Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 6 - Chapter Pr

PROLOGUE

The Dazzling Family of Villains’ Pre-Solstice Show

County Kerbeck, located in the east of the Kingdom of Ridill, was a land of plenty. Melted snow from the Worgan Mountains formed a great river that flowed through the area and blessed it with water. Harvests were always bountiful, and forestry was booming.

The domain’s well-maintained roads and stops for travelers formed the backbone of highly valued trade routes both domestic and foreign. Traffic remained heavy, even now that the winter holidays had drawn near.

But precisely because Kerbeck enjoyed the most fertile lands in the eastern provinces, its people always had to be vigilant—both in regard to dragonraids and to attacks from other nations.

House Norton, which had governed these lands for many years, possessed one of the most formidable armies in the kingdom as well as great diplomatic power. This garnered the respect of other nobles in the region, and even some from the kingdom’s center. The current Count of Kerbeck, Azure Norton, was known far and wide as a righteous man beloved by his people.

And now, in those same lands ruled by Count Kerbeck, on a small path branching off a larger road, walked a lone man. He was a detective, and a certain noble girl had hired him. In his midthirties, he wore traveling clothes; both his attire and appearance were plain, making it easy for others to forget him.

He looked out at the Worgan Mountains in the distance, then called to a nearby farmhand.

“Hard at work, I see! Despite the cold!”

“Sure am. Dragonraids’ve been awful lately,” said the worker. “But when the dragons’re sittin’ still for the winter, we make good progress on the farms.”

“Are those the Worgan Mountains over there? The ones the black dragon came from?”

“Hah, weren’t just the one. He had a whole swarm of pterodragons with ’im. The whole sky over yonder was black as night. Right terrifyin’, if you ask me.”

The farmhand used body language and hand gestures as he spoke. The other workers, starved for new people to talk to, started to gather around and add themselves into the conversation.

“’Ey! A traveler! You here to collect scales like the rest of ’em?”

The Black Dragon of Worgan had appeared in Kerbeck in the early days of summer. The Silent Witch, one of the Seven Sages, had slain it. Apparently, a lot of people had been trekking up into the mountains ever since to collect the scales it dropped. Dragon scales were prized as materials for charms and magical items, and depending on the variety and quality, could sell for as much as rare gems.

The detective wasn’t here to find any scales, but he decided to express vague agreement so the farmhands wouldn’t find him suspicious. “Well, something like that,” he said.

“Don’t think there’s many good ones left,” said a worker. “The hunters made off with boatloads this summer.”

“Aye. Don’t bother climbin’ the mountains this time of year. You’re like to get crushed by an avalanche or mauled by a boar.”

“Is that right?” the detective replied. “Hmm. That’s a shame. Oh, I meant to ask. Are there any good places to stay around here? I haven’t settled on where to lodge for the night just yet.”

The farmhands all grinned and recommended him an inn.

“If you’re lookin’ to spend the night, it’s gotta be the Golden Rooster. They’ve got great salted meat and bean soup there.”

“And if you can sing a song or do anythin’ else to entertain, you could visit the lord’s mansion. He loves that stuff. Might even let you stay the night there.”

The farmhands had just mentioned the detective’s intended destination. He chuckled to himself—what a stroke of good luck. Then he offered a polite smile. “Is that right? As it happens, I can sing a bit… Maybe I’ll pay him a visit after all. What sort of man is the lord here?”

“The count? Oh, he’s a good-natured fellow.”

“Yeah. He has more fun durin’ the festivals than anybody else.”

“Always keeps the people in mind, that one. A better lord I couldn’t ask for.”

The common folk’s expressions were cheerful as they talked about their lord—and proud. The detective’s preliminary investigation had been correct; Azure Norton, the Count of Kerbeck, was indeed beloved by his people.

But then one of the farmhands glanced around before taking on a severe look and lowering his voice. “Ah, wait. If you’re goin’ to the lord’s place, make sure you stay well away from their stable, y’hear?”

“Did something happen at their stable?” asked the detective, mystified.

The farmhands all stopped talking. Eventually, the eldest among them, a man, managed to mumble out the rest.

“Few years ago, the last lord’s wife had a daughter—adopted from a monastery, y’see. They were all nice to the girl for as long as the wife lived, but after she passed, things took a turn… Lady Isabelle’s especially hard on her, makin’ her do odd jobs and lockin’ her in the stable when she’s got no use for her.”

That’s her, thought the detective. Apparently, the target of his investigation was the subject of rumors among the common folk, too. And that means she’s no fictional character… But I should go in person, just to be sure.

