Heroine? Saint? No I'm an All-Works Maid (And Proud of It)! Vol 6

Prologue

AS THE FESTIVAL BALL DREW NEAR, LADY Cecilia Leginbarth and His Highness Prince Christopher von Theolas met in a quiet, forgotten corner of the academy. But this was no clandestine rendezvous of the romantic variety. No, the tension in the air spoke to something else entirely.

“Your Highness! Come to your senses!”

The lady’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Dark shadows writhed on the prince’s skin, like brambles coiling around his body, his cold eyes piercing. He drew his blade slowly and leveled it at Cecilia.

She flinched. Her breath caught in her throat. They had been busy preparing for the big day, the Festival Ball, when His Highness started acting strange. Cecilia had given chase. Little did she know this would be the reward for her concern. She did not know what this was, but the presence of those strange, thorny penumbras proved something dark was at play. Indeed, black mana emanated from the very shadows.

I saw the same thing consuming the Rudleberg girl, Cecilia recalled. Her heart ached at the memory.

Luciana Rudleberg, a victim of the dark mana. Once she had served her purpose for the power controlling her, the poor girl left this world well before her time, well before Cecilia could ever get to know her. They might have been friends.

Now that same power has Prince Christopher in its grasp… No. I won’t let it happen again.

A rush of courage drowned the fear in her heart. “No more.” She planted her feet. “No more death!”

I’ll save him! I won’t let the dark mana take him too!

A cold, dead gaze met one of righteous fury. And so Cecilia fought. Alone, struggling to save those she held dear.

“Yes! Anna-oneechan! I got her to the fight alone!” Kurita Maika shook her controller with excitement.

“Not bad! That’s one step closer to Christopher’s route.” Asakura Anna preened like a proud parent.

In today’s playthrough of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, they targeted Christopher, the love interest one might call the “cover boy.” The lead, if you will.

“Every other time I tried this, I kept getting other people joining in.”

“It took me some trial and error too. It shouldn’t be hard not to increase your affection with anybody else, but they’re so hot!”

“Relatable.” Maika had managed to trigger this battle while keeping the heroine flying solo, but that could change depending on certain parameters, primarily affection with other love interests. “How are you supposed to get Christopher’s affection to at least double everybody else’s on a first playthrough, though? It’s such a choke point.”

“Well, you don’t really need to trigger the one-v-one to get on his route, to be fair. But I didn’t even know you could do it until I saw people talking about it online. Unless you do that one specific thing, you get partnered with the guy you have the next highest affection with.”

“And that’s usually Maxwell or Lectias, right?”

“Bjork and Schroden are hard because they have so few scenes at this point in the game, but apparently it’s been done. You have to take every chance you get to boost your affection with one of them while giving everybody else the cold shoulder.”

“Huh. I might try that after this. Man, there’s always something new! Are you with me, Anna-oneechan?”

“Until we’ve seen every event there is to see.”

“I love that you guys have hobbies, but can’t you do it literally anywhere other than my room?” A boy sitting behind them—Kurita Hideki, Maika’s older brother and Anna’s childhood friend—sighed. He’d endured them in silence, reading manga on his bed, but could resist rolling over and making his mind known no longer. “Was really looking forward to spending my day off alone.”

“Your fault for having the biggest TV,” Maika retorted.

“Convenient of you to ignore the living room.”

“Dad’s in there. What, do you wanna be the one to tell him to get lost on his day off?”

“You realize you’re being a hypocrite, right?”

“Would you stop being such a baby, Hideki?” Anna said. “Most men would be happy to have two pretty ladies in their bedroom.”

“Pretty ladies? Where?” Hideki made a show of scanning his room, a charade Anna did not at all find amusing. She lumbered to her feet, sending Hideki scrambling to the wall for safety.

“I have been so much more patient than you deserve, Hideki.”

“That wasn’t a jab at you! It was an honest question!”

“You know that’s worse, right?!”

Maika couldn’t help but giggle. Just kiss already.

Even as all hell broke loose, Maika knew it was part of the act, all in good fun. They’d been like this from the day she was born and hadn’t changed a bit even as high school students. Maika knew better than to worry.

Just then, the controller in her hands vibrated. “Ack!” She checked the screen just in time to see Cecilia take a massive hit of damage. “Anna-oneechan! I’m losing!”

“Crap! Right! Forgot it’d be harder. Sorry, Hideki, got bigger fish to fry here.”

They refocused. Failing this meant replaying the whole game. They couldn’t afford mistakes.

Hideki looked at them, then the TV, then sighed again. “So why’re you fighting one of the pretty boys?”

“Because of story!” Anna shot back.

“Huh?”

“It’s so hard to get a good hit in!” Maika said.

“Yeah, the heroine’s a support character,” Anna said. “It’s not a good matchup, but if we do this, we get a special CG. Do it for the CG, Maika-chan!”

“You go, girl,” Hideki said.

“Not helping, Oniichan! Gah, he does so much damage! Heal! Heal!” With every hit, Maika’s controller shook. “Don’t you lose, Cecilia-chan! My heroine doesn’t lose!”

“My heroine…doesn’t… Huh?”

Like a television switching inputs, Micah’s world changed in a blink. Literally. Something vibrated against her palm—but it was no controller; it was the Uovo del Mago. She’d fallen asleep holding it. It wasn’t unusual for it to shake like that. According to Melody, it did so in response to Micah’s emotions, and it would one day hatch, supposedly, into a friend, a partner who would allow Micah to cast spells like a real mage.

But not yet. Right now, it was still just an egg. An egg that shook sometimes.

Micah lurched up from her bed. Her room at the Rudleberg estate was beginning to feel less like a guest room. “Right. Just a dream. Obviously.”

It seemed like a lifetime since she’d seen her friends and family from her previous life, much less dreamed about them, and it left a smile on her face.

Perhaps “lifetime” was no exaggeration. Strangely, Micah did not remember much of her adult life, but she did know she had lived to at least her sixties. That ought to have been enough time to grieve, if she could remember any of it. Now, she was just a young teenaged girl bereft of her brother and best friend. Dreaming of them came with a bittersweet edge.

The egg shook.

“Wait, what time is it?!”

Her groggy consciousness at last fully awakened, and Micah remembered the date: October 2nd. Melody was supposed to send her, Rook, and Lect to the County of Rudleberg. It was a school day, granted, so she would only arrive after seeing Luciana off to class, but Micah had much to prepare before then. Far too much for her to waste time wiping the sleep from her eyes.

She leaped up and, in a flurry, made herself presentable. She had her tutor, Serena, to thank for such swiftness. October meant it was time for a seasonal change of wardrobe, so she quickly dressed herself in her long-sleeved uniform.

“Clothes: on! Okay! Off I go!” the young maid-in-training said to no one, a consequence of the dream, perhaps. She felt like a student on her way to school again.

Chapter 1:
A Return to Form

MELODY’S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN LONG before the birds sang to greet the day. In the absence of their chirps, she rose from bed and threw open the curtains. No light poured in. It was autumn, and the sun liked to sleep in this time of year, very much unlike Melody.

This was her usual waking time. That hadn’t changed, even during her two weeks as Cecilia. During that odd time, she had burned with a passion no less fierce than normal—a desire to protect her lady—and yet those days had proved a most arduous trial. With each passing moment, the darkness pressed in closer. But this morning, she was home, with a promise of the light to come.

Melody gazed out the window, heart fluttering with anticipation. Well, duty calls. It’s good to be back!

As the sun lifted its head over the horizon, a smile graced her lips.

It was September 28th, and Cecilia, recently diagnosed with mana sickness, had just left the capital a day prior, as witnessed by Count Cloud Leginbarth himself. Everything was back to business as usual. Melody’s lady even had class this morning.

“Stream—Fare Acqua.”

The maid filled a basin with magically conjured water and quickly washed her face, then fetched her uniform, the short-sleeved variant she’d been using since August, from her closet. When she opened her window, a gust of fresh air danced into the room, chilly, pre-sunrise air caressing her bare arms. Thanks to the charms on her clothing, the chill was by no means unpleasant, but the seasons were indeed changing, a fact she felt keenly.

“Suppose that’s the end of summer uniforms,” she mused.

October lay just around the corner. While the afternoons were still warm, nights and early mornings betrayed autumn’s approach. This called for a change of wardrobe, and not just her own. Melody giggled with delight at the prospect of adjusting her mistress’s dresses.

She’d had a short sabbatical from maid work. It was only two weeks, yet it felt like she was home for the first time in years. It seemed absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder.

I have my lady to thank for helping me see reason, she thought.

Had Luciana not gone to such lengths to convince her maid of her capabilities, Melody might have continued forcing herself to play the role of Cecilia—to the detriment of her health. After all, how could she have gone back on her word when Melody herself had been the one to insist on the arrangement? Cecilia’s entire purpose was to protect Luciana, going so far as to seek aid from Lect’s brother, Viscount Lyzack Froude, in order to gain access to Royal Academy. Through Lyzack, Melody met with the vice-chancellor, Count Cloud Leginbarth, who endorsed Cecilia’s enrollment.

So when Melody started withering away from acute maid deficiency a little over a week later, well, it was a terribly embarrassing predicament to say the least. Melody had some measure of self-awareness in regard to her passion for all things maidly, but this development, the deterioration of her physical body, came as a shock even to her. It was unthinkable for her to go back on everything she’d promised over something so ludicrous. Truly, had Luciana not stepped in to propose it herself, Melody would have undoubtedly gone on enduring her own personal hell, all for the sake of self-imposed duty. She was blessed to have such a mistress.

I am reaffirmed in my loyalty to you, my lady. I am forever at your service!

Shutting the window, Melody swiftly departed.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“I’ll be up in…eventually.”

“I’m afraid ‘eventually’ is not a unit of time, my lady.”

With great effort, Melody roused her sleepy lady, then served her some morning tea. Even half asleep, eyelids still firmly shut, Luciana sipped gracefully by muscle memory. The comforting warmth of the tea permeated her body, and a contended sigh left her lips.

“Nothing like some of your tea to drive the sleepies away.”

“Finally awake, are we?”

“Good morning, Melody.” Luciana smiled as if she had not been teetering on the edge of sleep just moments prior. She’d been waking up to Micah’s tea the past couple of weeks, but Melody’s was special.

Upon getting her properly dressed in her day clothes, Melody served her lady breakfast. After that, Melody dressed her again, this time in her uniform.

“I feel like we could make this routine a little more efficient,” Luciana mused while Melody fussed over the details. She was of a mind that breakfast could be enjoyed just as well in pajamas as in any other clothing. Melody was not. Micah too, whipped to Serena’s standards, had not allowed such an indulgence.

“Do you believe the retinue at your home estate more efficient?”

“Well, um, no. They made me change too.”

“Naturally. Nightwear is never to leave the bedroom, my lady, unless you, a count’s daughter, think it proper to strut about in front of Rook in hardly anything at all. He was here until just yesterday, you know.”

Few things were more scandalous than for a noblewoman to bare her body before a man, whether that man was a servant or no. The matter wasn’t up for debate, as far as Melody was concerned.

“I know why we do it,” Luciana whined. “It’s just annoying.”

“Perhaps it will be necessary after all,” Melody mumbled to herself, though not so quietly that the noblewoman’s ears, keen to danger, could not pick it up.

“What will?”

“Why, your own crash course on what it means to be a—”

“All dressed!” As soon as Melody finished her work, but before she could complete her sentence, Luciana reached for her bag and made to flee. To escape. Before the evil could be spoken.

“My lady!”

Lithely swiping her school bag from her desk and evading Melody with the same dance-like steps the maid had taught her, Luciana glided to the door of her dorm room. The feat stunned Melody, but she soon gave chase.

“My lady!” she called again.

But it was not her lady who waited at the door. Instead, a sparkling, resplendent icon, an idol of refinement, a beacon of what it meant to be a lady awaited her. She was a very affected idol, granted, but the act was convincing.

“Goodbye, Melody. I shall away to class now. There is much to learn!”

“My lady, what happened to your voice?! Are you ill?!”

The pretender tittered. “Ah, but is it so strange that a noblewoman would carry herself with nobility? Anyway, so, um, won’t be needing that crash course, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, at least follow through! Have a good day, my lady!”

Luciana dashed away, waving behind her, and the door slammed shut. By the time Melody made it there and opened it again, her lady was gone.

“Good grief,” she sighed as she caught her breath. She stared down the empty hallway for a while, and a smile soon snuck up on her. How she’d missed these chaotic mornings. She was back. Truly back.

It’s good to be home, she thought. The Cecilia affair had caused much trouble for no small number of people. For Cloud, her sponsor. For Luciana, her lady. For her colleagues. For her instructors and classmates. She found that once she began to count the hardships she’d caused, it was difficult to stop. But each incident only served to harden her resolve. I’ll just have to do my work even better from now on. For them!

Cecilia McMarden the student was no more. Her soul would live on in Melody Wave the maid.

She shut the door and faced the dorm room. “Melody Wave, at your service!”

It was the first day of her homecoming. And she had every intention of staying this time.

It was afternoon by the time Melody finished cleaning and doing the laundry. Lunchtime, to be specific, so she made for the servants’ dining hall. Upon her entry, several gazes swiveled to her, but it was nothing like the scorn she’d suffered before.

Seems Micah was right.

Thanks to Luciana’s unintentional snubbing of Olivia in the first semester, the servants of House Rincot’dor, as well as any other house that had dealings with the duke, had in turn snubbed Melody. No harm had been done, save to her feelings, but she did take great relief in seeing that much of the ire had cooled in time for her return.

“Is that Melody? Hey! Long time no see!”

“Sasha!” Melody replied. “Is this seat taken?”

“It’s yours. There are no objections, I take it?” her fellow maid asked her two companions. What luck that Melody should happen upon one of her few allies just as she was looking for a place to eat.

“None,” said Blish. He and Sasha were Lady Luna Invidia’s attendants.

“None at all. By all means,” said Warren, attendant to Lucif Gelman.

The three friends seemed well, and closer than ever despite Warren being the odd one out.

Melody availed herself of the seat at their table.

“We were wondering where you’d gone off to. Nobody’s seen you since the second semester started,” Sasha said.

“I apologize for my disappearance. I only just returned to the dormitory, you see. My colleague, Micah, was standing in for me in the interim. You might have met her?”

“Oh. No, actually. I only had my eye out for you. She isn’t with you today?”

“She’s actually on business at my lady’s—”

“Excuse me,” someone interjected, “but might I sit here?”

Melody turned toward the voice. A maid who looked to be slightly Melody’s senior stood beside the table.

“Oh. Of course,” she replied.

“Thank you.” The maid put her tray down and sat with a natural, easy grace.

Who is this? Melody wondered. I’m more than happy for the company, but why here? Why with us?

The hall was not even close to capacity. With so many options available, why had the woman deigned to sit next to Melody specifically? Had she business with the maid? Melody waited for her to say something, anything really, but she did not, quietly tucking into her meal. The others followed suit.

The maid’s presence overpowered the rest of the table. In a buzzing sea of conversation, their table was an island of silence. Sasha and her friends ate more to have something to do than out of hunger.

This is…awkward. The four of them glanced between each other. A desperate attempt to communicate telepathically. Blish! Do a magic trick! Something!

You can’t be serious.

Belly dance! commanded Warren. I know you’ve been practicing!

In your dreams, maybe! You do something!

The childhood friend trio actually accomplished the supernatural feat quite well using nothing but subtle changes of expression. Melody, lacking the history they shared, was left isolated and alone.

I have to do something! she thought. She was the one to acquiesce, after all. This situation was her responsibility.

Mustering all her courage, Melody sputtered, “U-um!”

“Yes?” The woman faced her, anxiety plain on her face.

Reassured in the knowledge that the nerves were mutual, Melody gulped. “Did…did you make that uniform yourself? It’s lovely!”

“Pardon?” The word came from more lips than just the woman’s. Sasha, Blish, and Warren shared her befuddlement. Of all the questions to begin with.

“I see subtle embroidery in the fabric. Black on black is certainly hard to make out, but it’s a level of detail I personally find admirable. It’s a lovely dress for a maid!”

The woman stared, saying nothing. Then she sighed, set down her cutlery, and turned to address Melody properly. “I apologize.”

“For what?”

“The fault is mine for failing to begin the conversation. You needn’t make strained small talk on my behalf. My name is Gloriana Sancarles, and I serve House Rincot’dor. Presently, I am the assistant housekeeper of Lady Olivia’s dormitory.”

“Assistant housekeeper! So you yourself aren’t the head maid? Of…House Rincot’dor?”

Melody lit up upon hearing the maid’s title but quickly shrank back down. House Rincot’dor brought to mind something Melody had very nearly forgotten from her first day in the dining hall…

“Excuse me, would I trouble you terribly if I sat here?”

“Oh, which house do you serve?”

“Rudleberg.”

“O-oh. Oh, um, I’m sorry, but we’re waiting on someone.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“I-it’s okay. I apologize for intruding.”

The group of highborn, Rincot’dor-affiliated maids had denied Melody’s very first attempt at fitting in. According to Sasha, this had likely been a consequence of Luciana outshining Olivia at the Spring Ball. Now someone who might have played a part in the social exile Melody suffered last semester sat right beside her, quite possibly the very person who’d orchestrated the act, based on her position. What did she want?

Gloriana grinned, flattered. “I’m far too young to be housekeeper in full. The daughter of a duke deserves only the best and most experienced, and there are many more exquisite and qualified maids than I among our retinue.”

A number of servants cared for Olivia, working together to cook, clean, and see to her needs. Gloriana, youngest of House Sancarles—Nobles of the Robe equal in rank to a viscount—was still in training, her position as assistant merely a means to groom her into one day leading her own retinue of maids. By her own admission, she did not actually interact with her mistress very often, unlike Melody, because Olivia’s lady-in-waiting took charge of much of her personal care.

“Oh my,” Melody breathed. “Exquisite maids, you say?” And just like that, her misgivings vanished, entirely replaced by not-so-professional curiosity. Her imagination swelled with elaborate fantasies.

Suddenly, she gasped. Where were her manners?

“Melody Wave, madam. I serve House Rudleberg.”

“I know. In truth, I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Melody cocked her head.

“You can’t possibly be that dense,” Sasha quipped.

“What do you mean?”

“Pleasure to meet you, Madam Gloriana. I am Lady Luna Invidia’s attendant, Sasha Belton.”

“Blish Belton,” her cousin continued. “Also with House Invidia.”

“And I, madam, am Warren Zeto. I serve the Gelmans and their monetary interests.”

“A pleasure to make all of your acquaintances,” Gloriana replied.

“Madam, may I presume that the matter you’re apologizing for is in regard to last semester?” Sasha asked.

“You may.”

“But why? A lone maid admitting fault on behalf of a duke’s house is liable to damage not only yours, but your family’s reputation.”

“Indeed. And yet, Lady Olivia bade me do so.”

“Lady Olivia?!” Sasha blurted. “The duke’s own daughter?!”

Blish and Warren’s eyebrows shot up.

Gloriana lowered her gaze respectfully. “We acted independently, but we acted foolishly. We misrepresented our lady.”

“What happened exactly?” Melody asked.

“Lady Olivia is a virtuous and proud woman. No matter her personal feelings, she would never speak ill of another.”

This, Melody understood. Her short time as Olivia’s classmate was enough to show that she did not tolerate misconduct. She proved as much the day she came to Melody’s defense when others accused her of cheating on her exams.

“But ever since the Spring Ball, she has felt…discontent toward House Rudleberg,” Gloriana said. “Never in all my years of serving her have I seen her wear her heart on her sleeve in such a manner.”

“Goodness.”

“The dance. The attempt on His Highness’s life. Your lady’s act of selflessness. There was hardly a gathering of her peers where any one of these went unmentioned, and each time a scowl would blemish my lady’s countenance. We, her servants, agreed that we ought not associate with the source of her distress. We did not wish to cause Lady Olivia grief by showing unintended favor to those she may have detested.”

“I see.”

“But in doing so,” Gloriana continued, “we damaged her pride. Once apprised of our course of action, she scolded us. Harshly. But she also apologized. She apologized to us, because she believed she had misrepresented herself. She detested nobody but herself for the way she had acted. And hearing such things from my own mistress, I realized I had done a great wrong.” Gloriana raised her eyes again, meeting Melody’s before lowering her head in a bow. “I am deeply sorry for treating you the way we did.”

“P-please, raise your head! No harm, no foul, as they say! I was never particularly bothered!”

“Then you are strong. I can’t claim I could have endured such a thing and come out unscathed. And yet, I made you endure it. I acknowledge my own hypocrisy.”

“V-very good, now, please, no more apologies!”

The woman finally raised her head and met Melody’s panic-filled expression. She could but smile. “I want to do something for you. As a show of good faith. Have you any requests?”

“Good faith? Um, gosh, I don’t know. What do you think, Sasha?”

“Don’t look at me,” she said.

Melody crossed her arms and um’d and er’d. When one found oneself faced with a favor from the house of a duke, indecision spoke to one of two things: genuine innocence or overwhelming avarice. Naturally, Melody was a victim of the former. For her, the simple task of stating her desires was no simple task at all.

This amused Gloriana. “What do you say we defer? Anytime you need our help, we will come to your aid. How does that sound?”

“We?” several voices asked in unison.

Gloriana looked behind her, compelling Melody to do the same. There, at a separate table, sat a group of Rincot’dor maids watching timidly from afar.

“Granted, you may well have a small army on your hands if it were all of us. Still, whensoever you think of something we can do, do not hesitate to seek us out, and we will do what we can.”

“Actually, I have something after all!” Melody clapped.

“Oh?”

“Would lunch together be too much to ask?”

“Lunch?”

“Yes! I’d very much love to discuss the finer details of maid work over a meal!”

Gloriana blinked, stunned. Then, finally, she smiled. “It would not be too much at all. In fact, it’s so little that I fear it doesn’t suffice as an apology. We would be doubly in your debt. Sasha, how might we resolve this impasse?”

“If you ask me, madam, it’s best not to argue with this one,” the Invidia maid replied, shrugging.

Gloriana sighed, a hint of relief mingled with her resignation. With a gentle expression, she addressed Melody again. “Very well. Shall we discuss?”

“Let’s!” The maid beamed, and her newfound comrade returned the gesture.

Chapter 2:
A Short Detour

A BELL CHIMED, SIGNALING THE END OF lunchtime at Royal Academy. This warning went for the servants as well as the students, but to a lesser degree. The nature of a servant’s work naturally meant variable meal times. Still, the bell was a convenient reminder and point of temporal reference.

“Oh,” Melody said, a sad lilt to her voice. “Already?” Time did indeed fly when one was having fun. “I wish we could have spoken more, but I suppose we ought to get back to work.”

“It is…truly a shame,” Gloriana said.

“Regrettable, but inevitable,” Sasha said.

“Quite,” Blish agreed.

“Yes,” Warren said. “Quite.”

All at once, the four shared a sigh. Their minds were one: It’s finally over.

Gloriana privately regretted acceding to Melody’s request so readily. I had no idea the girl could be so…talkative.

It had been a massacre, really. Melody spoke and spoke and spoke—at length—about the most obscure, esoteric, niche topics regarding everything from cooking to cleaning, giving Sasha and Gloriana little to contribute aside from the odd acknowledgment to prove they were still listening. For Blish and Warren, who were very much not maids, it had been an exercise in smiling and nodding.

But for all the pain, Melody had had the time of her life. No one had the heart to rain on her parade, as it were.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be off,” the mad maid said. “I hope to have the pleasure of lunch with you again in the future.”

“Y-yes. Likewise,” Gloriana replied.

Oblivious to the subtle twitch in her new friend’s cheek, Melody departed the dining hall with glee. With her gone, the four who remained practically melted into their seats as the tension lifted.

“That was not at all the impression I got of her last semester,” Warren said.

Sasha nodded. “I knew she loved her job, but my goodness. She must have incredible self-control.”

“Passion makes a girl pretty.” Blish still struggled with vocabulary.

Warren was unsurprised by his comment. “In her defense, it was certainly endearing.”

Gloriana rested her cheek against her hand anxiously. “I worry for the future of our acquaintance, to be honest.”

Sasha had no comfort to give.

“Such a perfect day!”

Melody hummed the whole way back to the dormitory. She’d made a friend, and on her very first day back. She could scarcely hide her elation.

Upon returning to the room, she went through her mental list of duties. She’d finished the laundry and cleaning that morning, meaning there was little else to do but prepare dinner for Luciana. She suddenly found herself with an abundance of spare time. During the first semester, she’d used such times to assist Lect during his lessons when he’d been a temporary instructor. Thankfully, this semester, she had something else to keep the doldrums at bay.

“It’s a good thing I got my lady’s permission in advance. Gateway—Ovunque Porta.” The foyer of the Rudleberg capital estate appeared through a generic door that sprang out of nowhere. “Off we go!”

Melody stepped through, and just like that, she entered the estate. She’d had the foresight to speak with her lady ahead of time about a very peculiar concern: A single dorm room was simply far too little for her to manage. After all, she’d previously handled the entirety of the estate all on her lonesome. Without Lect’s lessons to occupy her, she needed more to do, lest she spend the bulk of her days agonizingly idle.

And so Luciana had done her the mercy of bequeathing these words: “Then you can help at the estate too, if you want.”

At first, she had strictly forbidden Melody from exercising her extraordinary powers, but that was largely due to Melody’s own ignorance regarding them. Melody rectified this during the summer recess, when she finally grasped this truth, as well as its consequences. Thus, they reached a middle ground: Melody could use her special brand of magic—so long as she kept it a secret. It was either that or leave the poor maid to languish. Luciana figured letting her help Serena with the estate was the lesser of two evils.

To no one’s surprise, Melody agreed to the suggestion without a beat of hesitation. Not only did it mean more mirthful maid merriment for herself, but it also presented a shockingly rare opportunity to work with Serena, something she had hardly done since creating the doll.

“I’ve returned, Your Ladyship.” First and foremost, of course, she had to report to Marianna, the mistress of the estate.

“Welcome home, Melody,” the countess replied.

“Are you alone? I thought Serena or Micah might be attending you.”

Marianna sat alone in her room writing a letter. “I sent them on their way. Better that than to stand next to me and stare, no? I can’t say where Micah’s gone, but Serena ought to be planning dinner with Paula.”

The Rudleberg estate was currently housing Sir Lectias Froude, the knight, and his sole maid of all work. For all the world knew, Lect was busy escorting a sickly Cecilia to the Rudlebergs’ demesne. He had to remain out of sight to maintain that illusion, so Paula had moved in to look after him.

“Understood,” Melody said. “In that case, I’ll defer to Serena. You can call for me should you need anything, Your Ladyship.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

With a bow, Melody took her leave and made for the kitchen, where she thought she might find Serena and Paula. Surprisingly, however, she did not.

“That’s odd,” she murmured. “I thought they were discussing dinner.”

Assuming they’d finished and were seeing to other duties, Melody set off to search the rest of the estate. It was as she was walking down a hallway, scrutinizing its cleanliness, that she suddenly heard metal grinding against metal. The noise got louder and louder as she headed toward the garden, where she found a most familiar sight.

“Lect and Rook,” she said.

The knight and the valet were sparring in a clearing in the fairy-tale garden (as Beatrice had been so awestricken as to put it) that Melody had meticulously crafted. Given they had forgone the wooden implements expected of a friendly match in favor of real, metal ones, this appeared more than a casual bout. This worried Melody somewhat, but it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. They’d had many similar matches when last Lect stayed here, and there’d been, as of yet, no tragic accidents.

Melody watched, almost hypnotized by the swift footwork and fierce parries. There was a theatrical beauty to it. But then they clashed, and after several tense seconds, relaxed. Without a word, they parted, and the match was over.

“Well done, both of you,” Melody said. “Water?” She conjured tea cups, then the liquid that filled them. Not tea this time. Though, rest assured, she could do tea as well.

“Melody, I didn’t realize you’d come.” The knight accepted a cup. “Thank you.”

“Thanks,” Rook mumbled.

They downed their cups in a single gulp while beads of sweat rolled down their foreheads.

“Any injuries I should be aware of?” Melody asked.

“None here. Rook?”

“None.”

“Good,” Melody said. “That was quite the bout.”

“It’s the only way I know to make myself useful,” Lect sheepishly admitted.

The Rudlebergs’ capital estate had no official guardsmen. The only individual who could serve in that role at all was Rook, the valet-in-training. Which wasn’t to say Melody or Serena couldn’t hold their own with their magic, but when danger came knocking, it would ultimately be Rook who answered first.

“The beasts cloaked in dark mana pose a considerable threat,” Lect went on, “and I expect you won’t be raising an army any time soon, so I thought to help Rook here improve his swordplay. For the safety of your estate.”

After some deliberation between Hughes and Serena, they’d decided that Rook’s training that morning would be split into two parts: domestic work before noon and combat training afterward with Lect. This was news to Melody, who’d been at the academy since yesterday.

“Your contribution is much appreciated. As is your hard work, Rook,” Melody said. “How is he, might I ask?”

Rook shot a flat look at Lect, unsure how to answer.

“Good,” Lect said. “He’s skilled. I noted this during our first sparring matches as well. He’s sloppy in ways that imply he was self-taught, but that can be polished, and he has quick reflexes. A sharp mind. So much so that not even I can let my guard down wholly around him.”

“Wow! Did you hear that, Rook?”

“‘Wholly,’” the valet echoed.

Lect only smirked. Indeed, the knight wasn’t fighting with all he had. He was genuinely impressed with Rook’s swordplay, but he was a trained knight, after all. It went without saying who would prevail in a real contest.

But he has magic, and much more of it than me, the knight admitted to himself. As to who would win a legitimate fight, it’s anybody’s guess. With lives on the line and every trick up their sleeves at their disposal, Lect might have had the upper hand in terms of sheer technique, but Rook’s spells could tilt the scales in his favor. Though not quite at Melody’s level, Rook certainly possessed formidable magic. Lect had seen that for himself during the battle with the stalker wolves. How high are my chances, realistically, against an opponent with a mastery of both sword and spell? And the way he fights. Perhaps he isn’t self-taught… Not entirely.

Many times when they crossed blades, Lect got flashes of déjà vu, like he’d seen the moves somewhere before.

“To tell the complete truth,” he said, “I sense aspects of the empire in his technique.”

“The empire? The Rordpier Empire?” Melody asked.

“Right. At times, I get the impression that he fights as their knights do.”

“You’ve seen Rordpier knights in combat?” As far as Melody knew, the last skirmishes with them had been almost a century ago, when the war ended. Ever since, the two nations had maintained a strict distance from one another. Where would Lect have seen imperial swordplay?

“Our borders aren’t entirely closed,” Lect said. “Many Rordpiers immigrate and settle here in Theolas. It isn’t unheard of. One such acquaintance of mine served time here, and we’ve sparred in the past.”

Given the political climate, such an individual did not enjoy many personal freedoms. It stood to reason that anyone from a hostile nation who possessed exceptional combat ability would interest the powers that be, if only for fear they might be a spy or conspirator. During this particular individual’s temporary detainment, Lect had snuck in a few matches with them.

“Rook’s technique reminds me of his at times,” Lect said. “I suspect he might be Rordpier himself.”

“That’s certainly a big step toward recovering his memories. Rook, does that ring any…”

When Melody faced Rook to ask him about this, she found him gnashing his teeth and gripping his head.

My head! Rook’s thoughts echoed agonizingly. The pain!

Extreme, debilitating agony struck the moment Lect mentioned he might have come from Rordpier. Rook couldn’t so much as speak. But amid the pounding in his skull, a single image broke through: A small village. Humble. Nestled among trees. Then, flames. A small hand, reaching out for the all-consuming red. But whose hand? His? Another’s? He didn’t know.

And then it vanished, gone in an instant and far too fleeting to glean anything from. Rook wheezed and heaved.

“Rook!” Melody shouted. “Are you all right?!”

Sweat poured down his face as he thudded to his knees. The pain had dulled, but his breathing remained unsteady. Was that…my past? Every second Rook spent composing himself, the image faded, until he could recall no detail but the flames.

“A memory?” Lect asked.

The valet shook his head. Perhaps it had been, but the moment was gone. Just what was the meaning of this?

Does the amnesia persist, or is he hiding something? Lect wondered. He is a difficult man to read… “Man”?

The knight searched his own memory. He was indeed a man now, so much so it was easy to forget that he looked like a boy not so long ago. After he lost control of himself to some unknown power, Melody had cast a spell on him, saving his life and mysteriously transforming his body.

Lect scowled. He was hardly taller than Micah when first I saw him. To be so young yet so skilled with a blade, and without proper instruction, can only mean he taught himself out of necessity. And that speaks to a certain kind of life. A hard-fought one. Who are you, Rook?

It did not bode well for a single remark to incapacitate the valet so thoroughly. Eventually, Rook calmed his breathing and rose with a shaky exhale. He wiped away the sweat, fixing the knight with a look, impatience flashing in his eyes. “Let’s go again,” he said.

“Absolutely not!” Melody said. His legs were still shaking, despite his attempts at bravado.

Lect shook his head, agreeing. “We’ve sweat an ocean. Let’s take a moment to recuperate and change, shall we?”

“I concur. You’ll chill yourselves to the bone if you keep this up after dark, which I know you will.”

Rook blinked. The maid’s puffed-up cheeks did not at all match the drama of the moment, but they were certainly intimidating in their own way. He sighed. “Fine.”

“Then we change and rest,” Lect said. “Melody, if you’ll excuse us.”

“Of course. Do take care,” she replied.

The men left, and Melody was alone again to resume her search.

“Now, where could they be?” she murmured.

She’d walked the estate already, and they weren’t in the garden. With no other leads to go on, Melody returned to the kitchen. “There you are!”

“Gentlesister,” Serena responded.

“Hey there, Melody,” Paula said.

Even Grail was there to greet her with a series of shrill yips and whines that surely rang with glee. That he was writhing and twisting in an attempt to escape Serena’s arms was obviously unrelated. Besides, his struggling was to no avail—the doll’s grip was as good as iron.

“Where were you?” Melody asked. “Her Ladyship told me you were discussing dinner, so I checked here earlier, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Ask your friend here.” Paula pointed at the pup.

Serena shrugged even as she grinned.

“Grail was conducting a little heist,” Serena explained. “Involving the sausages in our pantry.”

It was one measly sausage! the pup yipped.

“Again? He’s been doing that lately,” Melody mused. She was reminded of the day she left for her enrollment test at the academy. She’d been waiting in the foyer when Grail came scampering across the room with a sausage in his snout. Melody had more pressing matters to deal with that day, so she never saw the conclusion of that particular escapade, but presumably Serena had swiftly captured the villain.

“He’s become an awful glutton, yes.”

“Maybe we haven’t been feeding him enough.”

“I’ve been feeding him more and more, though.” Serena frowned at the pup.

Paula frowned too, but with noticeably less sympathy. She considered, generously, that the little fellow might have hit a growth spurt.

“We really shouldn’t give him something every time he asks, though, or he’ll swell up like a balloon,” Melody said.

“Yes, I’ve been doing my best to monitor his diet closely, but if he’s turning to pilfering…”

“Perhaps the lock on the pantry needs looking into. You’re remembering to keep it shut, surely.”

“Of course. I haven’t a clue how he opens it.”

“Clever little thief we have here,” Paula growled.

Ow! I yield! Cease! Grail whined as the maid teased him. Is it such a sin that I consume when I hunger?! I require more sustenance!

Grail had been unnaturally famished lately. Nothing seemed to fill his belly, no matter how much he ate. When this started and why was still a mystery, but he presumed it had something to do with his new body’s growth.

Such ruinous timing, just as what meager mana I have left has fully integrated with this form. Would that I could do more with it than open doors.

Thanks to a thorough scrubbing from Melody, the Dark One had lost much of its mana, and it still had to adapt to its puppy-shaped vessel. Now, with the wicked power of concentrated negativity, the ancient evil, scourge of the world, terror manifest, could at last open simple locked doors for the purpose of stealing sausages.

The Dark One’s pride lay in tatters, to say the least. Grail fumed at his powerlessness. Damn you! Damn you all! When I make my return, all shall tremble! You wretched souls will be the first to taste…my…

“And he’s asleep,” Melody said.

“He’s got his priorities straight, I’ll give him that,” Paula said. “That’s a growing boy if I ever saw one.”

Serena giggled. “He sure is.”

Tuckered out by his own rage, Grail let out cute little puppy breaths as he fell asleep. The girls took pity on him, for there was nothing the adorable scamp could do that they could not forgive.

“I suppose we’ll just have to feed him more,” Serena concluded.

“Do watch his weight,” Melody warned.

“Of course, Gentlesister.”

“I wish my master would get me a puppy,” Paula grieved, poking the pup’s lazily outstretched tongue. Melody and Serena giggled.

Yes, the pup thought as it dozed. This hunger… It began when I consumed…the fragment…

But soon, there were only dreams.

Chapter 3:
Micah’s Request and Midterms

PLACING GRAIL IN HIS BASKET TO SLEEP, Melody returned to the matter at hand. “Serena, I intend to prepare Lady Luciana’s dinner while I’m here. Will that be a hindrance?”

“Not at all. I’d relish the opportunity to cook together.”

They smiled at each other, and preparations were soon underway.

“What is Micah doing? Do you know?” Melody asked, filling the silence. Work did not slow for the chatter.

“I sent her to shop for ingredients. There were a number of items we needed to restock.”

“I can find much in my woods, but certainly not everything.” Herbs and meat abounded, but vegetables and other seasonings required a traditional trip to the market. Melody nodded in understanding.

“Hey,” Paula whispered to Serena, “does she still not know what those ‘woods’ of hers actually are?”

“Likely not. Gentlesister struggles with matters of common sense.”

“How can she be so smart yet so oblivious at the same time? Shouldn’t we tell her?”

