Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 6 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

I Only Have One Thing to Say

Usually, the king personally presided over the New Year’s ceremony, but because of his ailing health, First Prince Lionel and his mother, Queen Vilma, were taking charge this year. The scope of the ceremony and the decorations were as grand as always, but certain parts of the address were being simplified and shortened.

Seated in the section reserved for the Seven Sages, Monica held down the edges of her hood and covertly glanced around at the participants. Currently at the podium giving the address in a sonorous voice was First Prince Lionel Brem Edward Ridill. She’d just run into him in the gardens earlier.

Behind him were two queens. One was Queen Vilma, the first prince’s mother, and the other was Queen Phillis, the third prince’s mother. Queen Aileen, the second prince’s mother, had passed away after giving birth to Felix.

Queen Vilma had reddish-brown hair and captivating features. She was a princess from the neighboring Kingdom of Landor, but she’d served in her former country’s military and had even fought at the front line. As a result, she was quite muscular, even when compared to a man. She certainly looked like the mother of the rugged Prince Lionel.

Queen Phillis, on the other hand, was a short, pretty, blond-haired woman with a mild, feminine demeanor. She was very talented in management and administration, however, and rumor had it that she’d personally rebuilt her family’s finances.

Finally, sitting in the seats closest to the podium were Second Prince Felix Arc Ridill and Third Prince Albert Frau Roberia Ridill.

Monica mentally reviewed the basic information Raul had shared with her before the ceremony. As she did so, she turned her gaze to the seat next to Felix’s—the one assigned to the man closest to the royal family. The one seated there had a cold look about him. His blond hair was speckled with gray and tied back, while his blue almond-shaped eyes stared straight ahead.

This was Darius Nightray, also known as Duke Clockford.

Monica swallowed, then burned all the numbers making up his face into her mind with perfect accuracy.

Before, she’d been uninterested in politics and had never tried to remember the faces of anyone at such gatherings. That was why she’d failed so miserably when she first enrolled at Serendia Academy; she hadn’t even known what Felix looked like.

First, she intended to memorize the names and faces of everyone present and get a picture of their relationships to one another. Once she’d committed all their faces to memory, she turned to the king, seated atop his throne.

Ambrose Chraedol Ridill was a man just entering old age with blond hair and a beard, and he was currently staring listlessly out at the proceedings. Despite this, he seemed gentle and mild. This was the man who ordered Louis, under utmost secrecy, to guard the second prince. It had all begun with him.

It doesn’t seem like he’s, um, very healthy…

His eyes were unfocused, but it seemed to Monica as if he were looking down at a great chessboard from far above.

“Heeey! Monica! Let’s go to the feast!”

Once the New Year’s ceremony was over, Monica holed herself up in her guest room, planning to stay there until sundown. But Raul was now at her door, holding the hem of Ray’s robe in a death grip.

“Why me…?” complained the shaman. He looked ready to die on the spot.

Raul’s long eyelashes fluttered as he winked. “No need to worry! Mr. Louis and Mr. Bradford will be there, too!”

“Those old guys will just be downing booze… Ugh, I don’t want to be near them…”

“If you don’t like liquor, there’s plenty of food. Ray, Monica, I think the both of you should eat more. You’re both so lanky.”

Ray’s dreary face scrunched up, his expression an exquisite mix of displeasure, despair, and irritation. “And now we’re on a first-name basis,” he muttered. “I don’t want a man calling me by my first name…”

“Look, you can call me Raul, too! We’re friends, right?” Raul grinned and clapped Ray on the shoulder.

Ray’s skinny frame wobbled, then he leaned helplessly into the wall. “Friends… Friends,” he murmured. “Where is the line between friendship and platonic love? I just want to be loved by a girl. I don’t need friends. Being friends with a man more handsome than me… This sucks…”

Raul used his free hand to grab hold of Monica’s robe as she stood in the doorway, flustered. “Let’s get going! I’ve always wanted to attend a feast with friends!”

