Bonus Short Stories

Bonus Story 1: Keel Heads to the Academy

New Year’s had just passed, and it was shiveringly cold. A man pushed open the thick, wooden doors of the church and stepped inside.

“I’m sorry, Sister! I messed up!”

“Again? Goodness, I told you to be careful! You aren’t getting any younger. Did you fall off a building again?”

The woman referred to as “Sister” approached the man, her brows drawn together into a frown. She reached out and grabbed the arm he was cradling to diagnose it.

“Yeah, I— OW! Can’t you be gentler?!”

“This injury might be bone-deep.” The nun then called out, “Keel! Do you still have MP left for the day?”

Upon being called by name, a boy who had been cleaning the floor set down his mop and came over.

“Yes, Sister. I think so.”

“Then please help this man.”

The man turned Keel’s way and presented his upper arm. The boy held out his open hands and closed his eyes.

“Heal,” he murmured.

His hands glowed with a light that slowly transferred to the man’s wound. When the light faded, the man’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Well, I’ll be! It doesn’t hurt anymore! Thanks, kid. Now I can get back to work this afternoon.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

The man untied the sling and bandages to examine his miraculously recovered arm. As he said his thanks, he ruffled the boy’s spiky blonde hair, but the boy grimaced and ducked away.

“Goodness,” the Sister tutted. “Can’t you at least rest on a day like this?”

“’Fraid not, Sister. I can’t just leave all the work to the young’uns, can I?” The man shot a glance at the clock hanging on the wall, then hurriedly made his way to the door. “Money in here, right?” He threw a few silvers into the donation pot placed beside the entrance on his way out.

“Oh dear, look at the time,” the nun exclaimed upon checking the clock herself. “Here’s a little something for your lunch.” She produced a silver coin from her pocket and placed it in Keel’s hand, closing his fingers over it.

“A-Are you sure about giving me this much again?”

“Of course. Thank you for always working hard and doing such a good job. With how many mouths you have to feed, a single meal can’t be cheap, right?”

“Th-Thank you, Sister.”

“So, make sure that you eat up too, okay?” The kindly woman cupped Keel’s gaunt cheeks in her hands. The boy looked so haggard that it pained her heart. “You look even thinner than when you first came here.”

“I-I will, Sister. I’ll be out for lunch, then. I’ll see you again in the afternoon.”

Keel hurried to the nearby market, where he purchased more bread than one single person could eat, plus a few other cheap selections. With bags close to bursting in hand, he made his way to a section of streets lined with dilapidated huts. These were the lodgings that the church had available for those with nowhere else to go.

When Keel approached a certain house, he noticed an ornate carriage parked out front. Alarm bells went off in his head, prompting him to pick up his pace. He quickly ducked underneath the sheet that served as the front door.

“Are you okay, Nina?!” he cried as he burst inside.

“Keel!” Nina, the boy’s younger sister, exclaimed with relief. She was sitting at a table, surrounded by a protective group of slightly older boys and girls trying—but failing—to hide the fear on their faces.

A man in a luxurious outfit who was casually lounging in the seat across from Nina’s looked up. “So, you’re Keel,” he said with a sneer that raised the hair on Keel’s arms. “Took you a while. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Wha— Who the hell are you?!”

“How dare you! You would do well to mind your language!”

The lavishly dressed man was not alone—knights wearing expensive-looking full plate armor stood behind him. They reacted with anger to Keel’s disrespectful choice of words, prompting frightened squeals from two children around Nina’s age who were embracing each other in terror. An even younger pair started bawling, creating an ear-splitting ruckus.

“Come on, don’t scare them.” The mystery man stuffed fingers in his ears while admonishing his knights. “Now you’ve gone and made a racket.”

“Shall we finish them off, then, my lord?”

There was a glint of naked steel as two swords slowly slid out from their sheaths.

“Don’t bother. You’ll just dirty my clothes.” The ostentatious-looking man waved a hand dismissively. He apparently cared more about his expensive outfit than the children’s lives.

Keel settled into the seat next to Nina’s, then asked in the calmest voice he could muster, “Would I be correct in assuming that you are a noble, my lord? May I ask what brings you here today, my lord?”

