Main Story 2 | Chapter 17 | Presence of a Memento

[healingbonds]

MahoYaku Masterpost & Translator's Notes

Chapter 16 << | index | >> Chapter 18


Chapter 17: Presence of a Memento
17.1 A Wizard’s Death
17.2 The Obis Ritual
17.3 Heartbreaking Plea
17.4 On Love
17.5 An Abundance of Caution
17.6 A Forceful Gust and an Unknown Power
17.7 Paying a Visit on a Moonlit Night
17.8 Something That Has Awakened
17.9 The Witch’s Parting Words
17.10 The Noble’s Eyes

17.1 A Wizard’s Death

I once asked Nero.
About how wizards die.

Faust: Nero. Have you ever known a wizard who passed away of natural causes?

Nero: Natural causes? What are unnatural causes?

Faust: Like accidents or deaths from war. In other words, I want to know if you’ve ever known a wizard who died of old age.
I was a shut-in in the Valley of Storms for most of my life, so I don’t know many other wizards.
Wizards stop aging at some point. But if we don’t age, then how do we turn to stone from old age?
I thought you might know.....

The moon was bright that night. I had unknowingly lowered my voice, as if fleeing into the blue shadows of the mighty tree.
Listening to the leaves bristle overhead, a hidden feeling of guilt comes upon me, but I cannot put my finger on why.
I want to know about wizards who die of old age because I want to know what will happen to Figaro.
And I must feel guilty because probing about the issue of Figaro’s numbered days feels like an act of wrongdoing.
For I have a sense that Figaro does not want others to imagine his death.
That must be why he cannot reveal the truth about his lifespan to Oz, the twins, or the Southern wizards.
Even if he can to his disciple who he severed ties with.

Faust: (Am I wrong about this too, Figaro?)
(I do not understand you.)

Nero: Oh, I see. Yeah, I’ve seen a couple of them turn to stone.

Nero smiles and nods. He leans against one of the magic headquarters’ towers, one leg dangling in mid-air.
His response about the death of wizards is as carefree as the comfortable night wind.
Nero’s words are as palatable as an easy-on-the-stomach meal.
His amber gaze rarely harbors any fierce emotion.
Not because he is simple or innocuous.
Rather, he’s like an artisan pastry: deftly crafted through an involved and time-consuming process, properly sieved before serving....
His emotions are carefully prepared before he presents them.
So that we can’t step into his heart. So that he won’t step into our hearts.
Such is our relationship. But I can still tell that he’s survived a harsh and difficult life.
The fact that he can nonchalantly smile as we discuss wizards turning to stone must be one product of such an upbringing.
At times, Nero can be as sentimental as a pouting child; yet other times, he can be shockingly frivolous and crude.

Nero: I see. So you’ve never seen a wizard die like that? You really never left the Valley of Storms, huh.
You’re as naive about the ways of the world as young master Heath and Shino.

Faust: That’s not true. I didn’t have a father, so I was the head of the household since I was little.

Nero: ....Oh, really?

Faust: In that sense, I know more about the world than Heathcliff or Shino. Somewhat.

Nero: But you’ve never met a wizard who died of natural causes.

Faust: That’s right. When wizards die of old age.....

Every time I mention dying of old age, I think of Figaro, and my heart sinks.

Faust: .....How do they age? Do their bodies begin to age? Or do they just suddenly turn to stone one day....?

Nero: Hm.... Well, I’ll tell you what happened to the wizards I knew.

Nero opens his arms wide, supplementing his explanation with gestures.

Nero: Out of nowhere, one day they’re gonna be like, "Something’s off. I can’t use my magic like usual...."
But they’ll get better in no time. But then it’ll happen again. A moment, a day where they just can’t use magic.
And there will be more and more of those days. At first, it’ll be once every six or three months....
But gradually, it’ll be once every ten days. Once every three days. And so on.

Faust: .........

Nero: Eventually, they won’t be able to unleash the same level of magic at all, and the days that they can use magic become rarer than the days they can’t.
And they’ll quietly pass away. Some guys got weaker over a longer span of time; other guys met their end in no time.

Faust: In no time....

I furrow my brows. I can’t stop myself from imagining Figaro, perplexed because he can’t use magic like he used to.
But I immediately erase that image from my mind.
Because I think Figaro wouldn’t want me to imagine such a thing.
He is a noble man, after all.

Faust: ....So a dying wizard’s magic grows weaker and weaker. But how about their body? Can they walk around and eat?

Nero: Nah, they were all bedridden near the end. They still looked young, but their breathing got weaker and weaker.....
And at some point, you think, "Ah" — and by then, they’ve already stopped moving, and then they turn to stone.

Faust: ..........

The tragic description makes the crease between my brows grow even more pronounced. But there’s a faint smile on Nero’s lips.
A bittersweet longing illuminates his eyes.

Nero: I was so moved the first time I saw it.... I thought it was beautiful. I mean, of course I was sad, but.
But I thought, even a guy like me can turn into a beautiful, shining stone, dropping and rolling onto the ground.....
And someone will take me into their hands like a precious treasure. That doesn’t sound too bad.
It gave me hope; a reason to live.

I couldn’t return his smile.
I gaze up at the moon, shining with terrifying beauty.
In the quiet blue world of nightfall, I breathe stealthily, furrowing my brows and pressing my lips into a frown.
"It gave me hope; a reason to live." Nero’s reaction is so different from my own.

Faust: (My heart broke the first time I witnessed a wizard turn to stone.)
(The beautiful mana stone crumbled into pieces like rain being repelled by the ground.)
(And I realized that we would never return to mother earth, even in death.)

I remember the beautiful stones scattered atop the muddy battlefield.
A wizard who was struck by an arrow and turned to stone. I tried to look at their face, but could not. For they had already shattered.
Wizards cannot show their faces in death to those who survive them.
Like flowers that suddenly turn to lumps of earth without even wilting.

Faust: And.... Is that fate inevitable?

Nero: Huh?

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17.2 The Obis Ritual

Faust: ....In other words..... Is there any way to prevent death from old age?
If there’s no way to stop it, maybe there’s some way to extend the wizard’s life.....

Nero: You wanna live a long life, Mr. Faust?

Faust: No, I’m not sure I.... I mean, this isn’t about me, but.....

I catch myself getting garbled, so I decide to stick it through with a lie.

Faust: That’s right. I want to live a long life.

Nero: Really? You’re really that kinda guy?

Faust: I certainly am. Is there any secret to longevity?

Nero: Who knows.... How about asking Snow and White?

Nero shrugs, and lets out an exasperated huff.

Nero: But do you really wanna live for two thousand years? I would never.
I mean, I’m not gonna go looking to die, but if I lived for that long, I think I’d.... Go crazy.

Nero leans back languidly. If I were a ravenous beast, I would have sunk my teeth into his windpipe in no time.
His throat trembles. As do his shoulders and hair. I believe he’s laughing silently.
I’m moved — the gesture just feels so quintessentially Nero.
I try to copy him by leaning back myself, but I can feel my neck about to crack, so I stop.

Nero: Haha.... Yeah, I remember now. The secret to longevity. It’s a tale I heard when I was a brat.

Faust: What is it?

Nero: Lock yourself in a cellar.

I blink. He says it like an axiom.
His smile is cynical.

Nero: I was born in a crime-infested region where the real danger was other people.
My good-for-nothing dad was.... Well, I guess my whole family was full of good-for-nothings, including myself.
When I told him I didn’t wanna go to some dangerous area, he just told me, "Lock yourself in a cellar, then."
That’s how they taunted all the scaredy-cats. Not just my family, either.... Ahaha. Lock yourself in a cellar.

Faust: ....Is that funny?

Nero: Well, see.... There’s an inherent contradiction. If you lock yourself in a cellar, you won’t have anything to eat.
So you have no choice but to die anyway. You either get yourself killed, or starve to death. But when I was little, I imagined....
A cellar where you were free from danger. If you were locked up, but still got to eat every day.....
Then wouldn’t that cellar be heaven?

As someone who spent his whole life cooped up in the Valley of Storms, I don’t have much of a leg to stand on, but I don’t think a cellar would be heaven.
That’s why I ask. Because the question just happens to pop into my mind.

Faust: Even if that cellar is a prison?

I’ve been locked in a jail cell before, and I can personally attest that it was one of the worst experiences of my life.
I thought Nero would agree, and laugh it off, his shoulders rocking.

Nero: ............

Nero doesn’t say anything. Only his gaze wanders towards me in silence. His golden eyes are those of a beast’s.
A cold, powerful breeze sweeps through the air, pushing black clouds over the moon and whisking strands of Nero’s hair over his mouth.
Nero scratches the back of his neck, and mumbles, without a smile.
Spitting the words from his mouth.

