Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 1 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

THE SCARECROW AND THE FAIRY

The sun rose over the horizon, and the morning rays shone brightly on Anne’s soft, pale cheek.

Sitting atop her wagon, Anne gripped the reins of her horse. A cool breeze blew softly past the hem of her cotton dress. The lace on her hem, simple but clean, fluttered slightly.

Anne took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.

The previous night’s rain had washed all the dust out of the air. The autumn sky was clear and blue.

Today, Anne was setting out on her journey. Still gripping the reins in both hands, she gazed ahead.

The road was muddy, with deep ruts from the wheels of countless wagons.

Anne would be heading down that road alone. Her slender frame was taut with fear and anticipation.

But she felt a faint sense of hope in her heart as well.

Just then, a voice called out from behind her, “Anne!! Wait, Anne!”

Behind Anne’s boxy, horse-drawn wagon was a cluster of simple stone houses that formed Knoxberry Village. This village in the northwest of the Kingdom of Highland had taken care of her for the past six months.

Ever since Anne was born, she had lived her life traveling from one place to another with her mother, Emma. Her time in Knoxberry Village was actually the longest she had ever spent in one place.

A tall, blond young man came running out of the village. He was Jonas, the only son of the Anders family, which ran the confectionery in Knoxberry.

“Wah, I knew it!”

Anne ducked her head and whipped the horse. As the wagon started rolling, she turned back and waved.

“Jonas! Thanks, take care!”

“Wait, please. Anne, wait! Do you hate me?!”

“That’s not why I’m leaving— Don’t worry about that—,” Anne answered loudly.

Catching his breath, Jonas shouted, “Well—well then, wait up!!”

“I’ve already made up my mind. Good-bye!”

The distance between them grew quickly. Jonas gradually slowed his pace and came to a stop. Still panting, he watched Anne in a daze.

Anne gave one last big wave, then turned forward again.

“Watch over me…Mama.”

In early spring of that year, Anne’s lively and cheerful mother, Emma, had fallen ill. They’d been passing through Knoxberry Village when it happened, and that was where they had stayed.

The people of the village were very kind to Anne and Emma, despite the fact that they were outsiders. They had offered to let the pair stay until Emma was well. Jonas and his family had lent a room free of charge to both mother and daughter during that time, perhaps out of camaraderie for fellow artisans.

However, Emma never recovered from her illness. She had passed away a few weeks prior.

“Find your own path in life and walk boldly down it, Anne. You can do anything. You’re such a good girl, Anne. Don’t cry.”

Those were Emma’s last words.

Then came the arrangements for the funeral and the formalities of a burial with the state church. While she was being hounded by such duties, Anne had let her sadness slide right off the surface of her heart. She’d grieved, but she hadn’t been able to cry out loud.

Emma was now resting in a corner of the Knoxberry Village Cemetery. Thinking about it filled Anne’s heart with a dismal feeling.

Half a month after her mother’s death, Anne had finally finished all her various tasks and decided to begin her journey.

Three nights earlier, she’d informed the members of the Anders family, who had been taking care of her, that she was leaving.

“Anne, there’s no way you can continue traveling on your own. Shouldn’t you stay here with us in the village? And…you might…become my bride?” Jonas had whispered, grabbing Anne’s hand after she’d announced her decision. He had pushed his soft, golden bangs out of his face, smiled, and looked at Anne with his sparkling eyes.

“I’ve always had feelings for you, Anne.”

For half a year, Anne had been sleeping under the same roof as Jonas, but they’d never really had an intimate conversation. She never expected someone like him to propose to her.

Jonas was handsome, and his blue eyes were especially lovely. They were like the luxurious glass orbs imported from the kingdom in the south.

Even though Jonas was basically a stranger, she felt bewildered when he looked at her with those eyes.

Anne wasn’t unhappy to have received his proposal. But she was determined to go.

She knew that Jonas might stop her if she went to say good-bye. That’s why she had tried to leave the village stealthily, in the early morning. Even so, he must have noticed. Jonas had come after her.

“Marriage…” The word left her mouth absentmindedly. Anne felt the concept had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Jonas attracted a lot of attention from the girls who lived in the village.

Of course, one reason for his popularity was the fact that his family ran a prosperous confectionery shop.

Despite living in a provincial town like Knoxberry, Jonas was a descendant of the founder of the Radcliffe Workshop, one of the largest factions of candy crafters.

Anne had heard that there was a possibility he might be chosen as the Radcliffe Workshop’s next maestro.

Before long, Jonas would probably be headed to the royal capital, Lewiston, for his training. That was the big rumor going around the village.

As the leader of a faction, if he was lucky, there was a possibility he could even become a Viscount.

To the daughters of a village in the countryside, Jonas must have seemed like a prince.

On the contrary, Anne was petite, despite being fifteen years old. She was skinny, with long arms and legs, and had fluffy hair the color of barley. Everywhere she went, she got teased for looking like a “scarecrow.”

As far as her estate was concerned, she owned one old, boxy wagon and one worn-out horse.

The wealthy blond prince had proposed marriage to the poor little scarecrow. It was like some sort of dream.

“Well, whatever. There’s no way that the prince is truly in love with a scarecrow like me,” Anne mumbled with a bitter smile, then she whipped the horse.

Jonas had always been a playboy. He was especially sweet to all the girls. Anne was certain the only reason a boy like him would ever propose to a girl like her was that he felt sorry for her circumstances.

Anne didn’t want to get married out of pity. The idea of marrying a prince and living happily ever after—like a princess in a fairy tale—didn’t seem like much of a life goal.

Anne didn’t hate Jonas. But the thought of living her life with him didn’t appeal to her.

She wanted to stand on her own two feet and carve her own path in the world. That was the kind of life she wanted to lead.

