Chapter 51

"?"

Mikhail watched Han and Ul peer out the window with tilted heads, and a small smile settled on his lips.

The energy lingering near Colton Winery at this point was the kind that matched sky foxes best—both in nature and in character.

Just as he'd expected, the pair of siblings had both picked up on it.

"......"

Mikhail slid his eyes forward.

Julien sat perfectly still, gazing absently out the window.

But the calm wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time before Julien's body reacted to the mana too.

There was a lore detail about how casters occasionally resonated with mana they had a deep affinity for—

"?"

It happened in an instant. Julien bit down on the inside of his lip, and his eyes clenched shut in a sharp wince.

He barely managed to swallow a ragged breath before dropping his head.

Mikhail watched the sequence unfold, felt his own shoulders tense, and curled his fingers inward.

Julien's mana resonance reaction was a touch more intense than he'd anticipated.

...Is it progressing faster than expected?

Mikhail weighed the situation for a moment, then pulled his gaze from Julien and turned back to the window as though nothing had happened.

Weathered stone statues peeked out along the roadside with growing frequency.

A ring of low hills surrounding the village came into view. The feel of human presence in the air grew closer, little by little.

Thunk.

The wheels struck a bump in the road. Mikhail shifted his gaze back across the carriage.

From Julien's outstretched hand at the window, a white handkerchief slipped free.

Mikhail's eyes followed the butterfly pattern embroidered on its edge as it fluttered toward the tree-lined hills—but only for a second.

Julien's cry burst out right on its heels.

"—Oh, oh no! Wait! My handkerchief! It blew away! Excuse me! I'm sorry, but could you stop the carriage, please!"

---

The carriage rolled to a halt at the outskirts of Colton Winery.

Julien repeated his apologies over and over, then bolted toward where the handkerchief had flown.

"Prrrhh."

The horses stood in place, tossing their heads with impatient snorts.

Mikhail glanced at the driver patting them down, then rummaged through his luggage and picked up a small bag.

Next, he headed for a nearby hill.

The first problem to solve at Colton Winery—he needed to gather clues for catching the pickpocket ahead of time.

"—Hey, where are you going?"

Edwin called from behind. Mikhail turned back.

"Keep an eye on Han and Ul for me. I'll just take a quick look around."

"Huh? What's there even to look at out here..."

Mikhail left Edwin scratching his cheek and surveying the greenery, then pressed on.

"......"

A few minutes of walking later.

He arrived at the foot of a hill that straddled a narrow path.

Mikhail turned his head and scanned the surrounding trees.

His roaming gaze soon stopped on a tree bearing five dark brown fruits.

There it is. The ground olive tree.

Mikhail moved closer. He unclasped the bag and began plucking the fruit from the lower branches, one by one.

Thup. Thup-thup.

The bag was about half full when footsteps began approaching from deeper in the hills.

A light humming and swift footfalls grew steadily clearer until they were almost on top of him.

"......"

Mikhail ducked his head. He pushed a third fruit into the bag, making a show of harvesting.

Then, for just a heartbeat, he glanced to his right.

A man wearing gauntlets that shimmered with a teal glow was passing by.

He had a rather sharp, irritable look about him. Something a bit willful in his bearing, too.

"Two on the left. Three on the right. Five in the center..."

The man muttered with a scowl.

Mikhail looked away. He carved the words into his memory and reached for another dark brown fruit.

Thup.

A prickling gaze seemed to brush the back of his head. But Mikhail pretended not to notice and kept working.

The man's footsteps paused for a moment, then carried on past him and faded into the distance.

Mikhail was lowering the hand he'd stretched toward the fruit when—

"—Hey."

A sharp voice sliced through the air. Mikhail stopped and slowly turned around.

The man from before stood glaring at him, face pinched tight.

"You. Are you from this village?"

Wariness dripped from every word. When Mikhail stood in silence, the man pressed harder.

"I've lived in this village for five years, and I've never seen a face like yours. Answer me."

Mikhail studied everything about the man's reaction.

The suspicion etched across his face, layered with tension. His right hand—the one wearing the gauntlet—clenching and unclenching with restless agitation.

Mikhail met the man's eyes and shook his head.

"No."

"Thought so. What are you doing here, kid?"

Even with the thorns in his voice, Mikhail answered evenly.