Nero: Better than dying in a ditch somewhere.

✦✧☾✧✦

Faust: ...........

Something lurks in the darkness.
Splashing water echoes through the halls as the air quakes around us. I focus my mind and search for the foreign presence.
But it doesn’t work. Even though that hidden something is powerful enough to critically injure an experienced wizard like Nero.
The ominous presence grows closer. For some reason, the spirits are not responding as well as they usually do. It’s as if their nature has changed.
Nero lays limp in my arms. I quickly feel around his back. He’s still bleeding.
I have no time to think this over. I need to make my move.

Shino: .....I’ll go! You stay here!

Faust: Quiet. Duck down.

Shino: Don’t attack whatever it is that strikes us! I’ll put it to sleep!

Shino is so experienced in battle — yet right now he is fearful and confused. We also have an unconscious girl with us.
I take a deep breath to still the tremors running through my body. Taking account of all factors, I list out our priorities in my mind.
1. Secure our safety. 2. Handle emergency aid. 3. Prepare for battle.

Faust: << Satillquinart Mulcreed >>

I chant my spell and conjure a barrier. Something is off. I can tell each time I use magic.

Faust: (....My magic isn’t as effective..... Something’s wrong with the spirits.)

Shino: Faust. I’m sorry, but I need to look for Heath. Take care of Nero.

I can’t see his face in the darkness, but I can hear the anxiety in Shino’s voice.
This is my fault. I knew that Shino was near a breaking point, but I couldn’t tend to his needs.
I decide to explain my thoughts to Shino as I feel around Nero’s back.

Faust: Shino. Please lend me a hand.

Shino: Heath is my priority! I’ll go even if it means I have to kill you!

Shino yells, preparing his scythe. But as his scythe gathers a dim ball of light, he looks at his hands, questioning.
He, too, finds it difficult to use magic. But the spirits haven’t been corrupted. Which means....

Faust: (We’re in unfamiliar lands.)
(This isn’t Eastern Country.)

My searching fingers reach the site of injury on Nero’s blood-soaked back. There’s a hole about the size of a pinky right in the middle of his back.

Faust: (Is this a perforation? A gunshot wound?)

Warm blood continues to gush out of the wound. I need to close this quickly before he bleeds to death.

Faust: Shino. Nero is on the brink of death. I’m going to perform emergency aid. I want you to keep watch over what’s happening outside the barrier.

Shino: ....He’s on the brink of death?

Faust: Yes. He’s bleeding heavily. Shino. Conjure your broom and take the girl with you. Also, note that we’re likely in Western Country.

Shino: Western Country!?

Faust: That’s right. Use the Obis Ritual. You don’t have to draw the magic circle.

Shino: The Obis Ritual?

Faust: You don’t remember? I taught it in class. It was on your exam, too.....

Shino: If we make it back alive, I’ll kneel in front of you and repent, so explain it again ASAP.

On paper, that might read like a respectful line, but Shino’s voice bristles with irritation and anger.
I have no intention of lecturing him now. I provide a brief explanation as I tend to Nero.

Faust: You should have some dirt or fallen leaves from Sherwood Forest on you. Cast them around yourself.

Shino catches on and begins to rummage around his bosom.

Shino: Right. It’s a ritual for enhancement. It’ll help me use my magic when I’m in unfamiliar territory.

Faust: Precisely. The spirits of Sherwood Forest will save you.

Shino: But not for long. The more powerful the spirits of the land are, the shorter the ritual’s effects will last....

Faust: Well done. I’ll give you full points. The spirits of Sherwood Forest will be swallowed by the spirits of this land. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Nero: ......Nngh......!

Nero screams and arches backwards in agony as I stuff herbs into the hole in his back.
Immediately, I check that he hasn’t bitten through his tongue. Nero’s narrowed eyes twist in pain.
Relieved, I put my palm to his injury. Shino performs the Obis Ritual as he places the girl on his broom.

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17.3 Heartbreaking Plea

Faust: I apologize. You’ll be okay. Just bear it for a little longer.

Nero is in a daze. But his eyes jolt open the moment he sees my neck.
The maleficence that I took on in Shino’s stead must appear like a dark bruise.

Nero: .......You.....

The moment he tries to speak, Shino yells.

Shino: Faust.....!

Faust: .........!?

Right on the heels of Shino’s voice, an eerie ball of blue light expands in the darkness.
The next moment, a shower of arrows made of blue light pierces through the air.

Faust: .........!

My barrier just barely keeps them at bay, but they carry tremendous magical power and force.
Two more attacks like that and they might break through this barrier.
I turn my attention to grasping the source of the attack. I can tell where it came from — but there’s nothing there.
But I marvel at Shino’s keen observational skills — he sensed the attack before it was launched.
How befitting of the guardian of the vast, dark woodlands.
Shino, meanwhile, looks befuddled.

Shino: ....What the hell is that thing....?

Faust: I don’t know. I can’t catch a solid hold of its presence. I have my hands full trying to guard against its next attack — so I’m going to complete this emergency aid, and we’ll get out of here before it strikes again.

Shino: What’s the status of Nero’s wound?

Faust: I’m fixing it u.....

Shino: No. I mean, what kind of injury is it? Does it look like he got sliced by claws? Or bitten by an animal?

Faust: It’s a perforation. Akin to an arrow or gunshot wound — but different. He was pierced by something sharp and narrow.

Nero: ......Ribs......

Nero grits out, his breath short from pain.
Ribs? Is he talking about his body?

Nero: The moment its ribcage opens up........ The light..... Attacks.......
......Watch ou.......

Nero’s last words are lost as blood gushes from his mouth, coloring his face bright red.
His wound is even worse than I imagined. Fear overwhelms my heart, and my breath grows more rapid by the second.
Nero closes his eyes. I’m ready to scream.
His lips curve into a warm, quiet smile.

Nero: .....Take my stone, and.......

Faust: We are not talking about that!

Nero doesn’t respond.
He’s just barely breathing.
I pump the blood from his mouth to keep him from choking to death, and stuff some sugar between his gums and his cheeks. His cheeks are terrifyingly cold.
I’ve done all the magical healing I can to staunch the flow of blood and buy him some time, but it’s all merely emergency first aid.

Faust: (I need to take him to Figaro.)
(The moment its ribcage opens up, the light will attack?)
(What attacked Nero? Where is Heath?)

Shino: How is Nero!?

Faust: He passed out. He said the light attacks the moment its ribcage opens up. Watch out.

Shino: Ribcage? What did he say about a black beast!?

Faust: He didn’t say anything. Shino, we’re short on time. We’re going to take Nero and escape. I need to locate the distortion in space. Help me out.

Shino: What about Heath!?

Faust: We’re going to find him and take him with us too! That’s why I need your help. Please.
Take the girl with you on your broom. I’m going to unravel the barrier and rush through. I’ll be the bait.

I explain my plan to Shino as I conjure my broom and place the unconscious Nero on it.

Shino: No. That’s not it.

Shino shakes his head and rushes towards me. There isn’t a single shard of resistance in his eyes.
He grabs my arm in desperation; his gaze spells heartbreak.

Shino: The black beast is Heath. He turns into a creature like a black panther. It’s his catastrophic injury.

Shino’s face twists in pain. The blue light grows brighter and brighter behind his narrow shoulders.

Shino: I knew, but I could never tell anyone! Because I didn’t want to lose him.....!

Faust: Shino, watch out!

Blinding rays strike like lightning across the underground waterway.
I grab Shino’s shoulders and duck down. Cracks splinter across the barrier. It’s going to collapse any moment now.
The eerie shadow continues to dance in the darkness.

Faust: Get on your broom! Fly when I give the signal!

Shino: What about you!?

Faust: I’ll follow suit! We’re going to distance ourselves from that thing, and I’ll set up a new barrier! We need to find Heath before then!

Shino: Got it!

Faust: Thank you for telling me.

Shino looks like he’s holding back some emotion. He sprints towards his broom and hops on.
My head spins as I try to keep up with the situation. Heath is a black beast. That’s his catastrophic injury. Of course I’m in shock. But if he’s alive, that’s what matters most.

Faust: (A black beast? I don’t care what he looks like. I’m going to protect him.)
(Heathcliff is my first student. I’ve lived for four hundred years. If I can’t even make Shino and Heath happy....)
(Then there’s no point to me being here.)
Shino, go!

Shino: Don’t die, Faust! Nero!

