Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

It’s Mostly Thanks to the Gemsmith

The next day, two more people came to watch the after-school dance practice. Namely, Felix and Cyril.

When they appeared, Lana’s cheeks flushed and she gave a shrill “Eek!”

Monica’s cheeks went white, and terrified, she cried, Eek! silently in her heart.

Neil looked troubled, Casey seemed tense, and Glenn, for his part, just grinned and said, “Oh, it’s the prez!” Nothing seemed to intimidate him.

“Wh-what…a-are you, you, you doing here…?” stammered Monica, her voice weak.

Felix’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I told you I had expectations of you, didn’t I? Did you think I was so cold I’d just abandon you after that?”

“That’s right!” chimed in Cyril, voice full of pride. “You should be thankful for the prince’s magnanimity!”

Shouldn’t they be doing student council work…? wondered Monica privately.

Felix glanced at Cyril. “By the way, I don’t remember calling you here.”

“I am your aide, sir! I should naturally accompany you!”

“But you finished all your council work in advance, even before I told you my plans. Are you sure you didn’t intend to come watch Lady Norton’s practice from the start, even without me?”

Cyril flushed for some reason at Felix’s teasing. His gaze drifted. “W-well, I…I predicted what you’d do, sir! I am your right hand, after all!”

It seemed Felix’s aide must always be ready to cater to his whims.

At any rate, Monica wasn’t happy about this situation. Her stomach had already started to sting.

Lana shook Monica’s shoulders. “Look! Isn’t it wonderful? The council president and vice president are both here. Right here!”

Her excitement was probably the normal reaction for a female student of the academy—or so Monica thought, until…

“The prince’s broach—is that peridot?” continued Lana quickly. “Tourmaline? Diopside? Not just any workshop could have produced something that glittery while still retaining so much vivid color. The adornments around it must also be the work of a famous craftsman. I have to make sure I remember this… Ah, I wish I could draw it… Oh! The seal on the clasp of Lord Ashley’s shoes—it’s the kind only engraved on the highest-grade shoes produced by the famous Bart Owen Atelier! I want to get a closer look…”

Lana wasn’t staring at either Felix’s or Cyril’s faces but at their shoes and accessories. Maybe she wasn’t exactly a normal schoolgirl, either.

Monica looked over at Casey. Her usual cheerful smile was gone, and she seemed to be glancing repeatedly at Felix, her face tense. It was only natural to be nervous at the sudden appearance of royalty. Casey’s reaction was probably the most sensible.

As Monica thought about this, Felix cheerfully prompted her and Glenn to dance. “Why not show us what you can do?”

“Got it!” answered Glenn. “Monica, let’s show the president the fruits of our labor!”

Their skills were certainly nothing to be proud of. Where did that confidence come from?

Nervously, Monica took Glenn’s hands as Lana hurriedly sat down at the piano and started to play. Casey kept the beat by clapping.

“Okay, on three!”

“A-all right!”

“One, two, three!”

Monica and Glenn both took a step at the same time. Thanks to their intensive training, the beginning of their dance wasn’t bad. But the more steps they took, the more their feet drifted out of sync with each other.

Eventually, Cyril called out, “Stop!”

Ah, I knew it. I’m just so bad at this…, thought Monica, shrinking in the knowledge that he was about to criticize her.

But Cyril’s blue-eyed glare was set firmly on Glenn, not her. “Glenn Dudley! You call that leading?! You need to rethink your entire attitude toward ladies!”

Monica couldn’t believe what she was hearing from the one who so brutally admonished her all the time. Her eyes widened. She’d been fully prepared for another such scolding session.

Glenn, on the other hand, frowned at the criticism, unhappy. “I was being perfectly polite!”

“You don’t even know how to invite a girl to dance! Stay there and watch!”

Cyril shoved Glenn out of the way, then looked down at Monica, who was cowering in fear. Was this all leading to her and Cyril dancing together? If I step on his foot by accident, he’s liable to freeze me alive…, thought Monica, starting to shake.

Cyril then put his left hand behind his back and bent over at the waist.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“………Huh?”

His elegant bow and completely uncharacteristic words stopped Monica’s thoughts dead in their tracks. As she was standing there agape, Cyril gently—as though handling delicate glasswork—took Monica’s hand in his own.

