,” said Melody. “We’ll be sure to bring
souvenirs.”
Serena tittered. “Now you’ve gone and gotten my hopes up.”
Melody smiled before
pushing her tea cart to its destination.
“Morning…” Luciana
grumbled groggily. The maid’s mistress was not yet fully with the living, but her
drowsiness vanished when she took a better look at Melody. “Oh! Melody, your clothes are
different!” The sight of her favorite maid’s new outfit woke her right up. “I like the short sleeves.”
“You’re too kind, my lady. I’ve prepared your
favorite brew of royal milk tea this morning.”
Luciana sat up and
accepted the cup, sipping gracefully from it. No one would have believed
that this was the sordid daughter of the Ignobles. Melody watched her lady
with pride. It was her greatest joy to witness moments like these.
“Thank you, Melody. Delicious as always.”
“You honor me, my lady. I was considering changing
to a summer wardrobe starting today. What are your thoughts?”
“Would you do that? I suppose we might as well, not that I’m ever hot in the dresses you
make. Short
sleeves are part of the season, after all!”
And so it was that the
Rudlebergs’ wardrobes transformed.
“How do you like it, my
lady?” Melody asked.
“I love it! It’s not just nice and breezy, but it feels lighter too.”
Melody rethreaded
Luciana’s favorite blue dress into a sleeveless, summery style. Less fabric, more
subdued, but not without the tasteful embellishments no noble could go without.
The
beautiful garment suited her perfectly.
“This’ll be so fun to
wear,” Luciana said. “Thanks,
Melody!”
“Your praise is wasted on
me, my lady.”
“While we’re at it, I was
actually thinking maybe we could change my hair too?”
“Very good, my lady. How does a ponytail sound? Have a seat and I’ll see
to it at once.”
“Sitting!”
the lady sang. She was almost
cartoonishly giddy as she bounced on her seat.
“You’re in good spirits, I
see,” Melody said.
“We’re going on a trip! I could hardly sleep last
night!”
Melody failed to hide a
smirk as she fiddled with her lady’s hair. She could be so childish
sometimes. “Your
parents won’t be joining us, and you’ve already been there before.”
“Still.
I have yet
to fully acquaint myself with some of our new faces, and a trip’s the perfect
opportunity to do that.”
“Very true,” Melody said. “There.
Done.”
“Cute!
I love it! Thank you, Melody!”
Melody did up Luciana’s
hair high and loose. She’d left her bangs alone, allowing tufts of hair to frame Luciana’s
face in a youthful style. A ribbon the same color as her dress crowned the ensemble.
“Can you do my hair like
this on my birthday too?” Luciana
asked.
“On August 7th, it will be
so.”
Luciana’s birthday was
coming up soon. Last year, she’d celebrated with her family at home, but she couldn’t
do that this time. Luciana wasn’t disappointed. She’d known it would be
like this for a good while, and her parents had already held a miniature
celebration for her while they could.
Melody was straightening
the vanity when she remembered something. “Speaking of your
birthday, my lady, I have an update regarding the present you requested.”
“Hm? Oh, my birthday gift! Is it ready?!”
“Well, it’s, er, not
technically your birthday yet, my lady.”
“Please!
We already
celebrated, so what difference does it make? Can I, please?” Luciana clasped her hands pleadingly.
The maid half grimaced,
half smiled. “Oh, I suppose. Very well. I’ll give it to you
before we depart.”
Luciana dove for Melody,
who skillfully sidestepped the attack.
“Nobles do not throw
themselves at their maids, my lady.”
“All right, that was
impressive. Anyway, I suppose I’ll have to find some way to make this up to you,
won’t I?”
“You needn’t do such a
thing.”
“But I want to. Just wait.
I’ll find
you the best birthday present you’ve ever seen!” Luciana grinned from ear
to ear. “So tell me. When is—”
“I’ll look forward to
it,” Melody interjected with a chuckle. “Next year, that is.”
“…it?
What?”
The lady’s face turned to
stone.
“Wh-when is it, Melody? Your birthday.”
“June 15th. The 15th. Of June? June 15th.”
“June 15th,” Melody
confirmed.
Silence reigned as the
immense complexity of that statement fully sank in. Melody was left
confounded, but Luciana required this incubation period for all the feelings
brewing inside her.
And then they exited her
through her mouth. Loudly.
The Rudleberg estate
suffered far more screaming these days than during its era as a haunted house.
“M-my lady, there’s no
need to torment yourself,” Melody said.
“This is it,” Luciana rasped.
“This is rock bottom.”
“That’s, er, your bed
actually. Please,
my lady, you’ll wrinkle your dress lying there.”
This was, in fact, the
calmest Luciana had been in the past several minutes since her discovery. Previously, she’d
thrashed and wailed and engaged in hyperbole of the highest degree. Melody could not fathom
why the matter of her birthday had sent her lady into such a state.
“Why, why, why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” Luciana fumed.
“My lady, it’s not a
maid’s place to inform her lady of something so superfluous.”
“Superfluous?! It should have been
priority number one!”
Was it immature to so
lament something as trivial as a maid’s birthday? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps Luciana burying
her face in her pillow, huffing, and throwing a tantrum might have tilted the
scales a little. Regardless, Melody had to do something, however ridiculous a situation
this was.
She racked her brain. I’m at a loss. How do I…? Wait. That’s it!
Melody slipped her hand
into her dress and produced a narrow box that was far too big for the pocket it
emerged from. Such was the way of things whenever Melody was involved.
“Please, my lady. Collect
yourself.”
No answer. Luciana refused to so much as raise her head.
Luciana shot straight up. “Present!”
She trotted over to Melody
like she hadn’t been pouting and languishing on the bed only moments earlier. How very convenient.
“The thing I asked for! Thank you so much, Melody!”
The maid giggled. “I’m pleased you like it.”
Luciana admired her gift
of a wooden folding fan while Melody saw to fixing the hair Luciana had ruined
in the name of drama. Luciana splayed the fan out, revealing a bright, pale turquoise
material with rippling golden embellishments.
“It’s beautiful,” she
breathed.
“Like the hair that
inspired it,” Melody said.
“W-well now I’m going to
be too embarrassed to use it!” Luciana blurted, snapping
the fan shut. “I swear…”
Her maid muttered a
half-hearted apology that lacked any sincerity.
“A-anyway,” Luciana said,
“I’m still upset you hid your birthday. Why didn’t you tell me?” It was as good a subject
change as any while her face cooled. “I could have asked, I
suppose, but I wish I could have prepared some kind of celebration.”
Melody bit back a comment
on unladylike behavior as Luciana puffed up her cheeks. She settled for pressing
her lips together firmly instead. “You have my apologies, my
lady. You
were beginning your first semester at the academy and acclimating to dormitory
life. You
had larger concerns, and my birthday didn’t seem pertinent.”
Luciana grumbled. “I hate when you use logic.”
June 15th was right around
when Luciana was establishing herself at Royal Academy. Even had she known in
advance, she probably couldn’t have done much about it. But it was the principle
of the matter.
“I just wish we could have
done something,” Luciana said. “Anything.
Even if it was small.”
“My lady…” Melody’s hands
stopped.
Luciana turned in her
seat, cheeks rosy and lips stretched in a wide smile. “Happy late birthday, Melody!
I won’t miss the
next one!”
“Oh, my lady. Thank you.
I’ll look forward to
it.”
It occurred to Melody that
this was the first time since her mother’s passing that someone had spoken
those words to her. She’d grown unaccustomed to them. Soon, Luciana’s blush
spread to her.
“I’ll work out something
for your present later,” Luciana said. “So the fan you made for
me, it does what I asked for?” She stood, hair straight
again, and spread the fan out.
“Exactly as you specified. Allow me to show you.”
The fan was no mere
bauble but a magical implement. Melody proceeded to
instruct her lady on its use, which Luciana tested at once.
Satisfied, Luciana nodded. “Perfect!”
“I’m happy to be of
service, but what, may I ask, did you need such a feature for?”
Melody cocked her head. Her lady had requested
this, so she’d acquiesced, of course, without question.
Luciana snapped the fan
out and sneered. “For
fools and nuisances.”
Chapter 3:
A Surprise Visitor
“GOODNESS, LUCIANA, YOUR
HAIR LOOKS lovely!” Beatrice complimented.
“Doesn’t it? I can actually feel the breeze on my neck,” Luciana said.
“And that dress is so
pretty on you, though the bare shoulders are awfully bold,” Milliaria noted.
“Don’t worry,” Luciana
assured. “I
have a shawl for when I’m out in public.”
“I think you look
beautiful,” Luna added.
Luciana giggled. “Thanks,
Luna.”
It was after breakfast at
the Rudleberg estate. Preparations for departure proceeded, and Luciana’s three closest
friends were here to see her off.
Beatrice, daughter of
Viscount Lillertcruz, and Milliaria, daughter of Baron Faronkalt, were new
nobility, their families having come into the Rudlebergs’ old territory in
recent generations. They had grown up practically as neighbors and were Luciana’s childhood
friends.
Luna Invidia was a Noble
of the Robe, her family technically holding a rank equal to a countship but
owning no actual land. They instead held permanent residence in the capital. She sat beside Luciana in
class and occupied the dorm room next to hers at the academy. She was also Luciana’s
newest friend.
They sat gathered around
a table in Luciana’s room, chatting idly.
“It’s sad you’re the only
one leaving,” Beatrice said. “You should have stayed
behind with us.”
“It would have been nice
to explore the capital together,” Milliaria agreed.
Neither were returning
home for the break. Their families had lived in the royal capital since the Spring Ball, so
they had no reason to go home, even if they wanted to make the journey.
The same technically went
for Luciana, but she felt a little differently. “My father has some
documents he wants taken home.” Her voice dropped to a
shy whisper. “Also, I
miss everyone.”
Beatrice didn’t let that
bashful comment go unremarked. “Leave it to Luciana to
feel homesick around her own parents.”
“I-it’s not that! I’m
not homesick!” Luciana
protested.
“It was sweet of your
father to make up an excuse for you,” Milliaria said.
“But they’re important
documents! Really, they
are!”
“We’re all friends here,”
said Luna. “There’s
no reason to be shy about it.”
“Not you too! This isn’t about my uncle! He’s
the last reason I want to go home,
okay?!”
“She’s done it again,
Milliaria,” Beatrice said, leaning in like she was sharing a secret. “She’s sold herself out
and doesn’t even realize it.”
“I know,” Milliaria
replied in similar fashion. “Isn’t it adorable?”
“I can hear you!” the accused snapped.
There were no secrets at
this table.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed
of caring for your family, Luciana,” said Luna. “Don’t hide it. You should be honest with
yourself.”
“But I am! It’s not about my uncle because I also want to see all the villagers
again too! You’ve
got the wrong idea!”
“I’m…beginning to wonder
what exactly it is you even think you’re hiding.” Luna gave up trying to
make sense of her friend’s ramblings.
If three was a crowd, and
women were clucking hens, then Luciana’s room was an overpopulated coop. Even this early in the
morning, the room housed an impressive array of chaos so far.
Luciana eventually
regained enough composure to remember her other classmates. “It’s a shame Lucif and
Perriand couldn’t come. At least I got to say goodbye.”
Luna grimaced. “They’re
commoners. It’s
understandable that they may not want to roam the Upper District.”
“And Lucif is a boy,”
Milliaria added. “He can’t be in your room in the first place.”
“Ah, but you forgot about
an important loophole,” said Beatrice.
“Luciana is her family’s
only daughter. She’ll have to find a husband someday, so all Lucif has to do is marry
in. Then he
can come and go as he pleases.”
Luna’s eyes sparkled. “Goodness, I had no idea
you saw him that way, Luciana.”
“Saw him what way?” Luciana
huffed. “We’re
friends, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Beatrice, stop planting
funny ideas in people’s heads. If we weren’t in my room,
someone might overhear and start spreading rumors.”
“I know, I know. Sorry,” Beatrice said. “Just a flight of fancy.”
“It makes you wonder who
Luciana will actually marry, doesn’t it?” Milliaria pondered.
Luciana sputtered. “Where are you going with this?”
Milliaria clasped her
hands and looked up innocently from under her lashes. “As your childhood friend,
it’s only natural I should be concerned. Who wouldn’t want to meet
the man who eventually wins the heart of the Fae Princess?”
“Are people still calling
me that?” Luciana deflated.
She’d had
enough of that embarrassing moniker.
“They prefer Hero
Princess in my class,” Beatrice said. “Everyone saw what you
did at the ball. They’re not likely to forget it anytime soon.”
“I wish they would.” Her Highness collapsed
onto the table as her friends broke out into laughter at her expense.
“The lord chancellor,
according to my father,” Luciana mumbled into the table. Her mind flashed back to
the conversation with Hughes in the carriage the day after the attack.
Luna’s eyes widened like
saucers. “The lord
chancellor? A
man as pragmatic and stoic as he thought to give you a
nickname? My goodness…”
A knock came at the door. “May I come in, my lady?”
“Serena?” Luciana
answered. “Yes, come in.”
Serena bowed as she entered. “Lord Maxwell of House
Reclentos has come to visit. He asked to see you.”
Stunned silence crashed
through the room, and for some time, Luciana could not respond.
But before that shocking
announcement, Melody, Micah, and Rook busily loaded the carriage that awaited
to the side of the manor’s front entrance. They had borrowed a
one-horse coach from the city that had room for four passengers, and were using
the railed roof as cargo space. Rook would serve as
coachman and guard both, while the women—Luciana, Melody, and Micah—occupied
the interior seats. Thanks to some muscle memory from his time as Bjork Quichel, Rook found
a while ago that he knew his way around a sword decently well, hence his
secondary role as guard. He similarly seemed to take to beasts well and became the designated
driver as a result.
No one dared mention that
they needed neither driver nor guard with Melody present. A man was a necessity for
any long journey, anyway.
“Rook,” Micah panted. “This…please.”
“Man am I glad we have a
boy now.” Micah
stared up at that towering figure of masculinity.
In this world, a five-day
journey was not overly long, relatively speaking, but it was by no means brief.
They could
not turn the coach around for any forgotten items, aside from Melody’s Ovunque
Porta spell, but where was the pride in relying on last resorts? Melody had more dignity
than that. There would be no turning back, for more
than just practical reasons.
The most perfect maid
does not forget her lady’s things before a long trip, she reminded herself.
She had made a vow to her
mother that she would become the world’s most perfect maid. That vow marked the
genesis of the entire maid magic branch of sorcery she’d invented. Now, after everything she
had been through over the last semester at the academy, she had a much firmer
grasp on what that actually meant.
The most perfect maid was
there for her lady, no matter what. So that was what Melody
would do. So
long as Luciana was smiling, she was doing her job.
“Done,” the young valet
grunted.
“Thank you, Rook. That should be everything.” Melody marked off the last
item on her list.
Rook nodded, then
descended from the coach.
The maids smirked. Melody hadn’t known Rook before his identity change, but he was a very
reticent man now and never forthcoming about his feelings. He rarely spoke without
being spoken to, and tended to reply in only a word or two. His demeanor didn’t
interfere with his work, granted, but the man was anything but talkative.
Still, he did reach out
in his own way, and that wasn’t lost on the girls. Melody acknowledged that
his amnesia likely handicapped his expressiveness and he was relearning proper
communication.
In any case, Rook’s
brusqueness was not a matter of contention.
“So all that’s left is to
leave, then, Miss Melody?” Micah
said.
“That’s right. We can depart as soon as Lady Luciana’s tea party finishes.”
“If it finishes. Should we expect to leave
late?”
“Fair point. Perhaps we ought to let her know we’ve finished preparations,” Melody
said.
“Speaking as a woman,
girls sure do like to talk,” Micah said.
“That they do. Why, get me on the topic of maids, and I’ll chat your ear right off.”
Micah did not say that
chats had to be at least two-sided to count, but she certainly thought it.
Rook stood off to the
side, not quite knowing what to do with himself. “Melody, what next?”
“Hm?”
That yanked
her out of memory lane. “Oh, yes. Well…”
But before she could
answer, neighs and clopping disturbed the serene scene outside the estate. The three servants turned
toward the noise just in time to watch a carriage pull up to the manor.
“Another guest? I thought Lady Luciana’s friends were all here,” Micah said.
“Yes, and I don’t believe
we were expecting any other visitors.” Melody studied the newcomer. “Let’s go and greet them.”
Two fine horses drew the
extravagant, lavishly decorated carriage. Its passenger alighted
before the servants.
“Greetings, Melody. Long time no see.”
Honey-blond hair tied up
in a ponytail and emerald green eyes meant this handsome effigy belonged to
none other than Maxwell Reclentos, second love interest of The
Silver Saint and the Five Oaths.
The coachman who’d opened
the carriage door stood aside as Melody returned her friend’s genial smile with
a maidly one of her own. “Our most humble welcome, Lord Reclentos.”
She offered him a perfect
curtsy, a spectacle that left even the coachman awestruck.
Inwardly, Melody was
aghast at the sudden deviation in their plans. What in
the world is Max doing here?!
Outwardly, however, she
presented the picture-perfect maid.
“I understand. We’ll inform her of your arrival at once. If you’ll follow me, I
will show you to the parlor where you can wait for her, if it pleases you.”
“I’d be much obliged. I expect I won’t intrude
long, if it’s no trouble to leave the carriage here for a short while.”
“As you wish, my lord. Please, follow me. Rook, inform His Lordship of our visitor. Micah, do the same for
Serena, and have her bring along Lady Luciana. Prepare some tea as well. I’ll attend to Lord
Reclentos.”
Her underlings responded
at once. Melody
had a much sterner air about her in front of such esteemed company, and it
rubbed off on her two trainees. They bowed just as they’d
been taught and departed.
Leaving the coachman with
the carriage, Melody saw Maxwell into the estate. They walked in silence,
but Maxwell kept his eyes trained on the maid, his smile never faltering. When they arrived at the
parlor, he took a seat on the couch at Melody’s suggestion.
“We’ll have tea ready
shortly,” Melody said. “Please make yourself comfortable until our lady arrives.”
Maxwell winced. “Even now?
Won’t my
friend return to me, at least while we’re alone?”
His regal air dissipated. Noticing this, Melody
shut her eyes and let out a breath. Her professional bearing
softened into a friendly grin.
“What in the world are
you doing here, Max?”
“My own rudeness isn’t
lost on me, rest assured.”
They had met months ago
in the stagecoach that brought Melody here from her hometown. They became friends on
that journey, a decidedly rare relationship for a maid to have with nobility. But Maxwell cherished
Melody for seeing him for who he was beyond his beautiful exterior, a rare
trait indeed, at least in Max’s experience. Very few had the
privilege of calling him “Max,” but she’d earned it.
“Sit, will you?” he said. “Let’s talk a while.”
“That’s very kind of
you,” Melody said, “but I’m afraid that’s impossible. A maid never takes a seat in front of a guest.”
Maxwell snorted, entirely
unsurprised by her response. “I thought you’d say that. Then stand, but we can
still talk, can’t we? We don’t get many chances to.”
“I…suppose.” Melody listened for approaching footsteps before letting her guard
down. “I suppose
we can do that.”
And then they talked. About recent events. About nothing, mostly. In an entirely platonic
manner. The
complete absence of any sort of spark was uncanny, frankly.
Before long, Micah
interrupted them with tea. Melody took over for her, poured a cup, and offered it to Maxwell.
Melody returned to the
humble role of maid, and Maxwell to a noble, though he a little more
reluctantly. The maids excused themselves to either side of the door, where they
waited for their lady.
“His Lordship and Her
Ladyship have arrived,” Rook announced.
Melody opened the door,
and the count and countess entered.
Hughes looked far from
relaxed. “W-welcome
to our humble abode, Lord Reclentos.”
“Your visits are always
an honor, my lord,” his wife, Marianna, added. She carried herself with
far more composure than her fidgety husband, and with far fewer twitches of the
cheek.
Maxwell rose and bowed. “My intrusion is hardly
deserving of your hospitality, but I thank you nonetheless.”
“H-how can we help you on
this fine day?” Hughes
stammered.
“My business is with Lady
Luciana, as it happens. I’ve something to ask her.”
“Luciana?”
Marianna repeated. “My, whatever do you have
to ask her about?”
“I’d prefer to divulge
that in her presence, if I may.”
“Oh, I’m so curious. Aren’t you, dear?”
“I-indeed,” croaked her
husband.
The three sat and
conversed amiably. Mostly Maxwell and Marianna talked while Hughes performed a riveting
impersonation of a statue. He worked at the Royal Chancery, headed of course by the esteemed lord
chancellor, and here before him sat his superior’s own son and heir.
Oh
dear, Melody thought. His Lordship looks ill.
Stomping echoed down the
hallway beyond the door. Then
a distinct lack of stomping, followed by
a thud.
A yelp pierced the placid
air of the parlor.
“Calm yourself, my lady,”
Serena said, muffled.
Luciana, in all her
grace, had evidently taken a tumble just outside the parlor.
“A moment to fix your
hair before you enter, my lady.”
Luciana fussed and
sputtered, but her stumble was clear as day to everyone who awaited her. Maxwell grinned,
endeared, while her parents’ faces turned ashen. It was all Melody could
do to keep from rubbing her hand down her face. That she managed to keep
smiling was a great point of pride for her.
Chapter 4:
Safe Travels
SERENA HERALDED LUCIANA’S ARRIVAL. She entered the parlor
carrying herself as a lady ought. That was, without any
indication that she may or may not have tripped just moments earlier.
She curtsied beautifully. “My apologies for making
you wait, Lord Maxwell. To what do we owe the pleasure of—”
Luciana stood straight
again and blinked at Maxwell. “Pardon?”
It sounded
like he’d said something. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“It’s, er, nothing.” Maxwell cleared his throat. “Pardon me.”
A blush stole into his
cheeks, so faint Luciana wondered if she was imagining it. Everyone else wore
similar expressions of confusion. Much to his relief, it
seemed Maxwell’s comment had gone unheard.
“In that case, er, to
what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Luciana sat opposite him,
sandwiched between her parents.
Recomposing himself,
Maxwell reached into his breast pocket and produced a wax-sealed letter. He offered it to her.
“What is this?” Luciana
asked.
The count and countess
eyed the letter curiously. It bore the seal of House Reclentos, so whatever it was, it was
official.
“It’s a proposal,” Maxwell
said. “From me.”
He cracked a smirk at her
bemusement. “Will you, Lady Luciana, do me the honor of attending the Summer Ball
with me at the end of this month?”
“The Summer Ball?” Marianna parroted, mirroring her daughter’s bewilderment.
“With you?” Hughes
followed up.
“You want me,” Luciana
said slowly, “to attend the Summer Ball. With you?”
Luciana’s statue
impersonation was not quite as skillful as her father’s because moments later—
The second scream of the
morning rang out.
Not even Melody was immune. Inwardly, at least. Outwardly, she maintained
the composure of a perfect maid.
Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. What do I do? What do I say? Luciana panicked. She scoured her
surroundings for an escape route before remembering this wasn’t that kind of
emergency. She
looked down at the letter, then at Maxwell, then at the letter again, and then
back at Maxwell.
Count and Countess
Rudleberg manifested their bewilderment in the exact same way.
The
apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Maxwell found himself
noting with amusement. It was a rare thing indeed to meet such a candid family of nobles.
“How do I, um, interpret
this exactly, Lord Maxwell?” Luciana asked when she’d
calmed somewhat.
Maxwell Reclentos was
quite the man. Son of Lord Chancellor Marquess Georic Reclentos, confidant of Crown
Prince Christopher, and next in line for the chancellorship by his own merits. A man who, infamously,
had attended every formal ball by his lonesome.
Until, that was, the
Spring Ball.
Luciana had been his
first partner ever, but the Spring Ball was special. He’d only been an
obligatory escort doing a favor for his friend Melody. It had been a fluke. Luciana never considered
that he would choose her again.
She had but one question
on her mind: Why is this happening?!
Luciana’s face burned. Words failed her.
Maxwell, reading the
tension in the room, stood slowly. “I won’t press you for an
answer right this second. I’ll come again when you’ve returned to the capital, so please, think
on it until then. If
you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, um, yes. Of
course.” The
pressure mercifully alleviated, Luciana attempted to rise. “Allow me to—” And
promptly failed.
She yelped as she tumbled. The shock of this fall
jolted the count and countess to their senses. They scrambled to catch
her and prevent a repeat of a previous tragedy.
Perhaps Luciana was not
as composed as she’d thought.
“Are you all right, Lady
Luciana?” Maxwell asked.
“I’ve troubled you,” Maxwell said. “Please, allow me to see myself out.”
“My lady,” Melody said, “I
will walk our guest back to his carriage. Take a moment to collect
yourself.”
Luciana groaned. “Okay. Thanks, Melody.”
“It’s my pleasure, my lady. Shall we, Lord Reclentos?”
“Let’s,” Maxwell said. He bowed to the family. “I apologize again for my
intrusion, and thank you for the time you’ve spared me.”
They walked in silence. Occasionally, Melody sent
furtive glances at the lord behind her.
What exactly is the
meaning of this, Max?
Formal invitations to
balls carried many connotations, not least of all affection. Many considered them a
precursor to an eventual marriage proposal. They weren’t binding, of
course, but dance partners often did become life partners. Count and Countess
Rudleberg could speak to that phenomenon themselves.
But Max made no mention
of a betrothal. If that truly is what this was about, their houses should be deep into
negotiations by now. I just can’t make sense of this.
“A little.” Melody jumped, whipping around to face him. “I-I mean, no! Not at all!”
Maxwell smirked, but not
in an unkind manner.
Melody hesitated. “Why…did you invite my lady, Max?”
“I told no lie when I
said I wanted to dance with her again.”
Melody waited for her
friend to continue, but he didn’t. They stood face-to-face
in the foyer for some time.
She sighed when her
patience finally broke. “Very
well. I’ll ask no
more questions. I trust
you, Max. You’re my
friend.”
Melody’s demeanor began
to shift from friendly to maidly. It was an intimidating
transformation.
“I am also a maid, and
should you do anything to hurt or sadden my
lady, I will be forced to react accordingly. So do bear in mind how
you conduct yourself, Lord Reclentos.”
Maxwell laughed. “Duly
noted.”
Melody laughed too, but
Maxwell did not trust that sound for a moment.
“Until we meet again, my
lord.”
He was off. And Melody did not stop smiling.
“You’d best fill us in
when you get back!” Beatrice
exclaimed.
“What Beatrice said! We’ll have no more of
these secrets, Luciana!” Milliaria
added.
“Y-you’ve made your
point,” Luciana said. “I hardly know what happened myself!”
Unsurprisingly, Maxwell’s
shocking visit set the whole operation three hours behind schedule. Of course, it didn’t help
that Luciana’s friends interrogated her relentlessly while her head was still
spinning.
“You’ve got to sweep him
off his feet when you get back,” Luna said. “I’ll help brainstorm ideas.”
“I-I haven’t even decided
to be his partner yet! But wait, Luna, are you sure?”
“Well, me going to the
ball with Lord Maxwell.”
Luna tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You said you admired him,
didn’t you? I
thought that you might, well…”
Another thing she’s
forgotten, Luciana thought. I wonder why she doesn’t
remember.
Luna had said many things
during her confrontation with Luciana, back when that meager remnant of the
Dark One had possessed her, things born out of jealousy. “Oh, Lord Maxwell. I’ve always
admired him,” she’d
confessed. “But he invited you to the student council.”
She might not remember,
but Luciana did. What if his advances came between them?
“He is an admirable man,
but I’d hardly go so far as to say I have romantic feelings for him,” Luna
said. “If
you do, all the more reason to support you!”
“I-I never said I had
feelings for him! I don’t
think.”
“Well, what even are
romantic feelings?” Luciana
grumbled. “It’s
a complicated question.”
Luna giggled. “Yes, it
is. So it’s
a good thing you’ve a long journey ahead to think it over. Do let me know what you
decide when you get back, won’t you?”
“Don’t forget me!” Beatrice interjected.
“All right, all right, I
get it!” snapped Luciana.
Melody observed all this while seeing to the final
checks on their coach. Horse in good health. Wheels, axle, seating,
hinges, harness, reins, all good. Next… Ah, the spell. Of
course.
Orizzontale would absorb
every bump and shock the carriage might experience en route, sparing the
luggage as much as the passengers. A world without vehicle
suspension was a world of motion sickness. Melody could attest to
that unfortunate truth. If she hadn’t used this same spell on the carriage that first delivered
her to the capital, she might have lost her dignity—and her lunch—along the
way.
“My lady,” she said,
“we’re ready to depart.”
Melody helped her lady
into the carriage. Micah followed, then Melody filed in last. Sword affixed to his hip,
Rook hoisted himself into the box seat at the front of the carriage and took
the reins.
Luciana opened the window
and poked her head out. “Goodbye,
Father! Goodbye, Mother!”
“You be safe,” Hughes
called back.
“Pass along our regards
to everyone,” said Marianna.
“Will
do! Beatrice,
Milliaria, Luna, thank you so much for coming to see me off! We’ll do this again as
soon as we can. Serena, keep Mother and Father out of trouble!”
Serena curtsied gracefully. “Of course, my lady.”
Rook snapped the reins,
and they were off.
“Bye, everyone!” Luciana shouted one last time.
“Safe travels!” they shouted back in unison.
And so the journey home
to the Rudleberg demesne began.
“Is all well, my lady?” Melody asked.
“Yeah, it was just a busy
morning. I’m a little
exhausted.”
“We’ve only just left and
it already feels like a full day’s passed,” Micah agreed. “By the way, my lady, what
were your thoughts about the ball?”
Luciana, however, could
not know the source of Micah’s not-so-innocent curiosity, and her blush
returned with a vengeance. “I’m still not really sure. Melody, what do you think
I should do?”
She looked to her maid for
help, but unfortunately, she would find no salvation there. In lives both past and
present, Melody had lived a decidedly chaste existence. Duty over pleasure and all
that.
Thus, Melody had only one
answer for her lady. “I believe your friends were wise when they advised you to think it
over, my lady.”
Chapter 5:
Forum of Foreboding
WHILE LUCIANA’S TRIP WAS JUST GETTING underway, Anna-Marie and
Christopher were dutifully strategizing in the prince’s room in the royal
palace. Dutifully
indeed, this early in the morning.
Christopher examined the
documents on the table before him. “Still think this is the
biggest thorn in our side right now. What about you, Anna-Marie? Anna?”
She sighed. “Do you think Lord Maxwell’s done it?”
“What?”
Christopher
raised an eyebrow. “What’s
gotten into you? You’ve been out of it all day.”
“Huh?
Oh. Sorry. It’s just, well, August, you know?”
Christopher stared at her
dumbly. Anna-Marie’s
eyebrows shot up.
“August.
You know
what that means, don’t you?” she
said.
“Wouldn’t be making this
face if I did.”
“Please don’t tell me you forgot.”
Anna-Marie slammed her
hands on the table and shot to her feet. The prince flinched.
“Are
you kidding me?! How do you not remember August?! It’s not like it’s Romance Fluff Month
or anything!”
Fans
of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths colloquially called the
month of August “Romance Fluff Month.” During the three years in
which the game took place, summer recess served as the player’s only respite
from the main plot, containing no major developments in the battle between the
Saint and the Dark One and offering a free period for romantic side quests.
“And that’s, like, all of
August?” Christopher
asked.
“It’s meant as a sort of
fail-safe for players who get stuck and need an extra few days to boost their
affection with the characters. August is all about romance. The main plot takes a back
seat during the entire month.”
“Oh, I get it. So you’re off in La-La Land now just because it’s summer break.”
“Wh-what’s that supposed
to mean?”
“It means I’m sitting here reading
till my brain oozes out my ears and you’re totally spacing out,” Christopher
said. “We
gotta have that whole butterfly effect conversation again? Here’s the CliffsNotes
version, in case you forgot: This ain’t a game. It’s the real world. We can’t count on
important stuff pausing for us because it’s supposed to be ‘fluff month’ or
whatever.”
Anna-Marie grunted. “I hate when you’re right.” She hung her head. As an otome gamer herself, she tended to get swept up in the world
she’d so loved before all this. Frustrated, she threw her
head back, clutching her hair as she did. “And I hate that I let you be right!”
“I can’t just be right on
my own?” Christopher’s
blood pressure spiked, but he decided to leave it at that. He knew better than to
push his luck with this girl. Too
scary.
Anna-Marie agonized for
several minutes.
“Okay, I’m better,” she
announced eventually.
“Happy for you. Can
we move on now? Great. So the main plot’s not
supposed to progress at all in August. That’s what happens in the
game?”
“Right.
The heroine
will trigger pretty much every romantic subplot she hasn’t already triggered by
that time. Basically
every day. There’s
practically no time to focus on the story, even if the game let you.”
“Every day? That sounds like literal hell in real life. Well, for whoever the
heroine is. Not
that any of that matters if she stays missing.”
“Exactly.
No heroine, no events period.” Anna-Marie collapsed onto
the table.
Christopher watched. Disappointed.
Very disappointed. Was this really the
world’s first line of defense against evil?
“And our substitute
heroine, Luciana, is going home for the summer, so she definitely won’t be
triggering anything with any love interests,” Anna-Marie said with a sigh. “Forget it! Back on topic!”
“You are incomprehensible
today, y’know that?”
Thus, they resumed a more
productive discussion. After they scrounged through the many lore documents they’d assembled,
Maxwell appeared.
“Hard at work, I see,” he
said.
“Max, just the man I
wanted to see,” Christopher said.
“How did it go?” Anna-Marie
asked.
“The offer is on the
table, at the expense of the good lady’s well-being, I fear,” Maxwell said. “She seemed a touch taken
aback. I’m
expecting her answer upon her return.” Maxwell dropped into an
empty chair with a sigh.
Anna-Marie gave him a
worried glance. “Are you
tired?”
“Here.
Have some
tea,” Christopher said. “Drink.”
“Thank you. Both of you,” said Maxwell. “Tired, yes. Mentally
tired. Duplicity
doesn’t seem to come easily to me.”
“I’m sorry, Lord Maxwell. It’s our fault for
putting you up to it,” Anna-Marie said.
“No, I share some of the
blame. You
made a request, and I accepted.”
It had not been his idea
to invite Luciana to the Summer Ball—it had been the royal couple’s. Luciana bore the highest
risk of becoming the substitute heroine and thus needed watching. Potentially guarding. That role fell to Maxwell
at Christopher and Anna-Marie’s request. August was a quiet month,
but that only got them to the Summer Ball, where they expected to encounter a
few crucial plot beats.
Conveniently, however,
Maxwell happened to be the heroine’s canonical dance partner.
“Unfortunately not,”
Anna-Marie said. “It wasn’t even meant to be Luciana whom you escort but the Saint. It’s difficult to say how
events will develop from here.”
“And I appreciate your
being forthcoming about that fact.”
Anna-Marie and
Christopher had explained much of their plight regarding the Saint and the Dark
One to Maxwell, though in terms he could understand. Instead of overloading
their friend’s mental faculties with concepts like parallel worlds and video
games, they claimed they’d seen visions in their dreams. The one rub, they
explained, was that dream and reality had a habit of dissociating. To compensate for the
resulting discrepancies, Luciana had to stand in as Saint for the one who was
missing. Plus,
no one could say how reliable their “visions” were anymore.
Regardless, the lady might
have been in danger. Maxwell didn’t like the sound of acting as her secret monitor at first
but quickly acquiesced for the sake of her safety. So quickly, in fact, that
Anna-Marie’s head had nearly spun.
“I must confess my
doubts,” he had said at the time, “but I cannot deny the existence of this
so-called Dark One. I will go to Lady Luciana and propose she and I attend the ball
together.”
Now we just need her to
accept, Anna-Marie thought.
According to Maxwell’s
description, their chances seemed favorable. Luciana was likely
flustered due to shock and bashfulness rather than aversion.
They couldn’t take their
eyes off her, however. Not while she was the closest thing to a heroine they could find. Anna-Marie still deeply
regretted the easily avoidable events of the previous semester. Though no one had been
hurt, the next event, or the one after that, could be more dangerous. Luciana wasn’t the Saint,
after all, so even a mere mini-boss in the original game could prove a lethally
dangerous foe for a girl like her who lacked the powers to face it.
And this was only the
first act. What of the
others? What
if future events demanded feats she simply could not accomplish?
That’s where Lord Maxwell
is supposed to come in, but still…
Only time would tell if
this gamble would make or break them. Anna-Marie personally
hoped for the former.
“In any case, here’s
hoping your Summer Ball turns out for the better,” she said.
“I assure you, I intend to
make it a memorable one should she reply favorably.”
“Maybe you could make it
official if things go well,” Christopher teased.
Maxwell chortled. “Please.
That may be
the most outlandish claim you’ve made yet.”
Anna-Marie quite approved
of his unwillingness to put up with Christopher’s nonsense. “Still, you’d make quite
the fetching couple, I think.”
“Please, Lady Anna-Marie. Not you too.”
She giggled. “My
apologies. I
do mean what I say, for what it’s worth, but I can appreciate that things may
not be so simple.”
Maxwell’s face turned to
stone. “How is that?”
“Luciana is House
Rudleberg’s firstborn daughter,” she said, unperturbed by Maxwell’s reaction. “Her husband will have to
marry into the family. You, Lord Maxwell, are the firstborn and heir to Marquess Reclentos,
and are thus obligated to adopt a wife into your
family. Your
circumstances are simply incompatible.”
“Wow,” Christopher said. “A little cold, don’t you
think?”
In hindsight, Anna-Marie reluctantly agreed. I did like the ship, but
I guess real life isn’t as permissive as visual novels.
Maxwell simply laughed
and agreed. Their time together at the Spring Ball had mostly been performative
anyway. They
didn’t have the type of relationship that made this sort of revelation painful
to absorb. The
tightness in his chest would pass in time.
And it did. By the time Christopher spoke next, the discomfort had all but
vanished. “Do
you think we’ll see the blonde girl again? Lady Cecilia?” he asked.
Right, Anna-Marie recalled. I nearly forgot about her.
That celestial being. Cecilia.
There and
gone in a blink, leaving behind neither a trace of herself nor a hint to her
identity. The
only clue was her escort: Lectias Froude, the third love interest. According to him, she was
his maid’s relative, but that was all the water anyone could squeeze from that
stone. No
one else had any further information. They didn’t know a thing
about the one called Cecilia. She’d simply descended
upon the world, then ascended just as quickly. Quite like an angel. She’d danced with Luciana
during her brief appearance, and all who’d witnessed it claimed they saw
paradise.
I cannot believe I missed her! she lamented.
The girl bore the
heroine’s name, but she hadn’t been introduced as Count Leginbarth’s daughter,
hadn’t been there when the assailant attacked, and wasn’t even a Royal Academy
student. So who was she? Who was this girl who
seemingly had no place in the narrative? Perhaps the sheer amount
of unanswerable mysteries surrounding her dissuaded Anna-Marie from taking an
interest in her.
She considered pressing
Lect, but her social circle wasn’t acquainted with him well enough for
something so brazen, to say nothing of what others might think about nobility
prying into the affairs of someone Lect claimed was a commoner. Of course, the dreaded
butterfly effect loomed always over their heads anytime the prospect of
meddling occurred to them.
Cecilia needed
investigating regardless, and they intended to do so, but Anna-Marie did not
revel in the prospect. She theorized Cecilia was just another candidate for sub-heroineism,
appearing at the ball merely to fill the gap in the story.
Cecilia: Lect’s partner
for the Spring Ball.
Luciana: the debutante
who would make a splash and daughter to a count.
The deciding factor:
Luciana had stepped in to take a potentially killing blow for the prince,
cementing her as the more appropriate heroine for the plot in that moment. She would then go on to
face Bjork Quichel and the Dark One’s machinations during the academy’s first
semester.
The conclusion was obvious. Luciana was on the heroine
path, and Cecilia was not. Cecilia bore the heroine’s name. That was her only connection.
But her
potential role as heroine began with her sudden appearance and ended just as
abruptly with her departure after the ball.
Like the date Melody and I
went on in the city before, Anna-Marie remembered.
Melody Wave appeared as a
direct result of the staging service Anna-Marie and Christopher had put into
place years ago. Without it, Melody would have never arrived in the capital to serve
under Luciana, and Anna-Marie would never have stumbled upon her during one of
her strolls, disguised as Anna, the plain commoner girl. Anna and Melody had spent
a long while together that day, much like the heroine might have with Prince
Christopher. In fact, their outing had mirrored the event perfectly, but as far as
Anna-Marie saw, Melody displayed zero traits that might mark her as the true
heroine.
This was one of several
events that gave rise to Anna-Marie’s substitute heroine theory. Which was, of course,
developed in blissful ignorance of the actual identity of the maid who’d
inspired it. Oh, the
dramatic irony.
“Max, you saw her, didn’t
you?” Christopher said. “We’d just missed her. What was Cecilia like?”
“Well, yes, I did see her
in the most literal sense, but only briefly while she was resting. I’m afraid I can’t speak
to her person beyond a cursory glance.”
“You danced near her
during the same-sex dance, didn’t you? Didn’t you catch her face?” Christopher asked.
Maxwell smiled crookedly. “I was unfortunately
battling against muscle memory at the time while dancing the lady’s part. I remember very little
about the girl, really.”
“You didn’t even try to check
her out?” Christopher
shook his head. “What kind of a man are you, Max?”
Anna-Marie fixed
Christopher with an icy glare. “What kind indeed? You must tell me all about your views on masculinity later, Your
Highness. In private.”
“Huh?
Er, no,
that’s quite all right.”
“I-I wouldn’t worry about
it, Anna-Marie. Really. It’s not important. Put it out of your mind.”
“It is not jealousy,”
Christopher and Anna-Marie said as one.
On the surface, one might
be inclined to believe that this was an incredibly in-sync couple.
Me? Jealous? Over him? Get
real. Get actually so
real.
Internally, however, they
were certainly on very different wavelengths.
