Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 3 - Chapter SS

Secret Episode - In the North

Upon transferring carriages and arriving near the Velange Mountains in the north of Ridill, Louis used flight magecraft to lift into the air. His destination lay in these mountains.

Had Ryn been present, he could have flown the whole way. Unfortunately, he was currently lending her out to the Silent Witch, so he’d been forced to take carriages instead.

Louis was especially skilled at controlling flight magecraft, but the spell still guzzled mana, so he couldn’t use it to move over long distances. He’d decided it was best to save it for the mountain roads too rough for carriages.

As he straddled his staff and flew through the air, his braided hair fluttering in the wind, he looked down at the scenery sprawling below him. Snowfall mottled the Velange Mountains. Back in the capital, they had only the cold wind to deal with; here, though, the snow had already begun to fall.

Maintaining his flight spell, Louis erected a barrier to keep out the cold. Keeping both a flight spell and a barrier up at the same time cost a lot of mana, but Louis didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t particularly sensitive to the cold, but he still hated it.

Eventually, he came within sight of an old, run-down monastery on a leveled-off area in the mountains. That was his destination: Richawood Monastery. Most of the people who ended up here, so far from the capital, were women with backstories. Some were abused by their husbands, others driven out during political schemes, and yet others had circumstances they couldn’t tell anyone—Louis was here for one of the latter.

In front of the monastery was a single young sister gripping a shovel, digging at the snow. Louis hesitated over whether to land a short distance away and walk up to her. Not many people could use flight magecraft, and some would be very shocked by it.

After mulling it over for a few moments, he decided it was too much trouble and simply landed in front of her. He put one hand on the staff he was using as a seat, then quietly touched down on the earth, toes first. As he did, snowy dust sprang up around him.

The sister shoveling snow said, “Oh,” not seeming particularly surprised. When Louis saw the girl’s face, he realized why.

“I was just thinking what a plucky sister you were, to not be shocked by flight magecraft, when I noticed it was you.”

“Well, this was far less intimidating than when you spun at full-speed straight toward the ground, at least,” said the sister, sticking the shovel vertically into the snow.

This was Count Bright’s daughter, Casey Grove.

The abbess, an elderly sister, ordered Casey to bring Louis to the reception room, then retreated into the chapel, evidently not wanting to have anything to do with him. To these women, living so far from the secular world, any outsiders coming to visit—especially men like Louis—were generally unwanted.

Casey seemed to be no exception, and after showing him to the reception room, she got right down to business without even putting on any tea.

“What do you want from me?” she asked curtly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you basically everything I can.”

Louis responded with a smile. He was brimming with the confidence of an adult speaking to a child. “There’s something new I’d like to ask you about.”

“Nobody else from my home played a part in the assassination attempt. It was only my father and me.”

“I know that’s what you believe, at least.”

The implication caused Casey’s lips to twitch. Louis brought out something covered in cloth, then set it on the table and gently unwrapped it. Inside were fragments of red gemstones, big and small.

“Do you know what these are?” he asked her.

“…Pieces of the Spiralflame I used, right?”

Instead of giving her a yes, Louis simply smiled before continuing. “Your father insists he purchased this from a traveling merchant. But I believe someone from the Kingdom of Landor gave it to him.”

“Are you saying people from Landor incited him?”

“Do you know how much a Spiralflame costs? Forgive my rudeness, but they’re not something Count Bright—who is far from wealthy—could afford.”

There were plenty of other, cheaper methods to stage an assassination. Why had the count picked a Spiralflame? It seemed safe to assume someone had given it to him and encouraged him to act.

Casey must have considered that possibility, if only vaguely. She bit her lip, her expression stern. She was desperately trying to conceal how disturbed she was, so as not to make any remarks that might further disadvantage her father.

It was commendable. Louis watched her, then picked up one of the red shards and held it up to the light. “The gemstone used in this Spiralflame is an extremely pure ruby. I had an expert appraise it, and they told me it was without a doubt something mined from Glocken.”

“Glocken?”

