Working at Harré, Part Six

It’s the first day of the second month of the Season of Flowers.

A brilliant, sunny day begins in the Kingdom of Doran with the sound of bells praising the founding deity of the realm, Pramána.

There is a bell tower atop the palace on the Royal Isle. Once that bell begins to ring, heralding the rising of the sun, all of Doran slowly wakes from their slumber to greet the new day with joy.

Flowers are blooming everywhere throughout the city. To my left, to my right—all I see are flowers. Flowers, flowers, flowers, fill the town fully up.

Well, perhaps I’m not being descriptive enough here, but it truly does seem like the whole town—the whole country, even—has become one giant field of flowers. Yellow, white, pink, blue, and so many other colors adorn the landscape with every hue of the season.

When I go to the food stalls or into a store to do some shopping, I see workers pushing flowers into their customers’ hands. Giving flowers to customers seems to be the shops’ way of showing appreciation for their patronage. One of my friends, whose father manages a butcher shop, tells me that they have so many flowers growing around their shop, they give customers a free bouquet with every purchase at this time of year.

While there are many reasons one may receive flowers, I doubt there’s a single person who’s unhappy with the gift. Flowers are wonderful to get, no matter the reason.

“Sorry for being late! Have you been waiting long?”

I call out to Yakkurin, who’s waiting at the spot we decided on. It’s not like I’m actually late—I just feel guilty that he’s been waiting for me to get here.

“Nah, ’s all good! I just got here. It’s still earlier than what we agreed to, yeah?”

His soft, slightly curly, light brown hair shakes a little as he laughs. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like he’s gone out of his way to dress up. He has on a white shirt with a blue vest, and is wearing a modest pair of pants the same light brown as his hair. Not too showy, not too shabby—for some reason, seeing that makes me feel relaxed, like I did the first time I met Satanás. Although perhaps that’s a bit rude with regards to Yakkurin, because his hair doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed. Anyhow, he looks nice, that’s all.

Handsome. A cool guy all around, really.

“What’s up?”

Shoot! Yakkurin noticed me staring.

“Um, Hel? You alright there?”

“Oh, sorry about that. I was just thinking that you look really good today, that’s all.”

“Ha! Flattery from the get-go, eh?”

“No, I really mean that. I don’t believe in lying, you know.”

“Zozo did mention that you ‘hated lying’ or something... Jeez, this conversation’s gonna make me blush.”

“Well, let’s just be on our way then!”

I’m wearing what I always do when I’m off work, just a humble little green skirt. I roll up my sleeves a bit and then we’re off, walking through the streets. Well, I suppose this isn’t what I “always” wear—I just bought these new shoes, and the heels on them are a bit higher than normal. I’d wanted to look just a little fancier than I normally did. Today is the day of the Festival of the Flower Goddess, which only happens once a year, plus I’ve got a date! Who could blame me for wanting to look pretty? Didn’t Mom used to say something like, “good shoes will take you to good places?” I want to enjoy today as much as possible. I was so excited about the prospect of seeing Maris, I barely slept. It’s embarrassing, but last night I really was acting like a kid the night before a school field trip.

I hope we don’t get separated from each other in the crowd. I glance backwards at Yakkurin. “Be careful not to get lost, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Might be a good idea to hold hands, even.”

“Hm, you’re right.”

“What?”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s just—guess I’m surprised that you’re open to it, that’s all.”

I reach my hand out to him, but he hesitates for some reason. Well, I guess he has a point. We aren’t kids or anything, so it would mean something different.

For men and women on the brink of adulthood, walking around town hand in hand was something usually only lovers or married couples did. And yet here I am, stretching out my hand without a care in the world, like we’re a couple of kids on a playdate!

The more time that passes, the more embarrassed I get. I feel my cheeks start to flush.

“Anyways, setting that aside—if you’re alright with it, I really would like to hold hands.”

“But—”

“Don’t get lost on me now!”

Yakkurin grabs my hand and pulls me forward. I keep my eyes focused on his back as we move through the crowd, hand in hand.

I didn’t make him feel like we had to hold hands...did I? I feel a bit guilty about how things turned out. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, and if someone who likes him sees this, there’s sure to be a misunderstanding. Plus, all the Harré employees have the day off today, so the likelihood that we’ll run into someone we know is rather high. Maybe he was right to hesitate—we’ll just cause more confusion about his relationship status, which can’t be fun for him to think about.

“Um, I’m sorry bu—”

“Let go of my hand and I’ll fine ya three pegalo!”

He has a big smile on his face as he says this to me over his shoulder.

He really, truly is a “nice guy,” isn’t he?

The streetlights we pass by on our way are still unlit. There are a lot of brick buildings in this part of town. The flowers look even more beautiful against the red of the brick, growing all along the edges of the road. A little ways further, the road narrows to a stone staircase, which leads up into a park where, around the white fountain of the Goddess, a band is playing, people are dancing, children are wearing flower crowns, and lovers are kissing each other as they exchange flowers.

Right now, it all appears to me as the most wonderful, radiant sight in the world.

Then, all of those people who had been so involved in their dancing, or confessions, or flower crowns—all of them begin to chatter excitedly as they look up at the sky.

I follow their gazes and I can see that right now, the royal family is descending in its pegasi-drawn carriage. The carriage, large and glowing as gold as the sun, flies directly overhead.

“Glory to the Kingdom of Doran!”

“Glory!”

“Long live the King!”

“Long live the Queen!”

Everyone takes out a small handkerchief-sized Doran flag, lifts it up, and begins waving it in the air. From the sky, from the carriage, flower petals float down to shower the city. The people cheer with joy, and raise their hands to grab the petals.

Just as I’m about to grab one of the petals, however, a bouquet of flowers suddenly appears beside me.

“For you,” Yakkurin says.

“Really? Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he says, smiling. He looks over in the direction of the Harré headquarters. “Wish the Director and Alkes could’ve gotten the day off as well too, though.”

He says this right in the middle of us enjoying the festival. I turn towards Harré as well and give a short, sincere bow of gratitude to both the Director and Mr. Alkes. I said earlier that “all” of the Harré employees have the day off today, but they’re on standby at the headquarters anyway, just in case anything happens. They do this every year, apparently, and even if we employees volunteer to do it instead, the Director turns us down. Ms. Harris had proposed switching out with the Director for a mere half day so that she could go out and have some fun, but she’d firmly refused, shaking her head and saying, “This is my duty as the Director of Harré.”

Ms. Harris and Zozo, of course, had muttered a few complaints about how it was their duties as employees to cover for the Director, but it was no use.

I hadn’t been working long enough to feel comfortable saying anything like that, obviously, but the Director, who’s been at work on every Flower Festival since she got the position—I just felt sad for her, to be honest, and wanted to offer my help as well. She may get teased a lot by the other employees about being single, but I think we’re all actually rather worried about that.

Mr. Alkes, of course, insisted on staying with her. For some reason, no one volunteered to cover for him. Instead, they’d said, “Please, take good care of our lovelorn Director!” and patted him on the back on their way out.

You know, I think it’d be nice to buy them a little something as a souvenir. I’m going to head back to the dorm before I go up to meet Maris, so I’ll try giving it to them then.

“Knights are workin’ too, aren’t they?”

“They have to guard the royal family. One of my friends is a Knight, you know, and she’s one of those working today.”

There are Knights standing at regular intervals throughout every city in the Kingdom today. With all of the citizens out and about in a festive mood while the royal family is flying over the whole Kingdom, they have to be on a strict lookout for any trouble. It’d take too long to mobilize them should anything happen, so they’re stationed everywhere to prevent problems in the first place.

Doran’s people are friendly, though, so they give them flowers, and some of the children even crown the lady Knights with their flower crowns. I see one such Knight getting crowned right now, and she looks very happy. “Peace”—a word that’s meant to describe a day like today.

“Oh, right—you feelin’ hungry?”

“Kinda... What sort of things do you like to eat?”

“Me? Sweet and spicy geejee’s my favorite, I guess.”

“Oh...I think I remember Kara liking not just geejee meat, but sweet and spicy stuff in general, right? Siblings really do resemble each other.”

“Well what about you, Hel? Got any brothers or sisters?”

“I have this cousin who’s like my older brother, but other than that, no, I’m an only child.”

As we walk down the street, I see sorcerers I’ve met at work, the old lady who I buy groceries from, and some repeat clients as well. I wave to them, say hello, and we continue walking, sometimes eating food from a stall as we go.

Yakkurin sees some acquaintances and friends of his as well, and he calls out to all of them with a smile—while still holding my hand. I suppose he really doesn’t mind people seeing us like this. He doesn’t try to let go when he sees his friends, and when sorcerers I know or the old lady from the grocery try teasing us about the hand-holding, he just smiles and says, “I’m holding her hand so she doesn’t get lost.” I attempt to explain, of course, that I was holding his hand so he wouldn’t get lost—but whenever I say that, for some reason, everyone would look sorry, pat his back, and then say to him, “Sorry, dear” or “That’s rough, bro,” and then “Good luck.” I’m a little puzzled as to what they’re thinking when they say this.

Maybe they just pity him because they think he’s babysitting a grown woman at the festival...?

＊　＊　＊　＊

“Hel, your clothes are covered with flowers.”

Yakkurin points down at my skirt, laughing with a kind smile that reaches his eyes.

We’ve been walking along, buying this and that from the stalls, and I see that at some point, my clothes have indeed become covered with flowers. The shopkeepers gave me so many! Even though I tried to tell them I couldn’t hold any more, they’d press them into my hair, my collar, and even into my belt loops. I feel like I’ve become a flower vase. Not an experience I’d thought I’d ever have, that’s for sure. For the past six years, I’d been living in a dorm up on the Isle, and hadn’t had the chance to enjoy the festival like this. Even before then, it had been different. I remember going with my parents, but I hadn’t known that festival day was when the very world bloomed to life. I look up at the clear sky. Blue, far as the eye can see.

“Whoa, Nanalie? That you?”

“Oh! Benjamine!”

Yakkurin and I are walking side by side when someone calls out to me from behind. I turn around to see Benjamine wearing a flower crown, holding a snack in one hand. She looks like she’s having fun.

Yakkurin and I haven’t been holding hands for a little while, as we’ve been too busy carrying all the food we’ve been buying. “Looks like we’re both having fun,” I say.

“Who’s the guy you’re with?” she asks, nodding to Yakkurin. I tell her he’s just a friend from work. Then I realize there’s something I need to ask:

“Where’s Satanás? Weren’t you two coming together?”

“Well, yeah, we came together, but...look over there.” She juts her chin out to my right.

“Hey girllll! I got the ‘spirit of the flowers’ in me, if you know what I mean. Whaddya say, gimme a chance?” Satanás is calling to a woman passing by.

“Hmm? Whereabouts do you keep that ‘spirit of the flowers’?”

“Right down here.”

“Oh, my goodness, that’s quite something!”

Unbelievable.

A dark shadow passes over my face, like that of a murderer. “Pardon me. I’ve got an insect to crush.”

“Wa-Wait up!”

Benjamine panics and tries to stop me.

Inexcusable! What the hell is he thinking? Did he grow flowers inside his brain, too? I feel like branding the word “IDIOT” right across his forehead.

Benjamine’s holding me back by gripping my arm. “He acts like that, but he makes sure that all the men who try to come after me are sent packing.”

“Is that true?”

“Yeah. He’s even promised me we’ll go up to the Flower Garden’s Tower later.”

The Flower Tower. The word “tower” does, of course, call to mind an image of some solitary structure, but the Flower Tower is actually filled on a daily basis with people declaring their eternal love for each other—in other words, it’s one of the main places people get married in Doran. The “Tower” isn’t the entirety of the structure, however—that’s only a part of it. As a whole, the complex is referred to as the “Verakkano,” and it’s one of the largest buildings in the Kingdom. Some people have their weddings at shrines, but most citizens of Doran marry at Verakkano.

Today, with most people off work (except everyone working the stalls), and Verakkano open to the general public (just for the day of the festival), there’s a lot of people going in and out of the building, but no marriage ceremonies.

The building is called “the Flower Tower” because, obviously, of the literal tower of flowers sprouting from the top of it—or at least, they look like a tower. It looks like one great, twisted bunch of giant vines growing up into the sky, and on the vines grow thousands and thousands of flowers, making it look like a man-made tower has, indeed, suddenly become one giant flower. In the Season of Distant Skies, they are all just green buds, unfortunately, but right now’s the peak of the flowering season, so they’re quite a sight to see.

The vast majority of the people heading up to the Flower Tower are lovers or married couples going there to exchange flowers. Around the tower spirals a staircase that one can climb all the way up to the top. All the couples say that it’s the absolute best place to exchange flowers in the whole Kingdom.

Even from here I can tell there’s a real crowd going up and down those steps today. With that many people, it wouldn’t surprise me if people got pushed off the top by accident. I pray that doesn’t happen.

Back to Benjamine. “Yeah, I just kind of think of that as an illness at this point. He’s been saying that he’s ‘weak for older ladies with big boobs’ forever. But still, he’s here with me, kind of, so I don’t mind too much. I like that side of him too, I guess.”

Benjamine seems to have come to terms with the kind of person Satanás is. She would’ve been brought to tears before, seeing him like this. Or brought the Hammer of Rage down upon his womanizing head. Wait...they still aren’t formally dating, are they? How long do they intend to continue this kind of relationship? I’m not one to comment on other people’s love lives, but I do wish she’d ask me for help when he’s giving her this kind of trouble.

And even if she doesn’t ask—

“SATANÁSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!”

“And then, you could...uh, huh?”

“I’M GONNA GIVE YOUR PHILANDERING ASS THE BLACKEST FLOWER IN THE WHOLE KINGDOM!”

I create a dark, black flower of ice with my magic and send it flying with a kick right at the face of that unforgivably disloyal lout.

“Why’d you have to be here, Nanalie!! Shit!”

“I’m coming for you, you horny devil!”

There’s a lot else I’d like to say—but Benjamine seems to find that one particularly funny, so I leave it at that. After all, I did land a direct hit with that flower to the face. He’s rubbing his face in pain. “There,” I say, nodding to myself in satisfaction. “All better.”

He scowls back at me and yells, “I don’t feel any better at all!!”

＊　＊　＊　＊

The red couplet flowers are the royal flowers of Doran.

Each and every petal is large, flutters gently in the wind, and is as beautiful as the dress of a princess.

Just because it’s the royal flower, however, doesn’t mean it grows everywhere: they only bloom on the Royal Isle itself. You can only buy couplet flowers at the florist’s shop, and they’re quite popular, so they’re often out of stock.

On top of that, couplet flowers are said to be “the” variety to give to your lover during the flower festival. That must be the reason why there are even fewer to go around than usual right now. There are several types of flowers that can’t be grown using Earth magic, and the couplet is one of those varieties.

So it’s not that easy to just simply grow more whenever you want them.

“Wow, you were able to find some.”

“Guess I got lucky. This was the last bouquet left at the store.”

I’m brushing my face up against the petals of the flowers as I stand next to Yakkurin, trying to get a good whiff of their perfume. The dull pain in my feet, however, makes me crease my forehead in discomfort. I shouldn’t have come wearing brand new shoes. My heels and toes hurt in kind of a strange way. It feels like they’re chafing. Skin is definitely peeling off if they feel this bad.

Maybe we shouldn’t have gone searching every store for couplet flowers after we split up with Benjamine.

Normally, I’d be able to fix this sort of issue with a quick healing spell, but that would require stopping at the side of the street for a moment and taking off my shoes. My skin wouldn’t regenerate unless I directly touched the chafed area.

Of course, if I tell Yakkurin that my feet are hurting, he’ll feel bad, and I don’t want that to happen. I guess I’ll just claim I need to go to the bathroom to get away from him for a moment.

“Oh, sorry!”

As I’m looking down at my feet, a woman bumps my shoulder as she passes me by. She must be in a hurry, because right after she apologizes to me, she continues dashing forward along the road.

We continue walking and after about twenty paces we see a crowd has formed in the middle of the street. Street performers would be showing off their acts here, in the middle of a busy road. I see the woman who bumped into me moments ago disappear into that same crowd. What in the world could she be after...?

Yakkurin looks over at me. “What’s up?”

“Well, it doesn’t look like that’s a performer over there...”

Yakkurin squints, watching the crowd.

“Um, Yakkurin...?”

Setting aside the matter of the crowd in front of us, I really need to “get to a bathroom.” These shoes are killing me. Since flying is forbidden today, I’ll just have him wait for me in front of a store or something.

I tap his arm as I try to get his attention. “I, uh...”

“Wow, now even Hel has someone who she’s having secret dates with, huh?”

“Wha—blerg!!”

Right as we’re passing by the noisy crowd, I hear a certain man’s voice over the excited chatter of the throng. It’s not like I have particularly good ears or anything—just normal hearing, really—but when it comes to a certain individual (an especially unlikable fellow), my body viscerally reacts as it tries to expel the very sound of his voice from my ears. If a hundred people were lined up, started speaking to me all at once, and he was in the crowd—I’d know.

“Sir Alois!”

“Sir Rockmann, please, take some of these flowers, would you?”

“Thanks, but I’m on duty right now, so I’ll grab them later. But I’ll happily take these flowers from this little lady. Whaddaya say?”

“Hooray! Sir Knight-man, here’s your floooowers!”

He’d been buried in the affections of his onlookers, so I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now I can clearly see the head of a tall man sticking out over the crowd. He’d been bent over, so I hadn’t been able to see him before. He stares at me with an unbelievably rude look in his eyes, as if he’s just caught a glimpse of some rare beast in the wild. The expression he’s making with his face and that kind petting thing he’s doing to that little girl’s hair don’t seem like they’re being done by the same person.

“Blergh!” I see him frowning in disgust at my antics before I look away. In the direction opposite of Yakkurin, of course—don’t want to get any vomit on him.

Why’s he here?

“Mind if you stop making those barfing noises? It’s gonna make me embarrassed if you go on like that.”

He motions for the women standing between us to move aside so he can walk right up to where Yakkurin and I are standing. I frown right back at him.

How rude! If he’s going to feel embarrassed when he talks to me, he shouldn’t have called out to me in the first place. “Hmph!” I snort in irritation.

“All you gotta do is just give me a normal answer—”

“No, all you have to do is not call out to me like that—”

And so we begin talking. I can tell there’s going to be no end to this line of discussion so I say “Enough!” and make a big X in the air between us with my arms.

“It really is like Brunel said.” Rockmann glances at my head. “Your hair sticks out so much, I can’t help but notice it. No need to worry about you getting lost, right?”

Rockmann’s taking a careful look at me from top to bottom, noting all the flowers stuck to various parts of my outfit. Did he sound impressed right now? Talking about my hair, of all things?

“Oh, shut up,” I say. “Aren’t you supposed to be working? What could you pos-si-bly want with me?”

I ignore the pain in my feet as I stamp one foot firmly on the ground.

“Well, I was just surprised to see Rigel Yakkurin walking around with a woman, and then I see it’s you.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Captain. Been alright?”

“Well you’ve been pretty busy out in the field, right? No chance to chat when I come into the Soreiyu office for meetings.”

Whoa, hold on a second...are they...acting friendly with each other?

“Doesn’t look like the Order’s got a chance to relax today, right? That’s nothing new, I suppose. Sorry for bothering you on your patrol.”

“No, it’s completely fine—I was the one who called out to you, after all. Enjoy the day. Festival’s only once a year, after all.”

Ugh, with that friendly tone he’s taking with Yakkurin right now, I feel like I’ve lost in some competition of who-has-the-better-relationship-with-Yakkurin. And I’ve lost to Rockmann, of course. I shouldn’t feel this down about the situation. The Soreiyu District is patrolled mainly by the First Platoon, and Rockmann has periodic meetings at the Harré office there, so of course he met Yakkurin before I worked there.

Even so, based on how they’re talking with each other, I can’t quite tell how they think their differences in age and rank affect their relationship. Rockmann doesn’t sound like he’s talking down to Yakkurin, but more like they’re on equal standing. I’m not saying this very well, but he’s casual enough that I could believe they’re friends. Yakkurin doesn’t seem put off by this, in fact, and he seems just as happy to speak casually. I focus my gaze on a point in the air between the two, trying to figure out what the dynamic here is.

“Anyhow, those are some pretty good shoes you’ve got on...did ya steal them?”

I know he’s asking me that insane question. He’s only ever that rude when he’s talking to me.

“I bought them! Brand new!! Stop saying stuff that makes me sound like a kleptomaniac!!”

“Hmm, really? Lemme take a look.” Leaning his chin on one hand, he crouches down to get closer to my feet. He’s infuriatingly observant. Are they so obviously new to him?

He brushes one of the edges of my shoes with his fingers. “Got them from Amalfi’s, I think...”

Guessed right on the first try! Ugh!

The goods they sell there are a bit pricey, and despite the fact that I’ve been going on about how I “need to budget” because I “don’t have much money,” I’d given in and bought them anyway. Some of the aristocrats do their shopping there, it seems, but all I’d wanted was a pair of new, not secondhand, shoes that were tailored to fit my feet. Aristocrats may buy from the same store, but they’re certainly paying for better quality than these.