Clearly on cloud nine, Raul headed off, practically skipping. As he dragged the shaken Monica behind him, she pulled her veil out of her pocket and put it over her mouth, then pulled her hood back up to cover her head. This robe was the official uniform of the Seven Sages, so there would be no issue if she wore it to the feast. However, she would stand out.

When they reached the feast hall, Raul let Ray and Monica go. Humming, he swung open the doors. As soon as they stepped into the room, everyone around them turned to look.

“It’s the Witch of Thorns,” someone said. “And the current head of…”

“Wow, I never see Albright shamans attend feasts.”

The gazes directed at Raul and Ray seemed more terrified than deferential. Both the Witch of Thorns and the Abyss Shaman were permanent fixtures among the Sages. The heads of their respective families inherited the role, and they both had the weight of fame and history behind them. That shackled them in many respects, and more than a few people were frightened of them.

Raul didn’t seem bothered, however. Marching to the beat of his own drum, he tromped into the hall.

Monica made herself as small as humanly possible and hid behind him, trembling. But with Ray doing the same thing, there wasn’t enough space, and they were both hanging out to the sides.

As they tried their best to disappear, those around them continued murmuring.

“Hey, could that be…the Silent Witch?”

“The Silent Witch? At a feast? Is it true?”

Monica started to hear her title crop up in nearby conversations. The other guests were probably curious because she almost never attended such gatherings. She fidgeted under their gazes.

Raul stopped and looked at her. “Come to think of it, Monica, I heard you not only slayed the Black Dragon of Worgan, but the Cursed Dragon of Rehnberg, too.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yes…”

“I bet that’s why everyone has their eyes on you! That’s amazing! You’re so popular!”

Monica froze.

She was completely indifferent toward her own accomplishments and how others thought of her. Frankly, she didn’t really care about such things. And so, she’d never expected the two dragon-related incidents to garner so much attention.

Noooooo… N-now what? What should I do…?

She might run into Felix or Cyril here, too—not to mention any number of other students from Serendia Academy. She knew she shouldn’t have come. She had to hurry and leave…but just as she turned around, she heard a familiar voice.

“Lady Everett!”

This voice, full of excitement, set all her hairs on end.

Felix was rushing over to her. He wore an ear to ear smile on his gorgeous face, and his eyes were practically sparkling.

She wanted to flee. She really did, but a member of the royal family had just addressed her. She couldn’t possibly ignore him.

N-now whaaaaat…?!

Monica held her still painful left hand with her right and lowered her head. It was possible Duke Clockford was involved in both the cursed dragon incident and the death of Monica’s father. And by extension, it was possible that Felix, the duke’s grandson and puppet, was as well. How was she supposed to interact with him now?

Wholly ignorant of her inner turmoil, Felix smiled at her. “Thank you for all your help in Rehnberg. How is your left hand doing?”

Nooo…

“The magecraft dedication this morning was incredible. Your magecraft is always so intricate and beautiful. I count myself a very lucky man to have been able to see it… I’m sure this year will be wonderful.”

Ahhhh…

Now she and Felix had the attention of the entire hall. They were the heroes who had slain the cursed dragon, after all. The spectators’ gazes ran the gamut from admiring to scheming. Some of them wanted to use this politically, and it made Monica’s stomach throb with anxiety.

Anyway… Zero, one, one, two, three, five… I have to get out of here somehow… Eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine… Waaaahhhh! I want to run away and surround myself with numbers instead of people!

As she teared up under her hood, Ray murmured a spell and covertly pointed a finger at her. A creepy pattern appeared on her left arm and emitted a sharp light. She raised her left hand quickly, unsure what was happening

Felix paled. “My lady?! Is that the curse from the dragon?!”

Monica panicked, confused. Meanwhile, Ray rolled up her left sleeve and nodded as though this all made perfect sense to him.

“Yes. She’ll need to go back to her room and rest,” he said loudly. Then he whispered so that only Monica could hear. “…My curse is just making your arm glow. It will soon disappear.”

Ray, who suspected the second prince of involvement with the traitorous shaman, had just created an excuse for Monica to leave without getting too close to Felix.

