Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 4 - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

GLOW OF CELEBRATION

It took half a day to travel to Lewiston by wagon. The Selection was to be held in the afternoon, two days from now. Normally, if they left Millsfield the morning of the same day, they could have joined the Selection with time to spare.

But Anne’s party set out the afternoon of the day after the sculpture was completed.

“You guys really are foolish. Of course I’m going. What would you do without me there?”

Sitting in the driver’s seat, Elliott tediously and proudly repeated himself.

Orlando was holding the reins. He looked to be gritting his teeth as he glared at Elliott.

“We get it, so shut up, Elliott. And don’t sit so absurdly close to me. You’re crushing me.”

After Orlando said that, Elliott further harassed him by moving even closer to him, to the point where their shoulders were touching.

“Oh, you get it? Great, that makes me so happy. It’s nice that Orlando is so cooperative, right, King?” Elliott said.

“Be quiet, or I’ll kick you in the gut,” spat King, who was riding in the cargo hold.

Orlando was driving a huge, two-horse wagon. It was owned by a blacksmith, and Elliott had obtained it through the guild system. In the back were King, Valentine, and Nadir. Anne, Challe, and Mithril were also riding along.

They had departed the day before the Selection, just in case, for the sake of the candy.

Their completed piece was incredibly delicate and would easily break if handled roughly. Any intense rocking of the wagon would be more than enough to do it. There was no other way but to drive the horses slowly and move the wagon at a snail’s pace.

They were going at a preposterously slow speed. A distance that normally took half a day would take twice that.

Moreover, placing a protective cloth directly on the candy sculpture was out of the question. So at Elliott’s suggestion, they had quickly assembled a frame out of thin tree branches. They’d placed it around the candy and covered everything with a protective cloth.

Elliott had been taking digs at them all day, making fun of them for not having taken into consideration how to transport the sculpture.

Even now, King, Valentine, Nadir, and Anne were all making sure that the protective cloth didn’t blow in the breeze—which would damage the sugar candy—by firmly holding down the edges of the fabric.

“I really hate that we can’t talk back to him,” Valentine said.

“Oh? Why not?” Nadir responded nonchalantly. “All Elliott did was say we should make a frame out of branches, right? We’re definitely more amazing. We created something the likes of someone like Elliott could never make.”

“I can hear youuu, Nadir.”

Elliott glanced back, and Nadir grinned.

“That’s because I said it loud enough for you to hear!”

“…Um. For now, everyone, let’s pay attention to what we’re doing. The wagon’s swaying…”

As she held down the cloth, Anne spoke to the excited candy crafters, who seemed like they were about to start an argument.

Mithril was also trying to help by holding down an edge of the fabric. But Challe was just sitting on the side of the cargo hold with one knee up, staring intently out at the world around them.

“Hey, Challe Fenn Challe. You help, too!” Mithril said in a huff.

But Challe didn’t even look his way; he kept his eyes trained on their surroundings.

“I have no intention of helping,” he answered bluntly. “I was ordered to be a guard.”

“I get that it’s not any fun having your wing in the hands of a human, but that doesn’t mean you can sulk all day.”

“That job doesn’t require more than four people.”

“It’s a matter of camaraderie, camaraderie!”

“In that case, it’s even less necessary.”

“You’ve got zero spirit of cooperation!”

Mithril was fuming, but Anne noticed that Challe’s tone was different from usual. He wasn’t sulking and refusing to help with Anne’s work.

Rather, he didn’t want to be tied down by something so that he could concentrate on protecting them.

Challe kept his keen gaze directed at their surroundings. He was staying alert so he could move immediately if anything happened.

He was probably on guard against the robber who had attacked Elliott and then gone after the other candy crafters who frequented this highway.

A fairy who had appeared saying they could smell silver sugar. Their motives weren’t clear, which made it even eerier.

The road was level, with fields and farmhouses visible here and there. It was an extremely peaceful landscape.

They passed a constant stream of wagons and people. But that number decreased dramatically just after midday.

Though it was a comparatively safe road, no one wanted to travel down it at night. Moreover, candy crafters were still being attacked. Everyone was trying to get off the road before the sun went down.

Across the expansive wheat fields was a distant mountain range. The tops of the mountains were tinted slightly pink. The sun was sinking, and its orange light was shining straight into their eyes.

“The sun will set very soon.”