I was surprised that Rockmann guessed it on the first try. Before I ask how he knew, however, now that Rockmann’s body isn’t blocking my view, I can see that some of the women around us are staring. I can see the same question in all of their eyes: “Who’s that?”

The pretty ladies holding their bouquets of flowers who are looking at me right now don’t have that sharp gleam of jealousy in their eyes that the girls back at school had always glared at me with—they look genuinely confused as their gazes dart between Yakkurin and me. Their expressions are downcast, worried.

I overhear one of the closest women nod at me and Yakkurin and say to the woman next to her, “Those two are definitely together, right? Sir Rockmann just seems like a friend.”

“Oh good,” the other woman says, not even trying to hide her relief.

Hello? I’m standing right here, thank you! Do you have to say it like that? I sigh. Makes sense, though. They’re worried because Rockmann’s talking with me. Jeez, this guy makes me out to be the villain every time he shows up. The well-fitted black Knight’s uniform looks good on him, like he wore it just so women would praise him in the streets as he walked by. Even I’m not going to claim it looks bad.

I heard from Ms. Bell the other day that there were pictures of good-looking male Knights being sold at certain markets, Rockmann’s picture included. I have no idea whether this is something the Order has approved or not, but it’s clear that women really like the title of “Knight” when it comes to choosing lovers.

Rockmann is still looking at my feet.

“Don’t you think that’s enough?” I lift my foot a little to get him to back away. He immediately stands up and retreats to a safe distance to avoid being kicked, then claps his hands together like he’s shaking dust off them.

“Anyway, you gotta be careful not to crush them to bits, okay?”

“I’ll have you know that I take such good care of my belongings that I’m known as ‘Well-Used Nanalie.’ Don’t make fun of me.”

“Are you sure they’re referring to the way you care for your belongings when they call you ‘Well-Used’? Do you honestly think you’re being complimented with that?” He holds one hand over his mouth and tries to stifle a laugh. “I should bid you well wishes for the recovery of that well-used brain of yours.” His hair catches the sun, and right then it looks perfectly golden in the afternoon light, shining like its own constellation of stars.

There’s a crowd around us at the moment so I can’t, but I’d very much like to punch this idiot. My fists are trembling with anger as I hold myself back.

One day I will find your weakness, and I will expose it to the world.

Yakkurin points at the pink flowers Rockmann’s holding in his hands.

“Someone give you those?”

“Oh, yeah, a little lady gave them to me. But look at you—are those couplet flowers you’ve got there?”

“Yeah. I saw that all the Knights have couplet flowers decorating the breast pockets on their uniforms today.”

“By the grace of His Highness, yes, we do.”

“By the grace of His Highness?”

I tilt my head to one side. Rockmann ignores my unspoken question and turns around, saying that he has to get going to the next stop on his patrol.

“Try to enjoy Flower Season,” he says as he walks away.

All he had to say was “enjoy!” I don’t need that “try to” garbage! What a nasty guy. Childish as it is, I stick my tongue out at his receding backside. Yakkurin forces a smile as he sees me do this, then encourages me to follow him farther along the street. “Right,” I say, feeling stupid for having made such a stupid spectacle in front of him. I set aside my annoyance at Rockmann, get back into the festival mood, and take one big step towards Yakkurin as he begins moving again.

“Huh?”

It’s at that moment that I notice that, for some reason, all of the pain in my feet is gone.

The day turns to dusk, and the sun begins to set.

A scarlet veil of light falls over the Flower Tower. I’m sure that right now, all those lovers at the top are completely caught up in the magic of the moment.

The royal family has been flying over the Kingdom since early this morning. They’ll be returning to their castle in the sky soon enough.

Their subjects, on the other hand, will likely go on reveling into the night. There’s no sign of the festivities winding down any time soon. Customers are just now beginning to make their way into the taverns, where they’ll drink the night away.

I’ve got some plans myself. Maris will be waiting for me to arrive up on the Royal Isle.

Oh, that’s right—back when I went to check on how the Director was doing at Harré earlier, wasn’t Zozo at the reception desks along with her and Mr. Alkes? I’d been quite surprised to see her there. That was right after I disentangled myself from another chance encounter with Rockmann, so it was right in the middle of the day.

The sight of the three of them sitting there, all yawning, had been so overwhelmingly dull that it nearly made me forget that today was the Festival of the Flower Goddess.

Zozo had something like an aura of negligence about her as I asked, “Oh, Zozo? Weren’t you going to go against Lady Merakisso’s fortune and—” She clapped her hand over my mouth and dragged me into a corner before I could say anything further.

“Shhh! Quiet, you!” she whispered in my ear. “You didn’t come all the way here just so that I could crush you into little pieces of gravel now, did you?”

“Ah, no ma’am.”

She’d gripped my shoulders rather tightly. Painfully so.

After I gave them souvenirs from the festival outside—the flower crowns and the food—the Director apparently decided it was her turn to take me aside for a whispered conversation. I was concerned that my shoulders were about to be pinched again, so I covered both of them with my hands as I listened to what she had to say.

“I wonder—is it really alright for me to be here?”

“Director, why would you think something like that?”

“Well, I mean, no matter how you look at it, I’m that in this situation!”

“‘That’?”

“...Oh, never mind. It’s nothing, right? I’m too old to be thinking like a schoolgirl anymore about these sorts of things.”

Following that rather bizarre conversation with the Director, Yakkurin and I left the building. The three of them seemed to be completely unoccupied with any real business whatsoever, because as we were heading out the door, I saw them pulling out board games from underneath the reception counters. (Even I couldn’t help but laugh at that.) Yakkurin seemed to notice what they were doing as well. “Ahh,” he said under his breath, “we should’ve brought them toys, not food.”

One day, I will be a good enough receptionist that the Director will rely on me to take her place and watch over Harré on off-shifts like this.

The streetlamps outside had just begun to glow with their warm light. They looked as if they had captured some of that soft brilliance of the setting sun in the space between their glassy panes, flickering and twinkling from time to time. Fire mages had made them, so it wasn’t too surprising to see that, upon closer examination, there really were small flames burning inside them. The dark brown of the lampposts matched the brickwork of the surrounding buildings perfectly, and the sight of them lighting up the town at night warmed the soul.

I look at Yakkurin. “Thanks for today, I had fun. Will you be meeting up with your friends now?”

“Yeah, I promised some of the guys I met earlier that I’d have a drink with them. Though I doubt it’s gonna end at just one drink.”

He gestures as though he’s holding a glass and knocks it back, gulping down the imaginary beer.

“Well, that sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

“You’re gonna see your friend, right?”

“Yes, but I imagine she’ll be a bit stronger than what you’ll be drinking.”

“‘Stronger’?”

“Anyway, I was thinking of giving this flower to her.”

I glance down at the red flower in my hands and think of Maris.

Her hair is that same sort of flaming red, isn’t it? Though I suppose if we want to be technical, it’s auburn, but still, a very pretty color.

“Yeah? ...Well, then I’ll give you this one, so you can have one for yourself.”

Yakkurin takes the flower he has in his hand and holds it out to me.

I focus my gaze on it as it comes closer.

“For me?”

“I already sent some to my mom and dad the other day, and there’s no point in giving it to one of my guy friends, right?”

Aren’t we just “friends,” though? Today’s our first time out together, and I don’t feel as though we have the sort of relationship where he should feel obliged to give me this lovely couplet flower we searched so long for.

I slowly shake my head. “We worked so hard to find these,” I say. “I can’t take that one from you.”

Yakkurin isn’t about to give up that easily. He gently takes my hand and presses the flower into my palm, and then wraps my fingers around its smooth, slender stem.

I stare down at my hands, each holding one red flower.

“There were two left at that store, so I figured I’d buy one as well,” he says, blushing a bit. “But it’s for you. No takebacks,” he adds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, thank you very much.” I say, nodding my head and smiling down at the two flowers. I’ll send him something nice in a few days, to show him I really am grateful for this.

And with that, Yakkurin and I go our separate ways into the night.

＊　＊　＊　＊

Once the royal family has returned home to the Isle, the restriction on flying is lifted. I’m heading up there myself right now on Lala’s back.

“Do you think it’ll be alright if I show up looking like this?”

“Miss Nanalie, you look good no matter what you wear.”

“Wow, you really think so? Wait, that’s not what I’m trying to say...”

I’d gone back to the dorm and changed before we set out for the Isle, but now I’m getting nervous about my outfit again.

I know where we’re supposed to meet, but I’m not sure what we’ll be doing once we get there. I’ve come wearing my best clothes, but still... After Benjamine, Maris usually has the most to say when it comes to clothes, and I’d rather leave her as little room to complain as possible. I’m not so much of an idiot that I’ve come wearing my pajamas—this will be my first time meeting her in a while, after all—I’m wearing the best casual wear I have. Still, will this be good enough? Sure, friends are supposed to accept you “as you are,” but if I showed up in commoner rags to a fancy aristocratic shindig, I doubt Maris would be happy about it.

Before we took off, I shrunk the couplet flower I’m intending to give to Maris down to the size of my pinky and slipped it inside the locket hanging by a chain around my neck, nice and safe. It’s a pretty necklace, but perhaps a bit old-fashioned. It looks classy rather than cheap, however, and that’s what matters for tonight. My mother gave it to me, and it’s useful for carrying things around when I want to keep my hands free.

Couplet flowers, like most other flowers, can have their size changed with magic, but the permanent cantaré types of spells don’t work on them. Invisibility and summoning spells don’t work on them either. On top of that, Earth mages can’t grow them. Perhaps it’s because they can’t be made that the meanings associated with the flower—“true love,” “an honest life,” “purity”—all speak to the truth that there is nothing artificial about them. They possess a beauty that cannot be altered or created with an illusion of magic.

It’s for those very meanings that people often give them to someone of the opposite sex. I, however, intend on giving this one to Maris with the meaning of “true friendship.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

As we approach the Isle, I can see that the landing area where we arranged to meet is filled with horse-drawn carriages. I pull the hood down further over my head to block out the wind as I try to get a better look.

“Lady Nanalie, you are to meet Lady Maris there, are you not?”

“Yeah...but there’s something about this whole scene that reminds me of something.”

Is it the gathering of aristocrats, with their varied carriages stopped somewhere atop the Isle, attended by crowds of servants that is triggering my memory? From what I can see, based just on how everyone looks, no one is wearing costumes tonight, and there are also no commoners among them.

Of course, visiting the Isle is a privilege reserved for the few, and besides the students and teachers commuting to the school, only aristocrats are allowed here, generally speaking.

“Are you referring to the carriages?”

“On that day when I went to that disaster of a masquerade—there were a lot of carriages stopped near the palace steps. This looks a lot like that, is all.” I’m half-mumbling to myself as I describe what I’m feeling to Lala. I don’t see Maris anywhere. I suppose I’ll have a better chance to find her after I land.

There are several other people who’ve also arrived on familiars, and once they land, they immediately blend into the crowd of other aristocrats. At least, I’m assuming they’re also aristocrats. But maybe they aren’t.

I feel a sort of kinship with the others who are arriving on familiars. They’re wearing much fancier clothes than I am, and some of the ladies are wearing pretty dresses, even though they’re riding on the backs of familiars—but still, there’s something about them that feels more like me than like the people arriving in the carriages. I wonder why.

As I descend towards the landing site, I’m guided by a Knight mounted on a pegasus. It’s unusual to see Knights patrolling the skies around the Isle.

“My lady, pardon me,” he says once we’ve both got our feet on the ground. Ah, here it comes. He wants my identification papers now. “Would you mind showing me your Visitation Permission and telling me who might be the Noble Guarantor for your visit?” His Knight’s uniform is pure white, the color of the palace guards.

I straighten up my posture a bit and roll up my sleeves before I respond. “Um, I was asked to come here by one of my noble friends—is there an event or something going on today?”

It’s impossible for me to relax, despite having reached my destination. Am I just another party-crasher, in this guard’s eyes...? I crane my neck as I search for Maris, feeling nervous about the whole affair.

The guard sees my shoulders droop in anxiety, gives me a friendly smile, and politely answers my question.

“Tonight, with the hopes of celebrating another year of prosperity in the Kingdom, all of Doran’s aristocracy is gathering to hold a banquet and ball. High-ranking nobles have been granted the special privilege of inviting a commoner guest, if they so wish—are you perhaps engaged to meet such an aristocrat tonight?”

Well, it looks like I’m not going to be treated like an intruder, so that’s a relief. The chivalrous Knight takes out a small notebook from his breast pocket to ascertain which aristocrat I’m acquainted with.

“Ah, my friend is Maris Hestia Lovegol Caromines, daughter of Marquess Caromines.”

Should I have told him that? Will Maris be irritated at me if I go around using her name to get around the guards?

“Well now, a friend of Marquess Caromines’ daughter, are you? My apologies for the intrusion, but would you mind removing your hood?”

“Of course, sir.”

I pull back the hood on my cloak. I can feel that my hair has turned into a staticky mess from rubbing up against the fabric of the hood, and I run my fingers through it to smooth it down.

“Thank you, my lady. If you wouldn’t mind also telling me your name...?”

“My name is Nanalie Hel.”

“I see. Now then Ms. Hel, wait here a moment, please.”

I give him a courteous nod of assent and wait as he requests, while he moves towards the crowd. Just moments later I hear a familiar voice.

“Nanalie! You made it!”

“Maris!”

The Knight had brought Maris to me—or rather, she had accompanied the Knight back to where I was waiting.

Upon seeing me, she holds up the hem of her dress a little and hurries over. “Hooray!” she says as I begin to run towards her as well, holding out my arms to embrace her—but the moment before I can do so, her fan whacks my head and I fall to the ground with a shrieking halt.

What the hell just happened?

“Hey, Maris, what do you think you’re doing??”

“You were coming in too fast, so I did you the favor of stopping you before you swerved off course! O-ho-ho-ho, you’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

I glare up at her from my position on the ground.

“Whatever. The guard just told me there’s a banquet going on tonight here—what’s that all about?”

“Dearie, you never have anything scandalous to write about in your letters, yes? And an opportunity like this doesn’t come around very often, you know? I thought we might go to the banquet together and have ourselves a bit of a scandalous evening, hmmm?”

“What’s got you thinking about stuff like that? Aren’t normal, completely normal letters good enough?!”

“Oh no, my dear, not good enough at all! We’re best friends, after all, are we not?”

She’s as forceful as ever in her opinions (about me, especially), but the way she’s talking seems a bit more grown-up than when we last met. She’s always been mature for her age, but perhaps the tone she’s taking tonight is due to all the aristocrats around her. Despite the darkening dusk skies, she looks positively radiant tonight.

“Well, when you put it that way, it’s kinda hard to say no.” I heave myself off the ground and fuss with my outfit and hair, trying to look presentable. As I massage my poor red forehead, I give Maris a good look from head to toe.

She folds her arms. “Is there perhaps something on my face?”

“No, not at all.”

Of course she came wearing red tonight. The dress she has on right now is the deepest crimson, with frilly black lace adorning the sleeves. Merely seeing this level of class makes me want to fall on my hands and knees before her queenly getup. It’s overbearing—well, intense, at least. She’s got her beautiful red hair in a tight bun, bound by a decorative silver hair clasp in the shape of rapiakta flower petals that twist and twirl their way down to rest on either side of her head.

Against her porcelain-white skin, the piercing ruby red of her eyes and softer cherry red of the lipstick on her thick, soft lips stand out quite sharply.

I always thought she looked like a little doll, but I must confess that it’s a bit frightening that she’s maintained that image into adulthood.

As she turns towards the party happening around us, the silky folds of her long dress whirl in turn; she looks every bit like a young lady or bride-to-be wearing a soft cloak to hide her pale skin.

I look away from the dress and back up at her face.

“Maris, you’re...really pretty.”

“...I think one of the reasons I enjoy being around you, dear, is the fact that I am able to believe such compliments from you are sincere.”

“Oh, is that why?” I bring my hands up against my cheeks and laugh in that high-pitched manner Maris always does. “O-ho-ho-ho!”

“You stop that right now, dearie!” She gives me another whack on the forehead with her fan, but it doesn’t hurt in the least.

The red road that leads up to the palace is lined with aristocrats making their way along it in a leisurely fashion. Partway along the road, it splits in two: the right way leading to the Royal School of Magic, the left leading to where the royal family of Doran resides, the pure white palace of Shuzelk.

Tonight, of course, we head left towards Castle Shuzelk along with everyone else. Maris is walking beside me.

“How fares your work, dear?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why, are you steadily progressing in your pursuit of your dream?”

We talk about this and that as we walk along. Maris came tonight with her family, but her parents went along ahead to the palace before I arrived. Apparently she’d waited for me at the landing site with a servant. This has nothing to do with what we’re talking about now, but the servant was quite beautiful, exactly the type of woman I’d expect to be working for the Caromines.

“Hmmm, kinda, I guess. Still only halfway there, you know? It’ll take years to become like the Director...but I do my best, every day. How about you, Maris?”

“To what do you refer?”

“You know, your family stuff. You’re going to be Marquise one day, right?”

Maris is the only child of her parents, Marquess Caromines and his lady wife. She’s written a bit about her life at home in her letters to me.

“Well, as a girl I followed my father around and observed his work up close, but now I help him as well. Also, of course, I didn’t mention this in my letters, but I’m an attendant for Her Majesty the Queen now as well.”

“The Queen?!”

By “the Queen” she means “the Queen,” right?

“Only once every three days, though. It’s a role different from that of a servant. I was honored to be named to the position by the King himself. Normally a Duchess would be nominated for such a role, but there aren’t any young Duchesses right now. Sir Alois’s mother, and Lady Norweira as well, assist from time to time, but of course she is with child now, so we can’t ask too much from her. I have to do all I can.”

“Rockmann’s mother is pregnant?”

“Yes, we discovered it was so around the end of the Season of Light, so she’s not quite showing yet.”

He is eighteen years old, just like me. Plus, I’ve heard he has an older brother. I’d not heard one word about his brother back at school, so he must have been at least six years older. Even if we suppose that his mother had her first child when she was fifteen years old, she must be around forty right now.

“Ah, if only I were able to meet a man who would show me such love, no matter how old I became. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

I’d also like a little brother or sister who’s eighteen years younger than me. I bet I’d take great care of them. Were I to express that to my mom, though, I’m sure she’d yell at me to “get pregnant myself!” and that would be the end of the conversation.

“In order to become the attendant of the Queen, does your family have to hold the rank of either Duke or Marquess?”

“Yes, and when it came time to select from the Marquess-rank families, I was the one chosen. An honor, of course, to be able to observe the Queen so intimately, and learn so much from her. And then...”

“And then?”

“Well, Sir Alois spends less of his time at his father the Duke’s residence, and more time at the Knight’s lodge up here on the Isle. We pass each other from time to time as we go through our days, you know. It’s practically Elysium up here for me!”

She’s very excited as she tells me this. Seeing him must really make her happy.

When I’d heard she was corresponding with him, I’d found it odd that his replies reached her so quickly every time.

“You said that you were writing him one letter every three days, and I guess now that makes sense.”

“Oh, indeed! On occasion, he delivers his replies to me in person, wouldn’t you know?”

She’s the picture of happiness as she says this.

No matter how long our conversations, I never feel like we have enough time to talk about everything. Even if a moment of silence stretched out into a longer pause in the conversation, it never got awkward. Neither of us think that not speaking is a “bad” thing, anyhow.

Besides, silence itself can allow for a great conversation. It’s not that we’re such good friends that we never run out of things to talk about—even if we do stop talking, we take casual glimpses at the other’s face, laugh for no reason, and look up at the sky just because. That’s what good friends we are.

“Come on over here, will you?”

As we enter the palace grounds, the red clay road changes to an avenue paved with white brick. Maris pulls me aside, along the path that leads to the garden.

Small trees grow here and there, and beyond waves of green grass lies a large pond...or perhaps it would be better called a lake. The entire garden is immaculately manicured, like some perfect green labyrinth, with brilliant and extravagant fountains placed here and there. It’s like I’ve fallen into a painting.

The last time I’d come to the palace, there hadn’t been much time to take a good look at the surrounding area, but now I can see that it is absolutely stunning. The palace itself is even more amazing, of course, but this garden is so massive that hundreds of houses could fit inside it.

My father, who’s apparently developed something of a potbelly as of late, could do with a run around this garden. Just one lap, Dad. Then you’ll be nice and trim again.

“The garden’s amazing, right? Perhaps I should stop using that word. I feel I’ve been calling everything amazing since I landed.”

“No, you’re quite right. I’d be worried if you weren’t reacting the way you are... Would you mind turning this way?”

Maris, who’s watching me be impressed by the spectacle of the place, has me stand behind a small tree, then takes three steps away from me. Just a little ways away from the road that will take us right to the castle, I am hiding behind a tree in the royal gardens.

I hope no one gets mad at us for leaving the path and coming into the garden... I glance back at the road, nervous that some guard’s coming to haul us off the Isle. Maris, of course, just laughs when she sees me getting anxious.