As Lana began to play, Cyril lightly moved his hand flush with Monica’s body. With that movement, Monica instinctively understood the dance had begun. And even without Glenn counting her in, she strangely knew the timing for the first step.

Guided by Cyril’s hand, Monica moved her feet. She was so focused on her steps that her upper-body choreography grew sloppy; nevertheless, when her back or arms bent, Cyril’s hand would gently correct her posture.

The same went for their direction of movement. Glenn would just say, “Let’s go right next!” or “We’re gonna hit the wall, so let’s go that way!” to direct them, but Cyril didn’t say a word. Instead, he used the hand supporting Monica, his feet, and his gaze to naturally guide her along. He was astonishingly easy to dance with.

When the song ended, Cyril gave another graceful bow, just as he had at the beginning. Then he looked up and over at Glenn…

“See now, whelp?!” he shouted angrily, a look of pride on his face. “That is how you escort a lady!” His attitude was completely changed from when they were dancing—this was the Cyril Monica knew.

Without meaning to, she murmured, “…It’s nice to see Lord Ashley acting himself again.”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Accountant Norton?” Cyril’s glare swiveled to her, and he cleared his throat. “When it comes to ballroom dancing, the man—or lead—essentially determines the outcome. If he does a good job of it and dances to the music’s beat, things will more or less come together.”

“Whoa,” Glenn said, honestly impressed. “That was pretty great!”

“If you’re going to compliment me, look a little deeper into your vocabulary and find some more refined words,” responded Cyril. He looked rather pleased but still maintained his aloof, composed manner.

“Vocabulary, huh…,” said Glenn, falling into thought for a few moments. Then, straightening out his posture, he began again. “You were like, shwwwooo, and then whup! Psssht! It was so cool!”

“…You know what? Manners can come second. You need to learn human language first.” Cyril narrowed his eyes at Glenn before turning back to Monica. “And you, Monica Norton. You still have all manner of issues to resolve. First, you need to get used to being led. Don’t jump at every little thing. Don’t hunch over. Don’t look down. As long as you appear dignified, people will tolerate a surprising number of errors in your footwork.”

“O-okay…” Monica had heard the same advice from both their teacher and Neil. Her posture was very bad. She was so used to stooping and looking down at her feet. Consciously, she straightened up and checked herself in a mirror.

Felix smiled and offered a suggestion. “In that case, Dudley should practice leading, and Lady Norton should get used to being led. Cyril, would you mind showing Dudley the ropes?”

“If you say so, sir…” Cyril nodded, a little reluctant. Then he moved over to Glenn and addressed him arrogantly. “Whelp! I’m about to pound my techniques into your head! First, I want you to think of me as a lady and try to lead!”

“Whaaa…?” groaned Glenn. “Think of you as a lady? …Hmm, nope. Not happening…”

“You don’t always get what you want!”

Cyril dragged him away, shouting at him, as Felix shot Monica a smile. “And so that leaves us, Lady Norton.”

“Y-yes, um… Th-thank you…,” stammered Monica, bowing over and over.

Felix didn’t waste any time reaching a hand toward her. “Come.”

“………” Monica stayed firmly in place and reached her arm out as far as it would go. She managed to touch Felix’s hand with her fingertips.

Felix looked down at her fingertips, still smiling. “I am feeling a surprising lack of enthusiasm.” His lips may have been smiling, but his azure eyes were not.

“I-I’m sorry! Please lead me!” Trembling, she took just a half step forward. He immediately gripped her hand and pulled her closer.

His hand moved to support her body. As soon as she felt it, Monica tensed up. Her youthful face changed color…not to rose red but to pale white. It looked like she was about to faint.

“You acted a lot more naturally when Cyril was your partner.”

“W-well, that’s… Lord Ashley was acting so differently, I was just surprised…” With Cyril, she’d been shocked into a stupor and the dance had started and ended before she even noticed. This, however, was a different situation.

As she quivered, Felix gave instructions to Lana. “Sorry, but would you mind giving us a song? Play it somewhat quietly. And no need to clap along.”

“R-right away, sir!” said Lana with a nod, a little out of breath as she started to play.

The music drifted toward them, a little softer than before, and Felix, still holding Monica’s hand, began to move his feet. It was the same as with Cyril. She didn’t need to be counted in—she could instinctively tell when to start. Felix seemed to be skilled at this as well.

“Don’t worry too much about your feet for now. If you want, you can even forget that you’re dancing at all.”