The moment I release the barrier, Shino takes off.
I conjure a blinding light in my mirror to catch the enemy’s attention. It illuminates the dark underground waterway like it’s under the afternoon sun.
That’s when I see it.
Shino also catches sight of it from his broom.

Shino: .....What is this thing!?

An eerie something that I have never before witnessed in my life.
It is neither man nor wizard nor ghostly spirit. Something that does not belong in this world.

✦✧☾✧✦

(Meow)

???: There, there. Aren’t you a sweet one.
Detours can be lovely, but don’t you think it’s nice to head straight to your destination every now and then?
This city has quite the wondrous nightscape. It reminds me of the place I departed just a little while ago. Though that place was full of coral, not stone buildings.
I wonder what that child is up to? What a mischievous spirit, running off with my prototype like that.

(Meow)

???: Hm? Am I a good spirit, you ask? Of course you are.
You are the night wind who carries me from shore to shore..... You are my arms and legs. I could never loathe you, my dear partner. I love you.



???: Second only to that beautiful moon, that is.

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17.4 On Love

I believed that love was kindness.

Member of the ruined village: Lord Figaro.
Lord Figaro. Look at this bountiful harvest.
It is all thanks to your blessings, Lord Figaro. Please continue to watch over us.

My villagers, whom I loved.
My villagers, who loved me in turn.
They paid me their respects from the depths of their hearts, offering me every last wonderful thing that passed through their arms.
Beautiful flowers.
A stag with magnificent horns.
Miraculously sweet fruit.
Sturdy, warm pelts.
Even if their children never knew the sweet taste of honey.
Even if their fathers were bedridden from illness.
Like celebratory bouquets, they offered me everything they had, begging for miracles in return.
No.
They did not even beg.
Serving me and loving me was their prayer for peace, and they felt fulfilled.
They believed that it would promise them happiness.
It must have brought them unimaginable comfort.

My heart was also filled with love.
I believed that on the day of judgment, I would offer my whole body to save them.
Such was my innocent conviction as I accepted every last offering.
Beautiful flowers.
A stag with magnificent horns.
Miraculously sweet fruit.
Sturdy, warm pelts.

Yet, despite the fact that they offered me their treasures....
They perished because I could not save them.

Trust was never established. Happiness faded away.
I went from being a guardian deity to a rootless, maleficent spirit.
At times, a traveler performing miracles.
At times, a sage guiding a hero.
At times, a calamity burning the world to ashes.
All I had was my miraculous power.....
Mercy. Devotion. Judgment. Pride. I wear many faces to match such traits.
It is akin to a disease.
When I am truly loved and respected, the failed god who could not protect his people turns pale from guilt.....
So I wish to be treated with disregard, only to find that the god within me who was offered the world with great deference grows furious at such impropriety.
Joy and comfort. Salvation may yet exist, but.
I simply, inconsolably understand that I am far more lowly, and far more precious than anyone understands me to be.
I am neither needlessly self-deprecating nor baselessly pompous. This is the unshakable truth.

Then what is love?
Will love save me?
I must have obtained love in the far, distant past.
To be worshiped with great reverence. To be treated with the irreverence of fond attachment. Both must be forms of love.
But if neither will save me, then what should I look for? What should I give....
O, my beloveds. At times, I think it is not love.

The solitude of stars adorning the night sky.
The solitude of a nameless wind that has traveled from distant lands and passes by in the blink of an eye.
Solitude is always beautiful and comforting — and at the same time worthless and horrifying.

To me, solitude was Oz.
I do not know of an existence more powerful or pitiful than he was.
He was always alone. Though there were those who loathed him and tried to kill him, not once did anyone ever love him.
Though there were those who threw themselves at his feet and tried to use him, not once did anyone truly trust him.
He had the power to control the world. But he did not love the world, and the world refused to love him in return.
Yet....
Oz changed when he met Arthur.
Oz and I spoke of love once.

Figaro: You know, Oz. I think love is about kindness and mercy.

Oz: ..........

Oz gazed back at me in silence. This is the usual: he always looks at me as he listens.
We’re locking eyes, so you would think he must be solemnly empathizing.
Don’t be fooled. You’ll be disappointed.
Oz basically never understands what I’m saying.
Even if his gaze is sincere, he’s simply watching my lips and eyes as if it’s scenery outside his window.
I do not mean to slight him. It’s simply the truth. Oz is the wizard who rules the world.
How could he ever understand the feelings of others?
I knew that, and yet, I continued. I am essentially speaking to myself.

Figaro: To care for someone. To imagine how someone feels, and to stand by their side....
To suffer great sacrifices as you proffer blessings to others. I thought that was love.
Let’s say that the world would end tomorrow.....
And you could save the world in exchange for the life of someone deeply precious to you. I would be able to kill that individual.

Oz’s gaze grows slightly sharper.
He is, at his core, a beast, so he’s sensitive to tales of life and death.
I close my eyes and imagine the faces of all the precious individuals in my life.

Figaro: It’s not that I think nothing of their lives. I would probably be so sad and hurt that I would rather die myself.
But I would endure that pain and choose to save the world.
Because I feel like that choice is closer to this thing called love.

Oz: ...........

I’m being deliberately vague and remiss.
Because Oz won’t understand, and because I’m too terrified and bewildered to turn this concept into a comprehensive string of words.
The people of the ruined village who offered me everything they had.
They put me before their own children and parents. To suppress one’s heart and make great sacrifices for someone else’s comfort — that is love.
That must be true. Otherwise, why were they born into this world? What meaning was there in their death?
They could not stuff their cheeks with sweet fruit. They could not warm themselves with sturdy coats of fur. And they could not be saved by the very god they trusted.

Figaro: .....But watching you makes me feel differently.

Oz: .....Me?

I turn my eyes upward to look at Oz again. The reflection of the cackling fire dances about on Oz’s dark hair.
I believe I was smiling.

Figaro: You would choose Arthur, even if it meant the destruction of the world.

Oz: ............

Figaro: It’s a selfish, atrocious choice — inconsiderate of any care or consequence. It would mean the loss of countless lives.
And yet. It looks more like love.

A spark jumps from the fireplace.
I bring my glass to my lips with a bitter smile. Oz is perplexed; his gaze wanders.
It feels kind of good to see Oz looking so confused.

Figaro: What do you think?

Oz: What do you mean?

Figaro: About what I just said. Didn’t I make it simple for you? Do you disagree with me on any points?

The creases between Oz’s eyebrows grow deeper. This is the face he made whenever I offered him unfamiliar food for the first time.
No. He looks far more human today. For he is no longer the king of solitude.

Oz: .....I do not love him.

Figaro: You mean Arthur? You’re still going to insist you can turn him to stone and consume him?

Oz: Of course.

That’s what Oz says, but he is visibly flustered. It puts me off.

Figaro: Liar.

Oz: I am not lying. ....I do not know. I do not want to think about this.

Figaro: About Arthur turning to stone? Now that’s love, see: you don’t want to think about it because you love him.

Oz: Then why do you think about it?

Figaro: Huh?

Oz: Why do you think about killing others to save the world?

Figaro: When you put it like that..... Maybe I don’t love them after all. Maybe I have no attachment to anything. Maybe I’m devoid of affection.
Maybe my love was always wrong.

I’m at a loss. I feel empty inside. I feel something collapsing within the depths of my body — as if I’ve missed my chance to bawl my eyes out.
O, my beloveds. I pray for your happiness.
That is the truth. And yet — why can’t I sacrifice this world for you?
I fall silent.
Perhaps he thinks the silence is awkward. Or perhaps it surprises him. Oz pours me more wine.
A wine like syrupy nectar — a wine born from a fruit that rotted miraculously.

Oz: I do not think you are wrong.

Oz must be trying his best to console me. My shoulders shake as I bring the glass to my mouth.

Figaro: You also don’t think I’m right.

Oz shakes his head, visibly irritated. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation.

Oz: I do not know about love.
But you are merciful. Your actions saved Arthur more than mine did.
And you once saved me too.

Figaro: I see.....

Oz: Arthur and I are both alive today. Even if your love is not truly love.

Figaro: ............

Oz: And that is the end of this conversation.

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17.5 An Abundance of Caution

Figaro: We’re back.

Mitile: We just got back.

Lennox: Doctor Figaro. Mitile.

When Mitile and I return to the magic headquarters, we find Lennox packing his belongings.
Looks like he’s ready to take off any moment now. Something must have happened.
The magic headquarters are quiet tonight. The chilly night wind knocks against the windows of the common area, rattling them.
Only the Southern wizards have returned.
No — we’re actually one Southern wizard short.

Mitile: ....Huh? Where’s nii-sama?

Lennox: You didn’t run into Rutile?