“Our lady hasn’t figured it out yet, so truthfully, I’m not sure. I fear it isn’t our place.”

True to their assessment, Melody went on with her work, completely oblivious to the conversation occurring next to her. Despite the many, many times the truth had stared her in the face, she had yet to piece together the fact that her personal pantry was, in fact, the Great Vanargand Wood, the largest blightland in the world. Truly, her genius had come at a great cost.

Not long after they got dinner underway, a bright and cheery voice cut through the kitchen. “I’m back!”

“Micah, welcome back.”

“Miss Melody! I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you something.”

Melody cocked her head. “Oh? What about?” She surrendered her spot at the counter to Serena and Paula so she could face the little maid.

“The trip to the county is coming up. You’re sending us there, but could you also use your magic to bring us back?”

Cecilia McMarden, stricken with mana sickness, had left for the County of Rudleberg just yesterday. It was a five-day journey by carriage to Luciana’s girlhood home, but the plan, as proposed by Micah and her distaste for travel, was for Melody to send them there via magic on the day they would have arrived naturally. Because of this, those who were supposed to be on the road—Micah, Rook, and Lect—had to lie low at the capital estate. Micah now proposed they use the same strategy to skip the return trip.

Melody pondered it. “Perhaps if it were only Lord Hubert we had to fool. He knows about my magic, so that would be of no concern. If he has company, though, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.”

Hughes’s younger brother, Hubert, knew about Melody’s magic thanks to an impromptu family meeting the Rudlebergs had held months prior during the summer recess. He was the only person in the county who bore such knowledge, however.

“I trust all of House Rudleberg’s servants,” Melody continued, “but we ought not invite accidents.”

“Oh. Right. Schue couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, I bet.” Micah read between the lines and didn’t press the issue. The tan, golden-haired boy was nothing if not handsome. Quite literally nothing. Every time he smiled, that saving grace of his crumbled to dust. What was worse, the valet-in-training was a terrible flirt who’d tried to court Melody moments after meeting her, earning him a hearty thwack from Luciana’s harisen.

That was Micah’s first impression of the boy called Schue. Her opinion of him was accordingly low. She could think of few men so unsavory.

“Wait,” she said. “That’s right. I remember Master Ryan mentioning he would be joining Lord Hubert.” Micah growled. “Leave it to him to ruin everything!”

“Dyrule will be there too, as I recall, so I think you’ll have to give up on this plot.”

Micah growled again, this time clutching her head. “Okay. No teleporting. But can we at least figure out a way to use the magic cottage?”

“Magic cottage? Ah, you mean Spazio Tempo Dominare.” Melody had used the spell—a product of her trademark maid magic—during their trip to the county to provide them with luxurious lodging along the way. She stored it in an inconspicuous, snow globe-esque ornament. By simply burying the base in the ground, she could produce a cozy cabin complete with kitchen, toilet, and bath. Frankly, it was nicer than most inns the average traveler might encounter. Micah’s request was understandable. “I’m not quite sure how that would work without me. You would have no water, seeing as it’s all sourced magically.”

Portability came at the price of plumbing. Melody had to get creative to establish running water in the cottage, which meant the system relied entirely on her to work properly.

“Um, well, what about Rook? He can conjure water! Can you make it so he can operate it?”

“That’s true. Somehow, I always forget he can use magic. That could work.”

“Yay!”

“We ought to ask him first.”

“I’ll go grab him!”

Micah vanished, then swiftly reappeared with the stoic valet in tow. Upon hearing their proposal, he replied, “No.”

Micah loosed a melodramatic whine. “But why not?!”

“Would take too much mana.”

“For crying out loud, how come all Miss Melody’s spells are mana guzzlers?!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Melody said meekly.

By Rook’s estimation, simply enlarging the cottage to a livable size required an exorbitant amount of mana, more than half of his magical reserves. The same went for shrinking it back down.

“B-but if we take it out in the evening, he’ll be rested up enough to shrink it again the next morning, won’t he?” Micah pleaded. “That’s gotta work, right? Right? Probably? Maybe?”

“You would be asking me to not only drive but also defend the carriage while perpetually enervated,” Rook countered. “And that’s to say nothing of the water I would need to conjure. A single day would do me in.”

“We could…do that one day?”

“Micah,” Melody said. “Lect and Dyrule are capable men, but there’s no sense in risking everybody’s safety when it’s entirely avoidable. Don’t be difficult.”

“Indeed,” said a low voice that was not Rook’s. “You’re only a child, and if needs must, we can evacuate you with relative ease, but an incapacitated, fully grown man is another story. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Oh. Didn’t see you there, Master.”

“I know, Paula.” Lect was indeed there. He’d just been training with Rook, after all.

“Aw, man…” Micah wilted, resigning herself to an agonizingly normal and luxury-free trip home.

“I’m sorry,” Melody said. “I tried.”

“I know. It’s okay. I don’t want to throw a tantrum.” She settled for a sigh, but that seemed to satisfy her for the moment. Thankfully, the matter hadn’t soured her mood too terribly.

“In any case, now that that’s settled, would you mind lending us a hand with dinner?” Melody said.

“Yes, madam!” Micah replied.

Melody smiled, pleased with the trainee’s spirited reply. Work resumed at once.

“Rook, you get over here too. We can knock this out in a flash.”

“Sure,” the valet mumbled.

“Er,” the knight waffled, “should I…”

“You can sit your butt down before you knock something over,” Paula said.

“That’s discrimination!”

“Says the blue blood. Masters and mistresses don’t slave over stoves. Now let us do our jobs.”

Lect sagged and trudged out of the kitchen, bested by words. Unfortunately for him, Melody, his only ally, was in work mode and had tuned out the entire conversation. Alas.

Dinner complete, Melody returned to the academy, where Luciana awaited her return. Not long after, the door of the dorm room flew open.

“Melody! Emergency!”

“Welcome home, my lady. Not the most becoming of entrances.” Melody eyed Luciana shrewdly as she stormed inside. The lady paid the look no mind. “What’s this ‘emergency’?”

“It’s terrible! Midterms are coming!”

“Midterms? When?”

“October 1st!”

“Three days. That’s awfully short notice. Didn’t the semester not begin just two weeks ago?” Even if the stalker wolf incident hadn’t delayed the term, they still would have returned to the academy barely over a month ago. Melody thought it odd that midterms would be conducted so soon.

“Apparently it’s because most of the month is spent preparing for the Festival Ball. Testing begins early in the second semester,” Luciana said.

“And the Festival Ball takes place on the 31st. True, exams would be rather intrusive any later into the month.”

“Yeah, and I’m freaking out! What am I going to do?!” The school schedule had completely slipped Luciana’s mind.

Melody found her exaggerated consternation terribly adorable and couldn’t help giggling. “Things may look bleak, my lady, but consider this: The material on the exams can only reasonably include what you’ve learned in the last two weeks. So long as you’ve been studying as you ought to, I see no reason why this should prove a… My lady?”

Luciana suddenly refused to meet Melody’s gaze, a damning admission in and of itself.

Melody’s eyes hardened like ice. “My lady, you have been studying in my absence, yes? As I personally and sternly oversaw last semester?”

Luciana shivered under that frigid gaze. “I-I was beside myself, Melody! Cecilia was so new to everything, and I wanted so badly for you to fit in! I was too busy thinking about you every night to, er…”

“To study.”

“It’s not my fault! You have to believe me! After all, you did get sick! I was right to worry!”

“Your perception is second to none, my lady. Why, I might not be here, serving you again, had I not been graced by such sagacity. I am truly grateful, and forever humbled by my folly.”

“E-exactly!” Color returned to Luciana’s expression and hope to her eyes, but the smile on Melody’s lips struck terror into her soul. She flinched. “M-Melody?”

“Rest assured, my lady, I will make amends. For it was my own mistake that caused you such distress and cost you your academic readiness. This wrong, I shall thoroughly right.”

“Let’s not be hasty! I can take care of it! I can—”

Melody gently clapped her hands. “There’s no time like the present, and we have much to make up for. Let’s begin the crash course, shall we?”

That phrase. That evil phrase. Instantly, Luciana thought of Micah’s deadened expression, the trauma engraved upon her by the Dorm Service Crash Course. “I can study, Melody! I promise I can do it by myself!”

“No time to delay. Dinner can come later. With me, my lady.”

“No! Please! Mercy!”

Me and my big, dumb mouth! Luciana was powerless. Not even her authority as mistress could stay Melody’s hand when it came to her education.

“And nobody heard from her again. What became of the poor girl, as well as the torments she endured, was forever lost to time.”

“That’s slander, my lady. You’ve made a mistake. Rectify it.”

“Sorry, madam! Right away, madam!”

The governess from hell had been reborn. All Luciana had to do to seal her away again was solve her many problems. Simple.

Chapter 4:
Something with Cecilia

IT WAS BARELY MORNING. THE SUN HAD YET TO rise, and a subtle chill lingered in Melody’s room. It prickled along her arms where her short-sleeved uniform left them exposed.

“Rethread—Ricucitura.”

Suddenly, her uniform shone as it came apart at the seams. Countless threads danced about the room, enveloping her.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Morning,” Luciana yawned.

“Your tea. The waking world awaits.”

As it always did, the warmth of her maid’s tea brought life back to the groggy lady. As the fog lifted from her vision and Melody came into focus, she realized something at last. “You changed your uniform?”

“You noticed?” the maid giggled. She’d been wearing short sleeves since August for comfort, but now she went back to the original, long-sleeved variant she’d worn in spring. “It’s October now, and the weather’s gotten cooler. I thought it a suitable time for a swap.”

“But I thought all your clothes never let you feel too hot or cold.”

“Now, don’t be uncouth, my lady. I’m getting into the spirit of the season.”

Luciana laughed. “Fair enough. It looks perfect on you.”

“You’re too kind, my lady.” Melody’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.

“I wish the academy had seasonal uniforms.” The lady sighed as her maid dressed her.

“That might prove problematic.”

“I know, but still.”

At Royal Academy, men wore blazers and pants year-round. Women wore blazers and skirts. Year-round. At a typical Japanese high school, boys and girls alike would have been allowed to forgo their outerwear in the hotter months, but such risqué outfits exposed far too much skin for the delicate sensibilities of Theolan nobility. So the blazers would stay on. Year-round.

“There we are,” Melody said, putting the finishing touches on her lady’s uniform.

“Thank you as always.”

“It is my duty, my lady. Best of luck on your exams today.”

“I don’t imagine I’ll need much of it after your tutoring, but thank you anyway.”

Luciana’s mind wandered back to the previous three nights and Melody’s Second Semester Midterm Crash Course for Royal Academy First-Years. Oh, the pain. If I can’t ace these exams after all that, I’m as good as dead. You can do this, Luciana! No more crash courses! Not ever!

My, she’s so motivated! Melody thought innocently. I just might have to tutor her for the next exam too!

They burned with passion. The kindling could not have been more different, but they burned all the same.

Royal Academy’s second semester midterms took place over the course of three days, from October 1st to October 3rd. Subjects consisted of all seven included in the core curriculum: contemporary literature, mathematics, geographical studies, historical studies, foreign languages, matters of etiquette, and arcane studies. This first day would consist of contemporary literature, mathematics, and a written test for matters of etiquette. There would be no electives, the afternoons instead being allotted to study time.

“Do you have lunch plans?” Melody asked.

“I’ll be eating in the dining hall, then I intend to study with Luna and the others.”

“Understood. But, my lady, I’d be glad to help if you’ve found our sessions insufficient.”

“Sorry, I’m booked! You understand! Collaborating with classmates! Fostering fellowship!”

“Of course,” Melody giggled. “Well, I shan’t keep you. Do enjoy yourselves.”

“That’s the plan! I’m off!”

“Have a wonderful day, my lady.”

After seeing Luciana off, Melody swiftly set about her morning routine. Cleaning. Laundry. Lunch with Sasha’s group. She suffered a brief disappointment thanks to Gloriana’s absence. And with that, she whisked herself away to the estate.

“I’ve returned, Your Ladyship.”

“Welcome home, Melody.” The countess tittered. “Look at us, already settled into the routine.”

“It’s an honor to be at your service, my lady.”

“Well, I’m glad to see more of you these days. We’ve become strangers since you went off to the academy with my daughter.”

Melody had spent that first semester almost entirely at Royal Academy, and then she’d gone off to her lady’s home county over the summer recess. She and Marianna had not interacted much as a result. Though only four days in, this semester promised a refreshing change to that status quo.

“This is only possible thanks to Lady Luciana permitting me to use the gateway spell, my lady.”

“Don’t get complacent, now. We’re strict about your magic for your own good, you understand.”

“Of course.”

“Serena and Paula are seeing to dinner in the kitchen. I believe Micah and Rook were double-checking their luggage ahead of their trip.”

“I shall see where I’m needed, Your Ladyship.”

Melody went first to the kitchen. “Serena, is there anything that needs… Oh. What is everyone doing here?”

Micah, Rook, and even Lect joined Serena and Paula. Every eye turned to Melody as she entered the kitchen.

“Perfect timing, Gentlesister.”

“What’s this about?”

“We were considering a matter Micah brought to our attention. It’s proven troubling.”

“What might that be?” Melody asked the little maid.

“It’s… Well, it’s about Cecilia,” Micah replied. “What do we do with her exactly?”

“‘Do with her’?”

With their arrival at the county slated for tomorrow, something had occurred to the maid-in-training. Namely, that they needed a backstory for Cecilia while she was “recovering” there.

“Cecilia is going to be in Rudleberg territory for her health, but you, Miss Melody, are going to be here in the capital. What if Lord Leginbarth decides to make a surprise visit? How will we explain ourselves?”

“Surely my lord has sense enough to refrain from something like that,” Lect said.

“Surely, but what’s stopping His Lordship from sending a messenger to ask for her on his behalf?” Paula pointed out.

Concern bubbled up within Melody. This was a very real possibility. Cloud had come to see Cecilia personally upon hearing she’d fallen ill, so it was not unthinkable that he might send an envoy in his stead one day.

Melody looked to Lect, who was rubbing his chin. “What are you thinking?”

“I think it’s likely,” he admitted. “If he happened to send me, it would be an easy enough deception, but we can’t count on that. Micah raises a good point.”

My lord’s interest in the girl borders on obsession, he thought. But why? Where does this passion come from? I haven’t seen such fervor in him since he bade us seek out Lady Selena. Unless… Lect whipped toward Melody. Had Cloud realized Cecilia’s true identity? That she was the daughter left behind by his lost love? Lect shook his head. If his lord did indeed know, he would have acted more decisively. Perhaps he suspects something. His intuition is sharp, if nothing else.

If Cloud suspected, then their ploy was in more danger than any of them knew. Lect frowned. “It would be wise to formulate a contingency plan. A double perhaps. Excuses to give any potential visitors.”

“Melody, can you make a lookalike?” Paula asked.

The maid crossed her arms and thought. Could she? “I suppose I could leave a clone of myself in the Cecilia disguise, but Alter Ego only works while I consciously maintain the spell. That would be difficult to manage from such a distance.”

“The fact that the answer wasn’t simply ‘no’ is just a little absurd.” Paula admonished herself for assuming otherwise.

“We can’t rule out the possibility that some sort of emergency could send somebody barging in at any time,” Micah said. “Even the middle of the night.”

Melody nodded. They couldn’t have Cecilia vanishing from existence every time Melody shut her eyes. That was just asking for trouble.

“As I understand it,” Serena said, “we need to plan as if surprise visitors are an inevitability, not a possibility.”

“Agreed,” said Paula. “Any ideas, Melody?”

“Well, I…” For all her powers and knowledge, Melody did not always have all the answers, contrary to expectation.

While all present racked their brains, Rook spoke up. “Shouldn’t we ask Lord Hubert?”

It was like a ray of enlightenment broke through the clouds of consternation. It was logical. It was constructive. It was common sense.

“You’re very right, Rook,” said Melody. “It only makes sense that we should seek the opinion of all parties involved. Thank you for saying so.”

“It’s Lord Hubert’s home, after all,” Micah added. “Appreciate the reminder. Good suggestion.”

Rook simply looked away and grunted his bashful acknowledgment. “Perhaps we shouldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“True. Tomorrow, only Micah, Rook, and myself are expected to arrive,” Lect said. “We can’t settle on a course of action without Melody present.”

“Only Lord Hubert knows the extent of Gentlesister’s magic,” Serena added. “But his retinue is likely to join in on any meeting you attempt to arrange. You’ll have little opportunity for privacy once you arrive.”

Everyone agreed. They had to resolve this matter quickly, before problems arose. Melody gauged their reactions, then said, “I’ll speak with him.”

“Should we come with you?” Micah asked.

“That shouldn’t be necessary. I’ll simply pop in and see if he has time.”

“Be sure to inform Her Ladyship,” Serena reminded her.

“I will. Be back soon.”

“Safe travels,” said Micah.

Melody left the kitchen for Marianna’s chamber, where she relayed the situation.

Marianna rested her cheek against her hand and sighed. “I’d hoped we could be done with skullduggery after the carriage left, but lies do beget lies, I suppose. Very well. Speak with Lord Hubert. Bring him here if need be.”

“Thank you, Your Ladyship, and my apologies for the complication.”

“Don’t ever apologize, Melody. You’ve done far more for us than you know, and a silly hiccup like this hardly diminishes that. Give my regards to the bailiff.”

“Yes, my lady. By your leave. Gateway—Ovunque Porta.”

Melody stepped through the door and onto Rudleberg soil. She’d come to the deserted stretch of road they’d stopped at for lunch before reaching the estate. Notably, it was also where she’d left the county with Lect via Benvenuti Porta.

“Hide—Trasparenza. Flight—Ali da Angelo.” Once certain she was alone, Melody turned herself invisible and let magic wings sprout from her back. “I sure hope this is easy.”

The wings beat, carrying her gently toward the estate. Or, rather, the temporary estate she’d built next to the remains of the original after an earthquake claimed it. It didn’t take long to traverse the distance, but Melody hovered for some time, struggling to find the county’s bailiff.

I thought I might at least see Schue tending to the garden, she mused. She descended so she could peer through one of the windows.

“Now, what to make for dinner?”

“You can’t ever have enough recipes when you’re cooking every day.”

“Dyrule never has an opinion one way or another. It’s torture.”

The estate’s maids—Lullia, Mira, and Aasha—were chatting in the kitchen. Indeed, Serena and Paula had just been discussing such matters themselves as dinner drew near.

“If I ever find a man and he pulls that, I’d better not hear a word of complaint,” Mira said. “No matter what I put on his plate.”

“He’s doing it before he’s even asked for your hand? Tread carefully around that one, Aasha.”

“Dyrule and I aren’t like that!” Aasha’s entire face burned, much to Lullia and Mira’s amusement. ’Twas maidenly instinct to engage in such teasing and tomfoolery. Even Melody couldn’t help but grin.

“Er, not the time,” she admonished herself. “I need to find Lord Hubert!”

Fighting her own maidly instincts, Melody pried herself from the kitchen and continued her search. If the man wasn’t tending to his beloved fields, chances were he was cooped up in his office on the second floor. Melody did a quick search through all of the first-floor windows, then headed upward. Being the building’s architect, she located the correct room easily enough and finally spied her quarry sitting with his back to her.

“There he is. But Master Ryan, Dyrule, and even Schue are with him. I’ll have to wait until he’s alone.”

Every man in the estate sat at their own desk, stoically scribbling away.

I might be waiting a while, Melody thought.

Hubert shifted in his seat, his concentration drifting. Dyrule, a man of the sword, not the pen, stared holes through the paper before him. Ryan was comparatively focused, and even afforded himself glances at the others while he worked. And then there was Schue, the valet-in-training, humming contentedly. Melody could not hear the tune, but the way he swayed betrayed the rhythm.

Oh, wow. He’s working surprisingly fast.

Bureaucracy was the last thing she’d expected the flippant gardener to excel at, but every sheet Schue passed to Ryan seemed to meet the butler’s approval. He would nod, and Schue would grin in his melty way before diligently moving on to the next one. Melody had judged this book by his cover.

A fierce sense of familiarity suddenly assailed her, as if she’d seen this particular cover in a very different library.

Why do I get the feeling Schue looks like somebody I know?

“Good lord!” Hubert groaned so loudly the glass barely muffled him. “I think it’s time for a break. Don’t you, Ryan?”

Perhaps she wouldn’t be waiting long after all. Ryan eyed his lord, but Hubert slumped on top of his desk. The butler sighed and stood. “Very well. I’ll prepare some tea.”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom!” Schue said.

“Excuse me, Lord Hubert,” said Dyrule. “I’ll just step out for some fresh air.”

“By all means,” the bailiff said. And so the three servants departed, leaving Hubert alone.

Now’s my chance! Melody had to take what she could get. She knocked on the window.

Hubert dragged himself out of his slouch with a grunt and turned toward the noise, head tilting in confusion. A bird? But the skies were clear. “Must be imagining things.”

Right. I have to undo the spell first.

“Trasparenza—release.”

Hubert all but tumbled out of his chair. Instead of blank sky, he found a winged maid outside his window. He might have shouted if Melody had not held her finger to her lips and gestured for silence. Regardless, he had to clap his hands over his mouth.

Melody pointed to the window. Once Hubert opened it, she glided inside to land gently on the floor, whereupon her stark white wings dissipated in a shower of light. “Deepest apologies for the intrusion, my lord.” She offered Hubert a curtsy.

“That bothers me about a tenth as much as you appearing out of thin air,” Hubert said. “My heart nearly gave out, girl.” Still, he did his best to grin.

Melody smiled diffidently. “I do apologize. It was crucial that I go unseen.”

Only Hubert knew the truth of her magic, and though she didn’t doubt the rest of his retinue could keep her confidence, Melody thought it best not to tempt fate, given the extent of her power and potential consequences of discovery. All of which was to say, scaring the daylights out of the county bailiff was for the greater good.

I can forgive that smile, Hubert thought. Just like Selena’s. Er…

He shook his head, dismissing the stray fantasy. At times, the maid reminded him of his unrequited love, and at times this troubled him greatly. Hubert endeavored to maintain a professional attitude and relationship toward the girl, who was the same age as his niece.

Melody, masterfully maintaining a professional attitude and relationship with her lady’s uncle, simply cocked her head. “Lord Hubert?”

“It’s nothing. We have little time. What brings you here?”

“A matter that requires your input. I’m afraid it will take longer to explain than we can afford right now. Might I trouble you to accompany me back to the capital estate for a spell?”

“I see. Well, how about you come and fetch me after dinner, when I’ve retired to my room for the night?”

“As you wish. I’ll return then.”

“Yes, that will do.”

Melody relaxed, relieved at the ease with which she’d accomplished her goal. Naturally, that was when footsteps approached.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “Until this evening. Trasparenza.”

The maid vanished, and Hubert was alone again. The window panes, standing ajar like a pair of double doors, rattled, and a sudden breeze caressed his cheek.

“Well,” the lord rumbled, looking to the sky, “what is it this time?”

Chapter 5:
The Third Rudleberg Emergency Family Meeting

NIGHT SETTLED IN. MELODY HAD BROUGHT Serena to the dorm room via Ovunque Porta to care for Luciana. Of course, this arrangement required much argument with the lady, who insisted the situation demanded her involvement. Melody countered this by pointing out the pressing nature of Luciana’s ongoing exams. This problem was exclusively hers, not her lady’s. Luciana pushed, of course, and Melody very nearly gave in, but the moment Melody implied another crash course to make up for lost time, Luciana abandoned her resistance. And quite readily, at that. Even some time later, Melody wondered what had rendered her lady so meek and ecclesiastic.

“Our lady is in your hands,” Melody told Serena.

“I will see her needs met.”

“My lady, I’ll return shortly.”

“Tell my uncle I said hello,” Luciana said.

Melody passed unceremoniously through the magically conjured door and came again to the road she had visited that afternoon. After casting the same transparency and flight spells on herself, she took off toward Hubert’s room on the second floor of the estate.

The window stood open for Melody, moonlight pouring in. Hubert watched the sky outside, and though he couldn’t possibly have seen her, Melody felt him greet her. Somehow, this left her tickled.

She glided inside, and the panes rattled.

“Melody?”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, my lord.”

Hubert’s breath caught in his throat as Melody revealed herself. A girl bathed in moonlight, appearing before him from nothing, made for quite the sight.

“I’ve come to fetch you. Is something wrong?” Melody asked.

“O-oh, no. I’ve informed everybody that I’m retiring early tonight.”

“Excellent. Then let’s be off. Humble welcomes—Benvenuti Porta.”

A pair of lavish, silver-ornamented double doors sprang out of nothing. The portal was smaller this time, on account of the restricted space.

“It never ceases to amaze,” Hubert breathed.

“You flatter me, my lord. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

And so they entered and arrived at the Rudleberg capital estate.

“I now call to session the third Rudleberg Emergency Family Meeting.” Hughes stood before his audience in the dining hall.

Marianna immediately raised a question. “The third? Darling, when did we hold the second?”

“When Melody decided to enroll in the academy as Cecilia.”

“Ah. I suppose that does count, doesn’t it? Certainly if we’re counting the matter of her giving Cecilia up.”

“I am ashamed to be the subject of every one of these meetings,” Melody said.

“Now, now, we aren’t here to cast blame,” Hughes said. “Let’s focus on how to resolve the problems at hand.” He took a seat at the head of the table and assessed all those gathered before him. Everyone was present except Serena and Luciana. Even Lect and Paula joined them.

“I wouldn’t mind being enlightened as to the reason for my attendance,” Hubert said.

“Yes, well…” Melody proceeded to explain the broad strokes of the situation. Hubert listened attentively, swallowing the many questions he surely had.

“Hrm,” he grunted. “This does complicate things.”

“My apologies, my lord.”

“I echo my brother’s sentiments. There’s nothing to apologize for. What’s important is ensuring Lord Leginbarth doesn’t learn the truth of Cecilia’s illness, correct?”

“Indeed. His Lordship could send somebody at any time to see her—er, me, I mean.”

“So what we need is a way to keep the wool over his eyes. Sir Froude, how seriously do you regard these concerns? Is this something your lord would do?”

“For any other individual, no,” the knight said with some difficulty.

“Meaning it’s entirely possible for Cecilia.”

“I believe, based on the fact that he has taken time out of his busy day for her on numerous occasions, it is all but certain he’ll continue to reach out.”

Hubert exhaled. “Lord Leginbarth is no younger than my brother, correct? He is every bit a grown man, so what about this girl who’s only just come of age is he so infatuated with? Should we be concerned about your lord?”

“No, my lord! You misunderstand.”

“Then what—”

“Let us focus on the matter at hand, Hubert,” Hughes interjected. “Lord Leginbarth’s inner machinations aren’t the topic of this meeting.”

The young bailiff was seeing red. To him, this certainly sounded like a powerful man taking questionable interest in a young girl who reminded him of the woman he’d once loved. Needless to say, this perturbed him. Melody’s resemblance to Selena only fueled the fire and made it more difficult for him to accept Lect’s assurances to the contrary.

“But, Brother—”

“How are we to judge a man who isn’t here to speak for himself? Maintaining the illusion of Cecilia’s existence is what matters at present.”

This, Hubert had to concede. Accusations that excluded the accused were but words. Empty conjecture. Inconducive to productive conversation. What was more, he himself felt things toward Melody that he knew were not romantic, but, rather, ghosts, the vestiges of what he had felt for the woman she so reminded him of. He knew what he felt was far more nuanced than what others might perceive, but could he really blame others for jumping to conclusions?

He sighed, resigned. “Very well. Returning to Cecilia’s circumstances, it follows logically that she should stay with me, at the estate, but I understand fabricating a perfect copy is an impossibility?”

“I do know a spell that could accomplish this in the short term,” Melody said. “But the copy would vanish every night when I went to sleep. Master Ryan and the others would learn the truth eventually.”

“That they would. Ryan and Lullia both rise earlier than even you, as you might recall, and they’re far too attentive to neglect a sick girl in their care. I imagine they would check on her every morning, but all they’d find would be…”

“An empty bed.”

“And then we’d have a misguided manhunt on our hands.”

Melody sighed. Hubert shrugged. Hughes crossed his arms and grumbled. Marianna rested her cheek on her hand. Everybody else made similar displays of pensiveness.

“The obvious solution would be to dress Melody up again and simply keep her with us,” Hubert said.

“But that defeats the whole purpose of the lie,” Micah pointed out.

Everyone nodded. Melody shrank down into her shoulders.

After another beat of silence, Hubert suddenly shot up.

“Have an idea?” Hughes asked.

“Perhaps. I was simply considering that it might be best if Cecilia never came to the county to begin with.”

“How do you mean?”

Confusion rippled through the room. Cecilia had left with a very specific destination in mind. How would her failing to arrive benefit them?

“Were Melody to stay at our estate as Cecilia, we could simply introduce her to others. But if she didn’t, then I think it would behoove us to avoid publicizing her presence in any way.” The Rudlebergs’ demesne was not a large one, consisting of just three villages all equidistant from the estate, each only a few hours’ journey away. “Regardless of whether she is physically present or not, if it becomes widely known that the count’s family has taken a girl in, she’ll quickly become the center of attention.”

“The smaller the community, the faster word travels,” Paula agreed quietly.

This world lacked the luxuries of modern technology. News traveled with difficulty and mostly by word of mouth. Leave it to the chattering of local wives to ensure anything and everything worth knowing spread far and wide. Naturally, the Rudleberg estate, being the heart of the county, maintained constant contact with the villages, all but ensuring Cecilia’s existence would not remain a secret for long.

“Our servants are plenty trustworthy,” Hubert went on, “but I can’t guarantee they’ll be so tight-lipped with their fellow villagers. They haven’t received the strict training or education most individuals serving a noble house would have.”

“It was never necessary,” Hughes said, crossing his arms and frowning.

Micah’s hand shot up. “Why is people knowing about Cecilia a problem?”

“Because where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Hubert said. “People will want to put a face to the name, and that could spell trouble.”

“But no one came to see us when we were visiting.”

“Because you saw them with Luciana. That spared you the mob. Even if they don’t invite themselves to the estate, their talking will pique the retinue’s interest, which, as I said, would only introduce themselves if Melody stayed permanently. Unless we made use of a copy, but that simply causes a different problem.”

“Right, the vanishing. We would risk outing Miss Melody’s magic.”

“That leaves us with only one possible recourse. If we’re to safeguard Melody’s secret, at least from the common folk, Cecilia must not come into the care of the estate.”

“But if she doesn’t, that would cause suspicion for His Lordship,” Lect said, already anticipating the hell the count would raise.

Hubert nodded. “Melody, is there anyone other than His Lordship whom you might expect would want to pay Cecilia a visit?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied. “She was only enrolled for a little more than a week. I got along well enough with my classmates but only to a cordial degree. I certainly can’t imagine any of them taking it upon themselves to travel all that way just for an acquaintance. If any were concerned enough, I should think they would go to Lady Luciana with their questions.”

It was a sad but true fact that Melody had not spent long enough at the academy to forge any real relationships. Luna, Perriand, and any of the acquaintances she’d made through Luciana would logically bring all their curiosities to Luciana herself, leaving Carol as the only real friend Melody had made on her own. Even she would, in all likelihood, go to Luciana before traveling to a part of the kingdom where she’d be a stranger. If she didn’t already know Cecilia’s true identity, that was.

Hubert nodded again, more confidently this time. “So the only person we need to convince is Lord Leginbarth.”

“I don’t follow.” Melody’s head fell to one side.

“The count is the only person in the capital who would try to reach out to Cecilia in her absence. In which case, we need only make it so he doesn’t have to do that, by sending periodic letters regarding her health, for example.”

“Well, that’s a simple solution.” Marianna grinned. “Melody can do that herself easily enough.”

“It is a dishonest solution,” Melody lamented.

Hubert shrugged. “The consequences of our actions. I’m afraid you’ll have to bear these on your own.”

“Of course,” the maid sighed.

The Rudlebergs owed much and more to her, not least of all because of everything she’d done for Luciana. But as much as they wanted to repay their gratitude with interest, they had to treat her as an individual, one who could take responsibility for herself.

“Sir Froude,” said Hughes. “What say you to my brother’s proposal?”

Lect rubbed his chin as he thought. “It’s a good suggestion. His Lordship leads a busy life as the vice-chancellor, so if Cecilia is willing to sate him with steady correspondence, I think it would stay his hand.”

Hughes nodded with finality. “Then the carriage will ‘arrive’ at the county tomorrow without Cecilia, Melody will henceforth send regular letters to His Lordship under her name, and we will take no further action. Are we in agreement?” He looked specifically to Melody.

She sighed again. “Yes, Your Lordship.”

“If you’ve any questions about what to write, by all means, ask,” said Marianna.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

Marianna grinned, but her expression soon withered with exhaustion. “And this is why we don’t tell lies. Pretending to be someone you aren’t is more trouble than it’s worth.”

All at once, Melody, Micah, Lect, and Paula dropped their gazes. Miss Celesty McMarden had been using a fake name for months. Micah was a Japanese girl who knew Melody was the Saint. Lect and Paula, meanwhile, were directly responsible for Cecilia’s existence. Quite the gradient of guilt shaded their faces.

And then there was Rook, the amnesiac. He had not spoken a word all meeting, but he did wonder why the four cast their eyes downward all of a sudden.

Hughes looked around at the otherwise relieved expressions on the attendees’ faces. “I suppose we can adjourn if there are no other matters to consider.”

“I have something!” Micah’s hand shot up yet again. Her eyes were fixed on Hubert.

“Erm, can I help you?” Hubert asked.

“Yes! You can travel to the capital alone, can’t you? Can’t you?!” Micah was halfway to climbing on top of the table. The question did not sound like a question as much as a demand.

Hubert awkwardly ruffled his hair. “I, um, don’t suppose that’s possible. Given recent events, Dyrule’s set on joining, and Ryan insists on sending Schue to attend to me.”

“Oh,” Micah moaned. “Okay.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not exactly,” Melody answered for the girl. She explained that if he traveled alone, she could simply transport the party back home, sparing them the strenuous, five-day journey from the county.

“I see,” Hubert rumbled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make your peace with that.”

“Incidentally, do you think it’s a good idea to tell Dyrule and Schue about my magic?”

“I trust the both of them, but the fewer people know, the fewer lips can flap. It would be best to be conservative about the truth for now.”

“I thought so as well.” Melody didn’t mistrust the men, but she knew the more desperate a secret was, the hotter it burned on people’s tongues.

I tried, Micah, she silently apologized.

Rook dropped his hand onto the deflated girl’s tiny head. “I can’t travel the realm in an instant, but I can prepare warm baths,” he consoled her. “It’s only five days.”

Micah whined like a sad dog. “Thanks…”

For a world largely based on Middle Ages Europe, constant access to a bath while on the road was already an incredible luxury. In this, as well as the fact that Rook of all people had offered words of support, Micah took solace.

“And that, my lady, is the summary of events.”

“Leave it to Uncle to come up with a solution. I’m not surprised it wasn’t Father.”

“My lady, your father works very hard at the Chancery. That’s a terribly rude thing to say.”

Melody, after escorting Hubert back to the county, had returned to her lady’s dorm. Serena returned to the capital estate.

“Still, it’s an awfully underwhelming resolution after how chaotic things got,” Luciana said.

“We couldn’t see the situation clearly,” Melody said. “Seeking out Lord Hubert was indeed the correct decision. Now, more importantly, how are your studies coming along?”

“Good. So good that I won’t be needing another crash course!”

“You’re certain? I actually came up with a new strategy you may find more effective than nightly reviews.”

“Thanks, but I’m okay! I want to prove I can do this on my own!”

“My lady,” Melody breathed in admiration. “Very well. Do your best!”

“You can count on it!”

Luciana burned with resolve. This was a battle she could not afford to lose. If I mess any of these exams up, who knows what kind of torture Melody will cook up next? I can do this, or my name isn’t Luciana Rudleberg!

The stars bore witness to her resolve with godly solemnity, for they did not know what “exams” were. Luciana might have been a great hero about to battle evil itself, for all they knew.

Chapter 6:
Micah Makes Tracks, and More Midterms

“HUMBLE WELCOMES—BENVENUTI PORTA.”

A pair of lavish double doors appeared before the Rudleberg estate. They opened on their own, revealing a lonesome road leading to it.

Melody nodded, satisfied, then turned to face the others. “Everything is ready, Your Ladyship.”

“Thank you, Melody. Impressive as always.” Countess Marianna admired the surreal spectacle before her. “Now then, are your own preparations complete, Sir Froude?”

“Yes, my lady,” the knight replied from atop his steed. “Ready to depart.”

A girl poked her head out of the window of the carriage beside him. “Same here, Your Ladyship.”

“Ready,” Rook said from the box.

On October 2nd, the morning of the second day of exams at Royal Academy, Marianna, Serena, and Paula gathered to see off Micah, Rook, and Lect. They would soon depart for the county via Melody’s handy gateway.

“Keep a close eye on those two,” the maid said to the knight.

“They and Lord Hubert will return unharmed. You have my word.”

“Micah, do try to hang in there.”

“Everything’ll be just fine,” Micah replied confidently. “Rook here will take care of anything that isn’t.”

“Within reason,” the valet clarified.

“Best of luck to you,” Melody said.

“Right.”

With that, the party rolled and trotted through the door and into the County of Rudleberg. When the gateway vanished behind them, it was as if they’d never been there at all.

“It’s going to be awfully quiet,” Serena said.

“It’s a five-day trip back, but it’s going to take a little longer than that, isn’t it?” Paula asked.

“Lord Hubert said as much last night,” Melody answered.

Micah and the men couldn’t simply turn back the moment they arrived. Since they’d supposedly just traveled five days to reach him, they had to rest for at least two, and they couldn’t leave until Hubert was free enough from his duties as bailiff to make the trip.