Lord Abyss Mage… Thank you so much! Monica thought sincerely, gripping her left hand over her robe as if she was in great pain. Then she bowed to Felix and turned to go.

“Please wait, my lady. Someone should go with you…”

Monica shook her head and rushed off awkwardly, aiming for the exit. Running at the feast was incredibly conspicuous—in a bad way—but most of the guests were drunk by now, so nobody bothered to criticize her for it.

Just a little farther. There’s the exit…

Monica suffered from a chronic lack of exercise, and she was soon heaving and panting. The air in the hall was thick with body heat and the odor of alcohol. Just breathing in made her feel sick.

“…Ah, haah… Ugh…”

As she began to feel dizzy from the smell, she ran into someone crossing in front of her. She bounced off them and landed on her rear end, on the floor. Immediately, she opened her mouth to apologize, then shut it again.

The air she’d just breathed in didn’t smell like booze—it was cold. Chilly.

“My apologies. Are you hurt?” The man extended a hand to her—it was Cyril.

Monica’s heart began to pound. She broke into a cold sweat. If this had happened at the academy, Cyril probably would have scolded her. “No running in the hall!” he’d have said. But right now, he was offering her his hand like a gentleman.

Nervously, she took it, and Cyril deftly helped her to her feet.

“Ah, you’re the one from earlier…the Silent Witch.”

“……”

“I know it may be rude to ask this out of the blue, but is it possible that you and I have met somewhere before?”

His tone and demeanor were terribly polite. He wasn’t speaking to Monica Norton, student council accountant. He was speaking to Monica Everett, the Silent Witch and one of the Seven Sages.

One day, Monica would leave Serendia Academy. She knew that if she ever ran into someone she’d met while undercover in her true capacity as the Silent Witch, this would happen. She’d always understood that. At least, she thought she had.

And yet she found herself in a miserable state, and unfamiliar emotions began to swirl in her mind—almost like a child throwing a tantrum.

…I don’t…like this.

She’d been shocked at how friendly Felix acted toward the Silent Witch, but the emotions she felt now about Cyril were a little different. The same thing had happened when they’d run into each other in the gardens. When he treated her like a stranger, she could feel her chest constrict.

He’s showing me such respect…and I don’t like it.

“Lady Silent Witch?”

Cyril peered at her kindly, perhaps thinking that the way she was quietly hanging her head meant she wasn’t feeling well.

A powerful terror took over Monica’s heart. No! No, no, no! she shouted wordlessly, pushing aside Cyril’s hands. But she had always been weak, and with her left hand still injured, she wasn’t able to move them an inch. Her hand stung.

“……Ah, ugh…”

She groaned through clenched teeth, then passed by Cyril and broke into a run. He looked after her, surprised and at a loss, but didn’t follow.

Nevertheless, Monica kept going. She burst out of the feast hall and continued to run. Eventually, once she’d turned several corners, she paused. She was sweating all over, and it was awfully cold. It felt like someone had dumped ice water on her.

…I thought I was prepared for this.

Monica Norton was a fictional character. Once she left Serendia Academy, she’d never be able to interact with Cyril and the others in the same way again.

That was why she wanted to make as many memories at school as she could. She’d hold them close and go on with her life. But the moment Cyril looked at her like a stranger, she’d felt her blood run cold and a sharp pain stab at her chest.

She would have much rather had him scowl and scold her like he always did.

I’ve become…so selfish.

Monica squatted down, all her energy gone. She hugged her knees and shut her eyes.

In the darkness, she recalled her days spent at Serendia Academy. Her casual chats with Lana; the way Glenn and Neil would sometimes visit from the neighboring classroom; how Claudia would come looking for Neil; how Cyril would stop by to check on Glenn’s schoolwork and complain; and how Isabelle would invite her to tea when she went back to the girls’ dorm.

Those days she spent at school as Monica Norton were very dear to her.

…Even though she knew all of it was fake.