Figaro: We did not. Did he head out to meet us mid-way? Did he have something to tell us?

Lennox: Yes... Sir Faust sent us a message.

Figaro: Faust?

I raise my head as I place my bag on the ground.

Lennox: Yes. You see....

Lennox is speaking quickly — something’s going on here. But midway through his sentence, he sees Mitile’s troubled expression and shuts his mouth.
He probably thinks we should discuss this somewhere else. He grabs my arm and tries to walk into another room.

Lennox: Doctor Figaro. Let’s talk over there.

Figaro: Yeah...

As I’m about to nod, Mitile raises his voice.

Mitile: It’s okay. You can talk about it in front of me.
Nii-sama knows what’s going on, right? If it’s a message from Mister Faust, that means it probably has to do with Mister Shino too, and....
And I want to know. Please tell me. I won’t cry from shock.

Mitile’s gaze is sincere. For him, this isn’t some minor issue that can be brushed off.
Every time we draw a line like this, praying that children can remain children for just a bit longer, they yearn to leap over that line.
This is a problem that has persisted for millennia; a problem with no answer.
We don’t want them to feel excluded. We just want their worlds to stay kind and beautiful.
His determined, desperate glare might reflect his frustration with my day-to-day attitude.
I turn to Lennox. Because I don’t want Mitile to hate me.

Figaro: ....What do you say? Is it something we can tell Mitile?

Lennox: ........Well, for now.....

His vague, uneasy response makes me frown. But Lennox doesn’t look quite desperate yet.
Faust has a very serious personality. It’s not out of the ordinary for him to provide frequent status updates on missions.
Also, if something really had happened to Faust, Lennox wouldn’t still be here. That gives me some sense of ease.
I think we can tell Mitile. I put my arm on Mitile’s shoulder and guide him to a chair.

Figaro: All right. Mitile, let’s hear what Lennox has to say together.

Mitile: Yes....!

Mitile’s eyes glimmer with delight. He sits up, prepared to accept the truth.
Even such a minor concession makes him happy, because he thinks it’s a sign that we trust him. How adorable — my heart pangs with sweet sorrow.
We spent a long time nurturing our bond; I don’t want to cut it off. I pray in my heart as I prompt Leno.

Figaro: Lennox, can you tell us what happened?

Lennox: Yes.
Right when we returned to the magic headquarters, we ran into Sir Faust’s familiar.
It had a message from the City of Rain in Eastern Country, where the Eastern wizards were carrying out their mission.

Figaro: And what did Faust say?

Lennox: "Nero and Heathcliff infiltrated Hotel Imbrium, the inn built over the guild remains."
"Shino and I were keeping watch from outside the hotel when we suddenly lost track of their presence."
"Cause of disappearance unknown. We plan to infiltrate the guild remains to track down their whereabouts."
"I cannot sense any magical presence that raises alarm. We met Tanya, the hunter from Jura Forest. We are providing this report to the magic headquarters out of an abundance of caution."

Figaro: I see.....

Mitile: ....Mister Nero and Mister Heathcliff disappeared....?

Lennox: Yes.

Mitile: Oh no.... ......Will they be okay......? They’ll be okay, right, Doctor Figaro?

Mitile looks up at me worriedly. I’m overwhelmed with the desire to give him the reassurance he desires, but I choose my words carefully.

Figaro: I can’t say for sure. Faust should be more or less capable of tracking the presence of any familiar wizards within a wide territorial range.
Yet he reported that they went missing. He must’ve sent a message to give us a lead in case he and Shino went missing as well.

Mitile: ...........

Lennox: Doctor Figaro.

Figaro: It’s the truth. We always try to hide the truth to avoid hurting Mitile, but.....
That ends up hurting him even more. That’s what we talked about today, right?

Mitile: ......Yes.....

Mitile nods slowly.
I was worried that I might be forcing him to swallow the truth, but Mitile looks back at me with a steady gaze.
I smile, and touch his back.

Figaro: All right, let’s continue. But you can tell me if the conversation is getting too overwhelming.

Mitile: All right.....

Now Mitile looks anxious. Perplexed, I ask Lennox.

Figaro: ....Hang on, maybe I should lie and tell him everything is all right. What do you think?

Lennox looks at me with undistilled contempt. This guy just does that sometimes. I really need to teach him a lesson one of these days.

Lennox: Don’t ask me in front of Mitile.

Before I can make any excuses, Mitile raises his voice, slowly blinking his gentle green eyes.

Mitile: ......So there are things you don’t understand either, Doctor Figaro......

Figaro: There are many things I don’t know. Especially when it comes to you guys.

My lips naturally curve upward. I don’t dislike it when people point out my ignorance.
Akira expressed the same kind of surprise, as did Faust during his training. I really enjoy those moments.
It tickles my heart, because I feel like someone has caught sight of my humanity — a side of me that no one else has picked up on.
Mitile breaks out into a smile as well. He leans towards me, ever-so-slightly. I think this is a gesture of trust.
It makes me happy.

Figaro: Now... Rutile left because he wanted to ask me what we should do, right?

Lennox: Yes. We wanted to check if we should head straight to the City of Rain in the East.

Figaro: I can’t say for sure. If Faust wanted reinforcements, I think he would say so outright.

I think of Faust’s personality. He’s not a coward; he’s also the last person who would be concerned with appearances, and the information he delivers is always precise.
He neither under- nor over-estimates others. And he prioritizes the safety of his comrades over all else, so he doesn’t hesitate to request reinforcements.
A report sent out of an abundance of caution. That’s all there is to it.

Figaro: Faust might’ve already infiltrated the hotel and found the two of them. If we make a big fuss and rush to his rescue, wouldn’t that end up wounding his pride?

Lennox: What....?

Figaro: What?

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17.6 A Forceful Gust and an Unknown Power

Lennox: Ah, I mean. I think Sir Faust.... Would not be concerned with such trivialities.....

Figaro: Maybe when he’s dealing with you. But he’s in a complicated position now.

Lennox: I don’t believe he is; it’s just that your position in Sir Faust’s eyes is complicated, Sir Figaro......

Figaro: Lennox.

Lennox: Yes. I apologize.

Our opinions clashed. They wouldn’t have clashed four hundred years ago.
The Faust we knew from four hundred years would’ve said this when we appeared to help him:
"I apologize for causing concern. Thank you for saving us, Sir Figaro."
But the current Faust would probably say this:
"Why’d you come? I said I was providing a report out of an abundance of caution. Am I really that untrustworthy?"

Figaro: Think about it. We head out on overnight missions all the time.

Lennox: That is true.....

Figaro: And if we make too much of a fuss, Faust’s students will make fun of him. Especially Shino — he’s kind of cheeky.

Lennox: I believe Shino respects Sir Faust in his own way.....

Figaro: I know that. Let’s wait till morning.
If we wait till morning, and they still haven’t returned, we head to Eastern Country. How does that sound?

Lennox pushes up his glasses with a grim expression on his face. He considers my proposal for a good while before nodding.

Lennox: All right.

Figaro: Good. Mitile, we might have to leave early tomorrow morning.
Do you want to come with us? You can stay behind if you want.

Mitile: I’ll go! I’m worried about Mister Shino and Mister Heathcliff, and.....

Figaro: All right. Then let’s.....

A powerful gust of wind rushes by us and the door slams shut.
That’s all there is to it. But I have a bad feeling about this.
Did I make the wrong call? Should I rush to their rescue right away?
But I don’t want to make another unnecessary move that might make Faust hate me.
He’s a powerful wizard. He can solve most problems on his own. I should stop acting like his guardian.
Because we couldn’t become like Oz and Arthur.

Mitile: I’ll clean the dining hall for when the Eastern wizards and everyone else comes back.

Lennox: That sounds like a good idea. I wonder what’s keeping Rutile.
I hope he comes back soon.....

✦✧☾✧✦

Rutile: Where are Mitile and Doctor Figaro....?
I’ve done a full sweep of the Central capital, but I still can’t find them.... Maybe we missed each other....?
Mister Leno looked really worried.... He said he and Mister Faust were old friends, after all......
I hope the Eastern wizards are all okay......
....Hm? Is that person waving in my direction....?
Is he waving at me to come over? I wish I could go, but I need to......
.....!? Woah....!?
I can’t control my broom.....!? Something’s pulling me down towards the earth!?
I’m going to fall.....!!

(Thump)

Rutile: ......! Oww....!

Isaac: ...........

Rutile: Ah! I-I’m sorry! Thank you for catching me. Are you all right....?

Townsperson: Oh my god! Someone fell from the sky!

Townsperson: It’s a wizard! He fell from his broom!

