Chapter 5: Chicken Tactics

“In that case, do you still remember how last year’s Holy Eve Festival went?” asked Rafina.

“I certainly do.”

Mia nodded as she revisited her memories of the occasion.

The Holy Eve Festival was Saint-Noel’s biggest annual event. Based on the story of the Holy Deity descending to the mortal realm and bestowing the light of hope upon man, the festival’s purpose was to express that year’s worth of gratitude for His Holiness. Held during the first week of the last month each year, it consisted of a solemn candlelight mass followed by a lively celebration. During the mass, everyone gathered at the altar, each holding a wooden lamp. A traditional list of hymns was sung before Rafina gave a sermon. At the end, everyone would go outside and throw their lamps onto a bonfire, causing it to grow from an ember to a great, blazing flame. The ritual represented the light of hope from God illuminating the earth.

After that, the party began, and the festivities would continue throughout the night. The event was not limited in scope to the academy either; it spanned the entirety of the island, and students would spill into the town in roving bands spreading verve and merriment. The previous year, Mia and her friends had enjoyed a lengthy vendor stall browsing trip before retiring to Chloe’s room and chatting the night away.

...In case anyone is wondering how the festival had gone for past-timeline Mia, it went about as badly as you’d expect. She sat in her room waiting for Sion to come and ask her out. Esmeralda dropped by with a bunch of friends during the party and invited her to join them, but she declined, figuring she couldn’t afford to leave in case Sion showed up while she was gone. Mind you, she wasn’t waiting for a specific time; no promises had been made whatsoever. She simply waited, and waited...and the next thing she knew, she’d woken to the sound of chirping birds.

Yes, it was one of those episodes.

Her lonesome memories of the event, however, ended up serving as juxtapositional fuel for last year’s festival, greatly enhancing an already-enjoyable experience and turning it into a night she’d remember for the rest of her life.

“I see,” said Rafina. “You’re familiar with the general flow of the festival, yes? The student council’s responsibilities lie mainly in the second half, during the party. There will be lots of traffic in and out of the academy during that time. Merchants, for example, who normally are not allowed in will be granted passage, and they’ll need to be inspected beforehand. Security routines will need to be modified as well. With that said, the student council won’t be micromanaging all of that. Rather, we’ll be receiving reports from the people in charge of the various functions and it’s our job to check those and make sure there are no deficiencies or issues.”

“Hmm... It sounds like there’s lots of work to do in advance. What about the day of?”

“The festival proper is actually a pretty light day for the student council. There won’t be much work to do. Part of the planning we do beforehand is to put systems in place that allow on-site staff to operate flexibly without needing to report in for every little issue.”

Mmm... That does make sense. After all, Miss Rafina can’t move around freely that day.

As the daughter of Duke Belluga, Rafina was also a saint of the Central Orthodox Church. On the day of the Holy Eve Festival, she acted as the academy’s chaplain. The role kept her very busy, requiring her to attend the candlelight mass, then going from guest to guest greeting and speaking with them. That was why systems had to be preemptively designed so that the festival could continue operating even in her absence.

“I know it sounds quite overwhelming, but it’s a yearly event, and both the head of security and the chief butler who handles operations are familiar with how things are run. I suspect it won’t be as onerous a task as it might sound,” said Rafina with a gentle, reassuring smile.

Mia, of course, did not find this comment particularly comforting. If anything, it made her even more nervous, since having little to no work on the day of the festival meant that...

There’s basically nothing stopping me from going out and leaving the island.

It’d be better if she’d been told that she had to run a marathon around the academy putting out operational fires, or that she had to stay cooped up in the student council office to deal with a steady stream of work. That would make it all but impossible to sneak off and get herself attacked by bandits. The prospect of persuading Rafina and the rest of the members to let her abandon a pile of work and leave the island on her own was pretty much unthinkable. Being able to wander around freely greatly lowered the hurdle to exiting the island, adding a great deal of ominous legitimacy to the Chronicles’ prophecy.

Oh, but then again, the me in the Chronicles didn’t know I’d be killed if I left the island, so maybe at the time, I just felt like getting some fresh air and didn’t give it much thought...

She tried to imagine herself deciding to go for a long ride on a whim and carelessly strolling off the island with a horse. She succeeded.

Okay, yes, I can totally see myself doing that.

She pondered the implications of this thought. For example, all the work involved in the festival’s prior preparation might have left her feeling pent-up. Maybe she was seeking an outlet for her frustrations, hoping to let off some steam by going for a lengthy gallop. Naturally, with the island occupied by the festivities, any horse riding would have to take place somewhere else; she’d have to leave the island. The more she considered this scenario, the more its likelihood seemed alarmingly high.

In that case though, the solution is simple. No matter how busy I get, even if I feel cooped up and frustrated, I just have to make sure I don’t do the stupid thing and leave Saint-Noel. That’s it. I might just stay in my room the entire time. I could even host some sort of student council appreciation party in the office and spend the whole night partying there... Huh, I like the sound of that. Maybe the party could involve some mushroom stew...

Though her mind found this arrangement entirely reasonable, her stomach seemed unconvinced, and something in it continued to flutter. It bothered her, and for some reason, she couldn’t get it to go away.

A-Anyway, until the day arrives, I should use this time to do whatever I can to prepare. That, at least, is something useful that I know I can do!

Where carelessness goes, death follows close behind. So Mia was going to give both a wide berth by never letting down her guard. That was how she planned to fight this battle—avoid her enemy like the plague. As the saying goes, when a chicken, do as the chickens do: employ Chicken Tactics.