Hey, gimme a break. I’m not used to all this! Can someone really “get used to” this place, anyway?

“Here we go,” she says, pointing her finger at me as if she’s about to cast a spell.

“Hey, Maris, what—”

Before I can ask what she intends to do to me, she starts reciting an incantation, and a blue light envelops my entire body.

—Shelshel!

—Shelshel!

—Howan!

The magic takes hold of me and twirls me around three times midair before gently letting me back down on the ground.

Something’s different. The instant I’d stopped twirling, I’d felt something different about the way the fabric of my clothes felt against my skin.

“Hey, is this...?”

“It’s rather pretty, don’t you think? Made special for you, by me.”

“By you?!”

The mostly white dress has subtle blue embroidery running over parts of it in the shapes of delicate flowers, vines, and leaves. It’s a dress that reveals my shoulders, which would normally be called “sleeveless,” except that extending from halfway down my forearm to my wrist, my arms are wrapped in transparent, flowing fabric that flutters gently in the breeze.

I lift up the hem of my skirt to see that my shoes have changed as well, to white high heels.

“As it turns out, I’m rather good at sewing.”

“I’m not sure if you can call making an entire dress merely ‘sewing,’ and you clearly aren’t just ‘good’ at it either...oh!”

The fabric around my stomach and thighs tightens. Maris had just twitched her fingers, so she’d probably caused that to happen.

“There, now it’s drawn in a little more firmly around your hips, yes? Oh, by the way, I teleported the clothes you were wearing to my carriage, okay? But I simply couldn’t get rid of that lovely necklace you have on, so I left that as it was.”

I reach up and brush my fingers against the locket holding the small couplet flower.

My fanciest navy blue clothes having gone off somewhere (inside the carriage), I am now wearing a dress that despite the gentle waves in the fabric and lace frill, feels weighty. It feels expensive.

There’s no doubt about it: the dress I have on is nothing short of extravagant.

“I’m to wear this inside the castle...?”

“Oh goodness dear, you aren’t about to complain about my sense of fashion, are you?”

I try imagining how what I’m wearing looks to another person.

Not only are my breasts not as large as hers, I have the barest amount of makeup on my face. I don’t wear that much makeup on a normal basis anyway, but today I made a point of putting on lipstick. Sure, it’s a step up from nothing, but I feel rather guilty that she went to all the trouble of making this dress for me when I don’t have the face to match it.

“Now now! Let us be off!”

Maris seems completely satisfied with my appearance, however, and links her arm in mine as we return to the road leading up to the palace. Well, I suppose that technically we’re already on the palace grounds, but ahead of us I can see the grand entrance doors wide open. As we approach, I notice Knights lining the road on either side of us. Oh, I’m completely out of my element here, aren’t I? I’m despairing at the prospect of yet again being the odd one out inside that hall.

If I’d known we were coming to a place like this, I would have done more to mentally prepare myself!!

“Wait, wait up Maris—I don’t know anything about etiquette or anything!”

Maris totally ignores me. We go through the palace doors, the sight of them triggering the unpleasant memory of when I was last here.

I’ve no idea why, but this year I’ve had a lot of run-ins with rich people at their homes. Illegally trespassing while I do so, I might add. Not that I’m about to tell those stories to anyone here tonight.

No one’s complaining to me directly for being a commoner inside the hall, but still—I can’t relax.

“Is that Lady Maris, daughter of Marquess Caromines?”

“With a commoner friend?”

“Oh, look—Marquess Perry has brought one as well.”

“Still, there are fewer here than last year, I think.”

Practically everyone around me is an aristocrat, of course, and they’re all looking at me and the other rare commoners with distinct curiosity. When this many people are looking at me, with that look in their eyes, they make it quite clear that despite the smiles on their faces, I am not one of them. But it’s not disgust in their eyes—it feels more like admiration.

I’d always heard the noble kids refer to the world of capital-S Society as a constant battle of the competing wills of the combatants—and now I understand why. All these people have clearly spent a good deal of time and energy memorizing the names and faces of all the other aristocrats. Of course they’d recognize the appearance of a new challenger in the court.

Before we entered the palace, back on the road leading up to the doors, I asked Maris if it really was okay for her to be bringing me, a commoner, to an event like this—and she’d told me it was, and for a surprisingly simple reason.

From what she told me, a long time ago, there was a Duke who had said to the King, half-seriously, half-jokingly, “I wish I could’ve brought my commoner friend along tonight.” The King had surprised him with his answer: “Sure, go on right ahead, I don’t mind. You’re an excellent fellow, and I’m sure any friend you brought wouldn’t be a bad addition to the party. But only one, and only for the Festival of the Flower Goddess.” The Duke had assented to the suggestion, and from there the tradition had started. Even now, the houses bearing the ranks of Duke or Marquess could bring exactly one commoner along to the annual banquet and ball that followed the festival.

After she told me this, I was a little surprised myself. Is that so? What a liberal King, I’d thought. The current King, of course, could do away with this exception to the rule if he so pleased, but it’s continued on throughout his reign regardless, perhaps as a symbol of the Kingdom’s peace between the nobility and the commoners.

Furthermore, the Duke had been none other than Premier Querohli! I had started laughing to myself when I heard that part. All it takes to change the course of history is one Great Man or Great Woman—or one Great Weirdo.

Back to the present moment. “Dearie, we studied etiquette a little back at school, did we not? Please, relax! I won’t force you to join me in any of the formal circles. Besides, I’ve heard that Sir Alois is bringing along someone that I’m sure you’ll feel quite at home with.”

“Someone I know?”

Someone I’ll “feel at home with?”

＊　＊　＊　＊

She brings me into the palace’s Great Hall.

“Wow...”

“Come on now, forward!” Maris urges me onwards, but I can’t help but be distracted by how the interior’s changed since the last time I was here. Back then, the walls of the hallway had been decorated with white and gold, with several portraits and landscapes hanging here and there, and the floor had been red. But now we are walking on a verdant green floor, the walls are lined with flower vases, and there’s not a painting to be seen. Once we enter the Great Hall itself, my eyes dart to more differences in the decor throughout the room. The angel that had been on the ceiling is gone, and in its place is a painting of the sun and moon. The glittering light of the crystalline floor is illuminated in certain places, creating the illusion that we are all floating up into the night sky.

Maris notices me gawking at it all. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Like she says, the palace is amazing all by itself, especially the artistic skill displayed in all of the interior decorations. But what I find more astonishing is that everything inside has been changed. Just how many times a month do they redecorate? They must be spending a fortune on interior design.

“It’s kinda cool that this many people can fit inside the Hall, right?”

“I must confess, I find that thought a bit pedestrian, dear.”

The Great Hall is overflowing with aristocrats. It doesn’t look like anyone’s sitting up on the large thrones for the royal family, and I don’t see Prince Zenon standing anywhere either. But at a gathering like this, Rockmann’s sure to be here. Maris had mentioned him earlier. There’s no way he’d miss out on an event like this.

A few moments later, we encounter Maris’s parents, and I greet them like any respectful young lady would. Their hair is the same color as hers. Maris’s mother is incredibly beautiful, and I can see that that’s where she gets that piercing gaze of hers. Her father, Marquess Caromines, on the other hand, has somewhat drooping eyes, but when he smiles I can see a good deal of his daughter in him.

“A pleasure to meet you,” I say to them.

“Oh, are you Nanalie? Thanks for all the interesting stories,” they reply with a smile, and while I can’t hide my feeling that the fact that they hear “interesting stories” about me is slightly concerning, Maris acts like she has no idea what they might be talking about.

Maris tells her parents that we’re going to go around and say hello to a few people, and we leave them behind. I accompany her as she moves through the Hall, socializing with this or that person. She’d said she wouldn’t force me to socialize with any “formal” people, and she keeps her word: almost all of the people we speak with are former classmates.

“Dear, I do hope you’ll forgive me for dragging you around like this—I can’t leave you alone here after all, not that I’d ever dream of doing so. Still, I apologize if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

Maris seems to feel rather guilty as she apologizes for having taken me around to speak with all of her various acquaintances. While I wonder if my presence is a nuisance, if Maris feels apologetic for inconveniencing me, I suppose I’m not a bother to her after all.

Having said that, we aren’t of equal rank, and I can’t help but notice the stares of those around us. Just like on the way up here, commoners in a crowd like this tend to stand out, for better or worse. Even now, well after we’ve arrived, the bearded gentlemen and the ladies concealing their smiles with handheld fans look over at me with rather inquisitive gazes. I might be just overthinking things, of course, but I can’t help but notice that despite Maris telling me to “pay the stares no mind,” the people around me are paying me a good deal of their minds.

There are other commoners here. Please, look at them instead.

I am starting to feel uncomfortable again, so I fix my gaze on Maris’s back, my one safe harbor in these tumbling seas of high society.

“Dear, please! You aren’t a ghost, right?”

“.......”

She doesn’t seem to like me hiding behind her. As soon as I do so, she turns around and places me firmly at her side.

—Tap tap.

Someone taps my shoulder from behind.

I am caught quite by surprise, and my shoulders practically leap out of their sockets at the sensation.

“Yo, Nanalie.”

“Wha... Satanás?!”

I turn my head to the side to find Satanás standing there in formalwear, hair carefully styled. He’s laughing and holding a glass in one hand. He must have used a lot of hair gel to make his silver curls look like that—he’s practically shining. If you’re gonna use that much gel, Satanás, you’d be better off just studying a hair-straightening spell, but you weren’t ever that good at studying, were you? Despite his lack of diligence in his studies, however, he’d always had that knack for being able to pull off a new spell with minimal effort.

But why’s he here, of all places?

“Like I said, right? Someone you can ‘feel at home with,’ yeah?”

Next to me, Maris has one hand over her mouth as she lets out that ridiculous, high-pitched laugh. “O-ho-ho-ho!”

“So you’re here too, Nanalie. I ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout you comin’ here from him, though.”

“Him?”

“Rockmann, yeah?”

“Rockmann?”

Why’s his name coming up right now?

According to what Satanás tells me, he’s been going out drinking with Rockmann lately—not often, but often enough—and during one of those nights out together, he’d invited Satanás to the banquet and ball going on here tonight.

“But what about Benjamine?” I ask, and he tells me that she wanted to spend the evening with her family, and hadn’t asked about his plans for the night of the festival. His face, for some reason, grows a bit gloomy as he says that. Satanás must be confused about their relationship as well.

“Well, I bet Rockmann didn’t even think that I’d be here, so obviously he couldn’t tell you that, right?”

“Oh dearie, I told him in my letters that I intended to invite you, though.”

“So he did know,” Satanás says, cocking his head to one side.

“Why, when Sir Alois informed me that he was going to bring a fool of a man like you, Satanás, I decided that I was going to invite Nanalie.”

“When you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m a ‘fool’ too, you know...”

Now I get it. So that’s why Maris knew Satanás was coming. Putting that aside, however, I still haven’t seen any sign of Rockmann here tonight...

Satanás tells me he’s just arrived, and Rockmann was with him when he came in, but excused himself by saying that he “had more work to do.”

Satanás, of course, being Satanás, had been completely fine on his own. He tells me that he had a grand old time strolling around the room and “enjoying the sights” of all the beautiful women.

This guy’s helpless.

“Why, of course you’re not a ‘fool,’ dear! You’re a rather excellent conversation starter, or should I say, topic of conversation. I’m always telling Mother and Father such wonderfully amusing stories about you, you know.”

“Can’t you just talk about me like I’m normal?!”

“Whoa, not many people will say such nice things about you, Nanalie, yeah? Take good care of your friends?”

“Ugh, you are so irritating.”

Satanás has just been called a fool here, and yet I’m the one who’s being made fun of.

Still, I wonder—had Rockmann known I was going to be here tonight? Back when we met earlier in the market?

“Try to enjoy the Season of Flowers,” he’d said to me.

Ugh. What a truly loathsome man.

“I’ll have you know that I sometimes mention you in my letters to Sir Rockmann, you know, just as a way of breaking the ice between us.”

“Good grief, Maris. Just have a normal conversation with him! You aren’t saying anything weird about me, right?”

“Oh my goodness, dear, ‘weird’? To whatever might you refer?”

“What’s that face you’re making...?”

“It won’t do to speak of such things here! The royal family’s just about to make their appearance, you know, so off we go!”

“Hey! You’re totally avoiding answering me!”

Maris fans herself with her hand and turns her back on me. As I’m glaring at her back, Satanás taps me again.

“She’s a pretty sweet gal, ain’t she?”

Irritating! Irritating to the last!

“Now comes His Highness, the King!”

Near the thrones, an older gentleman wearing a monocle unfurls a long, thin scroll. At his words, all of the aristocrats in the Great Hall lift their heads to look at the dais atop the stairs. Next to each of the thrones, one member of the royal family appears. I see the King, the Queen, the Princes, and the Princess. Prince Zenon, of course, is up there with the rest of them.

Maris and the other aristocrats are beginning to bow their heads in respect. Satanás and I get a bit flustered as we realize this and hurry to do the same.

“Another year has passed, and here we all are to greet another Season of Flowers, in peace.”

The King’s low voice reverberates throughout the Hall.

“By the grace of Pramána, we are here to give thanks for another year of good health and prosperity. May the glorious light of Doran fall into the hands of you all.”

Once the King has said this, Maris gives me an insistent tap on the shoulder. I look over at her to see that she’s raised her right hand in the air, as if she’s holding up some imaginary glass. What in the world...? “You do it too,” she whispers. I look around and see everyone standing in much the same way, one hand raised towards the King.

I nod my head and make a circle with my right thumb and forefinger, just like Maris, and lift it up into the air.

“Cheers!”

When the King says “cheers,” a clear glass appears in my hand. Inside the glass is a red liquid that smells faintly of fruity liquor. I’ve seen the “Magic Toast” spell in books before, but to have experienced it for the first time in this manner is rather delightful.

The royal family, having made their toast, sit down on their thrones.

“Crown Prince Arman has grown up to be an impressive man. I must be on my way to bid him a good evening.”

“Darling, you wouldn’t want to cut the line ahead of Count Riesling now, would you?”

“Oh don’t mind me, please, Baron, you first.”

A great crowd of people begins to form a line leading up to the King. The line is so long that it snakes through the room, curling this way and that several times. This is going to take a while. I take a sip of the wine as I try to find the end of the queue.

“Must be difficult, being King. You have to say hello to all those people!”

“Well, he does have Premier Markin next to him helping out, you know? He tells the King who’s who, so there’s never any trouble with the names. Sir Alois is also standing guard near His Highness as well, should any trouble come up.” What Maris says makes sense. It’d be impossible, even for a King, to memorize the names of every single aristocrat in the Kingdom.

I look beyond the front of the line where the King and the Queen Consort are sitting.

On the four chairs next to them sit: Crown Prince Arman, first in line to the throne, Prince Nortis, second in line to the throne, Prince Zenon, third in line to the throne, and then the youngest, Princess Mislina. All of them look perfectly at ease up there.

Around them, of course, stand the Knights in their uniforms. Rockmann looks like he’s dressed in precisely the same outfit I saw him in earlier. The couplet stuck inside his left breast pocket is still there. Has he been working all this time? My jaw drops a bit in astonishment at the possibility.

“He’s being totally overworked...”

“What was that, dear?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

When I heard he was here, I expected him to have arrived in some fancy outfit, ready to enjoy the party. I shut my mouth and divert my gaze to the floor.

Not everything in life is a contest, but I can’t help but feel somewhat disgusted with myself for having enjoyed the whole day, carefree as can be, while his loathsome face has been working all day. I admit that I’m a little—just a tiny, tiny bit—concerned for Rockmann’s health.

But it’s not just him. Nikeh and Prince Zenon have been at it all day as well, even on a holiday like today.

Even knowing that, however, it makes me feel strange to see my mortal foe—I mean, Rockmann—being treated in such a fashion. It’s like my back is itchy and I can’t reach there to scratch it, or worse, like my very teeth are itching.

You know what? I’m going to work even harder tomorrow.

“Hm?”

I try to get my mind off Rockmann and look at the back of the line. I realize I recognize the person standing there, and he’s recognized me as well. He gives me a smile of recognition, and I give him a slight nod in return.

It’s Duke Rockmann himself. On an occasion like this, I’d expect him to be at the front of the line—but perhaps that’s just me. I focus my attention on the conversation going on between Maris and Satanás. He points one finger up at the head of the long line.

“Maris, are you sure it’s alright, us not going up there?”

“Oh no, whatever are you suggesting? I’m going up there, alright.” She nods her head in certainty. “You’ll be coming along with me, Nanalie.”

“Me, too?!”

Her words are enough to send my blood pulsing in a frenzied tempo as I contemplate the possibility of being face-to-face with the King.

“Heh, good for you,” Satanás says, laughing rather maliciously, as if he has nothing at all to do with the matter. Yet another irritating thing for him to say. I don’t suppose I could drag him along...? I notice then that Maris is looking at me rather closely.

“You received an invitation, despite the fact that you’re not a noble. It would be rude not to make an appearance before His Highness.”

“Can you call that an invitation? All I’ve been given are the scraps of conversation you see fit to involve me in...”

“Goodness me, dear, you stop that nonsense. Satanás? You’re coming with us as well.”

“Me, too?! You gotta be joking!”

I see that even one so chill as Satanás finds the prospect daunting as he breaks out into a cold sweat. The idea of meeting the King is enough to make even the most relaxed among us feel panicked. Now I really want to see how he acts in front of Prince Zenon, all awkward like the little boy he is. (Perhaps this last thought is a bit immature, even for me.)

“Sir Alois is busy up there, you know, and can’t be bothered to accompany you around everywhere, right?”

“Then why’d he invite me anyway?” And now he’s pouting. Child.

“Why, so you could meet with His Highness Prince Zenon, of course. The two of you got along so well, didn’t you?”

“You think that’s why? Huh. I guess Zenon always was a loner, crazy as that sounds.”

“And how is that a convincing explanation of your presence here, may I ask?”

At Maris’s urging, Satanás and I go with her to the back of the line.

Next to me, I hear Satanás still mumbling to himself. “Is that how it is? Yeah, always knew he was lonely, but like, for real though...” Please, please don’t go saying stuff like that in front of Prince Zenon. Imagining that possibility makes me shiver with trepidation, but I say nothing, slowly stepping forward as the line moves, one person at a time.

It feels like we’ve been waiting in line for half an hour. We’re—finally—halfway there. Surprising, really, that this line would be so slow.

I turn to Maris. “Can’t people be a little more...efficient? In talking to the King?”

“Well, maybe...but ‘efficiency’ isn’t something people are thinking about on a day like today. There are quite a few aristocrats here that normally don’t get a chance to talk to the royal family, so everyone’s being given ample time to speak with them, since it’s the day of the Flower Goddess Festival and all.”

I’m the type of person who refuses to wait in lines, even at restaurants. I do believe this is the longest I’ve ever had to wait in line. The realization makes me feel faint.

“You said this was a banquet, earlier—when’s the food coming?”

“It’ll come, in time. Once this is done with. But then we also have the ball to look forward to, so don’t eat so much that you can’t dance.”

Satanás groans behind us. “Ugh, this is taking forever.”

Maris glances around to see if anyone else heard him. No one looks upset. She leans towards him, shielding her mouth with her fan to whisper, in a very sharp tone: “...Satanás, dear, would you kindly keep such opinions to yourself, hmm?”

I may be impatient, but I don’t want to cause any trouble for Maris, like this lout is doing.

“My bad,” he says, laughing and brushing away her fan. An instant later, however, more whining escapes his lips: “But dang this is taking for-e-ver.” Maris whirls around and pinches both his cheeks.

“Ouchhhhh!”

“We’re not going to have any more of that from you, are we?”

“U ’ys r za on’s o’ ’orced ’e ’o ’ome (You guys are the ones who forced me to come)!”

“Oh, that’s right—Nanalie dear, are you aware of why the selection of your final dance partner matters so much tonight?”

Maris completely ignores Satanás, who’s now massaging his bright red cheeks, and looks askance at me.

A little puzzled by the sudden shift in conversation, I nod in response to Maris’s question.

“You told me before, so yeah, I know.”

“Why! Did I now?”

“The last person you dance with is ‘life,’ right?”

Just as there is a song for men and women to have a classical, ballroom dance with each other, just as there is another song where a single dancer performs alone on the floor, there is yet another dance that is supposed to symbolize one’s life. Just as in the fairy tales of old, in each song lies a beginning, a middle, and an end. The final song starts slow and builds to an intense frenzy, only to fade out, quietly solemn at the end. There is a meaning to the order of the songs played at a ball, meant to shape the atmosphere of the room from one extreme to another. The first song, as the beginning of the story, is bright and happy; the next is a difficult, roiling wave of complex harmonies; and then the last song is a slow, slow waltz. Each song fulfills a role in the evening’s proceedings.

The last song symbolizes the end of the story—the end of one’s life. It is for this reason that there is a special meaning implied when one selects their final dancing partner:

“Wasn’t it something like, ‘I want to be together with you until the end of my life,’ or something?”

“Just so. That is why it is so important to choose the right man to dance with, at the end.”