Child: It’s Mister Rutile! Mister Rutile!

Rutile: Ah, erm, hello.

Townsperson: Ah, Mister Rutile! You’re the Southern wizard who tended to my child’s wounds!
I’m glad you’re not hurt. This sturdy guy really saved the day! What strength!

Child: You’re so strong! Can you lift me too?

Isaac: ..........

Townsperson: Ah, sorry for making a fuss. Here, take this. It’s a token of my gratitude for your act of bravery.

Isaac: .....Wine?

Townsperson: That’s right. Enjoy your night!

Child: That big guy was amazing!

Townsperson: He sure was! Eat up and maybe you’ll be that big one day.

Child: Ahahaha!

Isaac: ...........

Rutile: Ah....! I’m sorry, I spaced out in your arms.
I can stand on my own now! There... Are you hurt anywhere!?
Hm....? Hang on, are you Doctor Figaro’s acquaintance from this afternoon.....?

Isaac: That’s right.
I’m Isaac.

Rutile: Mister Isaac......

Isaac: Rutile?

Rutile: That’s right. I’m Rutile Flores.

Isaac: I’m glad I stopped you. Nights are boring, you see.
And Mithra’s not around. Chat with me. We have a bottle of wine for the occasion.

Rutile: Mister Mithra....? You know Mister Mithra too?

Isaac: All wizards know of Mithra.

Rutile: You’re a wizard too....? Are you the one who pulled me down to earth?

Isaac: Yes.

Rutile: I see. You surprised me.
Mister Mithra can be rather forceful as well, but that was dangerous. I could’ve crashed.

Isaac: ..........

Rutile: But you also saved me. So thank you, Mister Isaac.
I’m happy to meet someone who knows both Doctor Figaro and Mister Mithra.

Isaac: I am happy to meet you too. Hm.... Let me give you this wine. Let’s drink right away.

Rutile: Um......

Isaac: There are some bad guys in this city. But there are good guys too.
There’s an abundance of good guys. Haha.... Let’s buy something. I’m hungry.

Rutile: Ah.... I really appreciate the invitation, but I have some urgent business.....

Isaac: ...........

Rutile: So let’s enjoy a bottle of wine together on another day. With Mister Mithra and Doctor Figaro.

Isaac: You have urgent business?

Rutile: Yes.

Isaac: And what is that?

Rutile: Doctor Figaro and my little brother haven’t returned to the magic headquarters yet, and I’m looking for them......

Isaac: Figaro..... So Figaro isn’t around.

Rutile: That’s right.

Isaac: ..............
That’s terrible. Let me search with you.

Rutile: No, no, it’s all right. I phrased that poorly. It’s not like he disappeared....

Isaac: Rutile.

Rutile: Yes.

Isaac: You had better listen to me.

Rutile: ...........

Isaac: .....Was that weird? I just want to help........

Rutile: No, it’s just..... You kind of remind me of Mister Mithra. I can tell that you both mean well.

Isaac: I have some idea where Figaro might be. He’s over.... Over that way. Let’s go together.

Rutile: Over that way? Did he leave town....?

Isaac: Rutile. Show me your face.

Rutile: My face? Woah....

Isaac: ..........

Rutile: P... Please don’t grab my face so forcefully, you’re going to stretch out my neck......

Isaac: What do you do for a living?

Rutile: A living? You mean my job? I was a teacher back in Southern Country.

Isaac: You teach?

Rutile: Yes....

Isaac: You must have been happy.

Rutile: Yes.... You’re right.... I was happy.

Isaac: .........

Rutile: .....Were you not, Mister Isaac......?

Isaac: Hm?

Rutile: Your eyes look so sorrowful....

Isaac: No.
This is joy.

Rutile: ..........

Isaac: Let’s go.

Rutile: Y.... Yes.

back to top


17.7 Paying a Visit on a Moonlit Night

(Door opens)

Arthur: .............
The truth about Sir Oz’s past......
What am I going to do with that knowledge? Say those brutal and vicious tales turn out to be true. What will I—.......

(Whoosh)

Arthur: .............! The window flew open....... Was that the wind......?

Owen: It’s me.

Arthur: Owen!

Owen: Hmph. You’re wide open, Sir Prince. If I had been an assassin, you’d have a dagger through your heart by now.

Arthur: Thank you for worrying about me. Cain is always telling me that I should check before opening my windows too......

Owen: Don’t mention that name!

Arthur: ......Do you mean Cain? Did something happen between you two?

Owen: I told you not to say that name. .......Actually, maybe we should talk about Cain. Let me tell you a story that will fill you with despair, Sir Prince.

Arthur: Despair? Me?

Owen: Yes. Do you want to hear it?

Arthur: Hmm...... I don’t really want to hear it if it’ll fill me with despair.

Owen: Hah? Hear me out.

Arthur: I don’t want to hear any tales of despair, but if you mean to tell a story about Cain, then I don’t think you have any cause to worry that I’ll be disappointed.

Owen: But you will be. You might scream and faint, or go mad with rage and draw your sword.

Arthur: I find that hard to believe. But if we’re going to chat, let me prepare some tea. What would you like?

Owen: Listen to me. Your knight is on the verge of losing his very honor as a knight.

Arthur: Do you mean to say his reputation is in danger?

Owen: You could say that. Basically, he’s falling into depravity. Cain chose depravity.

Arthur: Cain chose this fall into depravity?

Owen: That’s right. If you doubt it, come with me and see for yourself.
He’s all but drowning in the pleasures of Western Country — to the point of selling you out and betraying your country. I want to show you that sight.

Arthur: ............
That will not be necessary.

Owen: Why? Afraid of facing the truth?

Arthur: I believe in Cain. I’m sure he has his reasons.
If he does not wish for me to see him like that, then I will not. All I can do is trust in Cain and wait for him.

Owen: Acting like you’re above it all....... You’re such a hypocrite that it makes me ill. You’re nothing more than a coward who looks away from the truth.
Think of how much he cares for and values his pride — and yet he’s acting so shamelessly, throwing it all away in your name.
He’s trading away something more important to him than his soul. Doesn’t that pain you?

Arthur: What? Of course it does. Is he doing it for my sake?

Owen: That’s what he said. I told you already.

Arthur: You did not. Is Cain going around acting like that again?

Owen: That’s right! Doesn’t it make you mad?!

Arthur: If anything, it makes me sad. I don’t want him to betray his own heart. Is there still time to stop him?
If that’s the case, we can still turn things around. Can we make it on time to intervene?

Owen: Who knows. If you say you want to stop him, Sir Prince, I suppose I could lend you a hand.

Arthur: Fill me in on the details. What is Cain trying to do, and why is he doing it?
If his thoughts are truly tormenting him, I would rush to his side at once to stop him. But if he has ulterior motives, then I want to respect his intentions.

Owen: You don’t have to. You’re his lord — just give him an order and force him to obey you.

Arthur: Cain is my friend. I do not wish to go so far as disregarding his will and forcing him to obey me.

Owen: Hey...... Why are you pretending to be a good boy? You’d hate it if he fell into depravity, wouldn’t you?

Arthur: Why would Cain fall into depravity?

Owen: I goaded him over the edge. I waited to see him turn into a vulgar lowlife who drowns himself in drinking and gambling and philandering with women.

Arthur: Has he?

Owen: Yes.

Arthur: Really......? You’re sure you didn’t cast a spell over him?

Owen: No. This might be Cain’s true nature.

Arthur: That’s impossible, Owen.

Owen: ............

Arthur: Just now, you called me a coward who looked away from the truth, but......
I have faith in what I see with my own eyes; I believe that I am looking at the truth.
Be it Cain, or Sir Oz — the Cain and Sir Oz I know are their true selves.

Owen: What does Oz have to do with anything? I don’t want to hear that name.

Arthur: ............

Owen: What?

Arthur: Nothing...... So, you don’t remember what happened.

Owen: Hah?

Arthur: Fufu...... I was quite jealous, you know. I’ve hardly seen him with such a gentle expression, not since we were reunited.

Owen: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Arthur: That makes two of us.
I don’t know Cain’s situation, but would it hurt him if I showed up? What do you think, Owen?

Owen: Don’t ask me. I’m just here to be a nuisance.

Arthur: ............
Got it. Take me to him.
You can get us to the West faster, right?

Owen: Well, yes. If you insist on going no matter what, I guess I could consider taking you there.

Arthur: I insist. My knight is of utmost importance to me.

Owen: Hmph......

Arthur: Thanks for coming to me.

Owen: ............
Don’t get too angry.

Arthur: Huh? At you?