“…Huh? I can?”

“Yes. Just walk as normal and have a nice conversation with me. You’re a little too tense at the moment.”

The suggestion of a nice conversation left Monica at a total loss. She was terrible at talking and terrible at thinking up topics to talk about. She’d never once managed a decent back-and-forth with someone.

As Monica floundered for a topic, Felix brought his face a tiny bit closer and peered into her eyes. “This is the first time I’m seeing your eyes this close up. They look light brown, but I can see just a little bit of green in them depending on how the light strikes… Like dapples of sunlight deep in a forest.”

“O-oh, er…”

“And your light-brown hair is very pretty and lustrous today. Did you have your friend do it for you again?”

“No, I did it myself today. Um, I bought a new comb recently, so…”

“Oh? What sort of comb?”

“Um, Lana…er, Lady Colette picked it out for me. It has flowers engraved on the handle…”

Monica generally had a hard time making conversation, but as she remembered buying the comb with Lana, her face naturally relaxed.

Seeing that, Felix gave her a soft smile. “So you can smile like that. Let me look more closely.”

With him gazing at her full in the face, Monica grew embarrassed. Her eyes began to wander. Eventually, they came to rest on the broach at the clasp of Felix’s cloak.

She recalled Lana talking about it earlier, and she’d been right—up close, it was an extremely elaborate accessory. The stone in the middle had been cut to perfection, and it sparkled beautifully in the room’s light.

Gemstones were the most frequently used materials in magical items. The amount of mana they could impart depended on the type of gem, its size, its opacity, and how well it was cut.

I can’t see the base of the gem, she thought, but they must have used the very latest methods when cutting it… Usually, a gemsmith prioritizes making the stone’s color look as deep as they can, so they leave a lot of stone at the base. But this one has a thin, shallow base so it can reflect light better… You could only do that if the original gemstone’s color was very deep…

“I think a green dress would suit you,” said Felix. “A deep green, but not too dark. And I bet it would look splendid with some pretty flower embroidery on the skirt. Do you have a favorite flower?”

Fifty-eight facets—you could probably use it for reflective barriers. Reflective barriers aren’t typically very strong, and it’s said to be difficult to reflect heavier attack magecraft. But if you used this polyhedron, you could increase both the barrier’s strength and its reflectivity…

“If you like roses, I think autumn roses would suit you well. Spring roses are wonderfully pale and gentle, but those in autumn have a deeper color, and I think they’d make you stand out even more.”

If you were to deploy a reflective barrier using this polyhedron, assuming…for the refractive index, then for a direct hit, the reflectivity would be…

As Monica lost herself thinking about the magical formulae of reflective barriers, the song ended. Felix stopped moving but kept his hands on Monica. Casey and Neil, who had been watching, gave her a round of applause.

“Monica, that was amazing!” exclaimed Casey. “Halfway through, it turned into an actual dance!”

“Yes, your movements became much more natural… That was the best you’ve done yet!”

At the moment, however, Monica was deaf to their praise—her mind was full of equations and magical formulae.

Felix offered her a smile as she stared at his broach and thought about magecraft. “You had a tendency to think too much and stiffen up, which threw off your timing,” he remarked. “With the help of a little light conversation, however, you were able to entrust yourself to your partner without overthinking things. Am I right?”

That was when Monica finally snapped out of her reverie, looked up, and glanced around as if she’d just woken from a dream. “Uh… Um… I, er… What was I…?”

“Monica, that was some incredible dancing!” cried Glenn, his eyes sparkling. He had started watching her part of the way through. Cyril nodded as well. “I would have expected no less from the prince.”

Still feeling floaty, as if she were dreaming, Monica put her hands to her cheeks. “I…I danced…properly?”

“Yes. You danced very well.” Felix nodded.

Monica’s cheeks went red as she broke out into a wide smile. “The cutting on your broach’s gemstone reflected the light so beautifully with its fifty-eight facets, I started thinking about its reflectivity and stopped thinking about extraneous things!”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Monica’s eyes, however, kept on glittering like an innocent child’s.

The ever-affable Neil opened his mouth hesitantly and said, “U-um… Doesn’t that mean you were only thinking about extraneous things…?”

“……Oh.” Monica’s smile froze. Slowly—very slowly—she turned to Felix.

He was technically smiling. But a dark light glistened deep within his azure eyes. “Then I suppose my conversation didn’t matter to you, either. Is that right, Lady Norton?” he asked.