“Who have you had a ‘last dance’ with at balls like this, Maris?”

“Oh, completely tedious gentlemen, my dear. Several times, in fact.” She doesn’t seem to want to elaborate. She puffs out her cheeks, and her eyes look a bit moist at the memories. I can’t tell if she’s frustrated or sad, but it’s clear that no matter what the details of her previous experiences were, they weren’t pleasant ones.

“Who’s Rockmann going to dance with?”

“Sir Alois always dances with either Lady Norweira or the Queen. Or he doesn’t dance at all and merely stands by the wall. At some of the recent balls, however, Princess Carolla of the Kingdom of Sheera was here, so he danced with her.”

“It’s not easy to dance with him, then?”

“There are many ladies who would want to, of course, but they can’t just take him away from the Queen or Lady Norweira now, can they? But he still does me the favor of being my partner for all the other dances, so I don’t mind too much, and I do appreciate that they prevent him from being taken by any other potential partners.”

She places one hand against her cheek and lets out a sweet, soft sigh as she stares dreamily off in the direction of the royal table.

“Prince Zenon does the same, you know,” she tells me. “He either dances with the Queen or the Princess, or on occasion his aunt, Rockmann’s mother.”

“Back when we had that dance during the graduation party, everyone tried so hard to dance with him at the end, didn’t they? Even now, I think it was a bit sad, really, to see them so desperate.”

“Well, I certainly was surprised to learn that you were his last dance, but when the two of you re-entered the Hall, butting heads as though you were wild beasts...! Why, no one could mistake that last dance as having had any special meaning for either of you. I must confess that I was relieved to see you two fighting so,” she says.

“How rude,” I say, only half-serious.

We’d gone back into the hallway yelling awful insults at each other.

“You old lecher!”

“You clumsy hag!”

How did I go from, “One day I’ll beat him for sure, fair and square!” to screaming insults at him at a party? Well, while I can’t quite answer that question, I do know that everything I said to him back then was completely justified. After all, there’s no doubt that he truly is a philandering scoundrel, leading women on wild goose chases for his love.

“Anyway, I don’t know just how far you two go at it with each other, but please do try to keep yourself in check. It’d be quite awful if you injured Sir Alois.”

“As if he’d ever let himself get injured!”

I’ve never once seen him with so much as a scratch on him. I have seen him covered in ice several times, though.

“Oh, is that so? Shall I take that to mean you think he is too strong to be injured by you?”

“Hey! You set me up,” I say, pouting.

“O-ho-ho-ho!”

She’s definitely teasing me right now.

“Hey, look—those idiots are stuffing their faces,” Satanás interrupted.

“What?”

“Um, Satanás dear, please do not refer to aristocrats as ‘those idiots’?!” Maris, who’d been laughing at me just a second ago, has now blown up again at hearing Satanás say yet another impossibly rude thing.

I look over to where he indicated. Those that have already greeted the King and his family are snacking on something... No, “snacking” isn’t the right word. Whatever they’re eating is probably worth more than its weight in gold—they’re enjoying some rather pricey hors d’oeuvres.

“Delicious!” I hear one of the noble ladies say, one hand covering her mouth. Satanás and I are drooling at the sight of the food.

“Nanalie, please—not you too.”

“I’m fine, I swear!”

Yikes, that was close. I casually turn my head away from Maris and wipe the edge of my lips. I’m not even particularly hungry, but just seeing all that delicious food makes my stomach growl...!

“YOUR MAJESTY!!”

As I hold one hand over my stomach, the heavy silver doors of the Great Hall crash wide open and the Knight Commander sprints inside. Following close behind him is a stream of other Knights, filling the room. What in the world?!

Maris looks surprised as well. “Whatever could this be about...?” All of the nobles and familiars in the room are buzzing with interest as they watch the Commander approach the throne.

“Forgive my intrusion! I’m here to warn you that, as of now—”

—BOMBOMBOMBAAAAM!!

All of a sudden, the oval stained glass window high at one end of the hall shatters inward, showering glass everywhere. People standing below it quickly throw up defensive barriers that protect them from the shards.

What could that possibly be?

“Look what we have here—a gaggle of courtly fools drunk on a false peace.”

A man’s guttural voice emanates from a darkly glimmering ball of black light floating above us. It hangs there, indefinite in shape, cavorting from one end of the ceiling to the other. Trying to get a better look at it, I follow it around the room with my eyes. Black, purple, and green. The voice is definitely coming from inside the sphere.

“Everyone stand back!”

“Uh, right...” Satanás, Maris, and I back up against the wall, away from the sphere, like everyone else is doing. The Knights, now with room to spare, dash into formation as they attempt to surround the thing. All of them have their fingers pointed up at it, ready to unleash their magic.

“Goodness, what’s the meaning of all this? What do you suppose that is?”

“No idea. Seems demonic, though.”

I catch a glance of the Commander. He has a ruthlessly ferocious expression on his face—not at all what he looks like when he’s arguing with the Director. So he can be a pretty scary guy after all. My eyes dart back up at the sphere. But what is that thing?

The three of us look at each other. All of us appear equally confused, brows furrowed with worry.

“Ladies, I’ll bet you anything that is a demon,” Satanás says, frowning up at the ceiling.

“But why would it be here on the Royal Isle...?”

Satanás bends down a little to whisper in my ear. “The security around the island—none of that was normal, right? Even we could see that, yeah? They definitely were on their guard, before this even started.”

Sure, there had been a good number of Knights flying around on pegasi around the island, patrolling the approach up to the Isle. I’d thought their presence odd at first, but had dismissed the thought, assuming that having that much security was merely standard procedure when a large number of nobles gathered at the palace.

Even so, just like Satanás says—the security did seem tighter than it should have been. Not that I had had the faintest idea that they were guarding against something like this. The nobles around us look positively beside themselves with disbelief at the turn of events, all of them staring up at that floating sphere glimmering darkly in the center of the Hall.

Clearly an uninvited guest.

“Foul creature! Name thyself!”

The King’s voice has not the barest trace of panic in it. It reverberates throughout every part of the Hall, the mere sound exuding strength.

Rockmann is standing in front of the King, protecting him. Beside him, Prince Zenon glares at the center of the room with a grim expression on his face.

“My name? The King and all of the King’s men know my name. Despite your knowledge of my coming, despite all your Knights standing guard—here I am, having not faced even the slightest difficulty getting here. Pathetic.”

The voice sounds like it is holding back laughter.

“You’re all the same. Sheera, Naraguru, and the rest made the same faces as you fools here in Doran. Comical, the lot of you.”

“What do you seek by coming here, wretch?”

“I desire to see you all quivering with great terror as you gaze upon my exalted self!”

The voice grows louder as it roars back at the King. He leaps off his throne and points one finger at the sphere, shouting, “Knights! Rid us of that infernal devil!” His deep, resonating tone reverberates right down the spines of every single person in the room. I feel his words more than I hear them.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Idiots! You shall not land a single blow upon me!!”

A high-pitched laugh sounds throughout the room as the sphere spirals around overhead.

At the King’s command, the Knights are lobbing spells of exorcism at it, but the sphere dodges them all, edging its way towards the nobles sheltering themselves up against the wall.

But it’s not like the nobles are without magic. Unlike commoners, they are much more experienced in magical combat, and all of them have cast shield charms protecting them from any attack the sphere might make. Satanás, Maris, and I have shielded ourselves in the same manner, of course.

“I’ve no need to trouble myself with you. These little ones shall be enough.”

At those words from the sphere, out from a whirlwind at the center of the room blasts several—no, dozens—of strange-looking demons. The nobles have no choice but to engage these newcomers in battle, and drop their shields to go on the offensive.

“Nanalie! Protect yourself!”

“Wha—?!”

“I can’t just hide behind my shield all day!”

To my left, Maris lets loose fireballs at the demons, while Satanás is, like a good sorcerer, summoning up a tornado to send the demons flying back out the broken window. His phoenix familiar is flying around him to defend against any stray attacks.

The Great Hall of the palace has, in an instant, become a battlefield.

“How...?”

I still have my shield up as I look around. The Knights look like they’re having trouble getting rid of the sphere. Even the Commander himself is fighting along with the rest of them. Prince Zenon is following his example, tossing lightning bolts left and right at the whirlwind of demons pouring into the Hall. The royal family is supposed to be protected, not the protectors—who’s taking care of them? I look up at the dais to see Rockmann’s maintaining a thick, powerfully strong shield around the other members of the family. I can tell just how strong it is from how brightly the magic glitters in the air. The stronger the light, the stronger the shield.

“What should I do?”

I frown at the demons who keep ramming into my shield. What sort of attacks can I use here? I’m not supposed to go around being flashy with my Ice magic right now, so I have to think of something else.

“...That’s it!”

There’s nothing else I can do. I roll up the hem of my dress and pull the Dare Labdos from its leather harness strapped around my inner thigh. I hadn’t been able to display it brazenly on my waist, but it was definitely the right decision to sneak it in anyway.

I lengthen Dare Labdos until it is taller than I am, then slam it down with a bang on the floor.

I’ve had the Dare Labdos absorb several magic circles relating to exorcisms. Wasn’t there one with a wide-ranging area of effect that I could use right now...? I recall the description written in the text where I’d found it.

“Eight times......incomplete..............space.......arrive, God of Exorcism! I summon thee, Banegate!”

I spin the elongated cudgel, and it radiates silvery light. After spinning it eight times, I lower my shield and stab the Cudgel of the Goddess into the crystalline floor. Magic flows from my fingertips and down my staff.

Once enough magic has gathered in the staff, the air around me begins to flow unevenly, causing my skirt to sway in slow waves. I check to make sure no demons are immediately within striking distance, then begin reciting the incantation for this Circle of Exorcism, one of the pieces of ancient magic I learned.

Before I launch head-on into casting the spell, however, I must recite an incantation that will summon a guardian spirit. If I miscast the spell and it reflects back on me, there are several ways in which it might take my life. Every time a mage uses a high-level spell like this, they need to have a guardian spirit ready on standby to take the brunt of the curse that will result from a failed spell.

Guardian spirits are, in this case, a form of insurance.

When a child is given their name by their parents, they are also given a middle name from the ancestors. In my case, I received the name “Persephone” from my great-great-great-grandmother. I love the name, as it was chosen just for me by my parents and has been passed down throughout generations.

That middle name is necessary to use when casting spells to summon a guardian spirit.

There are six types of guardian spirit spells, one for every magic type, and as I’m an Ice-Type, this is my incantation:

—Eternal God and Blood Spirits, I beseech thee

—In my own name of Persephone, I call upon thee

—Light of the Ice Emperor, shine down upon this Flower’d Land

—Freeze Time for Each and Every Living Thing, with your Power’d Hand

—A Bridge to Heaven Open

—Will of Ice, Key to Conclusion Chosen

—Shall Once Again Let Blood be Unfrozen.

“Arrive, God of Exorcism! Banegate, arrive!”

A wind began to blow inside the Hall. Along the crystalline floor, the lines of the magic circle snake around in every direction to encompass the entire dance floor.

At the same time that my circle is being traced, however, I see that a different circle, one gleaming gold, is glimmering beneath my own, deeper in the floor.

Someone else is casting a magic circle as well.

It can’t be...? I look over to where I saw Rockmann standing earlier. He is, like I am, holding out a staff before him—a golden staff, thrust against the floor of the dais.

I’ve no idea what he’s trying to cast, but I also have no time to think about it. I’m practically defenseless without my magical shield, so I get back to focusing on the spell.

“Larger, larger, larger—”

The silver of my magic circle is dappled with rays of gold light cast by Rockmann’s shimmering circle.

The light of both reaches a peak—and the demons above my circle freeze, and then begin to melt into the air. There’s a massive sizzling sound, as if a great fire is causing a lake of water to evaporate. The demons turn to black smoke, drifting up towards the ceiling, then out through the broken window.

The black sphere stops moving as well. Slowly, it descends from its perch near the ceiling.

Doesn’t look like it’s gotten any weaker, though—it’s still darting all over the place like it has energy to spare.

“I’ve had enough fun for one day. But I warn you, Doran—there will come a day, sooner than you think, when Demons shall rule this Kingdom, shall rule the World itself. But today is not that day.”

“That day shall never come!”

Prince Zenon shouts back at the dark orb.

“All I do, I do for you, Städal. For you, my love.”

And with those final words, the sphere cracked apart, disintegrated, and was heard no more.

＊　＊　＊　＊

The sphere is gone, and the Hall is as quiet as a graveyard.

When it vanished with those strange final words, leaving faint wisps of black smoke in its wake, I thought someone might seek after where it had gone. But I look around and see not a single other trace of the black sphere is to be seen anywhere else in the room.

I lift the tip of Dare Labdos off the ground. The lines of the magic circle slither back up inside the cudgel and are gone.

Maris immediately runs over to her parents. Apparently, they are unharmed—as is everyone else here, for that matter. Well, at least we all made it out of that ordeal in one piece.

The palace servants and personal attendants of the nobles are hurrying about cleaning up the fallen chairs and tables and the spilled beverages, putting things back in order with magic.

“Seventh Platoon! Assist with the cleanup. Check all the corridors!”

“Commander, I think it might be best if you allowed me to perform a psychometry right now.”

“Yes, indeed. Go ahead.”

The Knights of the Order go around helping the servants put things back into their places and checking the corridors for any remaining demons, just as the Commander ordered. Thanks to their help, the mess of a hall is returned back to its former beauty in minutes.

“What is that?”

From a little ways away, I see that Satanás has shrunk his phoenix familiar so that it can sit on his shoulder. He’s watching me shorten the Dare Labdos back down to a more portable size.

“This? Oh, it’s uh...a tool I got from work.”

“A tool?”

“Yeah, a tool.”

I could, of course, tell him that it is mine—but it’s also something I got on my first day of work, so I do really feel that it’s mostly a tool for when I’m on the job. I got it from the Gígnesthai Nero inside Harré, and I’m forbidden from telling anyone else about that, so I don’t explain further.

I distract him from asking more questions by twirling the shortened cudgel in the palm of my hand. Satanás still finds my behavior strange—I can tell from the look on his face—but he doesn’t push for answers. “Anyhow, that was amazing,” he says, and our conversation about the cudgel is over.

That’s what I like about Satanás—never pushy, never stubborn. Really glad to have him around.

“But enough about that—did you see me, Nanalie? I was looking pretty cool there while I was fighting, right?”

He’s pointing his thumb at his chest, acting like the cockiest guy in town. I glare right at him.

As if I had any time to look at you during the fight!

“I’ll be sure to tell Benjamine that you wanted my opinion on how ‘cool’ you looked.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring, Nanalie... Anyways, how’s the King gonna explain all this? That black thing talked like the King and the Knights knew this was gonna happen. Alois didn’t tell me anything though...” He looks up at the dais, where Rockmann is still standing.

“Who knows...”

I shift my gaze slightly to watch the King standing firm up on the dais, his expression grim. Rockmann has dispelled the magic barrier, but the King is unmoved as he looks down at all of us.

While the nobles still appear somewhat unsettled from the battle that has just ended, none of them are panicking or up in arms in outrage against the King. A commoner might shout, “What the hell was that all about?!” but the nobles are quietly waiting for whatever the King might say next.

The Knights, who had been busy helping clean up the mess, gather back in the Hall and stand before the Knight Commander and Prince Zenon to give their report, only to disperse and leave through the large doors at the rear of the Hall shortly thereafter.

The Knight Commander remains where he is. Prince Zenon returns to his seat next to Princess Mislina. Nikeh wasn’t among the Knights who’d come into the palace. I bet she’s patrolling the perimeter.

“Hey, that’s Rockmann’s dad, right? So he is here.”

“You know him, Satanás?”

“Just in passing. I saw him when I went over to hang out at Rockmann’s house the other day.”

Michael Rockmann, father of Alois Rockmann, has appeared seemingly out of nowhere and is now standing next to the Premier, speaking with him about something or other. Satanás must’ve noticed him standing there for him to make that comment about going over to “hang out” at his house.

“‘Hang out’?”

“Well, basically. I guess I was really over there to ask him what the plans for tonight were. But then they gave me this awesome food! It wasn’t just the meat melting in my mouth, but the vegetables too! First time I’d ever experienced that in my life, that’s for sure.”

The food he’d been given had seemingly been quite delicious, because now he’s drooling again with his head tilted to one side. That’s right—we still haven’t eaten anything.

I give his face a couple of good slaps to bring him back to normal.

I can’t have him making such a slovenly face at a time like this!

Hmmm...a time like this. I look around the room seeking Dr. Aristo, or should I say, “Count Huey.” I see no one who resembles his small, portly figure—no kind little gentleman.

Everyone is looking up at the King, who seems completely aware of the attention. He closes his eyes for a moment, then, without saying anything, looks down at the upturned faces of the nobles. Finally, like the opening of a heavy, thick door, the King slowly opens his mouth to speak.

“Protectors of the Realm,” he says, “there is something I must tell you.”

Rockmann moves from his place beside the King to stand next to Prince Zenon. The King looks behind him, makes eye contact with the Crown Prince, then turns back to face the rest of us with a little ahem.

“With regards to that demon: for the past several months, that black sphere has been sighted in all of the surrounding Kingdoms—Sheera, Naraguru, Dognis, and Welwedi. Each time, it appeared at an event like tonight’s: one where the most powerful members of the Kingdom assemble together.

“In the interest of peace, friendship, and cooperation, the rulers of the neighboring Kingdoms, and myself, have held Royal Bacches Conferences where we discuss such matters, and it was at such a Bacches that I learned of this creature.

“Just as we witnessed here tonight, the demon had harmed not a soul in the other realms, only appearing to terrorize all those who saw it before threatening them and then leaving the scene. In order not to cause a panic amongst our subjects, we have been cooperating with the other Kingdoms to ensure that all those who witness the appearance of the black sphere are bound by a Blood Oath to not speak a word about it to anyone who was not present.”

The sphere did seem like it was just here to “play,” considering the fact that no one got injured. Maybe it just wanted to scare us.

The King continues, “Knights and Mages of the surrounding Kingdoms have attempted to trace the sphere back to its source, but they have been unable to locate where it comes from thus far.

“Furthermore, in each of the other Kingdoms, the sphere also spoke of this ‘Städal,’ but we have not yet discovered what it means by that. Perhaps it is the sorcerer who controls it, or worse, some other fell creature as yet unknown to our civilization.

“As the matter is still under investigation...” Hold on, is he going where I think he’s going with this?

“What happened here tonight cannot be revealed to the subjects of Doran. There may be a day when they come to know of this menace, but for now, we shall increase the security on our borders. Still, no matter how thorough our defense, a strange being that wields such magic so as to come hither and thither without the slightest difficultly poses issues for us until we can ascertain its nature... Even if we should discover what it is, we must be even more vigilant in protecting our lands than ever before. Beyond your domains, the Order of Knights shall protect the Kingdom, and its people. Until that day on which all shall know of this, however, I must have you bound by Blood Oth not to speak of this matter. Moreover—I have already had the Oath bound upon you all.”

Of course I’d thought we’d have to make a Blood Oath, but for it to have happened in this rather unexpected and sudden manner causes me no little surprise. “Whaaat?” I say, slapping Satanás’s arm next to me in shock. Oh dear. I’ve done it now. Or so I think—but all around me, I hear voices very much like my own, as the room is thrown into a susurrating roar of murmurs, whispers, and exclamations of surprise.

The Crown Prince rises to stand next to his father. “Silence!”

The King continues, “Moments ago, I had the Captain of the First Platoon, our Chief Mage, cast the spell upon you all. I am the one who gave the order. I know it was improper of me to have done so without warning you all first, but should any wish to have the spell removed, I shall now hear your complaints.”

A Blood Oath is, as it sounds, normally an oath sealed in blood, between two people. There’s an incantation, in fact: “Upon this blood, so do I swear: shall I break this vow, may my body shrivel to a dry husk, never to breathe again.”

Basically, you die if you don’t keep your word.

Having said that, there is flexibility allowed for by this spell—the oath-giver may speak to anyone that the oath-caster permits them to, but not anyone else. Plus, the likelihood of actually dying due to this spell is quite low: try and speak to anyone not permitted by the caster, and your mouth will simply seal itself shut.

That means that I can talk to Maris and Satanás about what happened here, but I can’t breathe a word about it to either Benjamine or Zozo. Doesn’t the Blood Oath usually require the consent of both parties to take effect, however?

Others are clearly thinking along the same lines. “But how did he...?”

No explanation is given. The Captain of the First Platoon, Rockmann, who’s standing next to Prince Zenon, merely gives a small bow, then looks back at us with a relaxed, serious expression.

“Oh, I wonder—”

“What?”

“Um, never mind.”

The Blood Oath spell that Rockmann cast—might it have been the magic he was doing with that golden magic circle? I’ve never seen nor heard of a circle like that. He might have made it up himself.

Not a single person whispers so much as a solitary complaint against what the King has said.

But it’s not because he’s scary, or anything. The nobles are, if anything, people with good sense (if perhaps loathsome personalities), so I doubt there’s even one person here who doesn’t understand why the Crown Prince ordered as he did.