Someone attended to by knights wearing such impressive armor had to be a noble with significant standing. Something had to be afoot for such a person to visit a place like this. If he let the younger ones continue making a fuss, there was no telling when the knights might lose their patience. The slow and measured way Keel spoke to the noble prompted Nina to suppress her shaking and look up with a steady gaze. The other children fell silent once more.

“Good, very good. I like that attitude of yours. But first, there’s something I have to confirm with you, Keel. Is it true that you possess the Cleric Talent?”

“Uh, yes, my lord. It’s true.” Keel gave the man a dubious look. I’ve been employed at the nearby church for the past two to three months for my Talent. Why come all the way here when he could have just asked the church?

“Good, just as I’d heard.” The man reached out his hand, palm up. One of his knights nodded and handed him a pouch. Upon accepting it, he promptly loosened the cord tying the opening of the pouch and turned it over, emptying its contents. More than ten gold coins fell out, clinking softly onto the table.

Keel’s eyes shot wide open. “My lord?! I’m sorry, wh-what is this?”

“Travel expenses and the Academy’s examination fee. If there’s any leftover, use it however you want.”

“Th-The Academy?” Although Keel knew of the Academy and Academy City, he could not understand why the noble would be bringing them up.

“That’s right. Keel, you will be attending the Academy starting the month after next. That is what I have come here to tell you today.”

“But, my lord... Me? The Academy? ...After all this time?”

“There’s no problem. And if you do well, you will get what you want.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean, my lord?”

“Well...”

The extravagantly dressed man explained the circumstances behind why he wanted Keel to attend the Academy. When he finished, Keel decided to accept his offer.

It would be quite a while yet before Keel and Allen’s first meeting.

Bonus Story 2: In the Silver Garden

Several days had passed since the New Year’s Greeting. While a maidservant helped her get dressed, Cecil gazed out her window at House Granvelle’s prided garden for no particular reason. After the previous night’s snowfall, the garden was now completely blanketed in white. Cecil continued staring blankly at the beautiful virgin snow unmarred by footsteps as she cast her thoughts to the celebration that had taken place a few days prior.

This year, the Greeting had been far grander than ever before. Allen had brought back monsters from the foothills of the White Dragon Mountains that he rarely hunted, and the head chef had used those ingredients to truly outdo himself. It had been so well received that Cecil had heard guests gushing about how only a chef with experience in the royal palace would have been able to achieve such mouth-watering perfection.

The maidservant held out a jewelry box, and after picking out a pair of mithril earrings and checking how they looked in the mirror, Cecil called out toward the door of her room. “Allen, you can come in now.”

“Yes, milady.”

When her personal manservant entered, Cecil slowly turned to face him. “What do you think?” Today, she was wearing one of her best dresses, and her hair was suitably styled, crowned with a beautiful gem-studded ornament from the royal capital. Naturally, this, too, was made of mithril.

“You look absolutely stunning, Lady Cecil.”

“Why, thank you.” Cecil giggled proudly before noticing the look on Allen’s face. “Hm? What’s the matter?” she asked with a querying look.

After all their years together, Cecil recognized that whatever Allen was thinking always showed on his face. This one meant there was something he wanted to say.

“Um, might you spare a bit of your time, milady?”

“Why’re you being so formal?”

Allen looked conflicted. Cecil had never seen him make this particular face before. There was a certain strength to his gaze. She felt a faint heat rising to her cheeks as he continued staring intently at her.

“Actually—”

Knock, knock.

“Lady Cecil, everything is ready,” the voice of the butler announced from beyond the door.

“Thank you, Sebas,” Cecil called out. Then she turned back to Allen. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I’m sorry. On second thought, I will tell you later.”

“If you say so.”

＊ ＊ ＊

The carriage carrying members of House Granvelle rattled down the streets, heading toward the three-story, high-class inn built of stone located in the middle of the city. It soon turned into the cobblestone turnaround in front of the building. The large number of carriages already lined up spoke volumes to the popularity and recognition of the evening’s event.