Anne’s father had been drafted to fight in a civil war not long after she was born, and he had died.

But Emma had raised Anne as a single mother and lived on.

She was able to do so because of her impressive skills as a Silver Sugar Master.

The Kingdom of Highland had many candy artisans, but Silver Sugar Masters, who were recognized by the crown as the best of the best, were rare.

Emma had become a Silver Sugar Master at the age of twenty.

Sweets made by ordinary candymakers couldn’t compare with those made by Silver Sugar Masters, which fetched a much higher price. But in the villages and towns out in the countryside, expensive candies didn’t sell very well.

In Lewiston, there was a much greater demand. However, famous Silver Sugar Masters flocked to the royal capital, so it was difficult to compete with them and come out on top.

Thus, Emma had chosen to travel throughout the kingdom, seeking out customers who needed her sugar candy.

Strong-willed with boundless cheerfulness, Emma had always loved traveling.

Traveling was hard and dangerous, but she’d earned her own living and forged her own path. It was fun.

It would be so great if I became a Silver Sugar Master just like Mama.

Anne had always vaguely felt that way. So when Emma died and Anne had to decide how she would live the rest of her life, the deep love and respect she had for her mother had sprouted in Anne’s heart as determination.

I will become a Silver Sugar Master.

But becoming a Silver Sugar Master was no ordinary feat. Anne knew that very well.

Every year in Lewiston, the royal family sponsors the Royal Candy Fair. In order to become a Silver Sugar Master, Anne would need to enter the fair and win the royal medal awarded to whoever earned first place.

Emma had entered the Royal Candy Fair when she was twenty and been awarded a royal medal. After that, she had been allowed to call herself a Silver Sugar Master.

Sugar candy is made using silver sugar refined from sugar apples. Such candy cannot be made from any other type of sugar. This is because no other sugar produces such beautiful results.

Silver sugar candies are used in all sorts of ceremonies, from weddings and funerals to coronations and coming-of-age celebrations.

It is even said that without the candy, no ceremony can begin.

Silver sugar invites joy and repels sorrow. Some say it holds the promise of sweet happiness, and it is considered a sacred food.

It is believed that in the age when Highland was still ruled by fairies, the fairies extended their life spans by consuming silver sugar candy.

Beautiful candy made with silver sugar contains a mysterious energy known as “essence.”

Of course, humans cannot extend their life spans, not even by consuming silver sugar or sugar candies.

But they are able to take in some of that mysterious energy.

In fact, when humans consume beautiful sugar candy, unexpected good fortune often works its way into their lives, and they become luckier.

This is something humans came to understand after several hundred years.

It is also why monarchs stipulated strict qualifications for Silver Sugar Masters.

The royalty and nobility want the most sacred and alluring sugar candy to bestow upon themselves numerous blessings and great happiness. Even at the great autumn festival held to pray for the tranquility of the kingdom, the way the candy turns out may determine the fortunes of the country.

As always, the annual Royal Candy Fair would be held in Lewiston at the end of autumn.

Anne intended to participate and compete for the title of Silver Sugar Master, which was granted to only one person each year.

She had heard, now that Emma had passed away, there were twenty-three Silver Sugar Masters in the kingdom.

It was not a title that could be easily won.

But Anne was confident. After all, she hadn’t spent fifteen years as an assistant to a Silver Sugar Master for nothing.

Anne’s wagon rolled down the road, with fields of wheat stretching out to the left and right.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, she had arrived in Redington, the provincial capital and the largest town in the vicinity of Knoxberry.

Redington was a castle town, with streets radiating outward from a round central plaza. Up on a hill stood the castle from which the province of Redington was governed.

As Anne advanced slowly through the town on her wagon, she saw a crowd had formed in front of her and was blocking the street.

Anne shrugged and alighted from her wagon. She tapped lightly on the shoulder of a farmer who had his back to her.

“Hey, excuse me? What’s everyone doing? The street is blocked, and I can’t get my wagon through.”

“Well…you can pass if you want, but are you brave enough to cut across that scene, young lady?”

“What scene?”

Anne peeked under the farmer’s arm to see what everyone was staring at.

She spied a brawny man standing in a patch of mud, with a bow slung over his back and a sword hanging from his belt. He wore leather boots and a vest made of animal hides. He looked like a hunter.

“You little bastard!” the hunter shouted as he stomped again and again on a little lump on the ground. Mud splashed into the air. Each time the hunter’s foot fell, the lump made a pitiful noise.

Looking carefully, Anne could see that the mound in the mud had the shape of a person, though palm-sized. On the back of the tiny individual lying facedown in the mud was a single dainty, translucent wing that was somehow unsoiled by the muck.

“Is that a fairy?! How cruel!” Anne cried quietly, and the farmer nodded.

Fairies are humanoid creatures who dwell in forests and meadows. They vary greatly in shape and size, but a distinctive characteristic shared by all are the two translucent wings on their backs.

Fairies have special abilities, and they can do all sorts of jobs well.

Anne had heard that royalty, nobles, and knights employed many fairies for different purposes.

Even common, middle-class households might have one or two to help with the housework.

In Jonas’s house, there was a fairy named Cathy who was about the size of a palm as well. She looked after Jonas’s daily needs and helped with the preparation of sugar candy.

“It’s one of the fairy hunter’s worker fairies. Looks like it tried to take its wing back and escape.” The farmer lowered his voice and pointed stealthily toward the hunter.

In the fairy hunter’s hand was a single thin wing. It matched the one on the back of the fairy in the mud.

In order to control fairies, slavers tear off one wing and keep it.

A fairy’s wings are the source of their life force. A fairy can live with one wing separated from their body, but if that wing is damaged, the fairy weakens and dies. To compare it to human physiology, the wings are like the fairy’s heart. Any human would tremble in fear if someone else held their heart captive. No one can disobey the person gripping their heart.