Louis Miller, the Barrier Mage and one of the Seven Sages, was drinking wine in a corner of the feast hall, wearing a chic, formal outfit underneath his robe. At his feet lay Bradford Firestone, the Artillery Mage. He had lost their drinking contest and now slept, cradling a bottle in his arms.

The older man’s snoring clashed horribly with the band’s performance, but Louis didn’t particularly mind. If the alternative was taking part in the rumors and prying into conversations he could hear from those around him, this was much easier.

“Well, well. I see you’re back to your usual behavior!”

A beauty of unknown age wearing a robe over her white dress walked over to Louis, her laugh like the tinkling of a bell. It was Mary Harvey, the Starseer Witch.

Louis lowered the wineglass from his lips and offered her a gorgeous smile. “Would you like some as well, Lady Starseer Witch?” he asked. “This year’s wine is sublime.”

“I think I will, in fact,” she replied. “How many bottles have you emptied so far, Louie?”

“Oh, I don’t remember.” He shrugged, feigning ignorance, as he watched the other Sages out of the corner of his eye.

Emanuel Darwin, the Gem Mage, was busy flattering the nobles in the second prince’s faction. The man possessed several workshops where he manufactured and sold magical items. He was probably trying to expand his business.

Along the wall, a bit farther away, was Ray Albright, the Abyss Shaman, as gloomy as usual. With him was Raul Roseburg, the Witch of Thorns. He was chatting with Ray, a plate of food in one hand.

Mary lowered her wineglass. “Oh?” she said. “I don’t see Monica anywhere. I thought she was with those two.”

“The Silent Witch ran away just a moment ago,” said Louis.

Mary put a hand to her fair cheek. “I see,” she said. A tinge of melancholy crossed her profile.

“Are you curious about something?” Louis asked her casually.

Mary’s pale-blue eyes, which always seemed to be lost in a daydream, tracked the other Sages in the hall before turning back to Louis. And then the kingdom’s foremost prophet began to speak.

“Think of what I’m about to say as a woman talking to herself—something not quite a prophecy, but one step before… I saw the stars earlier when I was passing through the covered walkway.” Her long eyelashes fell, and the scarlet wine sloshed in her glass. “The star of the Seven Sages is obscured,” she continued. “Perhaps we will lose one of our fellows…or maybe the very existence of our group is at risk.”

As the first star-reading of the new year, that was very ominous. Louis’s eyes narrowed dangerously behind his monocle. Many of the Sages were oblivious about such things, but Louis always kept an eye on political affairs and high society rumors.

Making sure nobody was nearby, Louis lowered his voice. “Lately, I’ve heard of movements to place the Sages under the command of the Noble Assembly. Could that be related?”

“Who can say?” said Mary.

“Well, then… Have you heard the rumors about the Gem Mage?”

Mary smiled ambiguously, neither confirming nor denying.

Oh, she knows, thought Louis, now certain of it. But he knew it would be hard to wring any confirmation out of her.

Of the Seven Sages, Louis supported the first prince, Emanuel the second, while the others were all neutral. So when Louis mentioned Emanuel, a member of his rival camp, the well-informed would choose their words carefully. If Mary made any remarks implying an alliance with one or the other, it could ignite the flame of something much bigger.

The Starseer Witch probably wants me to act.

Now that he’d heard this ominous portent, one step before a prophecy, he would be forced to do something about it. And this crafty witch knew that.

Louis didn’t like the thought of being in the palm of someone else’s hand, but he was even more loath to do nothing and risk losing his current position. Unlike a certain little girl oblivious to status and honor, he had no intention of relinquishing his standing as a Sage.

Maybe I’ll have Ryn investigate the Gem Mage, he thought. His contracted wind spirit was away, looking into a few things related to Louis and Monica’s mission to protect the second prince. She would soon be done with that, however.

As he mulled over the specific steps he’d take, Mary set her glass back down on the nearby table and looked at him. “There was something I wanted to ask you as well, if that’s all right…”

“What is it?”

She cocked her head to the side like an innocent child and peered into his face. Her blue eyes reflected Louis’s image like clear pools. “Well, Louie… I simply must ask how much you know.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, come now. About His Highness’s condition.”