Just like all the others, the House Granvelle carriage pulled up in front of the entrance of the inn. Allen got out first, then held out a hand and helped Cecil down. Then Sebas and Viscount Granvelle also emerged, with the latter similarly escorting his wife, the viscountess, out of the carriage.

The owner of this inn was the host of tonight’s festivities.

As the lord of this city and of the fiefdom at large, Viscount Granvelle would normally be the one inviting the city’s big shots to his mansion, such as for the New Year’s Greeting that had taken place a few days before. However, accepting invitations to events hosted by others was also an important part of his duties as feudal lord.

After the Greeting, it now was the viscount’s turn to visit with major commerce and industry leaders, influential nobles, and visiting dignitaries at their homes or wherever they were staying. Cecil recalled hearing Sebas, who normally ran himself ragged arranging the scheduling of the visits in previous years, muttering about being busier than ever.

This inn was the first stop on the itinerary this year.

When the members of the viscount’s family passed through the double front doors, they were greeted by the sight of a perfectly polished entrance hall devoid of a single speck of dust. A uniformed employee was waiting to guide them to the party venue. They followed him down red carpeted hallways until eventually coming upon another set of heavy double doors. The doors cracked open, the clamor that had been audible from beyond immediately died down.

The instant the members of House Granvelle took their first steps inside, the venue exploded into thunderous applause. This roar of welcome directed at her family sent Cecil’s earrings aquiver.

“Hm, a tad excessive, isn’t it?” the viscount murmured.

“It’s for good reason, Master,” Sebas replied. “You did become a viscount, after all.”

Baron Granvelle had become Viscount Granvelle at the start of the year. It was only natural for the influential men and women of the city to celebrate the promotion. However, that was not the only reason for the applause.

Of course, everyone of importance knew about the launch of the mithril mining operations and the resolution of the uproar involving House Carnel. Once they had learned that House Granvelle now wielded the influence and capability to not only go toe-to-toe with but to dismantle House Carnel, all the power brokers in town were desperate to attend the New Year’s Greeting.

However, the number of available invitations had been limited. Therefore, those who failed to take part in the Greeting now participated in these events hosted by the local bigwigs in hopes of forging a personal connection with the viscount. Today’s list of attendees included not only a great many from Carnel City—capital of the territory now under direct royal management—but also a significant number from the royal capital.

As the applause continued, the owner of the inn approached Viscount Granvelle. This man also managed multiple lodgings and facilities catering to VIPs in the royal capital and several other fiefdoms. Needless to say, he was one of the big shots in this city—in fact, he was one of the most eminent in terms of sheer economic power. When he respectfully offered the viscount a handshake and the other man accepted it, the cheering in the venue roared even louder, shaking not only Cecil’s earrings but the very building itself.

There was no telling just how much money the inn owner had spent to make this very moment on this very day happen. It was clearly beyond five hundred—nay, a thousand gold, even. However, despite all that money dedicated to this single night, he must have thought it worthwhile to prove he had a relationship with Viscount Granvelle in front of all the other movers and shakers in attendance.

Ever since the previous fall, this inn owner had repeatedly—at times forcefully enough to verge on desperate—sought the honor of hosting the first party of the year following the Greeting. This was also information that Sebas had leaked.

It was only recently that House Granvelle had grown slightly more affluent, thanks to Allen’s efforts. However, it had undoubtedly been destitute during the viscount’s days as baron. Given this, it was difficult for him to dismiss out of hand someone who had played such a crucial part in keeping the city running all this time.

The party then began in earnest, with large crowds immediately forming around the viscount and viscountess. As decided beforehand in the carriage, Cecil quickly stepped away. She walked off—Allen in tow—into the party venue. The room was lit even brighter than daytime thanks to the countless candlestands everywhere.

“It’s my first time at such a fancy event,” she admitted honestly.

“It makes me glad to see House Granvelle being blessed by so many people,” Allen replied.

“But this is all thanks to you. And now you—”

A loud voice suddenly interrupted Cecil. “My! Master Allen! You came!”