So by stealing one of their wings, slavers can make their fairies follow their commands.

But fairies don’t want to be slaves. Many of them try to take back their wings and escape without their masters’ knowledge.

“Even for a fairy, that’s pretty cruel treatment.”

“That fairy is gonna die!”

The people in the crowd murmured to one another, but no one moved.

Anne looked up at the farmer beside her and the other men around her.

“Hey, everyone! Are you going to let him get away with such heartless behavior?!”

But the people around Anne averted their eyes, seemingly fearful.

The farmer mumbled weakly, “I feel bad for the poor thing, but that fairy hunter has a violent temper. I’m afraid he’ll retaliate… Besides, it’s only a fairy…”

“What do you mean, ‘only a fairy’?! If we hesitate, he’s going to die! Fine, I’ll go!”

Anne pushed past the farmer and stepped forward.

“Hey, a young girl like you shouldn’t go out there!”

“I am not a child. I’m fifteen. In this country, girls are considered adults at age fifteen, right? So I’m legally an adult. I would be ashamed of myself for the rest of my life if, as a full-grown adult, I stood by and watched a fairy get tortured to death. This is no joke.”

Anne drew herself to her full height and walked quickly toward the fairy hunter.

Perhaps because he was so agitated, the hunter didn’t notice Anne. Trampling the fairy under the sole of his boot, he gripped the wing in his hands.

“Let me show you what I’m gonna do to your wing!”

“Stop it, you insolent dolt! Stop it!!”

The fairy bravely flailed his little arms and legs, kicking up mud. He shrieked in a shrill, piercing voice.

However, the fairy hunter mercilessly squeezed the wing between his fingers.

Down in the mud, the fairy let out another scream.

“You filthy thievin’ fairy, I’ll kill ya!”

The hunter pulled harder, as if to tear the wing in half. That was the moment Anne stepped up behind him. She bent her knees and charged forward.

“Oh, excuse me!!”

The hem of Anne’s dress flew up as she shouted. With one foot, she delivered a powerful kick to the back of the fairy hunter’s knee. It was Anne’s signature move, her knockout blow—the knee buckler.

The fairy hunter was caught off guard, and his knee gave way immediately. He lost his balance. His mouth was still open in surprise when he fell face-first into the muddy street.

In the same instant that the curious onlookers burst into laughter, the fairy, suddenly released from under the man’s boot, sprang up nimbly. Anne hopped over the man’s head and quickly grabbed the fairy’s wing from his enslaver’s hand.

“Why, you!!” the hunter shouted, lifting his muddy face.

Anne effortlessly jumped out of his way. She extended the recovered wing to the fairy, who was standing there looking dazed.

“Here. This is yours, right?”

The fairy seemed startled, but he quickly snatched his wing back. His face was covered in mud, and only his blue eyes sparkled with a strange light.

The fairy looked up at Anne and shouted, “Tch! Don’t expect me to say thanks to a human!!”

Holding his wing tightly in his arms, he dashed past the feet of the onlookers, who gasped and made room for him to pass. The fairy cast a backward glance at the astonished crowd, then disappeared toward the outskirts of town like a swift wind.

Anne shrugged. “Oh well, I am one of those awful humans, I suppose.”

Dripping muddy water from his chin, the fairy hunter stood up and started shouting, “How’re you gonna repay me, little girl?! You just let my valuable worker fairy escape!!”

Anne turned to him and said, “But, mister, you were going to kill that fairy, weren’t you? So what does it matter as long as he’s gone?”

“What’d you say?!”

The enraged fairy hunter raised his arm.

But the crowd surrounding them immediately voiced their collective outrage.

“You’re an adult—are you going to raise your hand against a child?!”

“That girl is right!”

“You’re acting barbaric!!”

The man flinched under the harsh criticism of the crowd. Anne looked the man directly in the eye, without fear.

The fairy hunter let out a small groan and lowered his hand.

“Thank you,” Anne said sarcastically. “I’m glad you’re such a kind person. And since you’re so kind, I know that you’re going to treat fairies nicely from now on, too. How wonderful!” She smiled at him sweetly.

The fairy hunter’s expression was inscrutable, neither angry nor smiling.

“Bye, then!” Anne said a simple farewell to the fairy hunter, passed through the crowd that was praising her enthusiastically, and returned to her horse and wagon. “That makes me so mad. People are so cruel. Treating fairies badly just because they’re fairies!” Anne mumbled angrily.

Fairies are built a little differently from humans. But they have thoughts and feelings, and even speak human languages.

Anne didn’t think of them as being any different. Her conscience ached at the idea of using fairies as slaves.

That was why Emma had never employed a fairy.

We don’t use fairies.

That had been Emma and Anne’s belief. And yet—

Anne’s expression suddenly turned dark.

“…And yet…I’m on my way…to do something awful, too…”

Anne whipped the horse again, and the wagon started rolling.

When she reached the center of the city, she called out to several children who were playing nearby and handed them some coins. She asked them to keep an eye on her wagon for a little while. The children happily accepted.

Anne alighted from her wagon and headed for the round plaza.

There, she found a disorderly collection of tents.

The tents were made of cloth varnished with animal tallow, and they had a distinctive greasiness to them. Underneath were rows of all sorts of wares, from foodstuffs to cloth to copper tools. It was a marketplace, bustling with shoppers.

A pungent sweet and sour smell tickled Anne’s nose, drifting over from the tent where one could drink warm grape wine. From autumn through winter, it was a staple of the marketplace.

Anne passed through the crowded plaza, where people kept brushing shoulders, and emerged in an area with little pedestrian traffic.