“No! Um, I, er, what I mean is, w-well…,” stammered Monica, immediately starting to fiddle with her fingers. Eventually she balled her hands into fists, looked up, and shouted, “The reason I was able to dance so well was thanks to………your broach!”

“Can you at least say it was thanks to the prince?!” yelled Cyril, his words echoing all across the room.

And that was how Monica learned to submerge herself in her own thoughts to get through dance class.

When it came time for the retest, Glenn Dudley and Monica Norton both wore tense expressions. But once the music started, they took their first step with a smoothness that would have made anyone doubt their earlier performances.

Glenn’s lead was a little forceful, but it was clear he was putting in the required thought for his partner. And while Monica would immediately trip up before, she was now doing the steps properly and letting herself be led, though some of the awkwardness lingered.

Eventually, the song ended, and Lindsey’s face broke into a smile. The thought of saying her next words filled her with the joy and pride of a teacher.

“Congratulations. You’ve both passed.”

Glenn and Monica—and their friends, who had been furtively watching from the hallway—let out cries of joy.

Lindsey smiled at her students and said, “You’ve done an excellent job putting in the work.”

Serendia Academy was furnished with multiple tearooms. One of them was a private room, for use only by a select few, and inside it, a tea party was currently underway. Its hostess was Bridget Greyham, student council secretary and noble daughter of Viscount Shaleberry.

And she had invited only one person: the student council president and second prince of the Kingdom of Ridill, Felix Arc Ridill.

“Lady Norton passed her retest in ballroom dancing,” said Felix casually as he put his lips to the black tea already prepared for him.

Bridget returned her cup to its saucer and unfolded her fan. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

“Didn’t you want her to fail?”

“Why would I be happy about a student council member failing a class?” she responded. That was the correct way to answer the question. Bridget, one of the three most beautiful girls in the academy, let a thin smile creep across her pretty features as she looked searchingly at Felix. “Speaking of dancing… It brings me back. Do you remember how we used to practice together when we were younger?”

“Yes, of course,” answered Felix. “I have fond memories of it.”

“You were such a poor dancer… You stepped on my feet so many times. And you would apologize constantly. Remember?” Keeping her mouth hidden behind her fan, she moved her eyes to look at Felix—almost as though she was gauging his reaction.

He gave her a troubled smile, as if ashamed of his past blunders. “Suddenly bringing up old times… What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, but I indulge in memories of the past just as much as the next person.”

A tea party with a gorgeous prince and a noble young lady—it was a beautiful sight, like an illustration in a court novel. But although they seemed to be enjoying the conversation, a quiet battle was raging just beneath the surface.

Bridget Greyham was an intelligent girl. She was certainly not someone Felix could dazzle with his looks and position and bend to his will.

“You’ve always been quite clever,” he commented.

“My father doesn’t like that about me. He says he prefers women to be a little duller and more amusing… Do you think that way as well?”

“I like smart women.”

“Oh? I’m honored.” Bridget gave a feigned, high-pitched laugh, then offered a smile that anyone else would have fallen in love with immediately. But her amber eyes were chilly. She was too clever to accept insincere flattery.

Felix raised his teacup to his lips again as Bridget, appearing to have just remembered something, said, “Oh yes. I wonder—is Accountant Monica Norton included in your list of smart women?”

“What do you think? I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Bridget lowered her long eyelashes and thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “From my perspective, the girl has the makings of a scholar by nature. If given the necessary equipment, she would boggle the mind. But she is a poor public speaker, and she is not skilled at negotiating. If you thought so highly of her, sir, weren’t there options available to you other than appointing her to the student council?”

She really is a smart woman, he thought. At times like these, Bridget was able to understand matters from a logical viewpoint rather than an emotional one—an objective viewpoint rather than a subjective one. She was making an objective claim that Monica was a poor fit for the student council.

She was correct. It was difficult to argue that Monica was suited to be a council member. Her skill at handling clerical work aside, her ability to discuss and negotiate was extremely poor.

The corners of Felix’s lips turned up slightly, his blue eyes slowly narrowing. “When you look at her, do you ever think, Why can’t she do a simple thing like this…?”

Bridget neither confirmed nor denied it, instead remaining silent, trying to gauge the other’s true intentions.

Felix gave her a warm smile. “It’s like looking at my past self, isn’t it?”