It was Fiona, the daughter of the inn owner. She, too, was wearing a dress, her hair and neck decorated with splendid ornaments. She was also twelve years old, same as Allen and Cecil.

“Master Allen, we managed to source some sweets from the royal capital!” Fiona approached with a bright smile and grabbed one of Allen’s hands with the intention of pulling him away. “They taste absolutely wonderful. They’re just over there!”

However, Cecil stepped in, clearly having none of it. “Oh my, Fiona. What business would you have with my personal manservant?” she asked, emphasizing the “my.”

Fiona’s brows drew together in a scowl as she glared at Cecil. Sparks flew between the two girls’ eyes with such intensity that they were practically visible.

“Do you not realize that you are mistreating poor Master Allen?” Fiona asked plainly.

Previously, Allen had put his life on the line saving a mother and daughter from a murdergalsh; this Fiona was the daughter from that time. Ever since then, she had kept trying everything she could to meet with Allen. This involved repeatedly pestering her father to hire Allen at the inn and attending all the tea parties Cecil hosted so as to poach him directly. Even now, she was sending him a look as if to say, “Why do you stay in service to her? My father can promise you much better terms and working conditions!” To put it simply, Fiona was infatuated with Allen.

However...

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Fiona. The sweets sound truly tempting, but...”

Two disbelieving gasps sounded. A beat later, Cecil gasped again at the fact that she had gasped. Given just how big Allen’s sweet tooth was, neither girl had expected Allen to turn down Fiona’s offer. Cecil had instinctively stepped in just because Fiona’s forceful measures ruffled her feathers, but she had intended on eventually letting Allen go if he really wanted to.

The face that Allen had made before they set off for the inn abruptly came to Cecil’s mind. However, when she saw Fiona’s face, she found herself more concerned about this girl, whom she normally could not stand, than Allen—that was just how sad Fiona looked. Cecil flew into a fluster and whirled around, finding Allen gazing at Fiona with firm eyes and a resolute expression.

After a pause, Fiona gathered herself and mumbled, “Please enjoy yourselves.” Cecil noticed the girl clearly trembling as she spoke.

＊ ＊ ＊

The viscount’s family returned home before night fell. The party would continue until noon tomorrow, but as guests, they had no obligation to stay the entire time.

When Cecil stepped off the carriage, she said, “Allen, come with me.”

“Of course, milady.”

Leaving her parents behind at the carriage, Cecil headed for the garden. The beautiful snow crunched under her boots as she trudged on. She could hear Allen’s footsteps following close behind.

When she reached the area underneath her window, she turned around, illuminated by the setting sun. “No one will hear us this far in,” she said. “Allen, what’s going on? You even turned down the sweets at the party.”

“Well, about that...” Allen looked straight at Cecil and fell silent.

Cecil returned his look, patiently waiting for him to continue.

A gust of wind blew up behind them, blowing Cecil’s hair forward. The wind then reflected off the wall of the mansion to hit her in the face. Her mithril earrings jangled, pulling at her earlobes.

“Actually, there is...something I must tell you, Lady Cecil.”

“Why’re you being so formal about it?” Suddenly, the thought that Allen might be confessing his love for her crossed her mind and she gasped. “Wait, no! You can’t! You’re my manservant!” she exclaimed, heat blooming on her chilled cheeks.

“The truth is...”

“Y-Yes?”

“Starting this year, I’m now a guest of your family.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“It means...this.” Allen produced an ornamented dagger that served as proof of him being House Granvelle’s guest.

Cecil laughed, small chuckles that soon turned into howls that shook her body. She did not know how to react aside from laughing.

“Um, milady...?” Worry crept into Allen’s voice as he approached Cecil. Just as he leaned in to peer into her lowered face—

“How dare you quit being my personal servant without telling me?!” Cecil’s head shot up, daggers shooting from her eyes.

“Eeep! This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

Cecil’s arms shot out to grab Allen and grapple with him, just like how she had learned in her self-defense lessons, but he managed to slip away and run off. She gave chase, feeling a joyful grin spread over her face.

Soon, the previously untouched silver garden was decorated by two pairs of footsteps in the snow.