“I expect we won’t see them for another week at the soonest,” Marianna said. “But until then, we’d best make sure they have a proper home to return to, oughtn’t we?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship,” the maids replied in unison and with curtsies.

The countess was admiring their form when a loud bang came from the estate. She clutched her chest. “Goodness, what was that?”

“It sounded like it came from the kitchen,” Paula said.

“A fallen dish?”

“That can’t be. But come to think of it, we did leave a plate of bread out.”

“Grail!” the maids blurted.

“Pilfering again, the little thief!” Paula said.

“I’ve been feeding him more. Is it still not enough?” Serena said.

The pair sped off toward the noise. Marianna calmed her quickened heart, while Melody simply smiled.

Sometime later, at Royal Academy, another day of exams was drawing to a close.

“Pens down.”

Today had been geographical studies and historical studies, with the latter just now finishing. Regus Bauenveil, proctor and head instructor for Class A, compelled his students to obey his command with his trademark icy gaze. Only after he had retrieved every answer sheet and left the room did peace return.

“It’s over,” Luciana groaned, slouching forward onto her desk.

Her seat neighbor and friend, Luna Invidia, giggled. “That’s not very ladylike.”

“You wouldn’t get it. I’m terrible at geography. Not like you.”

“I like having at least one subject I know I can beat you at.”

“Yeah, well gloat while you can! I’ve got you this time! I studied super hard!”

“I’ll believe that when you can say it sitting up.” It was rather hard to take Luciana seriously with her cheek smooshed against the wood, no matter how hard she glared.

“How do you do, ladies?” someone called out.

The slovenly one went straight as a board at once. “Your Highness!”

Luna followed suit.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony,” Ciestine said.

“’T-tis no trouble.” Luciana issued the fanciest chortle she could muster. “Er, can we help you?”

“Yes, well, maybe,” the princess said before falling silent.

Luciana, what is this about? Luna asked with her eyes.

That’s what I want to know, Luciana replied telepathically.

Finally recovering from her mysterious malady, Ciestine continued. “I hear Madam Cecilia has moved to your house’s demesne so she can recover.”

“Cecilia?”

“It was rather sudden and, well, we’re classmates and enrolled together. I was shocked to hear what befell her, so I was wondering if you might not tell me how she’s faring.”

“I-I see. I’m not sure how well she’s recovered, but she ought to have arrived at the county today. I’ll know more when my servant returns, I think.”

“Not that it’s particularly weighing on my mind!” The princess forced a laugh.

You don’t say that if you don’t care! Panic struck Luciana like a fist to the gut. First Cloud, now this. I doubt the princess of a foreign country can travel as she pleases, but we might want to brainstorm a contingency plan. Where is this coming from anyway? Then she remembered. When Cecilia had first (literally) fallen ill, it happened in front of the princess as they prepared to take a dance lesson together. I suppose seeing your dance partner faint and then never seeing her again would be cause for concern.

Indeed, it had stirred up quite the commotion at the time. Perhaps Ciestine felt responsible for the situation.

“I’ll be sure to pass along anything I hear,” Luciana reassured her.

“I… You really needn’t trouble yourself over it, but thank you.” A slight blush rose in her cheeks, even as relief relaxed her features.

I’m still curious, Luciana thought. Should I just ask?

“If you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness,” Luna said with perfect timing, “why the interest?”

Ciestine flinched, her blush deepening. “Because…we have unfinished business. Our score remains unsettled, so I find her disappearance distasteful.”

“Unfinished business?” Luciana said. “Oh, the tests on the first day of the semester?”

Ciestine nodded sheepishly.

“Cecilia did surprise us all with a perfect score, didn’t she?” Luna asked.

“To put it lightly,” Ciestine said. “I had intended to use midterms as a means of retaliation.” But it would never come to pass. Before the princess could have her revenge, Cecilia vanished. It left a bitter taste in her mouth and a hollowness in her gut.

“You’re still aiming for the top spot regardless, I’m sure.”

“Naturally. Everything I do reflects on my homeland. Prince Christopher will have stiff competition, I assure you,” Ciestine declared before returning to her seat.

I think she and His Highness tied last time, Luciana thought, glancing Christopher’s way. The prince was chatting with Anna-Marie rather nonchalantly, perhaps the most audacious show of confidence he could have made during exam week.

“I take it His Highness cares less for rankings than the princess,” Luna said.

Luciana nodded. “There’s certainly a misalignment of priorities between the two. I feel a little bad for Her Highness, being so competitive without a proper rival.”

“There are individuals I feel worse for.”

“Hm?” Luciana followed Luna’s eyes to the despondent husk of a girl across the room. “Oh. Um. Poor Lady Celedia.”

“Is everything all right, do you think?” Luna asked.

“One can only assume the exams have taken their toll. She struggled during the last tests too. It’s hard to blame her, really.”

Celedia had lived most of her life as a commoner before House Leginbarth took her in, and she’d only been there a few weeks. Her attendance at the Summer Ball was a swiftly cobbled-together miracle. So it was no wonder she couldn’t keep up with Royal Academy’s curriculum, especially after having missed the entire first semester.

One had to wonder how the poor girl was taking it.

Damn these humans and their obsession with nonsensical miscellany! Why should I care what they call a particular heap of soil, or what a dead man’s name was?! Damn mortals and damn education! Tindalos was quick to drop its ladylike facade when faced with adversity. The Dark One had met its match in books. Leah’s memories tell me that the higher my grades, the easier it will be to complete a conquest, but how is one to accomplish such a feat?! There must be a way…

All was well in Class A, the heart of Ciestine van Rordpier’s kingdom-toppling conspiracy and den of the diabolical Tindalos. Ironically enough.

“How beautiful the world is, now that I can bask in its vastness. For I…am free!”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, my lady, there’s no need to be dramatic. I still haven’t a clue where you pick up these turns of phrase.”

On October 3rd, the gauntlet of exams finally ended. Free from their oppressive reign—at least until the grades came out—Luciana stood in her room with arms stretched to the heavens.

“It was suffocating, Melody! Everywhere I went, across the whole academy, it was like winter had come early! You’d understand if Cecilia were there to feel what I felt!”

“I understand well enough. I simply think theatrics are best kept on the stage.”

“Oh, stop taking everything so seriously! You’re making me look silly!” Luciana covered her face, failing to hide the blush that spread up to her ears. Self-awareness was a burden, indeed.

“Rest assured, my lady, that when I report your performance to your mother, she and I will both rejoice.”

“You will not!” the lady shrieked. “You won’t speak a single word of this to her, Melody! That’s an order!”

The maid only giggled. “Let’s be off. Humble welcomes—Benvenuti Porta.” A pair of doors appeared in the living room. Tomorrow wasn’t a school day, so they would be returning to the estate. Normally they’d do so by carriage, but presently that carriage was at the county with Micah and the boys. “Rest well, my lady. You’ve earned it.”

“I sure will! It’s good to be home!”

Melody quietly followed her lady as she gleefully bounced through the door.

Luciana’s short vacation ended as quickly as it began. By October 5th, she and Melody were back at the Royal Academy dormitory.

“Preparations for the Festival Ball are about to ramp up, so I may be home late from now on.”

“Understood. Let me know when you learn more, my lady.”

“Will do. Anyway, I’m off!”

“Have a good day.”

Luciana headed out of her room and down the hallway. Not long after, Luna exited the dorm beside hers.

“Good morning,” Luciana said. “Want to walk together?”

“Good morning. I’d love to.”

They chitchatted as they strolled, a common enough activity between friends.

“Now that I think about it, isn’t this our first time going to school together? Funny, when our rooms are right next to each other,” Luciana said.

“Yes, it is.”

“How does that happen?”

“I imagine it happens very easily when one of you is a chronic oversleeper,” Luna said.

“Hey, I’ve never been late!”

“True, but you do only show up moments before homeroom begins. I can speak with authority, seeing as I’m always there first.”

“Okay, fair enough, but I got up early today, didn’t I? Please, hold your applause.”

“I’m afraid I overslept this time. I was tossing and turning last night.”

“Drat. What was keeping you up? Is everything okay?”

“Our grades are being posted today. Did you forget? Honestly, if you were half as cognizant as you are pretty. You make me seem a fool for being so worried.”

“I can be cognizant! I worry about things!”

“How did you sleep last night?”

“Like a baby!” Luciana flicked a shimmering lock of golden hair over her shoulder.

Luna covered her laughter. “I never get tired of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

And so they continued to walk, talking as they did.

As in the first semester, their professor posted midterm rankings publicly for all to see.

“I’m…ah, ninth,” said Luna. “Top ten isn’t so bad. Now where are you? Of course. You win again.”

“And I still don’t really understand how. But forget me for a second.”

Their eyes went to the top of the rankings.

First place: Ciestine van Rordpier at 688 points. Second place: Christopher von Theolas at 686. Third: Anna-Marie Victillium, 657. Fourth: Luciana Rudleberg, 642. Fifth: Olivia Rincot’dor, 639. Incidentally, Luna had scored 601 points, securing her a spot at ninth.

“Prince Christopher lost to Princess Ciestine,” one student said in awe.

“I can’t believe His Highness is in second place,” said another.

“Wasn’t he second place last time?” someone asked.

“That was because the Angel did the impossible.”

Opinions abounded. Everybody had something to say about the crown prince losing the top spot to the foreign princess. It wasn’t the prince’s first time taking second place, but there’d been extenuating circumstances before. He and Ciestine had tied then, and in any case, first place might as well have been unobtainable back then. That perfect score still lingered on everyone’s minds.

Thankfully, the gossip didn’t take a darker turn, likely due, in part, to the royal rivals’ decorum.

“Congratulations, Princess Ciestine,” the prince said.

“Thank you, Your Highness, but it was only a difference of two points that defined my victory.”

“Which is why you shan’t best me for long.”

Ciestine chuckled. “I welcome the challenge.”

As far as Luciana and Luna could see, the prince and princess maintained a respectful cordiality. It instilled a sense of pride in His Highness’s classmates. Even in the face of defeat, their prince held his head high, eyes firmly forward, looking toward the future. Luciana and Luna found their seats, glad to dodge the drama, but one among their classmates didn’t share their relief.

Tentative concern tightened Anna-Marie’s expression.

Chapter 7:
The Festival Ball Committee

CLASSES PROCEEDED AS NORMAL. THE ONLY real difference between this day and any other was that, moving forward, students would start taking their respective electives. Any individual could put up to two per day in their schedule, meaning the theoretical maximum number of subjects one could take per week (excluding days off) was twelve. The theoretical minimum was, of course, zero. They were electives, after all. But the academy had yet to accept anyone with such a bold lack of initiative.

Typically, students headed straight home following their afternoon electives, but that was the other special thing about today. From now until the Festival Ball, students would hold special meetings in preparation for the big event.

“Homeroom begins now,” Regus Bauenveil announced solemnly. “As I expect you are all aware, the Festival Ball approaches, and as such you will henceforth dedicate several hours each evening to planning and preparation. This may consist of meetings, such as this one, and it may consist of physical labor. Indeed, you’ve only just begun your chosen electives, but do not let that distract you.”

The students listened attentively. They knew what to expect well in advance, but in practice, they had to adapt to new lessons, a festival, and a ball all at once.

This crap seriously makes no sense. What kind of academy has a curriculum like this? How’d the game justify this? Outwardly, Prince Christopher was the picture of regal poise. Inwardly, he was more than a little befuddled. A whole semester dedicated to trialing electives? And then we have a whole extra month in the second semester, and only then can we officially enroll. Suspension of disbelief only works in video games. Bit hard to hand-wave this nonsense when it’s staring you in the face.

Christopher’s old life in Japan sat heavily on his heart. For someone like Maxwell, or any of his classmates who knew nothing but this world, it was simply the way things were.

Anna really uses the whole otome genre as a crutch sometimes, the prince thought. Granted, it never hit me how stupid it all was until I became a student.

He knew there was a game called The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths. He knew this new world he inhabited appeared an awful lot like that game. And he knew several disparate things about that game, but only through osmosis because his childhood friend in his past life, Asakura Anna, and his little sister, Kurita Maika, had been obsessed with it. That wasn’t much to go off of. Anytime something important was about to happen, he relied on Anna-Marie to lead the charge.

I don’t know how we’re still hanging in here, but we’re definitely on the back foot now, and all because we can’t find that stinkin’ heroine, he agonized. Where even is she? I triggered the event where we meet, but all we got was some maid, so what gives? Whoever you are, you’re really putting me in a tough spot.

The glances Anna-Marie shot him all day had not gone unnoticed. She was antsy and restless, and he knew exactly why. There wasn’t much he could do about it, but neither could he admonish her for worrying. He was the crown prince. No matter what lay before him, he had to remain regal and composed.

His Highness stifled a sigh. I hope I get to do something fun at this Festival Ball. That’s what school festivals are supposed to be, aren’t they? Fun?

Regus’s monologue continued, heedless of the prince’s inner turmoil. “The event will take place in two parts, a matinee and a soiree. Daytime matinee hours will consist of special presentations or activities devised by each class. The ball will take place that evening, and all students will attend.”

In all of its endeavors, Royal Academy strove to cultivate its students. So it was for the Festival Ball as well. The primary aim was to enrich the youth during the day with experiences they themselves had created, then at night strengthen the bonds of noble and commoner alike. All in service of refining the realm’s next generation of leaders.

“Your first order of business is to decide what sort of event you intend to host during the matinee. Each class will receive a budget—the same budget—and it is your responsibility to allocate the money appropriately, decide on a venue, assign roles, procure supplies, devise schedules, et cetera. There is much to be done, and you have the remainder of the month to accomplish it.”

“But Instructor, that’s only a few weeks,” one student protested. Perhaps if they’d had the entire month it might not have seemed so impossible, but many doubted they could pull this off in the two or three hours of free time they had each day.

“You’re right to be concerned,” Regus replied. “But overcoming adversity is one of the central pillars of the Festival Ball. With enough time and money, any of you could doubtless create great things. What can you do without such luxuries? That is the question we want to answer. You must devise a way to impress or satisfy even with restrictions. Know that you, my lords, ladies, and highnesses, face particular pressure to succeed. Can you overcome your differences and achieve greatness together? We shall see.”

Several people gulped. The class included several commoners. That came with differences in values, both monetary and otherwise. Differences they’d have to reconcile.

Regus’s crooked smirk struck fear into the hearts of his pupils. “You needn’t fret. Generations of your predecessors have paved the way for you. When you’ve finalized your proposal, I will verify and approve it. Until then, let your minds run wild.”

The class boomed with a chorus of “Yes, Instructor,” born mostly out of fear under their teacher’s intimidating gaze.

Regus nodded his approval. “Before you start brainstorming, there remains the matter of the committee. You’ll need to elect two among you to take on dual leadership roles.” The Festival Ball Committee was an ad hoc organization consisting of students who worked together with the student council to oversee and facilitate the event. Traditionally, each class chose one man and one woman to act as representatives. “Self-nominations are encouraged, but be aware that members of the student council are barred from nomination.”

This was a message to two people in particular: Christopher and Anna-Marie.

“You should do it, Luciana,” Luna urged quietly. “You could work with Lord Maxwell.”

“Wh-what does that matter? Are you crazy? You do it.”

“Oh, no. I could never tear apart the couple who attended not one but two balls together.”

“We’re not a couple!” Luciana hissed.

Luna giggled. “Perhaps not yet.”

Luciana couldn’t tell if she was serious or just looking to tease her.

“So,” Regus said, “would anyone like to step forward?”

“Yes, Instructor,” two voices declared at once. Not Luciana and Luna, but Ciestine and Celedia. They shot a look at each other.

“Very well. Any others?” Regus waited. “Then we have our representatives: Princess Ciestine and Lady Leginbarth. You’ve officially joined the Festival Ball Committee. Step forward and say a few words, would you?”

Ciestine rose and strode to the podium. Celedia clumsily followed.

“I haven’t been with you long,” the princess began. “If I’ve yet to make your acquaintance, my name is Ciestine. Indeed, there are many names and faces I’ve yet to learn in these three short weeks, but I hope I might rectify that through this opportunity. To that end, I promise to do my utmost.”

“My name is Celedia Leginbarth,” her partner said. “I echo Her Highness’s sentiments and would love nothing more than to get to know each and every one of you. I promise to ensure this year’s Festival Ball is a memorable one.”

Christopher and Anna-Marie led the class in a round of applause and helped quell any lingering misgivings.

“Moving forward, the two of you will guide us during homeroom,” Regus said. “One of you should be speaker while the other takes on a clerical role. Aim to settle on an idea before the day is out, or come up with a few options at the very least.”

“That is the first step, isn’t it?” said Ciestine. “Lady Celedia, if I speak, could I trouble you to take notes?”

“Of course,” Celedia said.

Regus retreated, ceding the floor to Ciestine. Celedia took up a position by the blackboard, chalk in hand, ready to scribble.

“Thank you, Instructor Bauenveil,” the princess said. “Now, I believe we have a matinee to plan. Do we have any ideas?”

Evidently, they did not. Some hunched in an attempt to hide themselves. Others whispered to each other. Some simply stared, not a single thought lighting their eyes. Reactions were varied.

Yikes. Feels like I’m back in high school during a cultural festival. Everyone wants the idea to be new and exciting, but nobody wants to be the one to come up with it and have extra responsibility. Anna-Marie was transported back to her old high school class, where that had indeed been the case. She rested her cheek against her hand, appearing deep in thought.

Ciestine turned to Regus. “How were projects decided in the past, Instructor?”

“The most motivated classes would have been deep in debate by now,” he confessed.

“I see. Then we’ve a timid bunch on our hands.”

That’s to be expected, the instructor thought.

First-Year Class A, home to the crown prince, was always a gathering of giants, a place where the gap between low and highborn was felt more keenly than anywhere else in the academy. Nobles struggled to work under a budget. Commonfolk struggled to conceptualize anything that would satisfy their high-minded classmates. The result was a stalemate. The presence of royalty, as well as the daughter of a duke, didn’t make things any easier.

Anna-Marie searched her gamer mind, pitying the plight of Ciestine up on the podium. There were three options for this in the game, but…honestly I don’t want to do any of them.

The first potential project was an exhibition of sorts. Unfortunately, the lack of visual aids made the actual contents of the exhibition a bit of a mystery. As far as festival events went, it was the least impressive but afforded the heroine the most freedom, allowing for more time with the love interests.

The second was a play, borrowing an on-campus auditorium. The player could become either an actor or a stagehand, which would affect the overall performance of the event. Becoming an actor, then subsequently starring in a lead role, would earn the player a special cutscene with its own unique illustration. It was the most popular option among the fan base.

Option number three was a marketplace selling the girls’ handmade crafts. For this project, the boys would handle the majority of the logistics and actual hawking of the merchandise, but ladies were good for business. Consequently, the heroine would be stuck making handkerchiefs and potpourri before the festival, then trapped helping run things on the day itself, siphoning off the majority of her free time. In exchange, the player could offer one of her items to a boy of her choice for a hefty affection boost.

They’ve all got their advantages and disadvantages, but I won’t be caught dead doing a boring exhibition, Anna-Marie thought. A play is a lot of work, though, and doubly so for the girls if we do a marketplace. I ought to suggest something, though… If she merely wanted to avoid potential conflict, the exhibition was the smartest choice. It offered the greatest freedom, which would be a load off her mind, but she couldn’t propose it if she didn’t have something to exhibit. And even if I could, do I really want to waste the festival on a cop-out?

So long as this world was, in fact, The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, the Dark One loomed over everything, and Anna-Marie knew dealing with that threat was of vital importance. But she was far too human to sacrifice every joy in her life to that end. And she was far too adolescent to not crave memories wherever she could make them.

Suddenly, Ciestine’s lips curled. “Very well. Let’s hold an anonymous vote.”

“An anonymous vote?” Celedia said.

“Perhaps ‘vote’ is a misnomer,” Ciestine said. “But it seems to me everyone is too shy to speak their minds. Therefore, I suggest we submit our ideas on unsigned slips of paper.”

“I see. That way we can evaluate them all equally.”

“Instructor Bauenveil, would this be an acceptable course of action?”

“I can’t see why not,” Regus said. “Do as you wish.”

“Are we agreed?” Ciestine asked the class. Her fellows hummed and murmured for several seconds before reaching a consensus.

Regus, at Ciestine’s request, retrieved the scratch paper and box they’d used to draw lots when shuffling seats weeks prior. Each student got a paper. On it, they would scribble their proposals, which would then be folded up and collected once everybody had finished.

“I’d like you all to ignore budget and time constraints,” Ciestine said. “Let’s focus on narrowing down a number of ideas, no matter how outlandish.”

The newly elected committee members waited as their peers ruminated. In this endeavor, they were equal. Christopher, Anna-Marie, and even Luciana fell deep into thought.

One of the three, Anna-Marie thought. But which one?

Of course, not everyone was playing with the same deck. Anna-Marie’s preconceptions narrowed her perspective. Meanwhile, Christopher was drunk on the power of anonymity. The devil on his shoulder whispered things into his ear that a crown prince ought not consider, much less put to paper.

“Have we finished? Then we’ll begin collecting,” Ciestine announced. She carried the box between the desks, and her classmates placed their folded slips inside as she passed. “There we are. Thank you all for participating. Lady Celedia, if you would note down the proposals I read aloud.”

“Ready, Your Highness,” her co-representative said.

“Very good.”

Ciestine proceeded to do so, and the class divide quickly became evident. Some of the more obviously common ideas were modest games one might expect to see in a modern-day Japanese festival. Ring toss, ball games, things like that. In contrast, the more costly suggestions of a salon and tea party clearly came from the nobles.

“Quite the assortment,” Ciestine said. “What do we have here? A marketplace for handmade crafts? Interesting.”

Anna-Marie had come to her own conclusion. No one has suggested an exhibition or play yet. I suppose it would be silly if all anyone could come up with were those three things. Regardless, none of this is directly related to the Dark One, so anything’s fine by me. The matinee part of the Festival Ball was actually only a side event in the game, more consequential to the love interests than the main plot itself. The test results, on the other hand…

Anna-Marie eyed Christopher closely. He was dignified. Focused. As a crown prince ought to be. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but that in itself was cause for concern.

It’s probably fine, she told herself. But we should talk after the meeting.

“The final proposal,” Ciestine said. “A…maid café.” She cocked her head in confusion. “A ‘maid café’?”

Celedia did likewise. “‘Maid café’?”

As did Luciana and Luna. “‘Maid café’?”

And even Anna-Marie. “Maid…café?”

A quaint smile that betrayed her curiosity graced her lips. But her eyes, fixed squarely on Christopher, held something else entirely. The prince didn’t dare look back long enough to meet her gaze.

Anna-Marie seethed. He’ll be lucky if a talk is all he gets.

Chapter 8:
Class A Plans a Matinee

MAID CAFÉ. ONLY ONE OTHER PERSON IN the entire classroom knew the meaning of the phrase. Anna-Marie had gone to the trouble of making her suggestion in the least anachronistic way possible, something she couldn’t say about her formerly Japanese partner, one Kurita Hideki, playing the role of Prince Christopher.

I’m over here worrying my butt off while your mind is in the gutter?! When I get my hands on you! Anna-Marie did not need a name to know whom the proposal had come from. Christopher did well not to betray the raging regret swirling inside him in that moment.

“What exactly is a ‘maid café’?” Ciestine wondered aloud. “Lady Celedia, have you any inkling?”

“I’m afraid not, but if I were to hazard a guess, I would assume it to be a…café of or pertaining to maids. What exactly does that entail?”

“Confounding, isn’t it?”

Is it? the royal couple thought in unison. But it was, as evidenced by the remarks floating around the classroom.

“Is it a café exclusively for maids?” someone asked.

“As in, only maids are allowed to enter?” supposed another. “For what purpose? Maids have no inherent status.”

“Why would our class host something so absurd?”

“Whoever wrote that, what in the world were you thinking?”

I wasn’t, Christopher thought. What is wrong with me?

He wasn’t, Anna-Marie thought. What is wrong with him?

In a world where maids were commonplace, and the word referred to a very specific kind of profession, it was no wonder the concept of a maid café was lost on people. Christopher’s ship was sinking, and he lacked a crew.

“Perhaps it’s a café where maids serve the customers,” the prince proposed innocently.

“Ah, I see now,” Ciestine said. “A café with maids, but how is that different from a normal café? Why the odd name?”

“I suppose we would participate by dispatching our own maids to run things?” Celedia said.

“That’s hardly a form of participation,” Ciestine said.

“Excuse me.” Amid the chaotic culture shock, a single hand went up. It belonged to Luciana.

“The floor is yours,” Ciestine said.

“Thank you, Your Highness. Um, I just wanted to say that perhaps the proposal means to suggest that we, the students, are to be the maids in this café.”

Shock ran through the classroom, permeating noble and commoner alike and bridging the class divide in an instant.

“Nobility as well? That’s preposterous. Perhaps not for the scions of viscounts or barons, but all the same.” The protester looked to Christopher, Olivia, and Anna-Marie, the perfect lady. Luciana too. There were many among them who ill suited servitude, and if Luciana spoke true, then it meant a debasement of these vaunted personages, a prospect that went over rather poorly.

It nonetheless intrigued Ciestine, who rubbed her chin in thought. “What of the men, though?” she asked.

“They would take on the guise of butlers and such, no?” Luciana suggested.

“Hm. I suppose that would include me as well.”

The class lit up at once, led by a group of ecstatic women.

“Princess Ciestine in butlers’ garb?!”

“And His Highness too!”

“Just picture Lady Anna-Marie!”

“Or Lady Olivia!”

“Oh, to be waited on by Her Highness… Goodness, I’m blushing!”

“Prince Christopher reduced to a servant? B-but that’s scandalous!”

“My heart would give out before Lady Anna-Marie could finish pouring the tea.”

“I dream of having a maid as gentle and conscientious as Lady Celedia!”

Suddenly, the forbidden fruit seemed not so foul after all.

“Goodness me? A maid?” Olivia said. “I know only the bare minimum about serving tea.”

“Having Lady Olivia at one’s service would be more than a mere honor,” one classmate said. “It would be a privilege none could afford.”

“I haven’t the foggiest clue how to prepare a cup of tea,” Celedia said. “Your Highness?”

“That would pose no issue, I’m sure,” the princess said. “One could prepare and another could carry the cups to the tables.”

The discussion continued to spiral out of control. Instructor Regus Bauenveil, unable to watch any longer, sighed and clapped his hands, one great, thunderous crack that commanded instant silence. “It seems you have a front-runner. I see no reason not to indulge your clear and ardent interests. This ‘maid café’ of yours has my support.”

“Is it acceptable to you, Instructor?” Ciestine asked. “It seems to me, perhaps, a tad counterintuitive given the lessons the Festival Ball aims to instill, and indeed the culture of Royal Academy as a whole.”

Regus thought about that. “Perhaps one of you can argue against that notion then.”

No one did for a long while. Even the most enthusiastic supporters of the idea floundered until Christopher slowly raised his hand.

“Your Highness.”

“It would deepen our understanding of what it means to ‘serve.’”

Regus’s interest was piqued. “Continue.”

“For many of us, our station precludes ever serving at someone’s beck and call,” the prince said. “By taking on the role of maid, or manservant, we would foster a deeper understanding and appreciation of those who swear fealty to us. And indeed, it’s only during an occasion as special as a Festival Ball matinee that such an experience becomes possible.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” the instructor said. He glared a challenge at the prince. “What will your lowborn classmates gain from it though?”

Christopher grinned. “If upper nobility are to serve, then others could take on more practical roles. Running and organizing a café provides many learning opportunities, I should think.”

Ciestine’s eyes widened. “You mean a reversal of roles, placing one another in positions of power or servitude according to status, and thus furthering our understanding of the privileges and challenges of each other’s stations. This is a fine social experiment, no?”

Confidence deepened Christopher’s smile as his classmates murmured around him.

“I don’t know what fool came up with the idea, but leave it to His Highness to make the most out of any situation,” one said.

“Imagine the line we’ll have when it gets out that we’ll have a prince and a princess waiting tables,” whispered another. “Oh, I hope I can reserve a spot for myself.”

Regus grimaced at Ciestine as the hum of discussion swelled. The princess nodded and addressed the classroom once more. “I believe I hear a consensus. Are we agreed? Class A’s matinee will be a maid café?”

The class answered with applause. The decision was unanimous.

Ciestine nodded. “There we have it, Instructor.”

“Very good. You’ll elaborate on the specifics during tomorrow’s homeroom. Until then…”

“So that’s how we ended up doing a maid café.”

“I-I see.” Her lady’s report on the day’s happenings left Melody most confused.

I wasn’t aware this world had those, she thought. Because of the way she was, this didn’t strike her as suspicious or imply the existence of others like her in the slightest.

“So I take it preparations for the Festival Ball begin in earnest tomorrow,” the maid said.

“We’ll be deciding roles and putting together a timetable at the very least. We have to get everything in order by the end of the week.”

“Which leaves only three weeks to do the bulk of the work. Things are about to get busy. It won’t be easy, but I have every confidence that you’ll succeed, my lady.”

“About that. Actually, our instructor says each student is allowed to bring one attendant to act as an aide while we’re getting everything ready.”

“An aide?”

Royal Academy’s student body was primarily made up of nobility, a caste not well accustomed to physical labor. As such, the Festival Ball posed a unique challenge, but rather than throw their students to the wolves, the academy permitted outside help: one attendant from a student’s on-campus retinue.

“I’m to commute with you this month?” Melody asked.

“Only in the evenings, after electives. Commoners can bring a servant too, if they have one, or they can apply to have one assigned to them if they don’t.” Of course, none of this was relevant until after they’d finished deliberations and began working on the festival in earnest. “The instructor will give us the paperwork once everything is finalized,” Luciana said. “I’ll let you know once all that is settled.”

“Well, now I’m excited,” Melody said with a giggle. “Just thinking about what sorts of tasks I’ll get to do is making me antsy! Why, I could give a short lecture on proper tea-making techniques. Or how to curtsy! I would call it Melody’s Festival Ball Crash-Crash Course on How to Be a Maid!”

“That won’t be necessary!” Luciana said quickly. “Everybody already has a maid, so, um, that won’t be necessary.”

“That’s true. Shame.”

Luciana thanked her lucky stars that Melody let the matter drop. Normally it wasn’t that easy. Melody’s crash courses were already traumatic enough without unleashing her on her all-time favorite subject. It would have been the stuff of nightmares.

“Anyway, it’ll be fun! I’ll be counting on you.”

“Of course, my lady.”

A strange kind of joy struck Melody. She’d only just left the classroom behind, and now she had an opportunity to go back. And this time, I’ll be of far more use to my lady!

Cecilia may be gone, Luciana thought, but I get to be with Melody this time!

The lady and her maid smiled together.

Chapter 9:
After Homeroom

MEANWHILE, IN STARK CONTRAST TO the heartwarming scene taking place in Luciana’s room, chaos gripped the top floor of the men’s Upper Hall dormitory.

“A maid café?! What were you thinking?!”

“I-I said I was sorry! It was anonymous, so I figured it’d be fine! I definitely didn’t think they’d actually choose it!”

“As if you weren’t working that stupid, smug grin of yours to convince everyone!”

“I might’ve forgotten that part!” Christopher squealed apology after apology, dodging Anna-Marie like she was a wild boar loose in his bedroom. Only her Silence spell prevented the rest of the dorm from hearing the commotion.

“I can’t believe you. This isn’t the Internet! People could’ve recognized your handwriting!”

“Not if I thought of that and made sure to change it.”

“Then that’s the only thing you thought of, so wipe that stupid smirk off your face!”

“I’m smarter than I look, y’know.”

“Do you even hear yourself? You know that’s an insult, right?”

“O-oh. It is?”

“Oh my god, how are his grades better than mine?” Anna-Marie crumpled, burying her face against the bedsheets as she gave up hope.

Christopher scuttled to the couch, where he caught his breath. “Look, your magic’s great and all, but still. Could you try to keep it down? If anyone finds out you’re here, we’re stuck with each other. For life. In holy matrimony.”

“I know that, but you really crossed a line today. A maid café? Are you serious? Why?” The marquess’s daughter picked herself up and sat on the edge of the bed to properly judge the prince.

He shifted awkwardly. “I’m sorry, okay? I heard festival, I thought cultural festival, which means maid café. It sounded fun.”

“Fine.” Anna-Marie sighed. “Fair enough.” She couldn’t pretend not to understand. She’d had practically no time to indulge in tomfoolery since April—since her memories returned to her, really. The Dark One posed an ever-present threat. They still hadn’t found the Saint. The plot veered wildly off course. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t justify relaxation.

Goofing off as Anna the commoner is nice and all, but Chris doesn’t have that luxury, she thought. Not as the prince.

The Festival Ball, like any traditional school festival in Japan, offered a chance to let loose and make memories. Anna-Marie could fume about her compatriot’s shortsightedness all she wanted, but she couldn’t deny the emotions that inspired his lapse in judgment, for she felt them too.

“But why a maid café specifically?” she asked. “There are so many other clichés you could have gone with. A yakisoba or takoyaki stand. Honestly, I would have been all for crepes.”

“Sheesh, you hungry? Tell me something, Anna. Yakisoba, takoyaki, crepes, or a bunch of pretty maids. Which would you pick?”

“Pretty maids.” This, she spoke with heretofore unseen ardor. The majesty of her expression could have put empresses to shame.

“I rest my case.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose. You made the only correct decision.”

Bereft of an unbiased third party, the royal couple’s resolution would go unchallenged. When it came to women, and only women, they were of one mind.

“Being completely real, I never expected them to like that idea so much,” the prince said.

“It was a novel concept to them. Your stirring little speech about the educational merits certainly helped warm them up to it as well. Honestly, your brain works in mysterious ways.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Again, not a compliment.”

“Oh.”

“The fact that I’m losing to you on exams is proof there is no god.”

“Hey, I’m actually studying these days. Helps that this new body’s got crazy smarts.” Christopher snickered, earning himself a look in the process.

Anna-Marie sighed. “Okay, smarty pants, next you’ll tell me placing second was all part of your master plan?”

“You know that compulsive plot force or whatever? Man, is it strong, huh?” The prince ruffled his hair flippantly.

“Be serious! You remember what I told you, don’t you? What placing second means?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the first step in his corruption or whatever. I remember.”

“Then act like it.”

There were several corruption events in The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths. These took the form of mini-bosses, ultimately leading up to battle with the Dark One itself. Luciana Rudleberg, the Jealous Witch, was the first of these mini-bosses, a role which had fallen to Luna Invidia instead.

There were other corruption events as well. Notably, the love interests could fall under the Dark One’s influence, just as the Jealous Witch had. The cracks in their psyches, deep-seated insecurities, fears—all of these presented vulnerabilities the ancient evil would inevitably take advantage of. The first of the men to fall victim was none other than Christopher. Losing the top spot in class to Schroden was the first blow of many to come.

Each of the love interests carried their own trauma and burdens of the heart. As Cecilia came to know and grow closer to the men, she would soothe these aches, and in so doing earn their affection. But the Dark One was always working against this, always seeking to grow its reach through any means necessary.

“What burdens Christopher—”

“Is the pressure of being the crown prince,” he interjected. “You’ve told me a zillion times.”

Game Christopher officially became crown prince the moment he came of age at just fifteen. The realm accepted this hasty investiture in part due to his being capable beyond his years, but primarily out of urgency thanks to the tradition of primogeniture.

For many generations, the Theolan sovereign sired only a single heir. The current king, the previous, and even the one before that all lacked siblings thanks to yet another tradition: stubborn monogamy. Each and every king of Theolas had been so unyieldingly faithful as to deny taking a single other lover. A romantic yet politically risky endeavor, to be sure. As a result, they had to resolve matters of succession and positions of power swiftly to maintain stability among the peerage and credibility in the public eye. A series of hasty and, frankly, lucky betrothals to strong women, as well as this decisiveness, had thus far made for a successful line of monarchs.

Thus far.

Anna-Marie Victillium was the daughter of a marquess, and the heroine’s rival, the villainess of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths. A selfish, short-tempered, shortsighted, and unfaithful woman, she let her eyes wander despite her engagement. Such an individual was unfit to serve as the pillar a crown prince truly needed. And so, weighed upon by expectation, duties to the student council, and an intolerance of failure, Christopher had lived the majority of his short life on a razor’s edge. He did so in secret, without a pillar, hiding his suffering behind a mask that he, the future king, learned to wear since birth. So skilled was he in this deceit that even his old friend, Maxwell, was none the wiser.

His father, the king, had lived similarly in his youth, but he’d had a pillar, a fiancée he could trust, a beloved whom he’d known long before his investiture. With her, he could let the mask drop and share the burdens of leadership—the kinds of responsibilities Anna-Marie was apt to shirk.

Without support, Christopher’s heart slowly blackened. Stress built as the willful partner who ought to have supported him only seemed to add to his troubles, and then mysterious events struck Royal Academy. When Schroden finally made his appearance, the prince was already mentally haggard. And when the foreigner robbed him of his place, scoring highest among the first-years, the house of cards crumbled. The descent was swift. Just half a year into his academic career, and already the prince had allowed a blemish. However small it was, or how little his peers seemed to mind the negligible difference in their test scores, Christopher had set his mind to perfection, and second place wasn’t perfect.

Thus began the month of the Festival Ball. While preparations were underway, he, as vice president of the student council, had to interface with the committee and ensure steady progress. But Schroden, representing Class A, seemed to accomplish this unbidden. Christopher’s inferiority complex ballooned, and the Dark One took notice, ultimately corrupting the ailing prince. It would come down to Cecilia, the heroine, to free him through battle and save the day.

“With or without the main character, the show will go on,” Anna-Marie said. “I realize you’re not as fixated on scores as the game’s Christopher, nor as obsessed with Princess Ciestine as he was with Schroden, but based on past experience, that won’t necessarily prevent the corruption event.”