"I came with my teacher on a house call. I heard there's been some unexplained sleeping sickness going around Colton Winery."

Perhaps it was the specificity of the answer. The man's face twitched, and the mouth that had been firing questions snapped shut.

But the sharp, probing stare didn't soften one bit.

Mikhail turned his eyes back to the last remaining fruit and spoke.

"These are called ground olives. They're a seasonal specialty of Colton Winery, so I'm sure you know them better than I do."

Mikhail let a beat of silence pass, then continued.

"I've heard the villagers use the bitter taste as a spice... but medicinally, they serve a different purpose. They're a stimulant. A key ingredient for the trial remedy to treat the sleeping sickness. The harvest season's already past, but I'd heard there might be one or two left, so I was searching the area—and I was lucky enough to find this many."

Mikhail let a note of genuine pleasure color his last words as he opened the bag for the man to see.

Inside sat four ground olives, neatly arranged.

The man looked between Mikhail's face and the contents of the bag several times, then clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Tch, confusing little brat..."

He grumbled under his breath, unclenched his fist, and turned his back on Mikhail, heading toward the village.

Mikhail watched the figure recede, then plucked the last ground olive and dropped it into the bag.

"......"

The bag, now holding five ground olives, had a satisfying weight to it.

Mikhail slung the pack onto his back and thought ahead to when the ground olives would come into play.

He retraced his steps at the same time.

His next stop: the carriage, where Julien should be waiting by now.

---

After walking straight ahead for a while.

Mikhail arrived back near the carriage with the bag of five ground olives slung over his shoulder.

The scene that greeted him was exactly what he'd expected.

Julien had already returned and was brushing dirt from his clothes.

Edwin was snapping off foxtail grass from nearby and poking at Han and Ul.

"Krrrrng..."

Mikhail walked up to the group. He scooped up Han—fur bristling, front paws stamping—and set her on his shoulder.

"Stop picking on the little ones."

"Picking on them? I was looking after them, just like you asked."

Edwin pouted and tossed the foxtail grass to the ground.

Mikhail lifted Ul, who was nudging at his ankle, onto his other shoulder, then turned his head to the side.

Julien had drifted over and was standing beside him.

"Did you find your handkerchief?"

When Mikhail asked, Julien smiled with a look of open relief.

"Yeah. Thankfully."

Julien held up the handkerchief he'd been clutching.

It was smeared with clinging mud, streaked and splotchy, and the butterfly pattern at the corner was slightly warped.

Subtly different from the handkerchief that had slipped free earlier.

Mikhail gazed down at it in silence, then lifted his eyes to Julien's face.

Julien was still smiling. But a pallor ghosted beneath the surface of his expression.

As though he'd just endured something grueling.

"......"

A brief moment passed.

Mikhail withdrew his gaze from Julien's face, expression unchanged, and turned away.

"All right. Let's keep moving."

Julien and Edwin nodded without objection. The three of them climbed back into the carriage.

Clop-clop. Clop.

The hoofbeats picked up again. The carriage rolled on, past the village outskirts and into its entrance.

Through the clear windows, a guard station, residences, and wineries appeared one after another before sliding away behind them.

"......"

Mikhail eyed the oak barrels and wine bottles lining the streets, then gathered the bag he'd set beside him.

They'd need to get off soon. The road conditions wouldn't let the carriage go all the way to the village center, and besides—

To keep things moving smoothly, I'll need to join the events that should be starting right about now.

—Neeeeigh.

Before long, signs reading NO THROUGH TRAFFIC began drifting past the window.

The carriage gradually slowed.

Clatter.

The wheels ground to a stop. The front panel swung open and the driver leaned in, wearing a sheepish grin.

"My apologies, young masters. I can't take you any farther in than this. You'll need to gather your things."

Edwin grumbled something or other in complaint, but none of it sounded particularly important.

Mikhail grabbed his belongings without a word and stepped out of the carriage.

He stood in place and took in the view of Colton Winery.

"......"

In the distance, teal-green forest swayed lazily atop the hilltops.

The commercial road leading to the village square was bustling with foot traffic.

Patrol guards were a frequent sight as well, and—

"—Ahem!"

A throat cleared behind him. Mikhail pulled his attention from the scene ahead and turned around.

---