Her? Jealous? Over me? Get
real. Like she’s that
cute.
A shame that onlookers
could only base their assumptions on what they observed on the surface. Otherwise, the entire
kingdom would surely never draw the conclusion that these two were practically betrothed.
Such a
lovely couple they make, Maxwell thought most
erroneously.
Perhaps they were simply
too good at their roles and had oversold the act. Perhaps they were just
eternally unlucky. In any case, it did not seem they’d free themselves from this
uncomfortable misunderstanding anytime soon.
Maxwell’s presence
quickly derailed the strategy meeting.
“My personal affairs
aside,” he said, “we’ll have to wait for her return before we do anything. What were you two
discussing earlier?”
“Defeating it? Does a man capable of such a feat exist in this realm?”
“Not in our realm,” said
Christopher. “He’ll make his first appearance at the ball, then join Royal Academy
as a transfer student.”
“He’s a foreigner then? But from where?”
“His name is Schroden. Schroden van Rordpier,”
Anna-Marie said. “He is the second son to the emperor of our northern neighbors.”
“The Rordpier Empire?! An imperial prince is
coming to Royal Academy? How is that possible? We’re—”
“On less than friendly
terms, yes,” Christopher sighed.
Two countries bordered
the Kingdom of Theolas, one to the north and one to the west. Theolas enjoyed amicable
relations with their westerly neighbor, but not so with the northern Rordpier
Empire. The
war that raged between the two kingdoms over a century ago left relations
strained to this day. A tentative nonaggression pact maintained a fragile peace, but it was
only a matter of time before the Rordpiers lost their patience.
Only at the emperor’s
request could the first true steps toward political reparations begin. So for the sake of future
relations, the second prince of Rordpier would attend Royal Academy as a show
of good faith.
Christopher relayed all of
this to his companion.
“How I hope you’re right,
but it sounds too good to be true.” Maxwell furrowed his brow. He glanced at Anna-Marie.
She shook her head. “It
is true. Our
dreams told us the imperial court intends to use him as a plant, of sorts. An advance party to
prepare for an eventual invasion.”
“His primary role is to
use me to gather information,” Christopher said. “You can never have too
much information, especially from a royal whom you’re planning to oust.”
Maxwell swallowed hard. This time, he hoped they
were wrong. This would cause turmoil for the kingdom, perhaps even all-out war. Sweat prickled the back
of his neck. “This
‘Schroden.’ I
don’t know much about him. Who is
he?”
“A very handsome man,”
Anna-Marie said. “Porcelain skin as pure and white as fallen snow, hair as bright as the
sun, a muscular build which I’m sure his hawkish relatives hold in high esteem,
piercing, golden eyes that see through everything. He is a man as cold as the
land he calls home.”
“And sharp as a knife. Cunning.
Strategy is
his forte,” Christopher added. “Honestly, I’m no match
for him.”
“That you of all people
should say so,” said Maxwell. “He sounds like a
dangerous man.”
“It’s entirely possible
that one slipup could turn our greatest asset into our greatest enemy,” said
Anna-Marie. “That’s the kind of man we’re dealing with.”
Schroden van Rordpier, she thought. The fifth and final love
interest of The Silver Saint and the
Five Oaths!
A beat of silence descended. The quiet fueled the
anxiety bubbling up in Maxwell.
“I think you’re right,”
Christopher said. “Or would be right, rather.” He crossed his arms over
his chest and grunted.
Anna-Marie rested her
cheek in her hand and frowned.
The tension crackling in
the air had vanished in an instant, and Maxwell was left wondering where it had
gone. He
looked between the pair before him. “What?
What’s the problem?”
“Is
it a problem?” Christopher
wondered aloud.
“That is a good question,”
Anna-Marie said.
“What does that mean? Would one of you be so
kind as to talk plainly?” Maxwell
said.
The knowers exchanged a
glance and sighed. Then Christopher explained. “We haven’t received any
notice of intent yet regarding the transfer.”
“The prince’s? The prince’s transfer to the academy?”
“His stay is set to begin
next month, so the fact that we’ve heard nothing is concerning,” Anna-Marie
said. “The
kingdom hasn’t received even a single word about it.”
I was on tenterhooks just
earlier, Maxwell thought. Wasn’t I?
He faced them dead-on. He could hold his tongue
no longer. “Lest
you misunderstand, I trust the both of you wholeheartedly, but these visions of
yours, they’re not very helpful, are they?”
“You’re not supposed to
say that part out loud!” Christopher and Anna-Marie snapped as one.
First the heroine, Anna-Marie thought, now the fifth love interest? Hasn’t the butterfly
effect had its fill of us yet?
It was a funny thing,
lamenting the loss of a foreign prince and a spy from a nation of warmongers
who had their eyes set on conquest. A little silly, maybe. But the further from the
original narrative they deviated, the less Anna-Marie and Christopher could
anticipate events.
Chapter 6:
Shaking Shell, Shaking Tail
“SO THIS IS HOW IT LOOKS
OUTSIDE THE kingdom!”
Micah couldn’t take her
eyes off the scenery rolling past them. It was a far cry from the
slums she’d found herself in months ago, that was for sure.
“Is this your first time
leaving the city?” Luciana
asked.
“It
is! I’ve
never seen anything like this. It’s breathtaking.”
“Yes!
It is!”
Wide open fields
stretched as far as the eye could see. The road ahead of them
extended all the way to the horizon with sprawling oceans of golden wheat
stalks flanking it on either side, rippling like waves with the breeze. This particular variety,
planted in autumn, grew throughout winter. It was just about harvest
season.
Beyond, the gold gave way
to the green of grassland. Beyond that, a verdant woodland sprang up. And farther still, the
hazy blue peaks of distant mountains loomed. Growing up in modern
Japan, Micah had rarely witnessed such abundant nature, mostly experiencing
such things via a monitor. This unfiltered, unspoiled sight moved her beyond words, much to the
confusion of native-born Luciana.
The wonder in her
underling’s eyes warmed Melody’s heart. She, too, hailed from
Japan, but after being reborn into this world, she’d grown up in a rural
village far from Paltescia, the royal capital. She managed to contain
herself, though she understood the urge to gush. Mostly.
“Micah, your manners,”
Melody reminded her. She was a maid first, always.
“S-sorry.
Whoa!” Just as Micah sat properly
back down in her seat, a flash gleamed from her chest. “Wh-what was that?”
She fished the pendant
out of her shirt. The little winged egg glowed with a faint, silver light. The Uovo del Mago, her
ticket to sorcery.
“That scared me. Miss Melody, what happened?” she asked.
“It reacted to you. Whatever you felt, it was
intense enough for the egg to respond.”
“I wish it would learn to
stop doing that in front of people. It’s embarrassing.”
As the light slowly
faded, Micah scrunched her nose at the ornament. At least they were in the
carriage. She
didn’t want to think about this thing someday going off in town.
“I’d really like to leave
it alone at this stage, but I do understand the concern,” Melody said. “I suppose I can have a
look at it.”
She touched a finger to
the egg, drawing a silvery magic circle. The trinket changed as
she traced it from top to bottom. Then, when she closed the
circle, the whole ornament vanished.
“Wow, that looked so cool
and…magicy!” Micah said. Whatever Melody had done,
the result shocked her out of her wonderment. “What did you just—”
Micah gasped. “It shook! The pendant shook!” The Uovo del Mago
trembled as if in response. “What did you do, Miss Melody?”
“I can’t completely stop
it from reacting, but I set it to manifest those reactions as movement rather
than light. I felt you’d prefer that to noise.”
“Y-you felt right. This is much better than either of those. Thank you.”
The words “Silent Mode”
sprang to Micah’s mind. The egg shook at that. Cheeky little thing.
“Oh, is that the magic
item you gave her, Melody?” Luciana leaned in to get
a better look. “Something’s supposed to hatch from it, right? I can’t wait to see what.”
“I’m just hoping it’s
something decently presentable,” Micah said, mouth twisting with anxiety.
“That is the one thing I
can’t know until it’s born, I’m afraid.” Melody grinned
apologetically.
“What I’d really like is
maybe a cute puppy like Grail!”
“Oh, I can get behind that!” Luciana said. “Grail would love a
friend to play with, I’m sure.”
The lady and the
maid-in-training saw it in their mind’s eyes. Two little pups yipping
and barking and dashing through the estate’s garden.
“Or what if this one were
bigger? Then
Grail could ride around on its back!” Micah said.
“I like that idea. Hugging both at once would be just perfect. I know it,” Luciana said.
“But then again, a cat
would make for a great pair too!”
“That it would. Melody, how long until Micah’s egg hatches?”
“It’s hardly been ten
days,” the maid said. “I wouldn’t expect it until next month at the very earliest.”
The overgrown children
moaned in disappointment.
Melody couldn’t help
smiling at their antics. “Patience, everyone. I’m sure Grail could use
the attention… Speaking of, where is he?”
How sad an existence Grail
was. Originally
the all-powerful and intimidating antagonist of The
Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, now he lived as a
domesticated pup, purified by Melody’s holy magics—neutered, if you will. Luciana had insisted on
taking him in so she could brag to everyone back home about their new pet.
“Grail?
He’s with Rook,”
Micah said.
Melody twisted to see
behind her, where Rook sat in the driver’s seat. Micah sat beside her, and
Luciana occupied her own seat across from them. A small window was set in
the space dividing the interior of the carriage from the coachman’s seat to
allow communication between the sections. Melody peered through it
and spied a shaking silver tail tipped with black.
“Oh.
Well, there he
is,” she said. “But why
out there? He’d
be far more comfortable inside where the spell can soften the bumps in the
road.”
“It has been a smooth trip so
far,” Micah commented absently.
“Very smooth. The highways near the capital are well maintained, but still, you
wouldn’t know we were moving if you didn’t look out the window.” Luciana’s eyes glazed over. “Smooth indeed.”
She and the
maid-in-training were of one mind. Grateful, but not without
the prerequisite amount of incredulity Melody’s displays of magic always
necessitated.
I’ve known dogs to get
carsick rather easily, Melody thought. Maybe he prefers the fresh
air.
The stub of tail shook
some more.
While Melody was off in
her own world, Micah said, “Rook grabbed him. He was sound asleep in
his basket after breakfast.”
“I’d completely forgotten
about him in all the commotion,” said Luciana.
“Me
too. Grail
apparently slept with Rook last night, so I suppose that helped him remember.”
“He’s sleeping in Rook’s
room these days? I thought he’d settled on yours.”
“That was the original
arrangement, but it seems he’s taken more to Rook.”
“So it seems. Rook’s practically the only one he lets near him anymore.” Micah sighed,
disillusioned by the fickleness of puppy love.
Luciana giggled. “He’s
just a baby. I’m sure it’s only a matter of him being curious about new people.”
Her lady giggled again. The tail outside the
little window shook. And
Melody smiled.
The coach rolled
leisurely along the highway. The road was relatively
empty for the area, likely on account of the late hour. Nature dominated the
expanse that lay ahead. Tittering and high-pitched chatter in the back of the carriage slipped
out to reach the box seat.
Had it been human, this
might have been a soothing experience. A shame that Grail had to
soak in the scenery with a furry scowl.
Preposterous,
the Dark One spat from
within its puppy-shaped prison. Preposterous! That I should accompany these people on their foolish little trip!
The puppy hadn’t had a
say in the matter. One moment he was asleep, the next, blue skies trundled overhead. No one extended Grail the
courtesy of forewarning. A shame that none of the Rudlebergs were the type to inform animals of
their plans for the day. Not that Grail would have known beforehand. He did little other than
sleep when he wasn’t eating.
What is the meaning of
this indignity?!
Grail sat in his little
basket, wagging his tail in a fuming rage while the Dark One lurking inside him
contemplated how things could have possibly come to this. Things had been going
quite well up until a certain point. The Dark One had escaped
its centuries-long internment, a parting gift from the previous Saint, and
found a vessel to do its bidding. Then, suddenly, it lived
as a mangy pup living in a dog-eat-dog world. It enjoyed free, tasty
meals, ample attention and entertainment, shelter, and a comfortable bed. Oh, the horror!
That was the problem, though.
The comfort. It was a silken rope
around its neck, slowly killing everything the Dark One had once been. Grail, curse his natural
adorableness, spat on the Dark One’s pride every time he did normal puppy
things and thus endeared himself to the filthy humans!
Despicable.
Degrading. It must be part of that
Saint’s scheme!
With how little of its
dark power remained, the Dark One could not fight the urges and feelings of its
cutesy vessel. It was in control now, but the smallest shift could tilt the scales,
leaving the ancient evil powerless to keep the damned beast from taking over
again.
I can’t be around her or
her lackeys, but damn it all…
Melody was a given. It could not risk being
near her. And
that went for her doll Serena as well. And then there were the
Rudlebergs. The Dark One had not had good experiences with them either at the
Spring Ball. So that left the Dark One with only one bastion of hope: the new girl
Micah, the maid-in-training.
Damn it all, why did she
have to don that silver rubbish filled with the Saint’s power?! Micah, you have betrayed me!
Grail angrily rubbed his
face with his itty-bitty paws.
That accursed Saint had
gone too far. She’d stolen away the Dark One’s sole bastion of respite. No one could understand
its pain but itself. The Dark One’s last hope lay with the man in the driver’s seat, Rook.
If the Saint somehow gets
her dastardly talons into him as well…I may not be long for this world.
A dramatic choice of words. The true risk was in
Grail regaining the mental reins to his own body, while the Dark One
hibernated. But it might never wake up again if its pride were so thoroughly
shattered, and it would take a pillar of Grail’s mind with it in the process.
A great big warm hand
descended on the puppy. Rook stroked Grail’s back, and Grail did not resist. He yielded to it.
Strange that this body
finds something so mundane so…nice.
This was not the mad
delight the Dark One generally experienced while wielding its human puppets. This was comfortable, if
strange. Both
were positive emotions, however, were they not? So why was it that this
sensation, in the body of a pup, proved so preferable to the human version?
The Dark One looked up
and met the eyes of the man stroking it. Rook wore no emotion on
his face, but the gentleness of his touch conveyed plenty.
If he knew… If this man
knew who I was, would he still stroke me so?
Its mind faded. The host’s body demanded sleep. Grail drooped, falling
swiftly asleep and taking with him the Dark One and all the thoughts clawing at
its mind. Thoughts
it could not yet comprehend—not while Grail provided such a convenient escape
from the changes occurring within the Dark One itself.
Chapter
7:
And Rook, You Shall Be
I
EXPECTED MORE OF A FUSS, ROOK THOUGHT, brushing his hand
through the sleeping Grail’s fur. But he’s awfully calm.
The pup slept all through
the first leg of the journey. When he awoke, he did so
with twitchy eyes and a big stretch before apparently realizing where he was. Rather, where he was not. The
pup seemed confused for a moment, if the dramatic thrashing and rolling around
in his basket were anything to judge by.
The thrashing lasted only
a short time before the puppy calmed and started wagging his tail and leering
at the scenery. Tail wags were supposed to be signs of trust or contentedness, but Rook
found himself doubting that common knowledge when it came to this particular
pup. He
could not imagine what burdened the poor fellow’s mind, so he settled for
petting him and hoping for the best. It wasn’t long before
Grail went right back to sleep.
Rook patted him twice,
then faced forward again. He gripped the reins and squinted, scanning the surroundings. It took him only a moment
to assess their safety.
His mind was free to
wander, and so it did. Who am I, I wonder, to have these abilities?
He’d performed far more
than a cursory survey just now. He’d concentrated mana in
his eyes, amplifying his sight and allowing him to discern minor objects he
might otherwise miss. According to Micah, this ability was special. But then, Melody had done
it herself with relative ease, so maybe Micah wasn’t a trustworthy source.
Rook glanced at the sword
on his hip. He’d never wielded a weapon before—to his knowledge, at least—but the
blade felt like a natural extension of his arm. Magic was similarly
foreign to him, but under Melody’s instruction, he’d picked up on the basics
almost instantly. He could do little more than suffuse mana into various objects, such as
a blade, or move it to different places in his body, such as his eyes or
muscles, but something told him spell casting would come to him before long.
Rook must not have been
as unfamiliar with these things as he’d initially thought. Sword and sorcery were in
his past. Somewhere. The mind could forget,
but the body remembered. And that left him wondering.
I may be “Rook” now, but
for how long?
One of the few things he
remembered was the birth of that man—Rook, the valet-in-training. It was his oldest memory. And it was from just two
weeks ago.
He blinked his eyes open. It took several tries to
bring the world into focus, but that did not reveal much about his location.
Where am I? His thoughts arrived
sluggish and slow. The ceiling, the walls, the bed—the girl resting next to it. He recognized none of it. Who is this? Who…am I?
Was this amnesia a side
effect of whatever had happened to him to place him in this bed? Humorous that he could
conjure a word for his condition but not his own name.
Ceiling.
Window. Wall, he recited. Sky. Sun. Bed. Blanket. Table. Chair… I know these words.
Language and recognition
came to him without trouble. So what
didn’t he know? The economy. He knew the word but not the concept. The country he was in? Its currency? The relative value of
different coins? He did not know those things either.
He sat up, a curtain of hair obscuring his vision. Well, that’s annoying. I didn’t always keep it
like this, did I?
He couldn’t say. But neither did he possess a memory of short hair to use as a point of
comparison.
The man brushed his hair
back and swung his feet to the floor, careful not to disturb the girl resting
her head on the bed. Instantly, a sense of wrongness itched at him. But why? Nothing seemed
immediately out of the ordinary.
He ignored the feeling
and stood. “What—”
With a heavy thud, he
toppled to the ground. Pain. Not in his knees,
thankfully, as he’d caught himself just in time, but pain nonetheless.
What had just happened? All he’d done was try to
stand.
He reached out to support
himself against the frame of the bed, but he dashed past it and grabbed the
blanket instead. Realizing this too late, he collapsed back to the floor, taking the
blanket with him. Again, he managed to avoid any serious damage, tucking his chin to
protect his head from the impact, but yet more pain shot through him.
As the blanket slid away,
the girl bolted awake. “Huwha?! Wh-what—huh?” She gaped down at him
while he lay flat on his back on the floor. An awkward silence
stretched between them. “What
are you doing?”
“I tried to stand but
lost my balance. I tried again, but my hand went past the frame and I grabbed the
blanket instead. So I fell
again.”
“Oh.
I think I get the
picture. Let’s get you back in bed, shall we?”
The man did not refuse,
though the simple task took a great deal of doing. Just getting him to his
feet without toppling over again was an achievement.
The girl chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, maybe.”
The man didn’t understand. He could not possibly
intuit that a sudden growth spurt had thrown off all of his muscle memory and
kinesthetic sense.
When he made it to the
edge of the bed, the man sat and appraised the girl in the chair in front of
him. She
didn’t look older than ten. She wore her pink hair in
little tufts and dressed in a maid uniform.
He didn’t remember her,
at least. Of that,
he was certain. Inexplicably, though, his eyes fell to her hand as though drawn there
by some force.
She extended it, so he took it. His own engulfed hers. I thought maybe I did know
her. Maybe I don’t. I don’t remember this
hand being so small.
The connection eluded him. He could not know that her
hand only felt so small because his had gotten larger.
“You’re, um, embarrassing
me,” the girl said.
He released her, then
stared at his palm. Another thing he didn’t recognize.
Has it always been like this?
I don’t remember. I just can’t recall.
“Are you okay?” the
girl asked.
“Does anything feel funny
or different?”
“Oh.
Off?”
“You.
I don’t recognize you.
Who are you?”
The girl’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding! You forgot me?! Er, wait, did I ever even
tell you my name?”
“I don’t remember myself
either. Neither
my face nor my name. Who am I?”
“You didn’t lead with that?! That’s a little more
important! Miss Melody!” The girl shot to her feet
and scurried out of the room.
That was perhaps his one
definite impression of the girl. But something about her
left him smirking as she exited, leaving the door ajar.
The one called Melody,
presumably her superior, appeared a short while later and conducted a thorough
examination. Other than his memories, she declared him in good health but said she
did not know if those memories would ever return. He found the entire
performance fairly redundant.
“My name’s Micah!” the girl from before said. “And don’t forget me this
time.”
The man found himself at
an impasse. He
couldn’t very well introduce himself without an identity. Without a name.
“True,” said Melody. “That could get inconvenient.” She rested her cheek
against her hand and cocked her head to the side.
“Let’s make an identity
for him! How’s,
uh, Buh… Bor… Rook. Rook!” Micah said.
“Rook.
That sounds
like a fine name to me, but where did you come up with it?” Melody asked.
The man tested it out on
his own tongue. “Rook.”
The girl’s methodology
could use some work. Names did not seem to him the kinds of things one simply “made up” on
the spot. But
this one didn’t offend him. He found that he quite liked it.
Maybe I’ve imprinted. Like beasts do.
Micah was the first
person he saw upon waking up. Somehow, it felt fitting
that she should be the one to christen him with identity.
“That work for you, Rook?” she said.
The man sighed. She had taken to it before he had a chance to settle his own feelings
on the matter. “All right. Fine. I
will be—”
He jumped. Rook turned toward the window behind him, where Micah was poking her
head out from inside the carriage.
“Miss Melody wants to
have lunch soon, so stop us at the next clearing.”
Open rest areas dotted
busy highways like this one, providing a place for travelers to stop and rest. Micah must have meant for
them to stop at one.
“Understood, but couldn’t
she tell me that herself?”
“No, because I wanted to
try the little window.” Micah
snickered.
Melody chuckled somewhere
inside the carriage, and Rook sighed. “Next clearing. Noted.”
Micah shut the window,
and muffled conversation soon resumed within the carriage.
That childish girl is the
one who gave me my name. Well, children do tend to be childish.
Rook had quite the young
godmother. He
could only laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Chapter 8:
Camping with the Works
THE KINGDOM OF THEOLAS’S DOMINION formed an upside-down
triangle occupying the eastern corner of the continent. To the west lay the
friendly Kingdom of Hemnates, and to the north the belligerent Rordpiers. Theolas’s commercial hub
bordered the southern ocean, while the world’s largest blightland, the Great
Vanargand Wood, forever loomed directly to the east.
The royal family and
three margraves, whose four houses were some of the oldest in the realm and
originated long before written record, oversaw these four crucial areas. Margrave Avarenton
safeguarded the western border while Margrave Schudevich monitored the north. At the southern maritime
capital, Margrave Wonberry stood watch. To the east, House
Theolas constantly observed the Great Vanargand Wood. Dukes technically held
the highest authority among nobles, coming just below royalty, and four such
dukes lived in Theolas. But even their families had to concede to the margraves in both lineage
and political relevance. For all intents and purposes, in times of emergency, the margraves
wielded the power.
Vast highways connected
their lands, the marches, at each cardinal direction with the royal capital,
forming the primary arteries of the kingdom’s trade and commerce. Its people called it the
Cross, and it had served as the testing ground for Christopher’s budding
staging service.
Melody and her companions
presently traveled westbound on the Cross. About three days out,
they would come to the road’s titular crossing, where they would turn northward
until branching off into one of the many capillaries that snaked from the main
highway. That
would take them straight to the Rudlebergs’ home county—a five-day journey in
all.
Because the Cross was the
kingdom’s primary trade route, designated stage stations lay at regular
intervals along each each of its stretches so weary travelers could rest at
inns. With
proper planning, one could avoid camping outdoors even during a lengthy
journey.
The maid hummed in thought. “This…is a predicament.”
Melody frowned at the map. The sky was deepening
from vermilion to indigo on its way to inky black, but they were nowhere near
the first stage station. They sat stopped at the edge of the highway, weighing their options.
“The stage stations lock
up after dark, right?”
“Yes, that’s right, my lady. I’m afraid we may not
make it in time.”
Practically every
settlement in Theolas, from Paltescia itself to the humblest villages, boasted
some sort of outer wall. Partly this protected them from bandits, but mostly it repelled the
monsters that would sometimes emerge from the blightlands. There was no killing the
horrors without mana, be that in the form of a magically enhanced blade or a
simple spell, so towns and villages often lacked the means to fight back. Nighttime made the
creatures especially violent, and thus most settlements shut their gates before
dark.
This was not to say
monster sightings were a particularly common occurrence. Very few blightland beasts wandered far from their birthplace, but
nightly lockdowns persisted as a tradition, a remnant of the past. A fairly obnoxious one in
situations like Melody’s. Once closed, those gates wouldn’t open for the gods themselves.
“Will we have to camp
outside tonight?” Micah asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Luciana. “This is my fault for
getting myself into a tizzy this morning.”
“You’ve nothing to
apologize for,” Melody insisted. “Isn’t that right, Micah?”
“Nothing at all, my lady. If anything, we ought to
pry a few reparations from that tactless Lord Maxwell Reclentos.”
Maxwell’s invitation to
the Summer Ball, and the lengthy interrogation Luciana’s friends launched
afterward, delayed their departure by three hours. They’d traveled as
quickly as they could, but it was simply too much time to make up.
“If we’re camping, we
should probably start setting up soon,” Micah pointed out.
Luciana peered outside
the window. “Yeah,
before it gets dark.”
The sun had already
vanished below the spiky ridge of the mountains, swiftly giving way to indigo.
Melody nodded as she
assessed the sky. “We’ll settle here for tonight, then. Rook, could you remove us
from the road?”
She called to him through
the window in the carriage, and Rook gently rolled the carriage into an open
pasture. Luciana
and Micah hopped out to take down their camping equipment before surrendering
the task to the much more vertically gifted Rook. Meanwhile, Melody
surveyed the area for a suitable place to set up.
Somewhere flat and in the
open, she repeated in her mind. Ah, this could work.
It was a ways away from
the road, but so long as they cleaned up after, it would do just fine.
Melody turned to find
Micah rushing toward her.
“It’s the luggage! We didn’t pack a tent! What do we do now?!” Micah
asked.
“Oh, that’s all right. A tent wasn’t on the list.”
“What?!
Why not?! How are we supposed to
camp without a tent?”
Melody chuckled. “I’ll
show you. Let’s head back.”
“Uh, I really don’t like
how you’re laughing.”
When they returned to the
coach, Luciana blurted, “What do we do, Melody? We can’t all sleep in the
carriage. There’s
not enough room.”
“Not to worry, my lady. We won’t need to resort to
that.”
“We won’t? Then
what are we doing?”
Another suggestive chuckle. “Firstly, I’ll need to
borrow your basket, Grail.”
The pup yipped as Melody
removed him from his perch in the driver’s seat by the scruff of his neck. Melody paid no mind to
the confused onlookers as she shoved her hand deep into his makeshift bed.
“While I see to
preparations,” she said, “please relax yourself, my lady. Micah, if you’ll pour some
tea.”
From the basket, Melody
pulled a fully formed round, wooden table and a cabriole-legged chair with a
plush cushion. Placing those on the grass, she dove her hand back in to discover a tea
set. Warm
liquid already sloshed in the glass pot.
This was Melody’s own
personal cupboard, and it did not obey the rules of time and space. Naturally, this meant
instant tea, whenever and wherever. She’d made sure to have a
pot ready for the long trip.
“Oh, thank you, Melody!” Luciana said. “I’d love a cup, Micah.”
“I… Yes, my lady,” Micah
said. “You’ve
adapted, I see.”
Micah, however, was still
struggling with the sight of a portable teatime springing fully formed from a
basket. She
was not surprised, exactly—more so disappointed that she wasn’t surprised.
On the opposite end of
things, Luciana had transitioned comfortably into the acceptance stage. Melody could summon
tables and chairs and tea out of nothing? Of course she could. It would be silly to
presume otherwise. Rook, meanwhile, lacked any point of comparison for this absurdity and
simply continued to haul luggage down from the roof of the carriage.
“Miss Melody, why do you
need Grail’s basket for this?” Micah asked. “Is it some kind of limitation on the spell?”
Micah assumed Melody had
no need of such trivial objects for her magic. What was stopping her
from forming a black hole out of thin air and pulling things through that? The basket introduced all
sorts of physical inconveniences.
Melody raised her
eyebrows incredulously. “Because it would be utterly ridiculous to create something out of
nothing. Remember
this, Micah: Appearances are everything.”
“And pulling tables and
chairs from baskets is less ridiculous?!”
On her first day at the
Rudleberg estate, upon learning of their tragic lack of uniforms, Melody had
created her own then and there. She could teleport with
the Ovunque Porta spell, but she could not bring along her mistress or her
family, as only servants used such pathways. She could create infinite
space within pocket dimensions but would only do so via physical objects like
baskets or pockets. She was Melody, defender of many hills, a woman of appearances.
She could do away with her
self-inflicted handicaps at any time. But she wouldn’t.
Melody tilted her head at Micah’s comment. Is it that strange? I’d expect a world of
magic to be more accepting of things like that.
She did not know. Even now, she did not comprehend the sheer difference in scale of her
perception compared to Micah’s.
“Anyway, if you’ll take
care of Lady Luciana,” she said, “I’ll get things fixed up here.”
“I don’t even want to know
what ‘fixed up’ means to you, but I’ll ask anyway. What’s the plan exactly?”
“Making us a place to
sleep for the night, of course. One become many—Alter Ego.”
Suddenly, there were
eleven Melodys.
Luciana peeped and
flinched like electricity shocked her.
“My lady?” said Micah. “Are you okay?”
“F-fine, thank you. She just surprised me.”
Here was the one thing
Luciana would never get used to. Alter Ego was special,
having left an indelible mark upon her psyche as the first of Melody’s
shenanigans that she’d ever witnessed.
“Listen up,” main Melody
announced. “I’ll
start bringing out materials. You all begin construction.”
“Yes, madam!” the ten Melodys resounded.
Melody held the basket
with two hands and pointed it at the clones. Cleanly trimmed and
treated logs began to fly out of it, thumping heavily onto the soft pasture
grass.
Micah and Luciana stared,
mouths agape. Luciana’s cup of tea hung in the air, halfway to her lips, and there it
endlessly hovered.
Four Melodys spread out
to different positions, held their hands up, and chanted. They sheared the grass
away, and the land rose, forming a perfectly flat, miniature plateau. The other Melodys began
working the logs and transforming the earth into a foundation. It was almost musical,
the way the clones bustled here and there, pounding this and that, scrambling
like ants on fast-forward, with the main Melody as the conductor.
Melody held her arms out,
proudly presenting the final product. “Here we are! Your camping cottage, my lady.”
“‘Camping,’” Luciana and
Micah said together.
Their incredulity didn’t shake Melody’s pride in a
job well done. This was no mere renovation like with the estate. I built this from the
ground up! This elation. This fulfillment! This is what it means to be a
maid!
Her sample size may have
been somewhat lacking.
“A-at least it’s better
than sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Right, Micah?” Luciana
said.
“O-of course, my lady. Right you are. Let’s focus on the positives.”
The lady and the
maid-in-training gazed upon the work in awe. A two-story building made
entirely of polished wood suddenly stood before them. “Cottage” was a good word
for it because it was certainly no primitive lean-to. The stripped lumber could
have belonged to any stately cabin at a ritzy campsite, and it even came with a
stable for the horse.
“Miss Melody, where did
you get the wood for this?” Micah
asked.
“Deforestation! She’s de-wooded the Wood! Er,
ahem.”
While not quite at a loss
for words, Micah could not believe her ears. This work of art was made
of lumber from none other than that greatest of blighted hinterlands: the Great
Vanargand Wood.
“Don’t worry, Micah,”
Melody said. “I harvested carefully, so as not to disturb the ecosystem. In fact, I’m confident
the forest will be even healthier as a result.”
“That’s even more concerning.
You’re sure we’ll
be okay? We
won’t be cursed, will we?”
“Cursed?
Why, I shouldn’t
think so. The
lumber is sturdy enough that it ought to protect us from anything, even an
earthquake.”
Blightlands, being areas
of high mana concentration, gave rise not just to monsters but diverse flora as
well. Manawood—magically
dense trees of exceptional sturdiness found nowhere else in the world—made for
a particularly attractive target for the timber industry, despite the risks. Naturally, such a product
didn’t come cheap, and the richer in mana the blightland, the higher the price
the wood would fetch.
“Miss Melody, can you
conceal this with your magic?” Micah asked.
“Do
it! Do it now! Pronto! On the double!”
“I-if you say so. Hide—Trasparenza.” A shimmering blanket of nothing drifted down over the cottage,
obscuring it from view.
“There.
I’ve cast a
transparency spell around the vicinity of the cottage so it’s only visible to
those within a certain distance. It wouldn’t exactly do to
make it invisible to us.”
Micah stepped outside the
boundary of the spell and uttered a dumb, amazed huh when, indeed, the
cottage vanished. Even the shaved grass appeared regrown. Everything was as it should
be, nothing out of the ordinary. Clearly, Melody had cast
no mere invisibility spell but a perfect camouflage. Micah couldn’t complain
about the results and yet still fought back the urge to say something about all
this.
With everyone’s worries
satisfied, Melody guided them all inside for a proper introduction.
“Lamplight—Luce.” Several orbs of light flew from Melody’s palm, zipping to a number of
candlesticks scattered about the place and instantly illuminating them. “This is the living room. Everyone feel free to
make yourselves at home here. Down the hall, you’ll
find the kitchen and restroom, complete with a bathtub. Each of us has our own
room on the second floor. Lastly, I request that you remove your shoes before entering.”
Everyone did as she asked
and changed into slippers before passing through the mudroom into the cottage
proper. Melody
might not have done the living room justice in its size. There was a wide couch,
big enough to fit Rook with room to spare, and a low coffee table. Above, a vaulted ceiling
opened up to the second floor and lent the room a sense of immense scale.
The stairs leading to the
bedrooms hugged the side wall. The hallway they occupied
overlooked the floor below, separated only by a railing.
“You’ve explained the
house itself well enough, Melody, but where did you get the couch and
slippers?” Luciana asked.
The wooden embellishments
and furnishings made enough sense, but everything else raised numerous
questions as to its origin and sourcing. The furniture and
slippers in particular looked made to order. Perhaps Melody had ordered
them and stored them in her pocket dimension ahead of time, but then where had
she gotten them from?
“I made them,” she
answered simply.
“You what?” her lady and pupil said in unison.
They glanced down at
their slippers, fluffy, comfy, and plush. They turned next to the
sofa, where Rook tested the cushions. It seemed to support him
well, with just enough give. They made mental notes to
try it themselves later.
The question deserved
repeating.
“I made them,” Melody
answered. “It
was something of a, um, fantasy of mine, my lady. To build a little retreat
for you to relax in one day.” Melody fidgeted, cheeks
reddening. “So
I fashioned the furnishings myself in my free time.”
“You made all this in your
free time?”
“Yes, my lady. I found these curious, cattle-like creatures in my usual forest, and it
occurred to me that they might make excellent leather. My estimations proved true.”
“I’m remembering that
really delicious steak we had for dinner one time,” Micah said.
“Oh, I remember that too. It really was something,
wasn’t it?” Luciana agreed.
“I still have some left,
as a matter of fact,” said Melody. “Shall we do that for
dinner tonight?”
The dining room and
kitchen lay at the back of the living room, as Melody had said. The bath and restroom were
just down at the end of the hallway. In the kitchen, the group
would find all the necessities, from cutlery to cookware, and the same went for
the bathroom, which contained washbasins and soap and anything else one might
need.
“You spared no effort,
Miss Melody,” Micah said. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Is all of this your
doing as well?” Luciana
asked.
“It is, my lady,” Melody
confirmed. “All in my
free time. It was
a bit of a project.”
What free time? thought Micah. Her teacher rarely took
even a few minutes for herself. Even on her days off, she
wore her uniform. Micah could not fathom being that dedicated and still having time for a
hobby, especially after the trials and tribulations she’d gone through just to
learn the bare minimum requirements of her job.
“What about water?” Luciana
went on. “We don’t
have a well.”
“We’ll simply have to
make do with my magic, but please, don’t be shy, my lady.”
“Oh, good. But where does all that water for the bath and toilet go?”
Theolas did not enjoy any
indoor plumbing, instead making use of commonplace magic items popularized by
an old mage from long ago. Theolan toilets did indeed flush, but what about the one in the
cottage? How did toilets away from
civilization work?
“Wastewater will travel
through pipes to a tank underground,” Melody said. “The tank will magically
break down its contents and gradually disperse it into the soil. Rest assured, I’ve
considered every detail.”
“You really can do
anything, Miss Melody,” said Micah. “And I see you’re as
unflappable as ever, my lady.”
Just moments earlier,
Luciana had been as dumbfounded as Micah. She was quick to accept
the reality of the situation.
“I can’t go on being
unappreciative, can I? Melody built all this for me, and that makes me happy!”
Melody giggled. “You’re too kind, my lady.”
“They do say honesty is a
virtue.” Micah
sighed, ignoring the moment they briefly shared. “Initial shock aside, I
have to admit this is leagues better than camping outside or cramming ourselves
into the carriage. On that note, I say we start on dinner, Miss Melody. I’m starving!”
“I agree with Micah,”
said Luciana. “I’m hungry
myself.”
“Very well. I’ll start on that steak,” said Melody. “Rook, if you would take
everyone’s things to their rooms… Rook? Where’s Rook gone?”
“That’s a good question. Do you think…?” Micah
said.
The girls crept back into
the living room, and there they found him. Rook lay sprawled out on
the couch, his breathing slow and deep. It was little wonder after
he’d spent the entire day driving the carriage and on high alert for the
dangers of the road.
The three women watched
him in silence for a while before exchanging a look. They held their fingers
up to their lips in unison.
And then they dispersed,
Melody to the kitchen to begin cooking, Luciana and Micah to their rooms to
divvy up their things. They did so as quietly as possible, until the smell of meat inevitably
woke their groggy valet-in-training.
Why bring me along if
you’re just going to forget me?! the poor thing wailed for
no one to hear.
Chapter 9:
Ill Omens
THE SUN ROSE EARLY ON AUGUST 2ND, the second day of their journey. At five in the morning,
everyone woke to eat breakfast. Going to bed early the
night before had helped with their early start today. Back at the estate,
Luciana would have eaten alone while the servants attended to her, but as time
was of the essence, everyone ate together this morning. Melody had prepared a
quick and easy meal of sandwiches.
“No one makes these like
you do, Melody!” Luciana
said.
“I simply reused the roast
beef from last night’s dinner, my lady. I’m pleased you like it.”
On the contrary, there
was nothing quick or easy about the feast laid out on the table.
“Our plans?” Rook asked while he nibbled a sandwich. “When do we leave?”
“We’ll finish eating,
gather our things, take apart the cottage, and then be on our way,” Melody
said. “We
ought to be able to make up for yesterday’s delays with this early start.”
“You’re taking this place
apart?!” Micah shouted.
“Say it isn’t so, Melody!” Luciana said. “It’d be such a waste to undo all this hard work!”
“Well, we can’t exactly
leave it here,” Melody said.
Leaving a vacant house on
the side of the road was perhaps not the wisest plan. Who knew what manner of
crime or illicit activity it could host. From the start, Melody
had intended to take down the structure.
“You should use your
magic to store the entire thing,” Micah said.
“That’s a great idea, Micah!” Luciana said. “Then we can use it
wherever we go!”
“We could even leave all
our luggage inside, so we don’t have to pack up again,” Micah went on. “Think of all the time
we’d save!”
“This is far more
comfortable than an inn anyway,” rambled Luciana. “And we can save on room
fees.”
She and her partner in
crime nodded at each other before facing Melody as a united front.
“Well, Miss Melody? Can
you do it?”
“I… Oh, all right,”
Melody said. “I’ll try.”
“Yay!”
they
cheered, sharing a crisp high five.
Melody gave herself a
moment to breathe.
Rook watched the giddy
pair out of the side of his eye. “You’re very persistent.”
“Did
you feel those beds?!” the girls snapped. Plush blankets were no
laughing matter.
“I made them out of the
feathers of a bird I found in the woods,” Melody said. “I’m glad they worked as
well as I thought they might.”
“Is there anything you can’t
get from that forest?” Micah
asked.
“I’d like to know that
myself,” Luciana said.
Doubtless Melody remained
oblivious to the fact that the animals she hunted for these resources were, in
fact, monsters. Who was the apex predator in the world’s largest blightland? Fearsome beasts beyond
imagining? Or a passing
maid?
Micah knew her answer, as
impossible as it was to imagine Melody hunting anything other than dust
bunnies. Not
that she wanted her to stop.
“This is really the cottage? It’s so cute!”
Luciana gazed into the
crystalline globe in her hand. Inside, encapsulated by a
dome capped over a firm piece of earth, lay a miniature version of Melody’s
cottage. To
the unknowing observer, it might seem like a mere snow globe, but Luciana was
right. It
was, in fact, the cottage itself.
“I wanted to preserve it
in an accessible form for the sake of future use,” Melody explained. “Simply plant the base in
the ground and undo the spell, and it will appear.”
“I don’t have the first
clue how something like that even works,” said Micah.
“It’s quite easy, really. Simply designate a
specified point in space and time, and—”
“I’ll take your word for it! I’ll take your word for it!” Micah cried out while
smooshing her hands against her ears and shaking her head.
At first a little taken
aback, Melody finally laughed when her lady did. She had to admit that
Micah’s antics were pretty cute.
Melody’s newest addition
to her maid magic repertoire, Spazio Tempo Dominare, was not a spell for the
layman as it incorporated highly sophisticated, advanced formulae. But for the layman’s
understanding—it was a spell for manipulating space-time. By pausing time over a set
area, then shrinking that space down to the size of a palm, she had effectively
created a snow globe out of a real piece of the physical world.
It was, of course, not at
all as simple as it sounded, but that was the long and short of it.
Existing outside of the
flow of time meant Melody didn’t need to worry about maintaining the cabin, and
all the furniture and luggage would remain exactly where she’d left it. Its shrunken size helped
with erecting it as well. Melody wouldn’t have to rebuild a foundation or re-dig a septic tank
when she could just carry all that around too. All the most convenient
aspects of her handy pocket dimensions sat in the palm of Luciana’s hand.
