Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 3 - Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

To Engrave My Name in History

The day after the intruder incident at the chess competition, a man visited Serendia Academy. He had blond hair speckled with gray, and he wore elegant, refined clothing. A little past sixty, he was nonetheless slender with perfect posture, and his well-defined features made it clear he’d been extremely attractive in his prime.

The headmaster was currently meeting with him in the reception room, and suffering from the worst stomachache of his life.

The guest’s name was Darius Nightray. He was the maternal grandfather of Second Prince Felix Arc Ridill and the noble with the greatest authority in the kingdom—Duke Clockford himself.

At the chess competition the day before, someone impersonating a teacher from another school had infiltrated Serendia Academy. It was a total mess, considering they’d only recently allowed robbers pretending to be with the Abbott Company onto school grounds. Criticism of the academy’s security was unavoidable.

The headmaster trembled, stealing a glance at Duke Clockford’s face. The duke was older than him, and while some white had begun to creep into his light-blond hair, time had not dulled or exhausted him. The headmaster had heard his good looks as a young man had driven many a noblewoman wild, and his facial features were sharp and symmetrical, like an aged blade that had lost none of its sharpness to rust.

He was stern, and he was cold. Every noble in the Kingdom of Ridill knew of Duke Clockford’s shrewdness.

“I’ve heard the reports.”

The moment the duke’s mouth opened, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier. The intimidation was like a weight pressing down on the headmaster’s shoulders. His balled fists shook in his lap.

“Regarding the school festival…,” said the duke.

“The prince’s safety is our top priority, of course,” explained the headmaster quickly. “We will cancel—!”

“No. Carry it out,” commanded the duke, interrupting.

The headmaster wasn’t about to argue with him. One did not question the duke. Many had been run out of the country simply for voicing doubt about his orders.

The headmaster stifled any internal misgivings and answered immediately. “We will strengthen security and carry it out. You have my word!”

“Very well.”

As the duke nodded, there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” came the response—not from the headmaster but from the duke, clearly demonstrating which one of them was in control.

“Please excuse me.” Entering the room was the duke’s grandson—the kingdom’s second prince, Felix Arc Ridill.

His face was mild, as always, with just a hint of apology as he bowed to the duke.

“I am happy to see you again, Grandfather,” said the prince sincerely. “And I’m terribly sorry for causing you concern.”

His grandfather responded in a quiet voice. “Are you hurt?”

“No. It’s very reassuring that you’ve come to check on me. Thank you—I know you must be quite busy.”

When Felix was done politely expressing his gratitude, Duke Clockford nodded back to him without a word.

The exchange had been brief, but the headmaster privately took solace in the knowledge that the duke had clearly come all this way out of love for his grandson. The headmaster had been sweating after receiving the order to go ahead with the school festival, but the duke must have his reasons.

Oh, I know, he thought. Duke Clockford must have really been looking forward to seeing his precious grandson in the festival! That’s why he ordered me to go ahead with it!

As the headmaster convinced himself of this, Duke Clockford glanced back over to him. “I’d like to talk with Felix for a while.”

The duke was asking him to leave, and the headmaster immediately stood to excuse himself from the room. He may have been the headmaster of the academy, but when Duke Clockford told you to get lost, you did as you were told.

Once the headmaster was gone, Duke Clockford’s face warped ever so slightly—into something unpleasant and hateful.

“A disgrace,” he spat lowly.

Felix’s expression didn’t waver, but it was no longer the gentle one from earlier—his blue eyes like glowing beads of glass now looked upon the duke without any emotion whatsoever, like a puppet.

“You’ve been neglectful, not cautious enough of outsiders. That neglect directly led to this incident.”

“If I might have a word, Serendia Academy has long maintained a close relationship with both Minerva’s and the University. I believe being overly cautious would equate to rude—”

“Do not talk back to me,” interrupted the duke, ice in his voice. “Lords have been invited to the school festival. It will succeed. And you will show that rabble the worth of Felix Arc Ridill—and the might and authority of Duke Clockford.”

The inheritance decision was upon them. In the near future, one of the king’s three sons would be named his heir. Felix needed to use this festival to show what he was made of.

Understanding the duke’s implications, Felix quietly bent at the waist. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, he answered.

“It will be done, Your Excellency.”

The day after the chess competition would have normally been a day off, but the student council assembled anyway. The meeting would probably include an announcement about how things were to be handled following the incident with the intruder.

Sitting snugly in her seat in the council room, Monica glanced around. Only Felix, the president, was missing. Apparently, the prince was currently in talks with teachers regarding the advisability of holding the school festival. The other council members were waiting for the results.