“Well then, I wonder what’s our best plan of action? What’s the warrior fairy’s opinion?” Elliott casually asked as he scowled at the sinking evening sun.

“We should keep the wagon moving just like this and continue onward to Lewiston. There’s a full moon tonight. Good visibility.”

Orlando tilted his head, puzzled by Challe’s answer. “Staying up all night driving down the road?” he asked. “But we’re perfectly prepared to make use of a way station.”

“If the fairy who appeared on the highway said they could smell silver sugar, then we can count on them to show up because of it. They’ll definitely come. We’d be better off getting as much distance behind us as we can before then.”

The candy crafters were obviously startled by his answer.

Challe stared blankly out over the already-harvested fields of wheat, which were tinted crimson.

Catching the setting sun, his wing shone gold. It had a stiff brilliance to it, which seemed to speak to his nervousness.

It made Anne anxious to see Challe so uneasy.

Mithril seemed to feel the same way as Anne as they exchanged looks.

Challe was strong. The two knew that quite well. So seeing him on edge told them the enormity of the danger.

The horse-drawn wagon proceeded slowly down the highway. The sun set, and twilight fell, blotting out the heavens with darkness in the blink of an eye.

Nothing changed until midnight. The moon was bright, and just as Challe had said, there was no issue driving. The white stones in the road stood out in the moonlight.

It was nearly midwinter. The moonlight was shining down, and there were no sounds of insects. And thanks to the cold, the air felt extra crisp.

Whenever the wind blew, distant groves of trees made rustling sounds.

Suddenly, Challe looked ahead.

Orlando pulled on the reins and brought the wagon carefully to a stop.

There was a figure on the road straight ahead of them.

They were wearing an olive-brown hooded cloak that went down to their ankles. They were as tall as Challe. Their hood was pulled down low, obscuring their face. But the tip of a pale chin was visible as well as some loose red hair that sparkled almost transparently.

Anne shuddered when she laid eyes on the figure. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt frightened.

The other candy crafters had also tensed up.

“It’s them,” Elliott said almost reflexively.

“They’re…bad news,” King groaned.

King seemed like he was used to fights and could easily judge his opponent’s abilities.

Challe stood up silently. He jumped down softly from the wagon.

“Challe…?”

In response to Anne’s trembling voice, Challe maintained his blank expression and kept his gaze fixed ahead. “The wagon cannot outrun them. I will lead them far away. While I do that, you go on ahead. Do not stop,” he said.

“But, Challe, you—”

“I will come after you. Go.”

Challe ended their conversation and slowly set out from the front of the wagon. He casually opened his right hand. Beads of light sparkled in the dark, and a silvery blade appeared. When it did, the figure in front of them seemed to smile a little.

“I thought I smelled the strong scent of silver sugar. So you brought a bodyguard with you?”

The person in the cloak extended both arms in front of their chest. On top of their hands, beads of light began to gather.

The moment he saw that, Challe dropped low with his sword in one hand and ran. In the blink of an eye, he had closed the distance between himself and his opponent and was sweeping sideways at the cloaked figure. But they leaped to the side of the road and avoided his attack.

With another swing, Challe sent his blade flashing through the air, slashing at his opponent’s torso, and shouted, “Go!”

The cloaked figure jumped out of the way of Challe’s blade again and were now farther away from the road.

Seizing the opportunity, Orlando whipped the horses.

He couldn’t allow them to break into a full gallop. But Orlando drove the horses forward with as much speed as he dared. Cold sweat covered his forehead.

“Challe!” Anne shouted from atop the cargo hold when the wagon began to move.

Mithril jumped up on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Anne,” he said. “Challe Fenn Challe is obsidian. More important than his fight is transporting this candy to Lewiston. For the sake of Challe Fenn Challe’s freedom, too. Believe in him—he’s strong!”

Anne was startled by the earnest look in Mithril’s eyes.

“Believe?”

She turned around to look behind her once again. The wagon passed by the spot where Challe and the robber were facing off. Challe’s figure was already behind them. She could see his back. His wing, giving off the same vivid crispness as his blade in the moonlight, was stretched taut from apprehension.

Beads of light were gathering ever so finely in the robber’s palms. They formed a bundle of what looked like needles, glistening with a reddish-silver color.

Anne had a bad feeling about it. Challe was strong. But his opponent was also strong. Something about the robber was not normal. That was the feeling she got. There was no way that Challe hadn’t been able to sense their strength when even Anne had recognized it.

