Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 4 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

My Prince

With only four days left until Serendia Academy’s school festival, the members of its student council were even busier than usual. Monica was no exception.

Normally, she was in the council room knee-deep in clerical work. That day, however, she headed out to negotiate. Apparently, the magic history research club was unhappy with their budget and the location of their festival exhibit. Location aside, Monica was the accountant, so she was directly involved in the budget.

For that reason, they’d sent her to hear the club out in person. I wonder if I’ll be able to negotiate properly, she thought, growing nervous… They don’t seem to be happy with the budget. What if they yell at me…?

Any tasks that forced her to interact with others were pure agony for the shy, introverted Monica. And these people were already unhappy. Monica nearly collapsed out of fear, but she took a deep breath and headed for the club’s room, her legs still trembling.

I’m pretty sure, um, that I’ve grown since my first day here at Serendia Academy…

Monica Norton of the student council was only a persona Monica was using temporarily. Her true identity was that of Monica Everett, the Silent Witch and one of the Seven Sages—the Kingdom of Ridill’s most talented magecraft practitioners. Until recently, she’d been living in a cabin in the mountains isolated from other people. But ever since taking on a secret mission to protect the kingdom’s second prince, Felix Arc Ridill, she’d been spending a lot more time around her fellow humans.

Just the other day, she’d made her societal debut as a delinquent and wandered the nighttime streets of a town in the midst of a lively festival. She still felt strange whenever she thought about that night.

The day after their evening adventure, Felix showed up to the student council room looking like the perfect prince, just as he always did. Ike with his mischievous smile, whose eyes had sparkled at books about magecraft, was no longer there.

That made Monica a little lonely. It was like she’d lost a friend, never to see him again. It’s so strange, she thought. I’m his bodyguard, so I see him every day, and yet…

As she was thinking this through, she quickly arrived at the clubroom. Standing before the door, she balled her hands into fists and went over what she was supposed to do.

The magic history research club is unhappy with their exhibit’s location and their budget. My first task is to hear them out. If I don’t think I can handle it myself, I’ll go back and explain what’s happening. That’s what Lord Cyril said to do, at least…

She was pretty sure the club members would be hostile toward her as a student council member. To prevent that hostility from swallowing her whole, she took care to keep her back straight and knocked on the door.

“Hello, hello! Sorry for the wait— Oh? Hmm? You’re…”

A slightly plump boy with black hair appeared in the doorway. He wore round glasses. This was the club president, Conrad Askam—the one Monica would be negotiating with.

“I’m, um, Monica Norton, accountant for the student council. I’ve come here to, um, hear what you have to say.” She managed an unusually spirited, clear introduction, then waited for the boy to respond.

Would he glare at her? Would he yell in anger? No—Conrad’s response defied all Monica’s expectations.

In a calm voice, he said, “Please wait a moment,” then shut the door again.

Monica stood outside the clubroom, mouth agape. She heard Conrad’s voice from inside, and it sounded enthusiastic. “Everyone! One and all! A student council member has deigned to visit us!”

She then heard a group of male students cheer in response.

“Bring out our best cushion!” shouted Conrad. “Fetch snacks and tea! We need to do this right! Perfect hospitality!”

“I shall prepare them forthwith, President!”

“Always remember to smile! Only your best manners for our lady guest!”

“We understand perfectly, President!”

As Monica, dazed, stared at the door, it soon popped back open. Conrad appeared, his round face now sporting an ingratiating smile as he invited Monica inside.

“I’m terribly sorry for the wait,” he said. “Come in, please, come in, Lady Norton!”

“O-okay…”

The room’s interior gave off a cramped impression—likely due to all the bookshelves and storage units packed into an already smallish room. The left-hand wall upon entering had two rows of three bookshelves holding a variety of folders and papers. These alone were quite oppressive.

The other side didn’t have anything set against the wall, but documents had been pinned all across it instead, covering it up. Two male students stood near it. Including its president, Conrad, the club consisted of just three people.

But there was a fourth person in the room. They reclined languidly on a guest sofa near the back—a certain noble lady with straight black hair and lapis lazuli eyes exuding a mystical beauty.

“Lady…Lady Claudia?” Monica stammered.

Claudia Ashley, daughter of Marquess Highown, shifted her gaze. When she saw Monica, her beautiful face twisted into an expression of despair. Somehow, it felt like the humidity in the room had risen.

“…Why aren’t you Neil?” she asked.

“Um, ummm…,” responded Monica, confused. From what she knew, Claudia didn’t belong to this club—or any kind of committee, for that matter. So why was she here?

Conrad showed Monica over to the sofa, still smiling. “Please take a seat, Lady Norton. We are incredibly honored to have an esteemed member of the student council visit despite your busy schedule. Yes, indeed.”

“Um, yes, w-well…,” stammered Monica, sitting down next to Claudia and nervously broaching the subject at hand. “I heard you’re, um, unhappy with the budget and exhibit location.”