Lady Claudia said the festival would go forward…, thought Monica, though it didn’t make much sense to her. Under normal circumstances, such an event would almost certainly be canceled or postponed.

She and the other student council members all waited in their chairs, lost in thought. A little less than an hour passed before the door finally opened.

“Hey, everyone,” Felix called out as he entered the room. “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

“Sir!” Cyril rose from his chair with a clatter.

Elliott, resting his chin in his hand, grinned wryly and cast a sidelong glance at the prince. “Either way,” he said. “We’re going to hold it like nothing happened, right?”

“You catch on quickly,” responded Felix with his usual calm demeanor before taking his own seat and looking around the room. “First of all, it seems the intruder at yesterday’s chess competition has not been very cooperative with our investigation. It will likely take some time before we can wring all the information we want out of him—his employer, his objective, and the location of the real Mr. Pitman.”

There was one thing in particular Monica had been curious about when it came to the intruder: How had the man seemed so much like the real Eugene Pitman that none of the students from Minerva’s, including Bernie, realized immediately that he was a fake? He hadn’t put anything on his face or stuck any cotton into his oral cavity to adjust his silhouette or bone structure.

Was he just eerily similar to the real Eugene Pitman to begin with? wondered Monica, perplexed. That seems awfully convenient…

“The school festival will proceed as planned,” Felix continued. “However, we’ll need to take a look at our security detail and strengthen it. I’ll handle the review of our plans. I want the rest of you to continue preparing for the event as you have been.”

“Sir, I will help with the review,” offered Cyril immediately.

The prince shook his head. “This is our last day off before the festival. Our workload is going to ramp up tomorrow, so I want you all to get a good rest today.” He looked at Cyril and added with a smile, “That’s an order.”

Cyril looked anguished to receive such an order from his esteemed prince. To him, not being able to help Felix must have been much more painful than taking on more work.

He frowned and gritted his teeth. “…Understood, sir,” he said eventually. “I’ll rest for today so that I can dedicate my full efforts to aiding you tomorrow.” Then he groaned, trembling. “As for all your work from tomorrow onward, I will—”

“There’s no need to take things so seriously,” interrupted Felix. “My work has been going smoothly.”

“Sir, if anything happens, anything, please don’t hesitate to call on me. I swear that I shall—”

“I’ll be fine. We’ve increased security starting today, after all.”

Once Felix managed to soothe Cyril into reluctant agreement, they were all dismissed for the day.

As the rest of them left the student council room, Cyril took an awful long time cleaning up the papers on his desk, fidgeting and glancing at Felix as he did so. Monica needed to tell him something, so she waited for him outside in the hallway. She wanted to return the jacket he’d lent her during the chess competition.

“Thank you for lending me your jacket yesterday, thank you for lending me your jacket yesterday, thank you for…”

As she quietly muttered words of gratitude to herself, practicing to make sure she wouldn’t fumble them, a little bird fluttered in from the window. The creature, covered in vivid golden feathers, came to a stop on Monica’s shoulder. Monica, however, was so preoccupied with practicing her thanks that she didn’t even notice.

“Silent Witch?”

“Hyah-what?!” yelped Monica at the sudden voice in her ear. She looked over at the bird on her shoulder—Ryn. If Ryn was risking talking to her inside the school building, it must have been urgent. Monica made sure nobody was around, then asked, “Is this about yesterday?”

“No. I’ve come on other business today.”

There’s other business? thought Monica, caught off guard.

“  would like to invite the Silent Witch to her estate,” Ryn said in a whisper.

“…Huh?”

Monica’s eyes widened at the unexpected name. Just then, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Cyril had probably given up and was about to leave.

“I’ll come get you later,” said Ryn before quickly flying back out the window.

Not a moment after, the door opened, and Cyril came out. When he noticed Monica there, he looked surprised. He probably hadn’t expected her to wait in the hallway like this.

“Accountant Norton?”

“H-hello!”

After her short talk with Ryn, she’d completely forgotten the phrase she’d just been practicing. She held out the paper-wrapped object she’d been clutching to her chest and mumbled, “Um, Lord Cyril, er… I… Thank you for, er, your jacket yephterday!”

All her practice had been for naught—she’d fumbled the whole thing. Flushing up to her ears, she began to tremble.

“Oh, right,” said Cyril, as though he was only now recalling giving her the jacket. He took it from her.

Thank goodness. I managed to thank him and return it… Even though I choked. Monica privately sighed in relief, then shyly muttered, “It, um, seems like I’m always borrowing your jacket, Lord Cyril.”

“…? Are you?”

