Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 4 - Chapter SS

Secret Episode: The Traitorous Shaman's Whereabouts

“…Ah, ah-choo!”

Under a star-filled sky, atop the roof of the grand hall where the ball was taking place, the Barrier Mage, Louis Miller, sneezed and shivered. The northern wind was blowing against his cheek, announcing winter’s imminent arrival. Privately, he reflected on how he should have brought warmer clothes if he was going to be sitting up on the roof like this for such a long time.

“Ugh, it’s so cold…”

Grumbling, Louis removed a small bottle of wine from his inside pocket and gulped it down. Nothing like strong alcohol to warm yourself up quickly.

It would be warmer in the ballroom, but only those with a direct invitation from Duke Clockford were allowed to attend. Naturally, a supporter of the first prince like Louis was not one of them. That was why he was up on the roof, keeping watch while doing his best to stay warm.

Though I doubt anyone would dare try to sneak into that ballroom…

The guests were all handpicked by the duke himself, and security was tight. He didn’t think there would be any problems, but it was best to make absolutely sure.

…Still…

Casting a farsight spell, Louis directed his gaze to a garden next to the grand hall. Standing there in conversation were the second prince—the very person he’d been ordered to protect—and the Silent Witch, Monica Everett.

I told her to rest. She must be very passionate about her work.

If he got close enough to hear what they were saying, the ever-vigilant second prince might notice him. Instead, he simply watched them from afar with his magecraft.

It’s wonderful that she won the prince’s trust, but…I have a feeling the girl is in a little too deep. He’d need to take that into account when working out future plans.

As he mulled this over and downed more liquor, Ryn—in her maid’s outfit—silently landed behind him. Her bird form was much less conspicuous, but it probably didn’t matter now that the sun had set. He didn’t look at her, instead keeping his eyes on Monica and the prince. “Anything wrong inside the school?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “And I have a message from the Abyss Shaman, who is patrolling outside the grounds.”

Louis scowled, recalling the face of his depressing colleague. “Keep it simple for me.”

“He complained about you, demanded to be loved, cursed the world for not loving him, outwardly envied mycelia, and reported that there are no suspicious persons near the school. That is all.”

As expected, 90 percent of her report was worthless. It was good that nobody weird was hanging about, but then again, the gloomy shaman himself was probably the weirdest of them all.

Still, while he might be questioned, it was unlikely he would be taken into custody while wearing his Sage’s robes. At least, Louis hoped not.

But what were the assassins after? If they wanted to kill the prince, there were far simpler ways of doing so. All they’d done was use disguises to get close to him. Louis had checked inside the school after that, but aside from the fake Spiralflame he’d retrieved, he found no other magic items.

“Ryn, you heard what the assassins and the Silent Witch said to each other, right? Did either of them let slip anything about the goal of this little infiltration mission?”

“Yes, they were quite slippery indeed,” said Ryn, nodding once before continuing in a monotone. “The intruders made the following remarks: ‘Ewan, were you able to confirm it?’ ‘I wasn’t able to make direct contact, but I got a good look up close, and I saw the traces. It’s the work of the traitor Artur. The prediction we were given was correct after all.’ And that is it.”

Artur was a common name in the Empire. It seemed safe to assume the assassins were under that government’s influence. But why would someone from the Empire want to get near the second prince?

And who was this traitor, Artur?

…Wait.

A hypothesis formed in his mind. It was a bizarre, ridiculous idea. But if true, it would explain why the Starseer Witch could no longer read the second prince’s fate.

Could His Majesty have known something? Is that why he sent me? To suss them out?

Unfortunately, this wasn’t something he could carelessly bring up with the king. If things went badly, his head could fly for the crime of disrespecting the crown.

More importantly, if his hypothesis was correct, this was big enough to shake the kingdom to its core.

Louis couldn’t help but smile. He put a hand to his mouth and chuckled.

“Lord Louis, your face is like that of a fiendish villain drawing up his evil designs.”

“Evil? Don’t paint me as the villain. It’s just that when I imagine Duke Clockford’s downfall, I’m so happy I can’t stop smiling. That’s all.”

If his hypothesis was correct, then both the duke and the second prince would be brought low. Louis didn’t have any positive feelings toward either of them, so he had no reason to be merciful.

But I should keep this a secret from the Silent Witch… Her emotions have become a liability.

He wasn’t sure how she’d act in the face of the second prince’s downfall. It would be safest to play things close to the vest until absolutely necessary.

Louis licked his dry lips and grinned evilly. “Bullying those in power feels so good.”