Owen: I’m talking about Cain. It makes him miserable when you scold him.

Arthur: He’ll be fine. Even if I scold him, Cain does what he wants to.

Owen: Hmm...... So you’re not going to get mad?

Arthur: I will. After all, I also do what I want to do. How about you, Owen?

Owen: What about me?

Arthur: Are you doing what you wish to do?

Owen: Of course. I’m a Northern wizard.

Arthur: Good. I’m glad to hear that.

Owen: ............
I’ll give you a ride to the tower on my broom. Get on.

Arthur: Okay. Thanks.

Owen: Don’t get thrown off. You’ll plummet to the ground head first and shatter into pieces.

Arthur: I would never get thrown off: I’ve been riding on the back of Sir Oz’s broom since I was a child.

Owen: You’ve got some nerve.

Arthur: I’m getting excited. Let’s go save Cain together.

Owen: We’re not doing anything together. You’re just acting out on your own.

Arthur: Where does that leave you?

Owen: I’m going along to get in your way.

Arthur: That sounds complicated, but let’s both do our very best.

Owen: Shut up. You’ll bite your tongue.

(Whoosh)

✦✧☾✧✦

Riquet: ............
Where am I......?
I came out here to look for Oz, because he’s taking so long to get back. But then I wandered into this mysterious, beautiful place......
This is such a vast bed of flowers. I wonder who planted it.
I’d love to bring Mitile and Rutile here and show them. They both love flowers.

(Footsteps)

Riquet: ............? What was that sound......?
Who’s there?

???: That is my line.

Riquet: You are..... An unfamiliar old man.

???: As you are an unfamiliar boy to me. How did you get lost and wander in here?
The guards will have your head if they find you. You’re lucky you ran into me first.

Riquet: I see. I’m very grateful to you then.

???: Haha...... What a strange child you are. Well, it does not signify. You could be an illusion my mind conjured up, for all I know......

Riquet: I am not an illusion.

???: It makes no difference. Sigh......
......What a lovely garden......

Riquet: I was thinking the very same thing.

???: I feel like myself again...... I yearn to see it in daylight, just once more......
But how fitting for this to be my final glimpse of the world......

Riquet: ......Your final glimpse of the world......?

???: ......It’s nothing...... Forgive my ramblings......

Riquet: ............?
Huh...... Could you tilt your face up towards the moon?

???: Why?

Riquet: I want to see you properly. I feel like I’ve seen someone like you before......

???: Haha..... Perhaps you have. On a paper bill, or on the back of a coin......

Riquet: No, that’s not it...... Ah, I remember now.
You remind me of Lord Antonio. He lives in the Heavenly Imperial Palace in Western Country.
Murr kindly showed me his portrait when we received it.

???: Antonio...... Thank goodness Antonio did not fall victim to the assassinations......
Everyone hovered over me, treated me as if I were porcelain. I did not get to live my own life — I could not.
I would have been fine with that, but to think such a dreadful situation would arise.......

Riquet: ......Are you unwell? You look pale, and not just from the moonlight.......

???: No matter...... It is too late........

Riquet: You can confide in me if you have any troubles. I am God’s disciple, and one of the Sage’s wizards. My name is Riquet Ortiz.

???: ......The Sage’s wizards......

Riquet: Yes. Right now, we are in the midst of addressing the mysterious incidents happening in different countries. Please, talk to me.

???: ......P......Please tell the Sage.......
To save this country........ Save m—.......
......Argh......... Ghhh..............!

Riquet: What’s wrong?! Does your head hurt?!

???: ......Ughh......
............
Oh, my...... However did I end up here.......

Riquet: Are you all right?

???: Oh? I have never seen you before. The guards will have your head if they find you. Hurry and run along now.

Riquet: But......

???: I need to head back as well. Dear me, it’s gotten so chilly......

Riquet: ............
He said the same thing twice.

Oz: Riquet.

Riquet: Oz. I was looking for you.

Oz: I told you to wait at the inn. Do you realize how many times I fell asleep trying to trace your presence....

Riquet: There’s so much dirt on your clothes. Let me brush it off for you.

Oz: These lands most likely belong to the nobility or the crown. We’re surrounded by high walls, and there’s a castle beyond the walls.

Riquet: I see. I met an old man. He left a message for Sir Sage, but......

Oz: What did he say?

Riquet: He started acting strangely halfway through the message. I never ended up hearing it.

Oz: ............
We shall confirm the location of this place tomorrow.

Riquet: That’s a good idea. Cain might have an idea too.
Did you talk to Prince Arthur?

Oz: ............

Riquet: You did meet Prince Arthur, right?

Oz: That does not concern you.

Riquet: It totally does.

Oz: ......He was busy with his duties. I could not call out to him.

Riquet: I see.
I’m sure he would’ve been happy if you did. But it is commendable of you to show restraint.

Oz: Is that so.

(Running footsteps)

Voice of soldiers: Intruders, intruders! Find them!
They must be wizards! Stay alert......!

Riquet: ............? There’s quite a commotion over there. I wonder what happened.

Oz: Let us return to the inn. It would be troublesome to get involved.

Riquet: Okay.

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17.8 Something That Has Awakened

Eva: .............
......Why, Sophie.......

Mithra: << Arthim >>

Eva: ..............!

Snow: Oh!

White: It’s Eva! Excellent work, Mithra.

Mithra: I told you. No target has ever eluded my hunt.

Bradley: Good job, Mithra. Wait here.

Mithra: Hah?

Bradley: Eva!

Eva: Stay away from me! I can’t believe you brought Mithra too......!

Bradley: I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I just wanted to talk to you.

Eva: Boy. There is a limit to how much I will indulge you. Leave, and take them with you.

Mithra: It’s been a while, Eva. Did you know Tiretta–......

Eva: Stay away from me!

Snow: Mithra, Mithra. Listen to Eva.

White: Stay put. Be that as it may, it seems like you have fallen into Eva’s bad graces.

Mithra: I once visited Eva’s dwellings with Tiretta.

Eva: I will kill you if you say another word.

Mithra: You didn’t have to move, you know?

Eva: Prepare your parting words.

Mithra: Why are you so mad? Tiretta’s dead, Eva.

Eva: I know.

Mithra: I see.

Eva: I see you inherited Tiretta’s magical object.

Mithra: Yes.

Eva: Look at you — a pathetic excuse for a man. You let the twins walk free, despite inheriting the great witch’s skull.

Mithra: ..............

Eva: She truly thought too highly of you.

Mithra: .......Hah?

Snow: Don’t look at us, Mithra.

White: Don’t fall for her provocation, Mithra dear.

Mithra: If you’re looking to fight, I’ll take you up on that offer whenever you wish.

Snow: I think we’re good on fights for now~.

White: Everything’s going swimmingly~. We’re all friends here~.

Bradley: Don’t rile Mithra up, Eva. I just wanna talk to you. We have nothing but admiration and respect for you.

Eva: You’ve got a sweet tongue.......
All right. I’ll spare you some of my time. What do you wish to talk about?

Bradley: You told me to stay away from Western Country; you mentioned something awakening from its slumber.
I’m sure you already know, but all kinds of weird things have popped up since the last < Great Catastrophe > attacked.
Extinct creatures coming back to life; long-buried grudges and passions rekindling in stronger and more mysterious forms.
We’ve been working with the Sage from a different world, running around and cleaning up all these mysterious incidents.

Eva: Sounds like hard work.

Bradley: It’s not that bad. Going on missions with the Sage beats rotting in prison.

Eva: What are they like?

Bradley: The sage?

Eva: Yes.

Bradley: He’s like a baby chick that can’t fly properly on its own. But I can see his potential: he doesn’t run from the wind and rain. He has what it takes to grow into a mighty oak.
Maybe it’s just because he has nowhere to run to, but I get the feeling he’s got the strength to dig his roots into the soil at his own pace. I really wish you could meet him.

Eva: Someday, perhaps.

Bradley: I really hope so.
Anyway, back to the topic. If you’ve heard bad news, I want to know it first.
I want to get that information to the Sage. Well, officially, that’s our excuse, but to tell you the truth, Mithra and I are looking for a diversion so we can have some fun.
If you’re telling me to stay away from it, that’s all the more reason to do the opposite.

Eva: ...............

Snow: Eva looks vexed. Well, Bradley brought it upon himself for disregarding her warning.

White: Ohoho, it might not come to that. Eva is fond of headstrong youngsters. This must be quite moving for her.

Eva: Are you so fond of dying?

Snow & White: Sca~ry!

Bradley: Can the two of you stop pissing her off? Hey, Eva. Tell me a little more? What the hell is awakening?