Needless to say, after
Luciana and Micah’s pestering, they would not be stopping at any stage stations
aside from during the occasional errand run. They were free to travel
as far as they could until night fell, whereupon they would simply re-erect the
cottage.
The conveniences spoke
for themselves, but there were less obvious benefits to the arrangement as
well. Namely,
they got to avoid the potentially unruly inn clientele who made many a long
journey miserable when tensions were already running high. Having accommodations not
unlike those they had grown used to in the capital would go a long way toward
easing the burden of travel, to say nothing of getting to eat together at the
same table. That was one of Luciana’s personal favorite parts.
Thus, the days passed
along with the sedate scenery, and on the fourth of August they neared their
destination without incident. Fortune willing, they
would enter Rudleberg territory in less than twenty-four hours.
Luciana, having just
finished dinner and a bath, sat in her room. “How is it that riding a
carriage can be so tiring? And I’ve hardly felt a bump either, thanks to your magic, Melody.”
“Idleness comes with it
its own costs, my lady,” the maid said, lightly toweling Luciana’s damp hair. “It can be mentally taxing
when you’re unused to such journeys. Incidentally, how was
your journey when you first arrived in the capital?”
“Much worse than this,
come to think of it. We were on a strict schedule so we could reach each stage station in
time. It
was anything but leisurely, that’s for certain. I was exhausted by the
time I made it to the estate but, well, one look at it made me forget all about
that.” Luciana’s
eyes glazed over.
Melody’s, however, sparkled. “Ah, of course. Those renovations are
some of my favorite works yet. I still look back on those
days fondly.”
“I can’t say I agree, but
as long as it made someone happy.”
Luciana did her best to
return her maid’s beaming grin. All’s
well that ends well, I suppose.
Hair dried and nighttime
preparations complete, Luciana retired to her bed. Her long-awaited
homecoming lay just one sleep away; she couldn’t greet her people with bags
under her eyes.
The maid put out the
magically lit candles, casting the room into darkness. Luciana shut her eyes and
waited.
An hour later, sleep
still eluded her, in spite of the fatigue aching in her every limb. Luciana lay wide awake,
much like a child the night before an anticipated outing. Tomorrow loomed
unwavering in her mind, staving off drowsiness like a misguided guardian.
“I’ll get a glass of water. Maybe that’ll calm my
nerves.”
Shuffling into her
slippers and out of her room, Luciana crept down the stairs, careful not to
make a sound. Enough of the Luce spell lingered to supply a dim, ambient light so she
could find her footing and make her way to the kitchen.
She poured a glass of
water and took a sip.
Luciana started with an
odd peeping noise. Somehow managing to keep from spilling her water, she slowly turned
around. “Oh. It’s just you.”
“Whatever has you awake at
this hour?” Melody asked. She wore a light robe
over a nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Luciana had never seen
her in quite so candid a state before. Her heart lurched at the
sight. Granted,
she wore little more than her maid.
“What are you doing awake?” she said.
“I heard your door open
and followed to see what the matter was.”
“Ah, right. Your room is next to mine.”
“You’re not often awake
this late, my lady. Is
something wrong?”
“I was just thirsty. Well, that and I can’t sleep.” Luciana laughed awkwardly.
Melody sighed, then
smiled in relief. “That’s only natural, my lady, with your homecoming so close at hand.”
“You think so? Like you said, I’ve never really had trouble falling asleep before.”
“If it’s troubling you,
why don’t I sing you a lullaby?”
“A lullaby?” Luciana
blinked. “Melody,
the Spring Ball was months ago. I’m a grown lady.”
“What’s the harm? You are technically still a
child for the next three days until you turn fifteen.”
“That doesn’t make me a
baby, thank you very much.”
“Then I apologize and
rescind the offer.”
Luciana pouted for a
while before averting her gaze. “But I would like to hear
you sing.”
Melody thought she might
say that and happily escorted her back to her room. She tucked Luciana into
bed, drew a chair close, and began to sing quietly.
She has such a pretty voice, Luciana thought.
The gentle, somnolent
tones caressed her ears. It was the same melody she had sung for Grail once before. The same her mother had
sung for her. One of Melody’s greatest treasures.
Luciana’s eyelids grew heavy.
Her consciousness
faded.
“Sweet dreams—Fa in Bel Sogno.”
Had even Melody failed to
put her to sleep? No. Something was off. She wasn’t in her bed.
Luciana found herself in
an unfamiliar hallway. To
her right, a wall. To her left, a row of large windows, nothing visible beyond them but
the blackness of night. She tried to open one, but it wouldn’t budge. Unlit light fixtures
clung to the ceiling. What light existed came from below, at her feet, seeping out of the
bottom edge of the wall at even intervals.
I suppose that means I
don’t have to worry about tripping, but knowing where I am would be better.
She stepped forward. Ka-clunk. She looked down to find
heavy boots on her feet. The nightgown she’d gone to sleep in was gone.
It was the gown she’d
worn all the time before Melody came into her life.
Where did this come from? Melody remade this ages ago.
Fear overwhelmed the
confusion. What was this
place? Why
had her old dress returned? What was happening?
She took a closer look at
her surroundings. It wasn’t just the hall she didn’t recognize. It was the architecture
itself. Whatever
it was, it did not look Theolan in the slightest.
The floor and walls are
smooth, but it’s not marble, she deduced. I don’t know what it is. There are all these
windows but no embellishments. Anywhere.
It’s all so sanitary. Too bland to belong to a
noble, but far too expensive-looking to belong to a commoner. What is this place?
Luciana swallowed and
continued forward. She would not find answers standing still.
Her footsteps echoed
eerily down the dreary, empty hallway. If anyone was around to
hear them, they did not show themselves. She reached the end of the
hall, where the path continued through a door. The plate on it bore an
inscription in a language Luciana could not read.
I’ve never seen a round
doorknob before. I suppose it works the same as all the others. Just turn it… It’s open.
The door offered no
resistance. Luciana’s heart pounded in her ears. What lay on the other side?
It was a large room, unlit
like the hallway. The windows continued here, lining every wall, facing nothing but
shadow.
A mess of desks in pairs,
each one facing another, littered the room. Metal, from what Luciana
could feel. Books lay across them, sat stuffed inside them, and mingled with
various bundles and documents spilling off of a waist-high shelf along the
wall.
The disorder in the room
encompassed more than just the books. On several of the desks
sat peculiar plates of lustrous metal that seemed to fold at the middle. Inside were protrusions
that gave way to pressure but served no other immediately obvious function.
Elsewhere, a similar,
larger plate of metal drew Luciana’s eye. Some kind of pedestal
held it aloft. It reminded her of a vanity mirror. Those strange protrusions
adorned a nearby length of an alloy of some sort. She gazed into the glossy
void of the large, metallic sheet but saw nothing save the blurry reflection of
her own face.
And then she remembered. “I can do more than Fare
Acqua. I’m no
one-trick pony!” She
clenched her hands. “Lamplight—Luce!”
Luce, any novice mage’s
very first spell, had once proved an impossible challenge to Luciana, but
Melody’s instruction had borne fruit. A tiny, flickering
candlelight appeared at her fingertip. It was feeble but enough
to give her more visibility.
She peered into the sheet. “What?”
The blurry reflection
revealed more in the light. Luciana saw herself, but
she was a stranger.
Wh-what?
My hair. It’s like flax. My skin is cracked. And this is my old dress. This isn’t… This is…
It was her—before meeting
Melody. Her, when
she’d been alone.
Luciana yelped, her light
going out. Two men
entered the room. She turned toward their voices.
“I’m glad your pitch went
over well, Katsuragi-san.”
“Likewise, but y’know,
still a lot up in the air. I’ve got some writing to do if they want more specifics on the plot by
the next meeting.”
A young man in a
short-sleeved, collared button-down and a fastidiously straight necktie entered
with the man called Katsuragi, who looked older. His clothing seemed less
rigorously tidy, especially the tie barely dangling around his neck.
“H-hello,” Luciana called
out. “I seem to be—”
“They loved what you had,
though,” the younger man said. “Getting Mizuno-san on
board for art probably won you a few points.”
“Having big names to drop
gets you far in this world. Let’s get moving before
anyone changes their mind.”
Do they not notice me? Luciana wondered. What am I looking at?
There were many strange
things about the scene playing out before her. The men’s apparent
disinterest in her presence for one, and the fact that the world seemed to come
to life around them for another. Everything had been dark. Obscured.
The hallway. The room. But everywhere the men
went, the area around them glowed, as if a spotlight tracked their movements.
Something told Luciana
that the key to understanding all this lay in understanding the men. She couldn’t speak to
them, clearly, but she had nothing else to go on, and so she approached. The one called
“Katsuragi” sat at a desk, opened one of the folding metal sheets, and pushed
one of the protrusions. The upper half of the sheet glowed, and writing appeared on it.
It’s a magic item. What’s it for, I wonder?
The younger man peered at
the glowing sheet from behind Katsuragi. Luciana stood in the
background and observed.
I don’t have a clue what
any of these words mean.
Their conversation
entered one ear and exited the other. “Route?” “Flag?” “Bad end?” Evidently, this was
commonplace terminology for these two, but to Luciana it was incomprehensible. Curious that she could
understand the rest of their language.
What
now? They’re
the only two leads I have. Should I search around more?
Just then, the men
finally uttered words she could understand.
“So this girl.” The young man snapped his fingers. “What’s her name? Uh… Luciana Rudleberg. What’s the plan with her?”
Unease held her gut in a
vice grip. They knew her. How did they know her? Luciana listened closer. She would soon wish she
hadn’t.
“Luciana Rudleberg? Oh, I’m killing her.”
I… She
stumbled back. Katsuragi’s decree echoed painfully in her mind. He’s going
to…kill me? Luciana…Rudleberg? But why?
Unease darkened to
pitch-black fear. This
man wanted her dead. And he’d declared it so matter-of-factly. So callously.
“That’s a little dark,
don’t you think? Kill off Luciana and nobody else?”
“I realize that, but her
death’s what inspires the protagonist and sets everything in motion. It’s unavoidable. Luciana Rudleberg has to die. The protagonist needs her
dead, so I’m killing her.”
“Well, I know there were
opinions about that. Did you see the art Mizuno-san drew of her getting a happy ending? I’m not entirely sure why
the protagonist was a maid pouring tea for her, though.”
“Fanart before the game’s
even greenlit? Someone’s jumping the gun a little.”
Luciana’s stomach
churned, leaving her nauseated. These people. They’re…laughing
about it.
Luciana flew out of the
room and back into the hallway.
She
ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. And the hallway went on. And on. And on. Her breaths turned to pants, then to desperate gulps. She stopped sprinting and
checked behind her. The room was still there.
Why? How? I… I ran as hard as I could.
“Luciana?
Oh, I’m killing her.”
Her blood turned to ice. She was in danger. These men wanted her dead. She had to escape.
She ran again. No plan. No route in mind, only
mad terror to propel her forward. She
ran. Exactly as
she had before. To
exactly the same result.
There was only one end
available for Luciana Rudleberg.
She fell to her knees,
shoulders heaving, lungs burning. She could run no more. The room was still right
there, but she could run no more.
Her world spun. Her
vision twisted. The walls and ceiling melted and warped, dragging the door ever closer.
The hallway shrank. The
door loomed.
Behind her, an endless
hallway. Infinity. Before her, mere steps
away, inevitability.
Luciana stared as her
fate approached her, inch by fatalistic inch.
Suddenly, platinum light
flashed from the infirmary, blinding, flooding the somber hallway and driving
back the darkness. It slammed against the door like a physical force.
Reality settled. The
door vanished. Everything vanished, replaced by that silver radiance. Nothing remained in any
direction but pure light.
Infinity. Possibility. The future.
Footsteps plodded behind her.
Luciana turned. She had to squint against
the light pouring from the infirmary. No, pouring from its true
source.
The brightness obscured
the person approaching her, turning them into a sketchy silhouette. They walked right up to her. Still, she could not make
them out.
They offered a hand. Not
a name. Not words
of consolation. Not some indication as to whether this was a hand she could trust or
not.
The person tightened her
grip and smiled in return.
I have no reason to be
scared. I know. Because I’m safe with you. Because you’ll always…
What was I just…? I feel like I was in the middle of something. Something important.
“My lady, if you could,
um, release my hand.”
Luciana was clutching it
tightly. When
had she grabbed hold of it? She tilted her head as
best a lady could while lying in bed.
“I was trying to wake you
when you suddenly reached out and snatched it,” Melody said.
“Oh.
I don’t
remember that at all.”
“It must have been quite the
dream you were having.”
Luciana finally let go
and sat up.
“Was
it? I can’t really
recall. I
remember being scared, though.”
“Scared?
Oh no, was it a
nightmare?”
“No.
Not at the end. I remember…not being
scared at the end. But that’s
all.”
Such was the way of dreams. It had felt so
unquestionably real in the moment, but the harder she searched her memory for
those experiences, the deeper down they hid.
I feel like I was on the
verge of realizing something really important. What was it?
“Strange,” Melody
muttered to herself. “That spell’s supposed to only bring sweet
dreams.” She
shook herself from her ruminations and reasserted herself before her lady. “In any case, shall we
see to your morning routine? You’ve a home to return
to today.”
She offered her hand. Luciana took it immediately.
“Right.
It’s a good
morning, Melody!”
The maid drew her lady up
from the bed and out of the realm of nightmares.
Chapter 10:
The County and Its People
THE FINAL DAY OF THE JOURNEY, AUGUST 5TH, ushered Luciana and her
retinue straight into Rudleberg territory.
The Cross was long behind
them, and they now moved north through the Barony of Faronkalt. All that remained of the
Rudleberg demesne, one-fourth of its original size, consisted of the
northernmost villages, the southern reaches being divided into east and west. Viscount Lillertcruz
ruled the west, and Baron Faronkalt the east. The way from the capital
to their home estate cut through the eastern barony by necessity.
“We should make it by
noon at this rate,” Micah said.
Luciana giggled with
excitement. “I can’t wait to brag to everyone about the cute, young maid and
handsome valet trainee we have now!”
“Oh, my lady, you make me
blush.”
“I’d have said ‘childlike’
if I meant you, Micah.”
“My lady!” Micah
gasped. “I
may be small, but I assure you, I’m every bit the woman you are!”
The bickering was
entirely playful, and both knew it. The carriage was giddy
with excitement as they neared their destination. Fortunately, the trip had
been a painless one, free from both bandit and monster encounters. Not that any of the
passengers genuinely feared either with both Rook and Melody present, but the
absence of danger was not unwelcome.
“My lady, what’s it like
in the Rudleberg demesne?” Micah
asked.
“I suppose you
wouldn’t have.”
“What?
Why me specifically?!” Micah asked.
“My lady,” said Melody,
“you never told me either.”
“Indeed,” Luciana said. “Because I’ve told no one.”
“My lady, please!” Micah
said. “Can we
be done with the games?”
Lucian laughed heartily. “Okay, sorry. Rook should hear too, though, so how about I tell you all over lunch?”
The maids agreed, and
before long, the carriage wheels rolled along Rudleberg soil. When lunchtime arrived,
they pulled over to the side of the road and parked beneath a tree. There, they spread out a
cloth, and Melody laid out the food she’d made that morning—sandwiches of all
types and a number of sides beyond simple finger foods.
“Feels like a picnic,
doesn’t it?” Luciana said.
“Blue skies, a shady
tree, sandwiches on a blanket. It’s a picnic, all
right,” Micah cheerfully agreed.
She and her lady stuffed
their cheeks and moaned in delight. “Delicious!”
As Melody doled out sides
to Luciana, she returned to the topic on everyone’s minds. “You were going to tell
us about your home, my lady?”
“Mhm.
Right,”
Luciana mumbled around a full mouth.
She told them all there
was to tell. The Rudlebergs were situated in the north central region of Theolas,
and they were remarkably small for a countship. The lord two generations
ago had shrunk their land to its current size after poor leadership
necessitated that he sell off large swathes to remunerate debts, and now the
original Rudleberg estate lay in the hands of Viscount Lillertcruz.
The family had built a
humble replacement constructed entirely out of wood on what remained of their
domain. It
was where Luciana grew up, and her family managed three small villages from
there. The
estate stood roughly at the heart of those villages, equidistant from each.
“You didn’t build your
home in one of the villages?” Micah
asked.
“At the time, there was
too much disorder for that. Our territory had
suddenly and drastically shrunk, and our family thought it might send a bad
message if we picked one village over another.”
“A bad message?” Micah tilted her head. “How’s
that?”
“A lord inherently favors
the land he resides in,” Melody said. “My assumption would be
that they wanted to avoid showing such favoritism.”
“That’s a good way to put
it,” said Luciana. “These villages have been on fairly equal footing in terms of wealth
and size for a long time. What do you think might happen if one suddenly became the count’s
home?”
“It’d basically be the
new capital,” Micah said. “Wait, but these are just villages, aren’t they?”
“I’m sure all that and
more weighed on my grandfather’s mind when he made this decision,” Luciana
said. “Anyway,
that’s how the estate ended up where it is. Because all of the
villages are equally far away, it implies that they’ll all be treated equally
as subjects.”
“I bet being away from
town causes all sorts of inconveniences,” Micah said.
“You stop noticing them
when you’ve grown up that way all your life. Well, not that I enjoyed
the two- or three-hour trips anytime I wanted to go over to one of the villages
to play. And
lord help me if I ever went without Dyrule to escort me.”
“He’s our estate’s only
guardsman. There’s also…”
Luciana described the six
individuals who made up the Rudleberg home estate. First of all was Hughes
Rudleberg’s younger brother—that is, Luciana’s uncle—Hubert the bailiff, who
acted in Hughes’s stead. Hubert Rudleberg was an unmarried, burly man of thirty-two. Then there was the oldest
member of the home, fifty-nine-year-old Ryan, the house butler. Finally, Lullia, the
forty-nine-year-old housekeeper, Mira, her junior by five years, and Aasha, the
youngest at twenty-eight, made up the maid contingent of the household.
“And last but not least
is Dyrule, our guardsman and the only mage in the whole county. He’s twenty-nine,” Luciana
said. “As
for the villages, there’s Tenon to the north, Gourges to the east, and Durnan
to the southwest. Ryan and Lullia are married and come from Tenon. Mira comes from Gourges,
the eastern village. And Aasha and Dyrule both grew up in the south—Durnan.”
“I’m not even going to
pretend like I’ll remember all that,” Micah said flatly, pinching the bridge of
her nose. “So
only six people run the whole county?”
“They get by. It helps that it’s so small.” Luciana smiled in a way
that said she knew very well how tight a ship they ran.
“The details will sink in
as we get to know them personally,” Melody told Micah. “Lord Hubert, the bailiff. Master Ryan, the butler. Madam Lullia, the
housekeeper. Her two underlings, Mira and Aasha. And then Dyrule, the
guardsman. I’ll
commit those names to memor…”
“Melody?” Luciana looked at her funny. “What’s wrong?”
A curtain of doubt
obscured Melody’s expression. “My lady, why is your
guardsman not present in the capital? With you and his lord?”
Luciana froze. Her gaze darted away from the maid.
Melody smelled a secret. Her eyes narrowed. “My
lady?”
“So, um, funny story about
that…”
“It wasn’t easy, let me
tell you. There
was no fancy cottage, so we had to rush from one stage station to the next. I was worn out by the
time we reached the capital.”
“I recall you saying as
much,” Melody said. “So then why wasn’t Dyrule there when I first arrived at the estate? Surely he saw the state
of it, and I hesitate to believe he’d leave you alone there if he had.”
“Well, that’s the thing. He
didn’t.”
“He didn’t? Didn’t what?
See the estate?”
“I-I may have…sent him
home before we even made it to the Upper District.”
Melody and Micah stared
at their lady in disbelief.
Luciana forced herself to
explain. She
and Dyrule made their way to that noblest of areas of the city where all
aristocrats resided, she said, when suddenly, Luciana made a mad dash for the
district ahead of her guard. Dyrule was at a loss when
Luciana successfully shook him and reached the Upper District first. He could not give chase
without proper authorization to enter and thus had to return home, crying all
the way.
“My lady.” Melody’s lips were pressed into a hard line. A young noblewoman
slipping past her escort and fleeing into the city on her own? What in the name of all
that was holy had she been thinking?
“W-well, he’s the only
mage in the county. What if there was a monster attack back home while he was stuck with
me? I tried
to tell him when we first got to the capital, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“So you took matters into
your own hands.”
Luciana nodded meekly. Melody rubbed her temples
and groaned.
Although rare, there were
always a few unlucky settlements each year that suffered attacks from monsters
who’d wandered too far from some blightland or another, and it required magic
to slay them. For villages without the means to fight, an encounter could prove
catastrophic. Melody therefore understood her lady’s actions and couldn’t bring
herself to condemn them entirely, though that only enhanced the pounding in her
head. Had
Dyrule followed her into the Upper District and glimpsed the estate, he would surely
have insisted on staying. He would not have been much of a guardian otherwise.
“Come to think of it, I
didn’t see him with His Lordship or Her Ladyship either,” Melody recalled. How had they made it to
the capital? Surely
not on their own.
“Oh, right, apparently
they also slipped away without him knowing.”
Again, Melody and Micah
gasped in disbelief as one. The apple truly did not
fall far.
“Father had the same
concerns I did,” Luciana said. “Dyrule was intent on
joining them for the journey here, so they left a letter for Uncle and went in
secret.”
Melody’s migraine worsened. “I feel bad for Dyrule…”
No one should take
security so lightly, least of all a noble. At any rate, the count
and countess had announced their safe arrival by letter, and the guardsman
narrowed his responsibilities to protecting Hubert and the local villages.
“All this talk is making
me itch to see everyone,” Luciana said. “I hope they’re doing well.” The lady was awfully
bouncy for all the crimes she’d just confessed to.
I
imagine she’s going to regret hurrying when she’s subject to an ear-lashing
first thing, Melody
thought. She
also thought that perhaps the lord and lady’s absence had something to do with
their past buffoonery, but surely not. Surely not.
As they finished lunch
and gathered their things, Luciana stared fixedly in the direction of home. “Not long now.”
Suddenly, Grail went wild. He started to bark and
howl at something in the direction Luciana was facing.
“Grail,” she said. “What’s gotten into—”
Chapter 11:
Birthday Bash
Melody and the others
dropped to the ground as the world shuddered and shook. The maid did not lose her
composure for even a second, however.
Intense shaking. Inability
to stand, she coolly analyzed. Perhaps a magnitude of…
When she was still
Mizunami Ritsuko, Melody had put herself through numerous simulated earthquakes
at disaster centers specifically so she could maintain control of any situation
during her maidly career. Thanks to that experience, she deduced that this was a magnitude
somewhere in the upper fives. Had they been in a
population center, she would have had to be mindful of falling objects, but out
in the open they had nothing to worry about save the lone tree they’d eaten
under, and its roots held firm.
They stayed down and
waited for the shaking to stop. Gradually, it eased up.
“What was that?” Luciana looked shell-shocked.
“My lady, are you hurt?” Melody asked.
“N-no.
I’m okay.” She’d never experienced
such a thing before.
Micah sighed. “Sheesh. That was pretty violent.”
The maid-in-training was
a little shaken but otherwise calm. She clasped her hands at
her chest as she took in her surroundings. Rook was already back up
and calming the frightened horse.
Melody took solace in her
companions’ fortitude. She picked up a fallen cup, refilled it with water, and handed it to
her lady. “Breathe, my
lady. Drink.”
“R-right.”
She did. Fast. The
stress left her parched. She downed the glass in a single gulp, then let out a heavy breath, a
little calmer than before. “Thanks, Melody. I’m
okay.”
“But what was that?” Luciana wondered aloud. “The earth was…swaying.”
“That was some earthquake,
huh? I’ve
never been in one that big!” Micah said excitedly.
For a girl from Japan,
earthquakes were simply a part of life. Not necessarily a daily
thing, but a common enough occurrence. Something of this
magnitude was rare indeed, however. Knowing everyone was
okay, though, Micah was more elated by the experience than anything else.
“That was an earthquake? The earth certainly did,
well, quake.” Luciana wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve only ever read about
them.” Lingering
shock left her face pale.
Earthquakes were not a
common phenomenon in Theolas. According to a memoir at
the estate, the most recent recorded earthquake had occurred almost a century
ago, and it had been fairly small, only a two or three on the seismic scale. The count at the time
recorded the quake, more out of whimsical curiosity than as a damage report.
“I’m sure they didn’t
think the quakes were so serious at the time,” Melody said in defense of her
lady’s forebears. “With something of this intensity, I’d expect wooden structures to
suffer the most. Some may even collapse…entirely.”
The color drained from
Melody’s face as she spoke. She turned in the
direction Luciana had faced moments earlier.
“My lady, do you think
the estate is okay?”
They were only about an
hour out, so the estate certainly had suffered the shaking as well. If they were closer to
the epicenter, they may have endured a stronger quake. Luciana had never been in
an earthquake before, so none of this occurred to her.
“O-our house!” she sputtered, shooting to her feet. “The villages! Are
the people okay?!”
“Rook, can we get moving?” asked Micah.
He shook his head. “I need more time to calm the horse. She’s still spooked.”
Luciana was not the only
one experiencing their first earthquake. Rook’s soothing was the
lone thing keeping the poor horse from bolting.
“Oh
no. What now?” Luciana was white as a
ghost when she turned her gaze back toward the estate.
Running would not get her
there any faster than waiting on the horse would, but neither could she just
sit around. Frustration and fear clouded her mind. She had to do something,
and yet could do nothing.
Melody made up her mind. “My lady, I will go ahead
and ascertain the situation myself.”
Grand wings shimmered to
life at Melody’s back. Maid magic—Ali da Angelo. As the incantation
implied, this spell granted her angelic wings that allowed her to fly. She could make the final
leg of the journey through the air far faster than any horse could carry her.
“I will learn what I can
and await your arrival by carriage, my lady.”
“No, Melody!” Luciana
said. “Take me with you!”
Luciana threw herself at
Melody and locked her arms around the maid just as she was taking off.
“My lady, let go! You’ll
get hurt!” Melody cried.
“I know these roads, Melody. I can show you where to go! Take me! Take me with you!”
“Miss Melody, I think you
should listen to her,” a third party chimed in.
“If it’ll set her mind at
ease, I mean,” Micah said. “And think about it. None of them know who you are. They might not trust you.”
The girl was right. Whatever crisis the
estate found itself in, communicating with them would go far more smoothly if
Luciana tagged along.
Melody groaned but
ultimately acquiesced. “As you
wish. Shall
we be on our way, my lady?”
“Micah, Rook, would you
be so kind as to regroup with us once this mess is resolved?”
“Of course,” Micah said. “Safe travels, Miss Melody.”
“We’ll be there as soon
as she’s calm,” said Rook.
Melody nodded. “Reach
to me—Allungare
la Mano. We’re off, my lady.”
Luciana yelped. Melody swept her lady off her feet, holding her longways like a
princess being carried by a knight and enveloping her with invisible,
reinforcing helping hands. The spell made her feel as light as a feather.
Melody kicked off the
ground, and they clambered into the air. They hovered for a split
second before darting straight up.
Luciana howled as they
zipped through the air. Melody, unable to console her just yet, rose to an altitude of about
fifty meters, nearly fifteen stories up, and stopped. She could have gone
higher, but there was no need.
She surveyed the
landscape, getting her bearings. “Keep your mouth closed,
my lady. We’re
going to move fast.”
Melody shot off like a
bullet. They
flitted past winding roads they would have had to snake around by carriage,
moving many times faster than any animal known to man. A journey that should
have lasted an hour would be complete in a matter of minutes.
Luciana, having shut her
eyes tight, dared to take a peek. Her breath caught as she did.
“Wow…”
The view
from the sky nearly wiped away the panic fogging her mind. Almost, but not quite. The sky
seemed to stretch on forever, the horizon farther off than ever before.
“My lady,” said Melody,
summoning Luciana from her wonderment. “We’ll arrive shortly.”
“Already?
Wait, there it is! That’s our…estate.”
It was easy enough to spot
from so high up. What should have been her home lay just ahead.
They saw not Luciana’s
girlhood home but a dismal pile of rubble.
Melody was speechless. This is worse than I imagined.
Finances post-secession
had forced the Rudlebergs to consolidate and rebuild in a smaller estate. A cheaper one. And with how few
earthquakes the region suffered, the simple wooden construction did not bother
to take them into account. The manor never stood a chance against the magnitude of earthquake that
had just hit it.
Upon landing, Luciana
dashed toward what was probably once the front door, though that was hard to
discern among all the debris. Melody hurried after her,
but not even she could fully conceal the shock on her face. All the seminars in the
world couldn’t prepare one for the realities of a genuine disaster. Melody stood paralyzed
amid a cacophony of inaction, all the phrases and steps and buzzwords she’d
learned turning to static in her head as she beheld the scale of the tragedy. Even the greatest prodigy
to have ever lived was only human.
But Melody still had a
job to do. There
could be survivors trapped in the rubble. She had to act quickly.
Someone beat her to the
punch and shouted, “Milady!”
A brawny man of about
thirty with short, spiky brown hair and eyes to match charged toward Luciana. A gnarly scar ran from
his cheek to his chin. He certainly cut an intimidating figure.
Luciana brightened with
recognition. “Dyrule!”
The Rudlebergs’ one and
only guardsman panted as he approached. “You’ve made it. Are
you unharmed?”
“I’m fine, but…” Luciana
surveyed the wreckage dubiously.
Dyrule did the same, his
scowl deepening. “Yes. It’s a disaster.”
“I-if you were outside,
are Uncle and the others…?”
Dyrule shook his head. “I was out on an errand
for Lord Hubert. He and the others were likely inside when it happened.”
Luciana slapped her hand
over her mouth, eyes widening. “No…”
“Would you happen to have
any idea where they might have been in the house?” Melody cut in.
“And you are?” Dyrule asked pointedly.
“She’s Melody, a maid at
our capital estate,” Luciana said.
“Melody Wave, at your
service. But
perhaps we should save pleasantries for later. Might you answer my
question?”
Dyrule thought. “At this time of day, they’d be in the dining hall, I assume. Lord Hubert and all the
servants share a table.”
“Right!
It’s lunchtime!” said Luciana.
“We should focus our
efforts around that location then,” Melody said. “There may yet be hope.”
“Right!
Uncle! Everyone! I’m coming!”
Luciana followed her
memories toward the dining hall. Melody and Dyrule rushed
after her.
Dyrule grimaced at the
destruction. “Nowhere
was spared.”
The support pillars had
crumbled like paper, and the second floor apparently hadn’t lasted long at all.
The entire
ground floor lay under a whole extra layer of debris. Even with a general idea
of where it ought to be, the dining hall was lost in the wreckage.
“Uncle!”
Luciana cried to
no reply.
“My lady, stand back,”
Melody said. “I’ll
clear away this rubble.”
“That’s no task for a woman. Make way,” Dyrule said.
“Rest assured, this woman
is sufficient. I’ll have to be cautious, though, lest I cause another collapse.”
Suddenly, the
precariously piled rubble started to groan.
“Get back, my lady!” Melody
said. “It’s coming down!”
Before she could react,
the debris near Luciana crashed. The lady shrieked as it
exploded outward.
A great, grizzly roar
erupted from the heap. “Phew! I thought I was done for!”
A man clambered from the
rubble. It
was none other than Count Hughes’s younger brother, Hubert Rudleberg.
He took a big, long sniff. “Fresh air at last.”
He had Hughes’s face but
not his build. Hubert was a large man who looked the part of a farmhand far more than
an aristocrat. Overalls dangled over a short-sleeved button-down shirt. Several of the top
buttons remained undone to make room for the man’s vast chest. All he was missing was a
straw hat and a hoe resting on his shoulder.
The man made his way
through the debris, parting it like an ocean, until he came up to Luciana.
“Uncle!
You’re okay! Thank goodness!”
“Well, if it isn’t Luciana. I see you’ve made it here
in one piece. Welcome home.”
“‘Welcome home’?! I was scared half to death that you’d been crushed!”
“Yes, well, I very well
may have been if it weren’t for Schue. One minute we were
eating, the next the ceiling was coming down. If the boy hadn’t shouted
at us to take shelter under the table, who knows what might have happened?”
Right on cue, the other
servants crawled out of the estate’s remains. Hubert, somehow, had
escaped unscathed, but the rest of the survivors bore injuries of varying
severity, though no one’s life was in any immediate danger. While Ryan managed to
free himself, the maids required Dyrule’s assistance.
“Let’s see to those
wounds,” Melody said, trotting over.
“Your cooperation is
appreciated, but where did you get that first aid kit?”
From a pocket dimension,
of course. She
and Dyrule quickly triaged and began treating the four injured members of the
house.
Luciana sighed. “Thank goodness everyone’s safe.”
Hubert was not so
relieved, though. “Where’s
Schue?”
Just then, another man
appeared from the opening Hubert had created. He had golden hair, at
least where it wasn’t covered in dirt and debris, and sun-kissed skin. He wore a manservant’s
uniform—collared shirt, necktie, vest, black slacks.
“Ah, there he is. Glad to have you back, Schue.”
“Did you have to leave me
there all by myself?” the straggler griped before promptly tripping on a bit of protruding
wood.
Melody was there with
first aid at once. “Are you
okay?”
“Uncle, who is this?” Luciana asked.
“Allow me to introduce
Schue, our newest trainee,” said Hubert. “I was patrolling the
county after you left for the capital, when I found him collapsed on the side
of the road. He had nowhere else to go, so I took him in. He’s a real asset, I tell
you. We
wouldn’t have made it out of this without him.”
“Wow.
Then I suppose
he’s earned—”
Luciana had hardly
finished the thought before the boy dropped to his knees.
“One glance is all I need
to know,” he said. “I am madly in love with you. Please, will you be mine?”
It was like something
straight out of a play. Kneeling like the protagonist of a great romance, Schue laid his heart
bare before his savior.
Melody recoiled, entirely
appropriately. “I-I beg
your pardon?”
“Oh, he’s earned something all right.”
Hubert’s eyes shot open. “Luciana?”
Dyrule’s did the same. “Milady?”
They had never seen this
girl before. That
cold, dead smile. This was not their Luciana!
She strode forward,
stepping in front of Melody, who quietly shrank back.
Luciana smiled, and yet
she did not smile at all. “Greetings.
You’re the one
called Schue? You have my thanks for rescuing my uncle and our retinue.”
“Huh?
Oh, you’re pretty! Wait, you said ‘uncle’?”
The poor boy. He knew not the forces with which he reckoned.
“But let’s get one thing
straight.” Luciana
produced the birthday present she’d received from Melody, the folding fan with
the special magic enchantment.
She held it aloft and
activated it with a minuscule amount of mana and a flick of the wrist. The fan transformed into
not just a fan, but a mighty harisen.
“Hands
off, fool!” she roared.
The full force of the
fan’s might struck Schue’s cheek. Luciana was a natural
possessed of perfect form. She swung from the wrist, the hips, and the shoulder, so when
the fan hit, it hit hard. Schue spun in place, tumbling back into the rubble.
This was the true nature
of the gift Luciana had requested Melody craft for her. An implement only for
her, harmlessly torturous, tortuously harmless—the Holy Harisen. Though lacking in any
actual substantial force, the sound and impact alone could adequately punctuate
any point in need of emphasis. It had proven quite
effective against her father, and in knocking some sense into Luna during her
darkest hour. Luciana could think of no better birthday present.
To add to its
effectiveness, enchantments on the fan made it impervious to blades. In fact, it could
effortlessly win such an encounter. It could even parry and
nullify spells. To put it lightly, one did not want to go up against this particular
harisen.
“M-my lady, what are you
doing?!” Melody shouted.
Luciana scoffed. “It was the blunt edge.”
“The blunt edge?! It’s not a sword, my lady! And you don’t even
practice fencing! How do you know what that means?!”
Luciana leered down at the
very-much-unconscious Schue lying in the rubble and huffed.
Chapter
12:
The Maid Who Knew No Fear
Schue, after Hubert
rescued him from his predicament, awoke from his stupor and almost immediately
darted for Luciana, sliding up to her like a prostrating baseball player. His lack of self-respect
did not garner much sympathy, least of all from Luciana, who stared down at him
like he was mud under her shoe.
“It was the heat of the
moment!” he said. “I was possessed by an
unnatural force! We men, you see, we’re cursed to lose ourselves when girls are pretty! It was a crime of passion! I had to try! Because even if only one
out of a hundred girls gives me the time of day, it was all worth it! Does that maybe sort of
kind of make sense?!”
“I wish you hadn’t come
out of the rubble,” Luciana grumbled.
Schue bleated. “I’m
sorry! I’m sorry! So very sorry!”
Luciana had found her
rock bottom. This was the absolute lowest she could think of someone. All the points Schue had
earned by saving her family were but a drop in the bucket of his
transgressions. In
fact, he may have gone below rock bottom and entered the negatives. Frankly, there was no
coming back from this for Schue. All of Melody’s suitors
were enemies to Luciana, plain and simple.
Elsewhere, far away back
at the capital, unbeknownst to anyone, a certain knight shuddered.
“The capital has…shaped
milady,” Dyrule said.
“They grow up fast, don’t
they? Girls especially. Blink and you miss it,”
Hubert waxed sentimental.
Ryan shook his head. “That is a generous
interpretation, my lord.”
“My lady,” Melody said,
“you heard the man. He
meant no harm. Can’t we turn the other cheek?”
“You’re right, Melody. I
missed one!” Luciana said. “Men like him are all the
same. They’ll
never change unless they’re forced to!”
Schue blubbered. “I’ve
repented! Turned over
a new leaf! I’ll
never woo this fair maiden ever again! Probably!”
“Why are you making
things worse for yourself?!” Melody shouted at the man. “Bite your tongue, for
goodness’ sake!”
“I can tell no lie, good
maiden! If
I don’t believe it in my heart, I can make no promise! Please, forgive me!”
“You just saved me the
trouble of digging your grave!” Luciana said.
Schue shrieked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“My lady,” Melody said,
“a noblewoman does not speak like that!”
Shrieks, screams, and
cries of all sorts echoed across the miserable remnants of the former Rudleberg
estate. Melody
had to put her lady in a nelson hold to keep her from bringing her harisen down
a second time.
“What exactly are we
watching?” Ryan muttered.
Hubert guffawed. “Why, a comedy, I should think.”
“Featuring your niece, my
lord?”
“Yes, it is a shame to
end it early, isn’t it? But there’s work to be done.” Hubert clapped his big
hands together. The booming noise froze the play’s actors in place. He approached. “Luciana, so sorry to
interrupt, but I’ll need to steal Schue from you.”
“It’ll have to wait, Uncle. I’m afraid this one’s
scheduled to be quartered and drawn.”
“Actually,” Melody chimed
in, “traditionally, criminals are drawn and then quartered. It would be far too
cumbersome to parade the criminal around after they’ve already been
dismembered. Also, again, where did you learn to speak like that?”
“Madam Maid, could you
please not give her ideas?!” the accused pleaded.
It was all Hubert could
do not to crack up again. “I do so hate to be a killjoy, but seeing as our affairs are in order
here, we ought to take account of the rest of the damage to the county. We’re going to need
Schue’s help with that.”
That finally snapped
Luciana out of her rage. There were more important matters at hand than some skirt chaser. “You’re right.” She shut her fan and paced. “I hope everyone is okay.”
Dyrule and Ryan shared
sighs of relief as the Luciana they knew returned.
“Normally, this would be
a one-man job, but it seems to me that time is of the essence,” Hubert said. “I want Schue to hurry on
to one of the villages for me.”
Luciana grumbled. “I suppose that’s for the best.”
“So you forgive me?” Schue
jabbered. “Thank
you so much, fair lady!”
“I should hope that would
be the present,” Melody said. He sounded all too much
like a dodgy politician to her.
Hubert swiftly divided up
responsibilities. He would make haste to Gourges to the east, and Ryan would assess the
situation at his hometown to the north, while Schue went to Durnan in the
southwest. The
three maids were too shaken to do much of anything and currently rested on a
blanket Melody had laid out for them. Stress had put them to sleep.
“I will remain and ensure
milady’s safety,” Dyrule said.
“We’ll be fine. You should stay with Uncle.” Luciana was not about to
do this again, especially now that she had Melody. The men, however, did not
see things as she did.
“We can’t leave women to
fend for themselves. Dyrule stays,” Hubert stated.
“But what if you need more
help in town? We won’t
go anywhere. Take him with
you. We also have—”
“Help on the way,”
Luciana finished.
Micah’s voice heralded
the carriage’s arrival.
“And who’s that?” Hubert
asked.
“My carriage. Seems they’ve caught up.”
“Your carriage? How in the world did you get here without it?”
“You… Well, yes, I assume
you arrived in a hurry, but how exactly?”
Luciana chuckled. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”
Her uncle’s
misunderstanding of her phrasing was too entertaining to correct. Not that he would have
believed her even if she did explain. She laughed again.
Dyrule assessed the carriage.
A small
girl hung out the window, waving. In the box sat a handsome
young man. The
sword at his hip didn’t escape the guardsman’s notice.
“That’s Rook,” Luciana said. “We hired him in the capital.
He’s our
newest valet-in-training, and he saw us all the way here safely.”
Ryan’s interest was piqued. “A butler-to-be, is he? Shall I whip him into
shape later?”
“That was part of why we
brought him. He doesn’t have anyone to learn from in the capital, so we were hoping
you could teach him some things.”
“I
see.” Ryan bowed low. “That can be arranged, my
lady.”
Meanwhile, Dyrule’s face
was in his palm. “She’s run off ahead of her guard yet again…” He sighed. Then kept sighing.
“Um, Melody was with me
this time, I’ll have you know,” the culprit argued.