“Obviously, but what do you want me to do? Be on edge all day, every day? We’ve been planning for this since we were kids. We have our ace, don’t we?” Christopher pulled out an envelope, opened it, and read the letter inside. “‘Greetings, Brother. How fare you? I am well.’ The little guy’s looking out for me.”

“To be honest, I still can’t believe that plan actually worked.”

In the game, the prince’s burden was especially heavy because he had to bear it alone. Should he fail to live up to his title, no one could take it on in his stead.

The royal couple decided to rectify that at its source: Their Majesties’ bedroom.

“Mother, Father,” a young Christopher had said, “I think I’d like a little brother or sister.”

“I would take such good care of a little girl,” Anna-Marie had once said.

Through a number of such subtle suggestions, they seeded the idea until a second prince was born.

Arnold was only seven and still far too young to take the public stage, but nonetheless a miracle. For the first time in countless years, there was a line to the Theolan throne. This carried with it the risk of an inheritance dispute, but the comfort the boy brought offset that. Knowing that another could carry the torch, that so much wasn’t riding solely on Christopher, eased the tormented prince’s heart.

“Frankly, I don’t see myself turning evil anytime soon,” he said.

“I know. I know we’ve made plans. I know that. I just…can’t help worrying.” Plot beats were hitting as scheduled, with or without the key figures present. Impromptu substitutes made up for absences, including the heroine’s, at least as far as Anna-Marie had observed. This worried her to no end.

At present, Christopher displayed none of the signs of creeping corruption. Kurita Hideki, former Japanese high schooler, didn’t feel the weight of his status as poignantly as Christopher the video game character had. So what was there to worry about? The narrative force finding some other means to bring the prince harm, that was what.

“Just tell me if anything happens,” she said.

“Was planning on it.” Christopher gave his friend a reassuring smile. It served its purpose well enough for the time being.

Chapter 10:
A Meeting of Minds, a Meeting of Maids

AFTER SCHOOL THE FOLLOWING DAY, October 6th, the first Festival Ball Committee meeting took place in a special room. All six members of the student council and the two representatives from each class attended, making eighteen total. This year’s festival overseer and head instructor of third-year Class A, Ragnus Zoul, presided over the meeting. The students sat at desks arranged in a square facing the center of the room, with Ragnus watching quietly from one corner.

“I now call this Festival Ball Committee meeting to session. I, Student Council President Albert Rincot’dor, shall officiate. I take it there are no objections?” Albert bore the same golden hair and eyes as his younger sister, Olivia. He was a large man, but a comforting presence rather than an intimidating one. “Let’s begin with introductions, shall we?”

The student council and committee members took turns introducing themselves. When they finished, Albert proceeded to the next order of business.

“Firstly, we must elect a chairman of the committee, so as to better facilitate our cooperation moving forward.” He looked to the third-year committee members from Class A. He knew one particular student well, and knew they’d work well together, but before Albert could call his name, someone’s hand went up. “Your Highness?”

“I’ve a simple question.” Ciestine smiled cordially. “May I ask it?”

Albert returned the expression. “Of course.”

“Are there any particular restrictions or procedures associated with electing this chairman?”

“Not officially, no, but traditionally—”

“Then I nominate myself, Ciestine van Rordpier.”

All the air rushed out of the room. Every year prior, the student council president named the head of the committee. Ciestine might have known that had she not interrupted the president.

“Your Highness, it’s tradition that the student council president designates the committee’s head.”

“Oh? I was given to understand there were no official procedures.” A mere upturn of her lips and a tilt of her head was enough for Ciestine to captivate her audience.

She knew what she was doing, as Albert saw clearly. He regarded her sternly. Doubtless she pulled this stunt knowing full well our traditions, he surmised. I should tread carefully.

“Your enthusiasm is commendable, Your Highness, but I’m afraid the Festival Ball is too important for me to entrust to inexperienced hands. You understand.” Albert’s grin was polite but nonetheless firm. He’d stated a perfectly objective basis for his refusal. On a personal level, however, he detested casting aside tradition so casually, particularly to relinquish the celebration to a Rordpier princess of all people.

One could interpret her initiative as interest in learning our ways, a means of deepening our bonds, Albert supposed. But one could also interpret it as duplicitous. What does she stand to gain by placing herself near the student council?

A ducal house was only one step away from royalty, and the president’s mind was accordingly sharp. It swam with ideas, but truthfully he knew far too little to jump to conclusions regarding Ciestine’s motives. He needed to find a compromise, then.

“I can’t in good conscience afford you the leadership position you seek,” he said, “but a vice-chairmanship might sate your passion and would serve as excellent experience should you find yourself on the committee next year as well. If you’re amenable to the idea, that is.”

Ciestine regarded her peers pensively. “It seems my excitement to get to know you all has conveyed impatience. I would be glad to accept this position instead, if you would have me.”

“Objections? By show of hands.” No one raised a hand. “Then vice-chairman of the committee shall be Princess Ciestine. For chairman, I nominate Leon Sheuzelberd, third-year of Class A. Do you accept?”

“Solemnly.” The bespectacled son of a count nodded.

“Here’s to a fruitful partnership, Lord Sheuzelberd,” Ciestine said.

“Just Leon will do.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

It is entirely possible that we’ve played into her hands, and the initial outburst was only intended to draw out this compromise. Still, she’s certainly displayed admirable initiative for having just enrolled. Leon’s eyes flickered over to Christopher.

Albert’s did the same. Unfazed. Then all is within expectations? Only time will tell how our crown prince elects to engage with Her Highness, and I can only pray that my peaceful presidency isn’t put at risk.

Meanwhile, in first-year Class A, homeroom got underway. Instructor Regus sat in a corner while Olivia Rincot’dor stood at his podium. While Christopher and Anna-Marie were away on festival business with Ciestine, Olivia, the next highest in status, had stepped up to lead. So it was in a stratified society such as theirs. Few were so bold as to hand orders down to a duke’s daughter.

“Let us begin discussion as to the nature of this ‘maid café’ of ours. But first…” Olivia went quiet for several seconds. Just as Luciana was wondering what was happening, their eyes met. “Luciana Rudleberg, would you join me as my assistant?”

“M-me?!” The lady lurched to her feet, shuffling in place indecisively.

Luna patted her on the back. “I wouldn’t keep Lady Olivia waiting.”

“B-but why—”

“This is your chance to mend bridges, Luciana.”

Suddenly, a days-old conversation with Melody sprang to mind. Olivia’s maids, after giving Melody the cold shoulder for a semester, had apologized and explained that their actions hadn’t reflected their lady’s will. Quite the opposite, in fact. Olivia had purportedly given them a good scolding for their mischief. All was well now, and the maids were even having lunch together. Perhaps this spoke to Olivia’s motives.

Maybe she wants to bury the hatchet too? Luciana dared to hope. She wished very much for that to be the case.

Strangely relaxed, Luciana approached the podium and bowed. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Excellent. I’d like you to take notes.”

“I can do that.” Luciana beamed.

This seemed to take Olivia aback, but she quickly recovered and addressed the class. “Now then. We’ve much to go over, beginning with…”

The proud lady rattled off topics one after another, as if she’d practiced reciting them beforehand. Luciana scrambled to the blackboard and scribbled furiously to keep up. Subjects included everything from assigning roles to budgeting.

“We’ll be debating the details until next month at this rate,” Luna muttered, overwhelmed by the quickly filling blackboard.

Olivia nodded. “Indeed. Time is short, meaning our ability to efficiently prioritize and delegate will determine our success. We must draft an outline of our plans within the week so work can begin next week.”

“That may prove difficult, my lady.” Lucif Gelman, a commoner, raised his hand.

“Elaborate.”

“While aggregate meetings such as this are certainly useful when you need to agree broadly on details, it comes at a great cost to efficiency, especially if we entertain each individual’s opinion.”

Several students nodded in agreement. The meeting would never conclude if the thirty-odd students each spoke their mind.

“Agreed,” said Olivia. “Which is why I propose that as we assign groups of roles, we simultaneously designate leaders of said groups. Those groups can then discuss specific plans.”

“That would certainly speed things along.”

“Which is precisely the point. On that note, Master Lucif, I nominate you as head of budgeting.”

“Me, my lady?”

“Yes, you. I’ve assessed our budget, but to be frank, my frame of reference is on far too grand a scale to allocate it properly. Yours is a merchant family, yes? I should think you up to the task.”

“I suppose that’s true. Very well. I accept.”

The class breathed a collective sigh of relief. Many doubted whether they could come together without either their prince or perfect lady, but Olivia proved it could be done and bolstered their confidence in the process. Christopher and his entourage shone so brightly it was easy to forget Olivia was a pillar of the academy in her own right.

Luciana gaped as she arrived at the same conclusion as her classmates. My goodness. She’s a born leader. I really do hope we can finally be friends after this. Her chest swelled with excitement.

Afterward, they divided up the class into smaller groups, with each electing a leader. Then the class emptied, leaving only a few final figures behind.

“There’s much to decide,” Olivia said.

Eight leaders remained, four highborn and four lowborn. Olivia Rincot’dor administered this gathering, assisted by Luciana Rudleberg, of course. The maid group chose Lady Luna Invidia as its head. Lord Albert Rossente led the manservants. None other than Lucif Gelman took charge of budgeting, while costuming fell to Carol Misweed, aesthetics to Rodrick Baut, and catering to Nadia Woodhill.

Olivia had to monitor the overall logistics of the café, while Luciana would serve as a secretary of sorts. Under certain circumstances, she would also act on Olivia’s behalf. Given that nobles would play the role of the “servants,” they chose the highest nobles among them, excepting Christopher, as their leaders. Commoners headed all the other groups, such as those controlling finances, procuring costumes for the all-important maids and butlers, selecting and decorating the venue, and preparing tea and other food.

With Cecilia McMarden’s departure, Class A sat at thirty-two students total. Minus the four student council and committee members, that brought the number of free hands to twenty-eight. Of those, nine were commoners, half of whom were heading sub-groups. That Class A lacked the same representation as other classes came down to its propensity to attract the very zenith of Theolan high society. There was a certain reluctance to intermingle the lower-class masses with the likes of the crown prince.

One of their number, Carol Misweed, raised her hand. “So, um, I don’t actually know that much about costumes.” The girl knew next to nothing about those of the domestic arts, much less their uniforms. Few commoners did.

Olivia acknowledged this. “I’ll ensure each group includes at least one noble. They can offer their own perspective. More importantly, Madam Misweed, I’d like to place you in charge of design.”

“But if the maids are all going to be nobles, can’t they bring their own uniforms from home?”

“The Festival Ball calls for more than that, Madam Misweed. A unified aesthetic would better suit the event than a mess of conflicting styles.”

“I’m afraid the budget won’t allow for custom-made outfits for each individual,” Lucif pointed out.

Olivia nodded. “An issue I was hoping costuming could resolve by fashioning the dresses and suits themselves, but I fear that would be too tall an order.”

“Designing, I can do,” Carol said, “but sewing is another matter.”

“And we can’t very well solve the matter by throwing bodies at it,” Nadia, head of catering, said. “Cooking will have our hands full as it is, I think.”

Everybody understood the sort of attention their idea would garner. As soon as the public learned that the upper echelons of aristocracy would be waiting on their lessers, it would cause a stir, which meant they’d need a great deal of cooks behind the scenes to meet the expected demand. There simply weren’t enough people available to solve costuming’s dilemma with sheer numbers.

Luciana raised her hand.

“Yes, Lady Rudleberg?” Olivia said.

“I believe my own maid can help,” she said. “Once aides are allowed on campus, that is. She’s incredibly skilled with a needle.”

“That is reassuring, but a single skilled hand hardly settles the issue.”

“I believe it will. She’s very fast, you see.” Luciana pantomimed a demonstration. “Very fast.”

Indeed, Luciana’s hands moved very fast. As fast as a sewing machine. Which was no exaggeration. Melody was that fast. And precise. Melody was an anomaly.

“That…would certainly help.” Of course, no one actually believed the claim, but the lady spoke with enough confidence to convince them of her maid’s capabilities, if nothing else. “In that case, we’ll take Lady Rudleberg’s suggestion, reorganizing the groups as necessary. That goes for every group that happens to be understaffed at any given moment.”

“I concur with Lady Olivia’s judgment,” Lucif said. “This is our first Festival Ball, after all. Some degree of trial and error is a matter of course. Three weeks is a dauntingly short amount of time to accomplish everything, but more than enough time in which to learn and grow.”

The leaders nodded, their minds as one.

“So, that’s how I got you on the costuming team.”

“I see. I must say, my lady, I’m excited.” Melody smiled. She’d just finished listening to her lady recount the day after dinner. “Though I’m somewhat concerned about the logistics. You’re certain I can travel unaccompanied while on academy grounds?”

“As long as you have a job to do, it should be fine, as far as I know.”

“Very well. I’ll be sure not to disappoint you, so feel free to make friends with Lady Olivia. Do remember to be thorough while assisting her, my lady!”

“I will! We’ve only really talked at meetings, but I hope we get to chat about things other than business sometime soon.”

“You will, I’m sure. Did you happen to learn when I can join you?”

“We’ll still be discussing things for the rest of this week, but we probably want to start making uniforms early. Could you come the evening of the day after tomorrow? They should be registering visitors by then.”

“I certainly can, my lady. And I shan’t besmirch the name of House Rudleberg when I do. This, I promise.” Melody curtsied low.

Luciana giggled. “I know you won’t.”

Chapter 11:
Investing in Vestments

TWO DAYS PASSED BEFORE MELODY ARRIVED at Royal Academy on the evening of October 8th via the servants’ entrance at the back. There, she asked for her lady, and Luciana retrieved her shortly after.

“She’s to be my aide for the Festival Ball,” Luciana explained. “If you don’t mind registering her.”

The staff member prepared the paperwork quickly, and Melody signed it at once. Upon slaying the beast that was bureaucracy, the staff member presented Melody with a trinket.

“This is my entry pass?” Melody asked. It was a lavish thing, a rhombus-shaped brooch affixed with a dark red, slightly translucent gemstone. Melody could tell that it wasn’t a ruby, but not much else. It looked almost like glass, except it wasn’t that either. “How odd. What stone is this?”

“I’m not certain myself,” the staff member said. “But it’s been enchanted with the information you’ve just provided me. You need only wear it, and it will register your mana as well. On that note, please be aware that it isn’t for sharing. We will know if anyone tries to gain entry with a brooch that isn’t theirs.”

“Understood.” Melody affixed it to her chest, where it clung surprisingly weightlessly. She could hardly feel it tugging at her clothing.

“Ready?” Luciana asked.

“Yes, my lady.”

Melody followed her lady, the brooch catching the light with every step. But Luciana did not take Melody to the classroom as she’d expected.

“My lady?”

“This is the tailoring room. We come here sometimes to practice sewing for etiquette class. In we go.”

Luciana opened the door to reveal a facility fit for a tailor. Six tables, each large enough to seat six, filled the classroom. One had been commandeered, rather zealously, for seven. Behind those seven students stood two maids and one valet.

Melody noted the maids. One was Sasha, in service to Luna Invidia. The other was Gloriana, who served Olivia. She didn’t recognize the manservant. Luna was also there, but not Olivia.

“You know Carol,” Luciana said. “This is Melody, one of my maids. She’s going to be helping with costuming. Play nice.”

“Of course,” Carol said. “Hello, Melody.”

“Madam Carol,” the maid greeted. “Melody Wave, at House Rudleberg’s service, and now yours. A pleasure to make your acquaintances.” With a curtsy, she took her place with the other servants, grinning at the two she already knew.

“Okay, I have other work to do, so I’ll leave you to it,” Luciana said. “Good luck, Melody.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Waving, Luciana hurried away to her next task.

“Right,” Carol began. “Let’s get to it. First order of business is to settle on a design for the uniforms. As such, I thought it pertinent to involve the heads of the maid and butler groups. Thank you, both of you.”

“Head maid would be me, Luna Invidia,” the noblewoman said.

“I head the butlers,” said the lord. “Albert Rossente is my name.”

That short introduction served as Melody’s induction into the circle. And so, the work began.

“I think red ribbons for girls and ties for boys would be cute, to match our first-year uniforms.”

“Lace or frills would look lovely here or here, I think.”

“Speaking as a maid,” Melody chimed in amid the din of opinions, “lace and frills are generally undesirable, as they’re apt to get caught on things while you work. It’s my humble suggestion that you use them sparingly in the name of safety.”

“Should we do caps or hairbands? Can you speak on that?”

“Caps are preferred for their practicality, though given the spirit of the project, I believe hairbands would offer an air of elegance as well as the freedom to style hair more liberally.”

The design meeting was in full swing, led exclusively by the women, while the three men maintained a respectful silence. They knew their place.

“What do we think of this?” Carol presented a sketch of their ideas.

It engendered passionate reactions.

“Oh, it’s lovely!”

“Perhaps a tad gaudy?”

“Really? I think it’s far too plain. Consider that Lady Anna-Marie and Lady Olivia will be wearing it.”

“And they would stun regardless, I’m sure.”

The current draft was on the frillier, lacier side compared to Melody’s uniform. Carol depicted an adorable uniform bearing a red ribbon on the chest, as suggested, and a hairband for ease of hairstyling. The butler uniform took little time to decide on, incorporating a tailcoat as its most striking element. It, too, used red for the necktie, the color of first-years.

“Any objections?” Carol asked. The room fell silent. “Then I’ll submit this to Lady Olivia. That concludes today’s meeting. Lady Luna, Lord Albert, thank you for your attendance.”

“It’s only right that we weigh in, given we’ll be the ones wearing it,” Luna said.

“Indeed,” Albert agreed. “This was a fruitful meeting. Best of luck with the tailoring.”

“They’ll do great work. The, um, others I mean,” Carol said sheepishly.

“Not you?” Luna giggled as Carol looked away. The others followed suit.

“I was on design duty for a reason. Not that I won’t try my best, for whatever good that does.”

“Sasha, take care of her, will you?” Luna said, still giggling.

“Yes, my lady.” Sasha bent her knees, doing her best not to catch her lady’s laughter.

“It’s appreciated,” Carol said. “Maybe I’ll paint a picture of everyone. Preserve their hard work.”

“That would be great. And maybe the aesthetic team could hang it up.” Luna beamed.

Albert, however, frowned and massaged his temples. “I would expect the head of costuming to engage in the actual creation of the costumes.”

“I-I will,” Carol insisted. “I’ll try. When I’m not painting, at least.”

Her honesty earned her a round of laughter, this time of the uninhibited variety.

That’s Carol all right, thought Melody. She knew best of all about the girl’s passion for art. It brought the maid genuine joy to watch her embrace it. I haven’t a clue what brought it on, but my lady tells me she’s finally enrolled in the fine arts class. If my help can free her to focus on what she enjoys most, then help I will. I owe her that much after Cecilia disappointed her. The maid burned with a passion of her own.

“Now then, tomorrow we’ll continue discussing the specific tasks at hand, but we needn’t burden Lady Luna and Lord Albert with that part,” Carol said. “Let’s straighten things up, and then we can disband.”

Melody’s hand shot up. “Cleaning is a maid’s job!”

Now, this was true. No one disputed the fact that cleaning was the domain of the maid. But what all save Carol, who was suddenly busy sketching, wondered was why one would volunteer for such a duty with such spirited enthusiasm. Not to mention the beaming smile.

The other maids raised their hands next.

“I shall assist,” Gloriana said. “’Twould be a dereliction of my duty to Lady Olivia not to.”

“May I remain as well, Lady Luna?” Sasha asked.

“I suppose that’s fine,” Luna replied, still not quite recovered from Melody’s outburst. “Carol? Aren’t you coming?”

“Go on without me,” the artist said curtly. “I have maids to render.”

“You also have a draft to submit to Lady Olivia, do you not?” Albert pointed out.

Carol wailed in agony. “Not yet! Let me finish the outline! Just an outline, my lord!”

“As much as I want to take your side, Carol, I do have to insist that you do the work assigned to you,” Luna said.

“As do I,” said Albert. “The draft. To Lady Olivia.”

“Two at once?! Cowards! You’re all cowards!”

A pair of girls promptly swept Carol away at Albert’s instruction. He and Luna followed. Then the manservant departed with his employer, leaving only the three maids.

Silence reigned as they stared at each other—until laughter ended the stalemate.

“Lady Luna’s class really is something, isn’t it?” Sasha said.

“Madam Carol is an artist through and through,” Melody said. “She would spend an entire day drawing if she could, I’m sure.”

“I might be inclined to let her if it wasn’t at the expense of Lady Olivia’s own responsibilities,” Gloriana chided.

“No harm done,” Sasha replied. “If what we witnessed is any indication, she’s on a tight leash.”

“No harm indeed. Now, we’ve got cleaning to do,” Melody said.

Entirely laughed out for one evening, the maids set about their work in earnest—what little work there was to do, in any case. Meetings were not generally messy affairs.

“I’m surprised Lady Olivia isn’t expecting you,” Melody said to Gloriana. They’d just returned the key to the tailoring room and were on their way back to the dormitory.

Their respective ladies still lingered on campus, busy with more meetings, but costuming’s work was done for the day. It was a pleasant coincidence that they were all bound for the Upper Hall.

“Lady Olivia does not often require assistance,” Gloriana replied. “And what she does need, Lady Luciana Rudleberg can provide. My lady has deemed my humble self best put to use aiding costuming. Were my services necessary to her, she would have called for her lady-in-waiting instead.”

“You’re her assistant housekeeper, as I recall.”

“Why not send one of her housemaids?” Sasha asked. “They would be more accustomed to the work, no?”

“My dear Sasha, if you presume my skills, the skills of an assistant housekeeper, to be in any way inferior to a simple housemaid, then I am frankly wounded.” Gloriana swiped a lock of hair over her shoulder haughtily.

Sasha responded with a defiant smirk. “Oh? You’ll have to demonstrate for me, but why don’t we make this a contest? See who can sew the best uniform?”

“An interesting proposition, and one I accept.”

“Wh-what’s gotten into you two?!” Melody sputtered.

“Want in?” Sasha asked. “We can make this a three-way competition.”

“Do I ‘want in’?!’”

“That would make things more interesting,” Gloriana agreed. “A veritable Costuming Battle Royale.”

“A nail-biting, blood-dripping, sweat-pouring war of maidly pride!” Sasha proclaimed.

This set something alight in Melody. A flame, the flame of her maidly pride!

“That, my friends, is something I shan’t surrender easily,” she said. “Consider this my casus belli! For my lady, I shall make the most perfect maid uniform the world has ever seen!”

“Ah, but you forget. Perfection better suits Lady Olivia,” Gloriana said.

“You’ll both be sorry when the star happens to be Lady Luna!” Sasha shot back.

They faced each other, fists clenched with a surfeit of passion.

“Winner takes all,” Sasha said. “No hard feelings. The game is on!”

Only one of those fists rose toward the sky with a cheer—Melody’s.

“So then they made fun of you. Gosh, Melody, you’re just the cutest.”

“Sasha started it! It’s not fair! I feel so betrayed!” Melody slapped her hands on her reddened cheeks. She’d just finished lamenting her most recent grievance to Luciana.

After cruelly egging Melody on, Sasha and Gloriana had abandoned her in her moment of fervor. Rather than joining the poor maid in raising their fists to the heavens, they’d laughed. It wasn’t until Sasha revealed that the “contest” had mostly been a joke that Melody realized the truth.

“Honestly, when did they have the time to plan such a skit?” Melody said. “I’m mortified.”

“At least they apologized,” Luciana snickered. “They were laughing with you, not at you.”

The maid, still blushing fiercely, muttered a frail “I suppose.” Yet a lilt of delight lifted her voice.

“Not to go off topic, but I’m feeling a little hungry.”

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’ll start dinner at once!” Melody hurried off, but stopped halfway and about-faced, digging in her pocket. “I almost forgot. A letter from Lord Hubert arrived for you, my lady.”

“For me? Not for Father?”

“There was another addressed to His Lordship. I retrieved yours during my afternoon at the estate.”

Luciana wasted no time opening and reading it. It must have been short because soon she looked back up at Melody. “Seems he’s on his way. He estimates he’ll arrive on the afternoon of the 11th.”

“That’s this upcoming weekend. You’ll be able to greet him, my lady.”

“He must have arranged it that way. Plan your most scrumptious lunch, will you?”

“Certainly, my lady.”

“But first, a scrumptious dinner please.”

“Right! At once, my lady!” Melody scurried to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Hubert’s entourage were staying at an inn along the way to the capital. Said entourage included all the expected personages. Dyrule the guardsman and Schue the valet-in-training joined Micah, Rook, and Lect.

Micah, the sole damsel in an otherwise masculine party, lucked into a room of her own. How would she make use of this luxury?

“Rub-a-dub-dub. Heh.”

Why, with a bathtime, of course, one courtesy of Rook. The Rudlebergs were not quite flush enough to afford inns with private bathing facilities.

She let out an exhausted sigh. “He’s no Miss Melody, but Rook’s magic is nothing to sneeze at.”

They’d brought a makeshift tub with them from the county, which the valet filled with a splash of magically conjured water. He also cast a few convenient spells to prevent any spillage and to keep the room from becoming muggy.

“If I can’t have a cottage, I guess I’ll take a warm bath. Hope he’s okay with me asking for this every day, because I’m absolutely going to.” She didn’t actually care whether he was okay with it or not. The privileges of being the youngest. She wore a cheeky grin.

For someone who’s always acting all broody and stoic, Rook’s actually pretty considerate, she thought. Unlike some older brothers who shan’t be named.

Suddenly, the Uovo del Mago vibrated, sending ripples across the surface of her serene bath.

“The heck did you pick up that time?” Micah held the egg up by the chain and eyed it disapprovingly. “When are you supposed to hatch, anyway? I remember Miss Melody saying a month or something, but I’m not seeing any trusty partner by my side. Are you broken?”

More accurately, Melody had predicted it would hatch “next month” back in August, making the due date sometime in September, but they were already into October.

“Eating that big, evil wolf probably didn’t help. I should bring it up to Miss Melody.”

They’d faced an anomaly at the Rudleberg county estate, a beastly, lupine monster that had no equal in the game Micah was so familiar with, save for perhaps the Dark One. Melody had purified the beast, transforming its inky coat white, only for the Uovo del Mago to mysteriously consume the creature. Not much had happened since. There had been no cause for concern, but perhaps that had something to do with why the egg had yet to hatch.

The sooner this thing pops, the sooner I can use magic. Any day now…

How nice it would be to prepare these baths for herself. To a young girl from another world, magic was a wondrous novelty. She couldn’t help her fascination.

“I’ll see what Miss Melody thinks when we get back,” she decided.

Micah stood. Bathtime over. Just three more days to the capital.

Chapter 12:
Hubert Returns

THE NOBLEMAN COCKED HIS HEAD AT THE Rudleberg estate as his carriage jostled past it. “That certainly doesn’t look familiar.”

The man gave the estate no further thought. He wasn’t accustomed to these streets, after all. As his gaze glanced over the manor, he spied a smattering of leaves tumbling in the wind. Oddly, they seemed to gather quite uniformly in one particular spot by the entryway.

Awfully windy, he thought innocently.

Again, the man gave it no further consideration. The estate remained in view for only a brief moment before the carriage continued on its way. And continue on it did. The man faced forward and sighed, eager to reach his destination.

“Not that one either,” the maid said, concerned. The man hadn’t noticed her, even though she stood at the estate’s entryway. In fairness, she was invisible.

It was October 11th, and Hubert was due to arrive that afternoon. Melody had hidden herself with the Trasparenza spell and was dutifully awaiting his and his party’s arrival.

“There they are!” It wasn’t long before she spied Rook and Dyrule in the coach seat. Lect rode beside them on his horse. “Right on schedule. I ought to go tell the other me. Alter Ego—release.”

And just like that, she disappeared in a cloud of sparkles, nothing more than a trick of the light to any who might have been looking at that particular place at that particular time.

“Ah. They’re here.” The real Melody was working in the kitchen. Alter Ego had its handicaps, namely that it only worked while Melody was conscious, but it was still one of the handiest spells in her toolbox.

Though the clones were weaker, they each boasted enough mana to cast simple spells, and she could maintain dozens at a time. When they vanished, she absorbed the memories and knowledge they acquired while active. Moreover, they could do anything Melody could, and therefore could stand in in dangerous situations without risking life or limb. Indeed, they were clones only in the connotative sense, disposable copies with all the potential for duplicitous scheming therein—so it was a good thing they belonged to the mad maid!

Melody could have used her loyal selves to expose secrets aplenty, compromise the royal family, do all manner of untold evils. Instead she’d chosen to use this most recent clone as a glorified doorbell—because she was a good girl.

She finished what she was doing, then said to her colleagues, “I’ll go and greet Lord Hubert. Serena, if you’ll fetch His Lordship and Her Ladyship. Paula, could you let Lady Luciana know as well?”

“Of course, Gentlesister.”

“You got it.”

Melody made for the foyer, then exited the estate. The carriage had not yet pulled into the entryway, but the gate stood open. Melody quickly straightened her dress, dusted off her skirt, and made ready. Just as she did, Dyrule, Rook, and Lect approached.

The maid budged not an inch, preserving her beauteous posture in silence until they stopped before her. “Our most humble welcome, Sir Froude,” she said.

“You’ve not spoken to me like that in…quite some time.”

“I’m not often greeting you as a guest.” Melody giggled. Though a mere guardsman for the purposes of this trip, Lect was technically the only officially titled noble among them. It was rare that she treated him as anything more than a friend, though. “Welcome, Master Dyrule. And welcome back, Rook.”

“Hello,” the valet grunted.

“I’ll try not to be a burden.” Dyrule alighted and made for the carriage door.

The moment he opened it, a golden mess spilled out. “Me first! Melody, is that you? I missed you!”

Schue bounced forth, grinning in his uncouth way and merrily prancing toward the maid who was the object of his affection. Or, rather, he tried to.

“And you will continue to miss her.”

Schue croaked as the guardsmen grabbed him by the collar.

“I believe you have a job to do,” Dyrule said.

“I was just so happy that it totally slipped my mind! Ahem. I’ll take that hand, milady.” Schue extended his own, rather gallantly in truth. He was the picture of a brave knight awaiting the hand of his princess. If only he could stay silent and maintain the illusion.

“Gross,” Micah spat. Though disinclined to overlook his idiosyncrasies, she accepted his help, though not without grimacing for good measure.

“Welcome back, Micah,” Melody said.

“It’s good to be back.”

“How was the trip?”

“Not so bad with Rook’s help. The baths helped.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’ll have to tell me more when we have a moment.”

“Uh-huh! I have stuff to talk to you about anyway.”

“Oh? Then I’ll be sure to find a minute for you.”

Mentor and pupil shared a smile.

“Your turn, milord,” Schue chirped.

“You’re halfway there, boy.” Hubert descended from the carriage without the valet’s princess treatment.

“Lord Hubert,” Melody said. “Welcome.”

“I’m…home? Is that the right phrase?”

“Certainly, my lord. Wherever there’s family, you have a home.”

“I see. Then I suppose I’m home. Happily.”

The bailiff and the maid shared a smile this time.

“No fair! Why haven’t I gotten a smile yet?” the boy whined. “I’m home too, Melody!”

“You most certainly are not,” Dyrule snapped.

Schue’s spirit didn’t deflate in the slightest. “Home is where milord is! When he’s home, so am I.”

“Yes, yes, welcome home, Schue,” Melody laughed.

“That’s more like it! I was really dreading this trip, in all honesty, but anything’s worth it if there’s a Melody waiting with a ‘welcome home, dear’ at the end!”

“She didn’t call you that.” Micah glared, but again, it fazed him not.

“You didn’t want to come?” Melody asked.

“Not at all! The streets reek of death and danger! It’s the untouchable city!”

“Death?”

“The what city?” Micah said.

“I just felt like there was bad energy here,” Schue went on. “I’d have really rather stayed home with my plants!”

House Rudleberg’s valet-in-training, Schue, was not the man he seemed. He was, in truth, one of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths’s five love interests: Schroden, second prince of the Rordpier Empire. He was also Hirosaki Shuuichi, a Japanese man reincarnated into the prince’s body and life, though his memories had only partially returned. Schroden had failed to parse that these memories stemmed from a previous life in a different world and instead interpreted them as visions of the future. Those visions revealed many deadly avenues within the city of Paltescia, simply because Schroden’s route was a minefield of bad ends. This manifested in Schue a great fear of the place.

“I would agree that the county is a comfortable place, but the capital is pleasant in its own way,” Melody said.

“You think so?”

“I know so. It’s very safe, for one thi… Erm, yes. Very safe.”

“Why did you look away when you said that?!”

“It, ah, really is safe, generally,” she said. “There was just a recent incident involving monsters that slipped my mind.”

“I’m smelling it! I’m smelling death!”

“I-it’s fine, really! We’ve had no such incidents since, and the knights have assured us the streets are secure. The capital is perfectly safe.”

“I see a pole,” Schue droned. “A pole with a banner flying aloft.”

“Huh. I saw that too,” Micah said.

“What? A flag, do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Flag: A meta term used in video games to refer to a particular set of actions that trigger a later event.

The mad maid was not familiar with this niche brand of foreshadowing.

“The capital is plenty safe, I’m sure,” Hubert said. “All the more so this time of year. They won’t risk an incident during the Festival Ball.”

“What’s a ‘Festival Ball’?” Schue asked.

“It’s a celebration hosted by Royal Academy at the end of the month,” Melody explained. “It includes a soiree—that is, a nighttime ball for the students—but also several events hosted by each class during the daytime matinee, which is open to the students’ families and their attending servants.”

“Wow. What is Lady Luciana’s class hosting?”

“A maid café.”

“A ‘maid café’?”

“A maid café?!” Micah’s eyes bugged. “What do you mean, a ‘maid café,’ Miss Melody?!”

“Exactly what I said,” Melody replied. “A café where our lady and her classmates will wait on customers as maids.”

“Whose idea was that?!”

“The class submitted their ideas anonymously, so I’m afraid nobody knows.”

“Oh…”

“What’s gotten into you, Micah?” Melody cocked her head at the girl.

“Um, nothing. Never mind.”

Micah’s mind swam with questions. What does this mean? Does this world just have those? Or am I not…?

Maid cafés were a cornerstone of otaku culture in Japan and a not-unheard-of concept for a cultural festival project. But they were entirely out of place in a stratified, Middle Ages society with a peerage.

“You mean to say Lady Luciana would wait on me? In a maid uniform?” Schue pondered this. “My interest is piqued.”

“If you lay one finger on my niece, boy, death will be more than a stench for you,” Hubert growled.

“M-milord, you know I’m joking, right?” The valet laughed awkwardly. “Right?”

“What will I do with you? Anyhow, it’s a wonder any group of noblemen and women would approach the idea of serving others with any degree of enthusiasm, much less mold it into a festive event.”

The concept was indeed novel, as Micah had ascertained from their exchange. Which left only one possibility: Am I…not alone?

It was the obvious conclusion. Of course, it could be that maid cafés did exist here in some niche form, given this world was based on a game made in Japan. But if there really is someone else like me, from another world, Micah thought, then the most likely candidate has to be…Anna-Marie.

Of all the discrepancies littering the world, the villainess stood out most prominently. She wasn’t supposed to be the Scarlet Seductress; she was supposed to be a selfish snob. Not the perfect lady but a loathsome rival.

It’s a tried-and-true trope for the main character to get reincarnated as the villainess, and then they try to make all the right choices and save the world, Micah thought. But her? Suggest a maid café? They had crossed paths only once, during the Jealous Witch Incident, when Micah recruited her and Christopher’s help. Those two had seemed more gallant than frivolous when the moment called for it. They looked like the hero and heroine to me. Anna-Marie doesn’t seem the sort of dork to propose a maid café and actually mean it, though. My brother, maybe, but not her.

It was, in fact, possible to be simultaneously on and off the mark. Nonetheless, Micah shelved the theory for now. There was one other problem with it.

Miss Melody doesn’t look the least bit surprised, she noticed. So she’s probably not from another world.

To Micah, it was far easier to believe this than accept the reality that Melody was simply so single-minded nothing but her passion for maids existed. Aside from her strange obsession, Micah had no reason to suspect her of being anything but native to this world. Even then, Melody’s love of maids focused purely on the profession itself. It didn’t remotely resemble the kind of infatuation an Earth-born otaku might harbor. Thus, her being from another world was inconclusive at best, and if the heroine could be so strange without having crossed realities, then why couldn’t Anna-Marie?

This world was indeed uncannily similar to The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths, but it was still real life. No lines of code determined their fates here, so who was to say their personalities couldn’t develop in any number of ways?

I’m still not totally convinced, though. There might be someone like me in Lady Luciana’s class. Guess I’ll just keep that in mind for now. What else am I gonna do?

Micah gripped the Uovo del Mago and sighed.

Chapter 13:
Hubert Gets Handsy

“WELCOME HOME, UNCLE.”

“Hello there, Luciana.”

Schue and Dyrule joined Melody and Hubert as they entered the foyer. Micah and Rook had stayed behind to unload the carriage. Luciana and Paula were waiting to greet them.

Seems Serena is still fetching the count and countess, Melody thought, noting their absence. Strange, after they’d spent so long chatting outside. Hopefully all was well.

“I see my brother isn’t here,” Hubert said.

“He shouldn’t be long,” replied Luciana. “Ah, speak of the devil.”

“Sorry about that, Hubert,” Hughes said.

“Ah. It’s no…trouble.”

As Hughes and Marianna descended the stairs to the foyer, Hubert beheld her, and his breath left him. Time slowed to a crawl as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the figure accompanying his brother and sister-in-law.