Conrad sat down across from them and nodded deeply. “Yes, it’s true. You are quite right about that. As you know, we at the humble magic history research club are slated to present our findings at the school festival.”

He paused, placing his entwined fingers against his soft-looking chin. His round eyes popped open wide behind his glasses. “But not only have we been disallowed from using Exhibit Room One, we are expected to present in this very clubroom—a room that is far from the entrance, difficult to find, and whose appearance does us no favors!”

It was as Conrad said—this room was much, much farther back than Exhibit Room One, where the majority of the festivalgoers would be gathered. Unfortunately, they couldn’t appropriate any empty classrooms nearby, either.

“Ummm,” began Monica hesitantly, “some of the hallways and classrooms will be closed for security reasons, so…it’s a little, well, late to change the exhibition location…” Despite visibly shrinking away, she’d managed to form a reasonable response in her desperation.

Conrad’s smile looked very gentle and mild-mannered as he replied in a coaxing voice, “Indeed. So we have been hard at work looking for another place for our exhibit. And at last, we’ve found one—to the side of the front entrance!”

He’s right, thought Monica. There’s a little open space just outside the front entrance, to the side. But research presentations were always done inside.

“Well,” she began, “I don’t think Serendia Academy has any equipment for outdoor exhibits…”

“You’re quite right,” said Conrad. “That is why we’d like additional funding in order to set ourselves up outside. We believe there’s just enough time for it.”

He chuckled. It sounded like he was forcing bursts of air out of his throat. Then he looked over at Claudia.

“In addition, we would like to ask Lady Claudia Ashley to present our research,” he said.

“Y-you would?” replied Monica.

He chuckled again. “She is a descendant of the Lineage of the Wise. People call her the Walking Library. I’m sure it would be quite a simple matter for her to deliver our presentation to the masses. In addition, if we have one of the school’s three most beautiful girls staffing an outdoor exhibition, we will be sure to attract interest!”

Monica nervously turned to look at Claudia. Her expression screamed, I hate all of this. The sentiment was practically palpable in the air around her.

“Um, Lady Claudia,” Monica began. “Do you… Do you intend to agree?”

Claudia slowly straightened up in her seat, leaned against Monica, and whispered lowly into her ear, “Of course not.”

Her voice sent chills down Monica’s spine. The words carried an unusual, quiet anger.

“I hate people who treat me like a public library,” she continued. “And using me to attract guests? They must be joking.”

“Th-then why…?” Monica trailed off. Claudia hated wasting time; Monica would have assumed she’d immediately refuse and leave. But then why was she still in the room?

As if sensing the question on her mind, Claudia smirked evilly. “If I were unjustly held captive, a member of the student council would come to my rescue, yes? I was pretending to be a damsel in distress, waiting for my lovely prince to save me. Unfortunately, instead of Neil, you came. Why is that?”

“I… I’m sorry,” replied Monica weakly, despite thinking the whole thing very unfair. She felt bad for Claudia, who had expected her fiancé, Neil, but Monica had been entrusted with this matter, not him.

I have to solve this problem myself and free Claudia, she thought, turning back to look at Conrad. “Um, well,” she said. “The priority for exhibition locations and budget, is, uh, determined by the club’s accomplishments and number of people. So, ummm…”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Conrad. “I understand well what you’re saying, Lady Norton. We only have three members and no noteworthy accomplishments. The field of magic history research itself is not very large to begin with.”

He lowered his eyes sadly, causing a pang of guilt in Monica’s heart. Magic history was only a part of fundamental magic studies, so the field offered few opportunities for research presentations. Because of that, it was difficult for anyone involved to achieve much. Monica felt even worse about it because she’d witnessed that reality personally on several occasions during her time at Minerva’s. I wonder if there’s any way I can help them, she thought.

Conrad glanced over at the two students waiting by the wall. “And so we would like to have you, a member of the student council, personally review our presentation.”

“Um, me?” asked Monica.

“Yes! If you would, please have a look at this and consider reevaluating our club’s standing!”

The two students brought over some rolled-up documents and quickly unfurled them. Conrad then proceeded to eloquently explain their research.

Vice President Cyril Ashley was scanning through a pile of papers in the student council room when he glanced up at the wall clock and frowned. Monica had left to visit the magic history research club ages ago.

While the girl was incredibly skilled when it came to clerical work, she was a poor negotiator. She’d freeze up simply introducing herself to someone she’d never spoken to before. Would she really be able to find out what the club was after?

I thought I told her only to listen to them, not force herself to solve their problems. The club’s president wasn’t the type to rely on intimidation, but that didn’t ease Cyril’s worry about Monica and her shyness.

He imagined her growing so nervous that she frothed at the mouth and fainted. Finally, he put his feather pen in its stand and stood up. “Sir, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Right,” said Felix, laughing a little as he nodded. He probably knew exactly what Cyril was up to.

Feeling awkward, the vice president hurried out of the council room a little faster than usual and made his way to the clubroom.

He knocked on their door and was soon greeted by the club’s president, Conrad, who wore a wide smile on his face.