But he had said to go. He was surely going to fight. She didn’t want him to fight against a dangerous opponent. But if they didn’t let him, what would become of them?

Ultimately, in her powerlessness, Anne had no choice but to rely on Challe. She gripped the cloth in frustration and shame, protecting the sugar candy.

But as powerless as she was, there was still something she could do. She could enter the Selection with their sugar candy sculpture and get Challe’s wing back. At the moment, the best thing she could do was simply pray.

“I believe in you, so…Challe, come back. Don’t fail.”

If Challe wasn’t around, none of this would mean anything.

She wanted to protect the sugar candy sculpture for the sake of Challe’s freedom.

Strange.

Dry, withered grass rustled around Challe’s ankles as he faced off against the cloaked figure across an open field. He was suspicious of how still his opponent was.

Though Challe had his sword at the ready, they showed no signs of attacking with the silvery-red threads in their hands.

He figured those threads must be weapons. The other fairy could manipulate them at will to cut their opponent. Of course, Elliott hadn’t been able to see the threads. They only appeared to human eyes as streaks of light. Considering the special properties of those weapons, the other fairy had the advantage when fighting from a distance. Challe would have expected them to attack before he closed in on them.

The other fairy watched the wagon go. It rolled away much too slowly to really be called an escape.

“So the humans have gone.”

It was a soft voice. With elegant, calm movements, the fairy gripped the bundle of silvery-red threads and lowered their hand. It was not a fighting stance.

“Obsidian, huh? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another gemstone,” they continued. “I have no intention of fighting. I’m here to help you.”

Challe frowned at the unexpected words.

“Did you hear me? I said I’m here to help you,” the fairy murmured gently, as if they pitied Challe.

Though he remained cautious, Challe relaxed his stance and held his sword down by his side.

The other fairy was smiling. Challe could only see their mouth under the edge of the hood. They approached him slowly.

“Which of those humans is holding your wing? Once I know that, I’ll go and recover it for you.”

“What gives you the right to ask about others’ wings? Who exactly is your master?”

At that, the other fairy chuckled.

“My wing is in my own hands.”

“Meaning you are a free fairy?”

Fairies who are bought and sold as warrior fairies have great combat abilities. If their masters are negligent, they can take back their wings. Sometimes, they will from a careless master, then kill them and escape. Challe reasoned this fairy was likely one of those.

“I am free. But living alone is inconvenient in many ways. I’ve been thinking it might not be bad to have another companion or two. Obsidian would be good. Strong. So I will help you. I’ll chase down that group and take your wing back. Then I’ll kill every one of them and steal their sugar candy. That candy seems large. I want to see what kind of candy it is. If it’s good, I want it for myself.”

“You want sugar candy?”

“That and a Silver Sugar Master. Is there a Silver Sugar Master among that group?”

Challe laughed.

“I see. So that’s it!”

As he said that, he raised his sword again.

His opponent looked unprepared, but even so, they leaped out of the way instantly. But a straight, vertical cut suddenly appeared in the right arm of their cloak. Beads of sparkling silver-red light fountained from the wound. It was the shining energy that leaked out from fairies’ wounds. To compare it to humans, it was like blood.

“Unfortunately, no one is going to give you what you want.”

Challe smiled coldly, holding his blade at his side.

The other fairy groaned and clutched at their right arm.

“You don’t have to follow human orders. Do you not understand that I’m here to save you?”

“I already know who’s going to save me. I promised I would wait. I have no need for the likes of you.”

“Were you…deliberately closing the distance between us?” the fairy grumbled bitterly.

Challe had pretended to listen to what they’d been saying so that he could get close to his opponent, who seemed to specialize in long-distance attacks. He had put them at a disadvantage by getting close.

Under the moonlight, Challe’s wing shone the same silver as his blade.

His opponent smiled widely.

“Fascinating.”

The other fairy jumped away, still clutching their injured arm. Seemingly without regard for their injury, they kept their grip on the cluster of silvery-red threads in their right hand. Then they drew out one of the threads with their left hand and held it at the ready in front of their face.

Challe readied his sword as well.

At the same moment that Challe leaped forward, his opponent swiftly lashed out with the thread in their left hand. A thin, high-pitched sound echoed in the chilly air.

The crafters were anxious to move, but they couldn’t make the wagon go any faster.

“Orlando! Speed up!” Nadir shouted angrily, frustrated by their incredibly slow pace.