Louis roughly poured more wine into his glass and, in a particularly indifferent tone, replied, “Only that the doctor can’t do anything.”

“Oh really?” Mary took another step toward him, then lowered her voice to a sweet whisper, as if she were discussing secrets with a lover. “And who do you think will succeed him?” she asked.

“It seems rather indiscreet to discuss such topics here.”

“Oh, everyone’s wondering the same thing, I assure you.”

This year’s New Year’s events would be a touchstone for determining the next king. All the nobles in Ridill—particularly the neutral ones—were keeping a very close watch on how the princes chose to lead in place of the ailing king.

The first prince had taken charge of the ceremony, and the second prince, this feast. Louis supposed he could give them both passing grades. Each had remained considerate of the king’s health while keeping up a level of splendor sufficient to maintain the kingdom’s prestige. Their consideration for their people and dignity in front of foreign ambassadors left nothing to be desired.

At this point, it all came down to how many neutral parties each of their factions could convert.

“The way I see it, the second prince has a major advantage,” said Mary. “Especially now that Queen Phillis has aligned herself with Duke Clockford.”

The third prince’s faction had now joined the second prince, giving him added momentum. And Felix was currently seen as a hero for his achievements in Rehnberg. One by one, the neutral nobles were moving to his side.

Mary observed Louis, watching for a reaction, but he only sniffed. “Don’t you think it’s a bit ridiculous for the Seven Sages to advocate for either prince?” he said.

“Oh? But you support the first prince, don’t you?”

“He doesn’t have my unqualified support or anything. I simply don’t like the second prince or his grandfather.” Louis crossed his arms dramatically and said, as if reciting a slogan, “Only His Majesty stands above us. Therefore, his will should be our highest priority.”

“Oh, Louie. Your smile always shines brightest when you’re lying.”

“Ha-ha-ha. Isn’t that a little harsh?”

Louis glanced around the hall. Everyone was drinking and chatting merrily, but beneath the surface, they were trying to expose one another’s schemes and allegiances. He expected the only thing on their minds was who would be the next king.

Louis sipped at his wine as a strange, grayish-purple glint came into his eye.

“Each person here thinks they’re the player, moving pieces around however they like,” he said. “But I wonder. Who’s really looking down at this chessboard?”

After leaving the banquet hall, Monica walked through empty hallways, her roiling emotions gradually calming down. Behind the veil covering her mouth, she heaved a sigh.

I think I’ll just go back to my room for today…

She wanted to crawl into bed, stop thinking, and fall asleep. But as she was envisioning her nice, warm blanket, she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“Excuse me, Lady Silent Witch.”

Monica jerked at the sound of her name, then she turned around. Behind her stood a stranger—a middle-aged man. Judging by his clothes, she figured he was a servant to some high-ranking noble.

“My master wishes to speak with you in private,” he said.

“Your master?” Monica repeated, frowning. She didn’t know who he meant.

“Duke Clockford,” said the servant flatly.

Monica’s heart, having just settled, began to pound again. She heard blood pumping in her ears.

…I’m scared.

Darius Nightray—Duke Clockford. A suspect in the cursed dragon incident and in the death of Venedict Reyn, Monica’s father.

But I want to know the truth.

Gripping her robe at the chest with her right hand, she slowly opened her mouth.

“Very well. Please show me the way.”

The man brought her to the most formal reception room in the palace. She supposed she should have expected as much from the most influential man in the kingdom.

“Your Grace, I have brought the Silent Witch.”

“Enter.”

The voice on the other side of the door was by no means loud. Still, it took on a strange echo in Monica’s mind.

The servant prompted her to go inside. She pulled her hood low over her eyes, made sure her veil was still in place, and then headed into the room.

Sitting on the sofa was a man over sixty who wore his gray-flecked blond hair tied at his back. It was him—Duke Clockford, Felix’s maternal grandfather. Behind the duke’s sofa were two robed mages—high mages, judging by the length of their staffs.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Silent Witch,” the duke said shortly, gesturing to the seat across from him.