Eva: Getting involved will bring you nothing but trouble; it will not serve as the simple diversion you are looking for.

Bradley: I can decide that for myself. Come on, Eva.

Mithra: If you won’t tell us, I don’t mind taking you on as our divers—.......Mmmph!

Bradley: Even Mithra’s asking for your help.

Eva: .......Fine. I’ll tell you.
About two months ago......
I spent a considerable time touring the continents with my apprentice Sophie, to deepen her knowledge and experience of the world.
One day, we heard the violent sound of the earth shattering and saw the seas turn rough and turbulent around the islands along the west coast of Western Country.
Something neither dead nor alive was drawing its breath at the island sunken in the depths of the ocean.

Snow: A sunken island......? That sounds familiar.

White: Did Shylock mention he had something to do with that? What was the island called again......
Ah, Adams Island. It used to be situated off the coast of Borda Island.

Bradley: .......Borda Island. They found remains of a moon-summoning ritual there too.

Eva: A moon-summoning ritual?

Snow: That’s right. Have you heard of it?

Eva: ..............

Bradley: Eva?

Eva: ......Sophie said she found the remains of a summoning ritual too.

Bradley: Your apprentice did?

Eva: Yes: on the plains beyond the northeastern forests bordering this village.
You can’t even get close to those parts anymore. Something disrupted the order of the land and sent the spirits into a wild frenzy.
I warned Sophie to stay away. She seemed intrigued, but.......

Mithra: So you took on an apprentice, huh, Eva.

Eva: That has nothing to do with you.

Mithra: It does, though. Tiretta said she wanted to make me fight your apprentice if you ever took one on.

Eva: Don’t make me laugh. My apprentice would never lose to a brat like you.
.......No. She is no longer my apprentice...... That thing betrayed me.

Bradley: Don’t assume the worst. Maybe there’s some reason you don’t know yet.
She was interested in the summoning ritual, right?
You sure she didn’t wander by that place you mentioned and get swallowed up by the spirits going wild?

Eva: I am certain that can’t be. I would know her presence, even if the spirits consumed her.
There is no trace of Sophie in that place.

Mithra: Are you sure someone didn’t turn her into stone and eat her?

Eva: Impossible.

Mithra: You don’t know that. I could easily turn one young girl into stone. How powerful was she?

Eva: ..............
In time, she will be powerful enough to surpass Oz.

Mithra: Hah?

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17.9 The Witch’s Parting Words

Snow: Ohoho! Tiretta said something like that too.

White: What a pity she turned into stone before she could see Mithra surpass Oz. Well, what can you do!

Snow & White: Oz is the child we raised, after all!

Eva: One of these days, Sophie will kill him.

Mithra: I can’t ignore that. I can take Oz down any day; I’m just going easy on him for now.

Eva: Why?

Mithra: At night, Oz–......

Bradley: That’s enough, Mithra. The rest of you can argue as much as you want afterwards.
Eva. You really have no idea where Sophie went?
I mean, maybe your apprentice didn’t betray you.

Eva: That’s your wishful thinking.

Bradley: You’re so stubborn. Do you have any proof she betrayed you?

Eva: ............
I ordered her to stay and wait for me in this village until I took care of some matters elsewhere.

Bradley: This village, huh? What happened after that?

Eva: She was gone when I returned. I searched for her desperately, but I could not find her.
Nor did I sense her stone. I retraced her steps and asked the villagers if they had seen her.

Bradley: And?

Eva: ............. They told me she left the village with a tall man.

Snow: Ah.

White: So that's how it was.

Mithra: Huh? What does that mean?

Snow: Well, you know, eloping.

White: It might have been love, or she might have simply yearned for a life other than bitter, harsh training.

Eva: ................
Die.

Bradley: Calm down! Are you sure this Sophie of yours doesn’t have some kinda other talent?

Eva: Other talent?

Bradley: Yeah, like cooking, or blacksmithing, or sewing. You know, something you can set up shop for.

Mithra: Maybe she went on a trip, and encountered some type of human who reads poems aloud by the lakeside.

Eva: Do not mess with me. Who cares about ridiculous things like cooking or poetry?

Bradley: I’m serious, though.

Mithra: Me too.

Eva: I’m through with entertaining you. Enough of this charade.

Bradley: One last question. Do you know a wizard named Nova?
He might’ve changed his appearance with magic, but he has long white hair, a scar over one eye and an artificial eye for the other.
He’s crazy strong. Even Mithra couldn’t take him down. He has a strange presence; I can’t tell which country he’s from either.
I guess you could say he’s a tall guy. We heard he’s involved with the moon-summoning ritual. Does any of that ring a bell?

Eva: ............... I do not know of him.
But if he’s the man who kidnapped Sophie, I will kill him.

Bradley: If that’s the case, thanks for saving us the trouble. But be careful.
The four of us — Mithra, Owen, me, and another wizard — fought him together and still couldn’t turn him to stone.
I didn’t even hear a single spell from him: he must still be sitting on his true power.

Eva: .......I’ll keep that in mind. Snow, White.

Snow: What is it?

White: Speak.

Eva: A Northern wizard never forgets: I will not overlook how you two and Figaro allowed yourself to become pawns in the humans’ game, and hunted down this boy.

Bradley: ................

Eva: Shameless fools.

Snow: Ohoho. Understand this, Eva, you boar of a witch: we did it for the good of all wizards.

White: A witch as rash and imprudent as you would not understand the intricate principles that govern this world.

Eva: Mithra.

Mithra: Yeah?

Eva: Remember this well, apprentice of the proud Tiretta.
Like her, you are a free wizard; you are bound to no one and answer to no one.
See things for yourself, and consider them thusly. You cannot be careless and indifferent to this world, or you’ll find yourself being used by these dusty old bones.
Tell that to Oz, too.

Mithra: Ah, wait........

(Whoosh)

Mithra: She disappeared.

Bradley: Eva........

Mithra: What did she mean about being used by old bones?

Snow: I have no clue~. I’m young at heart.

White: I may be a ghost, but I still have quite the youthful spirit.

Mithra: Huh. Is that so?
What now, Bradley? You’re the one who dragged me all the way here.

Bradley: That’s right..... Should we check out Borda Island since Eva mentioned it?

Snow: Going from this snowscape to Borda Island, huh.

White: I’d catch a cold if I still had a body. How lucky I am to be a ghost.

Snow: However, it is almost nightfall.

White: We will turn into a painting soon. Would it not be better to return to the magic headquarters?

Bradley: Good point.

Mithra: Where was Borda Island again?

Bradley: We’ve been there a couple times with the Sage. And the new master of the island invited us there a while back, remember?
Even though they didn’t come back in time to meet us, and you and Oz got into an all-out brawl........

Mithra: Okay, but we get into all-out brawls everywhere..... Well, it’s all the same to me. I don’t know where it is, but I have a rough hunch. Let’s try it.

Snow: Are we really going to Borda Island? On your rough hunch........?

White: You’re just going to hunch open a door in space........?

Bradley: Are we gonna, like, be okay........?

Mithra: Yeah. It’s not a problem.

Snow & White: Not reassuring........

Bradley: I’ll have the pepper ready in case we land somewhere crazy.......

Mithra: Oka~y, let’s go.
<< Arthim >>

(Whoosh)



Snow & Bradley & White: ................!?

Mithra: We’ve arrived at Borda Island.

Snow in the portrait: Borda Island!? Where’s the sea?

White in the portrait: Something tells me this isn’t Borda Island!?

Bradley: You guys turned into the painting! Guess the sun just set.......

Mithra: This is Borda Island. Listen, you can hear the waves.

White in the portrait: Waves? Can you hear anything.......?

Mithra: You can. Just listen carefully.......

???: Eeeeeek..........!

Mithra: Huh?

Snow & White in the portrait: Someone is screaming!

Snow in the portrait: Bradley!

Bradley: What? Are you asking me to save them?

White in the portrait: We’ll give you a reward for volunteer activities!

Bradley: Guess that’s good enough. Let’s go, Mithra!

Mithra: Do I have to come too?

Bradley: You just wanna wait here and twiddle your thumbs?
This can’t be Borda Island...... It feels like Western Country, but this looks way too close to the Town of Wealth to be an island.
And that building in the distance...... That’s the Western palace.
So we are close to the Town of Wealth.

Snow in the portrait: That’s our marksman. You have sharp eyes.

White in the portrait: Shouldn’t the Western and Central wizards be visiting the Town of Wealth right now?

???: Help! Someone help.......!

Bradley: It’s coming from this building. Let’s head in.

Mithra: I’ll go.