“If the Crown Prince ordered Sir Alois to do so, you’ll hear no complaint from me,” says a noble nearby, and others seem to be saying the same. Personally I don’t agree with that line of reasoning, but no one else seems to find it disagreeable, so there’s no room for me to object to having my lips sealed.

Even Satanás, who is often ridiculed by both Maris and Prince Zenon alike as a tactless buffoon, merely says, “Well, guess there’s no helping that,” while sticking his pinky finger up his nose as he continues watching the King.

...Perhaps in his case, it’s beyond “tactless.” The words “Satanás” and “tact” don’t even belong in the same sentence, anyway.

But aren’t I one of “those commoners” who must not know about tonight’s events? I don’t see anyone giving me a funny or suspicious look. I suppose I am bound by the same Oath that they are, so there’s nothing for them to worry about.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“It’s scary how quickly everyone got back into the partying mood,” I say, glancing around at the nobles who are enjoying some lighthearted banter over dinner as we all sit at our tables eating.

There had been no change in the plans, and the banquet began a while ago. Sitting at long tables that stretch from one end of the Hall to the other, all of us are relaxing in white chairs adorned with images of the sun, the stars, and the moon.

While I did say the nobles were “bantering,” the topics of conversation are anything but playful. I catch fragments of conversations discussing how they plan to improve their domain defenses, concerns about the safety of the surrounding countries, and weary complaints about how much they’ll have to take care of once they go home. The nobles may appear to be at ease, but the earlier unrest is certainly not far from anyone’s mind.

I, of course, as a commoner, have nothing to say about such matters. I resolve to focus my energies on the lovely feast before me...but find I cannot, only grabbing at a morsel or two from time to time. The servants behind me are most helpful as they switch out plates of food when a new course begins, but I find it rather difficult to eat with someone standing right behind me. It’d be fine if they weren’t looking at me, but the whole time, they’re just watching me eat. It seems like they’re watching me, the commoner, even more closely than everyone else, because the instant my plate is clear they immediately call out to offer me the next plate.

I’m grateful for the wonderful service, but still—it’s embarrassing.

“Why, of course! Should one get oneself worked up into a state after something like that, why, that person would be entirely unsuitable to be the master of a domain, yes? ...Oh, what is it, Marquise Halmagyi?”

It’s nice of Maris to sit next to me, but she’s busied herself the entire dinner by speaking with this or that noble about various aristocratic obligations. I just try to stay out of her way, lower my inquisitive gaze, and sip my drink.

“Hey, you...the young lady with the blue hair? Might you be acquainted with Miss Maris through your time at magic school?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. We were quite inseparable back then.”

“Well now! Why of course you were,” the lady says, smiling.

Sometimes, people do talk directly to me, so I can’t shut everything out.

“Mother, please! I’ll have you know that Hel, back when we first knew her, sicced her vicious wolf on us? Don’t you remember me telling you about that?”

“Was that so?”

“...I can explain—”

“Haha! Mother dear, I’m only joking. Hel got along very well with all of us, from the very beginning. Right?”

One of the young noble girls who I shared a classroom with for six years has a rather forceful smile on her face right now.

...Here we go. Noble girls, ugh.

I am at a table with relatively high-ranking nobles, thanks to the fact that Maris is sitting next to me. I’m trying to recall every bit of etiquette I ever heard about and staying out of her way as much as possible.

Still, I am doing better than he is.

I know several of the people up and down the table, so I’m not too nervous. A bit of light teasing and intimidation feels practically nostalgic, really.

But then we have Satanás.

“Oho! A friend of Alois, aren’t you?”

“Yessir.”

“Alois just told me that you get along well with my son Zenon as well, hmm?”

“Yessir.”

“He also said you were a sorcerer. Tell me, how’s the situation—”

“Yessir.”

Woe unto us all. Satanás is sitting in the chair closest to the royal family.

＊　＊　＊　＊

The night goes on.

“Yessir.”

My poor friend Satanás has, as far as I can tell, not moved an inch the entire night.

He probably doesn’t want to look flustered in front of Prince Zenon, but he doesn’t seem to realize that the whole serious act he’s putting on right now isn’t effective at hiding his nerves in the slightest.

It’s not like I can see everything that happens from where I’m sitting, but I bet that right now, Prince Zenon is watching Satanás and laughing to himself. No doubt about that. He’s always the one making fun of everyone else, so it’s kinda nice to be able to sit back, relax, and enjoy seeing him freeze up in discomfort for once.

“Oh, by the way—have you decided to whom you shall give your couplet flower?”

“I’m planning on giving it to a friend.”

“Well now, isn’t that just lovely.”

As Lady Halmagyi asks me about my flower (or at least, I believe that’s her name—that’s what Maris called her, at least), I brush my fingers against the metal of my necklace.

I wonder, what time is it right now...?

The window, which had been shattered by the demon earlier, is now back to normal. I can see the light of the stars above the Royal Isle shining through the windows. It’s not quite the middle of the night...but I don’t know any more than that. Up here, off the ground, my sense of time isn’t as good as it usually is.

I’ve been sitting here eating all the while, so my stomach hasn’t growled once, fortunately. It’s not like I’ve been satisfied by the amount of food being served to me—it’s more that inside these walls is an excellent chef, who is selecting the most excellent ingredients, all in order to create cuisine par excellence, the taste of which satisfies me completely.

Delicious, really. That’s all there is to say about this feast.

I decide to give my stomach a bit of a break and look up at the ceiling. Compared to when I’d first arrived in the hall, I can see that the painting of the sun is slowly disappearing as time goes on, while the painting of the moon is growing more vibrant.

“Awesome,” I whisper under my breath, honestly impressed by the effect.

The Lady sitting next to me hears me. “Good heavens, dear, is this your first time seeing something like this?” She smiles a bit as she looks at me. According to her, the paintings function as a sort of clock, so that when the sun is entirely gone, we will know that it is midnight.

I’ve seen picture clocks in action before, of course, but never anything like this. I’d like to stay here the whole night, watching it every moment as the picture slowly fades away.

“No, I’ve never seen anything like it. In fact, I’d be quite content to simply stare at it the rest of the night,” I say in reply to the Lady’s question.

“Oh, what a cute thing to say!” She laughs, sincerely enjoying my own enjoyment. Her daughter, however, reacts in precisely the way I’d expect a noble girl to react.

“Hahaha! Hel knows nothing of shame, Mother. That’s why she’s so fun to watch!”

I know she’s not complimenting me. But neither do I feel like she is intentionally trying to insult me.

“Lady Hel, might I have a moment?”

“Lady Hel.”

For a good long minute, I try to figure out who’s being addressed here, before realizing that someone is trying to talk to me. I turn around in the direction of the voice.

Behind me, where there had been a servant taking my empty plates and replacing them with full ones, stands someone else I don’t recognize.

“...Pardon me?”

I never dreamed that one of the palace servants would refer to me as “Lady.” You’ll forgive me if my reaction was a bit delayed, won’t you?

Even the servant has a wry smile on her face when she sees my confusion. My dismay at failing to respond immediately, however, must be easily apparent. “Sorry for not realizing sooner,” I say, but the servant instantly shakes her head to dismiss my apology. “No trouble at all, my lady.”

“Umm...” I say, “you needed me for something?”

I don’t even have a name tag on, but she somehow knew what to call me anyway.

I’ve fixed my posture so I don’t look like a slouch, when I feel the eyes of the people around me beginning to look my way. I point at myself one more time, just to really make sure it’s me the servant was referring to.

Maris has been paying attention to what’s been going on. “Might you have some business with my friend here?”

“Lady Hel, please allow me to escort you to that seat over there.”

“That seat”? What is she talking about?

I squint as I look in the direction she’s pointing.

“...Isn’t that...?”

The servant woman, who’s dressed all in black for the evening, is, if I’m not mistaken, indicating the very table where Satanás, Rockmann, Prince Zenon, the King, and the rest of the royal family are sitting. I can also see the Queen, the Crown Prince, the second Prince, Duke Rockmann, and the Premier all sitting nearby as well—or rather, they are sitting at the exact same table. I can also see that the expression on Satanás’s face has changed not one bit. I’ve always had good eyesight, fortunately enough for times like this.

They can’t really want me over there, right? I quietly whisper to the servant. “Are you referring to where the King and the Duke are sitting...?” To my consternation, she nods “yes” and gives me a smile. Her eyes seem kind enough, but I am not so moved by her kindness that I feel compelled to go over to that table without complaint.

There’s got to be something wrong here, right? Someone messed up. In all my eighteen years of life, this has got to be one of the three strangest things someone’s ever asked me to do. Scratch that—this is definitely the strangest thing someone’s ever asked me to do.

Why do they want me over there in the first place? While I sit silently, shaking my head slightly from side to side in disbelief, Maris inquires about the situation to the servant, who tells her that the King himself has called me over to his table.

Me? Out of all the millions and thousands of subjects he has? A commoner? Who he’s never met? And he’s calling me by name? What in the world is going on here?

“The King wants to see Hel?”

“The King called for Nanalie? Whatever might he want, I wonder? With the demon barging in and all, we weren’t able to make our greetings, though, so perhaps he wants to make up for that.”

“Lady Hel, please—this way.” The gentle, pretty servant steps up to stand directly beside my chair and proffers her hand to help me out of my seat. “If you would?”

I honestly have no idea what he could possibly want from me, but there’s no telling what people will whisper if I act like going over there and talking to the King is some unpleasant ordeal. I force a smile onto my face and nod slightly, wiping any trace of worry from my expression.

Maris and the other noble girls look concerned at how long I’m taking to get out of my seat. Not that this has anything to do with them! Lady Halmagyi pats my shoulder, saying, “It’s nothing to fear, child! Go on now, it’s quite alright.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Well, I can’t just sit here bewildered all night long. I hop out of my seat, feeling a bit unsteady as I try to stand—but Maris steadies me with her hand.

This is exactly why I don’t like wearing high heels or long dresses. They’re impossible to walk in, and it’s incredibly difficult to maintain one’s sense of balance. They are, however, both items that Maris made special for me...so I guess I should get better at wearing them. I feel a bit better knowing I have these lovely clothes on to go and see the King.

“Thanks,” I say to Maris.

“Take care,” she says, her face now filled with a different sort of concern than before. The servant leads me away, and so I go, approaching the royal table.

The conversations at the tables where other nobles are sitting seem to become more lively as I walk by, and I think I hear something like laughter as well.

＊　＊　＊　＊

A servant brings me over to the table where the top-ranking VIPs in this whole room full of aristocrats are sitting. Among them, with hair black as Prince Zenon’s and sharp, strong eyebrows is the King of Doran, Zerolight Bal Atterga Doran. Next to him sits the beautiful Queen with pale gold hair, Marte Bal Orzman Doran.

“Naru Satanás was just telling us something rather interesting: the magic Circle of Exorcism we all saw earlier had been cast by one of his friends—you.”

Just moments ago, I could not have possibly imagined what I am now doing: kneeling before the King and Queen, about to sit down at their table. My stomach had been growling, eager for food as we sat down to eat—but right now it feels as though the dinner started yesterday, or rather, several years ago, with how slowly time seems to be passing.

The people sitting at this table, nobles among nobles, are too brilliant to look upon directly. Each of them have this halo of capital-R Royalty about them that is positively blinding. Surely they couldn’t have actually intended for little old me to come sit with them, right...? I look around the table once more. Goddess, please, let this be over quickly. Being stared at by aristocrats is bad enough, but these stares from the royal family are nigh unbearable.

“You may return to your post.” The King waves his hand in the direction of the servant who brought me over to the table, and, quietly, she steps away from my side and goes back to her work serving food.

Wait up, Miss! Don’t leave me here alone. It’s not like I actually know her personally or anything, but I had felt a good deal more relaxed with her at my side. I watch her head back towards the kitchens.

She’s gone. My hands suddenly start shaking, so I interlace my fingers and press them gently against my lower stomach. Relax, Nanalie. I’m so nervous I can barely breathe. I’m sorry, Satanás. I shouldn’t have made fun of you earlier.

“Lady Barossa, this ragú is divine!”

“It’s a rather complex burst of flavors, don’t you agree? Fresh and lively. Reminds one of youth, yes?”

“Ah, but it is the fruit that has ripened to its full flavor that is even more heavenly, my lady. I prefer not the ‘fresh’ or ‘lively’ flavors of simple youth, but the deep body of more mature delicacies, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh goodness, Sir Alois! My husband is right here with us, you know.”

Ugh, I hate that he gets to see me all nervous like this, while he’s just stuffing his cool, calm face with his “heavenly” foods. Rockmann’s sitting next to a Lady, looking as though he’s having a grand old time. Since he’s still technically on guard duty, I am somewhat surprised to see him here, relaxing and eating like this, but he’s paying absolutely no attention to me as I stand near the King.

Not that I particularly mind being ignored by him. To be honest, I’d rather he’d not look at me at all—for the rest of his life, actually. In fact, Rockmann, you really should stop flirting with that married lady—her husband sitting across the table looks as though he’s about to burst into tears.

“He told me that you wanted to introduce yourself to the King—me, in other words. Now then, join us! Sit over there.” The King points at a seat next to Satanás and Rockmann. The tablecloth draped over the dining table is white, so painfully bright that I have to squint. The three delicate tines on the silver forks are as pointed as phoenix talons, while the cups are thin, round vessels resembling golden drops of morning dew. My cup is, at some point, filled with a purple liquor, whose vapor tempts my nose with whiffs of something supernatural.

After I sit down, I give Satanás, sitting next to me, a quick glare.

“Satanaaaaaaaaaaaaas...” I quietly growl at him.

“.......” No answer.

You damn bastard, quit running your mouth about me, would you? I take back my apology. You are a complete idiot. At what point did I say that I wanted to “introduce myself” to the King?! Pretty bold lie, even for a scoundrel like you.

Satanás is acting as though he cannot sense my gaze at all, and merely blows his nose. Rockmann, sitting on the other side of him, doesn’t appear to notice my irritation.

What’s the deal with Satanás? Surely he can at least acknowledge that I’m here, right? Maybe he feels bad for putting me into this position, or something. Based on the way he’s acting, though, it doesn’t seem like he was trying to rile me up by having the King call me over. He actually looks more relaxed than he did before. “Birds of a feather flock together,” right? His only other “friend” here is Rockmann, after all.

Still. For all the awkwardness I’m going through right now, I wish all that overly-gelled silver hair on his head would fall right out, right now, in front of everyone.

“Miss Nanalie Hel, yes? That was a lovely magic circle earlier.”

“I am honored to hear you say so, Your Highness.”

The King interrupts my train of thought as I sit here stewing in my resentment for my “good friend” Satanás. He calls me by name—my full name, at that—before I’ve had the chance to introduce myself. Satanás must’ve told him my name before I came over.

Having the King himself know and call me by name sets me quivering even more than I was before.

“The staff you wield is similar to Alois’s, is it not? Perhaps it is the same type, even?”

“Why, I wonder if that’s so? I’m not well versed on the finer points of magical instruments, so I’m afraid I can’t quite say...sir.”

I surreptitiously slip my hand under the table to pat my right thigh, where the Cudgel of the Goddess is fixed in its strap under my dress. Right as I’m about to tell him more about the Dare Labdos, the King waves away my explanation. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t realize,” he says, and then changes the subject to something else entirely, going on about magic circles.

I’ve no idea why he just apologized to me, but I’m glad I don’t have to talk about that anymore.

“That circle looked a great deal like an exorcism circle I once saw in a school textbook. I remember the circle being quite complex. For your staff to have created a circle that large, why, it’s a sign of just how much magical ability you have. You truly are a most excellent witch.”

His words make me feel uneasy. All I did was produce a magic circle, once—why’s he going on like this, talking about what an “excellent witch” I am? Not even my parents talk about me like that. I look down at my hands, fidgeting a bit out of embarrassment.

It is, of course, a nice thing to be praised by other people. There’s no greater honor than to be complimented by His Highness the King himself. But there are people—friends and enemies alike—who are much more “excellent” than I am. The compliment doesn’t sit right with me, knowing who I know.

“You were also a great help with that business with Alois as well, weren’t you? Michael told me all about it.”

Ooooh. Now I feel a whole lot more uncomfortable. I look up to see how everyone else interprets his words. “That business with Rockmann” is clearly referring to what happened at the masquerade, back when I was pretending to be that somewhat over-the-top “Lady Butterfly.”

Just remembering that night makes me blush. It’s definitely going to go down in history as one of the more embarrassing nights of my life. If I could, I’d very much like to wipe the memory from my mind entirely.

“‘That business with Alois’? Father, what are you talking about?”

I’m over here cringing to myself at the mere mention of that night while next-in-line to the throne, Crown Prince Arman, looks over at his father with suspicion written across his expression.

“Were you...” He turns to me. “Is he saying that you, too, fell head-over-heels for Alois?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.”

‘You too’? What’s that supposed to mean?

This is my first time seeing the royal family up close like this, but they’re talking to me like we’re old acquaintances. They don’t actually care about my romantic interests...do they? The Crown Prince is waiting patiently for me to elaborate. As if I’d ever fall for him! I try imagining myself being all lovey-dovey over Rockmann. Nope. Can’t. I cringe even further at the very idea of liking him in that way.

“Haha, I’m only joking. Of course you wouldn’t want to talk about something like that in a place like this. A witch like you, well, you’re not that easy to win over, right?” The Crown Prince had only been joking with me. Apparently.

“Hahaha!” He laughs, and I, who have no idea what the appropriate reaction is in a situation like this, merely “hahaha” as well.

“A witch like me”? What is he trying to imply by that? I don’t think I’ve laughed this awkwardly in a long time. The last time was when Professor Bordon made some lame dad-joke in class, I think.

“Nanalie, don’t be so tense. My brother makes jokes like that around every girl he meets, so don’t take it personally.”

“Prince Zenon...”

“Hey, bro, when you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m some unchivalrous flirt!”

“Well, you are, aren’t you? For an engaged man, you certainly—”

“Zenon, you’ve always been a bit stiff! You gotta limber up, yeah? Let me give you a massage.”

Prince Zenon, who’s sitting across from me, had tried to save me from an awkward conversation with his brother—but found himself entangled in a sibling spat as a result.

Well, thankfully we’ve moved on from yet another problematic subject, so let’s just be quiet and see if we can’t talk about something less...sensitive. I let my gaze wander up and down the table. Each member of the royal family really does have that face, and it’s so...perfect. Do you have to look like that to be a ruler?

The Crown Prince has a beard of a somewhat lighter color than that of his father, the King’s, and it looks like he gets his facial features more from his mother rather than him. The Queen herself has hair more white than gold, so it really does look like their characteristics were mixed together quite evenly in their first son. Prince Zenon, however, is the only one of the children that has that same sharp set to his gaze as his father—the Crown Prince’s eyes are much softer.

“Ah, dear brothers of mine, at it again! Brother Arman, please, do try to be an adult, sometimes at least.”

“Mislina, you taking Zenon’s side again?”

“Why of course! Brother Zenon is my ideal husband, you know. Brother Nortis cannot possibly understand why, I’m sure.”

Second in line to the throne, Prince Nortis, looks even more like his mother the Queen, as he’s the only one of the royal children with blond hair. He has it cut quite short, however, shorter than any of his brothers, so his silhouette is the sharpest and most well-defined. He’s also rather muscular. At first glance, he looks more like the Knight Commander than a royal.

“You told me that Alois was your ‘ideal husband.’ Don’t just call someone your ‘ideal husband’ on a whim, got it?”

“What’s wrong with saying I like the things I like? Brother Nortis, I do believe you’re jealous.”

“Mislina...there you go again.”

Both Princess Mislina and Crown Prince Arman have that same aura about them, and out of the four siblings bear the strongest resemblance to each other. Her long hair, which likely stretches all the way down to her waist, is right now tied up into a tight bun, and on top of her head rests a golden tiara. Framing her dark eyes are her thick eyelashes that flutter gently every time she blinks.

Prince Zenon had, at some point, told me his little sister was so cute that he couldn’t help but brag about her to all of his friends. Now that I’ve seen her in person, I suppose I can understand why he said that. Her personality seems a bit grating, but straightforward. A little sister to dote upon would be cute regardless of how she acts, I suppose. Until tonight, I’d never seen Rockmann’s older brother or his Lady mother either, but they are, of course, as beautiful as the rest, with that royal blood of theirs.

“Is that what happened with ‘that business with Alois’?! Good grief darling, don’t treat these children like they’re your playthings.”

“Oh, come now, don’t be so cross with me.”

The King’s just finished explaining what happened at the masquerade, and the Queen has folded her arms. She looks distinctly peeved to hear the details of how Rockmann and I were manipulated that night. Her pale, translucent blue eyes are fixed upon the King’s face, looking as though she is attempting to pierce his visage with her gaze.

Despite the fact that we are all here talking about him, Rockmann is showing not the slightest interest in joining in on our conversation.

“But setting that matter aside, Miss Nanalie Hel—Harré must be full of wonderful people like yourself, no?”