Hughes reached the foyer and opened his arms. “Greetings are in order. What’s mine is yours. Consider this your home away from home!”

Hubert approached with startling speed, but the count remained steady, ready to take his brother into his waiting embrace.

“Welcome…home?”

The count’s arms found nothing to embrace.

Hubert marched past Hughes. “How I missed you, Selena!” Serena let out a shrill yelp as Hubert lifted the maid standing quietly behind his brother into his big, burly arms. “I yearned so long to see your face. That I should find it here! This is a joyous day!”

“I-I beg your pardon?!” The doll, though a doll, was still a woman. She found the massive man’s forwardness more than a little distressing, to say the least. The strength and warmth of his broad chest permeated her uniform, and her cheeks burned a rosy red. “M-my lord!”

“I had no idea you had come under our employ. You should have written. I’m admittedly a little hurt, Selena.”

“My name isn’t—” Serena yelped again as his grip tightened.

“But I shan’t let you go. Not ever ag—”

“That is enough!” Luciana’s harisen cracked against Hubert’s skull.

Serena took the opportunity to escape and catch her breath.

“Are you okay?” Melody asked, trotting to her side and gently taking the doll by the shoulders.

“Yes, Gentlesister. A little shaken, granted, but fine.” Serena grasped her dress over her chest as her heart pounded.

Melody turned to the bailiff crouching and clutching his head. What was Lord Hubert thinking? And did he call Serena ‘Selena’?

Hubert groaned. “What’s the meaning of this, Luciana? That hurt, you know!”

“Good! And you have some nerve to ask that question after you assaulted a woman!” Luciana said.

The man grunted. The impact to his head appeared to jog his common sense back into place, and a blush rose in his face. “I…apologize. It’s just been so long since I last saw you, Selena.”

“Um, pardon me, my lord, but that isn’t my name,” Serena said.

“What?” The words hit him harder than the harisen. He first stared at nothing, stunned by shock, then at the woman. “You aren’t…Selena?”

She was her spitting image. It was as if Selena had stepped directly out of Hubert’s memory. Of course it wasn’t her, though. It was so obvious. The Selena of his memories was a young woman of nearly twenty, but fifteen years had passed since her departure from the County of Rudleberg. No, Selena would have been a mature woman in her thirties by now.

If she isn’t Selena, Hubert thought.

“No, my lord,” Serena replied. “My name is—”

“Then you must be Celesty!” he blurted.

Melody and Serena both reacted to this.

“Celesty?” Luciana said. “Who’s Celesty?”

“I’m sure I told you before. Selena was my first love, but she was with child. That child’s name was Celesty.”

“The woman who you said we sheltered briefly?”

“That’s right. Celesty ought to be about your age now. And your maid here is the spitting image of Selena when I knew her, so she simply must be… Wait. No. Celesty’s hair was silver.” Hubert’s shoulders fell. He remembered clearly the hair on the babe’s head when he saw her.

For Melody, something finally clicked. He’s talking about my mother.

A woman by the name of Selena with a resemblance to Serena. A girl with silver hair born over a decade ago by the name of Celesty. There were no two ways about it.

I was born in County Rudleberg, she realized. She’d always assumed she had lived in the Avarenton March in Anavalez all her life. She’d been wrong. Not that it changes anything, but…

Melody’s heart fluttered around her chest. It was a strange thing, to uncover the secrets of one’s own birth.

“My apologies,” the doll said. “I ought to have introduced myself sooner. I am Serena, my lord. A pleasure.”

“Alike in name as well. There have been stranger coincidences, I suppose.” Hubert paused. “A pleasure, Serena. My deepest apologies for my behavior.”

“It’s quite all right, my lord.” Serena smiled just like Selena.

Tears beaded in Hubert’s eyes.

“Hubert,” the count said, “you should rest a while. Come. Let’s head to the dining hall for some tea. Serena, if you would.”

“At once, Your Lordship.”

“Lord Rudleberg, I should take my leave,” Lect said, finally spying his chance.

“Of course, Sir Froude. I’m sorry you had to see that so soon after your homecoming. You’re welcome to join us for lunch, if you like.”

“I thank you for the offer, Your Lordship, but my lord awaits my report. I really should be off.”

“I see. A shame. But I won’t default on that debt just yet. Another time. Will you be taking Paula along with you?”

“No need.” He addressed the maid. “Though I will ask that dinner be ready when I return, if it isn’t any trouble.”

“That can be arranged,” Paula said. A sneer twisted her mouth. “Melody’s taught me some tricks that will knock you off your feet, I think.”

Lect puffed a single chuckle. “Then I’ll be off. Until next time, Melody.”

“Until next time,” the maid replied. “Shall I walk you?”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Visit soon, won’t you?”

“Of course. Give my regards to your lord.”

Melody grinned. A flush lit Lect’s cheeks before he could turn on his heel to depart.

“Gentlesister, I will prepare the tea if you will start lunch,” Serena said.

“Certainly.”

With that, Serena, too, departed for the dining hall with the rest of House Rudleberg, but Schue came jogging back.

“Melody,” he said.

“What is it, Schue?”

The boy wore a melty grin. “Servants can go to the matinee, right? Wanna see the sights with me?”

“Well, um, technically I’ll be assisting on the day of, seeing as I’m my lady’s aide, but if I have a free moment, I could spare one for you.”

“Really? Yahoo!”

“I thought you were afraid of the capital.”

“I’ve got me a second date! There’s no city scary enough to keep me down now! Anyway, let me know!” Goofy grin still firmly in place, Schue scampered back to the dining hall.

Melody giggled. “Always bursting with energy, that one.”

“You sure you should’ve told him that?” Paula grimaced for reasons unknown to Melody.

“Should I not have? What’s wrong with colleagues enjoying the festivities? I did want to see them if my lady ever found herself without need of my services.”

“O-okay then.”

Poor guy’s on the road to heartbreak, Paula thought. And the road’s looking an awful lot like the one my master’s on. Hang in there—it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

“Anyway, we’re needed in the dining hall,” Melody said. “I’m under orders to make today’s lunch extra special!”

“Anything more extravagant than what you usually make may well become a weapon in and of itself. You know what? I’ll help if I can take some of it home for dinner. I need a taste of this.”

“Sure thing!”

Lord Hubert, County Rudleberg, Melody thought. My mother and I owe them a debt I never knew. Luckily enough, this maid has the tools to pay it back!

She couldn’t reveal the truth that she was Celesty, not while hiding behind the moniker of Melody. She’d just have to make up for that as best she could, in the only way she knew how. Because that was what the most perfect maid would do.

Chapter 14:
A Letter to a Stormy Cloud

AS HUBERT AND THE OTHERS ARRIVED AT the Rudleberg estate, a Leginbarth butler brought tea to his master.

He sighed while pushing the tea cart. “What to do?” He opened the office door, loosing another forlorn breath, but quietly, so as not to disturb the count. He found his master locked in combat with the papers upon his desk, pen dancing along the parchment. “Your Lordship, I’ve brought tea.”

No response. Cloud’s pen continued to glide. The butler fought the urge to sigh a third time and began preparing the tea, futile though the effort was. Doubtless they’d repeat this ritual again shortly, and he would have to take away yet another lukewarm, untouched, forgotten cup.

But perhaps not.

“What remains?” the count rumbled, busy hands and eyes finally at rest. The pile of documents on the to-do side of his desk was no more.

The butler, relieved to see his lord rejoin the living, replied, “Nothing, my lord.”

Cloud grunted in confusion, as if this was news to him.

The butler sighed. Loudly this time. “Nothing demanding Your Lordship’s attention remains. I expect you’ve freed your entire week.”

“A week? I’ve nothing? For a whole week?”

“My lord, you have been utterly ravenous in your appetite for work for no less than half a month. Your retinue has struggled greatly to keep up.”

“I see.” This was indeed news to him. The count deflated at this unexpected turn of events.

The butler placed a cup of tea before him. “Might I suggest a rest?”

“Yes, I suppose. Thank you.” Cloud sipped, much to the butler’s relief. The taste enlightened him to the fact that he had indeed not tasted his tea in more than two weeks.

“Shall I prepare a meal?”

“No. Thank you. I’d like to be alone a while.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The butler bowed before taking his leave, glad to see his lord’s tension finally unwound.

Cloud relished the solitude for a moment, sipping his tea, then held his head. What’s come over me?

The one called Cecilia McMarden had been gone for two weeks. Only now had the count finally come to his senses enough to see what he had wrought. He’d lived as though possessed for every waking moment of those two weeks, utterly consumed by his work.

Consumed by cowardice, he corrected himself. I used it as an escape. And he could not claim he had done it entirely unwillingly. Work was the most convenient of excuses to distract his mind from things he would rather not ruminate on. But the work was done. And so the rumination began. Is she… Is Cecilia my daughter?

Confined to the back of his mind for so long, the unanswerable question sprang to the fore in force. Cloud first met the girl at the Spring Ball, where his knight Lect had served as her escort. She summoned to his mind images of his lost Selena, but why? She had not her eyes nor her hair. So why? At first, he had managed to stifle these doubt, consign them to coincidence.

If the girl truly is Selena’s daughter… Then the things he felt were no coincidence, but instead his own blood speaking to him. How joyous that would be, but what of Celedia?

What would such a development mean for the girl Sable had returned with from afar, the girl with his silver hair, with Selena’s lapis lazuli eyes?

An impostor? But they visited Anavalez.

Anavalez, a small village in the Avarenton March, the place where Selena raised their daughter. Celedia and Sable had visited it on their way to the capital, and the people there hadn’t doubted her identity. According to the knight, they’d rejoiced at her homecoming.

If Sable is lying to me, then to what end? What does the man stand to gain by dressing up a stranger and presenting her to me as my daughter?

It would be no easy feat to find someone with the right hair and eyes, much less a young girl of the appropriate age. Silver hair was a rare trait, so much so that Cloud had never witnessed it outside of House Leginbarth. Indeed, this trait was so definitive that he clung to it as the primary proof that Selena’s child was his.

It is doubtful that one as loyal as Sable would willingly deceive me.

Which could only mean one thing: The girl was his. Celedia was his. Cecilia was not. Yet the count struggled to believe that girl had nothing to do with Selena whatsoever. The mother Celedia knew did not sound to him like the woman he’d loved, which only added fuel to the conflicting feelings raging inside him.

Cloud’s heart told him his daughter was Cecilia, but the facts pointed to Celedia.

What’s the truth and what is a fiction? he agonized. How simple it would be for neither to be my daughter, impossible as that is. He shook his head, amused at his own wishful thinking.

The one possibility that didn’t—couldn’t—cross his mind was that the girl he sought was here in the capital, living her best maid life.

Again, I’m clamoring for excuses. Justifications.

When he’d first met Celedia, he’d felt nothing. A distressing lack of emotion for his flesh and blood shook him, especially compared to the abundance he felt for Cecilia, a complete stranger. Cloud had suffered no small amount of guilt over this. Perhaps he performed these mental gymnastics merely to escape his own shortcomings.

Perhaps, he thought. I could easily attribute the differences between my and Celedia’s Selena to changes wrought by time. Childbirth surely changed her. Cecilia’s uttering of one of her idioms cannot be a coincidence.

There was no need to doubt the girl over such silly little discrepancies, was there? He himself had considered that Selena’s distaste for sour things might have changed over time. Perhaps she and Cecilia’s mother were alike in certain ways. Perhaps. That was no evidence of deception. Was it?

I should have asked Cecilia’s mother’s name. Would that have resolved things? Or… Cloud scoffed at himself. Or would it have only tormented me when “Selena” wasn’t the answer?

Would he be able to move on? To simply forget the intensity of his feelings for the girl?

Have I the courage to face the truth? His hunger for answers was equaled only by his fear of those very same answers. He dared not presume that the future he dreamed of lay within reach, inhibited by but a single question. He’d lost the ability to hope for such things when he lost Selena. And this is why I need my work. Here I am, souring my own mood.

Cloud rested his elbow on the desk, and his forehead against his hand, sighing. He was more mess than man when he didn’t have a distraction, but according to the butler, he’d exhausted all possible work. Nothing remained to preoccupy his mind for a whole week.

Maybe I’ll make myself available to the Chancery, he considered. His work as a count was finished, but there was always something for the vice-chancellor to do. Perhaps the busy environment would do his doldrums some good.

His mind made up, Cloud stood. Just then, a knock sounded.

“Lectias Froude, my lord. I’ve returned.”

“E-enter!”

Lect still donned his travelwear. Evidently he’d made straight for the estate without sparing a moment to rest. Cloud smoothed his expression into cool composure and faced Lect with the austerity with which a lord ought to regard his vassal.

“Reporting from County Rudleberg, Your Lordship,” the knight said.

“Well met. Speak.”

“Yes, my lord.” Lect stood across the desk from the count and began to relay events. He told Cloud that Cecilia had recovered wonderfully during the journey. “In the days following our departure, her health improved substantially. When we arrived at the county, she was doing quite well. I imagine it will be some time before she’s fully recovered, but she did manage to write this.”

The knight produced a letter from Cecilia to Cloud. The count blinked in astonishment. Indeed, he’d never dared to hope. The possibility that she might do such a thing had never crossed his mind. With a shaking hand, he accepted, staring unblinking at the name on the envelope. Cecilia McMarden.

Lect watched, conflicted, as a whirl of emotions flashed across his lord’s face. Thankfully, Cloud was too absorbed in the letter to notice. “Nothing else to report, my lord. Will you send a reply?”

“Right. Yes. Well, I ought to read it first.”

“Then I’ll excuse myself.”

“Dismissed. Rest well.”

With a knightly salute, Lect left the count alone. And so the count read.

The letter was a thank-you for the count’s help with Cecilia’s enrollment, and an apology for that enrollment ultimately coming to nothing. Cecilia expressed gratitude for Cloud’s understanding about her leaving and spoke of her improving health, how she’d mustered the strength to write him, the kindness of her hosts. She promised more letters in the future.

Cloud finished reading and cast his gaze to the clear, blue sky beyond his windows. The doubts that had plagued him seemed farther away than that docile firmament.

After a brief moment of reprieve, he fetched his stationery from the desk. “Now, what to write…”

In that moment, the beleaguered man’s heart was at peace.

Chapter 15:
Into the Uovo del Mago

“GENTLESISTER, PLEASE, ALLOW ME. YOU should go rest.”

“Serena? But…”

That night, Melody attempted to clean up after a grand welcome party facilitated by a lavish feast. Hughes and Hubert were still drinking together, but Luciana had gone to bed on account of having school tomorrow. If she had to be up early, that meant Melody did too.

“I said: Rest, Gentlesister,” Serena pressed.

“Sw-sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.” The doll beamed. Blinded by her brilliance, Melody was forced to retreat.

The maid started toward her room. “Honestly, she’s getting more and more like Mother by the day. I certainly didn’t make her that way, so… Oh? Micah.”

“Miss Melody!” The young maid-in-training waited in front of her mentor’s room. She’d been told to retire early so she could sleep off the travel fatigue, but here she was, decidedly not asleep.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, um, just something I wanted to ask about.”

“Ah, right, you did mention that. Come on in.”

“Thank you!”

They entered the room together. It lacked any kind of seating for guests, so they settled on the edge of Melody’s bed.

“What’s this about?” Melody asked.

“This.” Micah held up the winged, egg-shaped ornament around her neck, the Uovo del Mago. “I’ve been wearing this for about two months, but I still don’t have a…partner, or whatever you called it. I’m a little worried about how long it’s taking.”

“Now that you mention it, it has been quite a while.”

“So has it been too long, or what?”

“Well, that’s the tricky thing. I’ve never made something like this before, so I’m not really sure. It’s certainly exceeded my predictions, at the very least. Why would that be?”

“It has to be the monster it ate. What else?”

“Oh!” Melody smacked her fist onto her open palm in revelation. The power of Melody’s Silvershine Raiment had purified the big, dark wolf at the Rudleberg county estate, then the Uovo del Mago consumed it.

“Please don’t tell me you forgot.”

“It’s been, er, rather hectic these past few weeks.”

“Right. There’s been all sorts of chaos lately. Though I prefer to call such chaos ‘Cecilia.’”

“M-my apologies.”

Immediately after they returned from summer recess, the Summer Ball took place. Melody’s hasty enrollment at Royal Academy and even hastier withdrawal instantly followed. The name Cecilia lay at the center of it all. Melody knew painfully well the consequences of her actions and regretted that so many, including Micah, had to endure them.

“I’ll just borrow it for a moment,” she said.

“Be my guest.” Micah relinquished the egg and returned to her room.

After seeing her out, Melody sat again on her bed and examined the ornament. “Let’s see what we can do. Starting where, I wonder?”

Melody had created the Uovo del Mago, in the most literal sense, through song and dance. She possessed no blueprints to pore over or manual to consult. This was more a work of art than an appliance or gadget, an extremely abstract, advanced work of art. Thus it stood to reason that assimilating the wolf had brought about some sort of change, but figuring out exactly what was no simple task. She couldn’t work backward and debug the object like a computer program.

“I need an abstract method to inspect an abstract item,” she deduced. “Like with Fa in Bel Sogno, perhaps.”

Fa in Bel Sogno was a maid magic sleep spell meant to bring sweet dreams to the listener. Melody’s magic fell broadly into two categories: practical and abstract. The bending of light to create the illusion of her black hair via Annerire, for example, used fundamental, scientific laws of reality to achieve a very specific, highly convincing result. On the contrary, Fa in Bel Sogno defied any logical explanation. Though it was based on real world concepts, and indeed influenced by them, no one could ever replicate such a spell in a controlled environment. Its mechanism, assuming you could call it that, was a wish. The result was born of Melody’s heartfelt desires.

The Uovo del Mago, Melody hypothesized, was of the latter category.

The egg reacts to emotion and memory, she thought. With Fa in Bel Sogno, I’ll give image to the life inside, replicate its world.

Clutching the egg in her hands, she shut her eyes and focused on the presence in her palms. It trembled as she suffused it with her mana. Their energies met, mingled, and ultimately resonated.

“Take me unto dreams—Sogni Collegare.”

Suddenly, white light banished the darkness before her. The girl fell softly onto the bed, her breathing going slow and deep as she departed for the world of dreams.

“Did it work?” Melody blinked her eyes open against the brilliance as it waned.

White. White above, below, as far as the eye could see, everywhere. Pure nothingness, like an empty map in a video game, awaiting assets. Melody looked to her left. To her right. Nothing. No life inside the egg, nor any sign of the wolf it had consumed.

After it spent so long resonating with Micah, I would expect to see something of her, some reflection, she thought. Worry prickled in Melody’s mind. Though there was no sign of danger, the Uovo del Mago was clearly malfunctioning, and she couldn’t leave it with the girl in this state.

“Something’s wrong,” she muttered. “I have to find out what. Flight—Ali da Angelo.”

Angelic wings sprouted from the maid’s back, and she took flight in the void. Even in this dreamlike state, it seemed her powers responded as always.

Melody examined her surroundings from up high but discovered only disappointment. “I’ll have to keep looking.”

She flew forward. North, for all intents and purposes.

“Nothing. So much nothing.”

She flew for a dozen minutes and found nothing but white. A few times, she nearly forgot which way was up. Already, she was beginning to doubt the feasibility of scouring an environment as utterly featureless as this.

Melody landed. She needed a new approach. She shut her eyes and felt the mana around her. This was the Uovo del Mago, a magical creation, so wherever its core lay, there she would find mana. It was as good a target as any.

Melody focused for a long while before giving up with a sigh. “Nothing. Gosh, I really am lousy at detecting mana.”

The ironic downside of Melody’s immense supply of magical energy was that, because of the sheer difference in scale, she struggled greatly with finding mana in others, in much the same way one might fail to notice an ant beneath their foot. It had been quite an ordeal just perceiving what meager mana her lady possessed, but Melody hadn’t given up then, and she wouldn’t give up now. She wasn’t that kind of maid.

She raised her head and shut her eyes again, holding her hands in front of her chest. She inhaled. Exhaled. Her body radiated silver energy.

“Propogate—Magi-Ecolone.”

In one great motion, she cast her arms out, ejecting a tidal wave of silver mana in all directions, not unlike the echolocation bats used to hunt. Simply by emitting sounds, they could ascertain location, distance, size, and much more. Animals used their voice. Humans used technology. Melody was using her own mana. One way or another, she would find that core. She’d done something similar when detecting mana in Luciana, but on a much smaller scale. She couldn’t know how far this void extended, so she spared no effort.

To great success.

“There!” Melody’s mana detected something. “About fifty kilometers away to the south.” Not bothering to hide her annoyance, she turned. Had she not thought to use the spell, she might have languished forever. “I should have thought to try this earlier, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

In truth, she’d forgotten about the spell’s existence until just then. As useful as it was for locating the mystical cores of arbitrarily fashioned relics, it wasn’t a technique she often employed. Or could employ. In the real world, any mage would notice the moment a wave of mana collided with them. It was perhaps the best spell in her arsenal for accurately assessing her surroundings, but came at the cost of subtlety, and that was a lethal drawback when one sought to hide their powers from the world.

“Flight—Ali da Angelo.”

Wings sprouted anew, and Melody took off toward the relative south. A ways down, she spotted something: a white, oblong, egg-like protuberance at least ten meters in length. A strange sort of viscous fiber-like spider web affixed it to the ground. Through its semiopaque surface, she spied the silhouette of some kind of entity. Judging by the number of limbs, she figured it was an animal.

Is that the wolf? she wondered as she circled the strange object. It appeared safe enough.

“Maybe if I touch it…” Melody placed her hand against the shell, but nothing happened. Still, the task before her was clear. “I’m lucid within this dream, which means I can dream within this dream.” Focusing her mind on the life inside the egg, she placed both hands on the shell and spoke the incantation. “Take me unto dreams—Sogni Collegare.”

And so she departed once more for the world within the world within.

Chapter 16:
Strange Dreams

MELODY AWOKE TO DARKNESS THIS TIME. As before, she grew wings and took to the air.

“I’m inside the egg.”

It’s dark, she thought. But not frightening. This is the dark of night.

This dream did not contain the nothing of despair, nor black fear, but it was a curtain nonetheless. The promise of tomorrow lurked behind it. Melody even felt peace here. It was not blinding, this darkness.

She descended. She should not have known where the ground was, but, strangely, she did.

“I thought I might find you here.”

The reason for her certainty lay not far from her: a great, white wolf curled into a restful ball. It was exactly as Melody recalled from the moments before the egg absorbed it. Just as she could somehow still see herself, she could make out the beast perfectly well even in this lightless space.

Melody began to approach but stopped after only a few paces, eyes going wide. “Is that a person?”

A sleeping girl with black hair lay nestled against the wolf’s bosom. She could not have been more than fifteen. Though the wolf obscured all but her face, which was distinctly Japanese, she might have been a junior high schooler.

Who could that be? This is a dream, so perhaps she’s an acquaintance of the wolf?

Focused on the matter of the wolf as she was, Melody had forgotten that there ought to have been some sort of representation of Micah here in the Uovo del Mago, her emotions and memories. That representation lay before her now, the id of Kurita Maika given form. In the moment, however, Melody failed to make the connection. The need for answers sprang to the forefront, so she approached in the hopes that she might ask for them.

Something stopped her. “Ow! A wall?”

A pale, barely visible, honeycomb barrier cut off her final few steps to the wolf. A protective barrier? A firewall of sorts?

“No getting past this. What now?” Melody focused mana into her fingertips, hoping to shatter the barrier with magic, but before she could so much as flick a spark at the wall, a flood of information inundated her mind, all of it about the egg. “What in the world?!”

Knowledge filled the maid’s mind, as if she were being forced to download it from a database. Suddenly, she understood that the wolf caused the egg to malfunction by merging with it, intimately. To scrub the wolf would be to destroy the Uovo del Mago. They were one, but the relationship was symbiotic, the wolf imparting far higher functioning to the egg than Melody could have ever predicted. For reasons unknown, egg and wolf had taken to each other. Consequently, however, the added complexity extended the gestation period, so to speak, thus the delay in the egg’s hatching.

Melody removed her hand from the barrier. It took her some time to catch her breath and recover from the shock. “At least Micah’s safe,” she sighed in relief. “That much is clear.” Some feeling she couldn’t quite describe told her to trust the information she’d just received.

Was it you who told me all this? She regarded the sleeping wolf and its partner. She wished she could go to them, but she understood now that the barrier must remain. It was part of the egg, a defensive measure that protected the wolf. Destroying it would harm the Uovo del Mago.

It’s probably thanks to this wall that the wolf is exactly as I remember, she supposed. Without it, the wolf might lose itself and its purpose, instead being reborn as Micah’s familiar. Knowing this, Melody knew she could not disturb it. Must not. You wished so badly to go “back” to where you belonged. Home. And yet you stayed. You must have a reason. I only wish I could ask what it is… Hm?

There was a crack, like a fissure opening in a wall. Light seeped into the dark void. Looking up, Melody discovered many such fissures spreading across what amounted to the ceiling. Beams like sunlight breaking through clouds poked through them.

“Sogni Collegare is destabilizing,” she realized. Her spell’s time was up; the dream was ending. Soon, she would wake.

More rumbling and crackling sounded behind her. She turned just in time to watch a great crevice open out of nothing. Several smaller rifts spread from it like a fractal. She couldn’t stay here and would have to save her questions for next time—assuming the subjects of her questioning would be awake to answer her. Melody sighed, exhausted.

“Tindalos is near,” a voice boomed behind her. “I smell its stench. Take great care.”

“What?” Melody whirled toward the barrier. Every second, more rifts opened. More light poured in. Amid this crumbling world, the girl slumbered on, but the white wolf’s eyes were fixed on the maid. Though it was incapable of human expression, Melody felt that it was smiling at her.

“There is a girl as well,” the wolf said. “A girl in dire need of the Saint’s help. Forsake her not.”

Just then, the largest fissure of all rent the sky, consuming the wolf, and then Melody. She shut her eyes tight as the light blinded her.

The maid’s eyes fluttered open as the radiance faded. There was no void here, neither of light nor darkness. She was in her room at the Rudleberg estate. Her hand shook, and as her fingers uncurled, the Uovo del Mago revealed itself. Here was the source of the shaking. From these context clues, she deduced that her dream walk had taken the whole night.

The egg ceased shaking, and Melody rose. She stared at the egg for several moments before casting her eyes to the window. Her stomach sank.

“Oh good lord, the sun is up!” she cried. “I overslept!” Indeed, it was long past her usual waking time. “Okay, freshen up. Fix my hair. Did I bathe last night? I didn’t bathe last night! Confound it all!”

She hadn’t performed a single step of her nightly routine. She’d cast Sogni Collegare still in her uniform, and in her uniform she had slept. Working in such a state was not an option.

“Oh, forget it! This is an emergency. Spick-and-span—Lavanemergenza!” Shining bubbles of light surrounded her, then burst, leaving her uniform instantly spotless and free of wrinkles. Melody’s skin was clear, her hair shimmering as if freshly washed. In an instant, the maid had refreshed herself.

She hurried to the kitchen. “Good morning, everyone!”

“Good morning, Miss Melody,” Micah said.

“Morning,” Rook grunted.

“You’re not usually this late,” Micah said.

“So sorry about that,” said Melody. “Inspecting the Uovo del Mago threw my sleep schedule into disarray.”

“Any discoveries?”

“To make a long story short, I think it will be some time yet before it hatches.”

“That’s the opposite of what I wanted to hear,” Micah whined. “It’s not dangerous or anything, is it?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no. I’d like to hold on to it for a little longer if that’s okay, though. There’s more I want to investigate.”

“Sure. Do what you need to do.”

“That I shall.”

I need to go back in tonight and find out what the wolf was talking about, Melody thought. But right now, there’s work that needs doing. Wait.

“Micah,” she said, “where is Serena? Cleaning?”

“Actually, I haven’t seen her. Maybe it’s just a sleepy morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen both of you sleeping in at the same time before.”

“Serena? Sleeping in? Stay here and continue as you were. I’m going to check on her.”

Micah assented, and Melody hurried to the doll’s room.

The pain! Confound it, the pain!

Agony. Agony unlike any she had ever felt or imagined. Agony beyond words. Serena could only scream.

“You’re almost there! Push! You’re doing great!”

She pushed, and screamed, and pushed, and screamed, until finally, all at once, the agony ended. Then came the crying.

“It’s a girl. A beautiful baby girl. You did wonderful.”

It’s finally over… She’s here… Our child…

After agony came elation. Barely hanging on to consciousness, Serena floated atop a wave of elation unlike anything she’d ever felt. Elation beyond words. The elderly midwife at her side gazed at the new life Serena birthed, freshly swaddled in white, as if it were her own granddaughter. It cried no more and now lay sound asleep.

The midwife smiled at Serena. “Look. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Take her. Go on.”

Serena pulled her weary body into an upright position and held the babe, her child. Her wrinkly face would come to resemble Serena’s own in time, but for now, there was only her hair. Her thin, silver hair.

“Just like your father’s,” she breathed.

“How is she?!” a man blurted, crashing into the room. “By the king, she’s beautiful!”

“Lord Hubert!” the midwife snapped. “Put a sock in it or I’ll do it for you!”

“R-right. Excuse me.” Hubert’s massive body somehow shrank to the size of a pea at the elderly woman’s reprimand.

“Thank you for visiting, my lord,” Serena said.

“Please, you did all of the work. I’m just glad to see you both in good health. She really is beautiful, though.”

“Her father would be flattered to hear that,” the mother giggled weakly.

“Why, she takes after you! Have you decided on a name? You agonized for some time, as I recall.” The man gently stroked the baby’s cheeks as he spoke.

Serena smiled, her heart at once warmed by this moment and aching thanks to the absence of the man she wished were there instead. It was a loneliness she hid well. “I have.”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense.”

Serena looked lovingly at her daughter as she replied, “Celesty.”

“Serena? Serena, are you awake?”

The doll’s eyes shot open. She rose from the bed, her arms feeling oddly light, as though bereft of some weight she expected to hold. “A dream…?”

The realization left her conflicted. A dream? Such joy and elation. Could it really be just a dream?

“Serena?” Melody continued to call. “Are you still sleeping?”

“I-I’m sorry, Gentlesister. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“Oh, good. You’re up. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Of course.”

Serena readied herself for the day swiftly. Strange. Very strange, all of this, she thought with reddened cheeks as she threw on her uniform. To dream of giving birth to Gentlesister. What in heaven’s name brought that on?

She knew of Melody’s true name, Celesty. But to her, Melody was a creator. It was beyond strange that she should dream of their roles reversed.

And Lord Hubert was there too. Perhaps yesterday’s events are to blame. Another wave of heat afflicted her face. She remembered the suddenness of his embrace. The feeling of his chest. Its warmth. The more vividly she recalled it, the hotter her face burned. Yes, that must be it. It’s because he mistook me for Madam Selena. Goodness, Gentlesister. You might have spared some effort in fashioning me.

It all felt so real, but she could not ponder it while there was work to be done. Her preparations complete, the doll left her room.

Chapter 17:
Growing Frustrations

“WE’RE OFF, UNCLE.”

“Take care, Luciana.”

Melody and Luciana returned to Royal Academy on the day following Hubert’s arrival, October 12th. Hubert would stay at the capital estate for some time, discussing the rebuilding of the county estate with Hughes. He had plans to remain until at least the end of the Festival Ball and leave by the first snowfall at the latest.

“I hope Lord Hubert gets to see what your class has in store,” Melody said aboard the carriage.

“I’ll show him the best service that’s ever been served!” Luciana proclaimed. “He won’t know what hit him!”

“Another mysterious idiom. I think you’re using that one incorrectly, my lady.”

Classes ended, ushering in the after-school hours. Today marked the first full week since preparations for the Festival Ball began. Class A had come together quite well under Olivia’s leadership, and with Ciestine and Celedia acting as liaisons with the student council through the committee, things were proceeding smoothly. Word that the prince and the perfect lady would be waiting on clientele as butler and maid had spread to the other classes, and a buzz of excitement gripped the academy.

Things were looking up for Class A, and morale among its students was high—with one exception.

“Thank you all for coming,” Carol greeted her costuming team. “Now, let’s get right to work.”

Hands and feet flew into action. The time had come to take all of the prospective maids’ and butlers’ measurements. The former had gathered in the tailoring room, while the men had gone elsewhere. With the final designs decided upon and approved, the real work could begin.

“I’ll just be taking a few measurements, Your Highness.”

“By all means,” Ciestine replied.

“Pardon me, Lady Celedia.”

“Of course,” she replied.

The room was abuzz with students, but committee and student council members got first priority. They were the busiest, after all.

“I’ll be seeing to your measurements, my lady.”

“But, Melody, don’t you already know them?” Luciana protested. Understandably so. The maid had sewn every one of the lady’s dresses. What need did she have for all this rigmarole?

“An adolescent young lady like yourself is always changing. One can never be too careful.”

“Is that a long-winded way of saying I’ve gained weight?”

“It is a long-winded way of saying you’ve grown, my lady.” Melody grinned at the pouting lady. “You’re taller than when I first met you, you know. I’ve been careful to adjust your clothing appropriately.”

“Really? I guess I never noticed.” Luciana giggled with excitement.

Melody smiled. “So again, I’ll be seeing to your measurements. Let’s begin, shall we?”

“Yeah!”

The task proceeded apace, pairs chatting all the while.

“That will be all, Your Highness. Thank you for humoring us.”

“I’m looking forward to the finished product,” Ciestine said. The entire process had taken no more than twenty minutes.

“All done, Lady Celedia. Thank you.”

“Oh, okay,” Celedia said. “Keep up the good work.” She glanced at the princess, who’d been right next to her but was now on her way out. “Let me join you, Your Highness.”

“Finished as well, are you?” Ciestine said. “I’m off to attend a meeting for the committee, so I’m afraid I’m in a hurry. You’re joining them in the classroom, yes? Let’s rendezvous another time.”

“Oh. Of course. Pardon me.”

“Nothing to pardon, my lady. Until next time.”

“Goodbye…”

Since she became vice-chairman, Ciestine’s duties centered largely around the nighttime soiree, while Celedia’s focused on the daytime matinee. Despite serving on the Festival Ball Committee together, they saw less and less of each other as preparations progressed. Celedia stared longingly at the door through which the princess left.

“Um, excuse me, Lady Celedia, but we have others to measure,” her classmate said.

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

The forlorn lady saw herself out. Alone and dispirited, she trudged down the hall and out into an open-air walkway. There, and only once she was sure she was alone, she heaved a heavy sigh.

Why does the princess elude me?! she screamed silently, head hanging and fists clenched. Cognizant of the unwritten social rule that discouraged howling in public, she pantomimed a voiceless roar of rage at the ground. It makes no sense! Joining the committee with her should have closed the distance between us, not elongated it! According to Leah, this was the path to the most interactions with Schroden. Evidently, this was not the case with Ciestine, and the reason for it lay in Ciestine’s unexpected self-nomination for the chairman position. Even with her demotion to vice-chairman, Ciestine’s new duties robbed Celedia of her opportunity for conquest.

The Festival Ball was aptly named. It’s latter half, arguably the main event, took the form of a ball, the arranging of which fell largely on the chairmen. That included Ciestine. This, in turn, left Celedia to field her class’s matinee-related requests and questions all by her lonesome and opened a great rift between the lady and the princess, each ensnared as they were by their respective duties.

I don’t understand! How does this happen? Is the woman the problem? Leah’s memories called for a Rordpier prince, not a princess. I thought she would play the role in his stead, but clearly not. She’s gone off script. So is she not a traversable route? Curses, I haven’t the energy for these riddles.

Another sigh left her lips, one of resignation. The entity inhabiting Leah’s body had spent the past several weeks since the Summer Ball playing the gentle, ephemeral beauty, just as the girl had always wished, but things were not going to plan. Celedia was beside herself. She was precious. Vulnerable. Desirable. She’d forced herself to study and get involved in the committee. And for what?

Have I always been so ineffectual? The entity remembered meeting the girl. Leah. It remembered being Tindalos, eighth vessel of the Sangreal Project. I used to be imposing. Powerful.

Yet it had failed to make an impression at the Summer Ball. Its beasts had been bested. When enrolling at the academy, it faded into the background thanks to the two titans who also enrolled at that time. It failed catastrophically on the pop quiz, and fared no better on midterms. And joining the committee hadn’t provided the opportunities it should have. Celedia had honed in on Ciestine from the beginning, but still the girl was no closer to her heart than any of their other classmates. Nothing Celedia did seemed to earn her anything but platonic interest.

Granted, things have only just begun, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it thought. Despite brazenly stealing the moniker of Dark One from Vanargand in a fit of pettiness, it yet languished in obscurity.

At times, Tindalos doubted its course and the notion that it could conquer Ciestine at all. Her arrival was significant, to be sure, but Leah’s memories said that Schroden was the one to mark, so perhaps that held true even now. It was possible. But who else could Celedia realistically pursue? One of her classmates immediately sprang to mind.

Crown Prince Christopher von Theolas.

No, she thought. She couldn’t possibly tear him and Anna-Marie Victillium apart. Yet… Loath as I am to admit it, my understanding of human society and relations is insufficient. My words and wit aren’t yet sharp enough, and enforcing my will with magic comes at too great a physical cost to this body.

That left Maxwell, Lect, and Bjork, but her relationship with Ciestine was downright intimate compared to what she had with those men. She wouldn’t know where to begin, if she could even locate Bjork.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

It should have been a simple transaction. Fulfill its part of the bargain with Leah, obtain a subservient vessel. Tindalos had been wrong. The game was far from over, but it had made very little progress since it began playing, and it could stifle its frustration no longer.

“Damn it all!” Celedia kicked a pebble with all her might, a very human gesture and not at all cause for suspicion. She allowed herself this. Perhaps she should not have. “Ow!”