“You’d placate me with
the presence of one maid? You are a guardsman’s worst nightmare, my lady. Truly. Do you have any idea how
beside myself with worry I was when you disappeared? And after His Lordship,
frankly, I have to question if any of you are cognizant of your positions at
all.”
By the time Dyrule
finished his rant, the carriage reached them.
“Sorry for the delay,”
Rook said.
“Oh no, this is awful,”
Micah said. “The
whole place is flattened. My lady, Miss Melody, were either of you hurt?”
“No, Micah, thank you,”
Melody replied. “We’re fine, and luckily the others are as well.”
“Thank goodness.” Property could be replaced but not people. Micah sighed with relief.
“We’ll do proper
introductions once Lullia and the others are awake,” Luciana told her uncle. “But these are my three
attendants who came with me from the capital.”
“A pleasure to make your
acquaintance, Lord Hubert,” Melody said. “I am Melody, maid of all
work.”
“P-pleasure to meet you! I’m Micah, maid-in-training!”
“Pleasure. Rook,
valet-in-training.”
Melody and the valet
performed proper bows while Micah curtsied rather clumsily.
“If only we could have
met under better circumstances,” Hubert said. “I am Luciana’s uncle,
Hubert. I
leave her in your capable hands.”
“Yes, my lord,” the
servants replied in unison.
He nodded, satisfied. “Rook can stand guard here
then, and Dyrule will come with me. There’s no telling how
much debris will need moving.”
Dyrule stood at attention. “Milord. You, the one called Rook. Stay vigilant.”
“Now,” Hubert said,
“let’s be off. There’s
no time to lose.”
“A moment, please.” Melody ran up just as the three groups began to disperse toward the
villages. She
handed out stationary and writing implements. “For taking account.”
If the damage was bad
enough, they would likely need a way to record it all.
“Melody, you shouldn’t have!” Schue said. “Oh, how considerate of
you to think of me!”
“Schue,” Ryan snapped. “Enough.
You’re making her
glare. Thank
you, madam, we’ll make good use of these.”
Melody handed the
implements to Hubert last. “Here you are, my lord.” She beamed up at him.
His hand froze. He stood still as a statue, staring into the maid’s eyes.
“Is something the matter,
my lord?”
“N-no.
Nothing. Thank you. You’re a great help.”
The lord dashed away at a
full sprint. Leaving
Dyrule behind.
“Lord Hubert! Oh, for the love of…” The guardsman raced after him.
“What gave him pause, I
wonder,” Melody said.
“Maybe you charmed him,”
Micah teased. “Maybe it was love at first sight.”
Melody laughed. “Please. He’s more than twice my age. He’d hardly take an
interest in me, I’m sure.” The notion was simply absurd.
Still,
Micah thought, she’s
the heroine. May-December isn’t exactly out of the question.
Micah watched Hubert’s
quickly diminishing figure, eyes filled with budding curiosity.
As for Luciana—“I’ll have
to have a long talk with him when he returns.”
The harisen was back in
her hand. Her
eyes narrowed, as if trained on a singular goal. She took a swing. Just for practice.
That
girl, Hubert thought as he ran. She looks an awful lot
like her. Not
her hair or eyes but her smile. It was just like Selena’s.
What am I thinking? She’s young enough to be
my niece.
“My lord, wait! For
goodness—wait!” Dyrule
shouted. “Damn, he’s fast!”
Hubert ran from the
ridiculous thoughts all the way to Gourges.
“Thank you, Melody.” Luciana sat at a table
with some refreshments to help settle her nerves. All the chaos had left
her terribly thirsty. “Delicious.”
The maid smiled warmly at
her lady, and Luciana smiled back. Such a lovely moment it was.
“Is now really the time
for this?” asked
Micah, spoiling it entirely.
“Am I not allowed a
little escapism?” Luciana
pouted. The
comment, unfortunately, forced her to briefly face the reality unfolding around
her.
“Debris removal team
reporting. We’ve
found undamaged pottery!”
“Very good. Turn it in to the recovery team.”
The remains of the
Rudleberg estate now hosted fifty Melodys busily working in tandem to clear the
mountain of rubble. The main Melody, meanwhile, focused on attending to her lady.
The Melodys were divided
into a number of teams. There was debris removal, tasked with, well, the removal of debris; the
recovery team, who collected and kept tabs on all the potentially usable
cookware or tools they unearthed; a team dedicated to retrieving as many
administrative documents as possible; and so on, all working together. And, as was tradition at
this point, all worked double time. Doubtless they would
finish their work long before Hubert returned.
“It’s a good thing the
other maids are asleep, otherwise they might faint at the sight of all this. I know I did. Once.” Luciana’s
eyes glazed over.
As did Micah’s. “It is a surreal scene, isn’t it?”
Melody, as ever, had not a
clue what they were going on about.
“What are we going to do
about all this?” Luciana
asked.
“We should complete the
work before nightfall, my lady,” Melody said.
Luciana shook her head. “No, I mean about all of this. How am I going to tell
Father?”
“That’s true,” Micah said. “The entire estate did
get flattened.”
“I’ll bet it’s going to
be expensive…”
The Ignoble Rudlebergs
were ever at the mercy of their past mistakes and that brutally blunt moniker
of theirs. With
their debts paid, however, and Count Hughes’s appointment to the Chancery,
Hughes had hoped he might be able to provide a little more for his family. This tragedy had struck
with a truly cruel sense of timing. Luciana did not want to
think about the cost to replace all that had been destroyed.
Perhaps they would have
to get comfortable with debt once again.
“My lady,” Melody said,
“shall I rebuild the estate myself?”
Luciana didn’t humor the
absurd suggestion long. “That would save us a lot of grief, financially speaking, but no. Thank you, Melody, but
Father is the head of the house, so ultimately it’s up to him. We probably shouldn’t
tread on his authority.”
“Miss Melody, I have an
idea,” said Micah. “What if you just made it how it was before the disaster? Like turning the clock
back with your magic. Could
you do that?”
Luciana’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that? Not even you?”
“Define ‘maidly talents.’” Luciana really should
have known better than to question this sort of thing at this point.
“But you wouldn’t be
building it yourself,” Micah pointed out. “Wouldn’t turning back
time do all the work for you?”
“Impossible for an
entirely different reason. Time flows in but one direction,” Melody explained. “Once it passes, it’s
gone forever. I could speed it up, slow it down, or even pause it temporarily, but I
cannot ever reverse it.”
“It might be easier for
us to think about your capabilities in terms of things you can’t do at this point.” Admittedly, Micah found
it a little reassuring that even Melody had some limits.
“That’s probably for the
best,” Luciana said. “Are we going to use the cottage?”
“I think not. It’s far too small, and it won’t do as a long-term substitute after
we’ve returned to the capital and while the new estate is still under
construction.”
“That’s true. It does rely on you being around,” Micah said.
All the lights and water
sources came from Melody’s magic. As a quick place to rest
on a long journey, it was rather convenient, but to Hubert and his retinue, the
majority of whom could not use magic, it would prove quite the opposite.
“In any case,” Melody
said, “I will construct an impromptu, temporary estate of sorts for both Lord
Hubert’s and our own comfort. If that’s all right with
you, my lady.”
“We do need somewhere to
sleep. Will
you have enough materials for something like that?”
“Plenty, my lady. I’ve still a healthy supply of lumber.”
“How much did you deforest?” Micah asked. Mostly rhetorically.
Melody had used so much
wood on the cottage, yet somehow she still had more? The thought of a freshly
thinned and healthily growing Great Vanargand Wood threatened to give Micah an
ulcer.
“Everyone!” Melody called out to her clones. “Next, we must build
temporary lodgings, so make the necessary arrangements!”
“Yes, madam!” the mob roared before returning to work with renewed vigor. Things were progressing
smoothly.
“Thanks to Melody, we can
take care of the most pressing concerns,” Luciana ruminated. “But there’s still Father
to report to. That’ll mean another trip to the capital, but I hate to leave at a time
like this, even if Uncle’s here to handle things.”
As much of an emergency as
this was, she’d only just arrived. Luciana wanted to be of
use, but word had to reach her father somehow. Conundrums.
Melody and Micah watched
their lady pace. Rook was off on his own, securing the perimeter. Grail, as usual, slept
peacefully in the carriage.
“Do you remember the
spell you used in the forest?” Micah whispered to her
colleague. “Couldn’t
you use that to zip to the capital?”
Micah spoke of Ovunque
Porta, of course, the gateway spell that could connect two distinct locations
with a magical door. She’d experienced it firsthand when Melody transported a rampaging
Bjork from the Royal Academy to the Great Vanargand Wood.
Ovunque Porta is meant as
a pathway for servant use only, Melody thought. To let my lady use it
would be improper, to say the least.
In many estates, the
servants used completely separate hallways from their master or mistress for
the sake of propriety, and to ensure the master and mistress felt the servants’
presence as little as possible. Melody had applied this
same principle to the Ovunque Porta spell, but it was an entirely self-enforced
rule in that case, and nothing physically prevented her lady from making use of
those pathways. After all, Lect had done so and he was petty nobility.
Melody coped with the
distress of this realization under the pretense of “friend privilege.”
In any case, it was a
matter of pride. Melody wanted to maintain her finicky principles as best she could, and
that got her thinking outside the box.
That’s
it. If
servants have their own pathways, then I just need to make one for my lady!
“If you’ll excuse me, my
lady.”
“Hm?
Oh, sure. You’re excused, Melody.”
The maid curtsied and left. Luciana thought little of
it other than that Melody probably needed a bathroom break, but the maid
returned no more than a minute later.
“Forgive me for the
delay, my lady. The preparations are complete,” Melody said.
“What’s this about?” Micah asked, head cocked
at the same angle as Luciana’s.
Melody smirked proudly. “Humble welcomes—Benvenuti Porta.”
A grand double door rose
from the ground before Luciana and Micah with great pomp. Silver embellishments
adorned the door, granting it an imposing air. Whosoever used this door
was clearly an individual of great importance.
Micah took an awed breath. “What in the world…?”
Luciana gawked. “Is this what I think it is?”
The Benvenuti Porta
slowly opened. On the other side lay not a hill of rubble swarming with scrambling
worker Melodys, but rather… “L-Luciana? Is that you?”
The capital estate’s
foyer, in which stood Count Hughes. He was dressed like he’d
just returned from an engagement, and Serena was there greeting him.
“Gentlesister,” she said
with a lilt of surprise. “Forgot
something?”
“Oh, no. Our lady simply has something to report to His Lordship. It was an emergency, you
see.”
“Well, goodness. It must be some emergency if you’re allowing her to use Ovunque Porta. Unless this is different? It certainly isn’t the
door I’m used to seeing.”
“Indeed.
I’ve
fashioned a new one for the family’s use. Both our lady and His
Lordship are free to pass through without worry of unseemly faux pas.”
Serena couldn’t stifle a
giggle. “That’s
perfect, Gentlesister.”
“No!”
the Rudlebergs
snapped. Father
and daughter cradled their heads in their hands, faces contorted in pain.
“You see the problem with
this, yes, Luciana?” groaned
Hughes.
“I do, Father. We
are in agreement.”
“My lady? What’s
wrong?” Melody
asked without a hint of irony.
That earned her a pair of
sighs.
“Serena, is my mother in? If she is, please bring
her to the dining hall immediately,” Luciana said.
“Does anyone else know of
this?” Hughes
asked his daughter.
“Fortunately, Uncle is
away right now. Only those of us from the capital know.”
“Assemble everyone. Rudleberg family meeting in the dining hall!” Hughes said.
Much hustle and chaos
followed this command. Melody alone stood frozen in place, as confused as she had ever been.
Chapter
13:
The Maid Who Learned Fear
BACK IN THE PALTESCIA ESTATE, SERVANTS and family sat
face-to-face in the dining hall.
“I officially call this
long overdue meeting to session,” Hughes said.
“Wait, where’s Rook?” Luciana searched for him.
At the head of the table
sat the house patriarch, Count Hughes. His wife, Marianna, sat
to his right, followed by their daughter. On the opposite side of
the table sat Melody, Micah, and Serena, but no Rook.
Micah raised her hand to
speak. “He
stayed behind to look after the maids.”
“Ah, right. That makes sense,” Luciana said.
“He also said that he had
no business here and it would be a waste of time.”
“Micah, I think he may
have appreciated if you kept that to yourself,” Luciana said. “In any case, I guess
Lullia and the others would be a little shocked to wake up alone. Anyway, please continue,
Father.”
Hughes nodded. “Let us get right to the crux of today’s meeting: Melody’s complete and
utter lack of perspective in regard to her magic.”
Question marks could have
flashed over the heads of every servant at the table at Hughes’s words.
“Wait, Micah? Melody and Serena I get, but you’re confused too?” Luciana asked.
“Oh, it’s just, why now? This all feels awfully
sudden,” Micah replied.
“Serena,” Melody said,
“do you know what this is about?”
“I’m afraid all my
magical knowledge comes from you, Gentlesister. I’m rather lost myself.” The doll rested her cheek
against her hand.
Micah nodded. “It’s always the one you expect to be the most normal who has the least
common sense.”
“So, um, what’s this
about my lack of perspective?” Melody asked.
“Melody, dear, your magic
has been a great help to us and this family,” Marianna said. “But, well, the spells you
cast are special. Unlike
any other.”
Melody beamed. “Yes,
my lady! Because
it’s maid magic! Magic made for maids by maids!”
Marianna wore a crooked grin.
“How do we put this?”
“Allow me, Mother,”
Luciana chimed in. “To be blunt, Melody, your magic is completely unique. It’s special. In the sense that it’s
unparalleled—in a way that many people would probably want for themselves if
they witnessed it.”
“I’d be happy to share
the secrets of maid magic with them. It’s not especially
difficult.”
To Melody, these powers
were simple conveniences, tools to aid her in her work, tools that others in
her profession would undoubtedly make good use of as well. She welcomed the
opportunity to proselytize her unique brand of sorcery.
Luciana, however, shook
her head. “What
I’m saying is this: I don’t think that’s true. I think only
you
are capable of using magic in the way you do.”
“Miss Melody, on a purely
technical level, you’re beyond anyone,” Micah said bluntly. “But even more than that,
no one has anywhere near the amount of mana they’d need to cast any of your
spells.”
“They don’t have enough mana?
How?”
“She doesn’t know,” Micah
muttered through a sigh. She looked up at Melody, meeting her eye to eye. “Because you have the
most out of anyone in the kingdom! Probably anyone in the
entire world!”
Because you’re the
heroine, dang it! she added mentally.
“The most mana in the world? Me?” Melody blinked. “Don’t be ridiculous, Micah. That’s hyperbole if I’ve
ever heard it. I’m
still largely untrained. Why, just a few months ago I couldn’t cast a single spell. And you say I’m number
one in the world?”
“Mana is inherent to the
individual. When you learned how to use it is irrelevant.”
“I…suppose.” Melody turned to her lady, searching for a lifeline.
She didn’t find one. Luciana and her family
held firm, regarding Melody with stony expressions.
“Agreed,” the count and
countess said.
“Y-Your Lordship. Your
Ladyship.”
“Melody, do you remember
when I was attacked at the Spring Ball?” said Luciana.
Melody gritted her teeth. My enchantments failed. I failed. My lady’s dress was in
tatters. She lost
consciousness. I’ll never live down that shame. All the more reason to
doubt this ridiculous assertion that I have the most mana in the kingdom, much
less the world!
Luciana would not abide
such excuses. “It’s thanks to your magic that I made it out unharmed.”
“But your dress was
destroyed. You
didn’t come back to us until the next morning.”
“You’re missing the
bigger picture. Without your magic, it would have been far worse. I would have died, Melody. Your magic saved my life.”
“Y-you’re exaggerating, my
lady.”
“It is not an
exaggeration,” Hughes said.
“The scoundrel who
attacked my daughter did more than swing a sword. Several of the attendees
were trapped in some kind of dark barrier of his making. Even Sven Shaykrode, His
Majesty’s archmage, could not break it.”
“Indeed. Over and over, Archmage Shaykrode bombarded the barrier with spells of
incredible power to no avail whatsoever. Only when His Royal
Highness defeated the villain did it finally fall, but let that speak to the
strength of the threat we faced.”
“I wasn’t privy to the
details. I…I’m
glad you’re safe, my lady.”
“As am I,” Hughes continued. “But she would not have
been if not for the protection you applied to her dress. Make no mistake, Melody,
you saved my daughter from a man powerful enough to challenge the archmage
himself. So
please understand, this power of yours—it is incredible. And it does, indeed,
surpass the greatest spell caster in the realm.”
Melody did not speak. She
couldn’t.
I’m the…most powerful
spell caster in the kingdom?
“If I may,” Serena spoke up. “If what you say is true,
then pardon my confusion, but what exactly is the concern? Is it not a good thing
that Gentlesister has so much mana?”
Silence fell heavily over
the dining hall. The question snapped even Melody back to her senses. Assuming she believed
these claims, why did this truth call for an emergency meeting?
Hughes explained soberly. “The mana isn’t the concern. It’s what can be done with
it. Namely, anything. It’s as Luciana said. There are no few number
of nobles or merchants who would covet you were they to know of your power.”
“And with your talents?” Marianna continued. “You’re a superb maid. You can divide yourself
to be everywhere all at once. You can make any dress
your heart imagines. There’s no protection sturdier than your defensive spells. You can create life, as you did with Serena. On top of all of that,
you’re an excellent cook, a thorough cleaner, and a speedy maid. From my point of view,
there’s nothing you can’t do.”
“But most of all, you’re
really pretty!” Luciana
hastened to add. “And that’s something everyone can see!”
“What…all that is to
say,” Hughes went on after recovering from his daughter’s non sequitur, “is
that you draw attention. Frankly, it’s a miracle no one’s taken notice of you thus far.”
Somehow, completely
oblivious to her situation, Melody had avoided the world’s attention. By some twist of fate, her
work as a maid offered her the very obscurity that had concealed her feats and
miracles within the bubble of her family.
But she’d crossed an
important line today.
“Your newest
teleportation spell. It’s far too ostentatious,” Hughes said. “Granted, your ability to
multiply isn’t exactly subtle either, but the implications of this newest spell
are dangerous.”
Micah nodded, finally
understanding. “Thus
the emergency meeting.”
Her past as a Japanese
schoolgirl still far outweighed her time in this world. She did not yet possess
the same sensitivities as the Rudlebergs. Teleportation magic was
about as cliché as cliché fantasy could get, so it only made sense to her that
Melody could use it. The reason for the Rudlebergs’ panic did not fully set in until just
now. Clones
or magical armor could stay private, but teleportation was, by its nature, a
tad more flashy. And
attractive.
“I can see how that might
incite a small-scale war over her,” she reasoned.
“It indeed could,” Hughes
said. “And
we Rudlebergs, sad as it is, would lack any meaningful authority or say in such
a conflict. Staving off commoners is one thing, but our aristocratic peers would
swiftly overwhelm us.”
“But I don’t want to
leave House Rudleberg,” Melody argued meekly.
“It’s very sweet of you
to say that.” Marianna smiled at her, and the maid smiled back. The expression soon withered.
“But if a
noble of high enough standing ordered it, you would have no say in the matter. We couldn’t protect you.”
Melody glanced around the
table, speechless. The somber expressions that greeted her rooted her in this harsh
reality.
“Melody,” Luciana said,
“if someone discovers your magic and people begin to vie for it, it’s not
losing you that scares us the most—it’s you losing your freedom. And you will lose
your freedom.”
“Like we said, we’re
operating under the assumption that you have more mana than anyone else in the
kingdom. You
can multiply and make dresses stronger than armor and build cottages in half an
hour and then stow them away in a globe to take wherever you go. You have a rare gift. Special magic.”
“One of those is new to
me,” Hughes commented offhandedly.
This was getting out of hand.
The stakes just
kept rising.
“That’s right,” Luciana
continued grimly. “Someone as strong and talented and pretty as you—the realm would never
waste that kind of asset. I imagine they’d make you a court mage.”
“A court mage? But I don’t want to be that,” Melody protested weakly. “I want to be a maid.”
She couldn’t believe it. She refused to. They would have to drag her away kicking and screaming.
Luciana shook her head. “They’ll probably use all
sorts of means to force your hand. You could be adopted into
a noble house, or even engaged to a member of the royal family.”
“Engaged?
To royalty? Y-Your Lordship, surely this is hyperbole.”
Hughes didn’t even blink. “I wish I could say it was. Your gift is simply that
valuable. Strong
heirs are valuable. A royal could view you as a powerful addition to their pedigree.”
Melody froze. Her mouth hung open in numb
shock. Adopted? Engaged? I could become nobility. Royalty, even. If that happens, my life as a maid would be…
The entire table leaned
toward Melody. “You what?”
This was not the sort of
wail the Rudleberg estate had grown accustomed to. This voice, brand new to
the vibrating walls of the estate, was of the maidly variety.
“I’m…!
I’m never using
magic again!” Melody blubbered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I was so happy when I
got these powers,” she sputtered. “I thought I could make
my master’s life better, whoever they were. I thought it was a good
thing, but it…it could unmake my entire maid life!”
Melody sagged with
betrayal, utterly crestfallen that her pride and joy, her beloved maid magic,
could become a noose around her neck. Every time she used it,
the rope tightened a little more. Every time she used it,
she ran the risk of revealing herself and ending this ideal life of hers. She’d never even known
the risks until now.
She
couldn’t bear the thought of giving up her dream. She would rather die. The idea
terrified her so completely that all other thoughts fled her mind.
Hiding her tearstained
face behind her hands, Melody declared, “I’m locking these powers away forever,
moving far off, and starting over as a plain maid who’s never even heard of
magic! Thank
you for everything and goodbye!”
She darted for the door. Hughes and his wife could
only watch, mouths agape. Micah was flabbergasted. Even Serena, the great
magical maid automaton, stood frozen in her spot.
Only one person retained
the wits to respond.
Luciana hurled herself at
the maid, screaming at the top of her lungs. She wrapped her arms
around Melody’s waist and tackled her to the floor, shouting the whole way. Luciana hardly even
noticed the impact as she held the maid with an ironclad grip.
“Please don’t go, Melody!” Luciana sobbed. “Please
don’t go!” She
was even more of a mess than Melody, her face soggy with tears and snot.
Wh-what in the world?! What… I don’t
understand. Somehow, her lady’s inconsolable, heartbroken display soothed Melody. She watched Luciana
sniffle and bawl, a gentle smile overtaking her lips as she did.
Melody reached into her
pocket and produced a handkerchief. “I won’t leave, my lady. I’m not going anywhere. Please don’t cry.”
Luciana sniffed and hiccuped.
“Do you swear?”
“On my honor, my lady.” Melody dabbed the tears
from her cheeks. She was much prettier without them.
Melody’s heart swelled in her chest. I’d be a failure of a
maid to leave a place where I’m so clearly needed.
Micah, on the complete
opposite end of the emotional spectrum, was aghast. “That’s the Jealous Witch
for you…”
Jealous Witch? Serena thought. Micah must not have
thought anyone would hear her, but now didn’t seem a particularly good time to
ask what she meant by that.
Once composed, Melody
returned to her seat. “That was unbecoming of me. I apologize.”
With Luciana still
affixed to her waist.
“Luciana,” Hughes
snapped, “go to your seat.”
“My lady, I gave you my
word,” Melody said.
“Look at you,” Marianna
teased. “You’re
like a little baby.”
The shock of Melody’s
threat had reverted the young lady back to infancy. It didn’t seem worth the
effort to try and get through to her right now.
Hughes attempted to
restore a measure of decorum by clearing his throat. “At any rate, I think the
message is clear. You will always have a place in House Rudleberg.”
“Your talents are
certainly attractive. We won’t patronize you,” Marianna said. “But you’ve done so much
for this family, and we want to return the favor one day. When it’s, er, a little
more within our means.”
“Your Lordship. Your
Ladyship. Thank
you,” Melody said.
“I don’t care if you have
magic or not! I want you to stay here forever!” Luciana said.
“I’m flattered, my lady. Then I suppose it’s best
that I do away with the cottage.”
“What?!
But… N-never mind. Do what you have to.” Luciana’s expression
flashed from grief to acceptance in record time.
“Our lady’s a little
indecisive,” Micah teased.
“I’m only joking,” Melody
laughed. “I will
spare the cottage.”
The weight bearing down
on the dining hall finally lifted and levity returned. Serena decided now was a
good time to ask, “What exactly do we intend to do about Gentlesister’s magic?”
The hall fell quiet. Hughes cleared his throat. “The important thing is
to be mindful about hiding her magic more proactively going forward.”
“So she shouldn’t use it
at all?” Luciana asked.
“Not quite. We’ve benefited from it far too much to place the onus on her alone. But the fact remains that
she does need to be more prudent about using it.”
“Then she can use as much
as she wants! She just has to avoid getting caught!”
“That’s, well, not the wrong idea.”
It was, however, perhaps
the complete opposite extreme of what Hughes was suggesting.
“I understand, my lord,”
Melody said. “It’s true that I’ve paid very little mind to those around me, but I’ll
make a point to be more aware of the time and place if I want to use magic. They’ll have to pry this
apron off my corpse.” A flame burned so fiercely in Melody it was nearly crackling. “But how should we
approach the situation with those in the county?”
Hughes thought about that. “I would err on the side
of caution and continue to be discreet. I trust our people to
keep things under wraps, but the best secrets are ones no one needs to keep. Then again, we may want
to include Hubert so that things run a little smoother.”
“We can wait for him to
get back, then bring him here so we can explain,” Luciana suggested.
“That’ll do. Did you hear that, Melody?”
And so the very first
Rudleberg family meeting was adjourned. The specifics of
concealing Melody’s powers would be left up to her discretion, which was a
fittingly inconclusive resolution for the Rudleberg household.
“Before Hubert and the
others return,” Hughes added, “might I check the condition of the estate? I’ll be on tenterhooks if
I don’t see it for myself.”
The count passed through
the Benvenuti Porta door and stepped onto the site of the disaster. Normally, several of
those returning after him would not use the same door he did, lacking
sufficient nobility for such a privilege, but the master allowed it on the
technicality that they were his attendants. Besides, it would have
been silly to cast Ovunque Porta as well.
Hughes took one step into
the county and froze. “What
is this?”
Luciana, Melody, and
Micah croaked in unison. He blanched not at the miserable condition of the estate but rather the
building that had suddenly appeared behind it. The estate was actually
entirely gone, and the clone Melodys were sorting through items recovered from
the wreckage.
“I don’t recall that
being there.”
“We, er, did leave them
with instructions to build temporary lodgings,” Luciana said.
“Lodgings? That’s a miniature estate,” Micah said.
“I-I’m sorry,” Melody
said bashfully. “It completely slipped my mind.”
Indeed, a miniature
estate awaited them. Like the cottage, it was made out of polished lumber rather than full
logs, and though small, it offered all the refinement of a noble’s residence.
The Melodys had painted
the walls white (with paint from God knows where), and tiled the roof in dark
gray shingles like a protective shell. Smoke billowed from a
chimney. For
something made of wood, the place did not look cheap. In front of it, Melody
clones tended to flower beds and put the finishing touches on a fence that
enclosed the perimeter.
“Not off to a very
discreet start,” Micah mumbled.
Chapter 14:
Welcome Home for Now
SOME TIME LATER, MELODY
SPOTTED A MAN running toward them from
the east.
“My lady, Lord Hubert’s
returned…alone?”
“Alone?
Dyrule isn’t with him?
That’s
convenient, I suppose.”
“True enough, but what is
he thinking running off without an escort,” Hughes said.
“Very irresponsible of
him,” his daughter agreed.
Evidently, there was an
entire family tree of pots and kettles. Melody and Micah shot
each other a disbelieving look.
“Do you think it’s
mandatory or something that everyone in House Rudleberg hate their guardsmen?” Micah asked Melody under
her breath.
“I think not, but it
could be hereditary.”
“Welcome home, Uncle,”
Luciana said.
“Good to be home,
Luciana,” Hubert replied. “Gourges was safe for the most part, thankfully. They were spared most of
the shaking.”
“That’s good. Do you have any idea where Dyrule went?”
“Dyrule? Why, he’s… Where did he get off to? He was right there with
me earlier.”
“Quick on your feet as
ever, I see.”
“Dyrule’s just slow!” Hubert guffawed. “Maybe I ought to make the boy run laps with me.”
“Or you could go easy on
the poor man,” Hughes said. “Welcome back, Hubert.”
“Well, thank you, Brother! I may have rushed a bit
in my excitement to report the village’s safety, so I… Brother?” Hubert’s wolfish grin
vanished, and his eyes widened at the man who should not have been there.
“I had some business to
discuss with you,” Hughes said. “Melody, if you would.”
“Of course, my lord.” The maid stepped forward
as instructed. “Welcome
home, Lord Hubert. Please, take this to freshen up.”
Melody handed the
sweat-drenched man a wet towel. She beamed at him as she
did, much in the way she’d practiced in Lect’s class at Royal Academy.
The sweat-drenched man
blushed. “Th-thank you.” He accepted the towel
awkwardly, but found his gaze stuck on the maid’s smile.
A small hand on his
shoulder jolted him from his stupor. “Uncle, I do hope you’re
not developing any untoward feelings for a fifteen-year-old girl.”
“Wh-what?
Of course not,
Luciana. Where
did you get that idea?”
She wore the same dead
smile she’d leveled at Schue. Her eyes turned Hubert’s
blood to ice. “I’m going to take you at your word, Uncle.” Her hand slowly slid off
his shoulder.
He did not question how
she’d reached that high in the first place.
“It’s nothing, really. Melody here just bears a
striking resemblance to my, er, first love.”
“I didn’t know you’d ever
fancied anyone,” Hughes said.
“I never told you. Or anyone for that matter.”
“But why not?” Luciana
said. “You
could have introduced her to everyone.”
“No, I’m afraid I couldn’t
have. When
I knew her, she was already with child.”
The estate itself could
not have fallen more heavily than silence did just then. Hubert’s first love was a
married woman? Should he have admitted to something like that?
Hubert stared off into
the distance. “She’d parted ways with her husband and had no other family to turn to.
She was
going to raise the child on her own. And I fell in love with her.” He chuckled wryly.
“What happened to her?” Luciana asked.
Hubert ruffled a hand
through his hair. “She was just passing through, actually. Leaving the capital,
pregnant as she was. I happened to stumble upon her while she was recuperating from a bout
of fatigue. I gave her a place to stay in Gourges, where she had the baby. She stayed about a year
after that, then continued on to the west.”
“So nothing became of you
two” Luciana said. “That’s a
shame.”
“It was hopeless from the
start,” Hubert said. “She’d separated from her husband but still had feelings for him. It was complicated, she
said.” He paused. “I proposed, actually,
before she left. She turned me down gently at least.” Another harsh chuckle.
Luciana and her father
fell quiet. This was an old wound they’d already pried too far open.
Hubert turned toward Melody. “Your smile reminded me of
her, and it revived old feelings. I apologize if I made you
uncomfortable.”
“Not at all,” Melody
said, still wearing that very same smile.
Hubert’s gaze softened. That’s exactly how Selena
would look. I wonder if she’s well these days.
How sad that he couldn’t
know this was her child and that Selena herself had already gone from this
world. How
sad it was that Melody couldn’t know that Hubert’s love was her mother, and
here, the County of Rudleberg, was her birthplace. One day, maybe they would
both realize, fate willing.
Hughes cleared the air
with a cough. “Back to what it is I’m doing here.”
“Right, I was wondering
that, Brother. If you’ve arrived after Luciana, you must have left not long after her.
Was there
trouble in the capital?”
“Not at all. Not
yet, anyway.”
Hughes revealed
everything to his brother regarding Melody and her magic. The story was certainly
tough to believe at first blush, but one look at the grounds of the estate
convinced him.
“She made this in the
short time I was away at the village?” Hubert said. “‘Incredible’ doesn’t do it justice.”
“I can’t apologize
enough, my lord,” Melody said.
“Apologize? What for?” Hubert said. “I hadn’t given a single
thought to where we were going to sleep tonight. I ought to be on my knees
thanking you.”
A nostalgic smile. A flustered blush. And then the ominous weight of a hand on Hubert’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, Uncle. Need I remind you that I have your word? Am I going to regret
trusting you?”
“N-not at all. It’s reflexive, Luciana, I assure you. I have only one love, and
it isn’t Melody.” Hubert
collected himself. “I’ll pen a report and send it to you soon, Brother. You can base your
response to the situation on that.”
“Now, are Lullia and her
girls still asleep? Good. Luciana, you and I will handle the
edifice that’s just sprung up. It was always
there. Understood? We stick to that story until it sticks.”
“Will that actually work?” Luciana asked.
“It will if our acting
skills are up to it. Stick to it until it sticks. Can you do that?”
“I certainly can,” the
maid said, “but why?”
“It will be hard enough to
sell the bite-sized manor we have here,” Hubert said. “I don’t think we can
pass off a mountain of wood as well. It’s best that we leave
it as is until my brother reads the report and decides on a course of action,
in any case.”
“Understood. I’ll
make it so.”
“Ah, but leave any tools
or documents you’ve found. Missing paperwork will hinder our administrative measures. It should be easy enough
to claim we dug for the paperwork ourselves as a matter of necessity.”
Melody blinked, struck by
the thoroughness of Hubert’s leadership, then gave a lopsided grin. “Very well. Reach—Allungare la Mano—Mille.”
Invisible arms, thousands
of limbs of pure force, lifted the neatly organized piles of wooden debris. Had they been visible,
one could have mistaken Melody for the great, thousand-armed deity Senju
Kannon.
Melody manipulated the
arms all at once, completely in parallel, rebuilding the wreckage nearly
exactly as it was, as if she were working from a blueprint. It happened swiftly and
almost completely silently, not even disturbing the maids sleeping nearby.
“I can certainly see the
need for secrecy.” Hubert
laughed awkwardly.
“We can only hope the
feeling is mutual,” said Luciana.
“She’s a sharp girl,”
Hughes said. “I’d like to think she knows how to control herself.”
House Rudleberg could only
hope and pray.
The work did not take long. Hughes returned to the
capital through the door, the wreckage rebuilt itself, and those who remained
busied themselves carrying the recovered tools and documents into the small
manor.
Dyrule was the first of
the retinue to return from the villages, wheezing for his life. “Lord Hubert… Please do
not do that again.”
“What took you so long,
Dyrule? You
ought to work on those legs.”
The guardsman’s shoulders
heaved, his hands planted on his knees. Let it not be said he
hadn’t tried his damnedest to keep up, for whatever good it did him.
“I’m afraid that’s going
to take…some time,” Dyrule said. “What is that?” The elephant in the room, as it were, finally caught his eye.
“The manor that’s sitting
there. That wasn’t
always there. Was it?”
“Has the heat gone to your
head? That’s
our emergency shelter, Dyrule. We built it in case of an
emergency just like this. How could you have forgotten?”
“Uncle, I think he must
have overexerted himself,” Luciana conjectured.
“So it would seem,” Hubert
said. “Exerted
quite overly indeed.”
“I really don’t think
that would affect my—”
“It’s always been there,”
uncle and niece interjected. They wore blindingly
bright smiles. “Hasn’t it?”
They put up the perfect
defense against anything Dyrule might have said. He quickly forfeited the
battle with a shake of his head. “Yes, yes, it has. It’s always been there. Are you satisfied?”
“Satisfied with what? Well, I’m glad to hear
you speaking sense again,” Hubert said. “It’s always been there.”
“It was such a wise
decision to build it, wasn’t it, Uncle?” Luciana said.
She laughed. He laughed. Everyone laughed. Clearly something was
going unsaid. Nobles rarely put on a show like this without cause, but Dyrule was
powerless to object. It’s rare that our house deals in secrets, but I
suppose this is one of those times.
He sighed quietly enough
that they wouldn’t notice. How in the world did this estate get here? Where had it come from? Dyrule was clueless, but
the Rudlebergs were not unreasonable masters. They shared a mutual trust
with their staff. If they deemed this worthy of such secrecy, it was surely for good
reason.
The guardsman knew his
place well.
Ryan returned next, and
then the maids woke, and they all received the same treatment. Being the practiced
professionals they were, they too picked up on the hidden meaning behind the
deception and arrived at the same conclusions Dyrule had.
“What the? What is
that? Hey, what is that? Guys, are we not going to
question that?”
“It’s always been
there,” uncle and niece said. “Hasn’t
it?”
“No,” Schue stated flatly. “No, it hasn’t. It wasn’t there a few
hours ago, so why is it there now? This is crazy. Someone agree with me!”
Hubert and Luciana kept
smiling.
Schue gawked at the gaudy
mystery monolith, repeatedly mouthing “what?” in bemusement. He was not quite as practiced in servitude as his professional
colleagues. “Lord Hubert, an explanation please!”
“But how are we supposed
to pretend like there isn’t a brand-new estate that just appeared out of nowhere?! Don’t you want to know
what’s going on?!”
The other servants
expressed their feelings on the matter through pinched foreheads and lowered
eyebrows. A
migraine swept through the group.
In came a hand. It landed firmly on his shoulder.
“Hm?
M-my lady? Wh-why, uh, do you look
so mad at me?”
Dread rippled out from
that vice clamped on his shoulder like cold spreading from ice. Luciana smiled and
brandished a familiar fan.
“Go on,” Luciana said. “What do you want to know?”
“Nothing!
What a
lovely estate that’s always been there! Now we have somewhere to
sleep! Oh,
what a kind mistress you are! It’s such a good thing
this has always been there!” Sweat beaded on Schue’s brow.
Luciana released his
shoulder but still wore that dead smile. The harisen returned to
its original fan form. She flicked it open in front of her mouth. “I really wish you hadn’t
come out of that rubble.”
“I-I’ll just go help
unpack and organize!”
The hapless boy hurried
to the manor. Scurried,
rather. Like a mouse. While the other servants
spared no particular sympathy for him, they too thought it best to busy
themselves at their not-at-all-brand-new home.
Melody’s latest creation
was a two-story, wooden marvel. The second floor
contained the family’s living quarters, while a single hallway on the ground
floor housed the servants’, men on one side, women on the other. Small as it was, it still
boasted a parlor and wells for the garden and kitchen. Dug by Melody, of course. The original estate had
had one, so it was no hassle finding a source of groundwater.
Once everyone found their
rooms in this sudden manor nevertheless equipped with all the bare essentials,
they gathered in the dining hall. Hubert sat at the head of
the table, with Luciana and her retinue to the right of him and his retinue to
the left.
“Now, it’s a tad late,
but I think introductions are in order,” the bailiff said.
The county retinue took
the lead. Luciana
had practically grown up with all of them, so they directed their words at
Melody and her colleagues instead.
“My name is Ryan, and I’m
the estate’s butler. A
pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Lullia, the
housekeeper and also Ryan’s wife. How do you do?”
The old couple bowed
together. Each
of them had more than thirty years of experience in their professions, and it
showed. Ryan
was a handsome older gentleman with gray hair, though his size would have
fooled most observers into thinking he was younger. Lullia did up her soft
brown hair just like Melody’s and carried herself with a subdued, pleasant
demeanor.
“I’m Mira, a maid. While I’m younger than Lullia, we’ve served House Rudleberg for nearly
the same amount of time. Please don’t hesitate to seek me out should you have any questions.”
Mira, for her part, bore
a slightly more jovial air. She had a slender build
and fine green hair she kept neatly tied up. She was unmarried.
“You can call me Aasha. I’m another maid. Pleased to meet you.”
The final woman bowed, her
big, red braid slipping over her shoulder. She was the most willowy
of the bunch.
“As I’m sure you know,
I’m Dyrule, and I’m charged with the protection of House Rudleberg. When they want to be
protected, that is.” The guardsman glared at his lord and his accompanying niece. The fierce display didn’t
faze either of them, a testament to how often they’d endured this particular
look. Dyrule
crossed his arms and sighed.
Incidentally, he and Aasha
were childhood friends.
“Last but not least, I’m
Schue! A
real go-getter with the ladies, if I may say so myself, and a hopeless romantic
looking for his better half in a lonely world. Also, I’m technically a
valet-in-training.”
“How very flattered I am
to be a footnote in your introduction,” Ryan said.
His tan skin and bright
blond hair might remind a modern resident of Japan of the stereotypical type of
man who enjoyed flippant and superficial relationships with women. It was hard to believe
he’d saved the family with the quick-witted, rational idea to take shelter
beneath a table during an earthquake.
Micah leaned on the side of unbelievable. This guy’s got looks that
could kill and a body that’s not too bulky but not too slim. He’s literally every
woman’s ideal man—physically speaking. But god, he is so annoying! That attitude ruins everything!
That inane grin of his
certainly didn’t help. It was messy and dumb and stood in stark contrast to all of his other,
sharper features.
“Oh, but when I say I’m
looking for my better half—Micah, I think your name was? Yeah, you’ve got a little
growing to do, but I’ll swing the question by you in five or so years. Even I have my principles.”
“Please don’t talk to me.” Micah’s smile was as cold
and uncaring as Luciana’s.
What in the world is this
absolute gag character doing all the way out here?! If you were at the
academy, I guarantee you’d be in for a world of hurt! The main boys would walk
all over you, creep!
Schue took this all in
stride. “You’re
excited, huh? I am too!”
Micah sighed, because
that was all she could do in this situation. But she was alone. Someone was giggling. Someone very close by.
It was Melody. “Schue’s a funny fellow, isn’t he?”
E-excuse me?! Micah’s jaw hit the floor. On Melody’s other side,
Luciana was similarly aghast. Evidently, they were on
the same page. Hello?!
Miss
Heroine?! Please don’t tell me you just triggered a romance
flag with the gag character!
Luciana gaped, shock
stopping up her throat so only bewildered choking noises could emerge.
Was the County of
Rudleberg going set the stage for a budding romance? Only time would tell.
Chapter
15:
Melody’s Prohibition Declaration
WITH INTRODUCTIONS OUT OF THE WAY, Hubert turned to the next
order of business.