“Um, like the day we were overseeing the supplies…”

After Casey’s assassination attempt, Monica had cried a lot, then fallen asleep. When she’d woken up, she’d found Cyril’s jacket lying on top of her. Thinking about it made her feel pangs of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

“Accountant Norton?”

He’s being so considerate to me because he doesn’t know the truth…

Cyril must have thought of her as a victim simply caught up in the previous day’s incident, just as he had that day with the lumber. That was why he was worried about her. He always said stern things, but he was a kind person who looked out for others, even if he didn’t show it. And every time he was kind to her, a little more guilt welled up in her heart for lying about her true identity.

Is there anything I can do to repay him?

She couldn’t tell him who she was. The moment she did, the curtains would close on her pretend school life. Instead of doing something for him as the Silent Witch, she wanted to do something for him as Accountant Norton of the student council.

What can I do for him as a council member…? she wondered. Then she straightened up and met his gaze.

“Um, Lord C-Cyril!” she stammered. “I’ll, um, do my very best, so…”

She’d do her very best—how vague and unreliable those words must have sounded. But it didn’t matter. She wanted desperately to convey her intentions to him—to tell him what she could do as Accountant Norton.

“Let’s do everything we can to, um, make the school festival a success. Okay?”

Somehow, she managed to get the whole thing out. But right after she finished, embarrassment overcame her, and she hunched back over and began to play with her fingers.

She heard a short exhalation from above—a laugh, perhaps. Hunched over now, she glanced up through her bangs and saw Cyril grinning slightly.

“Naturally,” he responded in a very haughty, Cyril-like way. It made her strangely happy.

Same old Cyril…, she thought, an awkward smile appearing on her face.

Then Cyril glanced back at the student council room, and his arrogant demeanor quickly disappeared, replaced by a look of anguish.

“And this is exactly when we should be putting forth every effort,” he continued. “So why am I not at his side right now? …Ugh. He’s working, and yet I must rest…?”

“Lord Cyril, tomorrow! We’ll help him tomorrow!”

This was the same old Cyril Monica knew—bold and strong-willed, and prone to going a little overboard when it came to Felix.

Hearing Cyril’s voice from the hallway, Felix chuckled and wet his pen in his inkwell.

“He doesn’t need to worry so much. This is practically a break compared to my other work.”

As if to answer him, his water spirit, Wildianu, in the form of a white lizard, crawled out from his uniform pocket.

When Wildianu attempted to use his tiny limbs to clamber over to the desk, the prince stopped writing and lifted the lizard up on his finger, depositing him at his destination.

“And once I finish this work, I’ll take a little break myself.”

Wildianu looked up at him with his small light-blue eyes. Lizards’ faces couldn’t express emotion the way human faces could, but somehow Felix got the sense the spirit was troubled.

“Master,” said Wildianu, “are you truly going?”

“This day only comes once a year,” replied Felix. “Mind the place while I’m gone, will you?”

“If you go out at night too often, it’s bound to draw the attention of Duke Clockford…”

“And that’s why I have you.”

Wildianu was a high water spirit. He wasn’t skilled at combat or detection, but he was very adept when it came to illusion magic. Whenever Felix snuck out, Wildianu would stay behind and use magic to fool everyone else into thinking the prince was still there.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate having a talented ally like you,” said Felix.

Wildianu looked up at him like he wanted to say something.

“There’s no need for concern,” said Felix serenely to his worrywart spirit. “I won’t forsake my most important objective.” He closed his pale eyelids, before slowly opening them again. A dark light of determination sparkled in his beautiful eyes, sky blue with just a hint of green in them. “Ten years ago, I swore to engrave the name Felix Arc Ridill in history. And I have never wavered in that oath, as I’m sure you know.” He smiled darkly.

Wildianu bowed his head. “It will be done, Master,” he replied.

“Monica! Oh, my sister! We simply must go to the festival in Corlapton!”

Intending to report on the events of the last several days, Monica had gone to visit Isabelle—her collaborator in her mission to guard the second prince. When she arrived, the younger girl had rung a little bell, a big smile on her face, and suggested they head out.

As she jingled the bell, Monica noticed she was wearing a hood with wildcat ears over one of her dresses.

Monica tilted her head in confusion at the odd outfit.

“Ummm, Corlapton…?” she ventured.

“A town to the east of the academy. Tonight, they are holding the Bell-Ringing Festival!”

With autumn’s arrival, harvest and fertility festivals were held all across the Kingdom to give thanks to the King of the Earth Spirits, Archraedo.