The King changes the subject in an attempt to distract the Queen from her displeasure. He’s the King of an entire realm, but even he relies on such basic methods in his attempts to escape from the wrath of his wife.

Hold on, I didn’t tell him I work at Harré. How’d he find that out?

The King must have picked up on my surprise, because the very next moment he tells me that he “heard from Michael” about my situation. I glance over at Duke Rockmann, who says nothing, but smiles. Nobles can all make that same, knowing smile. It’s kinda sus, if you ask me. If I could have my way, I’d like to pull the King aside right now and have an in-depth discussion about how his family should be more discreet with information concerning the personal lives of his subjects. I don’t have the guts to ask him for a private audience concerning that, of course.

Next to me, Premier Markin lifts a finger as though he’s just thought of something.

“Isn’t there a fellow named ‘Alkes’ over at Harré? Former Vice Commander of the Order? A commoner, but even so, a supremely talented person.”

“Captain Carlos of the Second Platoon was born in a commoner family as well.”

“Ah, if only that regretful incident could’ve been avoided, I’m sure that both of them—”

Duke Rockmann coughs. “Premier Markin,” he says, interrupting him.

The Premier lowers his eyes and frowns. “Ah, my apologies.” Had he just been about to say something...improper?

He’d been talking completely normally, but something about that “regretful incident” must have not been meant for commoner ears like my own. But more interesting to me had been the Premier mentioning the name “Alkes.”

I wonder if he’d been referring to Harré’s own Mr. Alkes? If so—I have no proof that he’d been talking about the Mr. Alkes I know, but if he had—it would make sense why the Knight Commander speaks to him so politely every time he sees him, considering that Mr. Alkes had been the former Vice Commander. Presumably.

Mr. Alkes is a little older than the Commander, so it would make sense if the Commander had been his subordinate back when Mr. Alkes was Vice Commander. It would also explain why Mr. Alkes was so gifted and knowledgeable a mage—if he had been high up on the Order hierarchy, he would’ve had extensive experience fighting with magic.

“Carlos” must have been referring to another male employee at Harré, a man older than Mr. Alkes. I’ve heard rumors that he too is a former Knight, and for his name to come up in conversation like this must mean that those rumors are true.

“I’ve spoken with Director Theodora Locktiss several times as well. She is a truly brilliant woman. I am quite proud that Doran is honored to have someone like her serving the public like she does.”

“She was chosen as one of the ‘Top One Hundred Sublime Mages of the Modern Age,’ after all.”

“Markin, you were on the selection committee for the Hundred, weren’t you? Did you put in your vote for Locktiss?”

“No, I nominated Borizurie from neighboring Vestanu. I knew Locktiss would be selected even without my help.”

Just what I’d expect from our Director Locktiss: all of the most important people in the Kingdom are talking about her, even though she’s not in the room.

The reason Director Locktiss is so well known amongst the nobles is due to her involvement in the Black Pegasus murders ten years earlier, when one of the Knights killed a mage and set off a whole series of events culminating in Director Locktiss saving the world, basically (or so I’ve been told). She’d been just a regular employee working at Harré at the time.

The “Pegasus” part of the name referred to the magical animals the Knights rode, and the “Black” part referred to the color of their uniforms. Before the whole thing happened, members of the Order were commonly referred to as the “Black Pegasi,” but since that fateful incident and the sheer cruelty of the violence that had occurred, the term had lost its neutral nuance and was used more as a slur against the Knights.

It had all happened when I was seven or eight years old. The details of the incident had been inappropriate for children to hear about, apparently—not a single adult ever told me exactly what happened.

Curious child that I was, I of course wanted to know more, but as time passed, my interest waned, and all I know is that “something happened” back then, and not a whole lot else. I’ve no idea why the Director, who hadn’t even been a sorcerer, had become the “savior of Doran” at the time of the incident.

If I looked into the library inside Harré I’d probably find some answers, but regardless of the details, Director Locktiss is certainly a good person to look up to.

“As long as Borizurie is in Vestanu, they will have peace, of that I’m sure.”

While everyone around me is talking about the Director, I suddenly realize something rather strange: we’d all just gone through a demon attack, but there’s not a single person at this table even so much as obliquely referencing the whole ordeal. The most anyone has talked about what happened so far was the King’s compliment of my magic, but neither he nor anyone else have mentioned the subject any further.

I suppose they’d prefer not to talk about that sort of thing in front of a low-born commoner like myself. Still, it’s weird. How can they sit here so calmly and happily, eating this feast, despite the battle we all just went through? I ponder on the matter silently for a moment. Perhaps for the royal family, demon attacks really are just an everyday occurrence. Or something.

“Well now, isn’t that a lovely necklace!”

“Oh, this? It’s something I got from my mother.”

The Premier, who had just been talking with the King, strokes his mustache as he looks down at my neck.

“I see, from your mother? Mothers truly are wonderful creatures. No matter how old you are, they truly are lovely to have around.”

“My mother is an archaeologist, and sometimes she sends me antiques she finds at work. This is one of those finds she made. Right now, I have a small couplet flower inside the locket here.”

“Meant for someone?”

“Yes, sir. I’m going to give it to my friend.”

“Ah, is that so!” He claps his hands together in admiration. “Even more beautiful is this lovely color of hair you have! Did you dye it with magic?”

Premier Markin speaks to me about one thing after another, always with a friendly, happy smile on his face. He asks me so many questions I hardly have any time to feel nervous, and the more we talk, the more relaxed I become.

“No, sir. It used to be dark brown, but when I learned my magic type, it turned this color.”

“Oho, I’ve heard that happens sometimes. It’s said that those who go through that have great magical ability. There’s no definite proof for that idea, but you do indeed seem to have more ability than the average person, that’s for sure.”

The more magical ability one has, the more likely it is that the spells one tries to cast will be successful. You can’t just look at someone and sense their ability level, or feel it when you touch their skin or anything else like that, put powerful mages are said to be “gifted with great ability.”

“What types are your parents?”

“My father’s Fire. My mother...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“She told me she doesn’t do sigil magic, so she doesn’t need to know her type. She doesn’t have a familiar either, and she says she’s fine with basic combat magic.”

I don’t know my mother’s magic type. My mother herself doesn’t seem to have much interest in knowing what her own type is, for that matter. I once asked my father if he found this lack of interest on my mother’s part odd, and he told me that he “really really!” wanted to know. Thinking about this brings back memories of my father, middle-aged and all, jumping up and down as he said this.

After a while, he’d also said something like, “I’ve always been into mysterious women, you know...like Mimilie...” I’d understood very little of that remark, and he’d gone on muttering to himself, looking out the window like he was daydreaming or something. As long as he and Mom are happy with the situation, I guess there’s no reason for me to worry about her type.

It’s not like not knowing my mother’s magic type inconveniences me in my everyday life. That said, one’s magic type is said to be a highly heritable trait, so perhaps my mother is an Ice-Type, just like me.

“Among commoners, it’s rather common not to know one’s type, is it not? Still, for an archaeologist not to find her own identity worth investigating—now that’s rather curious, don’t you think? Anyhow, what’s your type?”

The Premier pushes up his glasses a little and smiles as he asks me this.

“Oh, right, I’m—”

Ice-Type. Or so I nearly blurted out.

Yikes, that was close.

Wait—actually, maybe it’s alright to tell him?

Here at the table sits the King and other VIPs of the Kingdom. Most of them probably already know that I’m an Ice Mage, right?

“Sorry about that,” I say. “My type is—oooh...huh?”

My vision suddenly blurs.

My body...doesn’t feel right. I feel like I’m about to throw up. It’s like someone is grabbing my head and shaking it from side to side, that’s how dizzy I am. I feel as bad as the first time I got drunk.

I lay my elbows down and rest my forehead on the table.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“Hey, Nanalie, what’s up?”

The Premier and Prince Zenon are both stretching their hands out to me in concern from across the table. For having just met him, the Premier sure is nice, but I’m glad I have a good friend like Prince Zenon in my life.

...As if I have time to be thinking about the joys of friendship!!

At the same time that my vision had started blurring, I’d heard a ringing in my ears. With the nausea, the dizziness, and the strange shaky feeling all over my body—I wonder—I’m losing grip on consciousness, but I try snapping my fingers to test my theory before the world grows too dark. For a second, I feel better, but then I’m back to spinning inside myself, falling further and further away from the world in front of me.

I knew it. You can’t fool me. The temporary reprieve following the snap had proven it: someone’s casting a spell on me.

“You alright? Your face is the same color as a demon’s.”

Whoa there, Rockmann. What’re you trying to imply?

Not only is he just now deciding to acknowledge my presence at the table, he’s also making fun of me, from what it sounds like.

“This—this is—a healing spell won’t—”

I don’t want him getting all concerned about me. I know what the problem is: someone’s casting a Confusion Hex on me. A healing spell isn’t going to work in a situation like this. It’s a spell meant to corrupt the senses of the target, so they can’t tell up from down, causing their vision to spin round and round. Chaos.

I don’t know who’s hexing me, but I don’t want to cause a fuss right here in front of the royals, so I grit my teeth and try to hold it together. Professor Bordon had always told me that “at least when it comes to grit, Hel, you’ve got more grit than anyone else here, that’s for sure.” I’d asked him if simple “grit” could overcome an opponent’s spells, though, and he’d told me “no.” Sure, grit isn’t enough all by itself, but it is helping to keep me conscious. Who the hell is this hexing bastard? What’d I ever do to them?

If I could just negate the hex—but I can’t. At least, not by myself, and that fact is the most frustrating part of this situation. No matter how many compliments I got earlier, not being able to protect myself from an attack like this is embarrassing. It’s just a Confusion Hex!

“Goodness, the girl’s in quite a state. Perhaps the liquor didn’t agree with her.”

“Father, since it doesn’t appear to be poison, could we just allow her to rest in a palace guest suite?”

“Yes, that would be best.”

I’m trying to keep myself up with every last bit of strength that I have, but I’m about to fall out of my seat from dizziness. Someone grabs my shoulders, though, so I don’t fall. Next to me is Satanás—he probably held me up. I can’t hear anything going on around me. I don’t have the energy to care about who’s touching me at the moment.

Since I can’t snap my fingers, I have to use an incantation to dispel the effects. I immediately try forming words with my mouth, but my lips and tongue don’t cooperate and I’m unable to so much as whisper a fragment of the spell.

Dammit! Isn’t there some other way? I’m being tested in my abilities as a mage right now, aren’t I?

I’m unable to move any part of my body at all—but even so, I am moving, or more precisely, floating through the air, limply, like some old towel being carried outside for laundry. My hands are waving through the air. Ahhhh... It’s like I’ve turned into one big seaweed plant, tendrils twisting this way and that in the currents of the deep, blue ocean...

I bet I look fabulously shameful to everyone around me, hanging in the air like this.

“Why, bless my stars! Nanalie dear, pull it together!”

That’s Maris. Maybe it’s Maris who held me up, not Satanás. Even though she’d been sitting halfway across the room at the time.

My vision has completely clouded over. It’s like I’m inside a raging sandstorm, alone. I’ve no idea where I’m being taken or what’s going on around me. Once more, I try snapping my fingers—but I can’t summon the energy needed to even twitch my thumb.

Damn you. I’ll hex you twice over for this, whoever you are. Once I learn your identity, O Mysterious Caster, I shall curse you and all your children, grandchildren, and every other future generation that carries your blood, in perpetuity. You shall all be cursed to have the absolute smelliest of feet. Your grandchildren’s grandchildren shall know my vengeance.

Well, maybe cursing all your children and grandchildren is kinda harsh. I guess I’ll limit myself to making sure you have smelly feet.

“I’m gonna have her sleep in one of the palace guest rooms. Don’t worry about her.”

“But...”

From somewhere very close by, I hear what sounds like Rockmann’s voice. My body feels as though it’s hanging over his shoulder, and he’s got one arm around my waist. Just like you’d carry a basket of laundry on your shoulder as you pull down the dried items from the line outside. I’m literally being “objectified” right now, aren’t I?

Ooooh, I don’t want to think about that anymore. I don’t want to think about anything. My head hurts.

“I’ll give her some medicine, and when she wakes up, she’ll be fine. More importantly, Maris—a radiant lady like yourself likely already has a partner for the dance tonight, but if by some miracle you don’t have a partner, what do you say to dancing the first song of the night with me?”

“Uhhhhhh what? ...Yes? Yes! Yes, of course! Please, hurry up and go drop off Nanalie so we can get to dancing, okay?”

Jeez, Maris. You really gotta sell me out like that? Or should I say, throw me out?

Her mind must be filled with thoughts of the ball that’s about to start. It’s sad to hear her sounding desperate for affection like that, but she’s so honest about her attraction to Rockmann that rather than irritating, it comes off as rather endearing.

And, setting her aside—did Rockmann just ask a girl to dance with him while carrying another girl around on his shoulder?! Unbelievable. He’s practically demonic!

“You...demon...”

“Demon?”

“Oho, she must be hallucinating,” or so I hear the King say to Rockmann. “Hurry along and take her to a guest room.”

Ugh, just trying to process words right now is hurting my brain.

I can only sort of hear what Rockmann says in reply to the King. If I try concentrating any harder, I’m definitely going to throw up.

And then, the next moment: consciousness slips away from me, and I fall into pure darkness.

＊　＊　＊　＊

After Nanalie lost consciousness, her entire body went limp. She weighed down more heavily on Alois’s shoulder.

Her unbound hair rubbed against Alois’s cheek and spilled down to his chest. Alois, who’d realized Nanalie had lost consciousness, left the table as the King had ordered, smoothed out the ruffles on his Knight’s uniform with one hand, then slipped one side of his long, blond hair behind his ear.

Strands of someone else’s hair kept rubbing against his face. He gently pushed away those differently-colored hairs.

“Will she be alright...?”

Maris, who he’d tried to calm by telling her that Nanalie would be fine, seemed to be worried sick herself. Nanalie hadn’t told Maris she was feeling ill at all, so for her to have collapsed so suddenly like this had caused her to clasp both hands together in prayer as she watched her friend’s still form draped over Alois’s shoulder. Nobles from the other tables had also noticed something was going on, and were staring at him as he slowly carried her away.

“I’ll go too.” Zenon stood up to accompany Alois.

Satanás, now alone at the table for royals, watched the two of them begin to leave. “Come with us,” Alois said, calling out to him.

“Hey, Alois—can’t you just let a servant take care of her or something?”

“Mislina, come on—”

“But Brother Zenon, she’s not someone you need to go out of your way to help! It’s the servant’s job to take care of people like that.”

The instant Alois heard her words he stopped, turned around, and spoke in a voice loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Careful now, Princess. I’ll have you know that this person here is an Ice-Type.”

Alois said this gently, with a smile, but the Premier and several of the other aristocrats tensed up at his words. There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t know what was going on with Ice-Type witches, after all. They, who clearly hadn’t imagined that Nanalie was one those witches, turned their eyes away from Alois to look at her sleeping face.

“We’ve instructed all of the Ice Mages in the Kingdom to hide their true type. We’ve also instructed them to report anyone who asks them what type they are, no matter how casually. Please do not speak of these matters beyond this hall. Should you fail to keep your silence about the lady on my shoulder, it’s quite possible you may be suspected to be a spy from Orcinus.”

Satanás raised one eyebrow at this speech from Alois.

Didn’t he just tell literally everyone in this room that his friend—my friend—is an Ice Witch, and then warned them against telling anyone else? Isn’t that a bit contradictory? he thought.

“Markin, you spoke to her too much,” King Zerolight said, nodding his head at Alois’s warning. “Let us all be vigilant against those who threaten our Ice Mages.” He placed one hand against his chest, saying to Alois, “Thank you for the reminder.”

Alois nodded and said, “The Knights of the First Platoon have cast guarding spells over every Ice Mage, so that any curse cast upon them will reflect upon the caster. This one, however,” he said, tilting his head towards Nanalie, “has the tendency to break any protective spells we put upon her, so we need to be extra careful around her.”

“Oho,” the King said. “Why might that be?”

“The fact is, she’s extremely sensitive to any spell cast upon her, even healing spells. Without even consciously being aware of doing so, she snaps her fingers to lift the spell the instant she senses it.” Alois glanced around the room once more, to meet the eyes of all those still watching.

“So that’s why I must ask you,” he said, “please do not attempt to cast a spell on her.”

His voice was gentle as ever, but his eyes, his crimson eyes, were narrowed and glowing sharply with the true intensity of his emotions in that moment.

＊　＊　＊　＊

Down the hallway walked three young men, one with a woman over his shoulder.

Posted at regular intervals down the hallway were castle guards, the White Knights. Whenever they realized that among the men was Zenon, each of them, without fail, bowed deeply.

Upon arriving at a palace guest room, Zenon opened the doors and invited Alois and Satanás inside. The room was adorned with green wallpaper and had a large square window hidden by a red curtain. Covering almost every inch of the walls of the room were fancy wooden bookshelves stuffed with books. Also inside the room was a glass pitcher of water sitting atop a small table, as well as a white-gold dressing table with a mirror atop it. The room, which looked to have been carefully arranged by the servants, was absolutely spotless. Not a speck of dirt or mote of dust was anywhere.

“You told us all to keep quiet, but then you blathered the secret to the whole room!”

The instant the door had closed, Satanás, who’d been just itching to say something about Alois’s earlier revelation back in the Great Hall, opened his mouth to voice his opinion. It sounded like he was making fun of him more than anything, but Zenon, who was likely imagining how the Knight Commander would’ve reacted, sounded quite serious when he said:

“You’re right, Satanás. But we need to have Hel become a delicious piece of bait for our quarry.”

“Huh? ‘Bait’?”

Satanás looked utterly confused as he raised his voice and tilted his head to one side.

Alois took Nanalie, who he was still carrying over his shoulder, over to the bed at the center of the room and carefully laid her down on her side. The smooth sheets creased in response to her weight, and the soft mattress embraced her sleeping form gently.

Alois let out a sigh of relief at the weight being lifted off his shoulder, and sat down in a wooden chair next to the bed. He laid his elbows on top of the sheets as if exhausted, and looked over at Nanalie, whom he’d put to sleep with his Confusion Hex.

He was impressed with how long she’d held out against the spell. A normal person would have lost consciousness almost instantly, and yet she’d resisted its effect for a good while.

“After that demon disappeared earlier, everywhere from here all the way to the other side of the sea smelled of magic. If we’re going to find out what that thing really is, we’re going to have to leave the Kingdom. But first we need to take care of this Orcinus business.”

“Will you really be able to trace it?”

“Should His Highness feel like it, he can easily figure out where it went, you know. You could too, Satanás, if you put your mind to it.”

“Well, I don’t feel like doing that at all.”

Three Ice Maidens had already disappeared in Doran. They had disappeared before the alert was sent out. They had been marked as “missing” at around the same time a number of others had vanished without a trace.

The First Platoon had tracked them all using psychometry, and all three of them had gone first to the Kingdom of Sheera, then to the Kingdom of Orcinus. Curiously enough, they hadn’t been kidnapped: all of them had left Doran of their own accord.

What was unknown, however, was whether all three of them had coincidentally happened to feel like going on an international adventure at the same time, or whether they had been manipulated using magic.

Then there was the question of why Doran was on alert against Orcinus: it wasn’t just the matter of these “kidnappings”—also, the Queen of Orcinus had been discovered to have been attempting to perform some awful rite, according to the secret investigations of the Seventh Platoon.

Were ten people to be told the details of what she was attempting to do, all ten of them would find themselves overcome with a desire to vomit at the horrid, grotesque plans she had for her captives.

Several people had already been taken out of Sheera, and there’d also been some who had consciously chosen to go to Orcinus. Once the alert had gone out, of course, no one had been allowed to leave Doran. It wasn’t like the King could declare war, however, without definitive proof that his subjects had been taken captive, nor could he begin negotiations for their release without revealing what he already knew. Doran simply hadn’t had enough information to act upon at that point.

“Yuck, Rockmann—bait? Really? You’re the bait...”

While the three of them were talking, Nanalie mumbled something in her sleep as she flipped over to her other side.

“Hahaha! Even asleep, she’s a sharp one, isn’t she? I don’t think we need to worry about her being attacked.” Alois laughed as though he had just seen something incredibly amusing.

Satanás, on the other hand, looked exasperated at how casually Alois was treating the situation. “Well actually, I think we do need to worry. When you said she was an Ice-Type, there was one person who seemed to react—suspiciously.”

“Just as we expected,” Alois said, nodding to himself.

“Did you have someone already in mind?” Zenon asked, holding one hand against his chin. “Are you saying that there’s a traitor among those people back out there?”

“Who knows? If I had to say, I bet that any traitor out there right now is itching to get their hands on her. After all, that’s how humans are, right? Tell someone they can’t have something, and they want it all the more. It’s like you and your feelings for Feltina.”

“Shut up you idiot, that’s totally different.”

Satanás tried to get the conversation back on track. “But Nanalie’s our friend, right? Can’t we just come out and ask her, say, to ‘be our bait’? Sure, that’s an awful thing to ask a friend to do, but it’s better than saying nothing and forcing her to do it anyway.”