“To the matter at hand. I want to hear your
reports on the damage in the other villages. Ryan. Schue.”
Ryan
led. “My
account concerns the northern territory. I arrived in Tenon after
approximately two hours of travel on foot, but for a mercy, I found no
substantial structural damages. They felt the earthquake,
but not as strongly as we did here. Items fell from shelves,
but that was the extent of the damage.”
“Same for me,” Schue said. “The southwest didn’t
suffer much in the way of collapsed houses. Durnan shook, but the
people looked more shaken than the buildings.”
“Thank you, both of you. Gourges was much the
same,” said Hubert. “The silver lining to losing our estate is that the disaster spared our
people.”
The knowledge that there had been no casualties
lifted a weight from the entire room. But Melody was still
confused. Complete structural collapse of wooden buildings. That means upward of a
magnitude six earthquake. Yet only two hours away by foot it barely knocked things off shelves? That would put it at a four. No. This world’s architecture
can’t be as resilient to earthquakes as Japan’s. It would have to be even
lower than a four. How
is that possible? How could the tremors be so concentrated?
Melody studied a map of
the county laid out on the table. At the center of a
triangle of villages stood the estate. A road ran through it—the
one she and her lady would have come in on.
About an hour out, it was
a magnitude five. Or
is an hour inaccurate? There was a lot of winding along the road from what I could see from
above. As
the crow flies, we were a good deal closer than any of the villages. But that means…
Placing the earthquake at
a magnitude in the upper sixes at the estate, five where Melody first felt it,
and less than four even farther out in the villages painted a stark picture. A picture that put the
estate at the center of a quickly deteriorating tremor that weakened the
farther it spread from its source.
Some subterranean
phenomenon must have triggered a particularly localized earthquake just below
them. How
unlucky could the Rudlebergs possibly be? But there was hardly any
point in bemoaning the pettiness of a natural disaster.
If we’re at the
epicenter, I need to warn everybody.
Oftentimes, smaller
earthquakes followed the largest tremors. They could experience
continued periodic shaking, especially after an earthquake as big as this one. Some aftershocks could
even be even larger than the original quake. In such cases, some
experts debated whether “aftershock” was an appropriate term.
Just as she was about to
voice her concerns, Schue’s hand shot up. “So to summarize, Lord
Hubert, it seems like the epicenter was here at the estate.”
“It was strong enough to
topple the building here, but in the villages things only fell from shelves. My lady, how intense was
the shaking where you were?”
“Enough to make standing
difficult,” Luciana said.
Schue considered that. “I
see. And
you were closer to us than any of the villages, so I think it’s safe to assume
we were at the center of the earthquake.”
“I have to admit, that’s
not a theory I like,” Hubert said. “I only hope rumors don’t
spread.”
“There are more important
things to worry about, Lord Hubert. There could be more,”
Schue said.
“More?
More earthquakes? In such quick succession? Our last one was over a
century ago.”
“It depends on the type
of quake it was. If it was a subterranean collapse, then things could still be unsteady.
It very well
could happen again.”
“That is not a theory I like.” Hubert crossed his arms,
deep in thought at Schue’s explanation.
Melody blinked at Schue. This was so unlike him. No sooner had she pieced
all of it together than Schue put it into words. The boy was sharper than
he let on. To
reach those conclusions as a former citizen of Japan, where such knowledge was
a matter of life or death, was one thing, but as a resident of this world where
earthquakes were so rare? His powers of deduction were simply incredible.
Schue quite possibly had
just made his first and only ally in the room.
“Melody, he says it can
happen again. What
are we supposed to do?” Luciana’s eyes shone with tears as she looked to her maid. These quakes were not
familiar to her and thus left her frightened. She could not soon forget
the sight of her home reduced to rubble.
Melody offered her a
reassuring smile. “Rest assured, my lady, this estate has been thoroughly reinforced in
the event of a repeat. There’s practically no chance it will come down.”
“I guarantee it. Ah, but there could still be jostling, so we ought to rearrange your
bedroom so that nothing could fall on you while you’re sleeping.”
“Okay.
Yeah.” Luciana exhaled heavily. “That’s good to hear.”
Hubert glanced at his
servants and agonized. What happened to discretion?
Talk was cheap, and
Melody’s magic was all-encompassing. They had not forgotten
their intent to conceal, but that intent proved difficult to execute. And the two worst
offenders were particularly oblivious.
The meeting did not last
much longer after the revelations about the epicenter of the quake. They couldn’t do much to
act on Schue’s warning save wait and hope. They made a point to
watch out for objects falling during the night, and the discussion ended.
“As for the upkeep of the
estate, I don’t want to upset things too much,” Hubert said. “Ryan and Lullia, I’d
like you to operate as normally as possible and continue to take charge of your
respective retinues. We should settle into a rhythm. We may be here for some
time.”
“Yes, my lord,” the
couple replied.
“What about my people?” Luciana asked.
“Melody and Micah, I want
you to answer to Lullia but continue to look after Luciana,” said Hubert. “Rook, I’m told you have
lessons with Ryan.”
The capital retinue
voiced their assent.
“How long will you be
staying with us, by the way?” the bailiff asked.
“Until the nineteenth. We intend to leave on the
twentieth.”
“Two weeks, then. Plenty of time to make yourself at home. Well, what’s left of it,
that is.”
“Uncle, you’re putting
your foot in your mouth again.”
Luciana and Hubert
bantered good-naturedly. The loss of her childhood home should have pained Luciana, but she and
her uncle found humor in even that situation.
Where in the world does
she learn these phrases?
Melody knew exactly which
words to put in Luciana’s mouth and which words not to.
Melody opened her eyes
just as the sun peeked over the horizon the next day, August 6th.
She swiftly dressed in
her uniform, then made her way to the foyer to receive her duties for the day. Nine servants, including
her, waited for instruction, which made gathering in the kitchen a tad cramped.
When Melody arrived, she
found that the butler and housekeeper had beaten her to the meeting. “Good morning, Master
Ryan, Madam Lullia.”
The couple returned her
greeting with genial smiles.
“I thought I would be the
first one here. You’re awfully early,” Melody said.
Lullia giggled. “Aren’t you a passionate one? We’ve a brand-new estate
to work with today, so I could hardly keep my eyes shut long enough to sleep
last night.”
“We were of a like mind,”
Ryan said. “We
were just chatting to pass the time.”
“Is there room for one more? I was so excited I
couldn’t help but get up early too,” Melody said.
“Well, we won’t put that
enthusiasm to waste, I assure you,” said Lullia. “We’re glad to have you.”
Ryan and Lullia welcomed
the young maid’s youthful energy. It threatened to rub off
on them as well.
“Good morning, Schue. I’m glad you could join
us,” Ryan said pointedly. “Next time, do us the courtesy of arriving earlier.”
“I’m sorry, it was just
those beds. They’re
so comfy I could hardly drag myself out of mine.”
“If it wasn’t the beds,
I’m sure you would have found some other excuse,” Ryan said. “You showing your face
mere moments before work begins is nothing new. Never mind. Just line up with the rest.”
“Yes, sir,” Schue yawned
again. That
earned him a head-shake.
Ryan and Lullia stood in
front of the line. From left to right stood Dyrule, Mira, Aasha, Rook, Micah, Melody, and
then finally Schue.
“Morning, Melody,” the
latter said.
He made that loose, melty
grin, instantly transforming the stud into a dud. Melody didn’t seem to
care one way or another.
“Hey, so you’ll have some
days off while you’re here, right? Do you maybe want to—”
“Schue,” Ryan snapped. “Quiet.
I’m about
to announce the morning agenda.”
The valet went straight
as a rod. “Yes, Master
Ryan! Sorry, Master
Ryan!”
Melody let a chuckle slip. That boy always seemed to
be up to something.
Ryan waited for silence. “Dyrule, patrol the
estate’s perimeter, then return to your position with Lord Hubert after
breakfast. Assist
him with his duties. As for myself, I’ll be instructing Rook and Schue this morning.”
“Understood,” the
guardsman replied.
“Schue, Rook, after this,
you’re to come with me and learn about your duties. Milady was kind enough to
provide us with a horse, so we’ll begin with husbandry.”
The trainees affirmed
their understanding.
Ryan nodded, then
deferred to Lullia. “Your girls, if you would.”
“Of course.” His wife addressed the maids. “Mira, Aasha, you’ll be
on breakfast duty.”
“Melody, go with them to
assist. You’ve
been serving morning tea at the capital, I hear. I quite like that, so
we’ll be taking inspiration from you. Prepare a cup for the
lady and Lord Hubert, would you?”
“Micah, dear, you’re
still in training, is that right? You can come with me
after we’ve disbanded and help with my duties, which would normally include
cleaning, but seeing as that isn’t necessary, I suppose we’ll use the time to
familiarize ourselves with the estate’s layout. Polish a few things here
and there?”
Lullia gestured to Ryan. The butler cleared his
throat and assessed the line of servants one last time. “We’ve unfamiliar
hallways to walk with unfamiliar associates, but remember that each and every
one of you is united in service to House Rudleberg. Behave yourselves
accordingly, and I will do the same.”
The underlings sounded off. And so the morning began.
The men went outside,
Dyrule on his patrol and Ryan to the stables with his new pupils. Lullia and Micah vanished
with their cleaning supplies. Melody and the remaining
maids departed at once for the kitchen.
“All right, let’s whip up
something tasty,” Mira said, taking charge as the oldest of the group.
“Yes, madam!” Melody and Aasha replied.
The kitchen came alive. Melody would not be around
long and so accepted a simple assistant role for the benefit of the mainstays
of the county retinue.
“We’ll do bread and soup
for breakfast, I think,” Mira said.
“I think I saw bacon
too,” Aasha said. “Shall
we fry some up?”
“An excellent idea, Aasha.” Mira cheerfully pulled
vegetables out of the pantry. “You do need to eat bacon
quickly before it goes bad. Let’s
do it!” She
was in a sunny mood that morning. “It’s a good thing milady
brought so much food with her. We might have had to go
without the bread otherwise.”
“What with all our stores
being ruined along with the estate, I’m inclined to agree.”
That food had, of course,
come from Melody’s magical cupboard of wonders. Between the many herbs
she’d gathered from her infamous trips to the woods and the vegetables she’d
bought in bulk at the market for cheap, she had stockpiled quite a bit. She’d baked the bread in
the travel cottage but claimed she’d purchased it in town on the way there.
“And it’s thanks to
Melody’s group we have any utensils to use,” Mira said. “All the food in the
world wouldn’t matter much if we couldn’t cook it. It can’t have been easy
digging these out, Melody. Thank
you.”
“I’m simply happy to be of
help,” Melody replied.
She’d unearthed most of
the cooking utensils from the rubble of the previous estate. The familiar implements
helped Mira and Aasha work at their best, even in the unfamiliar environment.
Amid the idle
conversation, breakfast proceeded apace. Mira dexterously chopped
vegetables while Aasha fed firewood into the cookstove.
“Something the matter?” Mira
asked.
“Oh, no,” Aasha said. “The jug is just a little
lower than expected.”
“Ah, we did make soup for
dinner last night. We must have used some water then.”
“Allow—” Melody started
to reach for the jug but stopped herself midway.
Aasha cocked her head to
one side. “Melody?”
“I’ll, um… I’ll fetch us
some more!”
“Of course! I’ll need it for the tea anyway, so two birds with one stone!”
“If it isn’t too much
trouble.”
Melody exited through the
door that connected the kitchen to outside.
That was close, she thought. I nearly filled the jug
with magic on reflex.
She stopped in front of
the well, placed a hand on her chest, and took a breath. “I’ve come to rely on
magic more than I thought. It’s time I broke that habit.”
Come to think of it, she
could count the number of times she’d fetched water from a well on one hand. Magically conjured water
was simply easier to produce, fresher, and cleaner. Something about it made
it excellent for brewing tea as well. The aeration, perhaps.
“I don’t need magic to be
a maid. From
now on, no spells during work.”
Melody scrunched her
brow, filled with determination, and hurled the bucket down the pit.
“Hm.
I suppose that
makes sense.” Luciana sipped the early morning tea Melody had delivered while Mira
and Aasha continued with breakfast.
Melody had just confessed
her anxieties to her lady.
“You have been awfully
frivolous with magic in the past,” Luciana said. “We must be careful. You never know what could
expose you. You
will be careful, won’t you?”
“Anyway, you remember
what we talked about yesterday during the meeting, right? About this afternoon?”
“I do, my lady. You have plans to romp about—that is, inspect the villages, yes?”
“That’s right. It’s no
romp. Strictly business. We’ll start with Gourges
Village to the east.”
“As you wish. I’ll see to preparations at once, my lady.”
Melody’s lady was not
good at hiding her excitement when she got giddy. Melody would never tell
her that, though.
Chapter 16:
Luciana Does the Rounds
“YOUR CARRIAGE AWAITS, MY
LADY.”
“Thanks. I’ll be
right there.”
On the afternoon of August
6th, Luciana and her retinue assembled for her inspection of the county’s
easternmost village, Gourges. The lady herself was
going, of course, but also Melody, Micah, Rook, and—
“Enough, Grail! Sit
still!” The
most well-behaved ancient evil of all time had endured the majority of this
adventure via sheer laziness—and thus mostly gone unnoticed—but its hour had
come. The
wicked Luciana had ensnared the pup and now cradled him in her arms.
Hubert chuckled. “He’s a rowdy one, isn’t he?”
“He loves to be chased,
which is awfully cute, but it can make him a handful.”
I’ll show you a handful
if you don’t get your hands off of me! You’re covered in that
wretched, saintly stench!
Luciana interpreted none
of this from the trembling pup in her embrace, of course.
“I’m glad you’re getting
to have some fun,” Hubert said. “With things the way they
are here, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you much of my attention.”
“That’s okay, Uncle. I’m not at all surprised
that you’ll be busy with the estate given the situation.”
Hubert shrugged, a weary
look on his face. “If you don’t mind, when you’re not too busy enjoying yourself, give
these to the mayor. That’s all I’ll ask of you. Promise.”
Luciana huffed. “I’m not going there to ‘enjoy myself,’ darn it! I’m visiting on behalf of
my father, the count, to observe the goings-on!”
Her uncle guffawed. “Yes,
of course. How could I
forget? Keep
a sharp eye out for me, will you?”
The maid accepted the
documents for Luciana, seeing as her arms were full of Grail. Luciana skipped over to
the carriage in a most businesslike manner that undoubtedly spoke to the
immense amount of business she would conduct during her outing.
“And you keep an eye on
her for me, Melody,” Hubert said.
The carriage rolled off
toward Gourges.
Luciana sat in her seat,
humming cheerfully and stroking Grail’s fur. It made for lovely
ambiance as the countryside rolled by outside the window.
“My lady, what kind of
place is Gourges?” Micah asked, sitting opposite Luciana.
“What kind of place is
Gourges?” she parroted.
“You just seem really
chipper about going there. Is it a fun place? Is there something you’re looking forward to?”
Luciana thought for a moment.
“Not particularly. There are fields where
they grow wheat and other vegetables but not a lot else. It’s a plain village, just
like the other two.”
Melody giggled. “Our lady’s just excited to be back home and see her people.”
“N-no I’m not! It’s
not that! It’s not that
at all!” Luciana
squeezed Grail in her arms and shook not just her head but her entire body in
fierce denial. Clearly the mannerisms of a lady telling the truth.
Grail howled as his ditzy
owner swung his body to and fro.
Gourges Village lay about
a two-hour walk east from the Rudleberg estate. A carriage could cut that
time in half. Luciana and her entourage arrived in a little over an hour but to
little satisfaction.
“I can’t believe this!” huffed Luciana.
The carriage had become a
sauna of pouty rage.
“Take it as a
compliment,” Melody replied through an amused chuckle. “It goes to show how
beautiful a lady you’ve become.”
Luciana was not feeling
quite that magnanimous at the moment.
Like most villages,
Gourges protected itself from bandits and monsters and such via an exterior
wall. As
they passed through the gate, Luciana had hailed the lookout on the wall, a
young man whom she knew, only to be met with little enthusiasm.
The gatekeeper had spoken
but three words: “And you are?”
He hadn’t recognized her. This did not please Luciana. Melody had to hold her
lady back, lest she strike the poor man with her harisen. Talking her down was
still a work in progress, doubly so because this very display of hotheadedness
had jogged the gatekeeper’s memory, which only stoked Luciana’s rage all over
again. And
round and round they went.
Luciana sheathed her
harisen only after a dozen or so heartfelt apologies, and reluctantly at that. But one had to be
understanding of the gatekeeper’s struggle. Luciana before and after
Melody was a night and day transformation of infomercial proportions—a
transformation Micah could attest to, having known her lady’s original self
from the game.
I have to cut him some slack, the girl admitted. Anyone who knew her
before would never make the connection. If anything, that guard
had more manners than me. I’d have called her crazy for assuming I’d recognize her after she went
and got all pretty.
Micah couldn’t know that
a certain marquess’s daughter had arrived at that same conclusion herself.
“Where to, my lady?” Melody
asked.
“To the mayor’s house, so
we can pass along those documents. It’s also about the only
place we can park the carriage.”
By the time they arrived,
word had already spread throughout the village. A young girl stood in
front of the building to greet them.
“It has, Lady Luciana. Welcome home.”
The girl called Qila
smiled softly and bowed. It took the small girl down below even Luciana’s height. Her plain, brown,
chest-length hair billowed in the breeze. She put a hand to her
cheek and sighed wistfully.
“I see the capital has
polished you into the diamond you always were,” she said. “Look at you.”
“Y-you think so?” Luciana
stuttered. “I wouldn’t
know.”
“I certainly do. It’s no wonder Rand mistook you for someone else. Why, you’ve come into
such beauty, I just might swoon.”
Rand happened to be the
young man they’d clashed with at the gate. Word traveled fast in
these parts.
Luciana wore the same
summer dress she’d worn the day they left the capital styled with a shawl
draped over her shoulders. Instead of a ponytail, however, her hair spilled freely down her back,
and she wore a straw hat to shade her skin from the sun. She would have made an
excellent model for a resort back in Japan.
“I’ve brought papers with
me from Uncle Hubert,” she said. “Is the mayor in?”
“I’ll fetch him. Come in and make yourselves at home.”
They were guided inside
to a humble dining table. Mayors of villages were not so privileged as to have parlors like their
noble superiors.
The mayor appeared
shortly thereafter. He and Luciana chatted for some time before she delivered the
documents.
“I thank you for these,
Lady Luciana,” he said. “And I apologize for the trouble.”
“I wanted to come visit
anyway, so it was really no trouble on my part. Well, that’s all the
business I had to attend to, but would you mind if I took a look around the
village?”
“Of course not. Qila, be a dear and escort her, would you?”
“Yes, Father,” the girl said.
“This way, Lady
Luciana.”
After bidding the mayor
farewell, Luciana followed Qila out. Melody and the others
trailed close behind.
“Oh, that’s right. Qila, I forgot to introduce you. These are my maids,
Melody and Micah, and Rook, our valet-in-training.”
“Good day, Madam Qila. Melody, at your service.”
“I’m Micah, maid-in-training.
Nice to meet you.”
“Rook.
Valet-in-training. Pleasure to make your
acquaintance.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet
all of you,” Qila said. “Well, this is quite the attractive entourage you’ve collected, milady.
I didn’t
know you had such discerning tastes.”
“It wasn’t on purpose! It just so happened that
everyone we hired turned out to be really good-looking!” Luciana protested.
Qila hid her mouth behind
her hand and tittered. “I’m
only joking. On to the
village.” She continued
along.
“You two seem awfully
close,” Melody said to her lady as they walked.
“We sort of grew up together.
We’d play
together whenever I came to visit as a kid.”
Qila turned. “Where
should we go? Honestly, you know your way around the village well enough on your own,
so I’m not actually sure where I’m meant to escort you.”
“Let’s start with the
wheat fields. I want to see how the harvest is coming along. Could you tell me how
things are?”
“Lord Hubert hasn’t told
you?”
“I’ve only just arrived,
so he hasn’t told me much of anything. Is there something I
should know?”
Qila considered that. “It would be faster to
show you, I think. This way.”
She guided them to fields
that should have spread golden before them. And they did. But something was wrong.
Melody frowned. “My lady, is this standard for a crop in the county of Rudleberg?”
“No.
This doesn’t look
right. Is it
happening again this year?”
“This is the best of the
crop, actually,” Qila said. “Thanks to Lord Hubert’s
efforts to rejuvenate the soil, things have improved somewhat, but it’s still
far from where it should be.”
The field was dull, the
wheat stunted and lagging behind in its development. There would, thankfully,
be something to harvest this year, but much like last year, these fields would
not produce the bounty one might have hoped for.
“We reap in a month. We’re hoping to see a
little more improvement before then.” Qila ran her hand over a
stalk. The
plant drooped as much as her words.
“A
month?” Melody said. “I should think you’d be
harvesting around now.”
“Not in our territory. We harvest in September
and sow in the spring,” Luciana said.
“This is the spring wheat
strain then.”
“That’s right. Everywhere south of and including the capital plants winter wheat. The northern territories
primarily plant spring wheat.”
This staple crop came in
many different strains, the two most prominent being named for their growing
seasons. Winter
wheat was planted in autumn, grew through winter, and was harvested the
following summer. Spring wheat, true to its name, was sown in spring and reaped in fall
of that same year.
In areas with mild
winters, the cold supposedly brought higher yields, and so most favored winter
wheat. However,
in cold climates where other vegetation struggled to survive, spring wheat
reigned supreme.
The county of Rudleberg
must endure harsh winters, Melody surmised. Spring wheat already
yields less than the winter variety, and they’ve been suffering bad harvests.
“According to your
estimates, what’s the projected profit from this year’s yield?” Luciana inquired.
“Optimistically? Not enough,” Qila replied. “I expect we won’t turn a
profit at all. Which we can weather this year, just like we did last year, but if this
continues into the following year, or the one after that…”
Count Rudleberg’s skilled
handling of last year’s crop failures had secured him a position at the Royal
Chancery, but he was no miracle worker. If these bad harvests
became a pattern, it would place his house in dire straits indeed.
“Is it the same in the
other villages?” Luciana
asked.
“I’m afraid so. No one can figure it out. The quality of the soil
seems fine. We
haven’t suffered a drought. It’s anybody’s guess as
to why our wheat refuses to grow.”
“Pardon me,” Micah said,
timidly raising her hand, “but would this not be a case of soil fatigue?”
Anytime crop yields fell,
soil fatigue leapt out as the prime suspect. Planting the same things
in the same places over and over depleted the soil of nutrients, but the
solution was simple: crop rotation, alternating what you planted where.
It’s such a common thing
in these fantasy reincarnation stories, Micah thought. Trouble in the farmlands? Soil fatigue! Step one in the
agricultural revolution!
“That’s a well-documented
phenomenon, and all of House Rudleberg’s territories make use of long-held crop
rotation practices,” Qila said. “I’d be surprised if that
were the cause.”
“But the thought is greatly
appreciated, Micah.”
“Sorry I wasted everyone’s
time.”
The mystery remained a
mystery. Luciana was
stumped. Micah had
been shot down. Rook certainly had no idea what to make of this. Even Melody could not
deduce the cause. As mad as this maid was, even she lacked the superhuman ability to
diagnose something so complex at a glance. If she could, she might
have been more monster than maid.
“I’ll speak to my uncle
about it,” Luciana said.
They’d left the field
behind and were making their way back to the mayor’s house when they spotted
three villagers on their path. They were huddled
together and speaking frantically.
“What’s everyone doing here?” Qila asked.
The villagers appeared to
be farmers, but not of wheat. “It’s my crops, ma’am. There’s something strange
about them.”
“Strange?”
Qila repeated. “Strange how?”
The men explained that
during their morning rounds, they noticed a patch of their crops with odd,
black speckles. They insisted the blemishes had not been there yesterday.
Qila and Luciana
exchanged glances, then nodded to each other.
“I see the speckles,”
Luciana said.
Curious dark spots marred
several of the plants. Some appeared only on the leaves, while others dotted the vegetables
themselves.
Melody spoke with one of
the farmers and, upon obtaining permission, tasted a sample of a speckled
tomato. She froze.
“How is it, Melody?” Luciana asked.
“It’s not quite sour how
a tomato should be. It’s more bitter… Astringent.”
“My
tomatoes?” the
farmer said in disbelief. “That
can’t be.”
“Is it much the same for
the other fields?” Luciana
asked.
“Better, I might say. This one’s had it the
worst as far as I’ve seen,” another farmer said. “Mine hasn’t quite reached
this state.”
The farmland lay near
Gourges’s west-facing gate, and at least a fifth of the crops seemed affected
by the blemishes. The other two fields, sitting closer to the village center, fared
slightly better, but the damage was far from insubstantial.
“What in the world could
be causing it?” Melody
wondered.
Suddenly, Grail started
barking.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you
were here.” Naturally, Luciana had completely forgotten she’d even brought him
along.
Grail’s eyes were trained
on Melody, slobber dribbling from his snout. Or rather, his eyes were
trained on what she was holding.
“You want this?” Melody
asked.
Melody knelt down and
offered it. “You won’t
like it. It’s
bitter and gross and—”
Grail snatched it anyway. Melody stared in mute
surprise while he gobbled the whole thing up.
“He practically inhaled it.” More barking. “What? You want more?”
“I suppose I don’t mind
parting with the lot. They’re not fit for people, that’s for sure. Only hope they don’t hurt
the poor thing.”
“That worries me too,”
Luciana said. “I don’t think you should be eating those, Grail.”
Grail thought differently. Grail craved only tomato. So when it became
apparent he wouldn’t get it from his masters, he darted off into the field. But the pup was too small
to reach any of the red delights hanging from the vines, and started gnawing on
leaves instead.
“What?
Oh, lord,
you’ll eat anything,” Luciana said.
The
pup om’d and nom’d, but never actually bit the leaves clean off. Only gnawed.
“Enough,” Luciana said. “Take that out of your
mouth.”
Grail yipped in protest
as Luciana scooped him up. He struggled, for what good it did him, while Luciana held him firmly.
“What a nut,” Luciana said. “How can those spots
possibly be that appetizing?”
“It’s strange he likes
them so much,” said Melody. “I found it rather
unpalat… Hm?”
The maid’s eyes went to the leaves Grail had gnawed. She squinted. Those had spots on them
before, didn’t they? Where
did they go? The leaves looked spotless
now. Maybe I
was mistaken. In any case, this is quite the mystery. First the wheat, now this
strange disease infecting the other crops.
Melody took an infected leaf between her fingers and
frowned. Assuming it is a disease, that could necessitate culling the entire
field. If
only there were a way to get rid of these pesky things. She ran her thumb over the
leaf and glared at the speckles.
They shattered under her
touch.
As she brushed the dark
spots, they lifted from the leaf and shattered in the air like glass.
Melody yanked her hand back. The fragments of the
broken blemishes dissipated on the wind. When she looked back at
the leaf, it was spotless.
“What is it, Melody?” Luciana said.
“If you say so. I’ll make a note to inform the mayor and my uncle about what we saw
here. We’ll
need to do some deeper investigation into this. In the meantime, leave
everything as it is. If it spreads, I’ll recruit my uncle and we’ll pull up anything we have
to.”
“I’d be much obliged,”
said the farmer.
“I would’ve liked to take
a walk around town, but this warrants hurrying home, I think. The sooner Uncle knows
the better. Let’s go,
Melody. Melody?”
“Oh, yes. Of
course, my lady. I’ll bring the carriage at once. Rook?”
Before leaving, Melody took one last look at the leaf
she’d touched. Still no spots. The only explanation I
can think of is my mana. If what my lady says is true, and it really is the vastest in the
kingdom, then maybe…I can get rid of the blemishes.
Meanwhile, in Luciana’s
arms, someone else was doing some thinking of its own.
Delicious.
Positively
delectable, these blighted crystals! Negativity in its purest
form. I demand more!
Chapter 17:
A Maid’s Midnight Mission
“THE BLEMISHES ARE IN
DURNAN AND TENON too?” Luciana asked.
“We received reports
shortly after you left for Gourges,” Hubert said.
“The accounts from the
other villages match what you told me,” Hubert said. “Sightings that began today. I’ve been told that
yesterday, everything was normal, but today, farmers spotted those speckles on
everything from leaves to stems to fruit. According to taste-tests,
they make the affected vegetables terribly bitter and near inedible.”
“Certainly not for Grail,
though,” Luciana muttered.
She and Hubert shot a
sideways glance at the pup snoozing in his basket in a corner of the dining
hall. Such
lethargy and such a cute little belly would lull anyone into assuming this was
just a goofy young mutt.
“It could be an
epidemic,” Hubert said. “We’ll have to observe the situation closely over the next few days.”
“I’ll keep my eye out for
any changes,” Luciana said. “Also, though you
devoured far less than Grail, you still tasted the infected product, didn’t
you, Melody? Tell someone if you start feeling sick, okay?”
“Yes, my lady,” said
Melody while delivering the after-meal tea. She smiled reassuringly.
Hubert accepted a cup and
brought it to his lips. Moments later, his eyes flew wide. “This is delicious.”
“Melody’s tea always is,”
Luciana said with no small amount of pride.
“You must have made this
with the leaves you brought,” Hubert said. “What brand is it?”
“Belleschwit,” Luciana
answered.
“Nobody can match Melody
when it comes to brewing tea, Uncle.” Luciana took a smug sip.
Hubert studied the brown,
gently rippling liquid in his cup, then turned to the maid. “Melody, would you be
willing to share your secrets with my people? Lord knows they try, but
this is by far the best cup of Belleschwit I’ve ever had. Lullia, if you’d be
willing to learn.”
“Certainly, my lord,” the
housekeeper said. “Is now a good time, Melody?”
“Of course. If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” said Melody. She curtsied most
perfectly, then vanished into the kitchen with Lullia.
Hubert waited until they
were gone to lean back in his chair and sigh. “This tea is the only
good thing that’s happened today.”
“Uncle…” Luciana’s
expression darkened. “What are we going to do?”
Hubert shrugged. “What
we can. We’ll
ascertain the situation, and if the spots have spread overnight, chances are
we’ve a blight on our hands. In the best-case
scenario, we simply uproot the infected plants. In the worst…”
“We’ll have to cull
everything?”
They did not speak of it
again that night.
“Thinking on this
afternoon’s events?”
“Yeah.
I wish I
could do something, but…” Luciana trailed off. “Some homecoming this has
turned out to be, huh?”
She couldn’t help but
laugh wryly at the whole thing. What had happened to all
that joy and levity and excitement she’d felt on the way here? Had her home collapsing
not been enough? The villages had to suffer too? The earthquake was one
thing, but now her family faced yet more hardship. And she’d only been here
two days.
“I’m going to go with my
uncle when he inspects the villages tomorrow,” she said. “Which is not exactly how
I wanted to spend my birthday, but here we are.”
“Yes, that’s right. It is your birthday
tomorrow, my lady.”
Luciana lay in bed, and
Melody snuffed the lights. Luciana stared up into the darkness, restless. It reminded her of her
nightmare from a few days ago. Nothing remained of the
dream but the frostbitten scar of fear it left in the pit of her stomach.
Maybe it was supposed to
be a warning of what was to come.
Naturally, the
fragile-hearted sought meaning in such things, even when there was none.
If it was supposed to be
a warning, though…then that means…
Exhaustion both mental
and physical took hold. Her thoughts slowed, blended, melded together, going intangible and
fuzzy as they faded.
It was a scary dream… It
wasn’t a good one, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t all…bad…
In moments, she was asleep. It all returned to her in
that instant: the fear, the door, her inability to stand as it closed in on
her, and the girl who’d appeared in a flash of silver light. Her hand, most of all. Its warmth.
The sounds of slumber
filled the darkness of her room.
While Luciana slept,
Micah lay awake in her own bed, mind racing.
“The Rudleberg estate. Gone with an earthquake. Poor harvests. Black
spots on crops. None of this ever happened in the game.” Certainly, nothing like
this ever occurred in The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths. “August of the first year is supposed to be all romance fluff. There’s not supposed to
be all this serious plot stuff.”
Micah rolled around in
the fancy bed Melody had made her, digging through her brain for a crumb of a
hint from the game that might serve them in some way. Unfortunately, she found
nothing.
She shot up. “Wait a
second. House
Rudleberg should be totally defunct right about now.”
Luciana Rudleberg, the
Jealous Witch, mid-boss of The
Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, should have hit rock
bottom by now. A count’s daughter in name but ignoble and unfit for the title. The subject of scorn and
scrutiny. She
was supposed to view the heroine from that vantage of inferiority and pain,
witness the privileged life she led, and envy her. The Dark One would then
take advantage of her despair to control her and turn her into the game’s first
boss encounter.
That was what Luciana
Rudleberg should have been, the
colloquially named Tragedy Girl, on account of her subsequent death, after her
defeat, at the hands of the Dark One. First, she was an Ignoble. Then, a puppet. Then, a corpse. To make it worse, hers
was the only actual death in the entire game. “Tragedy Girl” was an apt
moniker.
“The count worries
constantly for her after she closes herself off,” Micah recalled. “He starts failing at
work, he’s dismissed from the Chancery, and then he’s forced to turn to crime.”
But the count was a good
man, one entirely unsuited for dark dealings. They apprehended him
almost immediately, thus setting in motion the entire Jealous Witch Incident,
culminating in the climactic battle and later leading to the end of House
Rudleberg entirely.
“The game takes place
pretty much entirely in the capital, so I guess anything that happened in their
territory wouldn’t come up much during the main narrative. Right?”
Micah wasn’t satisfied
with that conclusion. She hugged her pillow, flopped onto her back, and stared at the
ceiling.
“Either way, all of this
is just cruel. First, an earthquake flattens her home like a pancake, then the harvest
fails, and now some kind of disease has hit the vegetables. At this rate, the house
won’t manage to stay afloat and…” Micah shot up again. “And they’ll loop back to
being Ignobles.”
All these ill-timed
misfortunes happening one after the other. They might have overcome
a bad wheat harvest, but when coupled with the plant plague and the complete
destruction of the countship’s base of operations, what could they do? Only sheer good luck
placed quick-thinking Schue in their path during that quake, otherwise they
could have lost much, much more than the estate.
How would Luciana’s heart
have weathered that? How would the Rudlebergs’ finances?
Such a disaster would
doubtless incur massive debt and extensive sacrifices. Plus, they’d lose their
family on top of it all. Luciana certainly could have detached herself from reality and closed
herself off after something like that—which would worry the count, which would
mean mistakes at the Chancery. What if that resulted in
his dismissal? The count would lose his income. Hughes would have nowhere
to turn. Nowhere but
the illicit. They would catch him before long, and they would surely make an example
of him.
It would be the end of
House Rudleberg.
Saddled with immense debt
and the loss of her status, Luciana would suffer scorn and scrutiny. The wounds carved into
her heart would deepen and fester as her peers turned against her. Her reputation would fall
all the harder too. She would become not just the Fae Princess, but the Fae Princess who’d
fallen from grace. The things people would say…
Ultimately, she would
have to wonder: Why her?
Then, “Such exquisite envy. Such delicious darkness. You have been wronged,
and you crave justice. Justice I can provide, my new pawn!”
“And then she’d become the
Dark One’s puppet. The
Jealous Witch! Yeah, right. No way! No way it goes that far!”
Micah buried her face in her pillow and flailed her
legs. It’s totally absurd to think the world’s throwing things at Luciana
with the intent to turn her into the Jealous Witch. That can’t be. It’s like some narrative
force is trying to shove things back on track or something. That’s crazy… Right?
“Ugh, I could at least
bounce ideas off of someone if Anna-oneechan were here!”
Eventually, by some
miracle, Micah managed to worry herself to sleep.
Melody returned to her
room, but did not remove her uniform. In near complete
darkness, she lowered herself onto the edge of her bed. Only the faint moonlight
trickling in through the window illuminated her figure.
She looked down at her hand as she recalled the
afternoon’s revelations. I had thoughts when I
touched those speckles. I
wanted them gone. Every last
one.
And then she’d touched
them, and they went away, like dust in the wind.
She could think of only
one explanation: her mana. It was special, apparently. They said she had unique
powers. It
didn’t feel that way to her, but this was what she’d been told. She was different. To Melody’s knowledge,
this was the one thing that separated her from the average individual.
It’s my magic. Can I use it to get rid of those spots?
Perhaps. It warranted testing, but it was late now. She could convene with her
lady and Hubert in the morning.
Melody shook her head. I may only get their
hopes up for nothing. I mustn’t do that to them.
She remembered standing
behind her lady earlier, imagining the brave smile she must have been wearing. She could not fool Melody. Luciana bore a pain she
valiantly stuffed down. With her in such a state, Melody could not bear to give her lady hope
only to rip it away.
In that case, I’ll just
have to test my theory now! I’ll go to the village
and see for myself what my mana can do.
Once resolved, she acted
decisively. She threw open her window and incanted, “Hide—Trasparenza. Flight—Ali da Angelo.”
Invisible to the naked
eye and borne aloft by wings, Melody took flight. A girl clad in black and
white soared through a starry sky that night.
She scanned the ground
but quickly encountered a problem. It’s too
dark to see anything.
The county slept at this
hour, and had therefore snuffed all their light sources. Without a means to get
her bearings, Melody couldn’t even discern which way was east. She considered using
Ovunque Porta, but she’d promised her lady she would be discreet with her
magic. The
chances that a passerby would see her were slim this late at night. Even so, Melody had
deemed flight the least risky method of travel, especially since she could do
it while invisible.
Granted, that presented
its own problems.
Luce would only light my
immediate surroundings. Anything strong enough to act as a spotlight would attract too much
attention. What should I
do?
She could not use any lights.
So then how
could she see in the dark unaided?
Rook can concentrate mana
in his eyes to enhance his sight, Melody recalled. I wonder if I can perhaps
give myself night vision with the same method. She shut her eyes and
tried. Not the green-shifted intensification of goggles but proper night
vision. The
ability to see the world as it exists in darkness.
She opened her eyes once
more.
I did it! I can see! Her efforts had borne fruit. The world revealed itself
to her. To
Gourges!
Melody darted through the
night sky like a comet. In minutes, she reached her destination. Ensuring there were no
potential witnesses, she glided over the village’s wall and landed in the field
she’d inspected with her lady.
Through her enhanced
eyes, Melody could easily pick out the blemishes infecting more and more of the
crops. Earlier
today, the blight affected a fifth of the farmland; now at least a third
suffered the strange disease. Melody was right to have
hurried.
Please work, she prayed, placing her
hand on a speckled tomato. She concentrated her mana at her fingertips. Please. Please disappear!
Crack. Mere moments after coming
into contact with her mana, the spots shattered like glass, leaving behind a
healthy, red tomato.
It
worked! I did it! I can… Huh?
Melody followed the
fragments of that mysterious blemish. Her augmented eyesight
allowed her to track it as it rode the wind, becoming imperceptible to the
average eye. She watched it glide away until the particles found purchase on yet
more tomatoes. Whether it hit a vine or leaf or the fruit itself, it burrowed in and
festered.
Melody was dumbfounded. Her magic wasn’t removing
the spots, simply changing them into a form that allowed them to infect yet
more crops. Oh, what do I do? How do I save the farm?
She shut her eyes and
thought. Ostensibly,
all she could do was break the spots. The problem, then, was
what to do with the waste product before the wind could scatter it and spread
the disease.
Waste, Melody could deal
with.
“I’ll just take the
garbage out! Ali da Angelo!”
Wings sprouted from her back.
She
launched herself into the sky and glided to the village center, scanning the
surroundings with her enchanted eyes. The black blemishes,
pregnant with darkness, appeared to her as scars on fair skin.
It was worse than anyone
had thought. But it went far deeper than initial impressions. There was a skew to the
distribution of the blemishes. They seemed to be
concentrated on the western edge of the village and radiating east. Melody didn’t know enough
to figure out why this pattern occurred, and it was secondary at this stage
anyway.
She spread her arms wide. “Come, arcane winds—Argento Brezza.”
A breeze rolled through
the village. Stiff but
not violent. Gentle but
not weak. Pleasant. Enough to ruffle leaves
and shake branches; enough to make one comment on the fairness of the day’s
weather.
It’s only a breeze. Even if someone wakes up,
they’ll think nothing of it.
From high above, Melody
controlled the winds as a conductor might an orchestra. The breeze drifted through
town as she swung her arms, then it passed through the fields, carrying with it
a magical power that spelled doom for every blemish in its path.
As she carried out her
massacre, Melody eventually realized that the spots were
mana. Concentrated,
solidified mana clinging to the crops. Something about Melody’s
mana clashed with these dark tumors. They could not maintain
their structure in her mana’s presence, and with their dissolution came a
crackling that only mages of particularly sharp hearing could perceive. But even if such an
individual existed in the village, Melody’s wind carried the sound away.
The breeze blew past
leaves and roots and fruits most would call vegetables. It swept away the
blemishes as it went, but were that the end of it, those marks would have
settled somewhere else to infect anew. Fortunately, Melody’s
silver gale clung tightly to the dark dust. It carried the fractured
mana up and away, gathering it in one place. The mana seemed to
naturally coalesce; one speck could grow into a visible stain, after all.
Melody let it coalesce. She collected every bit of
dark mana polluting the town’s agriculture and condensed them in one spot.
An hour of this later,
Melody deemed the village free of contaminants. She regarded the fruits
of Argento Brezza’s labor—a ball of pure dark energy large enough to hold a
human man. Raising
her hands, she next summoned her winds from the town to the skies above to
begin a magical battle. Mana
versus mana.
Melody surrounded the orb
with Argento Brezza and pressed down on it from all sides. The dark mana resisted. Condensing so much of it
in one location seemed to alter its properties. It did not like being
this confined. It
wanted to diffuse. Expand. This must have been what
gave rise to the epidemic, but the winds kept bearing down, and the ball grew
denser, shrinking to the size of a face, and then further still. Eventually, it seemed to
reach a limit.