“Oh, that’s… I feel bad for the girl.” He offered the workers a sympathetic expression as he mulled over how to go about his next task.

“The lord’s a good person otherwise, y’see, but he’s so cold to that poor girl… Anyway, if you’re goin’ to his mansion, you’d best not bring her up in conversation.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

After that, the detective chatted with the farmhands a little more, then politely excused himself and headed for the lord’s mansion.

“…He’s gone.”

“Sure is.”

After the man in traveling attire had left, the farmhands murmured to one another as they began their real work for the day.

“All right, you lot. Mission’s startin’. I’m gonna grab a horse and head to the lord’s place. You talk to the old guy at the Golden Rooster and have him hold the traveler up.”

“Got it. That old man sure knows how to ramble, don’t he? Perfect for wastin’ our target’s time.”

“Sure does. All right, I’m headin’ out for a bit.”

The detective arrived at Count Kerbeck’s mansion quite late in the afternoon. He’d planned to get there a little earlier, but on his way, a loquacious old man had held him up, and a passing woman had sold him baked goods. Together, they’d taken up a good amount of his time.

The lord’s mansion was large and grandiose but with few of the colorful decorations you saw in the estates to the west of the kingdom. The people of the eastern provinces, which were particularly prone to dragonraids, tended to favor long-lasting structures. It seemed Kerbeck was no exception.

I suppose I could act like a proper performing traveler and go straight to the front door, he thought, but before I do, I think I’ll check in on the girl in person. From what those farmhands said, she’s usually in the stable…

The man evaded the gate guards and rounded the mansion. Stables were usually located in the back. On his way, he found a conveniently damaged section of fence, so he used it to slip into the premises. Staying hidden in the shadows, he made his way toward the stable.

As he approached, he heard a young woman’s voice mixed in with the horses’ neighing.

“Ohhh-ho-ho-ho!”

Wondering what the ruckus was, the detective peered inside through a small window. In the stable, a girl with light-brown hair was on her knees, sobbing. Looking down at her was a noble girl with orange ringlets. She had a maidservant with her.

That’s Isabelle Norton, Count Kerbeck’s daughter. So then the other one must be…

The girl whimpering in front of Isabelle was very thin. She was hanging her head, so he couldn’t make out the details of her face, but her clothing was shabby, cut and torn in places.

“Oh, Lady Isabelle, please…,” implored the brown-haired girl in a weak voice. She kept breaking into sobs. “Please, can I…have something to eat…?”

“You? Eat? When you’re even less useful than the horses in this stable? You’re lower than livestock! I can’t believe you’d be so bold. Oh, why in the world did my grandmother take in a girl like you?”

“Please, ma’am… Please…”

As the brown-haired girl continued her pathetic entreaties, Isabelle narrowed her eyes. Then a wicked grin appeared on her face. “All right. I suppose I can give you some water. Agatha?” she said, glancing at the servant next to her.

The woman picked up a bucket filled with the horses’ drinking water, then splashed some of it on the ground in front of the pitiful girl. The water was cold from the midwinter air and soaked the hem of the girl’s clothes, staining her skirt. And her outfit was already so wretched. She stared at her wet skirt blankly.

Isabelle, still smiling wickedly, said to her, “On your hands and knees, now. You may drink as much as you like.”

“…Mmph, hic… Hic…”

The brown-haired girl trembled and hung her head, meaning to put her mouth to the puddle. But just then, a man appeared in the stable. He wore a splendid, hand-sewn mantle, and his mouth was adorned with a mustache. The detective knew who it was instantly—the lord of this estate, Count Kerbeck.

“Ah, Isabelle! Wonderful daughter mine! Whatever are you doing in a place like this?” he asked, twirling his mustache.

Isabelle immediately adopted a sad expression. Tears crept into her eyes as she ran to her father for a hug. “Father, listen! This girl tried to splash me with water!”

The brown-haired girl raised her head in surprise. “N-no, I didn’t…,” she said in a frail voice.

But the count refused to listen to the wretched girl’s words. “Shameless ingrate!” he yelled, his deep voice reverberating. “We took you in, and this is how you repay us?!”

The poor girl prostrated herself, shaking, ignoring how the action got her clothes even dirtier.

I see. It appears the rumors are true—Monica Norton is the outcast of the family.

As the detective observed this exchange, he noticed a boy approaching—a groom—so he quickly left the stable and returned the same way he’d come.

He’d seen enough. It would be foolish to pretend to be a performer and stay at this mansion. It would only risk drawing suspicion. It was time to go back to his employer, collect his reward, and enjoy a lavish New Year’s celebration for himself.