“I’ve never once thought of this foolish lady as a ‘friend,’ you know.”

“Wow, you’re awful. If Maris hears you talking like that, she’ll hate your guts.”

“Hmmm...that would be troubling.”

Alois lifted his arms off the bed and stood up from the chair. He stepped over to where the pillows were, saw that Nanalie had her mouth slightly open, and laughed. There was a little bit of drool dripping out from the edge of her mouth.

Alois lifted up the silver necklace Nanalie was wearing and slipped open the locket with his thumb. With a click the hinges sprung open, and just as Nanalie had said earlier, inside was a couplet flower twisted into a ring.

“I don’t suppose you could try saying cuter things in your sleep, for once...?”

After he’d checked the inside of the locket and closed it back up, Alois blew gently on the chain of the necklace. Each breath he blew was gold.

＊　＊　＊　＊

I awake the next morning to the sound of birds chirping.

I yawn, rub my eyes a little, then head over to the sink and brush my teeth like I always do, swishing around some water inside my mouth afterwards, then dabbing my lips with a towel. Ah, wait, I have to wash my face, too. I turn the faucet again, splash some water on my face, and feel refreshed and awake.

Now then, let’s get to making some breakfast. Once I walk into the kitchen, however, I glance up at the ceiling and become lost in thought.

“Hold on—how...?”

How did I get home last night?

And here I was, all excited about giving her this flower, only to pass out before I could do so... Whether it was because it had been in the dark for too long, or in too cramped a space, the flower inside my locket had withered to a dry, brown color. All that work, gone to waste because of my carelessness! I had sat on my bed for a good long while before work, hugging my knees against my chest, face beet-red with sad frustration. No amount of magic would return the couplet flower to its original vibrance. Realizing that made me feel even worse.

“Hello. Please, take a seat.”

“Hey there, Ms. Hel.”

A client has come up to my reception desk, so I snap out of my depressed reverie and fix my posture.

Focus, Nanalie, focus! I shake my head to rid myself of such sad thoughts and give the client a big, happy smile. It’s none other than Mr. Petros, the pharmacist. I’ve often seen him around town when I’m out shopping, and he’d greet me whenever he noticed me walking by. We still haven’t had anything approaching a full conversation, so we’re just acquaintances, really. He’s even so nice as to sometimes give me vegetables when we happen to meet. Because of that, I suppose, he’s got this Boy-Next-Door vibe to him (although I’d never refer to him like that to anyone else, as he is definitely too old to be called a mere “boy”).

From what I understand, he was born and raised in the western part of Doran, but he moved here because there was a better market for his skills.

“What sort of request might you wish to make today?”

“Well, the truth is, I’ve run into some trouble lately.”

Mr. Petros showed me and Zozo a pane of glass.

“Is the issue with this glass?”

“Nah, that’s not glass—it’s a dragon scale.”

“Dragon? Are you quite sure it came from a dragon?”

This scale’s just as transparent as a piece of glass. It didn’t have sharp corners but smooth, rounded edges, and was about as thick as the first joint on my forefinger. It’s my first time seeing one, now that I think of it. We aren’t actually sure whether there is a dragon living in Doran, technically speaking—twenty years ago, there was a sighting of a yellow dragon in the Margrell District, but that had been the end of it. Whether they still exist at all anywhere near our borders is unknown.

Why does he have the scale of such a rare creature?

“I got this from my father,” he says before we have a chance to ask him, and then goes on to elaborate how his father had come to possess the item. “A long time ago, my father, who was also a pharmacist and sorcerer—an alchemist, in other words—learned that some injuries and illnesses could not be cured with healing magic, but were treatable using dragon scales. So he left the Kingdom, looking for a dragon. This is the last scale left from what he brought back.”

“So that means you won’t be able to make any more of that special medicine once this is gone, right?”

It seems like Mr. Petros is in quite a pickle.

“Yeah, that’s right. Of course, I’d like to go myself and find another dragon if I could, but I’m not that good with magic... I don’t think I could hold my own against a demon, let alone a dragon. Bit embarrassing to tell you that,” he says, blushing and scratching the back of his head, averting his gaze a bit.

“But Mr. Petros, you have nothing to be embarrassed about at all! Everyone has things they’re good and bad at, and all the people around town sing your praises whenever I ask them about your medicines!”

From what I gather, all he needs are the scales of a dragon, so on top of the request form I write, in big letters: “SEEKING DRAGON SCALES.” Because we are only looking for this dangerous creature, not seeking to kill one, we don’t conduct a preliminary investigation, which means that the sorcerer who accepts this request will have to do so without knowing just how risky fulfilling it might be. The dragon the sorcerer finds might breathe fire, have sharp spikes on its body, or even possess a tail like that of a scorpion’s, ready to poison any adventurer it might encounter. It’s impossible to say what they’ll find. As a result, only highly experienced sorcerers will be offered this request.

There are three classes of sorcerers here at Harré: Associate, Trade, and Master. “Associates” are new, untested sorcerers, “Trades” are allowed to take on requests that are limited in the danger involved (they are allowed to take on simple demon exorcisms, however), while “Masters” are full-fledged sorcerers that are allowed to take on any request Harré may offer. They are also allowed to eat at the Harré canteen for free.

In order to progress up the ranks, the sorcerers have to fulfill a set number of requests: for every promotion, they have to complete at least ten dangerous requests, like ten demon exorcisms.

Benjamine and Satanás had (at some point) become Trades, and recently have been taking on more assignments that involve demons.

“We should limit this request to Masters, don’t you think?” I say to Ms. Zozo as I show her the form.

“Yes, I think so. ...Mr. Petros, we’ll be labeling this as ‘Masters-Only,’ is that alright?”

“Yeah. I know it’s a dangerous thing to ask for. I’d really rather only have those who can come back home in one piece take the job.”

Marking the request as “Masters-Only” does, of course, double the reward. “How does this amount look?”

He nods his head, smiling. “Looks great. With those scales, I’ll finally be able to work on medicines for the heart.”

“For the heart?”

“There are a lot of types of injuries and illnesses that can’t be fixed using magic, but the most troublesome are those that involve the heart. If you drink a dose of a normal medicine, by the time it reaches your heart, most of the magic has been absorbed by the blood, so it’s not very effective. Mix in some dragon scale, though, and the tiny crystals will retain the magic for a good deal longer than a liquid, so the medicine stays strong enough to have a real effect inside the heart. I hope I’ll be able to make some soon.”

I’m impressed by how knowledgeable and passionate he seems about his trade. His medicine must be the best in town—no, the whole Kingdom!

Every time I go out drinking, I make sure that I pass by his pharmacy so that I can purchase some of his hangover medicine. I’ve offered bottles to my co-workers after particularly heavy nights out together, and I’m sure it has saved them from a major headache the following day. I’m pretty sure I even have five spare bottles in my room back at the dorm. Still, I should stop by and buy some more before I spend a night out at the bars again.

“Alright then,” he says, nodding his head. “I hope that takes care of everything. Thanks for the help, you two.”

“Of course,” I say, smiling.

“We’ll be in touch,” Zozo says, waving to him as he walks back out the door.

After finalizing the form and sending it over to the sorcerer-receiving desks, Zozo and I go back to how we were before Mr. Petros came in. We haven’t had many requests relating to demons lately, and the Season of Flowers will be over soon enough. I glance out the window and catch sight of another pegasus flying overhead.

Zozo wants to continue our conversation from earlier. “But let’s save that until the Director can join us for a little chat,” she says. “It might end up taking a while.” She winks at me, then changes the subject. “Oh, that’s right—Nanalie, have you decided to start, you know, ‘dressing up’ a little?”

“What do you mean?”

“That necklace—it’s pretty.” She points at the silver necklace around my neck.

“Well...to be honest, I can’t take it off.”

“Huh?”

“Um, I tried yanking it this morning, but even then, I couldn’t get the clasp to loosen.” The necklace is too tight to slip off over my head, and so I’d also tried cutting it off, but I don’t mention that. It’s rather irritating to be unable to remove it, considering the fact it feels hot against my skin from time to time.

Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more; my mother found this mysterious necklace in some far-off archaeological site. It might be cursed so that once worn, it can never be removed.

“Why don’t you try undoing the clasp?”

“It’s stuck. My mother got it for me in some far-off country, so maybe there’s some other way of removing it, but I have no idea what that might be.”

“You should ask your mother later, then. Having that on all the time would be quite inconvenient... I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to sleep with that on.”

She’s right. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Mom what’s going on with this thing. If she tries to dodge the question by saying she “doesn’t know” how to remove it, I’ll graffiti her fancy vases, or something, until she tells me what the trick to getting it off is.

My pen, which I had used to sign the copy of the request form, is still lying out on my desk. I stick it back inside my light brown leather bag. Anything else to clean up...? No...? Great, time to go.

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Good work today! You’re stopping by the Director’s office before you leave, right? You do start doing reception for sorcerers tomorrow, after all.”

“Yes, I am!”

Tomorrow, I’m finally going to sit at that desk. I feel like I’m walking on Cloud Nine as I get up from my chair.

The Director had promised me that after spending a month in the Soreiyu District, I’d be able to start doing reception for sorcerers. She’d told me to stop by her office on my way out when she greeted me this morning. It’s been nine months since I started working here, and Flower Season’s already halfway gone—but I’m getting done with my training much quicker than I thought I would. Rather impressive, if I do say so myself. Still, I can’t get so self-satisfied that I get ahead of myself and start making mistakes on the job. I clap both hands against my cheeks to stay focused, trying to keep myself from grinning too widely.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“Excuse me, Director Locktiss? ...Hmmm, maybe she isn’t here...?”

Upon entering the Director’s office, I see that it’s empty.

When she spoke to me this morning, she told me to wait in her office until she was back, so I resolve to stand in front of her desk until then. That wooden carving of a lynx is still on her desk, in exactly the same place it was last time I was in here. She must really like the thing, because on top of its head lies a white couplet flower. Well, artificial flower, I should say. It feels like it’s made of fabric. Even our fearless Director has a taste for cutesy things. Not only that, but she’s beautiful, super cool, and is cute herself in a lot of different ways. Everyone knows that. Even the guys at Harré who tease her by calling her some “spinster” are just saying that because really, they like her. Not like they’d ever be able to start dating her or anything, with a man like the Knight Commander always around.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

After a while alone in her office, I hear the door behind me swing open.

“Sorry for taking so long,” she says, walking past me to fumble with something on her desk. Her hair looks like a bit of a mess, indicating that she’s a bit frazzled. But it’s not only her hair that tells me how she’s feeling—her eyelids seem like they’re practically drooping with exhaustion.

She must be so incredibly busy with something, I think, worried. I probably shouldn’t ask what it is, though—I’m not like Ms. Harris or Mr. Alkes, I’m just a first-year employee.

“You’re finally getting started at the sorcerer desks tomorrow, right? Do your best, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Here’s just a few papers you can use for reference on the job,” she says, handing me a notebook thicker than the width of my palm.

On the cover of the red notebook is something written in spiky Tekkru characters: “Whose shadow do you walk in?” Sheera, Doran, and a couple of other nearby Kingdoms use Tekkru characters in their writing. In order to open the notebook, I have to write the answer on the cover, below the question.

“Now, decide what your passcode will be,” the Director tells me.

I think carefully about something good to use. I walk in the shadow of...birds? No, trees...? No, those aren’t good...maybe my mother or my father? No, that’s too simple—oh, what about—

“Lala. My answer’s Lala.”

I summon up the image of my Blanc Lykos familiar and write her name across the cover.

“Finished?”

“That was kind of fun,” I say.

“Really? I’m glad you think so,” the Director says, looking out the window behind her chair. I follow her gaze to see that there are more pegasi outside.

There sure are quite a few pegasi flying around Harré. Must be a busy day for the Order. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Nikeh in awhile—I should send her another letter. Even if I send her letters, though, she can’t find the time to meet with me, it seems... Two months ago, I’d gone out to tea with Benjamine and Nikeh, but that had been the last time I’d seen either of them. Must be difficult, being a Knight. Nikeh had practically inhaled the cookies we enjoyed at our tea. Seeing her like that had made me a little concerned.

I wonder if she’s on the pegasus flying up there right now...? I squint as I look to the west. The sun’s setting, casting a red tint all across the landscape.

The Director is looking outside, the same as I had just been doing.

She’d told me earlier that she wanted to explain things to me about tomorrow, but for her to be silent for so long after passing me this notebook... I glance down at the red thing in my hands. I guess she must be telling me to try figuring it out myself? I look back up at her. It doesn’t seem like that’s the message she intended to give me. If she tells me that I shouldn’t keep bothering her about details for tomorrow, I’ll head right out of here, but before that, I do want to thank her, for giving me this opportunity to be doing sorcerer reception sooner than I’d thought.

“Um, Director Locktiss?”

“...Oh, yes? What’s up?”

“It seems like you’re a bit distracted at the moment, so...”

She turns around and blinks a few times, refocusing her gaze on my face before laughing a bit to herself. Still looks tired, though, even with that smile.

“It’s just—being protected by someone you find so irritating is rather irritating in and of itself, don’t you think?”

“Someone irritating”? What does she mean by that?

As I’m about to ask her if she’s referring to the Knight Commander, a dim light glows above our heads, near the ceiling. I look up to see a small magic circle up there, and out from the middle of it falls a roll of paper tied with a thread. The Director catches the roll, opens it up, and runs her eyes across the message written on the paper.

I wonder what that’s about. Who conjured that circle anyway?

“Finally,” the Director sighs, looking visibly relieved. “Nanalie?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Just a few moments ago, the Queen of Orcinus passed away.”

...Huh?

“Huh?!”

“And so now I can finally tell you—”

What the Director tells me next is so surprising that I feel as though, while I’ve been living my everyday, happy-go-lucky life, someone has jumped out from behind the bushes and whacked me across the face with a frying pan.

The Great and Beautiful Water Witch, the Queen of Orcinus, Valentina Dal Bena Orcinus had, according to the secret plans of the three rulers of Kingdoms Sheera, Vestanu, and Doran, passed away from this life without the citizens of any of the four realms knowing how she had died.

Her passing is said to be due to illness, and her son the Crown Prince will immediately ascend to the throne of Orcinus in her place. Or so the Director tells me.

“Was she...killed?”

“Yes, she was.”

The Director leaves out some of the details, but goes on to describe how Queen Valentina had gathered together all of the Ice Witches from throughout her Kingdom into her court and then killed them all. It sounded as though she had been collecting something from all of the Ice Witches, but what that something was, the Director doesn’t elaborate on.

I’d heard that rumor from one of the Knights, about how the Queen of Orcinus had been “attempting to secure supplies of dragon blood and mermaid flesh in order to preserve her youth.” Could she have also been trying to collect the still-warm blood of Ice Witches? ...What an awful thing to do. Stop it, Nanalie. You can’t accuse a Queen of trying to do such things! ...Let’s just stop thinking about that altogether.

The Palace Guard, unable to refuse a direct order from the Queen due to the spells placed upon them, had left Orcinus in search of more “Ice Maidens” to bring back to her.

No doubt that’s the reason why Ice Witches, already rare, have grown even less common in recent years.

“The Queen herself was a rather gifted mage, and she also had several loyal courtiers, so both of those factors made the whole operation rather difficult.”

One of those courtiers had apparently been skilled in shapeshifting, and had been detected sneaking into Castle Doran. The guards there apparently had a great deal of trouble trying to figure out who the imposter was, mainly because the shapeshifter hadn’t only been changing their appearance, but also assuming their memories, their manner of speaking, even their magic type. The mage had been so powerful that they had been able to deceive the “Song of Truth” spell designed to detect any intruder.

Not only that, but—

“They had discovered you were an Ice-Type some time ago, from what I understand.”

Regardless of how quickly they’d attempted to silence all Ice Mages from revealing their magic type, the Order had found itself in a great deal of trouble concealing my magic type, given my distinctive blue hair. I’d apparently been stalked, spied upon, and nearly attacked several times in the past few weeks, but the guards had prevented every such assault, as well as keeping themselves hidden from both me and my attacker.

This is insane! I had no idea all this was going on until the Director told me just now! I’m impressed with how discreet the Knights had been in protecting me, but at the same time I’m rather frustrated I wasn’t informed about what was going on. I’m not some damsel to be rescued every time I find myself in distress! I can hold my own in a fight, you know!

Now now, Nanalie, that’s not very grateful, is it? I sigh to myself. Hold on—“Ice Maiden.” If he knew that I was, ah, “a maiden,” and that I was a target, then by placing me under the Order’s protection, pretty much every other Knight must’ve found out that I’m...“a maiden”... Oh dear, let’s not think about that either.

“We’re really quite fortunate that the shapeshifter didn’t realize you had a security detail.”

There’d been two reasons for not letting me in on the plan, she tells me: one, if I had known, I might have unwittingly revealed to my stalker that there were Knights around, causing them to act more quickly and without indicating their plans to do so. Second had been the fact that the Knights wanted to discover who, exactly, it was that was trying to kidnap me. Well, when it’s explained like that, I suppose it’s better I didn’t know.

The spies Doran had sent into Orcinus went silent soon after crossing the borders. Cracking the powerful magic barriers protecting Orcinus from all sorts of outside forces had been considered, but plans to do so were abandoned due to the risk of demons attacking civilians. The only hand Doran had left to play was to trap or arrest my stalker before they could flee the Kingdom.

She tells me that the person who’d cast the Confusion Hex on me last night was a member of the Order. The Knight had apparently been afraid that if they didn’t render me unconscious, I might be hypnotized by the stalker.

I’d (clearly) not known what was going on, and still have no idea how I’d come into contact with my stalker last night, but because the Knights were able to catch the shapeshifter red-handed trying to get at me, one of the Knights was sent along with the shapeshifter to get inside the magical barrier protecting Orcinus. Having done so, the Knight was able to let in additional Knights through the barrier from the inside.

The forces of Sheera, Vestanu, and Doran had all gathered together and marched upon the palace of Orcinus, battling their way into the court of the Queen.

“Will Orcinus be alright after all that?”

“Hmmm, that’s a good question. I had the same thought myself. Unexpectedly, the Crown Prince does, however, seem to be a rather capable leader, so it’ll probably be just fine.”

The Queen had fought until her last breath—but the person who struck the final blow was her son the Crown Prince.

“What are they going to tell the families of the witches who were killed?”

“Well, that’s the saddest part of this story—they can’t be told the truth, ever.”

I feel as though...I’ve seen behind the curtain, glimpsed at truths not meant for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have heard any of what the Director just told me. Bit late to be regretting that now, however. But if not even the aristocracy of Doran will be told the truth, how can I be allowed to know? The Director tells me that the Knight Commander had asked her to be my personal guard while I was at work, so of course she’d known the whole story. Goodness, the Director’s been going to all this trouble, for my sake? How can I ever—

“I think it’s about time we give that back, don’t you think?”

“Give what back?” I ask, confused. The Director whispers some incantation under her breath, touches the necklace I’m wearing, and with a snap the silver clasp comes undone.

I look closely at the silver chain in my hands. I tried so hard to get that off! How did she manage that?

“You see, the Knight who cast that hex on you to put you to sleep—they imbued this necklace with half of their magical power. All so that you could be protected in case you were attacked over the course of the operation last night. They’re quite badly injured from what I hear, so it’d be best if this was returned to them as soon as possible, I think.”

“Are-Are they alright?! I-I had no idea any of that was even happening! I have to go right now—”

“There’s no point in you tagging along. The Knight’s already back on the Royal Isle, and the only thing that needs to be returned to them is this necklace.”

“But, Director Locktiss...”

Even if I hadn’t been wearing this necklace, my mysterious protector had apparently intended to put some sort of magical protection on me, but the necklace had caught their eye and so they’d decided to imbue the necklace with their own power. I can’t believe a Knight would do something so reckless as giving away part of their magical ability...! I clench my fists. I want to slap myself for ever thinking that I should curse my protector with smelly feet for all of eternity.

The only one who stinks here is you, Nanalie. You deserve athlete’s foot for the rest of your life.

“What sort of ‘operation’ did they do?”

“Well... I guess I can tell you that.” The Director pauses, seeming a bit hesitant to continue her story. She turns to look back out the window.

“It was a sting operation, basically. One of the Knights took your place and acted as a decoy—as bait, really.”

“‘Took my place’?”

“Last night, you fainted...correct? After that, the Knight removed the dress you were wearing, shapeshifted into you, and put on the dress themself. They’re skilled enough at shapeshifting that not even your stalker could tell the difference. The operation was a total success. Just as the Order had planned, your stalker kidnapped the decoy and fled the Kingdom, entering Orcinus.”

If I hadn’t gone to the palace last night, this plan wouldn’t have worked at all. But since I did, it sounds like everything went off without a hitch. Except for the injury my mysterious Knight protector suffered. They must’ve gotten that while they were fighting inside the Orcinus court, weakened because they’d been protecting me with half of their power...or maybe the Orcinus Palace Guard had roughed them up while they’d still been in my shape. No matter when it had happened, it’s still my fault it ever happened at all.

“He—Come on, Nanalie—”

“Please, take me with you when you return the necklace! If they’re badly injured—if it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it—we have to go right now!”