This block was nearly deserted. There were plenty of shops set up but very few customers.

She looked at a nearby tent and saw several cages made of braided vines suspended from a horizontal bar.

Inside the cages were tiny fairies, each with only a single translucent wing on their back. Five or six of the cages hung in a row. The little fairies sitting inside regarded Anne with vacant eyes.

In an adjacent tent were three fairies covered in dense fur, about the size of puppies. They were bound together with chains linking their collars. Each had one wilted, transparent wing dangling from their back. The furry fairies bared their teeth and growled at Anne.

She was in the fairy marketplace.

Fairy hunters capture fairies in forests and fields and sell them to fairy dealers. The dealers pluck off one of each fairy’s wings, and after determining a suitable price for each piece of merchandise, the captives are then put up for sale in the fairy markets.

For someone headed to the royal capital, going through Redington was out of the way. The reason Anne had stopped by despite the detour was because she knew the town had a reputable fairy market.

Anne approached one of the tents and addressed the fairy dealer.

“Excuse me, do you have any warrior fairies for sale?”

The dealer shook his head. “I haven’t got any, no. Those things are dangerous.”

“Well then, do you know of anyone in this market who does have warrior fairies?”

“Just one place. The old man in that tent by the wall has one, but I wouldn’t recommend it, missy. It’s defective.”

“Is that so? Well, anyway, I’ll go take a look. Thanks.” Anne thanked the man and walked away.

Fairy dealers separate fairies into different categories for sale based on their abilities and appearances.

Most are sold for their labor as “worker fairies.”

Fairies who are especially lovely or rare are sold as “pet fairies” to serve as living ornaments.

Fairies who are particularly violent are used as escorts and bodyguards, so they are sold as “warrior fairies.”

Anne had come to the fairy market in order to purchase a warrior fairy.

After Redington, Anne was going to Lewiston to participate in the Royal Candy Fair.

The road that would take her from the western part of the kingdom, where Knoxberry and Redington were located, all the way to Lewiston was known as the Bloody Highway. It was a dangerous trail surrounded by wilderness, with no towns or villages along the way. Because the soil was poor, there were many bands of robbers driven by hunger, as well as countless wild beasts.

Even Emma had avoided the Bloody Highway on her travels.

There was another route, a safer road to Lewiston that one could follow by detouring to the south.

But that road wouldn’t get Anne to her destination in time for that year’s candy fair.

Anne wanted to make it there, no matter what it took. She knew her reasons were extremely sentimental, but if she didn’t cling to them and continue toward her goal, her legs were liable to buckle beneath her.

I am definitely going to become a Silver Sugar Master this year. I’ve made up my mind.

She looked up with determination.

In order to go down the Bloody Highway, Anne would need a bodyguard.

Unfortunately, she had been unable to find anybody she could trust.

That left a warrior fairy as her only option. Fairies cannot disobey the master who holds their wing. As bodyguards, they are extremely reliable.

Anne’s great wish was to become a Silver Sugar Master that year. In order to do so, she was prepared to bend her conviction not to enslave fairies.

When she got to the area the first dealer had pointed out, she stopped and looked around.

She wasn’t sure which tent had the warrior fairy for sale.

The one to her left held palm-sized fairies in suspended cages. They were likely being sold as worker fairies.

The tent to her right had adorable fairies, about the size of a grain of wheat, inside glass bottles on a table. At that size, there was no way they could be workers, so they were probably pet fairies—sold to children to play with, like toys.

Then at the end of the row, directly in front of her, was a tent that had only one fairy for sale.

The tent had a sheet of leather spread out under it, and the fairy was sitting on top of the sheet with one knee bent. There were chains around his ankles, attached to an iron stake driven into the ground.

The fairy looked like a young man and appeared to be about two heads taller than Anne.

He had on black pants and boots and a loose cloak. The all-black outfit was probably something the fairy dealer had dressed him in to boost his selling price. With his outfit, this fairy stood out from the rest.

He had black eyes and black hair. There was an intense aura about him. His pale skin, which looked like it had never so much as seen sunlight, was characteristic of fairies.

Upon his back was one flexible, translucent wing. It gave the impression of a veil, spread out on the leather mat.

The fairy certainly looked beautiful. There was something undeniably noble about him.

Anne had no doubt that this was a pet fairy. He seemed like he would fetch a high price as an ornament for a rich noblewoman.

The fairy had his eyes cast downward under dark, sleek bangs. The languid afternoon sunlight danced across his eyelashes.

Just looking at him sent a shiver up Anne’s spine.

The word beautiful doesn’t do him justice…

Anne stared at the fairy, drawn in by those long eyelashes. Suddenly, he looked up.

Their eyes met, and the fairy stared directly at Anne.

He frowned for a moment, as if considering something. However, he seemed to quickly figure out whatever it was that had been perplexing him and mumbled, “I thought I knew you from somewhere. You look like a scarecrow.”

He then abruptly averted his gaze from Anne, as if he had lost all interest.

“H…h-how rude… What a thing to say to a girl at the peak of her beauty!”

Anne clenched her fists in response to the fairy’s words.

“Yours doesn’t amount to much,” the fairy said bluntly, still looking away.

“What was that—?!”

The person selling the rude fairy was an elderly fairy dealer. He sat smoking a pipe beside the tent.

When he saw Anne getting angry, the fairy dealer spoke up. He sounded exasperated. “Sorry about him, miss. This one’s got a foul mouth. He says nasty things to anyone who walks by. Please don’t pay him any mind.”

“I do mind! This is probably none of my business, but you’ll never sell a pet fairy with a sharp tongue like that! Maybe you should give up on selling him already and just let him go?!”

“He’s no pet, miss. This here’s a warrior fairy.”