But even his handsome face and friendly grin weren’t enough to penetrate Bridget’s iron-clad smile. He returned his cup to its saucer and stood. It was still early, but their rendezvous had gone on long enough. “Thank you very much for the tea. And for the pleasant time in your company, Lady Bridget.”

“And you as well… This was very worthwhile. Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

Smiling, Bridget was every inch a flawless, perfect noble.

As he walked away from the tearoom, Felix breathed a quick sigh… As usual, I can’t let my guard down around her, he thought. Perhaps I gave her a little too much this time. Thinking it over, he happened to glance at the window—and what he saw outside made his eyes go wide. “That’s…”

At the rear of the school, Glenn was hard at work. By the looks of it, he was gathering up large stones. What was he doing that for?

Felix had covertly kept up his guard around the transfer student. People had been talking about a passing young mage defeating the earth dragon that had attacked the town of Craeme. That mage’s features matched Glenn’s, so he’d probably been the one to do it.

And he’d transferred in now of all times—a mage powerful enough to slay an earth dragon. If his master was who Felix thought he was, that had to mean something.

Either he’s here to watch me or kill me…, he thought to himself.

He’d also been wary of any connection between him and Monica, since they’d transferred in at the same time. The reason he’d offered to help them with dance class was so he could observe them together.

He’d watched the two of them the entire time he’d been helping, but he hadn’t been able to catch anything. For the moment, it seemed they had no connection.

I should probably continue to be cautious of Dudley in the future…

As he thought this over, watching Glenn through the window, Monica, Neil, Lana, and Casey all walked up. Apparently, the entire ballroom dancing practice group was helping Glenn out.

First, they put an iron grating over the stones Glenn had assembled. Then they set a fire below it and quickly started lining up strips of meat on top.

…Oh, wow.

Felix had been planning to go back to the dorm, but he changed course and quickly headed to the rear garden.

After safely passing the dance retest, Glenn had suggested they have a little celebration party. “I’ll get us everything we need—the venue and the food!” he’d exclaimed, pounding his chest. Everyone else had thought it would be a tea party, but instead, he secured a place outside, behind the school, and prepared a large quantity of meat. What came next was obvious.

“Can’t have a celebration without meat!” said Glenn, adeptly beginning to grill it.

Casey helped him, her own movements swift and sharp. “You’re right about that,” she said, nodding happily. “Meat’s a must.” She cut it into slices so skillfully, it was hard to believe she was really a noble lady.

Surprisingly, Lana was enthusiastic about the prospect, too—or at least interested in it. As the daughter of a wealthy merchant, she watched with curiosity as Glenn and Casey got to work.

This was against school rules, but since Lana wasn’t about to stop either of them, Monica and Neil—the two council members most likely to go along with the group—could only remain silent and watch over them.

“It seems like it’s actually pretty easy to make this stuff,” said Lana, looking at Glenn. “By the way, where did you get all this meat?”

Glenn grinned proudly. “Heh-heh-heh. I happen to come from a butcher’s family. I just took a little hop back home…er, rather…I had a carriage send me there and back!”

Apparently, he’d used his flight magecraft to fly over and gotten the meat from his family. His master had forbidden him from using magecraft without supervision, but it seemed he’d been flitting about wherever and whenever he pleased.

Confused, Lana asked, “You’re from a butcher’s family? Did you enroll here to become someone’s attendant, then?”

Anyone who could pay the enrollment fee could get into Serendia Academy, even if they weren’t noble. Recently it had become a kind of status symbol to bring servants along for advanced education, so it wasn’t unusual.

But Glenn shook his head. “I’m a mage’s apprentice. And my master suddenly told me, ‘Go to Serendia Academy.’ Paid for the whole thing, too.”

Casey, who was lining up skewers of meat on the grill, looked at him, eyes wide. “The enrollment fee for this academy is insanely expensive. Your master must really be something—I’d imagine they’re an illustrious figure.”

“Ill-ustrious? I don’t know what that means, really, but my master’s super strong—I’ve almost never seen anyone stronger.”

“When you say strong…… do you mean someone like the Artillery Mage, or maybe the Silent Witch, who slew that black dragon?”

Sweating bullets at Casey’s suggestions, Monica remained as silent as her moniker.

Glenn flipped over the meat skewers. “It’s neither of them! Oh, the meat’s looking good. Yep! Here you go!”