The winds died. The ball surrendered to gravity and fell. Melody caught it in her
palm and studied it. It was the size of a marble now and dark as night, matte, without
luster. She
ran a small amount of her magic through it, and a crack opened. Her mana repulsed it,
even in this state. Soon enough, though, the crack healed itself.
Melody stowed the bead
away in her magical storage and landed on the farm she’d visited earlier. Not a spot in sight. Only bright red tomatoes. She glanced left, then
right, muttered a quiet apology, and picked one. She took a big bite.
It tasted as a tomato ought. None of the bitterness
lingered. Tears
of relief stung her eyes. Before they could fall, she quickly finished the rest of the tomato and
wiped the tears away.
Now I know I can save the
villages with my magic. If I want to be as cautious as possible, I should do it all tonight. Right! Let’s do this!
She faced southwest and
made for Durnan, but stopped after only a short way.
She whipped around. Nothing.
Nothing lay
behind her but the sleeping village. So then why couldn’t she
leave? Why
did she feel like something was calling to her?
It wasn’t over. Something told her so. Something beyond reason. That was why she’d stopped.
She found herself
standing before the field of stunted wheat. The disease was here too,
something told her. Melody strained her enhanced eyes, studying the wheat closely, but
found no sign of the blemishes.
But the mana is here, she thought. I can sense it. She didn’t know why she
was so certain, but something told her she was right.
She parted the stalks and
continued to search. Still
nothing. Maybe it’s not blemishes this time. Maybe it’s…
This harvest had failed
because the wheat had not grown properly. There was very little to
actually harvest because so little of it had developed as it should. It wasn’t a matter of
soil quality. The crops were getting plenty of water. The wheat had everything
it needed to thrive, so the problem could only have originated from one place.
Maybe it’s the roots. They aren’t absorbing the
nutrients they need. The dark mana had to
reside in the soil. That must be where the
blemishes came from in the first place, but then why doesn’t the wheat have any
spots? Where’s the
divergence? Moisture?
Wheat required relatively
little water to grow, especially compared to other staples like rice. That the tomatoes and
cucumbers had developed outward symptoms while the wheat had only struggled
developmentally may have meant the dark mana was using water as a mode of
transportation, hitching a ride on it from the soil into the plant itself. Wheat also had less
surface area. Perhaps the mana had no room to materialize structurally and so
accumulated in the soil instead, eventually reaching high enough concentrations
to hinder growth.
All theories, of course,
and Melody didn’t care to waste time having them peer-reviewed. She placed her hands on
the topsoil and circulated her mana through it, like she’d done for Luciana
when testing her for spell casting ability. She waited for something
to react to her energy.
She didn’t have to wait
long before quite possibly (and literally) unearthing the solution to these
poor harvests. Almost instantly, dark mana burst from the ground and dispersed around
the area.
But how do I collect any
of this? I
can’t blow wind through soil… Oh!
Melody produced the black
mana bead from her personal storage. She observed two
diametrically opposed characteristics in it: The mana was drawn to itself, and
it wanted to spread itself. The bead in her hand was stable, meaning at this size, its attractive
force outweighed the dispersion force. Her hypothesis was
immediately proved correct when she placed the bead on the ground and the mana
particles surged toward it. The bead soaked them up
like a sponge, but only those particles that Melody had already forced up out
of the ground. Those still settled in the earth didn’t respond.
She got to work,
expanding the range of her mana, circulating it wider and farther underground.
Gourges, Durnan,
Tenon—east, southwest, north—Melody toured all over the county, exorcising the
dark mana from the vegetation and soil alike. She did not finish until
orange began to peek over the eastern ridgeline.
Melody returned to her
room a zombie, changed into pajamas, and instantly collapsed into bed. The soft mattress forced
out a sigh.
She pulled the bead of
concentrated mana from her storage. It rested on her palm
next to her face as she gazed at it. Even after two more
villages’ worth of dark magic, it never exceeded its original size. It was but one of a
myriad of mysteries, but solving those mysteries could wait.
The maid smiled. She’d
done it. It
hadn’t been easy—it had taken the entire night, even—but the work was done. And it had only cost her
an ocean’s worth of mana. Melody was going to feel this when she woke. Already, her limbs ached.
Her thoughts finally slowed. Her muscles relaxed. She let her guard slip.
Now my lady can have…a
proper birthday. I’ll just…close my eyes for…
Bead still in hand,
Melody drifted to sleep. Sunrise was only minutes away. She would have to get up
for work then. But for once, the mighty Melody needed a break.
Melody found herself in
darkness, an unfamiliar void.
Someone was speaking. A disembodied voice. Ageless and fathomless.
It was getting closer. Melody couldn’t find its
source. She
tried to speak, to ask who it was, but her throat closed up around the words as
it drew closer still.
Strangely enough, Melody
felt no fear.
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
Melody jolted awake. She recognized this place. She was in a room, one
she’d made herself, one located in the servants’ corridor of the temporary
estate she’d built after the Rudlebergs’ original manor fell.
It
was her room. This relieved her for
some reason.
Still a little…er, very
sleepy.
A glance out the window
showed the sun about halfway up the eastern mountains. She couldn’t have been
out for more than an hour. She had to hurry or she’d be late for the morning roundup.
As she heaved herself out
of bed, she noticed something resting in her palm. “Oh. I never
put this away.”
Melody gazed at the little
bead, the amalgamation of all the dark mana in the entire county. She wanted to be rid of
it for good, but all she could do was break it down into dust that would spread
and place the villages in danger all over again.
Her eyes narrowed. I suppose I’ll have to
hold on to it until I learn how to dispose of it.
Stowing it away, she
quickly got dressed and hurried out of her room.
“Good morning, Master
Ryan, Madam Lullia.”
“Good morning, Melody,”
Lullia replied.
Again, the old couple had
beaten her to the foyer. Melody approached them, but her legs carried her hardly a step before
they buckled. “Huh?”
She hit the floor. Ryan and Lullia rushed to her.
“Goodness, Melody, are
you all right?” Ryan asked.
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I suppose I tripped.”
“Your complexion looks
pale, dear. Come here.” Lullia put a pleasantly
cool hand to Melody’s forehead. “You have a bit of a fever. You ought to rest today.”
“What?”
Melody’s
eyes went wide and she started to protest.
Lullia shook her head and
shut her down. “The exhaustion from the trip must have finally caught up with you, and
with all the chaos that’s followed, it’s only natural you’d be a little under
the weather. As this estate’s housekeeper, I’m ordering you, Melody: You’re to take
the day off to recuperate. A proper maid takes care of herself.”
On August 7th, the day of
her lady’s birthday, Melody took her first sick day ever.
Chapter 18:
A Lady’s Liability
LUCIANA WAS CONFUSED WHEN LULLIA arrived to wake her up
on the morning of her birthday. She very nearly spilled
her tea when she heard the news.
“That’s right, my lady. She arrived at the
morning meeting looking a little unwell and collapsed. I detected a hint of a
fever, so I’ve instructed her to take the day off. I don’t expect it to
affect our performance, seeing as we already have quite a bit of help at our
disposal these days.”
“I-I see. It must have been that tomato she ate yesterday!”
“She’s not shown symptoms
of stomach trouble yet, but I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Allow her some space, if
you would. It
could be contagious, and she’s finally getting some sleep. It took some doing, but
once I managed to get her into bed, she was out like a light.”
“Okay,” Luciana said. “Fine.” She stared out the
window, completely forgetting to drink her tea.
After Lullia helped her
dress—a task that would have been Melody’s—Luciana boarded the village-bound
carriage. She
was joining her uncle, Hubert, along with guardsmen Dyrule and Rook, and Micah,
who would be her attendant.
“The estate’s in your
hands,” Hubert said to Ryan.
“Lullia, keep an eye on
Melody for me,” Luciana said.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll check in on her
anytime I find a gap in my duties.”
Dyrule snapped the reins,
and they were off. Behind him, inside the carriage, sat Hubert and Rook with Luciana and
Micah opposite them.
“I didn’t think Miss
Melody was even capable of getting sick,” the young maid said.
“You and I both. Nothing like this has ever happened before.” Luciana sighed, casting
her gaze out the window. She had to wonder what the last straw on her quickly deteriorating
mental fortitude would be. The flattening of her home honestly should have been the first and last.
“It looks like snow,”
Rook mumbled.
“Snow?
It’s the peak of
summer. What
are you talking about, Rook?”
Micah chimed in. “I think he means in the sense that today’s all topsy-turvy, my lady. Like that pigs might fly.”
“Is Melody falling ill
really cause for that much surprise?” Hubert asked.
“She’s always bursting
with energy,” Luciana said. “We have to twist her arm
anytime we want her to take a break because she uses all of her personal time
for being a ‘maid for fun,’ as she calls it. She’s never so much as
caught a cold, much less collapsed on the spot.”
“Sh-she works even during
personal time, does she?” Hubert
said.
“She says it rejuvenates
the heart and body more than any day off could. We’ve caught her working
behind our backs on multiple occasions,” Luciana said.
“Slacking behind an
employer’s back, I’ve heard of, but working? That’s a new one.”
“Melody’s simply that
enamored with being a maid. She’s usually so
meticulous about staying healthy.”
“And she seemed perfectly
fine just yesterday,” Micah said. “It had to have been the
tomato, right?”
“Grail’s what makes me
doubt that.” Luciana remembered the way he’d scarfed down the breakfast Rook served
him, then promptly went to sleep in his basket, just like the lazy mutt he was.
Luciana gasped at herself. My cute little Grail? A mutt? What am I thinking?
She focused on of all his
most adorable traits. Like the way he whined and howled and ran anytime you tried to touch
him. The way
he inhaled food like it was his last meal. The way he napped so
often Luciana halfway doubted he wasn’t actually a cat.
“Okay, maybe he is a
mutt,” she said.
An assessment that would
surely flatter the Dark One.
“Nothing, Micah. Talking
to myself.” They had more pressing things to worry about than Grail’s status in
Luciana’s mind.
A few moments of silence
passed before Hubert said, “Let’s go over the day’s agenda, just so we’re all
on the same page. We’ll be touring all three villages to get a grasp on the current
situation, beginning with Gourges. Then we’ll head north to
Tenon before turning south to Durnan. We’ll inspect the fields
and speak with the mayors and the villagers to get a clearer picture of what
we’re dealing with. Once we have one, we’ll consider our next move. It ought to take a full day. Luciana, are you
unchanged in your decision to accompany me for this?”
“But it’s your birthday. You’re more than welcome
to relax at home, though I’d do more for you if that were feasible.”
Luciana shook her head. “There’s too much at
stake to really get into a birthday mood. I’d rather put all this
anxious energy toward the good of the people. I want to help.”
Hubert regarded her. “I understand. Then I’ll welcome your aid. Now, Micah, you ought to
stay at her side while she’s at mine. Rook, her safety is your
top priority.”
“Yes, my lord,” the valet
said.
“You can count on me!” Micah assured. “Lullia even made lunch. I’m totally prepared!”
She proudly held up the
square basket resting on her lap. Luciana and Hubert
couldn’t help but smile as she struggled to lift the thing with her tiny,
ten-year-old arms.
“Not that we’d need it if
Miss Melody were here,” Micah said, setting the basket down.
Dyrule excluded, as he
was outside the carriage, everyone present was familiar with the situation
regarding Melody’s magic. Micah relished the few moments she had to speak freely.
“When we arrive, I want
everyone to look sharp. Remember your duties,” Hubert said.
All present voiced their
enthusiastic understanding. Little did they know how
unnecessary it would prove very soon.
The carriage rolled past
Gourges’s gate and toward the mayor’s house. The mayor himself and his
daughter Qila stood outside, already expecting them.
“Greetings and welcome,
Lord Hubert, Lady Luciana,” the mayor said.
“Well met, Mayor,” Hubert
replied. “To
the point, I’d like to discuss the matter of your crops.”
The mayor exchanged looks
with Qila.
“What?
Has it gotten worse?” Hubert asked.
Perhaps something had
changed overnight. His gut told him to steel himself for the worst.
“You mean to say,” Hubert
deduced from his confused narration, “that the spots have all gone?”
The mayor explained on
the way to the fields. Beside him, Luciana received the same explanation from Qila while they
walked.
“This morning, we went to
see if anything had changed, but we couldn’t find anything,” Qila said. “Nothing. Not on any of the
vegetables, even the ones we knew had spots yesterday.”
“They vanished?” Luciana
said. “All of the
blemishes? Even in
the other fields?”
“Yes, milady. We just recently finished examining them and found not a single spot.”
They came to the field
Luciana had visited yesterday. The same farmer was hard
at work today as well, though with a bit of extra pep in his step.
“The good news is you
aren’t blind,” Hubert said. “I don’t see any spots either.”
“I swear to you, milord,
we speak the truth,” the mayor said. “They were there, and then
they weren’t.”
Hubert chuckled. “I
believe you. The other villages and my own niece corroborated your claims. I don’t doubt what you saw.”
“Melody ate one, for
goodness’ sake,” Luciana added.
“I notice she isn’t here,”
said Qila.
“Yes, well, she’s…not
feeling well today.”
“Oh, I hope it wasn’t the
tomato she ate.”
“It’s hard to say. She has a fever, so she’s resting at the estate.”
Hubert rumbled in thought. Mysterious spots. There one moment and gone
the next, taking their secrets with them. Having never seen them
himself, Hubert half suspected mass hallucinations, but this was only the
beginning.
“Milord, I had something
else to bring to your attention,” the mayor said.
“The wheat? Has something happened to it? Heaven have mercy, not
now of all times.”
“You misunderstand, milord. The harvest isn’t worse,
it… Perhaps you ought to see for yourself.”
Hubert wearily agreed. What in the world could
it be this time? His head throbbed with questions as they made their way to the wheat
fields. The
moment they arrived, however, all his ruminations ground to a halt.
“I share the sentiment,
milord,” said the mayor.
“What do you think?” Qila asked Luciana.
“It’s incredible,” the
lady breathed.
Luciana’s senses were as
overloaded as her uncle’s. These could not possibly be the same wheat fields she’d visited
yesterday.
An abundant bounty spread
before her.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hubert asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,
milord,” the mayor said. “We found it like this when we went to walk the fields this morning.”
A sea of gold—a true sea of gold—rippled in the wind, long, mature stalks reaching for the
sun and ready for reaping. Harvesting in a month hardly seemed worth the wait anymore.
Hubert waded into the
ocean of gold with the mayor and inspected the crops more closely. Even from afar, Luciana
could see her uncle’s mirth.
“I’m in awe,” Luciana said. “And it all shot up
overnight?”
“As are we. I haven’t the foggiest idea how it happened,” Qila replied. “It’s as if they were
asleep all this time, then finally woke and raced to maturity all at once.”
More puzzles for the pile. Why had the wheat
struggled for so long? Why had the problem fixed itself overnight? Questions heaped upon
questions with no answers in sight, but at least Gourges’s harvest appeared
safe. Luciana
quietly celebrated the unexpected removal of one item on their long list of
worries.
It would have been even
better if a new fear didn’t sweep in instantly to replace it.
“It really is incredible. Like something out of a
storybook,” Qila said. “It’s as if a great, powerful mage came down to grant us a miracle.”
“Like a what?” Luciana and Micah said together.
“What did you just say?” Luciana asked.
“It’s as if a great,
powerful mage came down to grant us a miracle?”
The lady and the young
maid fell silent.
“Is there a problem?” Qila
asked.
“It’s nothing, Qila. Actually, I’m feeling a
little thirsty. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How inattentive of me. I did actually make an
excellent variety of herbal tea that I can prepare. Just a moment.”
“You’re too kind.” Luciana waited until Qila left, then heaved a sigh. “I knew Melody falling sick was suspicious.”
“With how careful she is?” Micah agreed. “Miss Melody is definitely a great, powerful mage, but even she gets
weak in the knees when she works a miracle like this.”
“Would it kill her to
tell me these things beforehand?”
It was immediately
obvious now who the miracle-worker had been. There was only one suspect.
“Should we tell Lord Hubert?” Micah asked.
“Not yet,” Luciana said. “Not while the mayor’s
still around. He has to make sure everything looks okay anyway.”
“I’m almost positive it
is, but better safe than sorry.”
“We keep what we just
learned to ourselves for now, understand? That means you too, Rook.”
Hubert was still romping
about in the wheat, his gestures rife with jubilation. Luciana only slightly
envied his innocence. Only
slightly.
“Do you think it’s the
same at the other villages?” Micah
asked.
“I’d assume so. You know she isn’t the type to leave things half done.”
“I guess that explains
her nearly passing out.”
Luciana laughed with Micah. “That it does.”
Qila returned shortly. “Pardon the wait. This is the herbal tea I mentioned. It works wonders on the
nose and throat.”
Later, they moved on to
Tenon, then Durnan, and each shared similar good news. Hubert couldn’t make
heads or tails of it, but neither did he care to question it. All was well, and he
would not look this gift horse in the mouth. Little did he know the
gift horse was Melody.
She stirred, prying open
heavy eyelids. She blinked until the world came into focus. She…did not immediately
recognize this place.
She truly did not know
this place. The first thing that greeted her was the perfectly sculpted features of
a beautiful woman. Her,
she recognized.
“My lady, what are you
doing here?” Melody asked.
“I’m here to see you,
silly,” Luciana said. “I
lied, actually. It’s not
morning. It’s
evening, and it’s about time you woke up.”
Melody glanced out the
window. Orange
had become orange yet again. She’d slept the entire day
away.
Luciana set a hand on her
forehead. “Your fever
broke. Can you sit up? Are you thirsty?”
Though her body lagged
due to grogginess, Melody could move. She sat up, accepted a
glass of water from her lady, and drank the whole thing.
“Thank you, my lady. I
needed that.”
“I thought so. Does
anything ache?”
“No, my lady. I feel
well.” Indeed,
she wasn’t sick at all anymore.
“Good.
At least
knocking you out is the only thing using that much mana does to you.”
Those words pierced Melody
like a dagger. Luciana
grinned.
“We visited the villages
today,” Luciana said. “You’ll never believe it. All the blemishes were gone. The wheat harvest is
looking quite abundant as well. Unbelievable, right?”
“Uncle frolicked in every
field we visited, you know. I found it hard to get excited, though.”
“That gave me time to
think about how all of that could possibly happen overnight. You did something with
your magic, didn’t you?”
Luciana sighed. “Tell me these things before you do them, Melody.” She clung to her maid and
buried her face against her stomach. “Do you have any idea how
scared I was when I heard you’d collapsed?”
She hugged her tighter. “I was terrified.”
“I’m sorry, my lady. Terribly
sorry.”
“But thank you. For saving the villages,” Luciana croaked. “My people are my family. You protected them. Without you, there’s no
telling how bad it could have been. Thank you, Melody. Thank
you.”
Melody could not see her
lady’s face, but she could hear the fragility and shaking in her voice.
She stroked Luciana’s hair. “Rescuing a village or
two is all in a day’s work for a maid if it means safeguarding my lady’s
happiness.”
The maid’s words warmed
the lady’s heart, thawing the icy tension that had crystallized around it over
these past few days. Luciana had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from soaking
Melody’s clothes with tears.
When the threat passed
and her feelings had settled, Luciana removed herself, smiling. “Lullia’s actually working
on a special birthday dinner for me, since we got back early. You’ll be there, won’t you? If you’re feeling better,
that is.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for
the world. Oh, but
I should go help. I’ve neglected an entire day’s work.”
“Don’t even try it. You are not a maid today.”
“Actually, I misspoke. You’re not a maid today or tomorrow!”
Luciana grinned at
Melody’s flash of panic. “Consider this your punishment for keeping secrets from me. I’m grateful for what you
did for the villages, but I’m less grateful about you hurting yourself to do
it. A good
maid takes care of herself, Melody!”
“My lady! Please, my lady, anything but this! I beg you!”
“Everyone was worried
sick after your little episode. I’ve already spoken to
Lullia and Uncle, and they both agree. It’s already decided, so
make your peace with it.” Luciana chuckled smugly.
Melody slumped forward. “This can’t be happening.”
Luciana grinned like a
fae trickster after a prank gone right. “Whether you like it or
not, you’re going to have some fun tomorrow!”
The lady’s radiant voice
rang through the room and down the hall. More than any other, these
were the sounds that best suited any Rudleberg estate.
Chapter 19:
The Date
“MELODY, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” Luciana said when she
stomped into Melody’s room the next morning.
Melody sat meekly before
her lady, who cut an intimidating figure with her legs squarely shoulder-width
apart and arms crossed. Though this very same fiery lady had ordered Melody to take this day
off, the maid wore her uniform.
“Nothing, Lady Luciana,”
said Micah, poking her head out of a dark closet. Her face betrayed a lack
of surprise, as well as disappointment at her lack of surprise. “This is the only thing
she has to wear.”
Frustration and
resignation dragged a sigh out of Luciana’s mouth. “Melody, could you please
explain why you don’t have a single thing that isn’t a uniform in your
wardrobe?!”
“I’m sorry, my lady! So sorry, my lady!” Melody blubbered. She had neglected to bring even one article of plain clothing.
“You didn’t plan on
taking a single break on this trip, did you?!”
“She isn’t denying it,”
Micah said coldly.
It was true. Melody had every intention of spending every single day for three whole
weeks, including travel time, on the job. What need had she of
plain clothes?
“How many times do I have
to say this?!” Luciana
snapped. “Take! Time! Off!”
“It makes it very hard
for us peons to rest if the boss never does, Miss Melody,” Micah pointed out.
The defendant withered. “I’m sorry…”
Luciana and Micah sighed
again. Just
moments ago, they’d come to this room because it was almost breakfast time, and
Melody had yet to show her face. They worried her illness
might have relapsed. What they found instead was an awkward Melody standing stock-still in
her maid uniform.
“I meant it when I said
you were taking the day off. You’re not keeping that
on,” Luciana had said.
“I-I knew you’d say as
much, but…”
“But what? Get changed. Unless… Micah, check her
closet.”
“No, Micah!” Melody
had cried. “Don’t!”
Micah checked the closet. The results of her
investigation led to their present revelation: Melody did not possess anything
but uniforms.
“You can leave your
uniform on for now, I suppose,” Luciana said. “It’s time to eat.”
“We’ll figure out your
outfit after breakfast, Miss Melody!” Micah said.
“Okay,” the maid
relented, sagging.
After their meal, they
returned to Melody’s room, where they resumed brainstorming.
“Our one saving grace
here is that she can make any clothes she wants with magic,” Micah said. “We can work with nearly
anything.”
“True,” Luciana said. “Melody, unravel one of
your uniforms and let’s whip up something new.”
“You ask me to slay one
of my own children, my lady!” Melody
gasped. “That’s
sacrilegious!”
“Are maid uniforms a
religion to you, Miss Melody?” Micah asked.
“You reap what you sow,
actions have consequences, et cetera,” Luciana said. “You would have no need to
slay your children if you’d brought other clothes in the first place.” Luciana jabbed a finger
at Melody. “You did
this, Melody! These threads are on your hands!”
Melody fell to her knees,
hands over her face. “I…
What have I done?”
“What am I looking at?” Micah had to ask. To her knowledge, they had not practiced for any play.
The conversation drifted
toward lighter topics, like what kind of outfit Melody should craft.
“Please be gentle,” Melody
said.
“Lady Luciana, what do
you think of something a little bolder? I know it’s a lot of
skin, but I think she could pull it off.”
“She can’t go out in a
skirt that short, Micah. You could see her thighs! You might be onto
something, though.”
“What about a sleeveless
knit turtleneck? Accentuate
the chest! Make it sexy!”
“Modest suits Melody
best, I think. Something
innocent. Ruffled sleeves?”
“Pants might be good too. I’m thinking low-rise. A little navel.”
“She’d look amazing in
pigtails, I bet. We could arrange an evening dress into something more appropriate for
daytime.”
“Gothic, hm? That
could be cute. What if we…”
“I said be gentle please!” Melody cried.
Otome gamer and
heroine-lover Micah, together with Luciana, the staunch Melody-enthusiast,
formed an intimidating duo. The bloodshed had only
just begun.
Micah gasped. “Miss Melody, you look so cute.”
“Finally,” said Melody,
for an entirely different reason than her lady.
The process lasted an
hour, an exhausting hour full of nitpicking and suggestions and this-heres and
that-theres. But they’d completed an outfit at last.
Melody wore a frilly,
white blouse with loose, ruffled sleeves open at the shoulders, breezy and
perfect for the weather. The black and white layers of her skirt fell to her calves. A vertical row of three
white buttons defined her waist at her midline. A sliver of skin peeked
above a pair of black booties—paired with black socks—for a striking accent to
the ensemble. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, though it wasn’t at all plain
thanks to a sunhat with a black ribbon that matched her skirt.
“Miss Melody’s ready for
a day out!” Micah said.
“I’m starting to wonder
how we wound up with black and white as the main colors,” Luciana said. “We looped back around to
maid.”
“It’s what she looks best
in, after all. It doesn’t look like a uniform, and that’s what matters.”
“This is most certainly not a maid
uniform!” Melody
agreed vehemently.
So it was that the maid
found herself in possession of a new set of plain clothes.
“I’m going to be studying
administration with Uncle,” Luciana said.
“And I’ll be attending to
her,” Micah added.
And off they went, just
like that.
Left with the ambiguous
order to “enjoy herself,” Melody paced the
hallway, wondering what in the world to do with herself.
“What is one supposed to
do on a ‘day off,’ exactly?”
Her lack of direction
came partly from her single-minded interest in all things maid, to be sure, but
the quietness of the Rudlebergs’ demesne did not help matters. The estate stood on a
plain at the center of a triangle of equidistant villages. There was nothing around
for miles.
The other servants, Schue
excluded, had grown up in this area. Often, they would take
their vacations in small bursts to spend time in their hometowns. Needless to say, this did
not help Melody’s plight.
Micah did say I was ready
for a “day out,” so I suppose I’ll take a short walk. Then maybe do some sewing
in my room.
A sad schedule for a
fifteen-year-old girl.
Melody headed for the
estate’s back door. She’d built one there for servant use, the front being reserved
exclusively for her mistress and other such personages.
The temporary estate had
nothing in the way of a genuine garden, but Melody hadn’t skimped on flower
beds. As
she exited through the back door, she found someone outside tending to them. A bag lay nearby, filled
with dirt and weeds. The person hummed to himself as he watered the flowers.
The boy finished his song. “Oh, is that you, Melo…dy? Holy cow, you look amazing.”
Mouth agape, Schue
dropped the watering can and hurried closer. “I mean amazing! You’re so pretty, Melody! Right, I forgot you have
the day off. Me too! Gosh, you’re pretty!”
“Is that a question?” Schue
snorted. “You’re
awful cute, you know that?” He donned that melty grin
of his.
Melody, faced with an
avalanche of compliments, could only blush. The boy was right, though. Lect would have suffered a
dire case of mumbling had he seen Melody then. That was the difference
between the two boys: Schue spoke his mind.
“You said it’s your day off?” Melody said. “And you’re out here tending to the flowers?”
“Something about
gardening speaks to me. I’m doing it because I want to, don’t worry.”
“I see you’re in your
usual clothes too.”
Indeed, Schue wore his
servant’s uniform. Melody assumed he lacked anything more suitable for menial work.
Schue grinned. “Actually, I don’t own anything else. It’s never really been a
problem.”
“I’m quite happy in my
uniform as well, but my lady disagrees. She just released me from
a lengthy lecture.”
“Oh, well I’m on her side
on that one. I’d be angry too if I was robbed of a sight like this. It’s perfectly
understandable.”
“Girls are pretty, and
they ought to dress like it.” Schue nodded, agreeing
with his own argument.
Fashion as a concept was
lost on the maid, however, at least when it came to herself. Hypocrite that she was,
she quite enjoyed dressing up her lady.
“Were you on your way
somewhere?” Schue asked.
“Just taking a walk. I don’t have much else to
do, as it happens.”
“Nothing to do?” Schue thought about that. “Do you maybe want to do
something with me?”
“The horse that drew your
carriage is in the stable, right? Why not hop on it and
take a ride? We could reach one of the villages in no time and return just as
quickly.”
“Going by horse…” Melody
mused. “You know
how to ride one?”
“Do
I? It’s
practically my specialty!” Schue flashed his teeth and beat his chest.
Melody considered the offer. It certainly appealed more
than a plain old walk. They could maybe even stop by Gourges so she could see the fruits of
her labor herself.
“I accept,” she said. “If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Yes!
Horseback date
with Melody!”
“I-I’m sorry?” the
maid said. Yet
she could not outright deny him as he skipped around in joy.
While Schue saddled the
horse, Melody went to the kitchen to make lunch, preparing simple sandwiches
for the two of them and stowing them in her new tote bag. Its designers couldn’t
possibly have imagined it finding a use so quickly, but Melody was pleased that
it had.
She rendezvoused at the
stable. “I
hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Schue.”
“Not at all. Only just got here myself.” He snickered. “Oh man, it really is a date.”
Melody laughed too. Not at the same thing as
Schue but rather at the fact that such silly things tickled him so.
Schue prepared the horse
for riding, planted his foot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. With a goofy grin, he
offered his hand to Melody, who accepted. He hoisted her up behind him.
Melody sat
sidesaddle, on account of her skirt, hugging her arms around his waist for
security.
They started at a trot,
clipping and clopping away from the estate. Melody marveled at the
scenery. How
different it looked from just a little higher up. She’d seen it from much
higher when she flew, but this point of view revealed new things in new ways.
“Not nervous, are you?” Schue asked.
“No.
It’s just
curious how much the world can change from a different vantage point. I could gaze at it from
here forever.”
“Glad you like it. How’s about a change of scenery, though?”
“Huh?”
Melody
yelped as Schue cracked the reins and sped up.
The horse jostled them as
it galloped, destroying the serenity of the scenery. Melody had to cling to
Schue’s back, much to his delight.
“We’ll come out on a
clearing soon,” he said. “Keep holding tight if you want, but don’t forget to take in the view.”
“Wha—I…W-will do!” Melody replied with difficulty as the bumps and thumps jolted her.
Riding horseback was not
the same as riding a bike, motorized or otherwise. Bikes did not have four
stomping legs. They also weren’t living, breathing creatures attempting to maintain
their own center of gravity. Horses did not come with
safety features. It was all Melody could do to keep from sliding off or snapping Schue’s
spine from the force of her arms around him.
Schue did not mind, of
course. Schue
was in no pain whatsoever.
Gradually, Melody
adjusted to the shaking and swaying and started to appreciate the nature around
her. “How beautiful.”
Whipping wind. Hissing
grass. Her ears
soaked it all in. This was an altogether different experience from a speeding carriage. The animal was beneath
her, alive and stomping. It
was liberating. She dared to admit she liked it.
About half an hour later,
the horse slowed to a walk as they reached a meadow.
“How was that?” Schue
asked. “Fun?”
“Very.
Aside from my
aching rear.”
He laughed. “Sorry
about that. Wish
we had a proper saddle for two.”
“It isn’t your fault. Thank you for the experience. I’m glad you invited me.”
“Gah, she’s perfect!” Schue moaned. “Be mine, milady, I
implore thee!”
“I’m sorry, but I’d much
rather focus on my work.”
“Swing and a miss! Ah well, that’s fine.”
It is? The speed at which he’d
gone from dejected to neutral left Melody dizzy. Apparently, it took more
than that to faze a man who’d been turned down by every fair maiden in the
county of Rudleberg.
“What now?” he asked. “Take a look around here
more? We
can go to one of the villages if you want.”
“I’d like to see Gourges,
if possible, to see what’s become of the crops.”
“Oh, yeah, there was a
lot of commotion about that. All right, to Gourges it is.”
“After that, we can have
lunch. I made sandwiches.”
“A
date and a handmade lunch?! It’s my lucky day!”
They made for the eastern
village at a comfortable canter. That was another thing
bikes lacked: stamina.
They arrived at the gate
an hour or so later, and the lookout stopped them. Rand, pulling Schue aside
and turning his back to Melody, whisper-yelled, “Schue! Who is this?! She’s stunning! Stunning, I tell you!”
“Isn’t she? She clung to my back the whole way here, you know.”
“I ought to stick you, you
fox!”
Rand and Schue happened
to be birds of a feather. Melody tilted her head to the side as she watched them hiss back and
forth from afar.
“She’s Lady Luciana’s maid
from the capital,” Schue told him.
“The capital? Hell, the city really is something else. They don’t make them like
that here at home.”
“And she’s kind and
gentle and mild-mannered and cute. Did I mention cute?”
“Do I have to get involved?” a voice said from the
village side of the gate.
Schue cheered. “Qila! Long time no see! Did you come for me?”
“That’s one too many
syllables in my name, Rand,” the girl said. “And yes, Schue, it has
been a long time. But no, I did not come to see you. I just happened to be
passing by, saw you two mumbling, and had a feeling it couldn’t mean anything
good. And
what do I find but a pair of mongrels slobbering at each other while a girl
bakes in the summer heat.”
“M-Melody! I’m so
sorry!” Schue
said, instantly whipping back around.
Melody simply smiled,
unbothered.
“Welcome back, Melody,”
Qila said. “I
hope you’re feeling well.”
“Thank you for your
concern, Madam Qila,” the maid replied. “I’m quite well, as you
can see.”
Schue froze like those
words had knocked the wind out of him. He was not used to being
handled.
“What brings you to our
village?” Qila asked.
“Checking on the fields,
actually,” Melody said. “I wanted to see how they were doing.”
“It’s very kind of you to
keep us in your thoughts. I’d be happy to show you to them.”
As they walked away, Qila
shot over her shoulder, “Tether your horse somewhere near the gate, Schue. I’ll be with Melody.”
“Er, we can wait,” Melody
said.
“No, no, go on without
me,” Schue said. “I’ll
catch up later!”
Melody left it at that
and followed her guide. Qila escorted her to the field they’d investigated the first time
through this village.
“The spots really are
gone,” Melody said.
“It was a treacherous
situation. We’re
thrilled to be rid of them, I assure you.”
Melody had done her work
as thoroughly as possible, but it was different seeing it in the light of day. The sight of so much green
with not a patch of black set her heart at ease. It truly was over.
With a sigh, she
concentrated mana in her eyes for one more unnecessary check.
“Oh, um, nothing.” She must have been seeing things. She’d nearly lost her
composure but rescued it at the last second.
What she saw was most
certainly not nothing.
It was all gone. It should have all been gone.
There, in the topsoil,
she spotted it—the dark mana. Only traces of it, too
little to materialize again as blemishes, but present nonetheless. When they inspected the
wheat fields, Melody discovered more of the same. Particles littered the earth.
The dark mana was
replenishing itself.
How? Where is it coming from? At this rate, things will
get just as bad as before.
Melody was distracted the
rest of the day, even as Qila escorted her and Schue about the village. Though she racked her
brain, no solution presented itself.
Melody and Schue returned
to the estate that evening. Leaving the horse in the stable, they headed for the back door.
“Wow, that was a lot of
fun,” Schue said. “Thanks for joining me, Melody.”
“Likewise, Schue. I enjoyed myself thoroughly.”
The boy grinned. “We’ve got to do this again sometime!”
Melody smiled in return. “Yes.
Sometime.”
They turned to the back
door, at last noticing the group standing there waiting for them.
“Lady Luciana,” Melody said. “I’ve just returned.”
“Welcome home. Did
you have fun?”
“I
did. Schue
here took me on a lovely horse ride.”
“Did he, now? I’m
happy for you. But you
must be tired. Why not retire to your room and relax a while? Micah, take her.”
“Yes, my lady,” the young
maid said.
“Micah?
My lady, I
know the way,” Melody said, puzzled.
“Don’t mind her, Miss
Melody,” Micah assured. “Off we
go.”
“O-okay then. If you’ll excuse us, my lady. Thank you again for the
lovely time, Schue.”
“N-no problem. It was fun,” the trembling valet said. “Thanks for joining me.”
His trademark grin did
little to hide the pallor of his complexion. Melody found that odd but
simply bowed before excusing herself.
She could have sworn she
heard screams shortly after she left.
Chapter 20:
Pup Marks the Spot: Garmr of the
Dark
THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 13TH LAY HEAVY upon Gourges. But not so heavy as to
consume the shimmering silver wings radiating from the girl in the sky. Those wings would have shimmered had
Melody not cast Trasparenza on herself.
“Come, arcane winds—Argento Brezza.”
A pleasant breeze rolled
through the village, gales carrying particles of dark mana up, away, and toward
Melody. The
black bead in her palm soaked up every last drop of darkness.
“That about does it, but
this isn’t good.”
Melody scanned the area
with her enchanted eyes. Not a trace of dark mana remained. Her job was done.
So much returned after
just five days, she thought. I’ve got to find the
source, and fast!
She turned toward the
next village with a sigh.
Five days ago, during her
visit with Schue, Melody had discovered that the dark mana she’d extracted from
the county’s villages had returned. At the time, she found
only traces, but a visit with her lady this afternoon had revealed a drastic
worsening of the situation. In just a few days, enough dark mana had accumulated to quite possibly
cause another outbreak of the blemishes.
So Melody went out and
repeated her sweep. She flew over the villages, cleansing them as she went. It was mostly muscle
memory at this point, so the work didn’t take long, for a mercy, and she woke
the next morning without issue.
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
Melody woke the morning
after the cleansing from the same dream she’d endured every night since that
first night. Was this
just a dream? It was
always the same. So simple. A voice. A voice she could only
hear clearly moments before waking. She couldn’t place the voice.
It was androgynous. Ageless. But it always wanted the
same thing.
Melody took the mana bead
from her pocket dimension and gazed into it. It offered no answer to
her suspicions. She ran her magic through it. It cracked. It healed.
Every morning since she
created the mana bead, she woke to that voice. She scarcely remembered
it the first time, but after close to a week of hearing its pleas, she
struggled to push it from her mind.
“‘Do not think ill of me.’ Who is ‘me’? Is it you?” she asked the bead.
The bead didn’t reply. She gave it some time and
waited patiently. When it was clear it would keep its secrets, she put the thing away and
rose from bed.
After lunch, Melody used
her break to spread out three sheets of paper on the table. Maps. Specifically, maps
tracking the spread of the contamination in Gourges, Tenon, and Durnan.
Each of the county’s
villages shared a similar layout. Thanks to the density of
the capital, vast farmlands sprawled beyond its walls. The comparatively
less-populated villages could afford the luxury of spreading out as well. Broadly speaking, about
half of the villages’ outer territories, as defined by their encircling walls,
hosted homesteads and fields for growing vegetables. The remaining half, lying
closer to the villages themselves, grew wheat.
Melody updated the maps
with her findings on the range of the area affected by the dark mana. Perhaps she could
discover a pattern. She
studied the maps…
“I know one thing for
sure: The infection affects all the villages to varying extents.”
The dark mana canvased
nearly the entirety of every settlement, even where no blemishes yet
manifested. Left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before more of the
speckles appeared.
“If I don’t do something,
I’ll have to collect another mana bead in five days. I wish I had more
information, but I may have to report to my lady and Lord Hubert.”
She’d yet to inform
anyone of her discoveries, at first because she wanted to see how events
developed. Things
certainly developed yesterday, but she still lacked anything concrete to bring
to her lady. There
were too many unknowns. The only thing she knew for sure was that the dark mana lay at the
heart of the matter. Melody still didn’t understand the nature of the mana, its source, or
how anyone could manage it without her own mana. Reporting this would do
nothing but create a problem that had no solution—which meant it was up to
Melody to find one.
However, that was easier
said than done when, apparently, she was the strongest mage in the kingdom and
even she’d struggled to get rid of
the stuff. Not
that it was much trouble now that she’d had some practice.
Currently, the next most
capable mage in the county was Rook, but he’d lost his ability to use magic
along with his memories. After
him—far below him—was Dyrule,
the guardsman, but he could not cast spells either. There were no others. Melody needed more
information. Better
information.
She would bide her time
until she found it.
“Miss Melody, do you have
a… Whoa. What are you
doing?” Micah
entered and took in the parchment strewn about the table, and Melody scowling
at it.
“Ah, Micah. I was just putting together maps of the infection affecting the crops. I thought it might help
me ascertain its source.”
“No rest for the wicked,
huh?”
“Did you need me for
something?”
“Oh, yes! Have you seen Grail anywhere? I can’t seem to find him.”
“Now that you mention it,
he wasn’t present at lunch. I haven’t seen him either.”
“Okay.
It’s just
that I don’t think he ate, so I’m a little worried. Let me know if you come
across him.”
“That Grail,” Melody mused. “Where’s he gotten off to?”
Melody refocused on the maps.
She’d
finished defining the range of the infection and moved on to the severity. Not all villages were
affected equally, so what she really needed was a distribution graph.
She conjured one up, and,
at last, a pattern emerged from the chaos.
“More infections in crops
closer to the gate…”
She discovered the same
in every village, even accounting for standard deviations and variances.
“Thinking on it now, the
wheat was certainly affected over a broad range, but the concentration of the
mana in the soil was comparatively low. I’ll have to take the
differences in how the symptoms developed into account in my calculations.”
She defined the wheat
fields as the baseline: infection level one. With that as the
foundation, she proceeded through each of the other fields, assigning each a
severity to the best of her recollection.
“Higher levels closer to
the gate. It
would then follow that the infection is spreading from there. Which would mean…”
She unfurled a full map
of the county, ruler and pen in hand.
“Tenon’s gate faces due
south, I think. Following the data and assuming the source of the infection radiates
from that direction…” She drew a straight line south of the northernmost
village. “Gourges next. Its gate faces west.” She drew west until the
lines intersected. “But
this is… No. No
conclusions just yet. Southwest is Durnan, whose gate faces northeast.” She drew. It intersected in the
same place. “It…”
Melody triple-checked her
work. Every
single gate faced directly toward the Rudleberg estate. But that could only mean
one thing.