Anne’s eyes went wide. It seemed this was the tent she had been told about, the one with the warrior fairy for sale.

But she couldn’t believe it.

“A warrior fairy?! It can’t be! The way he looks, it would be more appropriate to sell him as a pet. I’ve seen warrior fairies before. They were incredibly large and built like boulders.”

“Well, he’s a warrior, all right, and a fine specimen. Three fairy hunters died catching him.”

Anne crossed her arms, openly suspicious. “The man over there said this fairy was defective. You say he’s a warrior fairy, but maybe you’re just making that up so you can off-load a foulmouthed pet fairy?”

“Reputation is a fairy dealer’s most important asset. We don’t lie.”

Anne looked back at the fairy.

The fairy returned her gaze. He wore a faint smile, as if amused by something.

It was a bold expression to make. He certainly didn’t look like an obedient fairy. He seemed the type to cause trouble, yet he didn’t look strong enough to be useful as a warrior.

“I want to get a warrior fairy, but…you don’t have any others besides him?” Anne asked.

The dealer shook his head. “Not many people deal in warrior fairies. You can only keep one at a time. He’s the only one I have to sell. And I may as well tell you, I’m the sole dealer of warrior fairies in this market. But if you go to Ribonpool, sixty karons north of here, there’s a merchant there who sells warrior fairies.”

“If I detour all the way to Ribonpool, I won’t make it in time for the Royal Candy Fair.” Anne groaned, biting her thumbnail.

“Hey. Scarecrow,” the fairy said abruptly.

Anne scowled at him.

“Scarecrow? I’m a maiden of fifteen, more vibrant than a flower! You can’t possibly be talking about me?!”

“Is there anyone else here? Don’t hesitate. Buy me.”

Anne was stunned for a moment.

“…Buy you…? Was that…an order?”

Surprised, the fairy dealer put his hands on his belly and laughed.

“Incredible! That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him tell someone to buy him. Did you fall in love with the young lady at first sight, boy? How ’bout this, miss? You’ve got no choice but to buy him now, right? I’ll give you a great bargain, only one hundred cress. If he wasn’t so crude, I would have sold him as a pet fairy. I bet someone would want him as one, even if I asked for three hundred cress.”

“That’s only if he didn’t have a foul mouth, of course.”

But the price the fairy dealer had suggested was certainly cheap. Warrior fairies and pet fairies are not very common, so they fetch high prices. One hundred cress is one piece of gold. Purchasing a warrior fairy for that price would be an incredible bargain.

“Listen, fairy. If you’re bold enough to tell me to buy you, you must have confidence in your skills as a warrior, right?”

When Anne asked, a glint of light flashed across the fairy’s eyes, and he looked up at her.

“What would you have me do?”

“Guard me. When I leave here, I’m headed for Lewiston, alone. I want you to protect me along the road.”

The fairy smiled confidently. “Easy. And maybe while I’m at it, I could perform extra services. A kiss, perhaps?”

“Don’t look so smug. I have no need of any such ‘services.’ And anyway, I would never give up my very first kiss so cheaply.”

“So you’re a child.”

“Well, excuse me! For being a child!”

Anne certainly would have preferred a more serious, docile warrior fairy. But she didn’t have time to make a detour to Ribonpool. Anne made up her mind.

There’s no other choice!! He might be a little rude, but I can’t afford to be picky.

She pulled out a little pouch from her dress pocket, opened it, and grabbed the single gold coin that was mixed in with all the copper.

“Mister, I’ll buy this fairy.”

“Heh-heh, you made up your mind, missy?” The dealer smiled, showing yellowed teeth.

Anne held out the gold coin, and the fairy dealer took and examined it. Then, he removed a small leather bag from around his neck.

“All right then, check the wing.”

The fairy dealer opened the mouth of the little leather bag and pulled out something that looked like a transparent square of cloth, folded up to about the size of Anne’s hand. He held the tip of it and gave it one good shake. When he did, the folded-up square gently unfurled.

A wing about as long as Anne was tall appeared before her eyes. It was so beautiful, she hesitated to touch it. As the light shifted, the transparent membrane shimmered a rainbow of colors. Despite having been folded like fine cloth, it retained no wrinkles or creases. Anne reached out to touch it gently and found it had a texture like silk. The softness made her shudder.

“This is his wing?”

“Sure is. Here, I’ll prove it.”

True to his word, the fairy dealer gripped the edge and the center of the wing and twisted it forcefully. The moment he did, the fairy under the tent groaned.

The warrior wrapped his arms around himself, and his whole body went stiff. He clenched his teeth.

“Stop!! I get it, that’s enough!!”

At Anne’s words, the dealer loosened his grip.

The fairy weakly put one hand on the ground. When he looked up, he glared hatefully at his captor.

The fairy dealer folded the wing back up, put it back into its bag, and handed it to Anne.

“Wear this around your neck, close to your body. And be careful. If this bag falls out of your hands, you don’t know what the fairy might do. An acquaintance of mine accidentally let a warrior fairy in his employ steal their wing back and got himself killed. Warrior fairies are violent. That’s why they’re sold as such. If he gets his wing back, he’s not going to just run away. There’s a high chance he’ll kill his master.”

“But then what should I do when I’m sleeping? Won’t he kill me in my sleep or something?”

“When you’re turning in, make sure to hide the wing under your clothing and sleep holding it.”

“And then I’ll be all right?”

“Think about it. Imagine someone keeping a tight grip on your heart. If in the moment you killed them, that person squeezed and crushed your precious heart… Especially since fairy wings are so fragile, you see? They’re scared and can’t make any reckless moves. The idea of you hurting their wings terrifies fairies on an instinctual level. You saw the pain it caused this one just now, didn’t you?”