The day after Serendia Academy’s school festival, an especially fancy carriage made its way down a road in the eastern part of the kingdom. The carriage was not only large, but it utilized cutting-edge magic items to absorb the shaking.

Riding in that big, comfortable carriage was Duke Rehnberg, his wife, several servants, and a man wearing traveling clothes. The traveler sat directly in front of the duke, wearing an insincere smile and talking as much as they would let him.

“Woo-hoo! I must apologize for all this, m’lord—a dingy man like me riding in your fancy carriage.”

The traveler’s name was Bartholomeus. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a bandanna tied around his short black hair.

Duke Rehnberg, offering only brief, simple replies, was a slender man in middle age. If one was being charitable, they might say he was “elegant,” but the truth was he seemed rather helpless.

In a voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the wheels, the duke said, “No, no, don’t worry. It’s thanks to you that this carriage is so comfortable in the first place, Bartholomeus.”

The carriage that Duke Rehnberg and his wife had used to attend Serendia Academy’s school festival the day before had broken down on their way home. Part of the magic item that absorbed the carriage’s shaking had been damaged, making the rattling worse than ever.

Carriages fitted with magic items were convenient, but the issue was that not many people could repair them. Especially not in the middle of the road.

Their party had been stuck, unable to do much of anything, when Bartholomeus happened to walk by. He’d told them he was a traveling engineer, then used only the tools he had on hand to repair the carriage. Apparently, he’d held a job at a workshop for magic items in the past.

That was why the duke was so grateful and why he’d invited him to their estate and brought him into the carriage.

“Once we’ve arrived, please allow me to thank you,” said the duke.

“That’d be just swell, m’lord. There was something I wanted to ask you about. As you can see, I’m an engineer, but I’ve been out of a job for a spell…” He trailed off, implying he wanted the man to help him find work.

The duke nodded generously. “In that case, why not come work for us?”

“Are you sure?!” cried Bartholomeus. “That would be wonderful! I’m good with my hands, but that’s honestly all I’ve got. If you have odd jobs that need doing, I’ll take on anything. I can paint walls, repair stables, even fix clothes—anything you need, m’lord, just say the word!”

Yet another man sat in the carriage headed for Duke Rehnberg’s domain, quietly stifling his panic. He was a shaman—and he’d once ingratiated himself with House Albright, stolen its techniques and tools, and fled.

I can’t believe the Albrights have caught wind of my location already…

The man was practically in a frenzy after the Abyss Shaman had spotted him leaving Serendia Academy’s school festival. If he was caught, he’d never see the light of day again. The current family head was still young, but the previous head, now an old woman, could commit any number of atrocities if she put her mind to it.

He would feel pain. Every variety of it. In accordance with House Albright’s teachings, he would not even be afforded death as an escape. He would be kept alive to suffer—in ways both brutal and humiliating.

He recalled the evil smirk of the Abyss Shaman’s predecessor and shivered. That person… That noble personage will protect me from the Albrights. I just know it. But if my research doesn’t produce results, they’ll eventually abandon me. Like they abandoned Victor Thornlee and his mental interference magecraft.

Victor Thornlee, formerly a teacher at Serendia Academy, had been thrown in prison for appropriation of school funding and the use of forbidden magecraft. He’d never have a second chance to blossom as a mage.

I have to finish this puppetry curse as soon as I can—before I’m cut off, too. I won’t let it end here, thought the man, clenching his fists in his lap. His hands were plenty dirty already. There was no going back now.

“You seem quite skilled, Bartholomeus,” said Duke Rehnberg. “You took no time at all to fix our carriage’s magic item.”

Bartholomeus opened his mouth wide and laughed. “Wah-ha!” He’d always been a loud man. He scratched his beard, then started up again with an air of solemnity. “I don’t deserve that much credit, m’lord. Magic items have a lot of delicate calculations underpinning them, so if even one is missing, the whole thing falls apart. All I did was slip in a replacement for the missing piece.”

“Oh? Calculations, you say?”

“Yeah, magic items—well, magic formulae in general—it’s all just a world of numbers when you get right down to it. They’re just filled with ’em, you might say.”

The disguised shaman sucked in his breath at those casual words.

“The world is filled with numbers.”

That was what the man he most detested always said.

Ahhh, ahhh… Even in death, your words continue to torment me… Your existence is like a curse, Venedict.

Victor Thornlee had been imprisoned. Venedict Reyn had been burned at the stake. Both of them had met their doom.

I will not fail, he told himself. I cannot…

The shamanic arts were said to be a poison that sprung forth from the abyss in one’s heart. Despite feeling this poison slowly eating away at his mind, the man had clung to its techniques.

They were all he had left now.