“You don’t know of it? It’s a mine in the southeastern part of the Empire. It doesn’t produce very much, but they do mine rubies of an ideal quality to use in magic items.” He paused. “Of course, the Empire exports almost none of what they pull from the mine, so it’s extremely difficult to buy one on the market.”

Louis returned the red shard to the table with a click. The sound echoed awfully loudly in the serene abbey.

Behind his monocle, he narrowed his eyes, setting his gaze on Casey. “The Spiralflame that Count Bright gave to you was made in the Empire. Do you know what that means?”

Casey immediately paled. She was clever. Those few words had been all she’d needed to arrive at a very disturbing possibility.

If they assumed someone from Landor had given Count Bright the Spiralflame, then the next question would be where that person had gotten their hands on a Spiralflame from the Empire. This gave rise to a single hypothesis.

“It’s possible the Kingdom of Landor and the Empire are in a secret alliance.”

The report of a spy infiltrating the chess competition and using body-manipulation magecraft had only reinforced Louis’s concerns. Any magecraft that directly interfered with the human body, such as altering it, strengthening it, or healing wounds, was forbidden in the Kingdom of Ridill due to the risk of severe mana poisoning.

There was just one nation in the world that allowed such magecraft: Ridill’s next-door neighbor, the Schwargald Empire.

The infiltrator had cast spells that only those from the Empire used. The Spiralflame employed in the previous assassination attempt had been made in the Empire. There was, then, a fairly high probability these two incidents were linked.

If Louis’s guess was correct, Ridill could end up in a war with the Empire and the Kingdom of Landor.

Casey seemed keenly aware of that, too. She balled her hands into fists on her lap, looked down, and said, “I’ve personally never seen anyone who appeared to be from the Empire entering or leaving my home. The only ones coming or going were Landorian nobles even I knew the names of.”

“Then you’ve never witnessed your father sending letters to the Empire?”

“No.”

“I see.”

Louis would have been happy to get testimony strengthening the imperial link, but it seemed things wouldn’t be so easy.

If the Empire and Landor were connected, it was clear the Empire, with its incomparable national power, would be the dominating force. It was possible the lowest Landorian nobles weren’t even aware of their own link to the Empire. There were still many what-ifs to consider, but it seemed they couldn’t afford to let their guard down.

“It doesn’t appear like you have any more information for me. And, seeing as you haven’t even offered any tea, I shall be on my way immediately.”

As Louis rose from his chair, Casey stopped him.

“Wait.”

He cast her an uninterested glance. He was busy, and he hated wasting time. Especially since this girl had no more to offer him.

“Is Monica doing well?”

And, not surprisingly, she broached a topic Louis didn’t care about at all. “How pointless. You’d have been better off asking about the weather. She apparently fought off yet another assassin recently, but she’s doing quite well.”

Casey sucked in her breath. “To be honest, I still can’t believe it,” she said. “Monica, one of the Seven Sages… She seemed like such a normal girl.”

“A normal girl? The Silent Witch?”

Louis couldn’t help but laugh. Even after seeing Monica use unchanted magecraft, Casey didn’t understand her. He sat himself back down and offered her a scornful smile—both beautiful and cruel.

“Did you hear of the incident six months ago involving the Black Dragon of Worgan?” he asked.

“Yes. It appeared in the Worgan Mountains in Kerbeck, and the Silent Witch—well, Monica drove it off, right?”

Kerbeck was close to Casey’s homeland, so the situation must have affected her as well. Black dragons struck despair into the hearts of the people. The blackflames they spewed were flames of anathema, capable of incinerating even the most powerful defensive barriers. Killing one wouldn’t have been easy even for Louis, who was skilled in dragon slaying.

“Well, I’m the one who had to drag her there to kill the thing,” he explained. “She was wailing and crying about how scared she was, snot flying everywhere.”

Casey looked at him, appalled at the ready confession of his cruelty. “That’s normal,” she said. “Anyone would be terrified of a black dragon.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Yes, even I was somewhat fearful at the prospect. But what do you think Monica Everett was truly afraid of?”

Louis looked down, reflecting on the day he’d brought Monica to slay the dragon—and the words she’d spoken to him through her sobs and whimpers.