I dash over next to the Director and grab her arm. I won’t let go! I absolutely will not let go, even if she kicks me! That poor Knight might be in terrible pain right now, and what if they die while we’re talking here like this—!

The Director sighs as she looks down at me as I remain clinging tightly to her arm, and pats my head. “Hmmmm... Okay!”

“Director Locktiss?”

“Let’s go together. Grove told me not to bring you along, but promises are made to be broken, right? Especially any promises I make with him. After all, we can’t have you moping around distracted about some wounded Knight when you’re starting your new position tomorrow, can we?” She pauses for a moment, then continues, saying, much more quietly: “There are some promises that are better to break than keep, after all.”

I’ve no idea what she’s thinking when she says that, but with her consent, both of us head off together to the Royal Isle.

＊　＊　＊　＊

We head to the Royal Isle on our familiars. I’d wanted to use that magic circle of teleportation to get there as fast as possible, but the Director dissuaded me from trying that by telling me that there was a risk that we’d be “ripped” if I made a mistake in the incantation, given my current upset state. What a violent thing to visualize.

One of the reasons the security had been so tough last night was simply that the Order was on guard against my stalker and other potential Orcinus agents. That person from Orcinus must have been enormously powerful to cause trouble even for people like the Knight Commander and Rockmann.

“Theodora... You brought her.”

“I’m sure you guessed I would anyway, right?”

The Knight Commander, astride his pegasus, is waiting for us at the landing site on the Royal Isle. The Director and I both get off our familiars. I shrink Lala down to fun-size and put her on my shoulder, greeting the Commander with a nod. I must have caused him so much extra work recently. He gets down off his mount as well, asks me if I’m all right, and thanks me for coming anyway.

I am, however, completely fine, and not injured in the slightest. The only ones we need to be worried about are the Knights who went out into the field, right? But I don’t say that, as it’s not my place to question the Knight Commander, and merely nod my head and tell him I am quite well, thank you. I also confess that I had no idea what had been going on around me until the Director told me. “Silly me!” I say. “Thanks to your hard work, I’m quite fine.”

Who cares about me? I want to know what’s going on with the Knight who shapeshifted into me.

“Here’s the necklace,” Director Locktiss says, offering it to the Commander.

“Excellent. Follow me, you two.” The Knight Commander guides us into the Order’s barracks. He and the Director talk about a lot of things as we walk, but I remain silent all the while, thinking only of the severely wounded Knight. As soon as I return their power with this necklace, I’ll thank them. I’ll even volunteer to be their servant for a whole month! I’m not used to people ordering me around all the time, but I think I could help them by cooking and cleaning for them, at least.

The skies are full of Knights flying to and from the barracks on their pegasi. A few of them are wearing green, however, not the usual black uniform of Doran’s Order.

From the few words I hear some of the green-clad Knights say, it sounds like they’re from either Vestanu or Sheera. They were a part of the operation last night, so I’m sure there’s still a lot left for them to take care of, reports to write, debriefs. Must be tough.

I sure hope Nikeh didn’t get injured. If she is injured, she’ll probably be taken care of just fine by using healing magic, but that doesn’t mean she won’t feel any pain. Plus, there’s no guarantee that her injuries are the type magic can heal. All healing spells do is activate the body’s own abilities to heal itself to the greatest extent. That usually means that if they’re missing a leg or an arm, it’s a much different story—and much more difficult.

Something that the school nurse, a highly skilled healer herself, had told me once was that if you wanted to perform regeneration magic on someone missing a limb or worse, you really ought to ask someone who specializes in such spells to do it for you.

Regeneration magic is, of course, a type of spellwork I’d have loved to be able to cast myself, but I’d never quite gotten the hang of it to the point where I could heal myself as cleanly and perfectly as the school nurse could. I’d thought that my main issue was my inability to concentrate on the issue at hand, so I’d broken my arm to practice healing it—or rather, I’d attempted to break it in the school courtyard, but the nurse caught me in the act and scolded me for days. She was scarier than my mother herself at that moment.

Director Locktiss waves to me. “Nanalie, come inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Next to the barracks (which is really more of a gray fortress), I see a simple large canvas tent has been erected. The thin yellow cloth covering the entrance flutters in the wind. It’s around dusk now, so it’s getting rather dark, and there’s light shining through the cloth of the tent. I hear a panicked voice as well: “Are they still not here?” “Hurry it up!” “The healing, it...”

“Commander, you took forever!”

“Just hold on now, I’ve brought it, so calm down.”

“Hey, Nanalie! Glad to see you’re alright!”

The instant I step inside the tent I hear Nikeh’s voice, and a moment later she’s hugging me. I hug her back, happy as can be. “I’m glad you’re alright too!” I say—but then when I see what’s beyond her, deeper inside the tent, I freeze.

“Is that...me?”

In the center of the tent, lying on a gurney, I see myself being healed using magic.

...Well, no, that’s the Knight who shapeshifted into me. Next to her (the Knight’s shapeshifted, so I don’t actually know if it’s a man or a woman, but I’m guessing it’s a woman), Ms. Weldy is sobbing her eyes out and clasping her hands together in prayer.

I look more closely. My (the Knight’s) left arm is missing from the elbow down. Her shoulder is covered in blood, and there’s enough blood in her hair to make it look more purple than blue. It’s so horrible, I can hardly stand to look at her.

None of the other Knights inside the tent seem to be injured quite as badly—well, they might be hurt, some seriously, but it’s clear that this Knight, in my shape, is in the worst shape of the entire lot.

“You!”

Ms. Weldy stands up when she realizes that I’ve entered the tent. She marches right up to my face, cheeks still wet and eyes leaking tears. Is she going to yell at me that this is all my fault? She’d be entirely right to say so. If that Knight hadn’t taken my place in this whole operation, or given me half their magical ability, there’s no way they’d have been injured this badly.

All Ms. Weldy does, however, is look at me closely, from head to toe. She says nothing, merely stares at me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unable to handle the pressure of her silence and her gaze. She hears me, I think, because the very next moment she looks me in the eyes and says:

“You seem fine... Good for you.” Without further ado, Ms. Weldy walks past me and out of the tent.

“...feeling weak. Without that power...can’t shift back into...real body.”

“Good work on the healing so far. But we shouldn’t be surprised it’s taking this long without half your power.”

I walk over to where the Commander and the injured Knight are speaking. I kneel down beside them. The Knight, who’d had her eyes closed, cracks them open, probably because of all the noise we’re making.

It’s extremely odd to see myself lying on the ground in such a state.

Her eyes blink rapidly as she notices me kneeling beside her, looking at the Knight Commander, then back at me. I’m taken over by some strange feeling when we make eye contact—I want to thank her, but her sapphire blue eyes look so surprised that I’m at a loss as to what to say to her.

“I told you...not to bring her here, didn’t I?”

That’s my voice, but it isn’t my own.

This Knight who’s taken my shape has also perfectly taken on my way of speaking.

“Alois, I used that incantation to get the necklace off of her and have brought it back here to you. How do we return your power?”

“It won’t come back right away. If you could just leave it resting on top of my chest...I’ll feel better soon enough.”

I’d been listening to the whole conversation—but hold on, did I hear that correctly? I’m not hallucinating, am I? What did the Commander just call the Knight?

I look down at “myself.”

“...Rockmann?”

＊　＊　＊　＊

By the Goddess. By the Goddess above!

I have literally been rendered unable to think. I’m not the type to use the Goddess’s name in vain, but there are no other words for how I feel right now.

Great Goddess above, what in the world is going on here?!

“Alois...Rockmann?”

I’d completely thought that the Knight who’d shapeshifted into my form was a woman! Hadn’t the Director said something about “wearing a dress”? Of course I’d imagine it to be a woman! What kind of man wants to shapeshift into my body so he can go around wearing my dresses?! Of course, there’d always been a possibility that the Knight was a man, but I’d dismissed that without a second thought! Before entering this tent, I was worried it had been Nikeh, but since she hugged me right as I’d walked in, I knew immediately that it hadn’t been her.

“You told me not to say anything, and I made Theodora promise me she wouldn’t bring her along, but...”

So what, Commander?! Who cares about all that?! I should’ve been told! He should’ve told me himself, at least! The only thing I’m capable of doing in this situation is freezing up.

I’m told that Rockmann has been the one guarding me all this time, that Rockmann’s the one who suffered a severe injury for my sake, and that Rockmann’s the one who wore my dress. ALL of my questions, answered all at once, with the same answer: this guy.

He sees me opening and closing my mouth as I struggle for words, and his lips curl upwards a bit as if he’s trying to smile. Even that must be painful for him. “You...you don’t look so good,” he says, letting out a weak laugh at his own bad joke. The one who’s injured is unquestionably Rockmann, not me, but he’s trying to act cool as he always does, even in a situation like this. Wait—he shapeshifted into me, and changed into my dress...does that mean he saw me naked?! Actually, never mind. This isn’t the time to think about that.

Usually we’d start arguing at a time like this, but the only words that escape my lips are, “By the Goddess above, Rockmann, what have you...”

“Well...it looks like you...heard what happened, I guess.”

Rockmann forces himself up a little to meet my gaze evenly, clearly trying to discern what’s going on inside my head as I kneel here, silent. Underneath the bandages around his chest, I can tell that he’s gotten out of the blue dress Maris made for me. The woman who’s casting healing magic on him tells him to lie back down, but he just says he’s fine as long as he’s wearing the necklace and stays sitting up to look at me.

“Well, I must say...it would have been much nicer if we could’ve made you the bait.” He laughs, shaking “his” bloodstained blue hair out of his face.

Why, of course Ms. Weldy was crying over him. I think she would have been crying over anyone who’d gotten themselves in a state like this. Still, there had been something rather heartwrenching in the way that she’d said “good for you” to me, despite the fact that she’d gone on and on to me back in the Soreiyu District about how head over heels she was for him.

“I, uh...could have been the bait, you know.”

“Ha! As if we could let you, a commoner, be entrusted with such an important task... Hel?”

I know I couldn’t have been the bait in their operation. The problem had been something for the Order and the royals to solve, and they couldn’t have placed a simple commoner like me in danger for a foreign expedition like that. It would have been insane even to have asked me to volunteer, I know that.

But still.

*Sob.* *Sob.*

“Hel?”

Still.

“I-I—I’m not crying!!”

I’m not crying because I’m sad.

“I’m just—so frustrated! It’s just—I never beat you, when we fought, so I guess I thought that, you know, even if you got into a really bad fight, you’d be okay—!”

I’d really thought that. I’d never even seen him injured until now, and he’d always seemed to easily bat me away whenever I’d attacked him. Of course it sounds a bit weird to say that I “did whatever I had wanted to him,” but I’d shown him no mercy in our little spats, and he’d shown me none either. Since we’d cancel each other out whenever we fought with magic—him with Fire, me with Ice—we ended up arguing instead of actually dueling, of course, but we said some pretty awful stuff to each other, that’s for sure. We still say horrible things to each other, for that matter.

“I never thought that you could be defeated, so to see you all beat up like this, lying on the floor, and knowing it’s because of me—it hurts more than if I was the one missing an arm—”

Or at least, that’s what I would have said, in my sad, painful state of mind, but I can’t say something ridiculous like that to Rockmann, who is both physically sad and in pain at the moment.

“Nanalie, calm down. You’re causing a pestrokraive.”

Nikeh pats my back. I realize that the whole inside of the tent is filled with cold mist and bits of furniture here and there are covered in ice. Even the ground beneath my knees has hardened, white veins of ice cracking out from where I kneel.

I find it even more frustrating that my first-ever pestrokraive was caused by stressing over this guy. I don’t like this crybaby version of myself. I don’t like her at all.

“Sorry, for, crying—”

I feel as though I’ve seen someone else crying over an injured person like this, much as I am doing now.

It had been that time my mother had, unusually for her, dressed up all fancy, and dressed me up as well, and taken me to the best theater in town, right under the Royal Isle, to see a play. The play had been a romance (which had failed to hold my interest, so I’d fallen asleep halfway through), and a woman had run over to a man fallen on the ground, bawling her eyes out, then kissed him, and, miraculously enough, saved him by doing so, happily ever after. The End. The kind of simple story appropriate for children.

Not in one hundred—no, not in one thousand years would I ever kiss this guy, and I am absolutely not crying because I’m sad! Furthermore, why the hell am I remembering something like that at a time like this?

“Hey, you...”

Rockmann seems to have regained some of his power. His hair color is changing from my blue to his blond. My blue eyes, turning red. My thin shoulders, growing thick with smooth, slender muscles. My small breasts, losing their softness to take on that special tautness of a man’s chest.

His left arm completely returns as well, and within moments every one of his injuries are gone, along with all the blood that had been on his body. He’s completely healed.

Can every Knight do that kind of healing magic? Or is this just Rockmann’s own power that’s doing this? No matter which it was, it’s clear that the power inside my necklace is now his again.

“Yayyyyy! Captain!”

Ms. Weldy, who happened at that very moment to step back inside the tent, sees him returned to normal, lifts her arms in the air, and hops over to see him. In her hurry she knocks me over, but I’m not mad. At least she seems happy.

＊　＊　＊　＊

“I’m heading out on a long expedition to the Land of the Sea now. I’m tracking that demon you saw back at the palace.”

“Hold on, you can’t tell me something like that, can you? I’m ‘just a commoner,’ after all.”

“I’ll be going with two Knights from my unit and the Knights from Vestanu.”

“Hey, are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

Rockmann’s changed into an outfit a little different from his black Knight’s uniform. Seeing that I still looked to be on the verge of tears, the Commander told the two of us to stay inside the tent for awhile, alone, and here we were, acting like mature adults for once (for the most part).

The small magical ball of fire lighting up the tent drifts around from corner to corner.

Rockmann sighs. “What am I going to do? I’m so sad that I can’t tell Sally, Maris, Taleena, Dmitri, Nala, Bajistra, Hannis, and Shilly goodbye. Can someone like you possibly understand what I’m feeling right now?”

“As if I’d want to know what it feels like to be some lousy womanizer,” I spit back at him, rolling my eyes.

Why am I still here?

Just moments ago I’d tried to (very briefly) thank him for what he’d done and leave the room as quickly as possible. After having cried right in front of him, I feel uncomfortable, to say the least. I’d very much like to not be in the same room as him right now, thank you very much.

Ms. Weldy—who’d draped herself all over Rockmann for a good long minute, will, it seems, be going with him on this expedition. She’s gone back to the barracks to prepare for their journey. “I guess I can give you some time alone with the Captain,” she’d said, very reluctantly. “I’m feeling very generous right now,” she added before leaving. I wouldn’t have minded her staying, but if she was really “feeling very generous” about telling me to stay with him, I felt like I didn’t have any choice in the matter.

Once I’d resolved to be the servant for whoever had turned out to be my body double, I really had no choice but to offer that to Rockmann, despite my reluctance. He barely looked at me as he refused my offer: “I don’t need a crybaby servant, but thanks.” While I’d very much felt like slapping him when he called me a crybaby, I was unable to deny the truth of his claim, and he was the person I owed my life to. He doesn’t deserve to be slapped—at the moment, that is.

I’ve realized something else in the course of all this: this guy, “Alois Rockmann,” seems to actually be one of the good guys, unexpectedly enough. Not only “good,” but “really good,” for that matter. Not like I’m going to admit I think that to his face, however. I look away from him.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, apparently thinking he’s hurt my feelings. “Calling you a crybaby was a bit rude, huh?”

“This has nothing to do with you calling me a crybaby!”

I take that back. This guy’s totally awful. Dammit, why’d I let myself cry in front of him?

Rockmann is full of energy, acting as though he hadn’t just been missing half of his arm. Am I losing some sort of competition here? Despite being injured that badly, here he is now, ready to head out on another adventure outside the Kingdom. Just how much drive, energy, and motivation does this guy have, anyway?

The Land of the Sea is on the other side of the ocean. Between the ocean and Doran lie five Kingdoms, though, so it’s practically on the other side of the world. The Land of the Sea actually lies at the bottom of the sea, and it’s the home of mermaids and other unusual magical creatures. The Kingdoms surrounding the ocean send a lot of travelers down there, from what I hear, but for those of us in Doran, it’s so far away that I know of practically no one who’s ever been there. My friend, Kara Yakkurin, had always told me she dreamed of going there one day. Now that she’s an archaeologist, I wonder if she’s made it there?

“Alright you two, why don’t we settle down by giving each other a nice little good-luck charm?”

The Director, who’d been standing near the entrance talking with Nikeh, heard us snapping at each other and came over to calm us down. In her hands I see two small, green boxes. She gives one to me and the other to Rockmann.

Good-luck charms?

“Inside these boxes are your futures. I’m going to give one box to each of you. Be careful, because if you open the lid, you’ll never meet each other again. If you keep them closed, you’re definitely going to meet again—or so they say. What do you think?”

The Director looks back and forth between me and Rockmann, seeming very pleased with herself.

This seems like the type of thing Zozo would like. As a follower of Lady Merakisso, she’d—well actually, she ignored her fortune the other day, but I still think she’d like this type of thing. I wonder if she developed her taste for fortune-telling and the like from hanging around the Director too much...?

There are no decorations on the small box she’s handed to me, but I notice that on the lid is a small inscription, written in red: “Turn me forward, turn me backward, this marble’s going nowhere.”

I honestly have no idea what that means. I may be a good student and a quick study, but I was never good with riddles.

“Huh, so that’s how it works.”

And as if to counter my very thoughts:

“I checked inside and it was empty,” Rockmann says to me. He opened the freaking box the second she handed it to him! “Look,” he says, flashing the empty inside of the box. It is, indeed, empty.

This bastard... He’s not got an ounce of chivalry in him. Maybe I should grab some of that nice golden hair of his and give it a good yank.

I don’t particularly care about him being chivalrous towards me, of course, but the Director had given us these as a present and told us not to open them. Only someone totally heartless would do something like that. He’s basically saying he never wants to meet me again, isn’t he? I think it’s even more offensive that he didn’t just tell it to me straight.

His red eyes are practically shining with mirth as he watches me get irritated. I look down at my own little box.

“Oh, is that so,” I say. “Well if you’ve opened yours already, I’ll open mine once I get back to my dorm.”

I could just open it right here, but there’s a time and place for everything, after all. Why’d he have to do it first?!

“H-Hey...” The Director’s gritting her teeth a bit as she looks at Rockmann, then lets out a sort of pained laugh. She’d given us these boxes as a “nice little good-luck charm,” but he went ahead and opened his right in front of her, while I am already declaring I shall do the same. Of course she’d be annoyed. Sorry, Director.

“Oh, that’s right—I wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

Rockmann makes a show of pulling something out of a pocket inside his brown robe.

“When I cast that spell on your necklace, the flower inside withered from the heat, so...” He passes me a flower crown made of couplet flowers. “You wanted to give that to someone, didn’t you?”

“But I can’t—”

“This is merely a token of His Highness’s grace. He gives all the Knights one flower crown every year, you know. This is the one I had pinned on my chest. I guess it’s his way of thanking us for doing our jobs during the Festival of the Flower Goddess, when we can’t exactly enjoy the day how we might like to.”

Okay, now I get it—that’s why he’d spoken that way when I saw him in town the other day.

I’d wondered what he’d meant by “the grace of His Highness,” but it made sense for the busy Knights to be given couplet flowers so that when they met their special person while out on patrol, they’d still be able to give them some flowers.

“It seems a bit of a shame to give something so lovely like this to me,” I say, rather sharply.

“Well,” he says, sighing and gesturing in my general direction, “consider it my way of apologizing for having seen your...flat figure.”

“Hmph!” I yank the flower crown away from him.

What a lout! Here I was, trying very hard not to think about what he’d seen, and he brought it right up!

I’d wanted to give Maris the flower I’d picked out for her myself. I wonder if she’ll be happy if I re-gift her these couplets from Rockmann?

“Hmph! Thank you very much for your kindness,” I say.

“I sure do hope that charm works,” he says, winking at me.

I grip the couplet flowers tightly and glare at Rockmann. He laughs at me as he holds up that empty box of his.

That night, a group led by Rockmann, made up of Knights from both Vestanu and Doran, depart the Kingdom as they set out on their journey.

Prince Zenon is made the temporary Captain of the First Platoon, and Nikeh is also transferred into his unit to make up for the missing Knights. The absence of the Knights from the First Platoon is explained to the public as a “study abroad” opportunity for Rockmann and his subordinates to learn how other Kingdoms use their Knights. Maris sends me as many as three letters in one day describing how upset the members of Doran’s high society are to find the Duke’s gallant son missing from their world. Well, ain’t that just too bad for y’all, huh?

And so another year goes by in which I haven’t beaten Rockmann at anything. Doesn’t look like I’ll be one-upping him anytime soon, that’s for sure.

But I will beat him at something, one day. I’m going to work hard on my magic, hard at my job, and just keep getting better.

And so it was that in the third month of the Season of Flowers, I finally sat down at that reception desk that I’d dreamed of for so long. In the corner of my room, next to the window, that small little box remains, firmly closed.