The pebble collided with a pillar, then drew a perfect, almost purposeful arc right back to her forehead. Celedia doubled over, clutching the red welt. Thankfully, the pebble was small enough that it didn’t do any real harm, but then again, if it had been bigger it would not have flown far enough to hit her in the first place. She could not have even that silver lining. It was simply not Celedia’s day.

To hell with unwritten social rules, she decided. Celedia growled, snatched up the damnable pebble, and suffused it with mana, dark, creeping, and oddly pliant. Negative energy, sensitive to the girl’s volatile emotional state, coated the rock like a caustic ooze.

“Making a fool of me is the last mistake you’ll ever make!” Celedia hurled the puny thing at its accomplice, the pillar, expecting to embed it in the support. “You’ll rue the day you thought to attack me!” She started to cackle, but abruptly cut herself off. “Huh?”

The pebble did not embed itself in the pillar. Rather, it collided, held there for a moment, and ricocheted.

“What?! Why?!”

For a mercy, it did not target her face this time. Instead it hit the roof of the walkway, where it stopped again before rocketing back to the ground. Celedia shrieked. The pebble continued its journey back to the pillar, then the roof, then the ground, bouncing endlessly, somehow managing to find something new to interrupt its path every time instead of flying safely outside.

“What’s happening?!”

When a furious Celedia infused the pebble with her mana, she’d neglected to do so with conscious purpose. Thus, it manifested that rage in the form of the world’s bounciest ball, and its path of destruction wouldn’t end until the mana had run its course. Given her fragile state, Celedia couldn’t put much into it, but it was only a pebble, and it didn’t take much to supply kinetic energy. The result: The rock was still bouncing. Miraculously, it had not left the breezeway yet. Also miraculously, it hadn’t collided with her, though it came close several times and was moving so fast she could do nothing to stop it. If it did come into contact with her, doubtless it’d leave far more than a little red welt behind this time.

“I have to get out of here,” she whimpered. “I have to—”

This resolution came too late. Her luck ran out, and the pebble shot straight for her. At this speed, it could do some serious damage, but she was powerless to stop it in this form. She could do little but shut her eyes and await the consequences of her actions.

Not like this! Not like this! Celedia’s final words echoed in her mind. An instant passed. Then a second. A third. No impact came.

“What…?”

She opened her eyes. Something obscured her vision—the back of a hand. A man’s hand.

“Are you hurt, Lady Celedia?”

“Prince Christopher?”

The hand fell, and he smiled at her. She glanced down at his hand to find it trembling.

She blanched. My mana. Has he seen my mana?!

“H-how long have you been there, Your Highness?”

“Not long,” the prince replied. “I was passing by when I saw something fly toward you, and I rushed to stop it.”

He’d finished with his measurements and left to attend to other business back in the classroom. It was on his way there that he happened to spot Celedia in danger. In his hurry to save her, he hadn’t thought to move her or simply block the object. Instead, he’d caught it with his bare hand.

“I see. I must apologize, Your Highness. I threw that, and it shot right back at me.”

“Then you have an impressive arm, I must say.” Christopher winced.

“Y-Your Highness!”

It was no small thing to stop what was basically a speeding bullet. The pain must have been excruciating. The prince let his hand fall limp, the pebble rolling out. Barren. Bereft of every drop of mana.

He only saw the very end, Celedia thought. My cover is safe.

Relief washing over her, the girl frantically took his hand. Beads of blood oozed from his palm. “You need medical attention! Come, Your Highness. I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

“Only a flesh wound. It’ll heal in time.”

“You were hurt because of me. That’s cause enough for concern. Come. No arguments.” Playing the perfect part of an obliged young lady, Celedia pulled the prince along by his uninjured hand.

“Er, well, thank you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied without turning to face him. “You saved me.”

Christopher was quite glad to be of service. Save the pretty damsel in distress! Mission complete! Affection up! Am I good or what?

If only the boy’s mind weren’t addled by his own brand of video game logic.

Celedia, oddly enough, was on the same page. Perhaps I can use this to stage an attempt on his heart. A clandestine trip to the infirmary is sure to boost his affection for me.

It just so happened she was in the market for insurance in the event her Ciestine endeavors failed. Unfortunately for the prince, Tindalos was not given to swooning the way a normal girl might have.

Christopher winced again.

“Does it hurt?” Celedia asked.

“Only a little.” He smiled in an attempt to hide his suffering. His wound throbbed strangely.

Probably nothing, he thought optimistically. Paper cuts hurt like a mother, and those aren’t anything a trip to the infirmary can’t clear up.

He didn’t know of the mana coating the pebble. He could not have felt it as it transferred to his palm and then into his open wound. Christopher did not know. And neither did Celedia, for that matter.

There was screaming. And shaking. So much shaking. His friend shrieked in his ear. He cried with her. But he wouldn’t let go.

“It’ll be okay!” he promised. “It’ll be okay!”

He lied. Everything went white.

Christopher woke violently, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. He rose to find it dark outside.

“Been a while since I had a nightmare.” He raised his hand to peel away the bangs clinging to his forehead and winced. “This thing better heal fast. Wish it’d been my left hand. Whatever. Back to sleep.”

It was far too late for a bath, so he dropped back into bed. Not long later, sleep enveloped him once more. This time, it was peaceful.

The prince checked his wound again the next morning, and to his great relief, discovered it largely healed. At the very least, the skin had mostly closed up.

“Won’t be out of commission all week,” he muttered. Grabbing his bag with his left, unwounded hand, he departed for school.

Celedia spotted him and trotted over the moment he entered the classroom. “Good morning, Your Highness. How is your hand?”

“Good morning, Lady Celedia. Very well, actually.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“What’s this about your hand? Were you hurt?” a very dignified, very familiar voice cut in. It was Anna-Marie, no doubt itching to deliver a verbose rant about taking better care of himself.

Christopher turned to her, but the moment he did, his head spun. What the…?

The prince shuddered. The sight of Anna-Marie elicited unfamiliar feelings in him, feelings of hatred. He wanted her gone. He wanted nothing to do with her. From what dark recesses these alien sentiments had arisen, he couldn’t even begin to guess, but they festered all the same.

“His Highness injured his right hand protecting me,” Celedia said.

“He did?” Anna-Marie made to inspect the wound for herself.

Christopher shook her off coldly.

“I…” Anna-Marie hesitated, confused.

Christopher gaped, just as surprised at himself, and looked away. “Sorry. It still stings.”

“O-oh. I see. My apologies then, Your Highness.”

“It’s all right. Nearly healed entirely just overnight.” Christopher said no more and made his way to his seat.

“I’m sorry, Lady Anna-Marie,” Celedia said. “It’s my fault.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the case. You’ve nothing to apologize for.” Anna-Marie smiled to reassure the girl, but that grin was clearly a mask.

That didn’t seem to me like his hand was hurting, she thought. That was… She could think of no other explanation but the corruption event. I don’t know what’s forcing all these things to happen, but something is out there influencing events. It has to be.

She had to speak with Christopher, but she would not get the chance that day. Christopher made sure of that himself.

Chapter 18:
Reunion Rerun

CHRISTOPHER LANGUISHED. LOCKED IN A darkness so profound it reduced him to a mere consciousness adrift, pain was all he knew. It radiated from where his right arm ought to have been like a million needles digging into his skin. When he tried to touch them, the needles resisted, pricking his fingers. Intense pressure bore down on him, like barbed wire digging harder and harder into his flesh. Pain. Mounting, inescapable pain.

“Not a fan of this nightmare. I’m ready to wake up now.”

This lucidity alone held the prince’s sanity together, but it numbed the pain little if at all. He couldn’t move. It was as if something weighed down his entire body, and he could do nothing but stare into the void. Then a spark caught his eye, a square of light like a television flickering to life. Scenes played out before his eyes.

“I’ll thank you to keep your distance from my fiancée, you witch!”

“I-I meant no offense.”

“Anna-Marie, please.”

“Whose side are you on?! You’ll fly to her defense but not your own future wife’s?!”

On the television, he watched himself and Anna-Marie and a third girl with silver hair whom he didn’t recognize play out a vignette of envy.

Hey, that’s Anna, he thought. Yikes, girl.

She was positively rabid, snapping at any and every woman who dared approach her property. Christopher looked fed up with the charade.

“Can’t blame the guy. If my Anna were like that, well, she’d be someone else’s to say the least.”

He grimaced as the pain redoubled. The wire constricting his arm wound tighter. Thanks to the light of the “television,” he could finally glimpse what afflicted him, but he immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Hell.”

It was no wire. Instead, plantlike brambles wound around his arm. And they were growing right before his eyes.

“Hell,” he said again. What was this? What manner of dream?

Christopher faced the screen again. He saw himself this time, exactly where his friend had warned him he’d end up if he wasn’t careful. He’d fallen. Was corrupted. The girl with the silver hair shouted something, but the prince raised his sword, heedless of her cries.

“That’s what happens to me? Threatening women’s not a good look. God, screw that.”

He blinked. In that instant, the screen changed. He, Christopher, changed. Kurita Hideki now held the blade.

Then he woke up.

“Hell…”

“Your Highness, a moment of your time?”

“You’re disturbing me, Lady Victillium.”

Anna-Marie’s attempts at soliciting the prince were not going well. Christopher had snubbed her yet again that morning in favor of his book, and their classmates were beginning to notice his change in attitude toward her. They wanted to question him, but this acute onset of standoffishness extended to more than just his de facto fiancée.

Christopher knew something was wrong with him, but the desire to address it was fading, slipping away a little more each day. Every time he attempted to indulge his better judgment, to confide in Anna-Marie about the changes happening in him, the thought of associating with her disgusted him. He wasn’t doing an excellent job at hiding his unfounded hatred of her, even at the student council, and committee meetings had become horribly strained affairs. It had yet to drastically affect their work, but the royal couple’s peers were eager for them to bury the hatchet.

“What ails you, Your Highness?” asked Ciestine after one particularly difficult meeting. The others pricked up their ears.

Christopher furrowed his brow. “What are you implying?”

“You’ve been taut as a wire this past week. I was simply wondering if there was something on your mind.”

“There isn’t.”

“Lady Anna-Marie would beg to differ, I think.”

“Princess Ciestine.” Christopher silenced her with a bitter lashing of the tongue. “Do not meddle in things that do not concern you.”

“Very well. My apologies.”

Ciestine left him. It’s unlike the prince to be so rash, she thought. Something must have happened between him and Lady Anna-Marie, but she hardly seems the type to make a misstep deserving of such ire. Regardless, the crown prince’s sudden deterioration put a damper on the imperial princess’s goal of standing out. If she wanted to facilitate espionage elsewhere in the capital, she needed to make a spectacle of herself. Instability is all well and good, but in due time. This is a troubling development.

Christopher left the meeting room without a word to anybody else. Anna-Marie watched him go but made no effort to follow. Maxwell did so in her place. Tense silence fell over those who remained.

Trouble in paradise, eh? This is exactly what I need. Celedia had to make a concerted effort not to snicker in public.

“Talk to me. Please.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Christopher did not stop for Maxwell, paying him no more mind than the lock of hair he brusquely flicked back.

“Have you and Lady Anna-Marie had a dispute?”

“I said nothing’s wrong.”

“You do not act like it. You’re not yourself.”

“‘Myself,’ you say. I’m angry, Maxwell.”

“Angry? Angry at who?”

“Anna-Marie. The sight of her makes my blood boil. I hate being near her. I can’t control myself.” Christopher hyperventilated as he spoke. “I can’t stand her. That woman. That vile, jealous, moronic…”

“What are you saying? Listen to yourself. Jealous? Moronic? You can’t possibly mean Lady Anna-Marie.”

“But I do. Anna-Marie. She’s…” The prince groaned and gripped his right hand. Had it not healed yet?

“Are you in pain?”

“Don’t touch me!” Christopher swatted Maxwell away.

Maxwell struggled to connect the pale, twisted face before him with his friend.

“I’m sorry,” Christopher said. “I’m fine. I just need a moment alone to cool my head.”

“I-if you insist.”

Christopher continued on his way. Maxwell didn’t follow.

“Jealous. Moronic. That’s what His Highness called me?”

“I’ve no idea where such words came from. It isn’t like him at all.” Maxwell had just finished relaying his experience to Anna-Marie.

Those are things that describe the Anna-Marie from the game, she thought. He’s confusing the two of us. This doesn’t make sense. At this point, Anna-Marie, with her prophetic knowledge of the setting, was all but certain they’d reached the corruption event. But where did he come into contact with the Dark One? And why is it happening like this? It’s not responsibility or inadequacy consuming him. It’s like he’s seeing me as someone I’m not.

“Do you suppose this has to do with what we spoke of?” Maxwell whispered. He referred to the Dark One.

“It’s possible, but nothing is certain.”

“Can I be of any help at all?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I would even have you do. We have the day off tomorrow. I’ll see about speaking with him personally.”

“Will you have the chance?”

“I can only try.”

What’s happening to me?

Ever since the nightmares began, Christopher’s hatred for Anna-Marie had grown to untenable levels, springing forth from no source he could identify. He had no reason to hate her, yet something was telling him to, rewriting the things he knew about her.

That’s how she is. That’s how I remember… No! It’s not! Christopher shook his head as he continued down the hall. He’d come a long way with her. He knew the kind of person she was. She might have technically been the villainess, but she was trying to save the world. They both were.

I know that. I know all that. But every time I see her, my thoughts aren’t my own. He sighed. This isn’t right. I need to talk to… Right. Not happening. Damn it, I’m going in circles.

Christopher heaved another sigh as he rounded a corner. At the same time, something small clattered to the floor and rolled to his feet, a silver, winged egg hanging from a necklace. He picked up the pendant.

“What’s—” He yelped. The moment he touched it, it began to shake. His first instinct was to fling it away, assuming it was some kind of strange insect, but he just barely managed to cling to common sense and keep from doing so.

This being a corner, it was only a matter of time before something else bumped into him. And it did. A girl, by the sound of her shrill voice, a girl who crashed into the prince and landed flat on her rear.

“That hurt…”

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Christopher asked.

“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Christopher offered his hand to the girl—to the maid, actually. As he helped her to her feet, an intense sensation of déjà vu tilted reality off its axis. The maid experienced it too, it seemed. Their eyes widened at each other.

“Prince Christopher?”

“I know you,” he said. “This isn’t our first time bumping into each other in a hallway, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. I’m a Rudleberg maid, Your Highness.” She smiled. “My name is Melody, and you have my sincerest apologies for my rudeness then and now.”

Christopher flashed back to their first meeting during the opening ceremony in spring, and he chuckled. I was waiting around for the heroine, but she’s the one I ran into instead. Literally.

“It’s ancient history,” he said. “What brings you here today? Assisting Lady Luciana?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m delivering documents to Lady Olivia, to be precise.”

“I see. I take it this is yours?” Christopher held up the egg-shaped pendant.

“Oh, yes! It is. I tripped and lost my grip, and it got away from me.” A blush lit Melody’s cheeks.

That cemented Christopher’s impression of the girl. Clumsy. “Here. Careful not to drop it again.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course. And do be mindful of corners.”

The maid answered sheepishly before hurrying on her way.

“Forgot to ask her what that thing was,” the prince murmured. He swore he’d felt it vibrate, but perhaps he’d imagined it.

Not out of the question with the state I’m in, he figured. My brain must be all out of… Wait. But I was normal with her. Huh?

Christopher whipped around, but the maid was already gone.

Sometime earlier, Melody strode down the hall carrying an armload of documents. Carol had asked her to deliver them to Olivia. Costuming’s job involved more than simply sewing. They had to keep records of expenses, materials, et cetera, and they had to submit those records regularly. This was unfortunate for Carol, who struggled with academics, math not least of all. It took the combined efforts of many of her classmates to get her to complete the necessary paperwork, but such work always drained her spirit, so the task of delivering the records inevitably fell to another.

All that to say, Melody had assumed the role of a courier.

I’d much rather be sewing, but a maid can’t be picky about the work she does, she resolved. Every task deserves my utmost!

On her way to Class A, she took the Uovo del Mago out of her pocket and examined it. She hadn’t yet returned it to Micah. She figured she could do that when they returned to the estate that weekend, as the pendant’s slow progress currently ranked rather low on her list of worries.

I wonder why the egg won’t let me inside anymore. Sogni Collegare had shown her the egg’s inner world when first she set about investigating it, but the spell no longer worked. Nothing seemed to bring her back to where she’d gone that first night. Something tells me the barrier I encountered is acting as a sort of firewall, keeping me from accessing the egg. Maybe. There’s no way to know, really.

Melody couldn’t hope to objectively analyze an abstract creation and enigma of mechanisms. What would become of the egg moving forward? What role did the wolf play in its functioning? All mysteries without answers.

“At least I can be relatively certain it’s safe. I’ll keep trying what I can, and if I have no luck, I’ll just have to return it and tell her to keep a close eye on any—” Melody had made the simplest mistake in the book: not watching where she was walking. As she tripped over nothing, the Uovo del Mago slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor, where it continued to roll around a corner.

“W-wait!”

Melody hurried after it, making the second simplest mistake in the book. She crashed into someone as she turned the corner and fell flat on her rear.

“That hurt…”

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Melody accepted the offered hand and stood. Only then did she realize she recognized her rescuer. “Prince Christopher?”

“I know you,” he replied. “This isn’t our first time bumping into each other in a hallway, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. I’m a Rudleberg maid, Your Highness. My name is Melody, and you have my sincerest apologies for my rudeness then and now.”

“It’s ancient history. What brings you here today? Assisting Lady Luciana?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m delivering documents to Lady Olivia, to be precise.”

“I see. I take it this is yours?” Christopher held up the Uovo del Mago.

“Oh, yes! It is. I tripped and lost my grip, and it got away from me.”

“Here. Careful not to drop it again.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course. And be mindful of corners.”

Goodness, of all the people to see that, it had to be the prince! Melody scurried off, eager to hide her burning face.

Just then, the egg shook.

“Interesting.”

Melody stopped. She thought she’d heard a voice in her head, but perhaps not. All was quiet.

Chapter 19:
A Light Called Hope

ON OCTOBER 17TH, THE SAME EVENING she bumped into the prince in the hall, Melody returned to the Rudleberg estate with her lady. Luciana went off with her family, while Melody made for the kitchen, where she found Micah working.

“Welcome back, Miss Melody.”

“Hello, Micah. Before I forget, the Uovo del Mago.”

“Anything new?”

“I’m afraid not. I know nothing more than what I knew last week. You don’t have to keep wearing it if you don’t want to.”

Imbibing the wolf had changed the item into something not even Melody understood. Though she was fairly certain of its harmlessness, she hesitated to claim there was no possibility of danger at all.

“Well, it’s been fine so far, so I’ll keep hanging on to it, if only to keep an eye on it,” Micah said. “Can I come to you with questions if I have any more?”

“Of course. And please do let me know if you notice any changes.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Micah grinned, compelling Melody to copy her.

That night, Micah slept with the Uovo del Mago around her neck once again, and soundly so. The same could not be said for the egg.

Here we go again.

The darkness swallowed Christopher—or, rather, Kurita Hideki. He wasn’t sure when his appearance reverted to his past life, but he did know this was his sixth night suffering the nightmare.

God, that hurts.

The brambles growing from his right arm now swarmed over his entire body—and they didn’t stop there. As if merely binding him weren’t enough, the cruel appendages grew ceaselessly, taking the form of some great beast with Hideki at its heart. He hung helplessly suspended within, his only solace that the thorns could do no actual physical harm, though they did hurt. They hurt a lot. A single twitch earned him dozens of scratches.

The television screen was still there. Today, it showed him Christopher, his brusqueness toward Ciestine, his cold rejection of Maxwell’s aid.

“Really don’t want this crap shoved in my face.”

Hideki was being transformed into something that wasn’t him, molded by the brambles like a puppet on their thorny strings. He could feel more of himself slipping away every night. It was only a matter of time before the thorns consumed everything.

Figure that’ll be all she wrote.

Dread clenched his gut. When that day came, not even the television would remain, only darkness. What would become of him then? Would he not find more comfort in sleep? Why not shut his eyes now and spare himself the agony?

The brambles grew, sensing his weakness.

Yeah, he thought. A nap’s what I need…

Hideki’s eyes slowly fell shut.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

The world shook. A violent earthquake shoved Hideki out of his sweet reverie. “The hell’s going…on?”

Suddenly, the brambles’ grip on him loosened. Did the earthquake jostle them? Regardless, one by one they fell to the ground, those binding Hideki slackening enough to allow him to slither free.

Hideki waited for the shaking to calm before rising to his feet. Careful not to trip over one of his captors, he made his escape but found one vine still clinging to his ankle.

“Yeah, that’d be too easy. What was all that?”

It had happened without warning or explanation. He searched for either, but all he found was a light. Rather, some sort of white figure opposite the television. He’d needed the light of the screen just to see himself, so what exactly was he looking at? Hideki approached to investigate, dragging along his thorny shackle.

Something stopped him. “Ow!” An invisible obstacle blocked his final few steps to the white figure. “What is this?” Well, almost invisible. A pale, faintly glowing, honeycomb wall stood before him. “A barrier? Can’t get through. Damn it, what’s going on?”

Hideki squinted and made out what appeared to be an animal on the other side. “He’s a big boy. That a curled-up cat? Dog? No, wolf? Could be a fox for all I know. Huh?” There in the animal’s bosom he spied something else. Something humanoid. “Is that…? They look familiar.” Indeed, a black-haired junior high school girl of no more than fifteen slept soundly in the wolf’s embrace.

Hideki strained to make out her features. When he did, memories flooded his mind.

“That’s…” He knew this girl. “Maika?”

The girl blinked her eyes open. When she finally noticed Hideki, she instantly lit up. “Oniichan!”

“Maika…” A tear streaked down the boy’s cheek. Fifteen years he’d lived his new life in this new world. He’d nearly forgotten the sound of her voice, but now it rang out clearly, as though springing from his own memories.

A great fissure rent space itself with a crack, and everything went white.

“Take heed. The powers of darkness wield your greatest fears as a blade, and they would slit your throat,” a voice boomed. “Light will be your shield, the light of hope. Speak it to me. What is its name?”

My light is…

Christopher’s eyes went wide. A word hung on his lips—a name, perhaps—but it fled his mind as soon as he thought it.

He rose from his bed. The first rays of sunlight had begun to peek over the horizon, though morning still lay some hours off. Would that he could have watched those rays finish their journey, but a thumping on his roof demanded his attention. A hatch opened in the ceiling, and Anna-Marie dropped into the room wearing an uncertain scowl and some kind of athletic garb like a jockey’s uniform.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, don’t be mad. Can we just talk?”

“Oh, hey, Anna. What’s got you up so early?”

Anna-Marie blinked. For several seconds, she remained speechless. Then she massaged her temples and said, “I take it you’re back to normal?”

“Normal? You know what, I was feeling a little funny before now. Huh. Wonder what changed.”

“Believe me, I would love to know!”

“Volume. Someone’s gonna hear.”

“I already cast Silence. Don’t change the subject! You’re going to tell me everything!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, so…”

And tell her everything he did, from his unfounded hatred to the daily nightmares to…

“You saw Maika-chan?”

“And not much else, unfortunately. She was just kinda there. Didn’t actually get to talk to her.”

“And there was a white wolf,” Anna-Marie mused.

“Does the game have any of those?”

“Not that I know of. There’s a big black wolf, which would be the Dark One. Something tells me the resemblance isn’t a coincidence.”

“Seriously feels like we’re fumbling around in the dark here. The white wolf, Maika, the dreams, the brambles. What was Maika doing there? You don’t think she…you know—”

“Don’t!” Anna-Marie snapped. “Don’t. She wasn’t on that plane. The wolf said your fears were being used against you, so going down this road is exactly how you wind up in the brambles again.”

“R-right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better. Do you have any idea what started all this in the first place?”

Christopher crossed his arms and hummed in thought. Nothing came to mind.

“This started the morning of the 13th,” Anna-Marie said. “You’re telling me absolutely nothing noteworthy happened before then?”

“Noteworthy, noteworthy… I guess I sorta kinda took a nick saving Celedia’s life from a runaway pebble the day before. Hope it leaves a cool scar, but that’s all.”

“She did mention you’d hurt yourself protecting her, didn’t she?”

“Sure did. She threw a rock at a pillar and it shot back at her, apparently. Then I swooped in like bam and snatched it outta the air at the last second. Seriously, though, I’ve seen slower fastballs. Hurt like hell.”

“That’s…odd, but hardly cause for supernatural possession.”

“Was just a pebble, after all. Unless negative mana got in through the wound like an infection or something. That’d explain why the brambles in my dreams started on my right arm.”

“Then our next question is where that mana could have come from.”

“Who else? Celedia! She’s secretly been the Dark One all along and is plotting to take our heads as we speak!”

“By George!” Anna-Marie covered her mouth in shock.

They deflated and sighed, then said together, “Yeah, right.”

“You’ve gotta admit, that’d be a pretty good twist,” Christopher said.

“It’s too contrived. Your injury happened because she threw a rock at a pillar, which you happened to be fast enough to stop, or be there to stop at all. If she wanted to hurt you, there are a million better ways.”

“Hey, I’m just spitballing. It’d totally happen in a game or anime, though.”

Christopher was a very keen prince, but also a very simple one.

“Anyway, what we need to do first is actually confirm if there’s negative mana in your system.” Anna-Marie produced a pair of glasses.

“Your eyes going bad?”

“They’re fake, genius, but the silver isn’t.” She donned the lensless frames. If they could use silver weapons against the Dark One, why not use silver for other magical things? “Let’s take a look. Reveal to me—Analysis Vision.” Anna-Marie gathered mana in her eyes and examined the prince, rather close for his liking. “Yeah, no. Gonna need you to strip.”

“You—huh?!”

Anna-Marie did not wait for an answer before she got to unbuttoning. With his chest bare, she pushed him onto the bed. Christopher fell without resistance, utterly unprepared to unpack the implications this had on their purely platonic relationship. “H-hey—”

“Hush. I’m focusing.”

He hushed. A dozen agonizing, lascivious minutes passed as Anna-Marie pored over every inch of Christopher’s exposed skin until, at last, she rocketed up and declared, “It’s official! There’s dark mana in you! I diagnose you with corruption!”

“Great! Awesome! Now get off!”

“Ah. Sorry.”

Embarrassment flushed hot through Christopher’s body. Anna-Marie also sweated, but simply from how much mana she’d used. Still, she was feeling quite proud of herself, a discrepancy Christopher found aggravating.

After giving them both a moment to collect themselves, Anna-Marie shared her findings. “There’s mana in you that looks almost like thorns. That’s very similar to what happens in the game, so I think we can be confident about what’s going on here.” In the game, Christopher’s corruption manifested as brambles marring his skin, probably a consequence of what Anna-Marie had just observed.

“It was especially intense around my heart,” he said. “That supposed to be symbolic or something?”

“This is serious, you know.”

“Is it? I mean, I’m fine now.”

“Did you forget that there were still brambles around your ankle in the dream?” Anna-Marie said. “That probably means you aren’t completely free yet; you’ve just delayed the onset of the corruption.”

“Dang, okay. By tomorrow am I gonna go back to wanting to rip my ears off every time you say something?”

“Tell me how you really feel, Christopher. No, really. I’m listening.”

“That’s the darkness or whatever talking! The bad mana! Look, anyway, what I wanna know is why my symptoms are manifesting like that at all.”

Anna-Marie pondered this, considering the dreams he’d described and the way he’d acted at the academy. Taken together, what did they indicate? “So the wolf told you that ‘the powers of darkness’ were ‘wielding your greatest fears as a blade.’”

“It did.”

“Put plainly, the dark mana possessing you is amplifying what makes you afraid, drawing it out.”

“And what am I afraid of?”

“Being corrupted.”

Christopher’s eyes widened. Afraid of being corrupted? Him?

“Deep down, part of you is worried about losing yourself,” Anna-Marie said. “The mana is using that anxiety against you.”

“But why would I be afraid of that? It’s got nothing on me.”

“Maybe not you but Kurita Hideki. It’s using your knowledge.”

“Okay. Knowledge of what?”

“Of The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths. It’s showing you that Christopher through your dreams, molding you into him.”

“Game Christopher.”

“When you were Kurita Hideki, you saw him get corrupted. The negative mana has latched on to that experience and is trying to change your feelings and memories to align with it. That’s my theory, at least. Think of it like brainwashing. It’s torturing you with the brambles, force-feeding you the kind of Christopher you’re supposed to be.”

“Okay, well now I’m afraid! How can mana do all that on its own?! Guess they don’t call it the Dark One for nothing.”

“All I can say is I’m glad I’m not in your shoes. Ick, the thought of all that going on inside me makes me sick.”

“Anna-Marie, my beloved! Rescue me!”

“Using my instincts against me,” Anna-Marie grumbled. “I totally might if you were the real Christopher. But hold on. That’s exactly what the mana is trying to do—turn you into him.” Anna-Marie lit up like she’d made the discovery of the century.

“I don’t like where this is going!”

“I was like, twenty percent joking.”

“Don’t like that number either!”

“That was at least thirty percent a joke.”

“You’re terrible at haggling!”

“Oh, relax. You know I wouldn’t let that happen to you. I’d much rather kick that nasty ass—er, slap that mean face you’ve been giving me all week than let the mana have its way with you.”

“Good save. The swearing would have been a bit too far.”

Christopher sagged in defeat, which prompted Anna-Marie to laugh her head off. It had been too long since they got to goof off together like this. In all honesty, Anna-Marie was thrilled to have some normalcy again.

I couldn’t have put together half of what we did to stave off the Dark One if I’d been alone, she thought. He’s a handful, but some things really are easier when someone’s got your back.

“Anyway, we’ve got to be on our guard from now on,” she said. “Starting tomorrow, we’ll throw ourselves into intense preparations for the full-on corruption.”

“What preparations exactly?”

“Honestly, not much. Without the Saint, all we can do against someone who’s possessed is beat them in a straight-up fight.”

Silver worked against the Dark One’s monsters, so it should work against a possessed Christopher. It did when one of the love interests came to the heroine’s aid in the game. Critically, Anna-Marie and Christopher lacked said heroine, but they’d have to work with what they had.

“Think you can actually take me down?” Christopher asked.

“I could probably kill you.”

“Get Maxwell’s help so it doesn’t come to that, please! Just make sure I don’t hurt anyone, okay?”

“Oh, fine. So picky.”

Maxwell would respond to this information with the polite understanding of the frigid north. Mostly because he received this information when it was already far too late.

Micah woke with a yawn. She rose, rubbed her eyes, readied herself for the day ahead, then yawned again, punctuating it with a wakeful pat on her cheeks to stifle a third yawn. She found herself giggling. “Haven’t dreamed about my brother in a long time. Looked just as dumb and confused as I remember.”

The egg at her chest shook.

Chapter 20:
The Fallen Prince

IT WAS OCTOBER 19TH, AND CLASS A WAS ON tenterhooks. Christopher and Anna-Marie’s spat seemingly continued unresolved, even after the weekend. The former had arrived early and was quietly reading a book, while the latter had gone to her seat next to him without a glance in his direction. Even throughout this apparent cold war, they’d never forgone their morning greetings, but the stagnant air between them now produced a chill that froze the rest of the classroom.

Their classmates began to whisper.

“They aren’t even speaking anymore.”

“What could have happened?”

“How will the Festival Ball go on like this?”

“The maid café won’t suffer under Lady Olivia’s leadership, but…”

Amid the din, Anna-Marie chanced a look at the prince. From beneath his book, he wriggled his fingers in signal. Some discomfort, but still in control, she interpreted, then drew a circle on the desk with her finger.

Christopher noted the gesture. Follow the plan. Gotcha. He shut his book and laid it on his desk, indicating he’d received the message.

They’d concocted this system of communication during their meeting the day before. Given Christopher’s state, they could reasonably assume that the Dark One lurked among them. For safety’s sake, they decided it best to continue on as before, so as not to earn its suspicion. For a mercy, Christopher was still lucid enough to carry out their strategy. He just had to hold out until after school, when they could regroup with Maxwell.

The plan was simple: Let the enemy assume all was well so as to lower its guard. This may well have counted as clever if only their enemy had acted with any kind of volition whatsoever and thus had a guard to lower. Unfortunately, Celedia hadn’t made any conscious move on the prince, so the continuation of his strange behavior hardly affected her. In fact, it had the opposite effect.

Celedia witnessed the ostensible rift between the royal couple and silently rejoiced. They’re all but ruined. Now’s my chance! She glanced beneath her desk at the dark energy emanating from her hand. I’ve been brewing this up since yesterday, so it ought not incapacitate me. With this, I will widen the cracks splintering their trust, and I will wield the ensuing doubt as my blade. Yes, I was wrong to assume the humans’ methods. Imposing my will with my awesome power better suits me, Tindalos, the Dark One, than the tedium of words and social rituals. Soon, Leah, you will have what you seek and more. Your own slave to love!

The girl quelled the roiling mana in her palm and waited. Waited for her chance.

Celedia waited so long that school ended.

For crying out loud, they never leave each other’s sides!

The royal couple had given one another the cold shoulder the entire day, all without leaving their desks. Celedia hadn’t had a single opportunity to do anything to Christopher with Anna-Marie glued to the chair next to him.

Thus, the Festival Ball Committee meeting arrived uneventfully.

“We’ll begin with progress reports from each class. Class A, if you would start.”

“O-of course! We, um…” Celedia clambered to her feet and began reading off her notes. The matinee was her job, after all.

I should never have joined this accursed committee!

The meeting went on into the evening, and by the end of it, Celedia slouched with exhaustion. That humans could talk so much about so many things for so long every single day both exasperated her and left her awestruck.

“Worn out, my fair lady?”

“Princess Ciestine,” Celedia replied to the woman sitting next to her. “No, I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” Christopher was her target now, but so long as Ciestine remained an option, she mustn’t forget to be cordial.

“It’s past time I apologized, I think.”

“Apologize? For what, Your Highness?”

“It was my overzealous nomination for chairman that cast all this responsibility at your feet.”

“No, that’s not true at all.”

“I hesitate to call it suitable recompense, but if you like, I could escort you about the Festival Ball matinee when the day comes. Would you do me that honor?”

“D-do you mean it, Your Highness?!”

“That I do. I’m certain we’ll be busy with our duties, but what time I have is yours.”

“I would love that! Thank you! Thank you, Your Highness!”

“Thank you, my lady. Let’s settle the details when the time nears.”

“Of course!”

Ciestine grinned handsomely at Celedia before making her way to the chairman to discuss additional business. Celedia couldn’t care less what they were talking about.

Well, seems I’ve a silver tongue after all! Celedia preened. I’d say I’ll have Her Highness in the palm of my hand ere long. After so many days of duty-bound difficulties, at last, the seeds she had planted were bearing fruit. Celedia was thrilled. Perhaps I needn’t make Prince Christopher mine at all. He’s certainly given me no opportunity. Oh?

Just as Celedia was ready to give up, the prince stood and left the meeting room alone. When the door shut behind him, Celedia stood as well and gave chase.

Gift horses aren’t for looking in the mouth. Yours is a route I shan’t neglect, Your Highness.

Shortly after Christopher and Celedia departed, Anna-Marie found Maxwell. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

“I suppose. In private, do you mean?”

Anna-Marie lowered her voice to a whisper. “With His Highness, I mean. Much has happened, but he’s his normal self now.”

“I see. Very well. Let’s be off.”

“We’ve secured a separate room to meet in. I’ll show you the way.”

They left the committee room and made for their next meeting place, but Anna-Marie paused at the entrance, perplexed.

“What is it?” Maxwell asked.

“His Highness is missing. We were to meet here. Where could he have gone?”

“I presume this means trouble.”

Anna-Marie clutched the chest of her dress. Her heart tried to thud against her fist. “I’m going to search for him.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No. I don’t want to miss him if he does arrive. Please, wait here just in case.”

“As you wish,” Maxwell said. “But report back in no more than thirty minutes.”

“I will.” Anna-Marie left him, then started to run.

You had one job, you idiot! she fumed. Hideki, you absolute moron, you better be okay when I find you, or so help me!

Scant few minutes of sunlight remained. Many students had left campus already but some stayed behind on account of the festival. The aura of celebration had that effect on people. Anna-Marie hurried all the way back to the committee meeting room without seeing any sign of Christopher. She continued down the hall, but still nothing.

“Where?” she breathed. “The classroom?”

Perhaps he’d forgotten something and had to take a detour. It would have been in character. Not for Christopher, but for Kurita Hideki. Leave it to him to lack a sense of urgency at the most critical of moments.

Anna-Marie started toward her new destination, but there she found one lone student standing before classroom windows bathed in the burnished orange light of sunset.

“Lady Anna-Marie?”

“Luciana, is it only you here?” Anna-Marie scanned the room but saw no one else.

“Yes,” Luciana replied. “Lady Olivia left ahead of me and I—well, I was waiting to walk home with Melody.”

“You haven’t seen His Highness, have you?”

“Prince Christopher? No, I can’t say I have.”

“Well, thank you anyway.”

If not here, then where? Anna-Marie thought.

Just then, an explosion like a crack of lightning shook the classroom and the entire academy. Luciana shouted. Anna-Marie cried out. They braced against the desks to keep from toppling over.

The shaking didn’t last long, but it left chaos in its wake.

That can’t have been…

“That sound. It came from the same direction as the tailoring room.” Luciana went pale as a sheet as she looked that direction. “Melody!”

“Luciana! Wait!”

Luciana did not wait. She bolted toward where her maid was dutifully sewing her a dress. Anna-Marie followed at a clip.

There’s only one thing something like this could mean, she thought. Christopher’s been corrupted! For the love of…! You couldn’t wait to do it until after I got Lord Maxwell on board?!

Sometime earlier, Celedia had followed Christopher as he left the committee meeting room. She caught up to him before he managed to reach the room where he would have met up with Anna-Marie and Maxwell.