“Well! Vice President Ashley!” he said, laughing breathily. “Welcome to the magic history research club.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” replied Cyril. “Accountant Norton was supposed to pay you a visit…” He trailed off, peering past Conrad and seeing the two girls sitting on the sofa in the back.

One of them was Monica. The other was Cyril’s younger stepsister, Claudia. Monica I can understand, but what’s Claudia doing here? he wondered, baffled.

Claudia leaned back against the sofa cushion and stared up at the ceiling, looking like the world was about to end. “…Why is it you this time?”

“What are you on about?” he said, irritated. He had a good reason to be here; she had no right to complain.

Claudia snickered and smiled darkly. “I am a captive damsel, waiting for my prince to come rescue me,” she explained. “Do you…understand?”

That wasn’t the smile of a princess waiting to be saved. It was the smile of an evil witch unjustly occupying the clubroom.

As Cyril stood there in confusion, Monica suddenly looked up and ran over to him. “Lord Cyril!” she exclaimed.

She seemed neither overwhelmed nor afraid. In fact, he might say she was energetic. Almost overly so. Cyril sighed in relief as Monica held up the papers in her hand and began to rattle off an extended explanation.

“Lord Cyril, please look at this!” she pleaded. “Th-these papers! They’re amazing! It’s a very straightforward summary of the role of mages and magical items in the kingdom’s history! And their numbers are extremely concrete, and the way they use graphs is superb…!”

The club president gave another one of his breathy laughs. “No, no, it’s hardly that impressive,” he said before proudly chuckling some more at Monica’s side.

All expression vanished from Cyril’s face and a chilly air began to flow out from him. Monica, however, didn’t notice.

“And also!” she went on. “It doesn’t only touch on modern and ancient magical items—it even talks about shamanic tools! There is so little literature discussing cursed tools in the context of historical magical items that—”

“Accountant Norton,” Cyril interrupted coldly. She froze. “What about the issue at hand? The exhibit location and the budget?”

Gripping the documents tightly in her hands, Monica allowed her gaze to drift awkwardly. “Um, well, u-ummm…,” she stammered. Claudia simply offered a hollow smile.

As if to brush away this difficult atmosphere, Conrad adopted an even more cheerful tone and addressed Cyril. “Come, come! Please take a seat over here.”

“Your attempts to appease me are meaningless,” Cyril replied. “We will not acknowledge a change in your exhibit’s location or additional funding.”

“Now, now!” continued Conrad. “I’d like you to hear me out for a moment regarding our club’s principles. You see, one of our missions is to learn about the royal family of Ridill through the lens of magic history, thereby illuminating its greatness. And so…”

“And so you can see that, by employing the Roseburgs—an elite magecraft family—and the Albrights—the kingdom’s only lineage of shamans—the royal family of Ridill has maintained a delicate power balance between local nobles and the Mages Guild.”

Monica and Cyril nodded along with Conrad’s explanation, their expressions serious. The club’s report appeared extremely well put together, even to Monica, one of the Seven Sages. And above all, Conrad’s skill at disseminating its contents was incredible. Even when he was explaining a familiar topic, there was always something new to discover.

They’d allowed themselves to become absorbed—and so neither of them noticed Felix standing in the doorway, his arms folded and a look of exasperation on his face.

“Monica I can understand,” he murmured, sounding mildly annoyed, “but Cyril, too?”

With the exact same motion, Monica and Cyril whipped around.

“Eek! Pri-Pripri-Pri-Pripri—”

“P-Prince! What are you doing here?!”

Felix smiled and narrowed his eyes. “The two of you are quite in sync.”

They both paled. They’d been so engrossed in Conrad’s explanation that they hadn’t noticed it was almost time to return to their dorms.

As they panicked, Claudia, who sat next to Cyril, looked up at the ceiling and laughed as if she was about to perish. “Oh, how can this be happening?” she murmured. “At last, a real prince has arrived… But when will mine come? How long must I wait?”

Felix shot Claudia a glance, then returned his gaze to Monica and Cyril. “Now, would you two care to explain why you’ve been wasting valuable time before the school festival?” he asked.

“Um, I, um—”

“Don’t bother, Accountant Norton,” Cyril interrupted. “I’ll do the explaining.”

Cyril fixed his posture and related the club’s situation to Felix. The prince looked at the documents hung on the wall as he listened.

When the vice president eventually finished his explanation, Conrad seized the chance to close in on Felix. “Come, come, President! Take a seat right over here… Heh.”

“No need,” the prince replied. “I’ve already looked over everything you’ve written. I don’t require anything else.” Apparently, he’d already taken in all the exhibit documents on the wall. Maintaining his regal smile, he glanced between Monica and Cyril. “More importantly, may I ask what you two thought after seeing these papers?”

“Um, they’re very well summarized…,” Monica offered. “And, um, I’d like many more people to get the chance to see them.”

“They helped me deepen my understanding of the royal family,” Cyril explained. “As Serendia Academy counts royalty among its students, I believe it is quite suitable subject matter for an exhibit.”