“‘I’m scared of the Dragon Knights. I don’t want to be around so many people I don’t know,’ she said… That girl wasn’t afraid of the black dragon in the slightest. No, what she—one of the Seven Sages—feared most were the Dragon Knights who had come along for the hunt. She was more afraid of the people.”

Upon meeting up with the Dragon Knights dispatched to hunt the Black Dragon of Worgan, Monica had looked like she was about to vomit. In fact, she apparently had, several times, in private.

She’d been more than just pale—she’d looked like a ghost. Her round eyes had been sunken, frantically darting this way and that, though they were hidden behind the hood pulled low over her face. Whenever she spotted a person, a high-pitched whimper would squeeze out from her throat, and she’d begin to wander around in search of somewhere to hide.

She’d always been scared of other people, but it was apparently much worse when it came to tall men with loud voices—the exact type of people comprising the Dragon Knights. She’d probably never felt more afraid in her life.

Ultimately, while they were waiting to commence the mission, she’d curled up behind a tree and begun muttering numbers to herself.

Louis had been privately concerned she might faint when she had to attend the war council. Fortunately, though, she stayed still through it—like an inanimate object. It was excellent work for Monica and far better than her shrieking or passing out.

Louis had gone to talk to her after the meeting ended. “My fellow Sage, regarding the council…”

Monica didn’t exactly care for Louis, but he was the only person there she knew, so she could at least have a conversation with him. He understood that and took sharing information with her as his personal duty.

“I’ve drawn up a list of Dragon Knights who will be accompanying you into the Worgan Mountains. I’d like you to memorize it, and—”

“I don’t…need it,” said Monica, looking at the list he was holding out with a vacant, impassive look on her face.

Rather irked at her monotone, Louis offered her a wry grin, trying to ease her anxieties. “Oh? Have you already memorized them, despite all that flailing around?”

“…Yes. It was…easy.”

Louis would never forget the look on Monica’s face as she spoke. It was like she’d tried to smile but failed, constructing an awful, twisted grin instead. Her cheeks were drawn back in terror—and yet something in her round, youthful eyes was entranced.

“It’s easy to remember people if you think of them as numbers. And they, um, become less scary, too…”

Louis was at a total loss for words.

Monica wasn’t even seeing people right now. She was only seeing numbers. Did she see him as numbers, too?

“Please give a message to eight nine one eight seven two seven one five eight…or, um, the commander.” He couldn’t believe it as she called the leader of the Dragon Knights by a string of numbers before declaring, “I will enter the Worgan Mountains alone. I don’t…need any support.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It will…be over quickly.”

True to her word, the Silent Witch Monica Everett entered the Worgan Mountains on her own and killed the black dragon. She even shot down every one of the pterodragons swarming around their former master, ending the operation in but a few moments.

“Reducing people to numbers keeps them from scaring her. Have you ever heard such an absurd idea?”

As Louis told his story, smiling sardonically, Casey pursed her lips and fell silent. He looked at her with pity.

“The girl is terrified of other people from the bottom of her heart,” he said. “That gives her the ability to be as merciless as required. She’s a far more twisted, unfeeling witch than you give her credit for.”

And that was why he’d chosen her to be his coconspirator in guarding the second prince.

“You’d do well not to expect any actual emotion or feelings from her,” he concluded with a sneer.

Casey violently stood up. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her. She then stomped out of the room before quickly returning with a teacup and a small wrapped object in her hands.

She set the teacup down roughly in front of Louis, then thrust the paper wrapping at him. “I wasn’t sure whether to give this to her or not, but after hearing all that, I’ve made up my mind. Give this to Monica. You don’t need to tell her it’s from me.”

After asking to look inside, Louis unwrapped the paper slightly. Then his eyes went wide.

Casey glared at him sharply. She must have been unable to suppress her rage at Louis’s words.

It would be so much easier if she simply hated the Silent Witch. But the girl was foolish and soft at heart.

Louis sighed to himself, then tucked the item away in his pocket. Finally, he took an elegant sip of tea from the cup and said, “I suppose I can do you a little favor in exchange for the tea. You wouldn’t happen to have any sugar or jam, would you?”