“Your Highness!”

“Lady Celedia?” Christopher raised an eyebrow. Odd timing. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?”

His guard was down, a consequence of joking with Anna-Marie about suspecting Celedia. So when she offered her hand, he looked without hesitation. Then it covered his eyes.

“What?” was all he could mutter.

“Fall. Into my embrace.”

A day’s worth of carefully amassed mana, fermented for the assimilation of wills, surged into the prince’s eyes directly from Celedia’s hand.

Best to consume either the heart or the eyes when manipulating mortals. Seeing is believing, after all, and they do so love their mysticism regarding the soul, Celedia thought mockingly.

Christopher fought back briefly, but just briefly. There was only so much he could do against such carefully cultivated mana. His mind plummeted into darkness.

The job done, Celedia removed her hand. “You were saying, Your Highness?”

The prince was absent at first. Dazed. When his eyes refocused and he laid them on the girl, they seemed to shine. He fell to one knee. “My lady. Lady Celedia. My love. I hereby swear to hold and to cherish you for all time.”

“I’m flattered, Your Highness. Then would you escort me about the academy? I’d like to go for a walk.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Celedia paraded her new partner, strolling with him at her side. But unfortunately—or fortunately? (It was a matter of perspective, really.) In any case, possibly unfortunately, they reached the walkway leading to the tailoring room without encountering a single other student.

No, no, no! I’m supposed to show everyone that the prince is mine now! Celedia seethed. The audacity of these people to inconvenience me. But the tailoring room isn’t far. That will work just fine. Surely Celedia could find someone still working on the outfits for the café.

“Next, Your Highness, I’d like to visit the tailoring… Your Highness?”

Celedia looked up to find Christopher gritting his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. The hand that was not guiding Celedia clutched his chest.

“Y-Your Highness?! What’s wrong?!”

This shouldn’t be happening. My magic was perfect. He should be my subservient pawn. I filled his being positively to the brim with mana. Why is he in pain? Was it not enough? No, it’s more than enough. Nearly more than one man can take.

Indeed it was. Celedia had miscalculated. She did not know of the mana already circulating within the prince, and so had failed to account for it. Christopher groaned and gasped, throwing aside the girl to claw at his chest with both hands.

“Your Highness!”

The mana is becoming unstable! I have to siphon off the excess before it’s too late!

But it already was. Even as Celedia reached out, the dark mana violently and chaotically coursing through the prince’s system reached a boiling point and burst forth.

“Not—” Good. Before Celedia could speak that final word, a massive shock wave sent the girl flying. She crashed to the ground and rolled helplessly before sagging into a limp heap. Powerful as Tindalos was, the girl it inhabited was frail and soon lost consciousness.

“What… I…” gasped Christopher. “I… What am I…?” He winced. The force of the blast brought him back to his senses, but for how long? His mind was lost and hazy. He couldn’t recall why he was outside any better than he could recall how Celedia had brainwashed him.

Oblivious to the girl lying on the ground behind him, he stumbled onward, head in his hands. Is it happening? Is this what corruption feels like? God, I sound so edgy right now. He struggled to find humor in the situation in order to keep from losing more of himself than he already had. But his resistance wouldn’t last long against the dark mana running rampant within him. Need to get away from people. Need to get somewhere safe.

There was no telling what he might do if he happened on someone in such a state. Not only did he not wish to harm anyone, but the Crown Prince of Theolas hurting his own subjects would leave a permanent scar on his house’s royal authority. He would not hand his brother a damaged legacy, no matter what happened to him. So Christopher forced his rebellious legs onward toward the most deserted, most out-of-the-way place he could find close by.

There, as the last vestiges of his will faded, he reveled in this meager act of resistance. But immense dread quickly drowned any sense of rebellion.

“Your Highness?”

Someone had found his deserted, out-of-sight hiding place. A young maid with dark hair.

“Melody?” Christopher rasped. “Why…?”

“I saw you shambling along. You looked pained, so I followed.”

“Y-you shouldn’t have… Run. Hurry! Run! Agh!”

“Your Highness!”

Christopher cursed the world that would place such a kind and innocent girl in peril thanks to her virtue. He roared at the cruelty of fate, his final act of defiance before he fell limp as a puppet.

Melody rushed to his side. “What’s wrong, Your Highness?! Are you okay?!”

“No, I…told you. I told you to run! Get away from me!” Christopher screamed as mana erupted from him and darted straight up into the sky like a bolt of lightning, rattling the campus.

Melody flinched, shutting her eyes and slapping her hands over her ears. When the thunder passed, she peeked at the prince, who now stood over her.

“Oh, thank goodness. You can stand. Your Highness?” Melody managed only one step before realizing something was still very wrong. His eyes were lifeless. Dark marks like brambles twisted over his skin. “Your Highness!”

The prince didn’t respond, fixing Melody with his empty eyes. He held out his right hand, a blade of darkness emerging from his palm.

The maid retreated.

This was wrong. Very wrong.

She had an inkling as to why.

“A black blade. Black thorns. It can’t be!” Melody focused mana into her eyes and examined Christopher, confirming her suspicions. “It is. There’s dark mana in His Highness!”

First the monsters, now the prince. Something was controlling him.

“Your Highness!” Melody cried. “Come to your senses!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Dark shadows marred the prince’s skin, like brambles coiling around his body, his cold eyes piercing. He drew his blade slowly and leveled it at Melody.

She flinched. Her breath caught in her throat.

They had been busy preparing for the big day, the Festival Ball, when His Highness started acting strange. Melody had given chase. Little did she know this would be the reward for her concern. She did not know what this was, but she knew only she could purge the anomalous dark mana. Thus, she could not flee.

Her heart ached. She’d only spoken to the man before her twice in passing, but she knew Theolas’s crown prince for a magnanimous individual, not one to fret over hallway accidents. This, his smile told her. And it was thanks to his staging service that she had found her lady.

Melody was indebted to this man. She could not abandon him to this fate.

If I leave, they’ll have to put him down with silver, she thought. So I won’t leave.

No such tragedy would take place. Not on her watch.

The light of courage drowned the fear in her heart. “There will be no tragedy.” She planted her feet firmly. “No death!”

I’ll save him! I, Melody Wave, maid of all work, shall carry on Cecilia’s legacy. The dark mana will not take him!

A cold, dead gaze met one of righteous fury. And so Melody fought. Alone, struggling to save those she held dear.

Chapter 21:
Finding Melody

“I THINK THE SOUND CAME FROM HERE.”

“It could be dangerous. Should we really rush right into it?”

Melody’s resolve wavered as voices neared. Wait! The prince can’t be seen like this! The prince, controlled by some awful power, attacking his subjects. Even picturing it felt wrong. I have to hide him! Quickly!

“Um, er, beguile and conceal—Sogni Sfera!”

A giant dome sprang from Melody, cloaking everything within it in illusion no matter the chaos inside. It was based on Sogni Collegare, but applied to reality rather than dreams, the mechanisms similarly esoteric. This was no mere trick of the light, as with her hair; it was more like a waking dream shared by all who looked upon the illusion. What was more…

“There. Perf—” Melody yelped as a razor-sharp blast of mana buzzed past her shoulder. Only near-superhuman reflexes let her dodge the bolt. It continued toward the boundary of the dome, but rather than shoot outside, it collided with the “wall.”

Sogni Sfera was a dream under Melody’s control. No one could leave unless Melody willed it so. Other students could not see within, and Christopher’s attacks could not harm those without. Even as he wielded a sword of mighty and malignant dark mana, Melody’s magic proved mightier. The prince wouldn’t be breaking through anytime soon, not until Melody freed him from the mana’s influence.

“My turn. Come, arcane winds—Argento Brezza!”

I’ll sweep that filth off of His Highness and end this quickly!

A gale rushed over the prince. Melody had used this method to weaken the stalker wolves, carrying away the dark mana coating their bodies. Yet against Christopher, the wind did little more than annoy him.

It’s not working? The marks on his body are still there. This stain is stubborn!

Melody bade the winds blow harder, transforming them into a veritable cyclone. Christopher merely crouched low to maintain his footing.

Still nothing. Why? Are those marks tattooed onto his skin?

The dark mana Melody had faced thus far was all superficial. Attached to plants. Affixed to fur. Christopher’s affliction, however, seemed to go deeper. The mana corrupting him spread beneath the skin, much like tattoo ink.

Wind won’t carry something like that away. Drat!

Melody was shaken. Her only other option for dealing with this mana would be her maid magic masterwork, the Silvershine Raiment, but she’d only managed to summon that once.

Sensing an opportunity, Christopher leaped out of the wind tunnel, then planted his sword in the ground.

“Uh-oh! Ali da Angelo!”

Brambles erupted from the earth and slithered toward Melody. She took flight to avoid the first swipes, but they surged up, grasping after her.

“More! Stronger! Wind, melodious and pure—Argento-Bia Brezza!”

Silver shot through the wind. Every thorny vine instantly withered under that enchanted caress. Christopher slashed the air, launching an arc of dark energy at the maid as she orchestrated the spell.

“Argento-Bia Brezza!”

The glistening gale collided with the arc, canceling it out. The magic consuming Christopher was powerful indeed, but hardly any obstacle to Melody. This single spell outmatched him, and Melody seemed to realize this.

“Winds, restrain His Highness!”

Just as she’d incapacitated the wolf in County Rudleberg, she honed in on the prince with Argento-Bia Brezza. Brambles erupted at his feet, sending him up and away from the wind but also sealing his fate. When he began to fall, he was a sitting duck for the wind Melody summoned. Shimmering strips bound him.

Christopher was subdued as his powers failed him.

Melody sighed in relief. “What now? If Argento Brezza won’t work, I suppose that just leaves its cousin.”

A whirlwind of silver swirled around the prince. Winds coalesced, enveloping him and swaddling Christopher in platinum.

Please, Melody prayed. Rid His Highness of this affliction!

After she spent several seconds sending her wishes into that wind, something happened.

Christopher screamed.

Upon closer inspection, Melody saw the brambles on his skin breaking apart. The spell was working.

“Yes! Just a little—”

Christopher roared again, louder this time.

“Your Highness?!” Melody gaped. Blood seeped between the cracks in his markings, his screams turning from rage to genuine pain.

It’s hurting him, she realized. No, if I keep going, I could cause irreversible damage!

Melody stopped the winds and hurried to the prince’s side. “Your Highness!”

Christopher lay motionless on the ground, blood trickling from cuts all over his body. His uniform, too, was damp and reddened by unseen wounds.

“First aid. I need to—” As Melody reached out, Christopher’s lifeless eyes shot open, and he gripped Melody by the wrist. “Ow! You’re hurting me! Stop!” Blackened brambles burst from the prince’s sleeve, snaking across his skin and darting toward the maid. “Let go! Let me go! No!”

The thorns slithered and twisted over Melody’s body. First her arm. Then her torso. Down to her legs.

They tightened and constricted and strangled, lifting her into the air. Melody struggled in vain against their overwhelming strength. Thanks to the charms on her uniform, the brambles could not harm her, but she was only a girl and magic her only means of self-defense.

“Argent—agh!”

Argento Bia-Brezza would have made short work of the brambles were it not for the hand around her throat preventing the incantation from leaving her lips. Christopher’s grip tightened, but he could not harm her. Her spells extended beyond just the enchanted fabric itself. Still, fear was a powerful force. She wasn’t well suited to combat, even though she could have simply resumed her casting to fight off a very real threat.

Thorns bound her limbs. Panic seeped into a young girl with a hand wrapped around her throat. To the outside observer, this appeared as a murder in progress, trauma in the making.

“Stars align, meteors shower—Shooting Star!”

A star-shaped mana bullet hurtled toward the prince. Christopher glanced at it, dispassionate, sensing the subtle presence of silver in the spell. It was too small to cause much real harm, but given the situation, he thought it best not to take any chances and released the girl to dodge the attack.

“Again!”

As soon as Christopher distanced himself, the star changed trajectory and instead hit Melody. Her bindings shattered. Free at last, Melody stumbled and dropped to her knees. Then something new crashed into her and bound her yet again.

“Melody! Melody, are you hurt?!” Luciana squeezed her maid tight.

“My lady? What are you doing here?”

“Luciana!” a second voice shouted. “Does she need treatment?!”

“No, thanks to you,” Luciana replied.

“Thank goodness.”

“Lady Anna-Marie?” Melody said. “But how? You shouldn’t be able to see through the barrier.”

“She found you with her magic,” Luciana said.

“Did she? My goodness, I’m impressed.”

“Please, let’s save the flattery for after we’ve dealt with him. I’ll gladly accept it later.” Anna-Marie locked on to the prince. He clutched a dark blade of mana, staring back unblinking. Anna-Marie directed her silver wand at him. “I will make you see reason again, Your Highness. Luciana, retreat with the maid.”

Earlier, Luciana and Anna-Marie were rushing to the tailoring room. They emerged onto the walkway, where they found a crowd had gathered.

“Sasha!”

“Lady Luciana!”

Three girls awaited them. Sasha, Luna’s maid; Gloriana, Olivia’s maid; and Celedia, who lay mysteriously unconscious.

“Goodness, what happened?” Anna-Marie asked.

“We were searching for Lady Rudleberg’s maid, Melody, when we found Lady Celedia unconscious,” Gloriana said. “We were just about to carry her to the infirmary.”

“Wait, Melody?” Luciana said. “What do you mean you were looking for Melody?”

“She had finished her work and was on her way to meet you, my lady.”

“I haven’t seen her.”

“You all heard the thunder just now, yes? Do you know where it came from?” Anna-Marie pressed.

“I believe it came from that way.” Sasha pointed.

Anna-Marie nodded, muttering an affirmation to herself. “All of you, bring Lady Celedia to the infirmary. Luciana, you should—”

“I’m going with you!” she proclaimed.

“But—”

“Even if you say no, I’ll follow you anyway!”

I suppose there’s no time to argue, Anna-Marie figured, relenting to the fire in Luciana’s eyes. She started toward the place Sasha had indicated, an out-of-the-way corner of the academy. In the game, this location served as a boss arena.

“Do you think Melody will be there?” Luciana asked as they ran.

“I think it’s possible she went to investigate.”

Or maybe she saw Christopher and followed. Which is exactly what the heroine does. Anna-Marie had a bad feeling. Melody had stood in for the heroine in the past, during an event with Anna-Marie, but that particular scuffle hadn’t been one of life and death; this one very much could be. If something is picking people at random to take up whatever role needs filling, and it decides Melody should be the one to fight Christopher, she’s a goner!

Anna-Marie considered Melody a friend. Or, at least, Anna, her commoner disguise, considered Melody a friend. But that was irrelevant. Regardless of who stood in Christopher’s path, she wouldn’t let them die by his hand. She wouldn’t let the Dark One take them.

“Hurry, Luciana!”

“Right!”

They bolted across campus toward the source of the thunderous noise. Several curious students had followed the sound as well, and some were even inspecting the blind spot that should have contained the fight.

It’s strangely quiet, Anna-Marie thought. Isn’t this the place?

“Huh. I could have sworn it came from here,” one of the onlookers complained.

“I don’t see anything. This can’t be it. Come on, let’s keep looking,” said another.

Students quickly lost interest and vacated the area, leaving just Luciana and Anna-Marie. They investigated the blind spot but discovered nothing. All was quiet.

Perhaps my preconceptions are getting the better of me. It must not be here. There’s no time to lose.

“Let’s move on,” Anna-Marie said.

“I…”

Anna-Marie stopped. Luciana looked reluctant to go. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Something just feels…off.”

“Off? Off how?”

“I don’t know how else to put it. It just feels off.”

“Let’s see… Reveal to me—Analysis Vision.”

Should have brought my silver glasses, dang it! Anna-Marie surveyed the area with mana-filled eyes, a similar technique to Melody’s. I’m not seeing anything. Wait! She focused mana into her right eye, shut her left, and squinted hard.

“There’s someone here!” she exclaimed. It had been faint, terribly faint, almost invisible, but she soon glimpsed a dire scene. “She needs help!” Anna-Marie saw Christopher with his hand around Melody’s throat. She sprinted toward the pair but ran into a wall of nothing. “A barrier?!”

Very clever, you jerk! I don’t care if you’re corrupted, you’re getting slugged for this! The maid being strangled was the actual culprit here, of course, but Anna-Marie did not know that.

“Can’t get through,” she growled. “I’ll cast a spell!” She thrust her hand into her skirt and pulled out a wand made of silver. No need to waste mana on the Draw spell now.

“Wait,” said Luciana.

“There’s no time. We have to—”

“Trust me.” The lady stared into the nothing where the barrier was, then stretched her hand toward it. “We can get in through here!” She grabbed Anna-Marie’s wrist and pulled her through.

Good lord, how did she do that? Anna-Marie wondered. I don’t care. That can wait. Melody needs our help!

In reality, Luciana hadn’t done much of anything. No barrier can keep out Melody’s magic!

The defensive charms placed on Luciana’s clothing had “protected” her from the illusion. And by taking Anna-Marie’s hand, Luciana extended that protection to her. Of all the spells in her repertoire, those charms of Melody’s were perhaps some of her best. It was thanks to them that the rescue party could arrive just in time.

Chapter 22:
Kurita Maika and the Raiment of Stars

“HAVE ANOTHER! SHOOTING STAR!”

Christopher dodged the star-shaped mana bullet, only for Anna-Marie to swing her wand and send it back around at him. Tired of the game, the prince swatted at the attack, dispelling it with an arc of dark mana. He glared at Anna-Marie, then thrust his sword into the ground.

“Watch for thorns!” Melody shouted. She’d flown out of range and disposed of them with Argento-Bia Brezza, but Anna-Marie could not simply do likewise.

Or so Melody thought. Anna-Marie smirked. “Not a problem. Light as air—Airstep!”

She couldn’t fly, but she could walk on hyper-condensed pockets of air, effectively accomplishing the same goal. Once out of harm’s way, she hovered, exchanging a look with Christopher.

I know he can use this spell, she thought. That he’s not using it must mean he can’t use anything other than what the Dark One’s granted him. Not having to deal with Christopher’s bag of tricks makes things easier.

The brambles slithering on the ground grew impatient enough to climb up toward the lady. They writhed skyward with uncanny speed, but Anna-Marie remained calm.

“Shooting Star’s the best I’ve got for single target attacks, but these things call for something with a little more area of effect. Stars fall as rain—Micro Meteor Shower!”

Innumerable, granular mana bullets appeared. Anna-Marie cast her wand down, and they pelted the brambles, perforating them like tiny needles. They made up for their small size with penetrating power. Some nicked Christopher, who escaped the brunt of the shower via defensive maneuvers, but that did not save his tattered uniform. Anna-Marie dispelled her platform in the air and gracefully placed herself between the Dark One’s puppet and the girls.

“Holy cow, she’s strong,” Luciana breathed.

“Indeed she is,” Melody said.

That the perfect lady’s superiority extended even to mortal combat came as a surprise to Luciana and Melody. Granted, Luciana had displayed her fair share of similar stunts, and Melody’s unworldly, unrivaled, and unparalleled prowess as a mage meant few could ever hope to compare to her, but they were a humble pair. And right now, Anna-Marie had taken center stage. The match was decided, as far as they were concerned.

The reality of the situation wasn’t quite so simple. I’m holding my own, Anna-Marie thought. But I’ll run out of mana if this goes on much longer. She held the spells she had so cleverly crafted herself in great esteem. She’d designed them specifically for this moment, to use as a weapon against the Dark One, and painstakingly improved upon them since the day she’d learned of the threat. But she was just one girl, and there was only so much she could do about her innate pool of mana. For all the damage she’d managed to inflict on her opponent, the advantage still lay with him. He’s probably playing defensively so that I tire myself out. Evil Christopher’s no joke.

In reality, Melody had already worn him down earlier, unbeknownst to Anna-Marie. Or Melody herself, for that matter.

“We’re just getting started!” the lady roared.

As the battle intensified, Luciana said to Melody, “That dark stuff on His Highness, is it what I think it is?”

“Yes, my lady. Dark mana.”

“I thought so. So why don’t you get rid of it like last time?”

“I can’t. It’s embedded into his skin, and forcing it out could put His Highness’s life in danger.”

“Then what do we do?”

If only I had the Silvershine Raiment, Melody lamented. She ground her teeth in frustration. She’d used it once before, so why couldn’t she summon it again? Why? If only it would respond to her, she could spare Anna-Marie all this danger.

“Melody, this doesn’t look good.”

Melody refocused on the battle at hand at her lady’s lament.

“Stars, bend to me!” Anna-Marie shouted. “Stardust Whip!”

A chain of stars made of mana extended from Anna-Marie’s wand, forming a whip. She lashed out at Christopher, but a pesky bramble blocked her every time.

She clicked her tongue as the brambles moved to counterattack, skipping out of the way using Airstep. Then she cracked her whip at Christopher through the gap the attacking thorns left in his defenses, but he swatted her aside with an energy slash.

Melody agreed. This didn’t look good.

“I feel like she’s running out of tricks,” Luciana said.

“That, or she’s running low on mana. She may be trying to preserve what little she has left so she doesn’t leave herself defenseless.”

“Right, so not good! Melody, I have to help. I might just get in her way, but maybe I can draw his attention away from her.”

“How will you avoid the brambles, my lady?”

“That’s what your charms are for, remember?”

“They’ll certainly protect you, my lady, but we won’t be able to free you if they catch you.”

“Er, well, I can’t fly like you or walk on air like her, but maybe I could dodge? Perhaps not all of them, but we have to do something!”

Though Melody agreed with this as well, her lady was becoming restless. How do I save them? Melody agonized. How do I save both His Highness and Lady Anna-Marie?

She found herself praying. It was all she could do as she watched.

“You want to save them, do you?”

“Who said that?”

“Said what?” Luciana asked.

“Someone just…” Melody glanced around but found nobody but her and her lady—her lady, who evidently couldn’t hear what she had.

“Only the light of hope can cast away the shadows.”

“The light of hope?”

“Who are you talking to, Melody?”

“Speak it to me. What is the hope you seek? What is your light against the darkness?”

“The hope I seek…” Melody looked to the battle unfolding before them. There was only one thing that could save Christopher from this darkness. She knew its name. But why listen to this disembodied voice? Why trust it?

Because she had to. Somehow, this, she knew.

“Lady Anna-Marie!” Luciana shrieked as Christopher raised his sword over the fallen noblewoman. Luciana ran to her, even knowing she would never make it.

Anna-Marie, too, knew there would be no dodging this. She wielded her wand in defense, but it would do her little good. This, truly, was not good. It was beyond salvaging. Nothing short of a miracle could save her now.

Hands clasped in front of her chest, Melody looked to the heavens. Madder gave way to violet, ushering in the coming night. Stars pricked through the darkening canopy.

How pretty, she thought.

A name rose in her heart. She spoke it.

“Silverstar Raiment.”

The next instant, one of the stars in the sky twinkled, and a silver comet plummeted out of the heavens directly between Anna-Marie and the prince. The lady shouted as she tumbled out of the way. The impact sent up a cloud of dirt and dust that obscured the scene.

Argento Brezza!

Melody cleared the dust with a gust of wind. What remained defied explanation.

“What…is that?” the maid asked.

Nobody answered.

The argent anomaly floating before Christopher was not the Silvershine Raiment, that much Melody could tell. Yet it was somehow similar—a Silverstar Raiment. It began to change, taking on a humanoid form. For an instant, Melody even confused it for a real person—a young girl with dark hair, a young girl she knew. The instant passed too quickly for Melody to be sure.

Christopher gawked at the silver, shimmering puppet, his sword still raised. He would not bring that blade down. He seemed frozen, incapable of following through.

Anna-Marie was in a similar state. “That can’t be…” Still on the ground, she gaped at the Raiment with tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong with her?” Luciana asked.

“I’m not sure,” Melody said. She recalled the girl she thought she’d seen amid the silver. “I think maybe what they’re seeing is different from what we’re seeing.”

“What do you mean?”

Melody shook her head. Not even she knew. Perhaps theirs is a long-awaited reunion, she supposed.

The maid simply watched this strange creation of hers and waited for what it would do next.

“Ow.”

Blinding darkness and consuming thorns ensnared Kurita Hideki. He languished in a dream world born of negative mana, a prison. It drove him mad that he had no idea how he’d landed here. One second, he was himself, the next, the corruption took over. Just this morning, he’d felt right as rain again. Had he missed something? Did someone skip a few pages?

“God, this sucks. The vines just keep getting thicker, and the thorns thornier. Hey, whoever’s feeding these things, knock it off with the fertilizer, will ya?!” Hideki winced as the pain intensified.

The television screen, too, had grown. He might have appreciated such a luxury if it were showing feature films rather than Anna-Marie risking her life in battle. He’d woken up right around the time she launched the first Shooting Star. The first thing he saw was himself choking the life out of the maid called Melody. A rude awakening indeed. Thankfully, the girl escaped unharmed, but had he really gone through with it and killed her, Christopher doubted he’d ever find his way out of the darkness.

“Don’t care if I wasn’t myself. Murder’s murder. Screw that.”

Trapped as he was, all Hideki could do was wince as Anna-Marie’s battle unfolded before his eyes. She held her own at first, gaining the upper hand with a diverse toolbox of spells, but his evil self had the advantage in mana, which gradually tipped the scales in his favor.

“Come on, now, Anna-Marie! You’re better than that! Where’s Maxwell?! You said you were getting him! Wait. Probably my fault. Turned evil too quick.” All of this was his fault, when he really thought about it. If only he’d been stronger, then Anna-Marie could have recruited Maxwell and kept Melody and Luciana out of this. “Why, damn it? Why did it have to happen like this?!”

Would that lamentation alone could change the past or alter the course of the swiftly worsening battle. Suddenly, Anna-Marie lost her footing and fell, an opening Christopher would not waste. He raised his sword over her head. She held out her wand pitifully, but Hideki had practiced swordplay, and he knew it wouldn’t be enough to save her.

“Run, Anna!” Hideki roared in the darkness, his voice paltry before the great vastness of the gloom around him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched himself bring the sword down. “Stop it!”

A futile resistance, he knew, but it was all he could muster, and so he roared.

Someone, please! he prayed. Someone save her!

Someone was listening, apparently, because just then a shooting star streaked out of the sky to strike the battlefield. Time stood still. The brilliance of the star’s trail consumed the screen and illuminated the dark space Hideki occupied, as well as the brambles holding him captive. He squinted against the brightness.

And then he opened his eyes.

This isn’t…

It was the real world. He saw through Christopher’s eyes once more and gaped at the person standing before him.

“Oniichan?”

Kurita Maika. His sister.

What? What is she doing here? Hideki couldn’t move anything but his eyes, which he cast toward Anna-Marie. She sobbed through the hand clasped over her mouth. Luciana and Melody looked on in confusion.

“Oniichan?”

I’m here, Maika. It’s me. He tried to move his lips, but only his thoughts could escape the prison of his frozen body.

Maika was calling for Hideki, but she’d find only Christopher and Anna-Marie here. She seemed to look right through them.

“Oniichan?”

Why does she keep saying that? Why is…?

Suddenly, everything vanished. This wasn’t the other world. This was his house. His home in Japan.

Maika poked her head through the door into the deserted living room. “Oniichan?”

No one. She checked the kitchen next. “Oniichan?”

Then the bathroom. The laundry room. The foyer. The garden. The shed. Everywhere. “Oniichan?”

After exhausting the entire first floor, Maika climbed the stairs, fear etched into her face.

No, Hideki thought.

Maika entered her room, even checked inside the closet. “Oniichan?”

No one. She called for him again. No answer. Finally, she reached the last room she hadn’t checked and stood in front of the door quivering. Hideki looked away. He knew.

Maika summoned all of her courage and opened the door. The room lay dark. It contained a TV—one bigger than her own—and a game console. She did not call for anyone here. She simply entered and switched on the TV and console. Fanciful visuals and music played as she took up the controller in trembling hands. The title screen flashed to life, glowing harshly in the dark.

The Silver Saint and the Five Oaths.

Maika selected “Continue,” picking up where she left off.

“No more. No more death!” the protagonist proclaimed. Thus began her battle with the corrupted Christopher.

“Agh, you jerk! Stop! Crap! Not good!”

Hideki could hardly bear to listen to this charade, the false joy in her voice. He could hardly bear to watch her in that dark room, all alone, abandoned by the people who should have been with her.

Maika, he grieved.

“Take this! Ack, no, he got me!”

Maika’s shoulders slumped as she lost the battle. Then she turned and looked up.

“You’re up, Oniichan! Oniichan?”

“Maika-chan…” Tears streaked down Anna-Marie’s cheeks in a ceaseless, helpless torrent.

“Oniichan?” Maika searched. She’d expected someone, someone who could not be there. She continued searching. “Come on, Oniichan, enough messing around.” She looked under the covers. Under the bed. In the closet. In the desk drawers. On and on she persisted. “Oniichan? Anna-oneechan? Where are you guys? This isn’t funny!”

Huge tears tracked down the girl’s cheeks. Christopher cried. Anna-Marie cried.

This better be fake, Christopher pleaded. Please, God, let this be fake. I can’t see her like this.

“Oniichan! Anna-oneechan! Where are you?! You still have to tell me about your trip! We still have routes to finish! Oniichan?”

Maika continued searching all throughout the house. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time she’d looked for them. This was a routine, a tragic routine he was powerless to stop.

Gradually, Maika began to grow until she looked about high school age.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“Oh. Okay. No worries. Sorry to bug you.”

“No, it’s me, not you. Really.”

She was speaking with a boy, his face obscured, apparently rejecting a love confession. Her expression soured as she watched him leave.

You liked him, didn’t you? Hideki thought. Then why didn’t you say yes?

“Same age as my brother,” she muttered. “Too weird. Too, too weird.”

What the hell do you mean, weird?! What’s wrong with you?!

Maika changed again, this time into an adult woman in her twenties. She was nigh unrecognizable. She’d grown up beautifully, and a breathtaking, all-white dress flowed down her figure. She admired the ring on her left ring finger lovingly, then glanced at the pair of photos she’d brought to her dressing room. One of Hideki. One of Anna. A smile graced her lips.

“Looks like I’m winning the race, Oniichan, Anna-oneechan. Wonder if you two might’ve gotten a clue about each other by now if you were here.”

In your dreams, Hideki thought.

“In your dreams,” Anna said.

“In my dreams. Right. I can hear you guys now.”

Damn, she’s got us pegged.

Maika looked up at the ceiling before turning back to the photos. “You’ve been gone for ten years now. It’s weird. It feels like a whole decade just flew by, but also like not a single day has passed. Just yesterday you were eating Anna-oneechan’s fists over some tasteless comment you made, Oniichan.”

That’s how you remember me?! Hideki hadn’t the guts to tell her nothing had changed.

“I was in so much pain for so long. There was no closure. You were just gone, then one day they said you weren’t coming back. I kept thinking you’d appear eventually like nothing happened. I waited by the front door a lot, hoping for the day you’d return”

Hideki hung his head. He hadn’t forsaken his old family after starting his new life. He thought about the ones he left behind sometimes. But he’d been lucky to have Anna by his side this whole time. It was thanks to her that he could carry on in this world that sprang from a game he knew next to nothing about.

I guess it was wishful thinking to assume you’d get on fine without us, he thought. Knowing how much Maika had suffered in their absence sent grief coursing through him. Anna apparently felt the same. She was still a mess of tears.

“I’m done waiting, though. I’m done crying over you. I’m starting a new life. I’m getting married.”

I see that. Hideki grinned as his sister showed the photos her ring. How come you’ve got that on before the ceremony, girl?

“Just a little teaser. I wanted you both to see it first. Don’t you feel special?” Maika wore a smile Hideki recognized. That was his little sister. He smiled too.

“I’m getting married,” she repeated. Hideki’s stomach dropped. “I’m going to start a new family. It’s going to get busy, so busy I won’t have time to think about you so much. But when I do, I…I’m not going to cry.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Oniichan, Anna-oneechan. If you guys are ghosts, and you’ve been watching me all this time, I know it can’t have been easy. I cried a lot, but I’m grown up now. I have someone to support me. And one day we’ll have a son who’s smarter than you. Nicer than you. And we’ll have a daughter who’s just as pretty and kind as you were, Anna-oneechan. I’m okay now. I’m fine now. I have a partner to walk through life with.”

The tears fell.

“Oh, gosh. I didn’t know I had any left in me, to be honest, but it’s okay. These are tears of joy. They don’t count.” She managed to hold back the rest and flash a bright smile just as a knock came at the door. “Coming! Well, that’s my cue. This is probably the last time we’ll get to talk like this.” Maika stroked the frames before she stood. “Oniichan, Anna-oneechan, if you two ever get reborn somewhere out there, do try to get along, okay? Live well. Live happily. Don’t waste time worrying about me. As you can see, I’m just fine. Anyway, it’s time to go. Goodbye, Oniichan. I’m off to be happy again.”

Maika beamed. Even all grown up, it was still her, Hideki’s little sister.

“You do that,” he choked. “You do that, Maika.”

Kurita Hideki—Christopher—vanished in a mist of light. The glimpse of this other life faded, and he returned to thorny darkness. On the screen, Anna-Marie was still sobbing. The brambles clung to him. The pain hadn’t vanished.

“I know now. I know a few things, actually, but one of ’em’s this: I’m through letting you have your way with me! That isn’t me!”

The star had given him a gift, shown him Maika’s life. Now he knew, without a doubt, that the life the mana was trying to convince him of wasn’t his. The Christopher of the game wasn’t him but a different man entirely with a different life entirely.

A light twinkled in the darkness. Countless rays radiated from Kurita Hideki’s chest like blades, tearing away the brambles as they shone.

“Maika gave me a job to do,” he growled. “I’ve got a life to live well. You’re gonna give it back!”

Light erupted from him, driving away the thorns, swallowing even the television screen and casting away the shadows.

His fury didn’t stop at the boundaries of the dream world.

“Melody, look!”

“I see it!”

The maid and her lady bore witness to the sudden change in the corrupted prince. The markings on his skin ruptured and vanished into thin air. Melody confirmed this with her mana-filled gaze.

Now!

“Come, arcane winds—Argento Brezza!”

A breeze swept over the prince’s body, carrying the dissipated dark mana into the sky. High. Higher than the naked eye could see. There, she coalesced what she gathered into crystallized form.

“Christopher!” Anna-Marie shouted, snapping Melody’s attention back to the ground.

The prince, though free from the negative mana, had collapsed on the spot. Anna-Marie sprinted to him and immediately began first aid. She poked and prodded, and only when she was absolutely certain his life was in no danger did she finally allow herself a breath of relief.

“Will His Highness be okay?” Luciana asked.

“It seems so. His injuries are many, but light. We need to get him to the infirmary regardless.”

“Melody and I can take him. You must be exhausted.”

“He’s not light, trust me. It would be nice to have a man’s hands right about now.”

Melody glanced to the side. Funny that she should mention that. “Sogni Sfera—terminate.”

The barrier fell, revealing a very confused but very concerned man.

“Lord Maxwell!” Luciana exclaimed.

Maxwell gaped at them. To his eyes, they’d appeared out of nowhere. “There you are. I searched everywhere.”

“I suppose freeing His Highness undid the barrier,” Anna-Marie mused. “Lord Maxwell, take him to the infirmary, please.”

“Certainly, but I’m expecting a thorough explanation when all is said and done.”

“I know.”

With a sigh, Maxwell hoisted the prince onto his back, then looked at Melody and Luciana. “What of them?”

“Luciana, Melody.” Anna-Marie hesitated. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but would you keep this all to yourselves? It’s…” She wasn’t sure how much to reveal. She was loath to bring innocents into a war they could do nothing about, but also reluctant to leave them with nothing.

Melody and Luciana nodded at each other.

“We’ll take it to the grave,” Luciana said. “You can trust us to keep a secret.”

“Thank you. That is reassuring.”

“You needn’t explain further.”

“R-really?”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m…kind of not very interested in drama right now.” Luciana grimaced and looked away.

“Again, I’m sorry. I promise to explain everything one day, when things are simpler. Thank you for your patience and understanding.”

“No thanks necessary, Lady Anna-Marie. Think nothing of it.”

“She speaks for you, Melody?” Maxwell regarded the maid.

Melody thought for a moment. “She does, Max. Whatever all this means, I trust you will tell us when the time is right.”

“You’re certain?”

“I’m not in the business of prying, and I do trust you. You’ll tell me what we need to know when we need to know it. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Melody smiled.

Maxwell was taken aback at first, then returned the gesture. “Indeed, you’re right. The day will come when all is revealed. This, I promise you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The lord and lady left for the infirmary. Melody and Luciana lingered for several seconds before heaving a great sigh together.

“What in the world was all that about?” Luciana wondered aloud. “Why was there dark mana under His Highness’s skin?”

“This turned into a rather complicated affair, didn’t it? My magic. The mana. Where to even begin?”

“Not that we could have told them much about the mana to begin with, but that white light at the end. Was that you?”

“I believe so. It surprised me as well.”

“It looked like this weird, amorphous blob to us, but clearly that wasn’t what Lady Anna-Marie and His Highness saw. If you don’t know what it was, then I won’t even try to guess.” Luciana threw her hands up in surrender.

“Personally, my lady, I’m more concerned with how dark mana managed to find its way into Prince Christopher. Perhaps I ought to bring Cecilia back after all.”

“So you can pass out from maid deficiency again? I don’t think so. Vetoed.”

“I suppose you’re right. We could…”

“We should do dinner. I’m starving.”

“Ah, of course. It’s past time we made our way home, isn’t it? Let’s away, my lady. I’ll have your meal prepared in no time.”

And there the questioning ended. Quite the happy-go-lucky pair they made.