Anne had indeed seen how he’d suffered, and she doubted that he’d be able to raise a hand against her.

However, Anne wasn’t happy about the thought of controlling a fairy with fear and pain.

“Be careful, especially with this one. Up to now, every time I’ve tried to sell him, he’s spat insults like you couldn’t imagine out of that pretty mouth and angered the customer. I haven’t been able to get rid of him. I don’t know what kind of whim made him want you to buy him, but it’s a miracle.”

“Is he that much of a pain?!”

“You want to back out of the deal?”

Anne thought about it for a second, then shook her head.

“I don’t have time to go to Ribonpool. I’ll buy him.”

“That’s great. Handle the wing carefully. Whatever you do, don’t let him get it back.”

Anne nodded, and the fairy dealer unlocked the shackles on the fairy’s ankles.

The fairy wore a faint, shrewd smile as he whispered to the dealer, “You just wait. Someday, I’ll come back to kill you.”

“That’s fine. I look forward to the day.”

Accepting the fairy’s unsettling words of parting, the dealer finished removing his chains.

The fairy stood up. He was tall. His wing, reflecting the colors of a rainbow when it caught the sunlight, stretched down to the back of his knees.

“Now then, I bought you, so first of all, nice to meet you,” Anne said.

The fairy smiled with his beautiful face. “You must be well-off if you’re carrying gold around…scarecrow.”

“Don’t call me scarecrow! I’m Anne!”

The fairy dealer looked worried, watching their exchange.

“Miss, are you really gonna be able to handle him?”

“She can handle me. Right, scarecrow?” It was the fairy who answered.

When she saw him looking down on her mockingly, Anne shouted again, “My name is Anne! Anne Halford! Next time you call me scarecrow, you’re gonna get it good!”

“…Looks like you’ll be fine,” the fairy dealer muttered.

Glaring at the fairy, Anne huffed through her nose as she replied, “Yes! I’ll be fine! Don’t you worry, old man. All right, you come with me.”

“Say, what’s your name?” Anne asked the fairy sitting next to her as she prodded the horse onward from atop her wagon.

Her bodyguard was leaning back against the wagon with his long legs drawn up and his arms folded across his chest, looking arrogant. Between Anne, who was busily handling the horse, and the fairy, the latter looked a hundred times more self-important.

The fairy glanced over at Anne as if she was a nuisance.

“What good will it do to tell you?”

“I mean, I don’t know what to call you, do I?”

“You can call me Tom or Sam or whatever human-style name you like.”

Normally, when a human acquires a fairy, the owner gives them a name. But Anne didn’t want to do that. She thought being addressed by anything else must be humiliating.

“If it were me, I would want to be called by my real name. Don’t you feel the same? I don’t want to pick something random to call you. So tell me.”

“I don’t care what you call me. Don’t ask such a silly thing. Give me whatever name you like. Call me anything.”

The fairy looked away uncooperatively. Anne glanced over at his profile and said, “Fine, how about Crow?”

As one might expect, the fairy regarded Anne with an incredibly disagreeable expression.

“To get back at me for ‘scarecrow’?”

“That’s right. Crow.”

The fairy frowned. After a moment of silence, he muttered, “Challe Fenn Challe.”

“That’s your name?”

The fairy nodded. Anne smiled.

“What a pretty name. It’s much better than Crow. Challe Fenn Challe… Which part is your first name, and which part is your last name?”

“The whole thing is just…my name. Unlike with humans, there’s no distinction between first and last names.”

“Oh really? But Challe Fenn Challe is too long, so…I think I’ll just call you Challe. Is that all right?”

“I told you to call me whatever you like. You are my master, aren’t you?”

“Well…that’s true.”

Hearing that come out of the fairy’s mouth again didn’t make Anne feel good. She felt intensely guilty about purchasing and employing her own slave.

Anne steered her wagon away from the town of Redington. They were making progress toward the Bloody Highway.

The fields of wheat, with drooping heads ready for harvest, gradually gave way to sparse forest on either side of the road.

Sensing they were getting close to the Bloody Highway, Anne spoke up.

“Challe, I bought you so that I could have a bodyguard. But I’ll make you a promise. If we make it down the Bloody Highway and arrive safely in Lewiston, I’ll give you your wing back.”

When he heard that, Challe looked at Anne suspiciously.

“Are you saying you’ll release me?”

“Yes.”

Challe looked stunned for a moment, but soon, he chuckled. “You’re going to release a fairy you paid good money for? Is anyone really that naive?”

“It’s rude to call me naive. I simply think that humans and fairies can be friends. I don’t like the idea of putting a potential friend to work. I needed a reliable escort on very short notice, and having nowhere else to turn, I purchased you, Challe. But I don’t want to use you if I don’t have to. Of course, I don’t want to sell you to another human, either. So I’m going to give your wing back. By making this promise, I hope to be able to treat you like any other friend accompanying me on a journey.”

“Friend? We can’t be friends.”

Anne sighed at his cold response.

“You’re probably right, but…it’s just, that was something Mama and I believed. But ideals and dreams won’t ever become reality if we don’t act on them. So I’m doing just that, taking action.”

“Your head really is as empty as a scarecrow’s. I’ll show you how foolish you’re being once we get to Lewiston.”

“I thought I told you not to call me a scarecrow?!”

Anne’s hand flew through the air, but Challe easily dodged it. Anne bit her lower lip in frustration.

“If you think I’m so stupid, then why did you tell me to buy you? I wouldn’t want to get ordered around by someone I thought was an idiot.”

“All you humans are the same. It’s easier on me to be under the control of a half-wit. And of all the humans I’ve had the misfortune of laying eyes on over the past few years, you seem by far the biggest fool.”