Moving the firewood a bit to adjust the level of flame, he handed out the meat skewers to everyone. Taking one for himself, he raised it high into the air.

“All right, now that everyone has one…,” he said, “time to celebrate Monica and me passing the retest! …Let’s eat!” He opened his mouth wide and chomped down onto the meat.

Monica followed suit, hesitantly putting the meat in her mouth. The perfectly browned mutton had a bit of an odor to it, but the added spices made it easy to eat. She’d never liked mutton that much, but even she had to admit this was delicious.

“I, um… I’m not great with mutton, but…this is, um, easy to eat.”

Hearing Monica’s soft-spoken praise, Glenn sniffed proudly. “Heh-heh. I used a secret spice passed down in the Dudley family. We sell it in stores, too, so give it a look when you can!” he added, making sure to slide in an advertisement, true to his merchant lineage.

Neil, his tone serious, added, “It’s been getting easier to obtain seasonings lately, huh? Though it still depends on what region you’re in.”

Lana stopped eating the meat on her skewer and chimed in. “I think it’s partly due to the town of Southerndole recently expanding their ports… But my father says the Empire is still unsettled after the change in leadership and that some merchants are waiting to see how things play out. They’re staying in a port in this kingdom close to the Empire.”

Neil nodded in agreement. “Depending on the Empire’s new political measures, there’s a chance the merchants will all flood in at once. I’ve heard the current emperor is putting a lot of progressive policies into effect.”

As she listened, Monica idly thought to herself. Now that the Empire had removed its ban on healing magecraft, many mages were crossing the border. Merchants might decide to follow suit any day now. And where people gathered, business prospered. The Empire would likely see even more development going forward.

On the other hand, the Kingdom of Ridill was having to deal with confrontations between the center nobles, who were desperate to maintain the status quo, and nobles in the country. In addition, nobles were divided among three factions—one backing each of the princes.

But I…don’t have any interest in political conflict.

As one of the Seven Sages, Monica had been granted the right to have audiences with the ruling monarch in order to speak with them directly. But political power and the state of the kingdom were not on her list of concerns.

I wonder what Mr. Louis wants from me…?

If he’d wanted to make sure the second prince was safe, there were any number of more suitable candidates for the job. And yet he’d purposely sent the inept and clumsy Monica to do it. Why?

He’s not… He didn’t want to send me here because I’m useless, because I would cause the second prince’s downfall, did he…?

That she couldn’t outright deny the possibility was what made Louis so terrifying. As she thought about that smooth, wicked smile on her colleague’s handsome features, the fat from the meat dribbled all over her hand.

Flustered, she wiped it off with a handkerchief as Lana smiled and said, “You should hold the skewer horizontally when you eat. That way, the fat won’t drip on you.”

“O-okay…” Monica tilted her skewer horizontally.

Casey, who had been watching them, impolitely licked the fat off her fingers and said, “You know how to eat skewers, huh, Lana? I figured you’d be unfamiliar with things like this. You’re not some rural noble like I am, right?”

“My homeland holds a lot of festivals, so we’re all pretty used to food you can eat while walking around. Though most people raised in the capital aren’t like that, I suppose.” Lana looked at her skewer intently. “There are roasted chestnut stalls and fruit juice stalls in the capital, but I don’t see much in the way of skewers. I bet a skewer shop would be pretty popular…but there are a lot of restrictions on starting businesses and opening outdoor stalls in the capital, so…”

Lana was not only knowledgeable about the latest trends—she was surprisingly mercantile in her thoughts. These were the kind of unexpected facets of a person you never got to see unless the right opportunity arose.

Casey was the caring sort, kind of like an older sister. She was always looking out for those around her, and she was very considerate. Glenn was a little too happy-go-lucky, but he had surprisingly keen powers of observation. Neil was easily caught up in the moment, but he was a sincere, kind person at heart.

Back when she’d attended Minerva’s Mage Training Institution, Monica had refused all contact with others and never tried to learn about them. She’d thought there was no reason to do so, that it was pointless. At the time, she’d never imagined there would come a day when she’d be out secretly cooking meat behind the school building with a group of people.

…The meat is…good. Monica’s face broke into a smile. She bit into the meat, a happy feeling in her heart.

Finishing at a pace more than twice that of Monica’s, Glenn joyfully started cooking some more.

Neil’s eyes went wide. “Glenn, you’re still eating?!”