(Door creaks open)

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17.10 The Noble’s Eyes

Night has fallen by the time we return to Cortese Castle from the Royal Botanical Garden.
Nightfall in unfamiliar places still makes me a little anxious and nervous.
Even when I’m with very dependable wizards.
Maybe it’s because of the light of the moon.

Murr: Welcome back, Sir Sage~!

Rustica: Welcome back, Sir Sage. You must be tired.

Murr, who made his return earlier, and Rustica welcome us back.

Akira: We’re back. I’m all right. I just rode on Chloe and Shylock’s brooms.

Rustica: Glad to hear it. Come on into the castle. Let’s have some warm tea.

Rustica’s bride might already be dead.
After hearing that — Rustica’s bright smile makes me uneasy.
I can understand why Chloe couldn’t say anything that might hurt him.
Because Rustica’s relaxed and refined gaze, always overflowing with happiness, would make anyone feel like they had to protect him.

Akira: (Even the Northern wizards rarely threaten to murder Rustica....)
(I hope nothing happens that will make him despair.....)
(But what if something does happen? What will I do....? What will Chloe do....? What will Rustica do....?)

Chloe: Rustica, we’re back.

Rustica: Welcome back, Chloe. Did you have fun at the Royal Botanical Garden?

Chloe: Yeah.... Um, we’re planning to go again later.

Rustica: You’re going to head back to the Royal Botanical Garden? Are you that fond of it?

Shylock: There might be a soul shard in those gardens.
The ghost who appears at midnight writes journals in handwriting identical to Murr’s.

Rustica: What a great discovery! So our fate is intertwined with the great scholar Murr, after all.
Isn’t it wonderful, Shylock? You get to meet your precious friend over and over again.

Rustica’s words leave Shylock blinking.
After a short pause, he flashes a quiet smile.

Shylock: He is a troublesome nuisance, but.... Perhaps you are right.

That’s when the servants of Cortese Castle show up.

Elderly butler: We apologize for the tremendous wait, Sir Sage. Your rooms have been prepared.

Gregory: You really did keep them waiting.... I told you all every day to keep the guest rooms prepared in the event we were met with surprise visitors.

Elderly butler: The hardworking youth who always arranges these sorts of affairs has been on extended leave, you see. I wonder what happened to Gregory.

Gregory: I am Gregory. I explained this to someone else earlier. They didn’t pass on the message?

Elderly butler: Gregory, you’re a bird?

Gregory: A lot happened. I’ll put it all into the handover report: the fact that I became a bird, and the proper procedures for when we are housing guests.

Elderly butler: Thank you, that would be helpful.

Gregory: No problem. I’m a good writer. And I can make my own feather pens now.

Elderly butler: Ahaha!

Gregory: This isn’t funny.

The people of Cortese Castle are cheery and laid-back.
Gregory asks them about plans for the night and relays them to us.

Gregory: Sir Sage. Princess Liliana and the Lord and Lady of Cortese Castle are planning to hold a dinner party with General Barnett after this.
It will be Princess Liliana’s last supper at this castle before she goes to live at the Royal Palace for the rest of her life.
This is an entirely personal affair, so I anticipate it will take a good amount of time to wrap up.
General Barnett mentioned inviting you as well, Sir Akira, but.....

Gregory is choosing his words carefully. I smile and shake my head.
I would much rather eat with familiar faces than partake in a solemn banquet.

Akira: No, we would be happy with a simple meal. We want to head back to the Royal Botanical Gardens after this anyway, so....

Gregory: I’m relieved to hear it. The head chef got excited and prepared well over ten platters per person.

Akira: Ten platters......

Gregory: I’ll request that they prepare reasonable portions to serve you all. Also, Sir Sage......

Akira: What is it, Gregory?

Gregory: May I stay behind in this castle when you all leave for the Royal Botanical Garden?
If I can catch an opportunity to speak with Liliana directly, I’d like to take it....

Gregory is being perfectly reasonable.
He stopped us for help in the first place because he wanted us to pinpoint the reason Princess Liliana had changed.
I’m about to say yes when Murr opens his mouth.

Murr: I’d advise against it. Last time you spoke to her when she was alone, you became a bird.
You don’t know what could happen next time.

Shylock: I have to agree. I won’t ask you to come with us, but.....
We don’t want you to put yourself in danger’s way while we can’t keep our eyes on you.

Gregory: Ah..... Thank you. You’re all so kind......

Chloe: It’s nothing! We’re friends! But I understand why you want to solve the mystery as quickly as possible.....
How about staying behind and watching over her? Maybe that alone will lead to some new insights.

Rustica: I agree. Don’t do anything too dangerous. Just as Murr said, she’s a little bird......
.....A little bird.......

Rustica pauses and murmurs in quiet delirium.
His noble, bright blue gaze faces Gregory, but it seems to wander amidst a vast emptiness.
The moon traps us, its rays like a birdcage.
I sense a keen nervousness crawl up Chloe’s cheeks under the pale blue light.
Rustica slowly reaches towards Gregory’s richly colored feathers.

Gregory: ....What’s wrong, Rustica?

Gregory tilts his head.
His beak shakes up and down, and Rustica blinks in surprise.

Rustica: Ah.....
Sorry. What were we talking about again?

Gregory: You forgot? Even though we had the whole conversation right in front of you?

Chloe: S-sorry. Rustica is a little forgetful. We were talking about Gregory and Princess Liliana.

Rustica: That’s right. Gregory, do take care.

Gregory: Thanks. You as well.

Until that moment, I hadn’t even considered....
Why Gregory was turned into a bird.
Why Rustica’s magic tool was a birdcage.
Why Rustica had a habit of turning the people he thought were his bride into birds, and why he tried to trap them in his birdcage.

✦✧☾✧✦

We finish our meal and head back to the Royal Botanical Garden.
In order to meet the midnight ghost.....
Murr’s soul shard.

Kelvin: La~lala..... The poor, tragic noble......
....He’s forgotten his own sins.....
....As he travels through this beautiful world.....

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: So this is the Royal Botanical Garden. It’s a bit dark, but I can tell it’s a lovely place.
I can smell all sorts of plants and flowers. Ah.... What is that?

Chloe: Hang on!

Rustica: Woah.....!

Chloe: I-I don’t want you to get lost. So don’t wander off alone.

Rustica: Don’t worry, Chloe. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay with you.

Chloe: D.... Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m the one who’s worried about you right now.

Rustica: You’re right. Thank you for caring for me.

Chloe: ............
If someone pops up out of nowhere and starts saying weird things.....

Rustica: Hm? Is this a fable?

Chloe: I’m talking about what’s going to happen. If you don’t want to hear what he has to say, you’re allowed to cover your ears.

Rustica: Isn’t it a bit rude to cover your ears when someone is trying to talk to you?

Chloe: It is, but.......

Shylock: Chloe. Do not be overly concerned.

Chloe: ......Yeah.....

Chloe worriedly scans his surroundings as he sticks close to Rustica’s side.
He must be on the lookout for the winged wizard.
Specifically, he’s worried that he’ll tell Rustica about his bride.
I, too, feel strangely nervous. It’s different from the nervousness I feel when we’re facing a great beast, or when I’m about to give a speech in front of a crowd.
It’s fear: fear of the possibility that someone precious to me might get hurt.
I know that it’s coming, yet I can’t push it away.
I’m not allowed to decide what’s best for Rustica.
I can’t tell him to stop searching for his bride; I can’t tell him to remain ignorant of the truth.
But if a disaster is approaching my dear, dear friend.....
How am I supposed to protect him?
I feel my breath growing shallow.
That’s why I know that Chloe must be suffering even more — he’s stayed by Rustica’s side for so long.
We can’t find an exit. We’re lost in the darkness.

Akira: (Huh....?)

I look up. There’s nobody around.
Did I lose them? How? We were walking down a single path.
Now my heart is racing. The murmuring leaves and twisting branches feel like terrifying monsters in the darkness.
I spin around in circles, but don’t see anyone.
I’m about to start yelling out everyone’s names.
In that moment.
Someone grabs my wrist.
And I hear a gentleman’s voice from behind my ear.

Murr’s Soul Shard: Right here, Sir Sage.

Akira: ........!

I spin around.
The man behind me was the Western wizard Murr.
Actually, not quite... He’s Murr’s soul shard.
Taking physical form under the influence of the < Great Catastrophe >.
He narrows his sharp, cat-like eyes and offers me a subtle smile.

Murr’s Soul Shard: You have nothing to fear.
I have been longing to meet you.
My dear, beloved Sir Sage.

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Chapter 16 << | index | >> Chapter 18

Comments

[nutcrack]

thank you for this!