“…Somehow…I feel really depressed after talking to you…”

Anne fully understood why Challe had remained unsold for so long.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to endure being under his protection if he was going to verbally abuse her so badly.

The breeze fluttering the lace at her cuffs suddenly turned cold.

Anne recognized the rough, rocky road stretching out before them. It was the Bloody Highway. Her wagon rolled slowly onto it.

The tall, boxy wagon rocked back and forth as the wheels rolled over the stones.

The sky was a clear blue, but the air was cold. The Bloody Highway was surrounded by tall mountains, and the wind blowing down from them carried the chill of the heights with it.

As far as the eye could see, the land was a wilderness, rustling with dry, brown grass.

There were scattered stands of trees, but the soil was obviously barren.

There were no villages or towns along the Bloody Highway. The officials in charge of each province it passed through did maintain their respective sections, but that responsibility did not extend to controlling bandits or wild beasts along the path. There were only two actual requirements.

The first was to perform maintenance once per year to insure that plant life did not obstruct the road.

The second was to build a series of simple forts known as way stations, where travelers could make camp.

The Bloody Highway was dangerous, but those measures at least made it functional.

Anne possessed detailed maps of the whole kingdom. They were indispensable for travel, and Emma had always treated them with great care, adding new information as she went to make sure they were always up to date.

Anne could tell from the map of the western provinces that there was a way station nearby. The sun was setting, and she had to hurry to make it there. She somehow managed to arrive before sunset.

The way station was just a square courtyard surrounded by tall stone walls in the middle of a copse of trees. There was no roof. The gate housed an iron door that could be raised and lowered using chains. The overgrown grassy area inside was spacious, with enough room to fit five horse-drawn wagons at night.

In short, travelers could take refuge behind the walls, hiding themselves from bandits and beasts.

Anne parked her wagon in the way station and pulled the iron door closed behind her.

She was understandably exhausted from being jolted around on a wagon for the first time in six months, and she decided to go to bed early.

Anne pulled out two of the leather mats and blankets that she kept stuffed under the seat of the wagon. One set was for her, and she spread that one out beside the wagon. She handed the other set to Challe.

“You can choose where you want to sleep. Lay that out for bedding. And here’s dinner. Sorry it’s not much, but we can’t afford luxury while we’re traveling.”

Next, Anne handed Challe a wooden cup full of grape wine and a single apple.

Dinner was frugal, in consideration of future travel.

Anne wrapped herself up in her blanket and bit into her apple, which she finished in seconds. Flinging the core as far as she could, she downed her wine in one gulp. As the bitter liquid hit her stomach, it immediately transformed into warmth. She felt her ears growing hot as she curled up on her leather mat.

Challe spread his mat out a short distance from Anne and sat down, placing the blanket over his lap. He held his cup of wine in his hand and looked up at the moon.

It was a full moon that night. The silver glow illuminated Challe’s face.

Bathed in moonlight, the fairy’s beauty was enhanced all the more. He had the luster of a precious gem wet with dew.

The translucent wing on his back glimmered with a peaceful, pale-green color.

Unlike the one that had been torn off, the wing on Challe’s back seemed to subtly change color and sheen based on his mood.

I wonder if they’re cold? Or are they warm?

Anne felt an overwhelming desire to touch it.

“Fairies’ wings are so beautiful. Could I touch yours?”

Anne reached out her hand as she asked. When she did, a shudder ran through Challe’s wing, which made a faint sound as it shook. Then it flapped, beating the grass two or three times.

Anne retracted her hand in surprise and saw Challe’s sharp eyes looking her way.

“Don’t touch! You may hold the other, but this one’s mine.”

Challe’s cold rage reminded Anne that she held his other wing hostage and that, to fairies, their wings were as precious as life itself.

“I’m sorry. I… That was thoughtless of me.”

Anne apologized meekly and gripped the strings of the leather bag dangling on her chest.

Fairies’ wings are the source of their life force. They are what hearts are to humans. Anne had another person’s heart in her hands, and she was threatening to crush it if he didn’t follow her orders.

That was what Anne was doing. From a fairy’s perspective, her actions must have seemed entirely monstrous.

Anne sighed softly.

I shouldn’t do things like that.

She wondered if she could get Challe to listen to her requests without resorting to such behavior.

Maybe if I could befriend him? If I did that, there would be no need to order him around.

She wondered if there was any way to get him to cooperate with her requests of his own volition.

“Hey, Challe? I’ve got a proposal,” Anne said, sitting up a bit. “I mentioned it this afternoon, but couldn’t we try to be friends?”

“Are you stupid?”

Challe answered dismissively and turned away.

Anne dejectedly covered her head with her blanket.

I guess it’s impossible right away. But I have a feeling that if I treat him well and with sincerity, he’ll understand in time. Anyway, I wonder what he was thinking about when he was looking up at the moon? His eyes looked so bright…

Anne’s eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep.

In the pleasant darkness, Anne had a dream.

In it, she was camping out under the stars as usual.

Anne was wrapped up in her blanket, and Emma was going in and out of the wagon, working busily.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her mother there before her eyes. With that relief came a single line of hot tears streaming down her cheek.

“My, my, what’s wrong, Anne? Are you in pain?”

“No, I had a terrible dream. An awful nightmare that you died, Mama.”

“You silly thing. If you had such a scary dream, you must not be feeling very well. Let me check your temperature.”

Emma’s cold fingers gently probed Anne’s forehead. Her mother’s fingers had always been slender and cool. It was because she chilled them in water when working with silver sugar, which melted quickly.

Those fingers seemed unbearably lovely and ephemeral. Without thinking, Anne grasped them tightly.

“Mama, please. Don’t go!”

Anne woke with a start, roused by her own shouting.

She realized she had been dreaming. But the fingers Anne had grasped were real. She saw Challe’s face, which was so close that she could feel his breath. His black hair was nearly brushing her cheek.