The groom stepped into the stable where the wicked nobles were scorning the girl and bowed to the count. “The intruder seems to have left the premises,” he reported crisply.

“I see,” said the count, nodding, before turning to the girl on the ground. “You did excellent work, Sandy.”

The brown-haired girl exhaled audibly and glanced up. A grin appeared on her plain face, and she began to speak with her natural accent. “How was that? I did a real good job playin’ the poor little bullied girl, didn’t I?”

“You did indeed,” agreed the count. “Your performance was wonderful. I’d expect nothing less from the one who triumphed over all the others in that fierce audition!”

“I agree, Father,” said Isabelle. “The way she spoke, the way she held herself, her facial expressions, her mannerisms—everything simply exuded weakness and frailty. It was beautiful! Sandy, you’re talented enough to be a professional actress!”

“Heh-heh… Aw, c’mon, you’re gettin’ me all embarrassed now, ma’am.”

Sandy scratched her cheek bashfully. She was the fourth daughter of a carrot farmer, and was twelve years old. She beat out some tough competition in an audition sponsored by House Norton and was chosen to play the role of Monica Norton during the winter holidays.

The count and his daughter, meanwhile, would act as the wicked family who had taken the fictional Monica Norton in. This was all to help the real Monica—the Silent Witch Monica Everett—with her mission.

A few days ago, someone suspicious had appeared at several county monasteries, asking if they were once home to someone named Monica.

The Silent Witch’s cover story as Monica Norton was that the former countess of Kerbeck had adopted her from a monastery. Someone had clearly thought her existence suspicious and had gone sniffing around County Kerbeck. The count, in turn, had ordered the people living near his mansion to guide any suspicious travelers to him so that he, Isabelle, Agatha, and Sandy, the stand-in, could put on an act to fool them—to make them believe that a girl named Monica Norton did, in fact, live there.

“My lord, should I follow that man?” asked Isabelle’s maidservant, Agatha.

Count Kerbeck thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. “No need. While I would prefer to learn who his employer is, we might blow our cover if we pry. And that would waste all the effort we put into our act.”

For the moment, it was more important to ignore any spies and focus on creating an alibi for Monica Norton over the winter holiday.

There was only one thing to do, and the count puffed out his chest and declared his resolve. “It seems we need to polish our acting skills even further for when more spies appear!”

“Yes, Father! I shall continue my research on how a villainess should act!”

“My lord,” said Agatha, “if I may be so bold… Did you grow out your mustache for this occasion?”

Count Kerbeck seemed a little giddy as he proudly brushed his mustache with a finger. “I did. I had a feeling it might come in handy.”

“That’s so smart, Father! Every evil count needs a mustache!”

No one present brought up that plenty of regular counts also had mustaches. That would have been rude.

As the wicked father-daughter duo discussed villainous behavior and attire, the groom hesitantly interrupted. “Sir, ma’am, it’s a little cold out here. Perhaps it would be best to continue inside the mansion?”

“Ah, yes, you’re right. My apologies.”

Count Kerbeck lowered his hand from his mustache, then turned to face Sandy. He looked upon the commoner with gentle eyes, filled with the dignity and kindness his people so adored.

“Sandy, I apologize for confining you here during winter vacation,” he said. “You ought to be spending it with your family.”

“No, sir, not at all…”

Sandy would have to continue her role as Monica Norton for the rest of Serendia Academy’s winter break. Naturally, that meant she couldn’t go back home, and she’d have to spend both the solstice and the New Year’s holiday with the Norton family. This weighed heavily on the count’s mind.

“In exchange,” he said, “House Norton will wholeheartedly welcome you as our guest.”

Count Kerbeck was a larger-than-life figure who took the lead during dragonraids and never faltered, a playful man who would gleefully join in village festivities, and more than anything else, a lord who held his people first and foremost in his mind. That was why they loved and respected him. That popularity was also the reason they were following his instructions, stopping any suspicious travelers and reporting them to his mansion.

Sandy looked up at the count with respect and gratitude. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, bowing.

Isabelle and Agatha smiled.

“Sandy, please, make yourself at home,” said Isabelle. “We’ve prepared plenty of food, too.”

“First we’ll get you a bath,” added Agatha. “We also have clothes for you to change into.”

“Wow… I never dreamed anyone’d ever treat me this nice…”

Incidentally, Sandy’s role came with three meals a day—plus snacks—and she got to borrow clothes.

When she wasn’t pretending to be tormented, she would get to wear lovely dresses, eat delicious meals, and sleep in a soft bed. Plus, she would be paid handsomely and return home with baked goods handmade by House Norton’s chef. It was a truly wonderful job.