Felix nodded at each of their remarks, then turned to face Conrad again. “President Conrad Askam. Unfortunately, I cannot permit a change to your exhibit location or any additional funding.”

Conrad’s face visibly fell, and Monica’s and Cyril’s shoulders drooped.

The passion of the club’s president and its two other members was more than evident in the materials they’d prepared for the festival. They’d probably spent a lot of time and effort working on them. Nevertheless, it was the student council managing the event, and they had to take prior achievements into consideration.

But the data are all so good, thought Monica. It hurt her that such wonderful research would be hidden away out of sight. She hung her head and bit her lip.

Meanwhile, Felix addressed everyone in the room. “But it is the student council’s duty to support the students in their endeavors. So instead, I shall put you in contact with a person of great talent—one from our kingdom’s famous Lineage of the Mediators.”

Claudia, who had been lying against the back of the sofa like a corpse, straightened up and smiled.

“I understand the situation, sir,” said Neil. He spoke in a clear tone, having been summoned by Felix.

Neil Clay Maywood was the officer of general affairs of the student council and rather short for his age. When he turned to face Conrad, who was on the tall side, their height difference made Neil look like a child next to an adult.

This didn’t stop Neil from addressing the other boy, however. “First, regarding your exhibit location. It cannot be changed. However, I don’t see any issue with placing part of your research material in the free exhibit corner of Exhibit Room One—”

“Well, now, please wait a moment,” Conrad interrupted, flustered. “There is only so much we can fit there…”

“Yes.” Neil nodded, turning to the papers on the wall. “You’d only be able to display one of these in the free exhibit corner. You will need to condense your report and carefully select which information to use.”

There were eight pieces of paper in the clubroom, each as large as the door. Condensing it all into a single sheet would be a monumental task.

Conrad still looked unhappy, so Neil smiled gently and made a suggestion. “Why don’t you place a summary in the free exhibit corner, along with directions to come here for more details? We can hang a map in the hallway as well so that potential visitors don’t lose their way.” This proposal kept the clubroom as the main exhibit location but offered to guide visitors there—and Neil wasn’t done. “Club President, your target audience is mainly those in the field of magecraft, correct?”

“W-well, yes, of course,” replied Conrad.

“Then when such visitors register, we can hand them a small card directing them here. I believe that would be easiest. It can contain a simple map and an explanation of the nature of your research.”

Conrad considered this. They may not have been able to change locations, but as long as people could see their research, the issue should be resolved.

But the club president still seemed unhappy about something. “As you can see,” he persisted, “this clubroom doesn’t have much wall space. It’s not really geared toward hosting an exhibit…”

“Then why not move those shelves?” suggested Neil immediately, looking at the two rows of bookshelves along the left-hand wall. “The ones against the wall are bolted down, but you could turn the second row around, push it into the first, and cover it all with a cloth. You could then use the cloth to hang more research materials and data, making it much easier to see everything. This way, the only extra material you’ll need is some cloth.”

The club members, including Conrad, all nodded, seeing what Neil was getting at.

Neil smiled and continued. “The theater club should have large pieces of cloth they don’t need. It’ll take several people to move the shelves, but you can ask their stagehands for help.”

Proposing new ways of getting things done wasn’t the only thing Neil excelled at—he had a clear sense of what was required and how to break up the work. That was why Conrad and the rest of the club accepted his suggestions so easily.

He’d pacified the club president without making any conciliations. It was a brilliant display of skill. Monica, at least, knew she’d never be able to manage something like that.

With the discussion mostly concluded, Monica nervously turned to Neil. “Lord Maywood, that was amazing,” she said. “Um, how do you…negotiate so well?”

Neil’s eyebrows lowered into a smile at Monica’s honest praise. It was his usual, somewhat unsteady expression. “I learned from my father,” he explained. “According to him, the most important thing in negotiations is to find out what’s not negotiable for the other party.”

For the magic history research club, that was having their data seen by as many people as possible. So Neil had suggested showing people the way here, without changing their actual exhibit location. He’d made it look easy, but Monica could tell it was an impressive feat.

As she continued to look at him in admiration, his face went a little red in embarrassment, and he looked down. “Um, I mean, compared to my father, I still have a long way to go.”

Come to think of it, thought Monica, Felix said Neil was from the “Lineage of the Mediators.” Could it be his family is really famous? Though Monica held the rank of count of magic—equivalent to a count—because of her status as one of the Seven Sages, she wasn’t familiar with the circumstances of the kingdom’s nobles, political or otherwise.

Felix cut in, as if in answer to her question. “House Maywood is well-known for producing talented mediators and arbitrators over generations. Neil’s father, Baron Maywood, is considered one of the best, even among the aristocracy.”

“That’s right…,” murmured Claudia. She was suddenly behind Monica; she must have stood up and walked over. “House Ashley is known as the Lineage of the Wise and House Maywood as the Lineage of the Mediators. The two of us together are invincible. Don’t you agree?”