“It can’t be! Hide—Trasparenza! Flight—Ali da Angelo!”
Casting as she ran,
Melody darted outside and flew up toward the sweltering summer sun on
shimmering wings. High. Higher. Even higher. She soared higher than she’d ever flown before. She didn’t stop ascending
until she could see all three villages at once, then she flooded her eyes with
mana.
“More!
Stronger! As much mana as they can
hold! I have to see
everything!”
Her eyes surged with more
magical energy than ever. She shut them, and when she opened them again, they seemed to burn,
silver flames flaring out of the sides. She scanned the county
from on high.
She witnessed the flow. Rivers of black energy
slithered along the three roads from all three villages, forming tributaries
that met at the Rudleberg estate. Or so it seemed. The truth was even harder to believe—that the dark mana was, in fact,
flowing from the estate toward the
people.
That was the important part. While some mana branched
off into minor tributaries, the primary flow moved toward civilization.
There were properties of
the dark substance Melody could not understand as of yet.
“Is it drawn to people?” she
said. “Is that even
possible?” The
flow seemed to follow the roads, beaten-down paths of packed dirt where no
vegetation grew, so the mana could travel undetected until it reached a place
where its ill effects could manifest. “The important thing is I
know the source now, so I can do something about it at last!”
The question of why the estate was the
source remained, but that didn’t matter. Melody knew what she had to
do, and where. She hurried back to the ground.
Stealthily dispelling her
enchantments in the shade, she made for the site of the mountainous remains of
the old estate. By some cruel irony, that was where she found the thickest, blackest
concentration of the dark mana. Her sight returned to
only slightly enhanced levels, but even that was enough to show her the truth. While she’d had to probe
for the mana at the wheat fields, she required no such test here.
Melody had gotten a lot
of practice seeking out sneaky energy lurking in the soil. Her eyes had learned the
signs. Frankly,
it was a testament to her talent, not just when it came to doing but adapting. If such a talent even
existed.
“Reach—Allungare la Mano—Mille.”
Quietly yet quickly, a
thousand invisible arms of energy shifted the rubble, clearing a path to the
center for Melody. The way opened for her as if she were parting a wooden sea with her
mind. The
sight might have inspired a whole religion among unknowing observers.
Eventually, she arrived
at her destination. Late to the party, as it were.
The pup barked. He was digging, and he’d been at it for
a while, by the look of things. Five
of him stacked on top of each other could have fit in the hole.
What’s he doing? Pup
marks the spot?
A whimsical but
nonetheless nonsensical thought.
It struck Melody then
that Grail had had a hankering for those spots on the tomato. The dark mana. He’d even slobbered on a
leaf just to satisfy his craving.
“You know where the mana
is, Grail?”
The pup kept barking and
digging but did not seem to notice Melody’s presence. Whatever he was after, it
mattered an awful lot to him. More than that, though,
he seemed positively assured that what he sought lay beneath him.
“You
do know. It’s there, isn’t it? Right down there.”
Melody lifted him with an
invisible, magical arm, which finally got the pup’s attention. He yipped, eyes widening
in an awfully human expression of shock. Smiling, Melody cradled
him in her arms.
“You were one step ahead
of me all along. You knew where the infection was coming from and were trying to dig it
up.”
Grail whined and howled and barked and yipped. Translation: Damn it all, she’s found me! It’s mine! It’s mine, I say! The colossal negativity slumbering beneath this earth is mine!
“You wanted to help us,
didn’t you? Because you
love us. Sweet boy.”
Melody was ever so
slightly off the mark. She stroked the puppy’s dirt-covered paws and felt the beans of his
toes tenderly, as one might a delicate treasure.
Stop! Ow! Stop, not the cleansing! the pup barked.
Melody’s love and
kindness was purifying the pup, her saintly blessings hard at work on him. Of course, to Grail,
actually the wretched Dark One, this attention was more curse than blessing.
“You’ve earned a break. I’ll take it from here.”
She set Grail down and
stared into the hole he’d dug. It was down there,
whatever it was. Deep down. The source.
“Allungare la Mano—Mille. Search!”
A few dozen of her magical
arms gathered in the hole, diving through the soil and penetrating far
underground. Some minutes later, they found what they were looking for.
Fighting against the heavy
soil, limbs of pure energy hauled the object up. They strained to push and
pull against the pressure, but slowly, they neared the surface. Let there be no doubt
that the item was buried so deep that this was, in fact, the most efficient
method of extracting it, otherwise Melody would have had to explain an entirely
new mountain of rock and dirt. Brute force was not
always Melody’s preferred solution, but in this case, it was suitable.
Given time, the strategy
worked. The
earth at her feet shifted, though the support of the arms kept the rubble from
collapsing. More
shifting and shaking later, the ground suddenly settled, and Grail’s hole gaped
open.
From it, carried by the
force arms, emerged a basketball-sized metallic orb the color of tarnished
silver. When
Melody tapped it, it did indeed have the consistency of metal.
It had to be. Melody could see the dark energy emanating from it with her enhanced
eyes.
That’s mine! Grail barked. Mine!
I
started the hole! Finders keepers! He spun in circles and
barked some more.
“I
know. I’m happy we
found it too.” Melody
beamed at him.
Her interpretation was
less wrong this time than the first but, well, still a ways off.
“Grail!
There you are!” came a voice.
“Micah?
Is that you, my lady? And Rook too.”
Luciana and the two
servants made their way along the path Melody had cleared in the rubble.
“We were looking for
Grail and heard barking,” Luciana said. “Of course this is how we
find him.”
“That’s a very judgmental
way of putting it,” Micah noted.
“This place is dangerous,”
said Rook, glancing around. “We should leave.”
There were certainly
better places for a reunion than a precarious pile of debris.
“Don’t run off like that,
Grail! We were worried
sick!” Micah
snatched the pup up, who yipped in displeasure. The usual scene.
“What were you two doing
here anyway?” Luciana
asked.
“Melody,” Luciana groaned. “Again?”
The lady massaged her
temples. That
her maid had snuck out without her knowing, yet again, to collect mana did not
please her. “Did I or did I not just tell you to inform me before you do these
things?! Here are
three C’s for you. Remember
them. Contact! Communicate! Consult! Got that? Contact, communicate,
consult! Now, what
did I just say?”
“C-contact, communicate,
consult.”
“Contact, communicate,
consult!”
“Good!
Now, the
next time you think twice about doing any of those things because you don’t
want to worry us, think about how worried we’d be not knowing where you are!”
“Yes, my lady. I’m
sorry, my lady.”
She sighed. “So this ball here’s the culprit, is it?”
“Yes, my lady. Given the dark mana emanating off of it, there can be no doubt.”
“Miss Melody, what did you
just say?” Micah
blinked, still holding onto Grail. “Dark mana?”
“That’s right. It’s the cause of everything.” Melody produced the black
bead and showed it to her. “This is all of the mana I collected and condensed throughout the
county.”
“Grail!”
Melody
yanked her hand back as the pup lunged for the bead. “No, Grail! Bad! Naughty boy. Not everything in front of
your nose is food.”
“You
did what to all the mana?!” Micah said.
It was too late. She was already lost in her
mind palace. Dark mana can only mean one thing. But what’s it doing all
the way out here? I’ve never seen that orb in the game. What is happening right now?!
“In any case, we can’t
stay here,” Luciana said. “Let’s continue this in my room.”
“Of course.” Melody dispelled her magic helpers and took the orb in her bare hands.
Grail made his
displeasure known very loudly. He lurched forward in
Micah’s arms and bit down on the metal sphere.
“No, Grail! How many times do I have to tell you?” Melody figured he must
have been teething, but that didn’t do much to make the fellow less exhausting.
Melody yelped, dropping
the sphere out of surprise. “Wh-what
in the…?”
The orb emitted a shrill,
electrical keen. Light flickered across the surface like the lights of a circuit board.
“What’s happening?” Luciana recoiled in fear. She had no concept of
anything even remotely analogous to what she was witnessing.
The orb keened again, but
in a warbly sort of way that resembled words.
> Emergency Boot
Protocol commenced. Condition: Requisite mana signatures detected.
> Requisite Mana
Signature: Wavelength—silver. Quantity—undefinable. Projected role: Saint.
> Requisite Mana
Signature: Wavelength—black. Quantity—minimal. Projected role: Sangreal.
> Analysis: Silver
Entity unidentified. Acknowledging new Saint. Probability: 87%.
> Analysis: Black
Entity identified. Sangreal Project, subject number nine. Designation: Vanargand.
> Entity Status:
Vanargand currently 89% purified. Parameters acceptable.
“Does anyone know what
it’s saying?” Luciana
asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t
like it,” Micah replied.
Though the orb seemed
capable of language, no one could decipher what it meant. No person, that was.
Vanargand? It knows me? But that was all that
Grail could make out. He could hear the words, but their meaning was lost on him.
> Unit Status:
Functional life expectancy greatly exceeded. Operational efficiency
below 20%. Blight
corruption detected.
> Booting Autonomy
Protocols as prescribed in Clause 7, Article 3 of the Fetter-Sphere Emergency
Provisions. Dialogue
Mode engaged.
Subject nine, Vanargand’s
current purification levels suggest that a fully realized Saint stands before
this unit. Unfortunately,
this unit is not equipped with data pertaining to subject nine, Vanargand’s
realization, but would nonetheless infer from the Sangreal’s presence at the
Saint’s side that this subject was a success.
“It sure talks a lot,
whatever it is,” Melody said. “Can anyone understand it?”
“It’s still going, Miss
Melody,” Micah said.
It is with great regret
that this unit must report that it can no longer sustain its original function.
Environmental
indicators are inoperable. Touch-based mana detection persists, though at suboptimal efficiency. This unit does not
anticipate being able to maintain Dialogue Mode for long. This unit is lost and
thus has a suggestion: Begin purification measures at once. In the event that the
current setting is unsuitable, avoid prolonged contact with this unit. This unit will remain
functional for as long as possible, but that will not be long. When ready, touch this
unit with the Saint’s mana, shut this unit down, and proceed with purification
immediately. Decide quickly.
The orb went quiet, its
light fading.
“Is it done? What
do we do with it?” Melody
asked.
“That’s a good question,”
Luciana said. “For the time being, let’s bring it to my room to investigate.”
Wait! Grail howled. Something’s not right!
But no one heard the
warnings, only a pup’s whines.
Melody knelt and touched
the orb—the Fetter-Sphere.
Gratitude, Saint. Ceasing all Fetter-Sphere protocols. Commencing emergency
ejection of Sangreal Project subject number three. Designation: Garmr.
Fight well. Blessings upon thee, o maiden of silver.
The moment Melody’s
fingers skimmed the metal, light streaked through the middle of the sphere. The top portion twisted
like a capsule coming apart, and a dark haze poured out from inside it.
Shrieking, the maid
hurled the orb away.
The haze continued to
billow out, warping and morphing until a dome encased them.
“Melody, we have to get out
of—”
The light emerged faster
than Luciana’s words, black and blinding. For several seconds, no
one could see anything, and when their vision finally returned, they found
themselves somewhere they did not recognize. It certainly wasn’t the
Rudleberg estate.
“My lady!” Melody
cried. “Everyone!”
They huddled together. This place was not
reality as they knew it. The earth was as dark as obsidian and as hard as stone. Black and white smudges
swirled through the sky, turning the atmosphere to liquid marble. This impossibly strange
world seemed to go on forever.
And they stood in the
middle of it.
Something about it rang
familiar for Luciana. “This is almost like the place where I fought Luna.”
Micah recognized this
place as well, though for a very different reason. Th-this
place… It can’t be. I mean, how can it? But it has to be.
“Gateway—Ovunque Porta!” Melody
said. “What? It’s not working.”
Despair sank its nasty talons into Micah’s heart. I knew it, she thought. This is it. Not even the heroine can
get out of this one. We can’t
run. Because this is…
The ground thundered. Melody and her companions
whirled toward the noise.
“It’s a boss battle,”
Micah muttered. “What is the Dark One even doing here?!”
Grail howled. What in the hell am I doing here?!
Garmr challenged Melody
to a battle. There was no escaping from the Dark One.
Chapter 21:
Maid Magic Masterwork: The
Silvershine Raiment
THE BEAST LET LOOSE A DEAFENING ROAR. Everyone pressed their
palms against their ears.
Melody peered up at the
monster. Though
it took the form of a wolf, this was no living animal. It had no flesh or fur or
sinew, only a dark, insubstantial substance that looked suspiciously similar to
her mana bead. Smoke billowed around the thing’s body, only hinting at its canine form
and ostensibly frail enough for a stiff breeze to carry it away. But Melody’s eyes, with
their arcanely enhanced sight, could detect the way the haze circulated. The ambient mana was
concentrated on the wolf, the once-dispersed substance lazily finding its way
back.
The circulation is weak,
though, she observed. It may evaporate over time.
More gaseous mana fell
away than managed to return. All they had to do was
evade the beast and it would quite literally wear itself thin over time.
As if reading her
thoughts, the wolf inhaled deeply.
“Darkness Shout!” Micah
yelled. “It’s
using a breath attack!”
Melody’s brain cycled
through her warning three times before understanding clicked. It’s
going to expel something at us! I’ll bet
it’s more of that dark mana!
“Come, arcane winds—Argento Brezza!”
A great gust of wind
erupted before Melody. Like a massive, spontaneous updraft, it shot skyward, carrying anything
in its path with it. This was wholly unlike the gentle breeze she’d used in the
villages—this was a mighty gale.
With an ear-rumbling
roar, the wolf ejected a stream of dark energy from its gaping maw like
artillery from a cannon. Breath met gale, and the clashing mana reacted far more explosively
than a mere change in atmospheric pressure could produce.
Melody skillfully
contained the ensuing crash by conducting her winds, but still the shock wave
sent Micah and Luciana reeling. Rook held them steady.
“You will bring no harm
to my lady! Not to anyone!” Melody shouted.
The onslaught continued,
but Melody stood equal to the task. The winds never weakened. Not a single stray blast
made it past her.
When at last the beast
let up and the torrent of mana died down, Melody readied herself. “Now it’s my tur—”
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
The edge in Melody’s
glare dulled, and so did her focus, but the attack had not entirely abated. Though her wind
redirected a majority of it, that lapse cost her, and a single blast just large
enough for one person slipped past.
It consumed Melody. Instantly.
Before she
could even think to scream.
Luciana’s breath caught
in her throat. When she remembered how to breathe, she screamed, “Melody!”
The landscape cleared. Luciana’s vision focused. And there, on the ground,
sprawled the girl who’d laid her life on the line to protect them.
“No.
It can’t be,” Micah
said. “Miss Melody…”
“Melody!” Luciana wailed, throwing
herself down at her maid’s side. She cradled her in her arms. The maid fell back, limp,
her skin ghostly white. “Melody! Open your eyes, Melody!”
“Melody!”
Luciana
continued to shout. “Please,
Melody!”
Rook knelt next to her
and placed his hand against the maid’s lips. “Lady Luciana, she isn’t
breathing.”
Luciana’s heart lurched. “No.
No! I don’t believe you! Don’t you know how strong
her defensive charms are? Nothing gets through them! Not even if you get blown
to smithereens! She told
me herself! She… She’s
not…”
Luciana shuddered. Then the tears fell. She wanted to keep
protesting, to keep denying the truth, but she could no longer find the words
to do it.
“My lady…” Micah whimpered. “Miss Melody…”
Grail clutched in her arms, the girl stared down at
her mentor’s pale, motionless body. It’s not real. The
heroine? Down after one
hit? Someone
as insanely overpowered as her? This isn’t how it is in
the game. It
shouldn’t… It should’ve… This isn’t a game. I know that. It’s
not a game, but…!
Heroine or not, all her
mentor had wanted was to live her dream. To be a maid.
The ornament at Micah’s
neck shook violently. The Uovo del Mago heeded her heart and incorporated this into its
being. Regardless
of the tragedy, of its creator’s state, the egg would continue to grow.
And indeed, regardless of
the tragedy, the beast would continue the hunt. The wolf prowled forward
audaciously, well aware that it had disposed the greatest threat to itself. It raised its front paw,
its eyes set on the grieving lady beneath it.
Micah noticed and tried
to shout, but she was too late. Lady Luciana!
“Don’t you”—Luciana whipped out her
fan, snapped it open with a flick of her wrist, and swung it backhanded all in
one fluid motion—“even start with me!”
When it smacked the
beast’s paw, it did so as the tortuously “harmless” Holy Harisen.
The wolf howled in pain
as its paw vanished.
“You’re kidding me!” Micah
said.
How could she hold it in? She’d just witnessed a
harmless paper fan parrying a giant wolf-beast. In no world should the
harisen made by Melody, a mere comedy prop, have had the power to blow off a
limb, much less halt a shadow beast. Yet Micah had witnessed
just that.
The wolf recoiled. Its paw quickly rematerialized. It kept its eyes squarely
on that weapon of mass destruction in the lady’s hand.
Luciana pulled herself to
her feet and wiped her tears. She glanced back at
Melody one last time, then returned her gaze to her foe. Cold rage filled her eyes. She flicked the harisen
with a snap.
“Are you scared? She gave this to me for my birthday, you know.” She sliced the air a few
times, as if warming up for an exercise. “Do you know what it’s for? It’s for putting fools
and nuisances in their place. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Luciana darted forward,
fluid as water, graceful as a flower, with the practiced steps hammered into
her by her beloved Melody during all those ballroom dance lessons. Wary and befuddled, the
wolf attempted to track her as she zipped toward it.
“It’s dead on the floor!” the lady roared.
The wolf roared. Its hind leg vanished. The leg might come back
quickly, but the pain apparently did not fade so swiftly. The wolf whipped around to
hurl a torrent of energy at the girl, but Luciana weaved around it. She quite literally ran
circles around the beast. Danced,
rather.
“This fan’s not the only
thing she gave me,” Luciana said. “She gave me skills,
knowledge, warm food, a home! I never got the chance to
give her anything in return because you…you…!”
Rage. Loathing. Regret.
The
emotions were directed as much at herself as at the beast, pushing her body to
its limits and beyond. With every swing of the harisen, every flash of anger, another piece of
the wolf disappeared.
Micah took in this sudden
change in awe. She’d never seen her lady like this before. “She’s incredible…”
She startled. Rook rose, drawing his sword.
“I…dislike that beast. It enrages me.” The leather of his sword’s grip groaned as he clenched his fist around
it. Without
it, his nails would have surely bitten into his palm.
“Do you remember something? Are your memories coming
back?” Micah asked.
Rook shook his head. He did not need memories
to feel these things. “I will not abide injustice. I will not abide abuse. I will not live beneath
another’s heel. No one should.
The
greatest freedom is life itself, and it is not for others to take!” Some things—some
ideals—transcended experience. “Stay with Melody.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Rook took off, mana
coursing through his body. As it infused his muscles, his physical abilities swelled, and his gait
widened, until eventually he leapt into the air.
The wolf growled and
turned toward him, exactly as planned.
“Carry me, cradle of wind—Respi-Dea!” Rook
said.
A gale blew at Rook in
midair, changing his trajectory and sending him hurtling toward the monster. It failed to react in
time and Rook’s blade sank into its eye.
Once he landed, he
pointed his blade at his opponent. “I remember now. This
feeling. The arcane.”
Mana bubbled out of the
wolf’s eye socket, and before long an eye once again occupied it.
“Just another target,”
Rook said. “All
the better for me to cut you down.”
He and Luciana exchanged a
look and a curt nod. Somehow, the untrained lady and the warrior who forgot knew their
assignments. Together, they faced down Garmr, the Dark One.
Micah could only watch. “They’re incredible, but
I can’t do a thing.”
She sank to the floor
with Grail. This was her assignment, to wait at Melody’s side. Was that all she was good
for in a crisis?
All this lore knowledge,
and what good is it even? What was the point of being reincarnated with any of it? Miss Melody is supposed
to be the heroine. How does…any of this happen?
She refused to speak the
words into reality, refused to wonder aloud what any of this meant. Even such a petty fear
induced the egg to shake, but Micah paid it no mind.
All alone now, the tears
flowed freely. Micah loosened her grip on Grail and clutched at her skirt. It took every ounce of
willpower to spare her pride and keep from collapsing into sobs.
Meanwhile, Grail huffed
and puffed, sniffing around the fallen Melody. His nose led him to her
closed hand, which fell open at a nudge. A black bead rolled free. She’d never put it away
after revealing it to Micah.
Grail stared at it. Then at Garmr. “Release me,” you cry. Enough with your insipid
sniveling. The pup scooped up the
bead and swallowed it whole. Return from whence you
came, if that is your wish. But
mine? Mine
is to assume my rightful place. To bide my time, descend
upon this world as a shadow, slay the Saint by my own hand, and sink the world
into everlasting darkness! That you should undo the Saint before her time is…a hindrance.
The black at the tip of
Grail’s tail spread along its length, staining his fur black. He sauntered on top of
Melody, curled into a ball on her chest, and shut his eyes.
Micah’s tears only fell
faster. The poor pup. He could not know.
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
That voice again. Pleading. Desperate. And yet, all the while,
resigned.
Replying was a waste of
effort. The voice
never answered. Would this time be any different?
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
I
don’t. Show yourself. Let me see you, so we can
talk.
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
It occurred to Melody then
that she wasn’t actually speaking. The voice did not answer
because it could not hear. Perhaps the voice could not see her just as she could not see it. Melody could not even see
herself, much less her company.
“Please.
I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
“The cup of darkness
runneth over with the souls of the forsaken.”
Suddenly, a weight seemed
to leave her, like someone had washed a layer of thick oil off of her. All at once, a burden
dropped from her shoulders.
“What just…? My voice. I can talk. I can see.”
The darkness had not
gone, and yet she could see herself. How was such a thing
possible? How
did she have sight where there was no light?
Melody stepped backward,
staring at her hands, and found herself enveloped by something soft.
There, behind her, stood
a great, silver wolf. Sat, rather, but its stature had fooled her. Melody had stumbled right
into its chest. She
studied the creature. It was missing a leg and one ear, or so it seemed at first glance. Both were simply tipped
in black and vanished into the surrounding darkness. Its tail was entirely
invisible.
“You look a lot like my
Grail. Except
for the tail, that is.”
“Wait, no. No, not
here! No, no, no!”
The wolf hurled, but from
its mouth came not a mess of chunks but something black, something difficult to
discern among the gloomy environment. It seemed about the size
of a pup, whatever it was.
“Please,” it hiccuped. “I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
“Please,” it whimpered. “I beg of you. Do not think ill of me.”
“Are you…?” Melody cautiously approached the thing the wolf had regurgitated. It was a pup, its fur dark as night, and it was crying. “What’s wrong?”
The pup faced her, tears
streaming down its face, hiccuping and sniveling. “Please. I beg of you. Do not think ill of me. I only want to go. I want to go back.”
“Back?
Home? You want to go home? Where is it? I’ll take you there.”
“Release me!” it wailed. “I want to go back!”
Melody picked it up and
cradled it against her chest. The pup clung to her,
ceaseless in its pleas. “You want to go home, but you don’t know how to, do you? Poor thing. I wish I could help you.”
The pup suddenly quieted
and stared at her with its beady eyes. “You’ll help me? You’ll send me back?”
Melody stroked its head
with a smile. “I will. Let’s go where you ought to
be, shall we? Together.”
“Finally,” it breathed. “I can go back.”
That appeased the
creature, and it quickly drifted to sleep. As she gently patted its
back, the pup began to glow. White light consumed it,
transforming its obsidian fur. Somehow, Melody recognized
this phenomenon.
“Please.
Never forget yourself.
The love in your
heart. Carry it
with you always.”
Melody whipped around
toward the voice but found nothing. Not even the silver wolf. She’d recognized the voice
that time. But from where? Whose was it?
The pup turned to mere
glimmers in the air and drifted upward. Purposefully. As if showing her the way.
“Let’s
go,” it said. “Back.”
Such beautiful light. How
pure. How pristine. A luster that would
undoubtedly make even the most tarnished metals shine.
In the world of darkness,
the battle with the wolf raged toward its conclusion. Luciana gracefully wove
in and out of the creature’s range with a dancer’s poise. Rook, with his revived
memories of spell casting, harassed the beast with a variety of attacks. Together, they’d dealt a
great deal of damage, all without suffering a single scratch, but that by no
means meant they were winning.
“For goodness’ sake, the
scoundrel won’t go down!” Luciana
said.
“It’s healing faster than
we can hurt it,” Rook said. “I’d hoped we could wear
it down nonetheless, but it’s certainly stubborn.”
The wolf regenerated any
time they managed to wound it. They were going in
circles, and though they still had some fight left in them, soon enough they
would reach their physical and magical limits.
“We owe it to her to
win,” Luciana said. “We
owe it to Melody! After what this thing did to her…”
She dared not speak the
words aloud. As soon as they became real, her spirit would crumble.
“We need a strategy,
though,” Rook said. “At this rate, it’ll wear us down. I’ll retreat and—”
Interrupting Rook and
taking advantage of its opponents’ lapse in focus, the wolf bounded backward,
hovered in midair, and inhaled. Dark lightning crackled
in its jaws.
It
can’t be, Rook thought. Again?!
It was going to fire that
energy-filled roar, the very same one that even Melody couldn’t defend against
entirely. Rook
and Luciana certainly had no hope of repelling it themselves. The only thing they could
do was try to evade it.
Luciana and Rook spread
out, darting left and right. The beast took aim—but
not at either of them.
“What is it…?” Luciana
gasped. “No!”
Maybe I can deflect it
with my harisen! Luciana thought. But I won’t make it in time!
Respi-Dea?! Rook’s thoughts whirled
frantically. No, she’s too far!
Their positioning couldn’t
have been worse. Micah lay out of reach for both of them—and the wolf knew it. It had orchestrated this
attack accordingly, taking the path of least resistance and targeting the
weakest member of the pack.
“Micah!” Luciana and Rook shouted.
It was too late. She didn’t have time to react. The wolf’s maw was opening.
Micah threw herself over
Grail and Melody. One last futile act of resistance. Well,
this was a waste of a life. Still. At least I can…
The beast began to roar. “Darkness Shout,” she had
called it, Vanargand’s ultimate technique. It hurtled toward Micah
in a black blur.
“Wind, melodious and pure—Argento-Bia Brezza.”
A tidal wave of darkness
consumed Micah and everything around her. Luciana dropped to her
knees, that suffocating feeling returning. Rook gritted his teeth as
his nails dug into the palm of his free hand.
When the incredible blast
cleared, Micah was…
“What?”
Luciana and Rook said.
“Huh?”
Micah was
completely fine. Even Grail whined in surprise. “I’m not dead?”
Micah picked herself up. No scratches. No bruises.
Nothing broken.
Grail made an odd gagging
noise.
“Oh.
You’re up. Wait, what in the world
did you eat…? It’s white. Why’s it white?”
A white bead fell from
the pup’s mouth. Micah knew about the black bead but not any white ones. This one looked identical
aside from its color. Was
it not the same?
Grail descended from
Melody, promptly giving her the cold shoulder.
“What’s your problem? What did Miss Melody…
Miss Melody?” Micah
cocked her head. Something was different about Melody. But what? “Is there some color in her cheeks again?”
She reached out to feel
her, but the wolf bellowed. Micah whipped around just
in time to see it charging at her.
“So much for miracles!” she shrieked.
“Micah!”
Luciana and Rook
shouted. They’d
been too dumbstruck to react, and now it was too late again.
This was it. Lightning would not strike twice to spare Micah.
“You’re safe, Micah. Argento-Bia Brezza—restrain it.”
Streaks of silver zipped
past the young maid before she could process who had just spoken. The air was like
shimmering ribbons. It flitted by and wound itself around the pitch-black wolf, pinning it
in place as it howled in rage.
“It’s okay. You’re
okay. They won’t hurt
you.”
Micah couldn’t believe her
eyes. She
stuttered as she attempted to turn her emotions into words. “M-Miss Melody!”
She flung herself at her
mentor as Melody slowly rose from the ground.
“Sorry for the, er,
scare,” Melody apologized.
“Miss Melody!” Micah said with emotion.
“Melody! Micah!” the others cried.
With the threat under
control, Rook and Luciana came running.
“So? What’s the plan for that?”
Luciana glared at the
captive. Melody’s
magic held the wolf firmly. It couldn’t so much as
twitch, let alone open its jaws.
“Stop furrowing your
brow, my lady. It’s unbecoming,” Melody said.
“But Melody! Melody, what it did to you was…!” Luciana said.
“No cause for concern. As you can see, I’m hale
and hearty. I promise
you, my lady.”
Luciana threw herself at
her maid. Melody
returned her embrace, smiling tenderly.
“It’s a question that
needs answering,” Rook said.
Melody faced him. “Don’t
worry. I’ve
thought about it already.”
Rook could not even begin
to guess where this confidence came from.
Gesturing for everyone to
stand back, Melody approached the wolf.
“I thought you were our
enemy at first,” she said. “For what you put my lady and her family through. For repeating it after
I’d fixed what you’d done. I thought you were trouble.”
The wolf stared. The maid stared back.
“But someone told me,
begged me, not to think ill of them. It was you, wasn’t it? It was a part of you.”
Melody showed the wolf the
pure white bead resting in her palm. It fixed its gaze on it.
“They told me they wanted
to go back. I understand
now. Who
wants to go home knowing people hate you? It was a happy send-off
you wanted.”
A single tear fell from
the wolf’s eye. Melody chose to take that for affirmation.
She clutched the bead to
her chest. Beams
of light trickled through the gaps in her fingers. “I understand now. You. What you need.”
Micah’s heart pounded out of her chest as she
observed this interaction. Is this really happening? This
mood. This quiet
reverence. Miss
Melody, the heroine, the Saint—she’s being reborn
before my eyes. Her eyes have opened to her true power! Oh my god, this is
totally different from in the game. I’ve never been so glad to
have been reincarnated!
Now that the danger had
passed, Micah’s otome gamer tendencies ran rampant.
“There’s a…power inside
me,” Melody continued. “A power I’ve never felt before.”
I mean, she pops out new
spells like it’s nobody’s business all the time, but this feels different!
“This magic—it’s my
magnum opus. My masterwork. I can feel it. It can save you.”
Magnum
opus? Does
she mean the Silver Raiment? But that’d be weird.
The ultimate technique in The
Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, the Silver Raiment, was
an all-powerful transformation that sent the player’s stats through the roof. It was not only literally
invincible but could reflect damage as well. It was, in short,
extremely unfair, but undoubtedly the sort of ace meant for combat, so maybe
this version would manifest differently. It had never crossed
Micah’s mind that Melody already wore a cheap, easily replicated version of the
Raiment.
Melody shut her eyes. The light in her hand
faded, and a serene calm descended. In a celestial voice,
somber and divine, she said, “I made an oath to my mother. I swore to her I would
become the most perfect maid in the world. That was when I awakened
to these powers. My magic. They came with a voice. ‘Blessings upon thee, o
maiden of silver,’ it said. Who they are or what they meant, I do not know. But one thing I do know is
I’ve been blessed. Blessed
by silver.”
Micah’s heart skipped a beat.
If ever
there was any doubt that this was the heroine, it
vanished. Melody’s
words came straight from the protagonist’s awakening in the game. Little
weird that the oath was about being a maid and that it happened so early, but
whatever.
“I ask that you trust me. Trust that I can save
you,” Melody went on. “That dark power is what’s held you here. If we dispel it, it will
release you. And I’ll
do just that. Because I…”
Here it comes! Tell
us, o Saint! Show us who you really are, Cecilia Leginbar—
“I have the sanitizing
power of elemental silver cations on my side!”
“You what?” the
onlookers resounded. The wolf settled for cocking its head.
The light radiated from
Melody’s fist once more. Beams shot through her fingers, moving on their own, weaving around
Melody like thread. Still clutching the white bead, she thrust her fist up. “By blessings silver, let
there be purity! Maid Magic Masterwork—Silvershine Raiment!”
And then the unbelievable
happened.
“Eyes shut, Rook!” Micah
squealed. “Eyes shut!”
Magical girl
transformation sequences were not for the eyes of men.
The instant Melody
finished her incantation, her clothing exploded into threads. They were now reforming,
rearranging themselves into new garments more befitting their wearer. Melody twirled and danced
among the loose strings of fabric. How very impractical yet
in-genre that the transformation began at her hands and feet as opposed to
those areas in most dire need of concealment.
Luciana’s focus was
razor-sharp. “You can never see any of the good bits when she does this.”
“That was extremely weird,
Lady Luciana!” Micah said. “You sound like some
pervert!”
“I would like to know
what’s happening,” Rook said.
“Keep that back turned!” Luciana and Micah shouted.
Rook only grunted
apathetically.
At last, the
transformation concluded, and Melody landed gracefully. A dress of brilliant
silver and a pure white apron draped over her figure. Her boots, too, were
white, and a curtain of glistening silver hair spilled from beneath a white
cap. In her
hand, she held a square, silver bag filled with a number of cleaning tools
decorated with platinum of such high quality it would make one hesitate to use
them.
Melody stood before the
wolf and slowly opened her eyes, revealing pools of lapis lazuli. This was Melody as her
truest self. No camouflage spells, just a divine and heavenly bearing. Maidly.
Taking a knee, she smiled
at the wolf. “This,” she said, “is my magnum opus. The Silvershine Raiment,
housemaid form. On my honor as the bearer of the silver blessing, I will cleanse you of
this taint.”
From her bag, Melody
produced a bar of soap, an expensive-looking one bearing an elaborate design. She held it aloft, and it
emitted an argent glow.
“Hear me, silver suds! Let’s show this pooch
some tender love and care and make it shine!”
She hurled the bar over
the wolf. It
hung in midair, glowing as suds spilled from it to envelop the beast. Meanwhile, Argento-Bia
Brezza shifted and churned to spread the suds around.
“It’s
like a washing machine,” Micah muttered in disbelief.
“Is she drowning that thing?” Micah asked.
“I-I don’t think so. Surely
not.” Luciana looked
away. She
did not care to verify her theory.
“If she’s doing laundry,”
Rook pointed out, “wouldn’t that make her a laundry m—”
“Hush!”
the girls
snapped, slapping their hands over his mouth. Neither wanted to witness
the aftermath of a new, all-powerful Melody overhearing someone nitpicking her
passion.
“Now for a brushing!” the maid maniac said. A number of brushes
emerged from her bag and started scrubbing. “And don’t forget the ears!”
“L-look, see? A housemaid would do that,” Luciana argued. “It’s not laundry at all.”
“Exactly!” Micah
concurred. “The
brush puts it squarely in housemaid territory.”
“Well, technically,
sometimes you would use a brush on clothes with particularly set-in—”
“Shut
it!” the girls
snapped again.
The cleaning proceeded. When the suds were gone
and the job was done, the brushes returned to Melody’s bag. A great, albeit
thoroughly exhausted, white wolf lay before them.
“Wow,” the audience said,
encapsulating a wide range of emotion in that single word.
Melody, personally, was
quite happy. “All clean! Isn’t that better?”
“I… I thank you. At last, thanks to you, I can…return. Urp…”
“I’m happy to be of service. All in a day’s work for a
maid.”
“A ‘maid,’ you say? This is what you are? A formidable people these
‘maids’ must be. Truly. Hurp…”
“It keeps urp’ing,” Rook said. “Is it okay?”
“A-as long as Melody’s
happy,” said Luciana.
Truly,
a very wide range of emotion.
“Will you have any
trouble going ‘back’?” Melody
asked.
“No. No, I don’t believe so. Before I depart, however,
I would have a word with them.” The others approached at
the wolf’s behest. “My apologies for the
trouble I’ve caused you.”
“Well, er, I-I guess it’s
water under the bridge,” Micah replied.
“Not for me!” Luciana
said. “But,
well, if Melody’s fine with it, I suppose I can let it go.”
“Thank you. It gladdens me that my final moments can be shared with humans as kind
as you.” The wolf lay there unmoving, its eyes
wandering to Grail off in the distance. Its expression softened, as best a
beast’s could, and peace filled its gaze. “And how glad I am to see
the Sangreal has at least been realized. This world can yet be saved. I can rest easy, knowing
its fate lies in your hands. The hands of the Sangreal
and the Saint.”
Suddenly, Micah’s chest
gleamed. “Huh?! It’s the Uovo del Mago.”
The egg-shaped ornament
glowed, lifting itself out of her shirt all on its own. Everyone gaped at the
ornament—except the wolf, who merely chuckled. “It
seems my return has been delayed.”
“What?
What do you—”
Melody began.
But just then, Micah’s
egg split apart at the middle and opened up like a pair of jaws. Air flowed into it, as if
it housed a vacuum or a black hole.
“What the heck is going on?!” the girl squawked.
The flow didn’t seem to
affect anything—until the wolf itself fell apart. Its body disintegrated
into silver particles and gravitated toward the egg until nothing remained.
Silence ruled the dark
world for several seconds. Until
it didn’t.
“What the heck is going ooon?!”
Epilogue
ON AUGUST 15TH, THE DAY AFTER THE birth of Melody’s
Silvershine Raiment, Prince Christopher and his old friend the marquess’s
daughter, Anna-Marie, convened in his room in the palace to discuss the
narrative to come.
Anna-Marie contributed to
the discussion with a sigh.
“What?
Something
eating at you so bad you gotta make it my problem too, Anna?”
“It’s just, we’ve already
lost two whole weeks of summer vacation.”
“Ah, yeah, I guess I feel
you there.”
“It’s nothing but curtsies
and ‘good day’ and ‘how do you do’ with dignitaries during the day, and
scrambling to study for next semester in the evening, and meetings with you any
other time. This is not how a fair maiden is
meant to spend her precious youth!”
“Hey, I don’t have it any
better.”
“If only Luciana and
Melody had stayed in the capital. We could have had tea
parties, or I could have gone on ice cream dates with Melody as Anna the
Commoner.”
“Don’t you have literally
any other friends?”
“Not that I can let my
guard down around, no!” Anna-Marie covered her face with her hands and wept.
“Fair point. Lord Rudleberg’s a pretty straitlaced man. Only ever concerns himself
with doing his job at the Chancery, as opposed to climbing the ladder. Networking definitely
isn’t his strong suit.”
“Exactly. The lord chancellor called his own daughter the Hero Princess, and he
hasn’t even tried to milk that for what it’s worth. To say nothing of Lord
Maxwell’s invitation to the ball, which he still hasn’t breathed a word
about to anyone.”
“And after his display
following the attack on the last ball, I hesitate to believe it’s out of a lack
of care for his daughter. He might really just be that humble. The fact that he could
use her to elevate his own status probably hasn’t even crossed his mind. This is the same guy who
ruins his house by turning to crime in the game?”
“He was a victim of
circumstance. It’s not in his nature, which is why he was caught almost immediately. Trust me, if the count
wasn’t trustworthy, I’d have crushed him beneath my heel and rescued Luciana
from him myself! Hmm,
Luciana Victillium. I like the sound of that. I think our peers would too. In time. They’d celebrate my new
sister as if she were born into the family.” Anna-Marie giggled to
herself.
“You seriously need to
take a day off.”
She glared at him. “You know I can’t after this report.”
“Fair enough. I’m still scratching my head over it, personally.”
“As
am I. It
wasn’t the second imperial prince but the princess?”
In the second semester of The
Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, the fifth and final
love interest transfers at last into Royal Academy: Schroden van Rordpier, the
second prince of the hawkish Rordpier Empire. A cold and calculating man
with a mission to undermine the kingdom in preparation for an invasion.
“But here we are, getting
the second princess,” Anna-Marie grumbled. “God, I bet she’s pretty. Er, wait, no man means no
love interest! How’s
that going to work?! Someone get the showrunner on the line, dang it!”
“Anna-Marie, you have seriously got to take a nap or something. And what makes you so
sure she’s a hottie anyway?”
“Uh, have you seen the
prince? If his younger
sister isn’t hot, then I don’t know,
something’s wrong.”
“They’re only half
siblings, aren’t they?”
According to the
information they had, the second princess was the daughter of the emperor’s
third concubine, a woman of rather low standing. They had received word of
her attendance only recently, so the prince must have suffered extenuating
circumstances. Doubtless the princess was coming out of necessity.
“I’m willing to bet
she’ll be given the same orders the prince would have been,” Anna-Marie said.
“For the record, this
means a change of plans. Seeing as she’s a girl, I’ll be the one keeping an eye on her.”
Anna-Marie nodded. Then sighed again.
“Just can’t help
yourself, can you?” Christopher
said.
“If the prince is getting
replaced, that means all his CG events’ll be canceled. I really wanted to see
those.”
“Your obsession borders
on a liability. This guy’s supposed to be dangerous.”
“I realize that, but his
horse-riding scene with the heroine was just so pretty. Oh, just imagine it: A
pretty girl with her arms around a handsome young man atop a noble steed.”
“Oh.
Oh! It’s one of those! With all the squishing! And you’re all, ‘Hey,
what’s so soft against my back? Is she doing it on purpose?’ Do I get one of those? Tell me I get one of those!”
“Boys always have to make
it sound gross. Moving on. The context is he wants
information on the prince, and he knows the heroine is close with him, so he
invites her out for a ride. So really it’s more, ‘Heh, I’ll squeeze this girl dry. Wait, she’s actually
really cute!’ It goes
something like…”
“How do you like your
first ride?”
“It’s curious how much
the world can change from a different vantage point. I could gaze from here
forever.” The
heroine smiled at the prince, blushing prettily.
The prince’s heart
skipped a beat. “W-well then! I suppose you can gaze a
while longer.”
“Huh?”
The heroine
yelped and tightened her grip around the prince’s waist as the horse kicked
into a gallop.
“It should have been me,”
Christopher lamented. “How can I be the poster boy for the game and still get so little
action?”
A knock sounded a moment
before Maxwell joined them. They offered him a seat.
“I hear you’ve something
new to report,” Maxwell said.