As Monica sat down, the servant brought them tea for two and exited the room. Meanwhile, one of the mages chanted a spell and erected a soundproofing barrier to prevent any eavesdroppers. This spell was quite advanced, and few could use it. The mage was clearly very talented.

Monica observed the duke from beneath her hood, leaving her tea untouched on the table. The man was old, but his features were handsome, speaking to an attractiveness in his youth not unlike Felix’s.

But in contrast to the calm, friendly smile Felix always wore, Duke Clockford emanated enough gravity and dignity to make anyone facing him shrink away.

No other noble in the kingdom has as much influence as he does, she thought.

She was merely sitting across from him, and yet his aura threatened to overwhelm her, to swallow her up whole. She clenched her fists on her lap and tightened her core, trying to at least keep from trembling.

The duke didn’t pick up his tea, either. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Monica. “So you will not remove your hood even for me,” he noted.

His voice was so intimidating that this remark alone made Monica want to remove her hood immediately and prostrate herself in apology.

But she didn’t. She stayed still, continuing to glare at the man from beneath her hood. The duke fell silent.

…Time passed, neither of them speaking a word. She wasn’t sure how much time.

The first to open his mouth was Duke Clockford. “In public places, the only headwear permitted are the king’s crown, a clergyman’s miter, and a court mage’s robe. Yes, you haven’t committed a single breach of courtesy. A wise decision.”

Monica felt she was being tested. If she’d given in and taken off her hood, the duke would have looked down on her, thinking he could easily control her with just a little intimidation.

Obviously, she couldn’t tell him that she was simply too nervous to move, and that she kept her hood on around others out of fear. She remained as still as a doll as the duke folded his hands on his lap.

“So, you would maintain your silence even before me,” he said.

Monica’s silence was not a counter to intimidation. She was simply too nervous, and scared she’d bite her tongue if she tried to speak. And if she asked why he’d called her here, she’d inevitably end up in hot water—her tongue would, that is.

“Very well,” the duke continued. “Then I will get straight to the point.”

O-oh, thank goodness. The point… Monica had thought she’d run out of mental energy before they even broached the main subject. She privately sighed in relief.

“First,” said the duke evenly, “I would like to express my gratitude and respect for your accomplishments in the dragonraids threatening our kingdom—regarding both the Black Dragon of Worgan and the Cursed Dragon of Rehnberg.”

To be honest, Monica had mixed feelings about his gratitude. She hadn’t slain the Black Dragon of Worgan at all, and she already suspected the duke’s involvement in the events in Rehnberg. You set all that up, didn’t you? she thought, wondering for a moment if she should say it.

In the end, though, she kept her mouth closed. The man in front of her was even more skilled at negotiation than Felix. She wouldn’t get any information out of him. Not easily anyway.

The only ones who know the cursed dragon incident was a setup are the Abyss Shaman and myself… And we’d better keep that information private.

If she said something careless, it might reveal her suspicions to the duke. Therefore, silence was the best move. First, she wanted to know his reason for summoning her here.

“I have a job I’d like to request of you,” said the duke, “seeing as you are the most talented mage in our kingdom.”

…A request? she thought dubiously.

“I would like to entrust you with the role of bodyguard,” he declared. “Specifically, for the second prince, Felix Arc Ridill.”

Monica let out a silent scream. I’m already doing that right now!

For a moment her thoughts were in chaos, but when she thought about it more calmly, she realized that the duke didn’t know about her mission at Serendia Academy. The only ones who did were Louis, the king, and a few collaborators.

Monica thought this over, making sure not to show how rattled she was. Why would the duke ask the Silent Witch to guard Felix?

Probably to get me in the second prince’s camp, she thought.

Monica was currently viewed as a hero, the slayer of two dragons, and she had a lot of eyes on her. And since the public story about the Rehnberg incident was that she’d fought alongside the second prince, the duke must have assumed the two of them already knew each other somewhat.