“You haven’t even done anything,” muttered Cyril, scowling.

Claudia countered with a beautiful smile. “Oh?” she replied. “And who was it who found himself so easily swept up, just like Monica here?”

Cyril groaned, then shut his mouth and looked away. Monica wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a hint of depression in his profile… Is Lord Cyril all right? she wondered idly. Was he bothered by how easily Conrad had swayed him? If so, then Monica was just as guilty—in fact, she’d been the first to fall.

Before she could ask him, though, Conrad rubbed his hands together and drew up to Claudia, giving another breathy laugh. “By the way, regarding the matter of having Lady Claudia present our research—”

“I firmly, resolutely, and unequivocally refuse,” she said.

Conrad was taken aback. “Oh, but onstage, your beauty would draw the attention of all, and your intellect is a national treasure,” he lamented with a mournful expression. “If only you were there, a legitimate successor of the Lineage of the Wise, just think how many guests we would attract…”

Suddenly Conrad looked up, as if he’d just remembered something. For some reason, he turned to Cyril, but the student council vice president didn’t say anything; he simply looked down.

Conrad immediately straightened up and offered Cyril a deep bow. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “In any case, I would like to accept Officer Maywood’s suggestions and continue preparing for the exhibit.”

It seemed the issue had been resolved. As Monica breathed a sigh of relief, Claudia slithered up to Neil and coiled her arms around him.

“Is my fiancé not a wonder to behold?”

As she rubbed his soft, wavy hair, the beautiful noble girl’s lips turned up in a wicked grin.

Claudia Ashley first met Neil Clay Maywood when she was twelve years old.

A descendant of the Lineage of the Wise, Claudia had filled every bit of her spare time with reading for as long as she could remember. The adults who saw her would all say she was a lover of books, but in truth, she didn’t particularly like reading. It wasn’t a hobby for her. When a person got hungry, they ate. When Claudia didn’t know something, she read a book about it. It was that simple.

And yet, those around her never looked things up for themselves. Whenever a matter arose, they would simply rely on someone from the Lineage of the Wise. The things they came to ask her about were all easily learned if they’d only open a book. But that didn’t matter to them; nobody wanted to do the research themselves. They only wanted answers. Every one of them thought of House Ashley as a family of walking libraries and nothing more.

In particular, she hated being thanked. Those who asked her for something and thanked her would keep coming back—one thing after another. So Claudia decided to adopt a gloomy, miserable demeanor to try and stave off any would-be inquirers. In fact, she was so gloomy, you’d think her family had just died.

The results were spectacular. Nobody wanted to get close to her anymore, and she finally had enough peace and quiet to simply be alone and read.

And Claudia was fully satisfied with that.

One day, a friend of her father’s—a man by the name of Baron Maywood—visited their estate with his son.

Baron Maywood was a plain man who looked quite young considering he was near Claudia’s father’s age. His clothing was neat and tidy but not extravagant. Though he was a baron, he must not have been too wealthy. Judging by his unsteady smile, he seemed like a friendly person, but not terribly clever.

“I’ve brought my son along today. Go on, Neil. Introduce yourself,” he said, urging the short boy to speak.

The boy, who had been waiting behind his father, smiled bashfully and said, “Hello. My name is Neil Clay Maywood. It’s an honor to meet you.”

He had very straightforward eyes. While he didn’t look much older than ten, he was apparently twelve, just like Claudia. It seemed youthfulness ran in the family.

After being shown to the parlor, Baron Maywood talked for a while with Claudia’s father, Marquess Highown. Their conversation had to do with mediating between the Mages Guild and the Noble Assembly. Apparently, the Mages Guild was advocating to lift the ban on healing magecraft.

Baron Maywood’s job would be to mediate a conference between the two parties. While the man was a noble himself, a mediator’s role was to avoid taking sides, to be fair and impartial, and to guide both parties to a solution everyone was happy with.

“Should we choose to permit healing magecraft, we may indeed save many lives,” said Baron Maywood. “That much is clear. However, I believe it’s still too soon to do so. Healing magecraft requires maturity and competition in the field of medicine as well as that of magecraft… But our kingdom’s medicinal technology can hardly be called mature.”

Marquess Highown nodded deeply. “I agree,” he said. “Some areas are still overrun with so-called doctors who do nothing but conform to superstitions to comfort their patients. Should we permit healing magecraft now, people may start to conflate the two.”

“I also think we need more testing on what harm mana can cause the human body…,” added the baron. “The data coming out of the Mages Guild is still insufficient.”

“You’re not wrong there. I think we need to raise and nurture a group of people skilled in both medicine and magecraft. One day, that can evolve into healing magecraft…but right now, we don’t even have a foundation for it. Instead, we should focus on cultivating that foundation.”

As Claudia quietly listened to the adults speak, Baron Maywood looked over to her. Then he lowered his eyebrows into a silly grin. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This must not be very interesting for you.”