“That was nowhere near enough food!”

“But I’m already full!” exclaimed Neil, holding his stomach.

Glenn snorted. “You’ve gotta eat more, or you’re not gonna grow big and strong!”

The light faded from Neil’s eyes. “…You just indirectly called me a squirt, didn’t you? …You did, didn’t you?”

While Glenn was taller than other boys his age, Neil was quite a bit shorter than average. Neil was normally cordial, but now he closed in on Glenn, his expression blank. Glenn shrank back.

That’s a new side for Neil as well. Monica was watching their exchange with a smile, when she heard a voice.

“Hey, looks like everyone’s having fun.”

The group immediately stopped talking and turned toward the voice’s source.

And there he was, unaccompanied: student council president Felix Arc Ridill.

Lana’s and Casey’s eyes shot open. Neil went white and said, “President! This is, um, you see…”

As Neil flailed, Felix lowered his eyebrows and heaved a disappointed sigh. “I swear… Two student council members, breaking school rules in broad daylight?”

One man, however, bravely brandished his skewer and objected—Glenn Dudley, the butcher’s son. “There’s no rule against cooking meat in the schoolyard!”

“Any flames outside of designated areas require a request to be made of the student council.”

“Then since you’re here, there’s no problem! President! Please permit this!” Glenn always did as he liked, but this was a whole new level. It was actually rather refreshing.

Felix kept the rest of the group in his sight as they looked on in suspense. Then, folding his arms, he set his stare on Glenn. “You need to submit the paperwork the day before.”

“Ah, darn. I see. Oh! Would you like one, President?” asked Glenn, smoothly offering a skewer to Felix.

He has no sense of fear! thought Monica as she and the others gasped.

Felix stared at it for a moment…then said, “Sure, I’ll have one,” and took the skewer.

Quietly, Neil practically shrieked, “He’s eating it?!”

Felix deftly bit into the meat on the skewer. He didn’t hold it vertically or get the fat all over his hand like Monica had.

“It’s quite good,” said the prince. “Very well-seasoned.” As everyone else looked on in sheer bafflement, he gave them a wink. “Now I’m an accomplice. You’ll keep quiet about my little rule violation, won’t you?”

Nobody was about to go against the word of a royal. Everyone nodded.

Glenn laughed gleefully. “There’s plenty more where that came from! You helped us out with dancing, so consider it thanks! Oh, right—should we call the vice president?”

Neil vehemently shook his head. “L-let’s not!”

Monica agreed. If the sensitive, high-strung Cyril Ashley was present, he would surely fly into a rage and start yelling about how inexcusable this was. Or maybe he’d see Felix eating the meat skewer and doubt his own eyesight.

Either way, Monica was having fun, and she didn’t want it to end. She secretly cast an unchanted spell to alter the wind’s direction, keeping the smoke from the cooking meat away from the school building.

Once the secret party behind the school was over, Monica returned to her attic room in the girls’ dormitory to find a black cat and a maid sitting on the floor and reading together.

“Welcome back, Silent Witch.”

The maid closed her book, then glided upward and back down again into a bow. This was Rynzbelfeid, nicknamed Ryn, the spirit contracted to the Barrier Mage Louis Miller. As a high wind spirit, she was particularly adept at flight magecraft, and so she’d been acting as Monica’s point of contact during her undercover mission.

This seemed too early for her regular report, however. Did her presence mean an emergency had arisen? Monica tried to hide the tension washing over her.

Nero, who had been reading a book next to Ryn, pushed its cover closed with his front paw and looked up at Monica. “Looks like she brought you a present.”

“…A present?” repeated Monica.

“Yes,” said Ryn. “I’ve come bearing a gift from my master addressed to the Silent Witch. Please accept it.” She picked up a paper-wrapped object she’d placed near the wall and…

“Dururururu…” With a wonderfully advanced roll of the tongue, she made a strange noise. Was she trying to mimic a drum roll?

Monica was confused, but Ryn continued, her expression impassive. “Pa-pa-pa-paan.”

First a drumroll, then a trumpet fanfare. Had a small child done it, it would have been adorable. But a beautiful maid producing those sounds in a monotone was just surreal.

“…Um, er, Miss Ryn? What…what was that?”

“I read in a book that humans play instruments in situations like these. However, owing to my lack of any such ability, I reproduced their sounds orally.”