Every region had their own unique take on these festivals. Monica had heard once that in the eastern region, since it was believed that the creatures of the land were Archraedo’s servants, people would wear costumes or headdresses in their likeness. That must be why Isabelle was wearing the wildcat hood.

But this business about ringing bells was new to Monica. “What does ringing the bells represent?” she asked.

“The bells are meant to guide the souls of the dead.”

“The souls of the dead?” Monica looked dubious. That didn’t have anything to do with harvests or bumper crops.

Isabelle’s maid, Agatha, explained as she prepared their tea. “In the eastern lands, there is a legend that on festival nights, the watchman of the underworld gets so jealous of the humans’ fun, he leaves his post and sneaks into the festivities. As a result, the souls of the dead are able to cross through the gates of the underworld and wander back into this one.”

The underworld watchman was the King of the Earth Spirits’s underling. He was an eerie creature who possessed black claws and wings and wore a white mask over his face. He was depicted in quite terrifying ways in books for children, and adults would use him to warn their sons and daughters against bad behavior—if they didn’t behave, the underworld watchman would chase them down for all eternity.

But if he was willing to leave his post to secretly enjoy a festival, perhaps he wasn’t as inhuman as people believed.

“When the festival ends, the watchman and the souls of the dead return to the underworld. The bells are used to show them the way back to where they belong.”

Isabelle nodded firmly at Agatha’s explanation and held up the bell in her hand. “That is why animal costumes and bells are essential for autumn festivals in the east!”

She went on to tell Monica that while she was the daughter of a count, every year on this day she would dress up and sneak into the festival with Agatha.

Monica listened to Isabelle’s and Agatha’s cheerful explanations, her eyes downcast. She felt awful about it, since Isabelle seemed so excited, but she had other plans she couldn’t get out of.

“Um, Lady Isabelle, I—”

“You know, I wanted so badly to go to the chess competition and cheer you on from the very front row! As the villainess in your story, however, it was simply not possible. But if we’re at an event outside the academy, there will be no problems! In fact, since everyone dresses up for the Bell-Ringing Festival, it’s perfect for having some fun in secret!”

Oh no, thought Monica, feeling even worse. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “I’m really sorry, Lady Isabelle. I have something, um, to do after this…”

Isabelle stopped moving entirely. She remained frozen for a few seconds, then quietly removed her wildcat hood. Her face flushed, as though she was embarrassed over having been so excited, and she murmured, “No, I apologize for getting ahead of myself. You have such an important mission, and yet I’m acting like this…”

Tiny tears began to form in Isabelle’s big eyes.

She’s helped me out more times than I can count, and I can’t even do this for her! thought Monica. Feeling pangs of guilt in her heart, she squeezed out a few more words. “Um, if I ever, well, end up going to Kerbeck…I want to go to a festival with you. You’ve helped me so much, so, um, I want to do everything I can to repay you!”

Once she was finished speaking, she paled. Was she bothering Isabelle with her suggestion? Was she being rude somehow?

But her fears were unfounded.

“Repayment? Oh, I could never! We owe you so much, my sister. I wouldn’t dream of asking anything of you in return! Still…” Isabelle’s head came back up. Her eyes were glittering. “When festival season comes again, please, by all means, visit Kerbeck! I will do everything in my power, absolutely everything, to make sure you have a good time! Oh, and we should wear matching costumes! We can make you a cute staff with a bell… Oh! And there’s this traditional baked sweet, and it’s said that if you split it with a friend and eat it, you’ll be friends forever!”

As Isabelle excitedly listed off the possibilities, Agatha watched her with the face of a kind older sister. “That sounds delightful, my lady.”

Monica returned to her room and took off her uniform, then changed into the navy dress Louis had given her. Considering who she was about to see, her Sage attire might have been more fitting. But she hadn’t needed her robes or staff for her mission, so she’d left them back in her mountain cabin.

The dress Louis had sent wasn’t meant for balls, only minor outings, but it was the most respectable thing she had in terms of personal clothing. To finish the outfit, Monica put on her white coat, also from Louis, then twirled around in place.

“Does it look good on me, Nero?”

“Yeah, you bet it does. Anyway, where are you going?”

“Well—”

Just then, they heard a knocking at the window. Monica went over and opened it, letting in a little golden bird.

The bird landed on the ground and took the form of a beautiful blond-haired maid.

Rynzbelfeid, contracted spirit of the Barrier Mage Louis Miller, picked up the hem of her skirt and curtsied.

“I’ve come to fetch you,” she said. “I shall now guide you to the estate of the Starseer Witch.”

Monica had been invited to visit another of the Seven Sages—the Starseer Witch Mary Harvey, the most talented prophet in the Kingdom of Ridill.