“Oh, but it’s very interesting…,” said Claudia. “It’s easy to see there will be a conflict between the mages, who wish to lift the restriction on healing magecraft despite a lack of data, and the Noble Assembly, which is worried that combining medicine and magecraft will divert the benefits currently held by the Physicians Guild to the mages.”

Baron Maywood’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t seem particularly offended. In fact, he offered her a gentle smile. “You’re a clever young lady. And you’re right. Which is why we must be all the more careful in finding a solution.”

Neil, sitting next to Baron Maywood, gaped at her in surprise. She wondered how much the baby-faced boy understood. Actually, I doubt he understood any of it, she thought to herself.

In a low voice, her father issued a command. “Claudia, would you give Neil a tour of the estate?”

Her father probably didn’t think she was bored by the conversation, either; this must be a sign they were about to discuss things that were best not heard by children.

Claudia stood up without a word, and Neil, flustered, followed suit. “U-um, thank you!” he stammered.

“……”

Claudia turned her back to Neil, then opened the door to the hallway.

“Is there anything you want to see?”

“Um, I’d like to see the gardens!”

“…Oh.”

It was unusual for someone to visit House Ashley, proudly known for its incredible wealth of books, and ask to see the gardens instead. It’d be less trouble if he quietly read a book or something for a while, thought Claudia, bringing the boy to the gardens.

As they walked side by side, it struck her again just how young Neil looked. He was shorter than her, too. He certainly didn’t appear to be the same age.

Neil noticed her observant gaze, lowered his eyebrows, and smiled. It was a little unsteady, like his father’s.

“You’re really incredible, Lady Claudia,” he said. “That conversation was hard to follow, but you knew exactly what was at the root of it.”

“……”

“I hadn’t considered possible ulterior motives on the Noble Assembly’s part. I didn’t realize the Physicians Guild and the Noble Assembly had such a strong connection,” he continued. “My father brought me here as part of my studies, but I guess I still have a long way to go.”

Apparently, the boy had been listening to their fathers’ discussion.

Neil folded his arms and made a difficult face, groaning in thought. “I wonder if there was any data showing a clear link between the two. The current head of the Physicians Guild is… Wait, who is it…?”

He struggled with one question after another but never asked Claudia any of them.

She couldn’t help but comment. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Huh?”

“I’m from the Lineage of the Wise. I’m smart enough to answer most of your questions.” In truth, Claudia knew the answer to all the questions he’d mentioned.

But after thinking for a moment, Neil shook his head firmly. “No, I’ll look it all up when I get home. Father always says that when I don’t know something, I should look it up first. If I try my best and still don’t understand, then I can ask someone.”

“…I see.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry! You said you’d answer my questions, but I…”

Claudia had not said that. She’d only said she knew the answers. Still, this boy was obviously kindhearted and seemed to have interpreted her comment as an expression of goodwill.

“I’ll make sure to do tons of research when I get home,” he said. “If I still don’t understand after that, then you can tell me.”

Claudia didn’t say yes or no—she didn’t say anything. But it wasn’t out of a desire to tease the boy. She was simply unsure how to respond.

If she coldly refused to tell him, he’d probably never come to her again. For some reason, she didn’t want that to happen.

Claudia silently opened a door and headed straight down a well-maintained path. “These are the gardens,” she said.

“Wow!” exclaimed Neil. “Look at all the medicinal herbs!”

Both decorative flowers and medicinal herbs were planted in the estate’s gardens; it was about half and half. Claudia’s father had cultivated the latter to make use of the knowledge he’d gained from books. He felt that expertise of this sort had worth only when put into practice.

“Look at this, Lady Claudia,” said Neil. “This plant can help heal cuts!”

“You must realize I know that already,” she shot back.

“Oh. Right.” He scratched his cheek, seeming embarrassed, then squatted down and reached for a few weeds growing just outside the flower bed. “Then do you know what these are?”

“They’re weeds.”

If he wanted, she could give him their scientific name and what regions they generally grew in.

But as she was thinking about this, Neil plucked up one of the weeds and bent both ends. He then brought the folded blade of grass to his mouth and blew through it. It made a high-pitched whistling sound.

“If you take a blade of this grass and bend it right here, you can make it into a flute. Our shepherd does it all the time.”

“…I never knew that,” said Claudia softly.

Neil continued happily blowing his grass flute. The sound rippled clean and clear through the blue sky above.

As soon as Baron Maywood and his son left the estate, Claudia made a demand of her father.

“Father,” she said, “I am going to marry Neil.”

Marquess Highown didn’t act surprised or scold her for the sudden remark. Instead, he gazed right back at her. “Neil is their eldest son and heir, so he cannot be adopted into this family by marriage,” he explained. But just as she thought he was about to deny her, he fiddled with his beard and said softly, “But I could adopt a son to inherit the family.”

Claudia’s mother had passed away soon after her daughter’s birth, and her father had never remarried. At the moment, Claudia was Marquess Highown’s only direct heir.

Her father was right—if Marquess Highown adopted a son as heir to the family line, Claudia would be free to marry whomever she wanted. She was fairly certain, however, that her father would prefer to adopt her husband as his heir.