That was why he’d set his sights on her now. If she officially became Felix’s bodyguard, others would assume that she’d aligned herself with the second prince’s faction. It didn’t matter who she supported in reality. If she accepted the duke’s request and became Felix’s bodyguard, that alone would convince everyone that she was now his ally.

The only supporter of the second prince among the Sages is the Gem Mage. If I join him, it will alter the balance of power…

And that was, in all likelihood, exactly what the duke was after.

“Will you accept?” he asked.

Monica silently shook her head. To begin with, she was already acting to protect Felix under orders from the king. She couldn’t accept a conflicting request from the duke.

He watched her closely. His eyebrow hadn’t twitched, and he hadn’t frowned. But she felt a mounting sense of intimidation from him.

And yet for all the influence and authority Duke Clockford wielded, he couldn’t give orders to a Sage. All he could do was make requests. And Monica had the right to refuse him.

The duke glanced at the two mages standing behind him. “These two are very talented, straight from the Magic Corps. I can assign them to you if you wish. And if you desire anyone else, I can pluck them from the necessary organizations.”

The man was feared and respected as one of the highest authorities in the kingdom. And he was doing his utmost to win over the Silent Witch and get her on his side. It was clear how much value he saw in her now that she’d slain two dragons.

Monica silently rose to her feet and began walking toward the door. She intended this to signal that she had no more to say.

As she placed her hand on the doorknob, the duke called after her, his voice even, not flustered in the slightest. “The Noble Assembly is considering creating a Chief Sage position for the Seven Sages. I could recommend you for the spot.”

Even if they could create such a position, they would need the king’s sign-off. Duke Clockford didn’t have that authority. And yet he had stated it categorically. That could mean only one thing.

He plans to extend his control to the entire kingdom, she thought.

“Felix will be king eventually,” the duke continued. “I can have him appoint you Chief Sage…and he will do what I say.”

At this, Monica’s vision went blank.

The back of her head felt hot and numb all at once. Something dark rose from the pit of her stomach. A powerful emotion was threatening to overcome her. She didn’t know its name, but it drove her to cast an unchanted spell.

White particles of light began to emerge from below her feet, floating up and taking shape. Soon, they became a flock of fluttering white butterflies. It was a mental interference spell. This was a forbidden technique with restricted applications, but she purposely used it anyway.

She wanted the duke to know that if he tried to force this deal any further, she would respond appropriately.

She turned around as the butterflies surrounded the duke and the mages behind him. The latter were clearly disturbed. The duke, however, didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Name your price, Silent Witch,” he said.

She could choose to remain silent here. She would gain nothing from speaking to this man.

Nevertheless, she leveled a stare at the duke, her eyes devoid of emotion.

“You have nothing I want,” she said.

But if she had to say, there was one thing she wanted from this callous man, and one thing only: the truth. The whole truth. Laid bare for all to see.

Were you behind the cursed dragon? Were you involved in my father’s death? Why does the prince do whatever you say?

But she knew he wouldn’t answer any of these questions. Hiding how her legs shook, she left and headed back to her own room.

She wanted to be alone there for the rest of the day.

Just before reaching her chambers, Monica spotted someone a little ways in front of her. It was a young man with blond hair in splendid formal attire—Felix. His hair was uncharacteristically disheveled. He must have left the banquet hall in quite a hurry.

“Lady Everett,” he said. “I heard that my grandfather summoned you.”

“……”

“What did he tell you? He didn’t force any impossible requests on you, I hope.”

Monica stifled a relieved sigh. He doesn’t know about the duke’s request, she thought. His voice and expression both looked genuinely concerned. The fact remained, however, that he was the duke’s puppet.

Why do you do everything he tells you to?

The words nearly made it out of her mouth, but she swallowed them back down and passed by Felix’s side. The prince was sincerely worried about her.

But he was hiding something.

I’m…scared of you.

As Felix called her name from behind, Monica entered her chambers and shut the door. She didn’t bother lighting a candle. Instead, she immediately collapsed into bed, cradled the sleeping Nero in her arms, and closed her eyes.