She was talking about ceremonies held in castles. Monica had never heard of anyone playing instruments during a regular conversation. And it was a good thing she hadn’t brought any along—if she’d done a drumroll and blown into a trumpet, it would hardly have gone unnoticed.

“In any case, here you are.” Ryn held out a paper-wrapped package tied with a red ribbon.

“Uh, right… Thanks…” Very hesitantly, Monica undid the ribbon. Inside, she found a navy-blue dress and a white coat.

The dress wasn’t the extravagant sort you’d wear to a ball but one for everyday use. Both it and the coat had a simple, unaffected design, but Monica was thankful for that.

“Wow! …Um, is it really okay for me to…to have this?”

“It is. Lord Louis said to tell you: ‘I suppose you can tell her it’s a reward for capturing Victor Thornlee. You have to know when to punish and when to praise, after all. Ha-ha-ha.’”

Was she supposed to say that last part, too? Monica managed a dry smile, then held the new dress and coat up to her body in turn. They were the perfect size.

Maybe I’ll wear this next time I go shopping with Lana in town, she thought eagerly, bowing to Ryn. “Um, I… Thank you. I’ll write a letter of thanks to Mr. Louis, so please wait a moment.”

After hanging up the dress and coat, she took a seat at her desk and got out her writing implements.

She wanted to properly express her thanks for the dress Louis had given her. Ever since coming to the academy, Monica had made a small goal of getting to the point where she could say thank you.

As Monica struggled to write her thoughts, Ryn came up right next to her and said, “According to your previous report, it seems you experienced an incursion by some individuals pretending to be part of a trading company.”

“Y-yes…”

“In light of this, Lord Louis would like you to submit a security plan for the day of the school festival with your next regularly scheduled report.”

“A…a security plan…?”

He could ask, but Monica knew absolutely nothing when it came to security. She would have trouble with even a simple plan.

Ryn’s light-green eyes studied the girl and her troubled expression closely. “For example,” she suggested, “if you were an assassin, how would you go about killing the second prince?”

“If I were an assassin…? Hmm…” Monica folded her arms and thought about the spirit’s question.

Nero took the chance to jump onto the desk and say pridefully, “If Monica were an assassin, she wouldn’t need to go creeping around at all. She could just blast a super-high-powered attack spell at the academy from far away and it would be over in an instant.”

“…Nero, that’s not how assassinations work,” said Monica, taken aback by her familiar’s over-the-top suggestion. She then repeated what Louis had told her before. “Look, this school has a defensive barrier around it. You can’t attack it from the outside.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm. Mr. Louis has a barrier up around basically every important facility in the kingdom, so we shouldn’t have to worry about an attack from outside.”

Louis Miller was known as the Barrier Mage. As his name implied, barrier-related techniques were his area of expertise. The scale, strength, precision, and duration of his barriers far outstripped what anyone else could manage. This academy, too, boasted a large barrier into which Louis had put his time and work.

“…I think it’s probably a wide-range, large-scale defensive barrier with an added detection formula. Normally it’s inactive, but when it senses an attack from outside, it immediately goes up. It’s probably hidden somewhere secret, where it will be really hard to find.”

But the barrier had weaknesses—while it could deal with attacks from outside, it couldn’t respond to ones carried out inside. Once in the academy, a criminal could also rewrite the barrier’s formula and render it useless.

Sensing Monica’s concern, Ryn said flatly, “That will not be a problem. Nobody could rewrite the barrier in the first place.”

“Wh-why…not?”

“At a previous time, Lord Louis was reclining in his chair and said the following.” Here, the spirit sat up straight and replicated Louis’s speech in her own monotone voice. “‘My defensive barriers have deadly traps installed. If someone wants to rewrite one, they’re welcome to go ahead and try. Ha-ha-ha.’”

As Ryn impassively reproduced these words, Nero narrowed his eyes and groaned. “…What is that guy doing, packing a barrier with deadly traps?”

“Apparently, there was an incident at another building wherein an intruder attempted to rewrite the magic formula. Thus, Lord Louis decided to embed a trap that would activate when someone tries to rewrite it.”

That’s a very Louis-like thing to do, thought Monica with a strained smile.

Nero looked up at her, astonished. “A killer barrier? Never heard of such a thing. Man, the Seven Sages really are a big bunch of crazies, eh?”

“……Haaah.”

Monica had no response to that.