“…So you won’t refuse me?”

“I’m not surprised you like him,” he replied, mulling it over. There was a strangely personal note to his words. Apparently they both had a weakness for the Maywoods.

Her father said nothing about the Lineage of the Wise’s bloodline dying out. He knew that it wasn’t their blood that left knowledge behind but their memories.

Marquess Highown removed several documents from his desk and said, “Shall we make arrangements for an adoption, then? It can be a distant relation, so long as he desires to improve his station.”

This was how Claudia and Neil became engaged and how Cyril—thirteen at the time—was adopted to carry on the family line.

A day after the kerfuffle with the magic history research club, Claudia received an invitation to a tea party from someone surprising. The organizer was Cyril Ashley, Claudia’s adopted older brother.

Cyril wasn’t the type to throw tea parties, especially three days before the school festival, when he must have been extremely busy. And neither he nor Claudia was the type to indulge in a nice chat over tea. To sum it up, this was a secret meeting in the guise of a tea party.

As she sat in the seat prepared for her, Claudia pulled a sour face to make sure her brother knew this was the last thing she wanted to be doing. “Are you here to complain about yesterday?” she asked.

“No,” said Cyril flatly.

Claudia narrowed her eyes a little. “You’re strangely calm,” she noted. “I had assumed Conrad Askam’s words were still bothering you.”

The previous day, Conrad Askam—leader of the magic history research club—had referred to Claudia as “a legitimate successor of the Lineage of the Wise” and then shot an awkward look at Cyril. The discomfort was because he knew Cyril wasn’t Marquess Highown’s biological son and that his stores of knowledge were nothing compared to Claudia’s.

“I’ve no quarrel with Club President Askam, nor am I bothered by anything he said,” stated Cyril firmly. “I have only my own lack of motivation to blame for not being able to proudly claim membership in the Lineage of the Wise.”

He didn’t seem upset, at least. Why did he call me here, then? wondered Claudia, staring at him in silence.

Eventually, Cyril broached the issue, looking displeased. “I have something to ask of you.”

Claudia, though she kept it out of her expression, was actually surprised. Her foster brother had a lot of pride, and he almost never asked her for anything.

“This is unusual,” she remarked. “You always want others to depend on you, and yet now you’re depending on me… What is it you’d like me to do?”

“I want you to lend me a dress.”

Claudia went still and silent, her cup of black tea raised halfway to her lips. She held this pose for a solid ten seconds. Cyril’s own expression tensed as he met her utterly unblinking gaze.

After stoking her brother’s discomfort, Claudia spoke in a monotone. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in dressing up like a girl.”

Cyril’s eyebrows flew up in rage. He looked ready to yell, but he managed to restrain himself, quell his emotions, and say quietly, “Why are you assuming I’m going to wear it?”

“Oh, but don’t you know? A short while back, we had a secret vote here at the academy about who was best suited for the role of the school festival play’s heroine, Amelia.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Considering his reaction, he must not have heard. Claudia let the edges of her lips curl up slowly. “First place was Student Council Secretary Bridget Greyham.” She paused for effect. “And second place was you.”

“Wh… What?!”

Amelia, the first queen of Ridill, was an imperious, proud, and beautiful woman. Yes, a woman. And yet it seemed that her brother, voted second most suitable to play her, was completely unaware of how good he would look in a lady’s dress.

“Incidentally, I came in third,” she continued. “Placing near the top of such a silly vote brings me no joy, but seeing your name next to mine was so funny that I couldn’t stop laughing.” She laughed again now, beautiful and indiscreet.

Cyril stared at her, his jaw on the floor. She could tease him until the cows came home, but she didn’t want to drag out this useless conversation. Withdrawing her casual smile, she got back on track. “So why did you ask me to lend you a dress?”

“Well, it’s… actually for Accountant Norton.”

Accountant Norton. Monica Norton. Claudia wasn’t very surprised to hear this name. Whenever her prideful foster brother wanted something from her, it usually had to do with Monica. In fact, just a few weeks ago, when Monica was mixed up in the falling lumber incident, he’d asked Claudia to take her back to the girls’ dorm.

“Considering her circumstances and personality, it’s highly likely she doesn’t own a dress to wear to the post-festival ball,” he explained. “I was wondering if you could talk to her and lend her one, without…well, without mentioning my name.”

“……”

When Claudia maintained her silence, Cyril’s eyes began to drift, and he quickly started babbling. “I, er, I know it’s rude for a man to say anything about a woman’s clothes, but if Accountant Norton shows up to the ball in her school uniform, she’ll embarrass the student council—and by extension the prince. Since I’m his right-hand man, it’s only natural I would want to make the required arrangements in advance to protect his pride, so—”

“If it’s her dress you’re worried about, I hear she’s borrowing one from a classmate.”

At that, Cyril quickly shut his mouth. He was obviously relieved. So easy to read, she thought.

“I see. Then I suppose there’s no issue.”