“Wh-what?!”

She pushed his hand away and sprang up.

Don’t tell me this is more of that smug extra “service” of his?!

Challe smirked and got up. His smile was cold.

Anne realized that this was unlikely to be the service Challe had suggested.

What on earth was he…? Just now, he was going for my neck…

“Were you…?”

At that moment, Anne noticed that the leather strap hanging around her neck was sticking out of her collar—the strap of the bag containing Challe’s wing.

“Challe. Don’t tell me…you were trying to steal your wing back?”

“I almost had it, too,” he said, without a hint of shame.

“So you were trying to steal it? How mean…”

“How so?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I want to be your friend, Challe. And yet…”

Anne honestly wanted to befriend Challe. She felt he had betrayed her in spite of that, which made her sad.

Challe looked at Anne moping and chuckled. “You want to be my friend? The kind of friend who holds my life in her hands?”

His words startled her.

“You purchased me. You’re putting me to work. We can never be friends.”

If Anne was really going to put her ideals into practice, she would have to return the wing, ask for Challe’s companionship, and then seek his cooperation. That was what she would have to do.

But she was frankly afraid to return his wing. So Anne held his life in her hands while claiming she wanted to be friends. Even she had to admit it was selfish. Given that was the nature of their relationship, they could never be friends.

As long as Anne held Challe’s wing, she was his master.

Challe had just been trying to reclaim his wing from his captor. It was only natural for a fairy like him.

Anne was wrong to feel betrayed.

As Challe’s master, Anne had simply been childish and careless enough to give him the opportunity.

“…I am a fool, aren’t I?”

Anne sighed softly. She had only imagined that she wanted to be friends to make herself feel more comfortable. She realized how insensitive and stupid she had been.

“I have to go to Lewiston. It’s too dangerous a gamble to give you your wing back and then ask you to protect me until we get there. That’s why I was determined to hire you, but in a way, I was naive. Telling you I wanted to become friends…was a dumb thing to say.”

Anne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She then reopened them.

“If I can get you to cooperate with me so I can make it safely to Lewiston, then I’ll return your wing. You can’t trust that I’ll keep my promise, so you tried to steal it back, right? Or was it because you can’t stand being controlled by a human, even for a short while? Either way is fine, but I’m not going to be so careless going forward, so forget about it.”

Anne looked up at the fairy, who wore a blank expression. He didn’t respond.

“While I’m at it, let me add that I’m still going to keep my promise. Once we get to Lewiston, I’ll return your wing. After that, I’ll ask you to be my friend for real. Until then, I am your master.”

Challe snorted and turned his back. The wing on his back reflecting the moonlight was pitifully lonesome.

He looked up at the evening sky and mused, “What a beautiful moon.”

I failed.

Challe Fenn Challe was looking up at the moon, but he could feel Anne’s presence as she lay behind him. He could tell how tense she was. In that state, even if she fell asleep again, she was liable to wake just feeling him approach. It would be impossible to attempt to steal his wing again that night.

However, he was not impatient.

Challe had fallen into the hands of a fairy hunter and been sold from human to human.

He always spent his time fantasizing about killing his master and fleeing. He thought of nothing else.

But it wasn’t that easy. The humans he had known were cruel and wary.

When he was put up for sale in the fairy market in Redington, he decided to get himself purchased by the most idiotic human possible. He figured that if he was bought by some blockhead, he could kill them or maybe take his wing back without them noticing, then make his escape.

Except all the customers interested in warrior fairies seemed shrewd and ruthless. So every time the fairy dealer tried to bargain with a customer, Challe hurled the nastiest abuse and angered every one of them.

He had been sitting under the stall, wondering what kind of customer would show up that day, hoping they were moronic, when suddenly, he caught a whiff of a sweet scent. It reminded him of the aroma of silver sugar.

When he looked up, there was a skinny girl with hair the color of barley staring down at him.

The girl had said she wanted to buy a warrior fairy. It was a golden opportunity.

The moment Anne decided to purchase him, Challe had smiled to himself.

A childish little girl who talked nonsense about treating fairies like friends and becoming pals and so on. He wouldn’t even have to soil his blade with her blood. He’d imagined that he could simply steal his wing.

Yet Anne had proven herself more perceptive than he’d thought.

When he failed to steal his wing back, Challe had resigned himself to some sort of punishment, some torture inflicted on his captive wing.

But Anne hadn’t punished him. Far from it, she’d repeated her promise that she would return his wing once they reached Lewiston, insisting she would become his friend after she did.

It was strange. He didn’t know what she was thinking. But—

No matter what it is, she’s an idiot.

With such a naive young girl, Challe was sure to have plenty of opportunities. He was in no hurry.

For nearly seventy years, he had been under the continuous control of humans. He didn’t care whether his freedom was one day away or three.

Suddenly, he smelled that sweet scent again. He glanced behind him. Sure enough, the aroma was coming from Anne’s hair and fingertips. The smell of silver sugar stirred his memories and awakened his senses.

Challe unconsciously put his fingers to his mouth. He imagined a sweet sensation that he had known in the distant past. The pleasure of having his wings gently stroked. Gentle hands. His body recalling the feeling, he let out an involuntary sigh.

Liz…

Behind him, Anne turned over in her sleep. Startled by her movement, Challe pulled his fingers away from his lips.

He glanced over his shoulder at Anne. Her eyes were closed.

“Mama, please. Don’t go!”

Anne had shouted those words earlier before waking. Challe suddenly felt suspicious about that.

Who is making a child like this travel alone? What is that mother of hers doing?

The hand that had gripped Challe’s fingers felt very fragile.

For some reason, the feeling of her touch stuck in his mind.