“Not the prince, then,
but the princess.” Maxwell
ruminated. “Well,
you got the ‘second’ element right.”
“But we got the entire
individual wrong,” Anna-Marie said.
“I
jest. Without
a doubt, all that matters is that someone from the empire will attend the
academy. Their
identity is secondary because now we can be all but certain our northern
neighbors have their sights set on us. But why the princess? Your dreams made more sense. Sending the prince would
have been far more beneficial to the Rordpiers.”
“That, we can’t say, but
there are hints,” Christopher said. “Word is their second
prince is gone.”
“That’s the part we don’t
know. There
are possibilities, of course. He may have gone abroad
elsewhere. Maybe he’s
on business. Fallen ill. Maybe he ran away from home?”
“Not likely,” Maxwell and
Anna-Marie said, shaking their heads.
“Didn’t think so. It wouldn’t be a good look on the imperial family, that’s for sure.”
“At any rate, next
semester is turning out to be a hectic one,” said Maxwell. “You first-years are a
rowdy bunch.”
“By the way,” Anna-Marie
said, “have you heard anything from Luciana regarding your offer? Has she given you a reply?”
Christopher huffed. “You of all people, left out in the cold for two whole weeks?”
Maxwell’s calm expression
flickered for just a moment.
“Maybe she’s forgotten
about you, my friend,” Christopher said.
“Don’t be silly, Your
Highness,” Anna-Marie said. “Why, no one would snub
an invitation to accompany a Reclentos to the Summer Ball.”
“She’ll give her reply
when she’s returned. We need only be patient.”
Maxwell sipped his tea. Judging by his sour
expression, it must have been a bitter brew indeed.
Meanwhile, back at the
Rudleberg county estate, in Luciana’s chambers…
“I hope you’re not coming
down with a cold, my lady.”
“No,
no. Someone
must have been talking about me, I’m sure,” Luciana explained.
“I imagine the Fae
Princess crosses many lips,” Melody said.
“You mean the Hero
Princess, Miss Melody,” Micah corrected.
“Can we not do this now?!” Luciana asked, red in the
face. Her maids giggled. “Anyway, how exactly do
we explain to Uncle what happened yesterday?”
“That may be difficult,”
Melody said.
“And we don’t exactly
have proof,” added Micah.
A mysterious orb beneath
the remains of the estate had given rise to a mysterious wolf and sparked a
life-or-death battle of dramatic proportions. That they had come out
alive was nothing short of a miracle. Naturally, Luciana
believed they ought to report the whole thing to Hubert, the county’s acting
bailiff, but when all was said and done, nothing remained of their epic
struggle, not a scrap of physical evidence to corroborate their story. The dark world had
vanished, along with the orb that birthed it. It had turned to ash and
scattered on the wind like dust.
On top of that, Melody
said all traces of the mana plaguing the land had vanished. So what was left to report?
“I suppose it’s hard to
explain what we can’t even grasp ourselves,” Luciana said. “That white wolf might
have enlightened us, but, well…” She side-eyed Micah—or the Uovo del Mago
around her neck, to be precise. “Micah.”
“Hey, I’m innocent! Miss Melody’s the one who
made this in the first place!”
“That’s the curious
thing,” Melody said. “I did not design it with that function. I can only theorize that
its time learning and synchronizing with you has changed it somehow.”
“Don’t eat us, Micah,”
Luciana teased. “We aren’t
tasty.”
“I’m not eating anyone! Don’t be mean!” Micah pouted, which only made the others laugh.
“Anyway, something the
wolf said is still stuck in my head. It mentioned something
about a Sangreal and…a Saint.”
Their eyes went to Melody. The maid tilted her head,
confused.
“I’m almost positive it
was talking about you,” Luciana said.
“I’m inclined to agree,”
Micah added. “But
what’s a ‘Sangreal’?”
“You think I’m a saint? Oh, you two and your jokes.” Melody tittered
tastefully behind a dainty hand. She did not even attempt
to humor such an outlandish suggestion. “I can assure you, I’m no
saint. I’m
Melody, all-works maid for House Rudleberg!”
“She sounds very
confident about that, Lady Luciana,” Micah said.
“That she does, Micah,”
Luciana agreed.
“She was a housemaid yesterday,” they
said together.
“Stop putting my own foot
in my mouth!” the maid cried.
“My goodness, Melody,
wherever did you learn to speak that way?” Luciana led the room in
yet more laughter. Three was a crowd and certainly made for a boisterous cacophony. “By the way, I feel like
I’m forgetting something important. Does anyone know what it
might be?”
Meanwhile again,
at the Rudleberg estate stable…
It’s quiet with this one. Not like the ceaseless
clucking of those women. I like
it.
Lazily indeed did the pup
idle. But
minds were given to wandering when they had nothing else to do.
Why did I do what I did? he wondered. Why did I save the Saint?
A mystery of the highest
order. Had
the pup left her, she surely would have perished. She never would have made
it out of that dark realm. Then the Dark One could have bided its time. Restored its powers. Risen.
I suppose I…thought it my place to lay her low. Is that how I would have
once thought, though?
Surely not. Before, he would have scoffed at the girl’s pitiful state and left her
to die.
Something was changing
inside of him. Something he could neither place nor reject.
Why is it that these
changes are not altogether unwelcome? I’ve noticed that I don’t
tremble before her as I once did. Ever since spitting up
that pale bead, Grail no longer feared the girl. The Saint, that was. Melody. She could embrace him and
he would not quiver one bit. I don’t understand. What
changed? Why? What’s more, why did that…thing know my
name? Why did
it call me a “Sangreal”? Do the answers lie in these long-lost memories of mine?
Grail had lived a long,
long life as the Dark One, though he’d forgotten the vast majority of that
time. Now,
he could recall little beyond his struggles against the previous Saint. What, then, of the
hundreds—nay, thousands of years that preceded
this time period?
If perhaps there are more
of that wolf’s kind, methinks they would make excellent fuel for my great
return. The pup cackled quietly to
himself, which was not at all something a pup would normally do.
But then he fell asleep,
which was very much something a pup would do.
“Here.
Cleaning time,”
Rook said. “Fare Acqua.”
Water sprang from the
valet’s hand, sprinkling a light shower over the horse. Rook used his free hand
to scrub the animal down with a brush.
Knowledge had returned to
Rook. Not
memories, but understanding and awareness of the arcane. From those context clues,
however, he could piece together some things about his past. Primarily that it had not
been a peaceful life. That made him wonder: Who had he once been? How different was that
person from who he was now? Perhaps he’d been a brutish man, blunt and hotheaded, quick to anger. Or perhaps he hadn’t been
all too different from his current self, quiet and stoic.
As he drew the brush
along the beast’s body, he found himself repeating the questions plaguing him
of late. Did he
deserve this life? This
contentedness? Yesterday’s chaos notwithstanding, Rook’s days as a servant were pretty
ordinary. Would
his past self approve of such a fate? Would he rage at the
prospect? Was
he not raging now, screaming at the fool to remember who he was?
Faces flashed through his
mind. Micah’s. Melody’s. Luciana’s. He was with good people now. Surely he could indulge
in their company for a while longer. Doubtless there would
come a time when, much like his spell casting, the past would rear its ugly
head, but until then, Rook decided he was allowed to bathe this horse and many
more without demons plaguing his conscience.
His lips curved up on
their own.
“Whoa, hey, Rook. I didn’t know you could cast spells.”
Rook turned to find Schue
behind him, decked out in his usual servant’s garb. A wooden pail stuffed
with weeds and dirt dangled from one of his gloved hands.
“Yep.
Those
suckers spring up everywhere in the summertime, I swear! But forget that, we’re
talking about magic! You’re a
mage?”
“I’m so jealous. Wish I could use magic.”
Rook gathered mana in his
eyes and examined Schue, much in the same fashion as Anna-Marie used her
Analysis Vision spell. “You do have some mana, from what I can tell.”
“You can tell?! With
just one look?! Wow! Is there, like, a trick
to casting you wouldn’t mind sharing with me?”
Rook stumbled and very
nearly fell. Couldn’t fault the boy for honesty.
With a flippant goodbye,
Schue got on with the rest of his duties.
Maybe
there’s something to be said for blitheness. Rook watched the boy go,
his gait bouncy, and did his best to understand.
His tasks at the flower
beds complete, Schue made his way to his room for a quick rest. He couldn’t rightly
stroll about the estate as a sweaty mess.
Throwing off his vest, he
loosened his tie with one hand and dexterously undid the buttons on his shirt
with the other, then threw the dirty clothes onto his bed. He snatched a towel to
wipe himself down as he approached a mirror hanging on the wall.
“That’s better. Already feelin’ cooler,” he sighed. “Pretty snazzy, these
mirrors. Awfully
fancy that every room gets one!”
A handsome visage emerged
beneath his bright, golden hair, intimidating in its perfection, unmarred by
silly expressions, and complemented by a pair of razor-sharp, golden eyes. That gaze could chill to
the bone, even beneath the blazing summer sun. He cut an immaculate
figure, tastefully muscular without much bulk, as if some great master had
chiseled him out of amber.
He scrutinized himself in the mirror. My face and body are
getting a little imbalanced. I’ll have to do another
thorough tan soon.
The grin returned. “This is me,” he told himself. “None of that stoic nonsense.
It isn’t my image. The world’s way too fun a
place to live your whole life frowning! Nah, that’s for idiots!”
Once done wiping himself
off, Schue changed into a fresh uniform and left his room. The door shut behind him
as his footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Oh, Melody! You’re here to change too? It’s pretty hot out there,
huh? I can
help wipe your back if you—hello, Lady Luciana! I was just going, very
busy, things to do. Please no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was a crime of passion,
I swear, not the harisen!”
His voice gradually
weakened, growing farther and farther away, until it died completely.
And just as silence
fell—screams began.
Count Leginbarth’s Plight
ON THE TENTH OF AUGUST, IN THE ROYAL capital of Paltescia, two
men met in the Leginbarth estate. On one end of the desk
sat the grizzled, silver-haired celebrity himself, Count Cloud Leginbarth. In testament to his
genetics, he was indeed the biological father of Melody Wave, otherwise known
as Celesty McMarden.
On the other end of the
desk stood Viscount Lyzack Froude, Lectias Froude’s older brother. The resemblance was strong. He had Lect’s fiery
hair—though he grew it out a tad longer—and gold eyes, but he lacked the
hardness in his expression that Lect had earned through knighthood.
“It’s been some time,
Your Lordship,” Lyzack said.
“Too long. Please,
have a seat.”
Pausing his work, Cloud
rose to sit with his guest on the sofa in his office. A butler arrived with
tea, and they sipped as they talked.
“How long has it been?” the count wondered aloud. “Half a year now?”
“I believe so. I was unfortunately absent from the Spring Ball, so certainly longer
than that.”
Cloud grunted. “I apologize for my absence. Administering the county
keeps you busy, I’m sure.”
“Not nearly as busy as it
keeps the bailiff, my lord. I’m
but a clerk.”
“True,” Cloud chuckled. “True.”
They kept the conversation
light, sticking to pleasantries for the moment.
House Froude were Nobles
of the Robe and had long served House Leginbarth. Though technically not the
head of the count’s offices, their title afforded their family a measure of
authority, and they had earned their lord’s trust via generations of loyal
clerks, an honor that did not come easily from the vice-chancellor. Lect was, in fact, an
outlier in his house for choosing to swear himself to knighthood rather than
clerical work.
Lyzack enjoyed a
particularly close relationship with Cloud, being just two years younger at
thirty-one. They’d been schoolmates at Royal Academy, as it happened.
“I’ve brought with me a
number of documents, my lord,” the viscount said. “Most are standard, though
some may require your attention. At your earliest
convenience, of course.”
Lyzack’s attendant passed
the papers to Cloud’s butler, who then handed them to the count.
Cloud flipped through them. “No causes for concern,
it seems.”
“Nothing urgent, my lord. I’m visiting primarily
for personal reasons, I’ll admit. I intend to make detailed
reports at a later date.”
Cloud’s speedy judgment
and swift grasp on everything presented to him was a testament to the man’s
administrative talents. Lyzack was not the least bit taken aback by how swiftly his lord
concluded their business—he’d expected no less.
“On another note,” Lyzack
said, “how has Lectias been? He’s being of use to you,
I hope.”
Lyzack could not help but
note the face Cloud made as he spoke. “My lord?”
“Well, lately he’s been
taking on clerical duties on top of his knightly ones. He’s been a great help,
truth be told.”
“I
see. Yes,
he always was a man of many talents. Had his heart not been
set on the sword, I’m certain he could have made a career for himself back home
with the pen.”
“On that, we can agree. A veritable whirlwind’s
descended on the Chancery recently, and if I didn’t have Lect to ease the
burden, I dare say you’d have found me drowning in paperwork. I have to present myself
at the palace this afternoon, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh?
I thought
you had only county matters to attend to. Has something happened?”
“It’s something all right. Next month, the Royal
Academy is playing host to a new student—a Rordpier princess. It’s being rushed through
as we speak.”
“An imperial princess? At the Royal Academy? What does this mean?”
“That our nations are
ready to bury the hatchet on a century-long rivalry born out of a war long
ended. The
emperor suggested it himself. The first step, they
proposed, was the hasty enrollment of Princess Ciestine van Rordpier.”
“Surely not this coming
semester? ‘Hasty’
would be quite the understatement.”
“His Majesty shared your
doubts and is observing this proposal with a healthy dose of skepticism, rest
assured. Regardless,
should the Rordpiers’ intentions to better relations prove genuine, let it not
be said we didn’t give them every opportunity.”
“Is it true? Do you think we’ll really see an end to hostilities, my lord?”
Cloud took a deep breath. “We can only hope. The proposal’s been accepted and preparations are being made to ensure
Her Imperial Highness receives a proper Theolan welcome. As proper as we can
manage on such short notice, anyway. She intends to present
herself at the Summer Ball.”
“You’d be right. Which is why I have to apologize to Lect in advance for the amount of
sitting he’ll have to endure in the interim.”
“Hardly.
Work the boy to the
bone.” The
viscount and his lord guffawed. “Incidentally, my lord, I
heard my brother attended the Spring Ball. Escorted a young woman, no
less?”
Cloud’s cup froze halfway
to his lips.
“It’s nothing. Excuse me. Yes, you heard right. He did indeed attend as
an escort.”
“Well, well. I was beginning to worry after his decidedly uneventful school life,
but here we are. He fancies someone, does he? This is good news.”
“I’ve never once gotten
him to meet with any potential suitors, so yes, it truly is. He always has some excuse
or other. I
must say, it fills me with pride to know he’s finally taking some initiative.”
At my direct order, Cloud thought. A fierce debate about
whether to reveal this crucial tidbit raged within him. It would put an awful
damper on his old companion’s mood, after all, to shatter his dreams of a
brother with any semblance of a spine.
“If you’d humor me, my
lord,” Lyzack went on, “what was she like? In truth, Lady
Christina’s regaled me with some of the details by letter, but you have
firsthand experience I’d love to hear about. Tell me, do you think
they might wed?”
Lyzack recoiled. “Oh. I-I see. I suppose not.”
Cloud blinked, surprised
at himself. Why in the world did I…?
“M-my apologies,” he
said, clearing his throat. “No, marriage didn’t seem on either of their minds.”
“O-of course. It’s just that, Lady Christina wrote quite the opposite. It seemed only a matter of
time to her.”
What, pray tell, has
possessed you, dear sister of mine?
“I’m certain Lect would
be happy to resolve the discrepancy,” Cloud said.
“Oh, I intend to question
him. Though,
given his lack of communication, I expect I already know the answers he’ll
give.” The
viscount smiled wearily. It seemed he was well aware of his brother’s spineless nature.
With Lyzack gone, Cloud
resumed his work. The scratching of pen against paper filled the office as he wrestled
with a seemingly endless mountain of busywork.
Cloud sighed, turning his
gaze to the window. What got into me, raising my voice like that?
He remembered the girl,
the commoner girl Lect had escorted to the Spring Ball. Cecilia, she’d called
herself. After
hearing of the passing of his beloved, Selena, and subsequently the existence
of his daughter, Cloud had given some thought to a name for his offspring. What he ultimately
settled on was that very same name—Cecilia.
She had not looked like
Selena. Selena’s
hair was golden, not brunette. Her eyes fiery, not serene. So why did Cloud see his
beloved in her? Why, upon first laying eyes on her, had he seen Selena?
That mirage must have
explained his reaction to the prospect of the girl marrying Lect.
Foolish, he thought. I’m not her father.
He was, really. He was, in fact, her father
dearest. But
lacking that knowledge, that oh-so-important context, these unconscious
feelings Cloud bore for a stranger of a girl appeared as something familiar.
Can
it be? Have I…fallen
for her?!
A nauseating thought indeed. A father entertaining
such thoughts about his daughter was a father in dire straits.
No. No, absolutely not. I can say with certainty
this isn’t love.
The count reached into a
desk drawer and retrieved a framed portrait. The sight of his one true
love set his heart aflutter. He breathed a sigh of relief. This was the rhythm of love. Cecilia conducted an
altogether different melody. Then what is this I’m feeling?
The girl had infested
Cloud’s thoughts. He had not stopped thinking of her since he first laid eyes on her at
the ball. She
did not hinder his work, thankfully, but whenever he thought of her, he froze,
and it took him some seconds to set his pen moving again. How was this possible? They’d hardly spoken a
few words to each other. A greeting and nothing more. And yet, months later,
that smile of hers lived permanently in Cloud’s mind.
It’s not love, he repeated. Not…romantic love. So then what is this pain
in my chest?
Years of tempering in the
fires of politics had forged the count’s psyche into a machine of logic and
reason. It
served him well as a lord, but it cast a pall over his instincts, those
impulsive gut reactions he often had to squash. Though he knew in his
heart the truth of this quandary, it lay jailed behind walls of pragmatism.
The girl, Cecilia, was
indeed the one he sought, the last thing left to him by his Selena. Cecilia was his daughter,
but he could not know it.
Incidentally, Melody’s
oblivious nature was less hereditary and more a statement on her as a person.
Cloud shook his head. He would not let that
greatest of desires take root inside him, but oh, how he wished it.
How he wished he could
see her one more time.
Cloud commanded his
subordinates like a conductor, setting them on task after task. The palace buzzed with
frantic energy as preparations for the Summer Ball and the upcoming semester at
the Royal Academy proceeded at a blistering pace. Normally, the academy
itself would handle such duties, but the arrival of the imperial princess
upended any sense of normalcy. This required the careful
coordination of the Chancery.
Needless to say, the
business freed Cloud from stray, Cecilia-related thoughts.
That evening, when the
day’s chaos ended, the count’s carriage rolled through the Upper District. For a mercy, Cloud had
managed to slip away and head home before nightfall.
He watched the shadows
cast by opulent buildings as the carriage made its way. He had the answer. He knew why Cecilia had
plagued him for so long.
She reminded him of her. Nothing more, nothing less.
We walked these very
streets together, he ruminated. Didn’t we, Selena?
His chest ached at the
memory.
He thought back to the
first time they got to spend any real time together. Selena had gone shopping,
and he’d concocted some scheme to “coincidentally” bump into her. Nerves left him
nauseated, and she seemed equally shy. Consequently, they didn’t
speak much that time. Such was their very first day together. Cloud had been eighteen
then, and she seventeen.
Their time together had
been so fleeting, so short. So painfully, agonizingly short. How Cloud had searched for
her, praying that they might continue where they’d left off, loving her all the
while. Fifteen
years hadn’t dulled his feelings one bit. But he’d been too late.
She was gone now. Their time together had been brief, and it would forever be brief.
Cloud’s father, the
former Count Leginbarth, had discovered their relationship and swiftly put an
end to it. Try
as Cloud might to find her, his father stifled his efforts at every turn. Cloud eventually learned
that Selena had returned to her family in the capital after her expulsion. Then she’d moved on. Cloud often found himself
wondering what might have been if only she’d stayed. If only she’d waited. But she must have had her
reasons.
Indeed she did. But Cloud would only learn of those reasons at the same time that he
learned of her death. He
had a daughter. That was why she’d left the capital. She’d learned she was
pregnant. If
one inappropriate relationship had resulted in her expulsion from the estate,
what might have befallen her if people learned she was with child? And out of wedlock at that. Doubtless she feared for
her life. For her child’s life. House Leginbarth could
have taken the child in, separating Selena from her daughter, as easily as they
could have done the unthinkable and taken much more permanent measures to erase
their shame.
Cloud clenched his fists
fiercely. For
all their disagreements, he did not want to believe his father capable of such
a thing. But
neither could he blame Selena for considering every possibility and pitfall.
Her trail went cold
beyond the capital, and with his father constantly in his way, Cloud never
found another clue until he at last inherited the countship and could
officially sanction a search. It was too late.
The memory of the day he
learned the epidemic had killed his beloved was hazy. A mess of emotions. Snippets of time. Had the notice not come
coupled with news of his daughter’s existence, doubtless he would not be in
this carriage right now. His daughter was all he had left, the one thread holding him together. Just enough to give him
hope yet not enough to close the fissure that Selena’s loss had rent in his
heart.
Selena was gone, forever
lost to him.
Did you loathe me? he asked her ghost. It did not matter to him
how they reunited. She could have rebuked him, snubbed him, spat at him, and told him she
never wanted to see him again. Cloud did not care. I only wanted you to live. Could
you not have granted me that much?
His knuckles went white
as he clenched his hands. He blamed this new, revived passion on the twilight, the sentimentality
of the fading sunlight.
If only he’d been faster. If only he’d pressed his
father harder. If only. If only. If only…
Cloud took a breath, and
his fists gradually relaxed. The logic machine
churned, returning the man to his senses.
Selena, he prayed. My love. How I miss you. How I yearn for you.
But I mustn’t linger on these feelings. I won’t. For our daughter. Now was not the time to
let despair make a prisoner of him, not after Selena had left him something so
precious. He
would not repeat past mistakes and brood until it was too late.
He went over what he knew
once more. His
daughter had supposedly traveled abroad following her mother’s passing, a
pilgrimage of sorts to soothe her broken heart. Celesty was her
name. Celesty McMarden.
Fifteen years. He’d already lost fifteen years he could have spent knowing her. Fate must have found it
amusing, he thought, to continue to hide her, to dangle time before him so
tantalizingly.
Cloud chuckled at himself. This was his divine
punishment for taking things for granted for so long and for having failed to
protect the one he loved. But this time will be different. I will not be too
late. I will find the treasure you’ve left me, Selena.
Just as he dragged his
gaze away from the window, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her—Selena.
“Stop the carriage!” he
bellowed.
The wheels screeched as
the driver hastily stopped them in the middle of the road. Cloud threw open the door
and flew out onto the street.
He gaped at the stretch of
road behind the carriage. “Selena…?”
An intersection there lay
before him, but no Selena. No
one at all. As the count stood frozen, staring blankly into the distance, the sun
sank deeper. Shadows elongated like creeping vines.
The driver eyed his lord
curiously.
Am I…seeing ghosts? But
I’m certain. I’m certain I…
It had only been an
instant, but he’d seen her. She wore her maid uniform
and looked just as young as the day they were separated. She hadn’t aged a day, in
fact. Cloud
would have recognized her out of a crowd of a hundred.
He ran to the
intersection and looked left, then right. Still nothing.
Perhaps the deep yearning
in his heart had produced a
ghost, but that didn’t matter. He would have given
anything to look upon Selena one more time, even as a ghost.
But, as was reality’s
cruel wont, it seemed but a trick of the eye. It always was. Always
an illusion. Never what
one hoped. So it
was for Cloud as well.
“Right.
My apologies,” he
replied. “Let’s depart.”
With a grim expression,
the count reboarded the carriage.
Two days later, on the
twelfth of August, in the royal capital of Paltescia, two men met at the
Leginbarth estate. At one end of the desk sat the grizzled, silver-haired celebrity
himself, Count Cloud Leginbarth. As genetics might lead
one to believe, he was indeed the biological father of Melody Wave, otherwise
known as Celesty McMarden.
On the other end stood
the imposing Sir Lectias Froude.
“You summoned me, Your
Lordship?”
It was a morning like any
other for Cloud, a busy one full of paperwork. Lect had been busy
himself, seeing to clerical duties in a separate room, when a servant appeared
with orders to bring him to the count. The count, however, was
not his usual self.
“Is something the
matter, my lord?” Lect asked.
Lect did not see much
except for many blank, thoroughly untouched documents sitting before his lord. By the look of things,
the count hadn’t completed a single task today. They were late into the
morning. Surely
he’d done something other than sit and stare blankly at paperwork.
Is something
preventing him from working? Lect wondered. Perhaps that was why he’d been summoned. Trouble? The knight drew himself
to attention.
“Lect, do you have any
plans to…attend the Summer Ball?”
“I’m sorry? Th-the
Summer Ball?”
Cloud nodded firmly. Where in the world had
this come from? Lect blinked and attempted to collect himself.
“Not particularly, no,” he
said.
“Preposterous! You
will attend.”
“What?
My lord, I
did my due diligence at the Spring Ball. It was my hope that—”
“I won’t have it! The only woman you danced with was M-Madam C-Cecilia, but what do you
think I sent you there for? Because I was up to my
ears in requests to see you! Yet you attend, hardly
pay any of these fair maidens any attention, and then off you go.”
Lect grunted. He recalled the greater reason for his attendance. Cecilia, or, rather, Melody had insisted they get in
and out quickly, however, and the knight did not care to argue.
“You’re to go to the
Summer Ball,” Cloud ordered. “And dance with many a maiden.” No reply. “Understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” the
knight answered through gritted teeth, as if this were the most heinous mission
he’d ever undertaken. Trouble, it seemed, had found him, but things would only get worse.
“Also, I want you to
bring Madam—er, Cecilia with you again,” Cloud said.
“Cecilia?
But she’s a
commoner, my lord. It was my understanding she only attended that function as a special
exception.”
Lectias Froude was
handsome, fit, knighted, trusted deeply by Vice-Chancellor Leginbarth, young, and single. Though only petty
nobility, the man quite possibly had a baronship or even a viscountship in his
future.
Which was to say, of
course, that the man was a keeper.
“I’ll repeat this for
your benefit,” Cloud said. “If you attend alone, you’ll make yourself a target for droves of young
ladies looking to steal you for themselves.”
“Have you any other
potential partners aside from Madam Cecilia?” Cloud asked.
“No,” Lect admitted, “but
she’s away from the capital at present. A proposal letter would
surely not make it in time.”
“Well, there’s no time
like the present. If you know where she is, then make haste.”
“Pardon? Go to her? Now, my lord?”
“I don’t believe I
stuttered, boy. We’re halfway through August. Rest on your laurels and
you’ll lose your chance. How long a journey is it?”
Lect considered. Cecilia (Melody) was in Rudleberg territory with her lady right now. He unfurled a map in his
mind and ran some numbers. “Five days one way by horse, I’d say.”
“All the more reason to
hurry. You’re dismissed. Off you go. Make like the wind.”
“My lord, I’ve still work
to do.”
“Leave it a while longer
then. I’ll see to it. Return home and make
preparations to depart at once.”
Lect failed to hide the
bewilderment on his face. This was unbelievably sudden, but his lord meant what he said. Despite appearances,
Cloud was fully lucid behind those hard eyes of his. Knight that he was, Lect
had only one course of action open to him.
“As you wish, my lord. If you’ll excuse me.”
He bowed and promptly
left the office.
Silence lingered in
Lect’s absence, until Cloud sighed at himself. “I’ve done it now.” Regret and self-loathing
reared their ugly heads as he hunched over his desk. “No amount of
lovesickness or meager resemblance to Selena excuses the absurdity of what I’ve
asked of him. That
I should be that lonely… What I’d give for a grave to bury myself in.”
Still, he thought, I do miss my Selena dearly.
And Cecilia was the
closest thing he had to feeling her presence, even though he did not love her
like Selena. So what did he feel for her?
It’s as if she’s there by
the girl’s side, smiling at me.
It was as if Cecilia were
his long lost—
Cloud shot up and
restored his count-like countenance to its proper, stoic form. He faced the butler who’d
entered as if all was well. “Yes?”
“I’ve a missive from Sir
Pufontis.”
Sable Pufontis, one of
Lect’s fellow knights, had embarked on a long journey to the west—a quest to
seek out his lord’s daughter and retrieve her from her supposed pilgrimage. He’d been keeping Cloud
apprised of progress by letter, or rather the lack thereof, once every two
weeks like clockwork. Occasionally he’d turn up potential leads, but typically the reports
were painfully short.
Cloud was not in the mood
for such a report at that moment. With another sigh, he
handed the letter back to the servant. “Apologies, but I’m very
busy. Tell me what it
says.”
Hesitating, he replied,
“Yes, my lord.”
The count turned his gaze
down to a document that, all of a sudden, seemed far more interesting to him as
the servant tore open the envelope. He was pondering what to
write when the butler gasped.
“Yes?”
Cloud jerked his
gaze up. It
was not typical for the butler to lose composure like this.
The servant stammered,
eyes bulging. “Sh-she…
He found her.”
“Surprise, surp… What did
you say?”
“Y-your daughter. Sir
Sable. He’s found her. He’s found the young lady!”
“I
see. Has he now? He’s found my…”
The pen slipped from the
count’s hand and fell to the desk with a clatter.
Two days prior, Serena
was strolling through the Upper District. She’d forgotten something
during her last shopping trip and had gone out to remedy that. Now, she was headed home. Though a great and magical
maid automaton, she still had the disposition of a human and so was not above
slippages of the mind.
“I’d best hurry,” she
muttered to herself. “My lord will be home shortly.”
The Royal Chancery had
evidently been inundated with work, and Count Rudleberg now wore heavy bags
under his eyes. The least Serena could do to ease the burden was ensure dinner was
prepared on time.
Holding back the urge to
run, Serena strolled down the opulent Upper District road. She could not behave in
such a slovenly manner. In public, she represented her master as well as herself, and
gracelessness would put his taste into question. Serena could not have that. So she hurried—with grace. Not that the streets were
particularly populated at this hour. A single carriage rolled by.
Just past it, Serena
reached an intersection and turned left. She was truly alone now,
or so she assumed. Someone could always be watching, and so long as that possibility
persisted, she had to mind her conduct.
If only I could hop
through Ovunque Porta, but that would be improper while Gentlesister is making
an effort to use magic less. Oh
well. Best get a move…
Oh?
A wild neigh followed by
a screech shattered the calm. She turned, but the
carriage was out of view. Maybe there’d been an accident. Or maybe she was simply
hearing things. She considered the possibilities before shaking herself and remembering
the task at hand.
With quick yet graceful
steps, she hurried on her way.
Bonus Story:
They Scream for Ice Cream
“I’D BEST BE OFF, THEN,”
ANNA-MARIE SAID.
“As should I,” Maxwell
concurred. “Until
next time, Your Highness.”
“Here’s hoping it’s under
better circumstances,” the prince said.
On the afternoon of August
15th, Maxwell and Anna-Marie were taking their leave from Christopher after
discussing the Rordpier exchange student with him. Parting ways with Maxwell,
Anna-Marie retired to her chambers in the palace. That she possessed her
own chambers in the first place as a mere suitress of the crown prince
displayed favoritism of the highest degree, but that no one objected was a
testament to the couple’s popularity.
She briefly scanned the room.
No visitors. She might have expected
her lady-in-waiting, Claris, though Anna-Marie lived alone in the palace, so
she ought not have. She’d had to fight strenuously to convince her parents to allow this,
of course. Had
she brought Claris along, her clandestine meetings with Christopher would have
become twice as difficult to arrange. As a young girl, she’d
stressed that the things she and the prince had to discuss were far too
important to allow for Claris’s company.
Claris, as well as her
parents, had grinned with amusement at that.
Thus began all the de
facto fiancé nonsense. Somehow, by the skin of her teeth, Anna-Marie remained a mere suitress,
but the threat persisted.
“No time for a trip down
memory lane. Have to get
ready.”
The lady got to changing. She bound her chest and
threw on a plain commoner’s dress. She turned her hair from
bright crimson to a ruddy bronze, thanks to some of her handmade dye, then tied
it up in a ponytail. After a touch of light makeup to emphasize some of her more boyish
features and a pair of glasses to dull the sharpness of her eyes, the look was
complete.
“And here she is! Anna
the Commoner!” Anna(-Marie) combed her fingers through her freshly done-up hair as she
examined herself in a mirror. Satisfied, she set off
for the secret passage that connected to Christopher’s bedroom. They’d created it
themselves with magic. Not a soul but them knew of its existence. Had it been a particularly
wise thing to do? Probably not.
But the
royal couple guarded the knowledge of how to enter it closely.
Once safely inside the
prince’s bedroom, Anna sat on his bed before promptly flopping over. A few lazy seconds later,
a knock came. “Come
in,” she replied dully.
Christopher, precisely
the man she’d expected, entered. He wore commoner’s garb as
well. “Hey.”
Christopher shot her a
glance that elucidated all of his thoughts regarding her use of his bed. He left it at that. It wasn’t like this was
anything new.
Some boys might have
relished the sight of a young woman sprawled on their bed. This one didn’t, and the
young woman in question would have scoffed at the implication. Being old friends from not
just one but two childhoods came with a side of shameless irreverence at times
like this.
“For the most part. I told my valet I’d be
resting and not to disturb me. Just have to be back by
evening.”
“Good.
We need a
healthy breather every now and then.”
“It’s a little more than
‘every now and then’ in your case.”
“Not the same. I can only entertain myself for so long.”
“That’s what I thought. So, Chris, is that to be
your outfit for the day? Really?”
Anna-Marie and
Christopher’s summer recess had hardly been a recess. From socializing to
public obligations to plot meetings, the royal couple had hardly had a second
to themselves. And now the recess was halfway over.
They thought to remedy
this with a little outing to the city. So Anna-Marie had become
Anna, and Christopher had become Chris. Chris, however, was a
little lacking in identity. All Christopher had
thought to do was throw on cheap plain clothes without altering his actual
face.
“I’m covered. Don’t
worry.” Christopher
turned his back to her and fussed with himself.
Anna-Marie raised an
eyebrow until he finally turned around. “Wow, that looks
uncomfortable.”
“Those are the first
words out of your mouth?” He wore a brown wig styled in exactly the same way as his normal hair,
as well as a big, bushy, full-faced beard. “A little facial hair
works wonders for hiding the profile. And it hides my age too. Am I a genius or what?”
“I mean… Whatever. It’s your funeral.”
Chris flashed his
companion a thumbs-up.
“Before you ask, no, you
can’t take any of that off,” Anna said.
“I know, but I’m still
gonna complain. Oh, hey, let’s check that place out.” Chris pointed to a fancy
little café bearing a sign with an ice cream cone. “That’s just what I need
to cool down.”
“Not a bad idea. I’m feeling a little warm myself.”
Snatching Anna by the
hand, Chris hurried off.
Judging by the bustle
within the café, everyone else had the same idea today. The staff dragged chairs
outside to handle the influx of patrons, and the commoner couple only barely
managed to snag seats.
Chris plopped down with a
heavy sigh. A merciful parasol set in the middle of the table spared them from the
sun.
“Don’t ever pull me
again,” Anna spat between pants.
Chris shrugged. “We had to hurry or we wouldn’t have gotten any seats.”
To his credit, those who
had not thought to rush as he had were currently stuck in a long line.
“Fine.
You’re still
paying, though. For
reparations.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Chris flagged down an employee, only half paying attention. The gesture came with a
natural kind of grace that attracted the glances of several women nearby. The wig and facial hair
could do little to conceal His Highness’s lean figure, or regal posture, or
those features the beard did not cover. Those possessed of a keen
eye began to take notice.
Anna, too, attracted her
share of attention. Though the promise of sweets meant the café primarily drew female
customers, a not insignificant number brought male companions. When they turned to see
where their partners were looking, they would find a beautiful young lady
sitting across from the handsome Chris. Anna did not need to be a
marquess’s daughter to be beautiful. Even disguised,
Anna-Marie could only do so much to hide her allure.
“Welcome,” the employee
said, handing them menus. “I can take your orders whenever you’re ready.”
They studied the menus,
and Chris knew his order immediately. “Iced tea and vanilla ice
cream, please. Double scoop. Anna?”
“I’m thinking,” she
mumbled, absorbed in considering her options. Chris hadn’t had to think
much, being a fan of the classics, but Anna’s taste was not so simple. “Vanilla. Mint chocolate. Strawberry.
There’s even tea
flavor. Or this
new orange sorbet. I
just can’t decide.”
Said every girl ever, Chris thought (and
thankfully did not say).
“Okay, I’m ready,” Anna
finally said, beaming. “I’ll take the All-In-One Mega Cup.”
The employee repeated
their orders, then left to prepare them.
Chris checked the menu. The “All-In-One Mega Cup”
was a combination of all five ice cream flavors topped with whipped cream,
bite-sized fruit slices, and even biscuit cookies just to offset the inevitable
brain freeze. It was a very parfait-esque ensemble. He summarized his
thoughts thusly: “Sounds caloric.”
His intentions were pure. It was indeed not the
healthiest of snacks.
Anna smiled a fake smile. “Then you’ll just have to
help me burn them off with some exercise later.”
“G-gimme a break.” Chris averted his gaze. A gesture that, to
onlookers, seemed an act of bashfulness. Some of the observers
blushed. “P-please
just go easy.”
“Oh, but that would be no
fun. I’ve
practiced for you and everything.”
The blushers blushed harder. Their imaginations ran wild. Chris’s did too, but his
fantasies were of the nightmarish variety. His excess of hair helped
hide the cold sweat breaking out on his brow.
If she gets that ice
cream, I’m as good as iced! What the hell is she practicing anyway? Her stabbing technique? What’s she got to practice
that for?! God,
there’s no winning with her!
Chris kept all this to
himself, of course. The sight of his head hanging in fear, again, appeared to the audience
as a very different, more lascivious emotion.
But Anna ended their
assumptions with a smile. An actual one this time. “I’m only kidding. I’ll let you off the hook this once. Stop sulking.”
“Just because I feel so
bad for you. I don’t want to get sweaty all over again when we’re here to cool down.
That said,
for future reference, you’d better watch your mouth.”
“This is your one pass. Pull something like that
again and I’ll follow through. I
mean it. I’ll
chase you to the end of existence.”
“Duly noted.” Chris
bowed. His intentions had been pure, but sometimes
comments were best kept to yourself. He’d learned an important
lesson this day.
As had the onlookers. Their blushes deepened,
though out of shame this time. What were they doing,
getting so worked up over the private lives of complete strangers?
“Pardon the wait,” the
employee said, returning. “Iced tea, vanilla ice cream, and one All-In-One Mega Cup.”
A large cup of vanilla
sat before Chris. Now this was a serving size he could get behind. There was at least twice
the amount he would expect back home in Japan. It still paled in
comparison to Anna’s Mega Cup, of course. Five flavors plus whipped
cream plus fruit plus cookies ended up looking a lot larger in person than it
sounded on paper.
No way
she’s not regretting that later, he thought. To himself. He was learning.
Anna dug in. She took a bite and wiggled in her chair with delight. “It’s so good!”
The orange sorbet struck
home. Still
minding her manners, Anna feasted. Chris vanished entirely
from her world, replaced completely by ice cream.
Chris sighed and focused
on his own treat. Already, the ice cream dripped, and his spoon glided through it with
ease. The
gentle yet full vanilla flavor spread over his tongue, the ice cream melting
away in his mouth along with the heat bearing down on him.
They didn’t talk for some
time, sitting in comfortable silence. Content in the quiet,
they savored their humble treats.
“From now on, I’m having
ice cream every day during summer break!” Anna declared later that day.
“Everyone
needs breathers, after all.”
Chris said nothing. Rumors would later spread
of the shriek that issued from the lady’s chambers during her dress fitting for
the Summer Ball.
You love to see the young
folk live their best lives, he thought. To himself.
Afterword
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING VOLUME 3 of Heroine? Saint? No, I’m an All-Works Maid (And Proud of It)! Atekichi here, the
author bringing you this book two and a half years after the previous volume’s
Japan release. I really never intended for it to take so long, but time has a way of
getting away from you, doesn’t it?
I hate to sound like a
broken record, but I have to repeat the exact same apology from last volume. I really can’t stress
enough how sorry I am for the wait! Setting the schedule for
this with my publisher really was an incredibly laborious process of meeting
after meeting, and I still missed every last deadline and put everybody out as
a result. But
at the end of it all, we made it, and now here we are!
A huge thank-you to
everyone involved. And to all of my readers who are here, reading this, even after our
two-year hiatus.
Anyway, let’s talk actual
content. This
time, I want to touch on the calendar.
You may have noticed
we’ve started using specific dates finally. I’ve waffled over this
since Volume 1, to tell the truth, and obviously sat on it until just now, but
frankly, it just started seeming more convenient to me to pull the trigger.
I’ve kept dates in my
noggin since the beginning—general time frames of when Melody and co. get up to what they get
up to—but I kept thinking about how our modern-day calendar being present in a
fantasy world might be a little anachronistic. So I mostly kept time
frames vague up through Volume 2. But going back and
rereading my own work, it hit me that…boy, is that convoluted and hard to read.
And I have
to keep track of it all! This could not continue.
So long story short, I’m
using a calendar now. The world itself is a fabrication from a modern-day company making an
otome game, so just assume it functions on real-world time. Turns out it really
doesn’t matter all that much! I hope I’ve convinced you
as well as I’ve convinced myself.
That said, I’m still
going to avoid days of the week.
In any case, thank you
again for reading! I’ll see you again in Volume 4, and in a timely enough fashion that you
don’t forget everything by then!
More trials await our
oblivious, oops-did-I-do-that heroine! Perhaps even the end of
her marvelous maid life?! Decisions
loom!
Ahem.
So
advertises the author who made said heroine the way she is despite her
supposedly being Japanese with Japanese sensibilities. Don’t ask me for answers. I don’t have them.
! Vol 3){kind=link}