“And a half second’s thought would tell you Monica wouldn’t fit into my dresses anyway,” she continued. “They’d look much better on you, in fact.”

“……”

Claudia was tall, and Monica was short. Their height difference was significant. The slender Cyril, while male, was much closer to Claudia’s size than the other girl.

Cyril was self-conscious about his skinny stature and pursed his lips in annoyance. He took a sugar cube from the pot and plopped it in his tea as a distraction, then hurriedly dropped in another and then another. He clearly wasn’t counting them.

“I had wondered,” said Claudia, “what would drive my prideful brother to request something of me… Hmm. I see.”

“Like I said, this is to ensure the school festival goes smoothly—”

“You must really want to see Monica in a dress.”

Cyril dropped the next sugar cube into his cup from higher up, causing droplets of black tea to splash onto the saucer. He very nearly dropped in his spoon, too, as he glared furiously at his sister.

“Student council members must set the standard for all other students,” he insisted. “I am only trying to make the necessary arrangements in advance…”

Claudia had no interest in her brother’s excuses, so she decided not to respond and simply took a few bites of biscuit. But as her thoughts turned toward the ball, she remembered something. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “About Neil…”

“What does Officer Maywood have to do with this?”

“Is there something wrong with me bringing up my fiancé? I’d like to know if he will be busy on the day of the festival again this year.”

“Of course he will.”

I thought as much, mused Claudia silently. Felix had the most work in the spotlight, since he had to greet guests and the like, but the busiest one behind the scenes was Neil, the officer of general affairs.

He’d be overseeing the equipment and facilities and arranging the catering, and he’d need to be on hand to help if any trouble arose. Plus, he’d be in close contact with all the club leaders, sharing any information with his fellow student council members. He had a lot to do.

Claudia lowered her long eyelashes and breathed a mournful sigh. “Then I suppose Neil won’t be preparing a floral decoration for me this year, either.”

“A floral decoration?” repeated Cyril. “Oh, that…”

At Serendia Academy, there was a tradition where boys gave girls floral accessories to wear during the school festival. When a boy did this, it meant he wanted the recipient’s first dance at the ball. And if the girl wore the adornment, it meant she accepted.

Such gifts were often designed with flowers or ribbons in a color matching the giver’s eyes or hair, so those in the know could easily guess who they were from. It wasn’t a compulsory event, however, and most of the students who participated were already engaged.

“I wasn’t able to dance with him at last year’s ball,” complained Claudia.

“Officer Maywood is very busy, after all.”

“He didn’t even give me a floral decoration.”

“So what? That’s just a silly game anyway.”

Claudia frowned scornfully at her brother. “…You clearly don’t understand the workings of a woman’s heart, dearest elder brother.”

Cyril, annoyed, fell silent.

Claudia murmured her next words almost without moving her lips. “Any woman who doesn’t receive one is treated as an unwanted leftover.”

“That’s just your imagination,” replied Cyril. “Men, at least, don’t look at women like that—”

“That’s right. Men may not, but women are always reading into things and judging one another. Underhanded, don’t you think?”

Cyril flinched away from the chill seeping into her voice. “But you… Didn’t you receive at least ten last year?”

Despite Claudia’s engagement to Neil, an endless number of people every year would insist that they were a better fit for her. Anyone who wanted talented, beautiful children would give an arm and a leg for someone with Claudia’s incredible appearance and intellect. That was how much attention the Lineage of the Wise received in this kingdom.

The moment the school festival began, those who considered themselves more suitable than the plain son of a baron would all crowd around her with floral decorations.

But what did that matter?

“You know I’d never take flowers from anyone but Neil,” said Claudia, shooting him a withering look. She didn’t appreciate him making her say aloud something they both knew so well.

Cyril took a sip from his tea to distract from the uncomfortable silence that followed. He chose his next words carefully. “Officer Maywood is faithful and sincere. If he didn’t give you a floral decoration, then he must truly have been too busy to dance with you that day.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine Neil being concerned that promising her a dance he might miss would be rude. Claudia understood this.

“Mm,” she said, absently gazing outside with her lapis eyes. “You know, I don’t particularly like or dislike you…”

“Why are you bringing that up now?”

“But I do rather like how accurate your impression of Neil is.”

Cyril sniffed, showing his usual arrogance “Anyone who can’t see Officer Maywood’s talent must be utterly blind.”

“You are quite right,” said Claudia mildly, bringing her cup back to her lips.

As he sat across from his adoptive younger sister, Cyril Ashley was thinking about a different girl—the very one stoking his apprehensions, Student Council Accountant Monica Norton.

Would she want someone to give her a floral decoration? Would she be sad if she didn’t receive one?

No, knowing Accountant Norton, she probably doesn’t want to dance at all.

Monica was a disaster when it came to ballroom dancing—or even just being in front of others. She’d never enjoy a ball. He was sure his fears were unfounded.

Convinced, he drank the rest of his very sugary black tea. Cyril might have a sweet tooth, but even he couldn’t help wincing when it hit his tongue.