The following day, October 20th, a somber air permeated Royal Academy. The prince had suffered grave injuries and returned to the palace to recuperate. As the story went, he’d been practicing a special spell to dazzle audiences at the Festival Ball and suffered an accident in the process. This also explained the explosion students on campus last evening heard. Mercifully, the destruction spared the campus grounds. The damage had been limited exclusively to Christopher, both physically and in terms of his pride, now that knowledge of his failure spread far and wide.

Ironically, this earned him some amount of goodwill from his peers. The perfect model of regal bearing was but a man capable of mistakes like anyone else. Doubtless they’d have sung a different tune if said mistake harmed anyone but the prince himself, but still.

In any case, His Highness was confined to strict bed rest for the next several days. He expected, optimistically, to return the following week. Anna-Marie, insisting on staying by his side to care for him, would join the sabbatical, which confused and relieved many. Despite the recent rockiness of that relationship, many hoped this time together could heal not just the prince’s body but also that particular rift.

The following week, the academy would reap its reward. With the return of the royal couple, peace returned at last.

Epilogue

KURITA MAIKA HAD A DREAM. NOT A VERY good one.

“Oniichan?”

In it, she searched for her brother and his best friend, whom she looked up to. She searched all over. Everywhere. Checking and rechecking his room, knowing she’d never find him.

“Oniichan?”

Not there.

“Oniichan?”

Not there either.

“Oniichan?”

Nowhere.

She’d made this her routine all throughout junior high school, a subconscious obsession. She must have worried her parents sick, which, looking back, wasn’t very fair of her. They’d been grieving just the same.

I still feel guilty about that. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad.

The dream went on. She saw a boy she’d liked in high school, though she never did act on those feelings. He reminded her too much of her brother. All the boys his age did. Then she became a college student, and there, once she’d outgrown him, she finally met her soulmate, the partner who would help her through her grief and show her that she still had a life to live.

They got married. Maika bade farewell to her brother and de facto sister one final time before moving on. She wanted to be happy. She was fine.

I remember that. I remember what I told them, not that they could ever reply. I didn’t wait for an answer anyway. She dreamed of that day every so often. To her, it represented new beginnings, a new life. You’d think he’d have the decency to respond. It’s a dream, after all. Guess that’s expecting too much of a guy like him. Jerk. But she knew. They weren’t there. There was no one to answer her. If they really had been there, then…

“Goodbye, Oniichan. I’m off to be happy again.”

“You do that. You do that, Maika.”

She whirled toward the photo. “Oniichan?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Her muscles ached, stiff from sleep. She was awake.

“Great. Perfect timing,” she grumbled. “The sun isn’t even up yet. Seriously?”

She couldn’t make out the window on her wall through the gloom. It was way too early to be up and about. Maika settled back into the warm, soft fur enveloping her.

“So fluffy. Fluffy good.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Welcome. You wouldn’t happen to be a pretty lady with animal ears, would you?”

“Perhaps you ought to open your eyes and find out.”

“Huh?” The gears in Maika’s groggy mind churned sluggishly. Who was speaking to her? From whence did this fluffiness spring? It certainly wasn’t any blanket she owned. “Um.”

“Good morning, Maika. We’ve little time. The sooner you wake, the better.”

The voice came from above. Absent-minded and sleepy, she craned her neck back and beheld a wolf. A large wolf. Larger than life even.

“A swell morning, isn’t it? A tad dark, though.”

“If it’s dark, then it isn’t morning. Wait.” Maika and the wolf stared at each other until finally the girl howled, “Hwuh?!” Her shrill exclamation of befuddlement spent all the oxygen in her lungs. “D-d-don’t eat me, please! You can have my brother!”

“I can’t very well eat what isn’t here, can I? Plus, by my estimation, you’re the far more tender and appetizing morsel.”

“Well, you’re right about that! I’m way prettier, and cooler, and tastier than that idiot! But you should still eat him instead!”

“You are indeed rather adorable.” The wolf chuckled. “Worry not. I shan’t eat you.”

“Oh, then we’re good. Sheesh, you scared me!” Maika chuckled next.

“My apologies,” the wolf chuckled.

Maika chuckled, and the wolf chuckled back.

“Stand-up time is over!” the girl blurted. “What is going on?! Aren’t you the thing that attacked us at the county? Why are you here? Where is here? I am so confused!”

It took some time, but Maika eventually recovered her composure.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s understandable. Welcome, Kurita Maika, to our dream.”

“Kurita? Oh. Hey, I’m the junior high me again.”

“This, as I said, is a dream world. Your current form is a representation of the memories you retain.”

“Yeah, dunno what that means. So, who are you exactly?”

“I am Garmr, the third vessel of the Sangreal Project.”

“San-wuh?”

“The Sangreal Project. Put simply, I am what you know as a ‘Dark One.’”

“Oh, so super crazy evil?!”

“There was a time when we represented hope, you know. From saviors of the world to villains. Such is the way of history.”

“Elaborate.”

“Oh, please. Humans create, and other humans use those inventions to do harm to others. It is a tale as old as time. We are but another chapter in that sad story.”

“So the Dark One isn’t super crazy evil?”

“‘Evil.’ We are amalgams of negative mana, but should we take on too much, it erodes our sanity. In such a case, yes, I suppose we may turn evil.”

“Don’t see how that could go completely wrong?! So how are you…? Oh. Miss Melody cleansed you, so you’re back to your old self.”

Garmr grinned as well as a wolf’s toothy muzzle could. “Astute. We require the Saint, lest we become a danger to the world. When she left us, we sealed ourselves away to await her return.”

“You keep saying ‘we.’ I take it there are more of you?”

“But of course. Many of my younger brethren yet slumber in the earth, praying for salvation.”

Garmr told Maika much of the Sangreal, of which there were nine in total. Hrodvitnir, the first. Mánagarmr, the second. Garmr, the third. Sköll, the fourth. Hati, the fifth. Geri, the sixth, Freki, the seventh. Tindalos, the eighth. And Vanargand, the ninth.

“Of these, two are no longer with us. Hrodvitnir the First was lost at birth, and Mánagarmr the Second was purified by the Saint and thus returned to the world, the only one of us to receive such an honor.”

“Vanargand…”

“Indeed. The one you know as the Dark One. The youngest of us. I know not where or how the Ninth received that title, however.” Garmr smiled sadly.

Vanargand, the Dark One, is the ninth in a line of things called the Sangreal, Maika summarized. This is all, like, behind-the-scenes deep lore stuff. Two are already gone, so, what? We go up against seven Dark Ones at once? What the hell, dude? We’re totally screwed.

Defeating just one had taken an entire plot’s worth of toil and trouble. Seven was ludicrous. What game put you up against seven versions of the final boss? A bad game, Maika figured.

“You needn’t be so grim.”

“You sure about that?” Maika wasn’t.

The wolf gazed off into the distance. “The new Saint—I feel she’ll manage somehow, whether she knows it or not.”

“You know what? You’re right.” The girl joined the wolf in its meditative resignation.

“That said, if you’re willing to show my brethren compassion, I wouldn’t turn down the offer.”

“Me? What am I going to do? I can’t do squat. Leave the heavy lifting to Miss Melody.”

Garmr became distant again. “I fear a pile of undone laundry is all it would take to distract her.”

“You know what? You’re right.”

And thus they meditated on the futility of life once more.

“In any case, I can’t even say where the others might be. I only ask that you keep them in mind in the event that they reappear.”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Much obliged.” Garmr chuckled.

Just then, a ray of light broke through the darkness. Not violently, like the fissures Melody had encountered on her foray. This was natural and serene.

“Wow. That’s pretty.” Like something out of a painting, she thought.

“It seems our time is up. Time to wake.”

A beam washed over Maika, and she began to float upward. “Whoa, huh? What’s going on?”

“Farewell, Kurita Maika. I hope you are as cordial to my new self as you were to me.”

“Your new self? What does that mean?”

“Since I entered the egg, I have been preserving myself behind a barrier, but I can maintain it no longer. Soon, the egg will hatch. When it does, I will have merged with it and be born anew, like as not without my memories or powers. Part and parcel of the rebirth process, I suppose.”

“What? So we won’t get to talk anymore after this?”

“An excellent chat it was. More than enough for me.”

“Well not for me! Just hold your breath or something! Hang in there!”

Garmr simply smirked. “Tell the Saint that a promise half kept is a promise unfulfilled.”

“You think cryptic foreshadowing makes you sound smart but it doesn’t!”

The girl shouted her protests at the sky, the wolf looking on all the while.

“It’s lame and stupid and nobody…! Oh.” Micah awoke. She’d gone straight to sleep after dinner with very little pre-bed prep. “Ugh, should probably put on actual pajamas. But first, Garmr, the absolute edgelord. I can’t believe he did something like that at the last second just to confuse me. Not exactly original, dude. Plenty of tweens who think they’re too cool and misunderstood for the rest of us beat you to that trope already. I’d better talk to Miss Melody and see if she can’t keep him… Hm?”

Micah pulled the Uovo del Mago out from under her clothes, expecting to find the same winged egg as always. She did not.

“Why’s the egg a star now?! Miss Melody!”

It was October 19th. Elsewhere, the crown prince was emerging from his plight. But Micah’s story was just beginning.

Bonus Story:
Enlightenment

CHRISTOPHER BLINKED AND GROANED.

“Awake?”

He was in a bed somewhere with Anna-Marie sitting beside him. “Where am I?”

“The infirmary at the academy. How do you feel? Remember anything?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He blinked away the fog in his head as it all came back to him. The darkness. And the light.

“Good. Then let’s get our stories straight. Better do it sooner rather than later.”

“Huh?”

“Lord Maxwell and the physician have gone to speak with the headmaster about you. People will be here from the palace any minute, so we have to be on the same page before then.”

“Page? What page? What are you talking about?”

“We need an explanation for all this, obviously. You were practicing a spell for the Festival Ball in secret, a surprise for the students. You made a mistake and it backfired, gravely wounding you. Got that?”

“That makes me sound stupid.”

“Well, that’s the best I’ve got. We can’t involve others.” Anna-Marie went on to explain how the prince being hurt on academy grounds could cause all sorts of problems. “If the lie involves anybody else, then they’ll inevitably be punished for your injuries. You have to shoulder the blame. Plus, well, you are sort of the one who turned evil, Chris.”

“Okay. Fair enough.” Christopher was the firstborn prince of Theolas, the crown prince, inheritor of the throne. Anyone who committed a crime against him would face the gallows, and he wasn’t about to send someone there for his own mistake. He sighed, eyelids growing heavy again. “Sorry. So tired.”

“Then rest. I’ll do the talking.”

“Appreciate it.” Sleep took him quickly.

“Honestly.” Anna-Marie stroked the sleeping prince’s hair off his forehead. “Worried me half to death.”

The envoy arrived shortly thereafter.

“This mess is the last thing I ever expected you to get yourself into. Look at you. So scratched up you can’t even attend school.” Christopher’s father, King Garnard von Theolas, scowled at him. These were the first words he spoke to his son upon finding him conscious. “Lady Anna-Marie told me everything. A spell gone wrong. A surprise for the festival.”

“Y-yes, Father.” Christopher averted his gaze. The story was fake but the consequences, and the guilt, were quite real.

“This is not behavior befitting a crown prince, boy!”

“I’m sorry!” the prince blurted reflexively. His father had never shouted at him before. He’d always been the perfect son. He didn’t know how to face a proper scolding because he’d never experienced one. At least not in this life.

“If your foolishness had implicated even a single other person, I would have had to make an example of them. Do you realize that? Did that thought ever enter that empty head of yours?!”

“I’m sorry, Father! You’re right, Father!”

“Regardless, you were hurt on academy grounds. Someone must be held responsible for your buffoonery, and naturally, it will have to be the headmaster.”

“What? You won’t remove him from office, will you?”

“No, I will spare him that, but something must be done, if only to keep up appearances. These are the ripples you leave in your wake, son. This is what it means to be crown prince.”

“Yes, Father.”

Christopher pressed his lips together. The story was fake, but the consequences were not. He’d failed to spare the academy this chaos. He’d failed utterly in his responsibilities, a truth that weighed heavily on him.

Garnard, acknowledging the self-reflection sobering his son’s expression, smoothed his scowl and set a big hand on Christopher’s head. “You recognize your mistake. That’s what matters. I’ll grant the headmaster some leniency, so raise your head. Don’t dwell on it.”

The prince finally met his father’s eyes. To his surprise, they were soft. Tender. Loving.

Garnard grinned at his son’s surprise. “When I heard you were hurt, I thought my heart might stop beating. I thank my lucky stars you’re here and well.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Father,” Christopher mumbled bashfully while his father went on patting his head like a child.

“All is forgiven. If you weren’t physically wounded, I might have been overjoyed.”

“You would?”

Garnard removed his hand and smirked. “A surprise for the Festival Ball. It’s good to know you can still act your age.”

“I-I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy with me.” The king chuckled. “A festive spirit is nothing to be ashamed of. The goal of the Festival Ball may be educational first and foremost, but it also provides the academy’s students with a stage on which to spread their wings.”

Christopher blushed. This story of his was coming back to bite him in more ways than one.

“You’ve grown so fast,” the king said. “Perhaps too fast. You couldn’t indulge in the things most children ought to, so it gladdens me to see you haven’t lost that innocence. Truly.”

“Father…”

“If only the message hadn’t been delivered with your blood-soaked garments.”

“I-I’m truly sorry.” It didn’t seem Christopher’s father was going to let that go, but perhaps he was correct to hold on to it.

“We’ve discussed assigning you a permanent guard because of this.”

“What?!” Christopher, though witless, was astute enough to read between the lines. This would not be a guard but a caretaker, a pair of eyes to watch him at all times. It was a blatant breach of privacy, as well as an enormous obstacle to his and Anna-Marie’s efforts against the Dark One.

Garnard sneered, entertained by Christopher’s reaction. “You have Lady Anna-Marie to thank for me rescinding that recommendation. She insisted she wouldn’t let you out of her sight henceforth. She’s a good woman. You’re lucky to have her.”

“From certain perspectives, I’m sure.”

“As you say,” the king chortled.

Christopher was on a roll. If Anna-Marie had stepped in to spare him this latest indignity, it was only because it served a practical purpose for her. Constant supervision would get in the way of their progress. Perhaps someday Father could understand, but Christopher wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Ah,” Garnard said suddenly. “What was this spell of yours that you were so enthused about?”

“Huh? Um.”

I don’t friggin’ know! he screamed inwardly. Evidently, Anna-Marie hadn’t filled that particular plot hole.

Swallowing hard, Christopher answered, “I-it’s…a secret.”

“A secret? After all this. You maim yourself in the pursuit of this whatever-it-is, and you still want to keep it a secret?”

“It would, um, ruin the surprise.”

“You won’t let this go? Even now?”

“W-well, I’ve come this far, haven’t I? Might as well follow through.” The prince laughed awkwardly. The scowl had returned to his father’s face.

Finally, Garnard grunted, lips spreading into a grin. “Stubborn as a bull, and strong as one too. All right. I look forward to seeing what you have in store, but I’ll allow no repeats of this incident. Understood?”

“Yes, Father.” Christopher smiled and nodded.

With one final chuckle, Garnard stood. “I’d best return to work. Rest well.” And then he left.

Christopher was alone again, free to sit in his bed with his head in his hands. “What am I going to do?!”

Damn it, Anna! You missed a spot!

And so the lie became reality.

That afternoon, during a part of the school day normally reserved for electives, Maxwell and Anna-Marie visited the prince.

“How are you feeling?” Maxwell asked with genuine concern.

Christopher sat up and grinned. Bandages peeked from the collar and sleeves of his nightwear. A single gauze patch was plastered to his left cheek. Minor dressings for minor wounds, but they covered his whole body. One could almost retrace where the brambles had clung to his skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m fine, honestly.”

“Are you now?” Anna-Marie stepped forward and held up a single finger, using it to poke at the gauze on his cheek.

“Ow!” Christopher cried out, lurching back and thus agitating every other wound Anna-Marie hadn’t touched. “Owowow!”

“Save your lies for the right people. Grandstanding will gain you nothing here.”

“She’s right,” Maxwell laughed.

“If you knew I was in pain, I call into question you deliberately making it worse,” the prince grumbled with tears in his eyes.

Anna-Marie gave him the cold shoulder. Maxwell politely waited for Christopher to regain his composure.

“Okay,” Christopher said. Anna-Marie and Maxwell had seated themselves on a pair of chairs next to his bed. “So, why are you both here? What about class?”

“Your Highness, I will be absent from the academy so that I can nurse you back to health,” Anna-Marie said. “I’ll return when you do. I spent my morning seeing to those arrangements, including preparing a spare room for myself.” She had beseeched King Garnard personally in regard to this. Looking after Christopher was but one goal; her real motive was gaining some privacy so they could discuss matters relating to the Dark One.

His Majesty acquiesced quickly, in part because he’d heard rumors of Christopher and Anna-Marie’s falling out. He hoped the time they spent together now would help mend their relationship. Frankly, it came as a great relief that Anna-Marie was still willing to go to such lengths for Christopher after how coldly he had apparently treated her. It wasn’t a father’s place to meddle in such things, after all, lest he make them worse. Not that either member of the royal couple knew or cared about the king’s quiet consternation.

“Things happened quickly,” Maxwell said. “I excused myself so I could ensure you were in good health. I won’t have time this evening. Someone has to carry on the committee work the two of you left behind, you know.”

“You have my apologies and gratitude for your sacrifice, Lord Maxwell.”

“It’s no matter, Lady Anna-Marie. In any case, now is the ideal time for us to meet.”

Maxwell didn’t enjoy the same luxuries as Anna-Marie. Without her and Christopher, if even the vice president missed a student council meeting, the Festival Ball Committee may very well ground to a halt. Those meetings could go on well into the night, so Maxwell could not visit the palace to see Christopher and Anna-Marie afterward. He had to miss electives if he wanted to visit them. That was especially true today, the day after the prince’s accident. Few would begrudge this sudden bout of truancy.

“That said, our time is limited,” Maxwell said. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” He elegantly crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair and resting his clasped hands in his lap. The grin on his lips completed an image of beauty and poise. He looked anything but appetizing to Christopher and Anna-Marie, though. Maxwell never put on this sort of show for them. “Why the strange looks?”

Christopher stammered something.

“Lord Maxwell,” Anna-Marie said carefully.

“Yes, my lady?” The grin remained, but Anna-Marie and Christopher easily deciphered his true feelings despite his steadfast gaze. Maxwell was furious.

In their heads, they put it a different way. He’s pissed!

How quickly he had transformed from concern to quiet rage.

“Nothing to say?” Maxwell asked. “Well, I’m surprised. It seems you two have been awfully busy behind my back. Care to enlighten me?” A vein throbbed in his forehead.

His was a righteous fury. Presumably, they’d included him in this alliance against the Dark One so they could all work together to thwart its machinations. Except this time Maxwell had been as good as the proverbial chopped liver, only made privy to the truth after the chaos that injured Christopher and disturbed the whole of the academy. Maxwell couldn’t wave this off with a chortle about the royal couple’s idiosyncratic methodologies, not this time.

Christopher and Anna-Marie could hardly breathe in Maxwell’s presence. They’d never seen him this angry. They doubted he’d ever been this angry. They acted with all haste, Anna-Marie jerking up from her chair and darting across the room. Christopher, suddenly numb to his aches and pains, scurried off the bed and joined her. What followed was a tense standoff, eyes locked on eyes, until suddenly they weren’t.

“We’re so sorry!” the pair shouted.

Maxwell’s rage subsided, replaced by befuddlement. His opponents prostrated themselves, groveling on the floor. There was a strange beauty to it. The angle of their bowed heads. The firmness of their hands pressed to the ground. For people unused to gestures of subservience and penitence, Maxwell had to admire their proficiency.

“We didn’t mean to keep things from you! I had no idea it would happen like this, Max, I swear!” Christopher rambled.

“Indeed! Precisely! We merely lacked the pertinent information, but by the time we had it, it was already too late!” Anna-Marie said.

“It wasn’t on purpose! Forgive us!” they exclaimed in chorus.

Maxwell stood like a deer in headlights. How was he to react to the future king and queen prostrating themselves before him? How was he to process something like this? He had no words. For several seconds, he simply stared.

A thought broke through. Just one. They are very practiced in apologizing.

Where in all the realm, Maxwell wondered, had the crown prince and the daughter of a marquess found themselves in the sort of situation that called for such a display? He could not find the answer anywhere in this entire realm. Little did he know, a certain little sister from a different life often needed cajoling.

Maxwell was utterly stunned, even aside from that stray thought. The royal couple gulped when he didn’t respond. Their groveling wasn’t working.

“What do we do now?!” Anna-Marie hissed. “He isn’t buying it!”

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d talked to him when you were supposed to!” Christopher said.

“Whose fault do you think it is that I couldn’t talk to him when I was supposed to?!”

“What was I supposed to do?! Don’t blame me, blame the stupid game or whatever made it happen! For someone who’s supposed to know this thing front to back, you sure are bad at planning around it!”

“Excuse you!” Anna-Marie exploded, forgoing all pretense of subtlety. “I’m trying my best, Chris! You absolute good-for-nothing!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Anna! I’m the only one who ever talks any sense, little miss gasbag!”

“You wouldn’t know sense if it hit you upside the head, nincompoop!”

“Good insult! Get it from your grandpa?”

“It’s a classic! Not like you have the brains to appreciate the nuance!”

“What nuance is there in calling me stupid?!”

Maxwell absorbed the ongoing, escalating battle of words with his mouth agape. What began as a sprinkling of whispers had quickly spiraled out of control, until Christopher and Anna-Marie leaped to their feet, screaming right into each other’s faces. What, er, am I witnessing exactly?

As far as Christopher and Anna-Marie were concerned, Maxwell no longer existed. They were lost in each other, lost in the tunnel vision of a world all their own. Maxwell almost worried this would be the tipping point, especially compared to where their relationship stood just a day ago. Almost. But strangely, he sensed no sincerity in this argument. What he sensed was something else entirely.

I see, he thought. I see now.

Suddenly, Maxwell burst into laughter. Anna-Marie and Christopher froze, turning stiffly to face him.

“Lord Maxwell?” Anna-Marie asked.

“Everything all right?” Christopher said.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Just fine.” Maxwell covered his guffawing with his hand until he regained control over a final few chuckles and finally caught his breath. “I’m okay. Apologies for that.”

“Scared us for a minute there, friend.”

“Whatever came over you?” Anna-Marie said.

Still struggling to stifle a second wave of laughter after the sudden change in tone, Maxwell smiled brilliantly. “Well, I asked to be enlightened, and I wasn’t disappointed. It seems you were excluding me from more than a few secrets.”

The royal couple glanced at each other, then back at Maxwell, then cocked their heads. Then, much more violently, like tin men with rusted necks, they looked back at each other. How long had they been standing? How much had they said? A long time, they realized. And very much.

They screamed. They screamed in regret. In disbelief. Rest assured, Anna-Marie had already cast that trusty, trademark spell of hers—Silence.

Maxwell just kept on grinning.

“That was a terrible display of misconduct, Lord Maxwell,” Anna-Marie said. “My sincerest apologies for what you witnessed.”

“S-sorry about that, Max.”

“It was a sobering diversion,” Maxwell reassured them, still chuckling, which only made their faces redder. Once they’d recovered from their own lunacy, Maxwell helped Christopher back to bed and Anna-Marie to her seat. The discussion could resume. “In all our time together, I’ve never once seen the two of you speak so…frankly with one another.”

“Well, uh, we have known each other since childhood.”

“You’ve known me since childhood, Your Highness, and you don’t speak to me that way.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Lord Maxwell,” Anna-Marie said.

“Indeed, I’m sure you wouldn’t. It is a special privilege to be so forthwith without worrying about giving or taking offense. Why, I dare say your relationship would inspire envy in even the closest of married couples.”

“You misunderstand!” they pleaded.

“Yes, I’m sure I do,” Maxwell said with a chuckle.

“You misunderstand!” the couple pleaded, more helplessly this time. They covered their dark red faces with their hands. What was Maxwell to do but smile?

“If I may be so bold, Lady Anna-Marie, I welcome you to take that familiar tone with me as well.”

“Lord Maxwell, please,” she sighed. “Let’s not make fools of ourselves.”

“As you wish. Your Highness? We are close, you and I. We could do away with the pretenses of appearance, no? Go on. Cast one of your insults at me.”

“Ask me again when you do something to deserve it,” the prince retorted.

“Now there’s an idea.”

Letting their aristocratic masks slip had taken quite the toll. They were still blushing, even now. Maxwell, however, clapped, perfectly unperturbed.

“Now,” he said, “thanks to that little display of yours, I’m feeling much more up to the task of conversing. Lady Anna-Marie, time is short. As succinctly as possible, what do I need to know?”

Seeing his anger gone and the storm past, Anna-Marie cleared her throat and dusted off her prim persona. “Right. Of course.”

The hell kind of spell am I gonna come up with?

While Anna-Marie carried on with her explanations and deliberations, Christopher’s mind wandered elsewhere. No more than five minutes later, this would become the topic of their next argument. Maxwell was getting used to the free entertainment.

Extra Story:
Rowdy Rudlebergs

“YOU SURE MADE A FOOL OF YOURSELF, YOU know. Nearly made Serena faint.”

It was the night of Hubert’s arrival at the Rudleberg capital estate. After a lavish dinner, he and his brother, Hughes, drank in the parlor. The first words out of Hughes’s mouth upon settling on the sofa across from Hubert were ones of reproach. He sneered at his younger sibling, whose cheeks rapidly colored.

Hubert tried to hide his blush. “Please, Brother. I know. Trust me.”

The memory promised to remain a painful one for a long, long while. The way he ignored his brother’s greetings. The way he took up a complete stranger in his arms.

“Difficult to discuss the matter of rebuilding the estate after that. What was the name you called her? Selena? You made it seem like they were twins.”

“They might as well be,” the bailiff grumbled. He removed his hand from his face and sighed. “It was like she stepped right out of my memories and into the waking world.”

“I admit, I’m at a loss for words. Fifteen years is a long time to stew on unrequited love.”

“‘Pathetic’ is the word you’re looking for, I believe.”

“I’m not laughing, Hubert.” At the man’s poor attempt at a joke, Hughes let out a sigh. It resembled Hubert’s.

A knock at the parlor door interrupted them. The count called for the visitor to enter, and Serena pushed a cart inside. “Drinks, my lords.”

“Thank you,” Hughes replied with a smile.

Hubert choked on his own voice, avoiding the maid’s gaze. The cart she steered held two glasses and two different bottles.

“Oh?” the count said. “I see wine in one bottle, but what is the other?”

“Mead, Your Lordship. Made by Gentlesister herself.”

“Mead? I wasn’t aware brewing was one of her talents.”

Serena smiled and shrugged. “Yes, well, she happened upon a hive that she felt obligated to harvest a mite of honey from. Some she saved for sweetener. The rest, she thought to use more creatively.”

“I suppose it’s far too late to be surprised at this point,” Hughes said.

“Master Dyrule has sampled it, and he offers his assurances as to its quality.”

“Dyrule?” Hubert blurted. “Er…” Serena’s sudden focus on him stole his breath.

She smiled softly. “Neither Gentlesister nor I partake, so she sought his opinion. He took to it rather fondly. ‘An excellent use of honey,’ he called it.”

“Sweet alcohol,” Hughes considered. “Interesting. A glass, please.”

“Yes, Your Lordship. For you as well, Lord Hubert?”

“Oh, um, yes. Thank you.”

“One moment, my lords.”

Serena filled each glass with amber liquid before placing them in front of the count and his brother. To Hughes, who preferred cheaper wine when he could get it, rare spirits were a privilege. He took up his glass excitedly.

Mead. Honey wine. However special the name made it seem, it was not, in fact, very special at all. On Earth, humans had been drinking it since the Stone Age. The process of making it was simple: combine honey with water and yeast and let it ferment.

Given a bit of trial and error, anybody could brew it. But for the Ignobles, who struggled to procure honey of requisite aristocratic quality, it was very special indeed. Poverty and perspective.

After thoroughly savoring the look and taste, Hughes finally took a sip. “Strong. The honey is very potent.”

“I’m told it was a particularly sweet batch. Gentlesister wanted to reflect its qualities in the drink itself.”

Sweetness varied between different types of mead. Generally, it lessened the longer the brew fermented. For sweet batches, one should consume them as early as possible. Therefore, it was easy to conclude that this sweetness meant this was an especially fresh batch.

“It’s delicious,” Hubert mumbled after sampling it himself.

“Is it to your liking?” Serena asked.

“I’m used to cheap red wines. This is a refreshing change.”

“Excellent, my lord. I’ve also prepared an assortment of nuts for you to sample as you drink.”

“Th-thank you.” All the maid did was place the plate down on the table and smile at the man, and again Hubert blushed. He told himself it was the alcohol. “Serena, I…want to apologize for this afternoon.”

“Pardon? Oh. Um. Thank you, my lord. But you did so already, so please, pay it no mind.” Serena blushed too as she recalled the incident in the foyer.

Hughes snacked on nuts, waiting impatiently for the tension to pass. I might have found this sight heartwarming fifteen years ago. Hubert was a man well into his thirties, far too old for butterflies. These days, the sight only elicited exasperation.

“Thank you, Serena,” Hughes finally said. “That will be all. You are excused.”

“Y-yes, Your Lordship.” Serena curtsied all too readily and took her leave.

Hughes’s expression sagged once she was gone. “Don’t even think about it, Hubert.”

The man startled. “It’s not what you think. I just see Selena in her, and it’s difficult to sort through the feelings. I’ve no intention of laying a finger on Serena.”

“She’s that similar, is she?”

“I still find it difficult to believe she isn’t her.” Hubert downed the last of his mead. The sweetness concealed the sting of the alcohol, but the warmth in his gut assured him it was still doing its job. Serena was not Selena, nor her daughter Celesty, but the resemblance was incredible. Perhaps they were related somehow. “Brother, where did you find her?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m sorry to tell you there’s absolutely no chance she and your Selena are related.”

“Really? Why not look into it? What’s the harm?” The single glass he’d drunk must have been strong. Cheeks flushed, he leaned a little too closely toward his brother. What came next stunned him.

“Because she’s a doll. A magical maid automaton.”

“A…what?” A magical maid something. He must have misheard.

“I understand. Believe you me, I do, but Melody created her with her magic. Serena has no birthplace. No blood relations. Certainly no connection to any women named Selena.”

Hubert could only blink.

“A reasonable reaction.” Hughes sipped his mead.

Silence fell, broken only by the sound of cracking nuts. Finally, Hubert seemed to snap back to life, confusion brightening his face. “Wait. What does that mean? What do you mean Melody ‘created her’?”

“We were understaffed, so she breathed life into a doll.”

This only confused Hubert further. Hughes could practically hear the gears creaking in his head.

Hubert massaged his brow, struggling for understanding. “You aren’t selling me a lie so that I keep my distance from her, are you?”

“I would be far more amused with myself if I were.”

Hubert studied the tired smile on Hughes’s face. They were family, and therefore close. He knew this was no lie. “You’re serious.”

“You understand why I held that emergency meeting regarding her whimsical spellcasting now, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I very much do.”

“I’m glad we are on the same page.” Hughes refilled Hubert’s empty glass.

Hubert instantly emptied it again. “Damn it all to hell! You mean to tell me it really is some impossible coincidence that she looks just like Selena? No! I don’t buy it! How is it possible?”

“I can’t speak to her finer features, but I can tell you her hair and eyes are reflections of how she looked as an inanimate doll.”

“Hell. It is a coincidence, then, isn’t it?” Hubert filled his own glass this time. Then emptied it.

“Sl-slow down a touch, maybe. There is still alcohol in all that, you know.”

“That’s the point,” he slurred. “She’s not Selena. Never was. Never had nothing to do with her. Thought if they were family I might at least learn where Selena is, but stupid me. She’d’ve said they were related when I said her name in the foyer.” The man’s speech suffered under the weight of three whole glasses of mead taken one after the other like shots.

“Are you all right there?”

“Fine, Brother. I’m just fine.” Down went the fourth.

“I think I would be a fool to believe you. Here. Eat some nuts. Slow down.”

“I thought I’d find her,” the man whined. “I thought she’d show me to her.”

Buffoon’s drunk himself silly, Hughes thought. He never could hold his liquor. He shook his head. It’s been a long fifteen years, hasn’t it, Hubert?

He put himself in his brother’s shoes. How would he feel if his own Selena, his beloved Marianna, went missing? If they’d never married? How he would live for fifteen years without her or an outlet for the love he felt? The answer, he found, was that he would not live much at all. And then to have a doppelganger appear? Hughes could not blame Hubert for clinging to hope, nor for this sudden outburst as that hope immediately came crashing down.

“I miss you, Selena,” the oaf slurred, swaying with a fifth glass in his hand.

Hughes moved to sit next to him. “That’s enough, Brother.”

“Damn it all. Not even’uh mick-marden, is she?”

“No, I suppose… What? McMarden?” That name stuck out to him as Hughes struggled to hold his drunken brother’s body steady.

McMarden. Where have I heard that before?

“Hubert—”

The bailiff suddenly bellowed. “I miss you! Selena! Selena, I miss you! Celesty!”

“Good lord, Hubert! Stop flailing!”

“Where are you?!” he wailed.

“Stop! Stop before you spill the mead everywhere!”

Hubert roared and swore and sobbed and chugged. “More, Brother!”

“You’ve had enough!” Hughes’s brother laughed at nothing. “Drunken oaf. Save some for me, will you?!” The man was a crying, cackling cacophony. Hughes regretted ever sympathizing with him.

“But, Brother, that’s my mead you’ve got!”

“Your mead? You’re not keeping the whole bottle for yourself!”

“Then putcher money where yer mouth is ’n let’s drink for it!”

“Bold challenge to make when you’re neck deep in your own glass. Fine! You asked for it!”

“Gonna need another glass then, won’t I?”

“Your glass is full, and you’ve already sucked down five. I’ve some catching up to do before the match begins. You’ll have to wait.” Hughes’s cheeks flushed as he gulped down his glass. He huffed out a hot breath.

All right, maybe this is stronger than I gave it credit for. Five might be pushing it. He was already feeling unsteady. The sweetness masked the drink perhaps too well.

“Givin’ up? That surrender in yer eyes?”

“Not on your life!”

“That’s what I like ta hear!”

It seemed the Rudlebergs were lightweights. Faces flushed and minds wiped of everything to do with Serenas, Selenas, or any other -enas, they began their poorly conceived competition. They would come to regret the match immensely the next morning. Lucky for them, it wasn’t a work day.

Afterword

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS volume of Heroine? Saint? No, I’m an All-Works Maid (And Proud of It)! Atekichi here, bringing you a school-setting staple: the festival arc. Even though it took a whole volume just to set it up. Still reeling from that.

But hey, some people say it’s the journey, not the destination, that’s most fun. Especially when it comes to school festivals. I also thought it might be a little underwhelming to just jump straight into it. Anyway, I hope this arc tickles a bit of that school project nostalgia for all students, past and present, and that you look forward to the actual event itself in the next volume! It will (hopefully) happen.

Here in Japan, school festivals are all about the projects each class puts together for the public to enjoy. Maid cafés are a staple and, well, have you seen the title of this series? My hand was forced. I’m afraid that’s all the thought that went into it. Sometimes the best inspiration comes easiest.

When deciding how Melody should be involved, I went through a few ideas before settling on costuming, one of the first being teaching the students how to act as maids. You know, put Luciana’s class through the same hellish crash course she experienced. But the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Out of a class of people like Olivia, Anna-Marie, Christopher, and Ciestine, why Melody of all people? No doubt they’ve got plenty of qualified servants in their retinues, and as superb as Melody is, only so many people know it. So R.I.P. to that idea. Stratified society and peerages come with a lot of problems, not least of all for authors.

So Melody went to costuming, but at least it made for an amazing cover. Everyone say thank you to our magnificent illustrator, Yukiko-sama, for making our beloved Melody a whole new uniform to wear. I know some of you missed that detail so flip back and take a look. Behold. Isn’t she adorable? And Anna-Marie in a ponytail? How’d she get there? Yukiko-sama never disappoints. That’s how.

Once more, thank you for reading. May we meet again in Volume 7, at the start of the Festival Ball! Until then!

From the Creators

ATEKICHI

Melody’s back, and she’s going full throttle! Luciana’s got midterms and a festival to plan for! The plot marches on! Shadows lurk! Can you keep up?! I sure can’t! Please, Melody, mind the speed limit!

YUKIKO

Widget HTML #1

Heroine? Saint? No I'm an All-Works Maid (And Proud of It)! Vol 6

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1:
A Return to Form

Chapter 2:
A Short Detour

Chapter 3:
Micah’s Request and Midterms

Chapter 4:
Something with Cecilia

Chapter 5:
The Third Rudleberg Emergency Family Meeting

Chapter 6:
Micah Makes Tracks, and More Midterms

Chapter 7:
The Festival Ball Committee

Chapter 8:
Class A Plans a Matinee

Chapter 9:
After Homeroom

Chapter 10:
A Meeting of Minds, a Meeting of Maids

Chapter 11:
Investing in Vestments

Chapter 12:
Hubert Returns

Chapter 13:
Hubert Gets Handsy

Chapter 14:
A Letter to a Stormy Cloud

Chapter 15:
Into the Uovo del Mago

Chapter 16:
Strange Dreams

Chapter 17:
Growing Frustrations

Chapter 18:
Reunion Rerun

Chapter 19:
A Light Called Hope

Chapter 20:
The Fallen Prince

Chapter 21:
Finding Melody

Chapter 22:
Kurita Maika and the Raiment of Stars

Epilogue

Bonus Story:
Enlightenment

Extra Story:
Rowdy Rudlebergs

Afterword

From the Creators