“He can’t!” Elliott answered immediately. “The candy sculpture will break!”

Orlando, who was sitting beside him driving the wagon, also appeared to be desperately suppressing his panic. He was gritting his teeth. It required quite a bit of effort to control himself and not set the horses running under their current circumstances.

“But what will we do if that robber catches up to us?” Valentine asked.

“If this candy breaks, we’ll lose everything! Quit makin’ a fuss!” King yelled in response. But even as he shouted, he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“It’s all right, everyone,” Anne said in a firm voice. “We have Challe on our side. Challe won’t let that fairy take a single step closer to us.”

With those words, everyone’s eyes turned to Anne.

Mithril, who was sitting on her shoulder, also nodded. “Challe Fenn Challe is made from obsidian. He’s exceptionally strong, even among fairies.”

That didn’t mean they had total confidence in him, but that they chose to believe in him.

No one pursued the slowly advancing wagon. The sky was beginning to lighten by the time they made it off the road.

They all felt relieved once they made it to the end of the highway and could see Lewiston in the distance.

If they had gotten that far, the robber was unlikely to come after them.

The sky was covered in thick clouds. They looked heavy, like snow clouds, and were sweeping low across the horizon. The sun was up, but thanks to those clouds, their surroundings were illuminated in a faint gray light.

Even so, it was undoubtedly daybreak. The scenery around them gradually became clear.

Anne turned around and looked back at the road.

The fact that the fairy didn’t come after us must mean that Challe stopped them. But…why hasn’t Challe returned?

Anne shook her head to dispel her worries. She had decided to believe in Challe. She admonished herself once more to trust in him.

Early in the morning, their wagon entered the city of Lewiston.

The Selection was that afternoon. It was to be held in the sanctuary of the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell.

A cold wind blew through the streets of Lewiston, which were dim where sunlight had yet to reach.

The scenery was drab and gray.

That day, regular services had been canceled for the morning at the church. That time was meant for crafters from each faction to carry in their sugar candies and prepare for the Selection.

There were already two large horse-drawn wagons parked in front of the sanctuary. They were stationed some distance away from each other, so they probably belonged to the Radcliffe Workshop and the Mercury Workshop. Each wagon had about ten crafters around it busily running about. It was taking time to unload the sugar candy sculptures stowed in the cargo holds of each wagon.

When their wagon pulled up in front of the sanctuary, the crafters from each of the other workshops looked at them in surprise. Their whispering was audible.

“That’s the Paige Workshop.”

“Don’t tell me they’re participating in the Selection?”

When Orlando parked the wagon in front of the sanctuary, a clergyman who had been standing in the doorway came over.

Elliott alighted from the wagon and went to greet the clergyman.

“And whom do I have the pleasure of welcoming?”

“I am the proxy for Glen Paige, the maestro of the Paige Workshop. My name is Elliott Collins. We are from the main studio of the Paige Workshop. We have brought a sugar candy sculpture to enter in the Selection,” Elliott said with a cheerful, lively smile.

The clergyman looked surprised.

“The Paige Workshop? Will be participating?”

“Yes.”

“How very…unusual…”

The clergyman gaped at Elliott for a moment, but he soon seemed to remember his duties. He briskly issued instructions.

“Very well then, take your candy sculpture inside the sanctuary. Please set it in front of the altar. We’ve instructed the Radcliffe Workshop and the Mercury Workshop to line theirs up starting from the right-hand side, so yours will be on the far left. Then only the proxy maestro and the head crafter may take a seat in the first row. After you have set up your candy sculpture, the other candy crafters are permitted to sit and watch from the back pews if they wish. Provided that they remain silent.”

Once the clergyman had left, Elliott exchanged looks with all the other crafters.

Anne stood first, then the other four candy crafters simultaneously stood up.

As they were preparing to move their sugar sculpture, Marcus Radcliffe ran over in what looked like a panic from near one of the wagons that had arrived before them.

“Collins!”

As soon as Marcus located Elliott, he shouted out his name.

“What’s the meaning of this, Collins?! I thought you said Paige wasn’t interested in participating in the Selection!”

“Hey, Master Radcliffe. When I said that, we really weren’t interested in participating, but well…our feelings changed. Oh, but don’t worry about us, please. Surely, a tiny little faction like the Paige Workshop is beneath the worry of the grand Radcliffe Workshop.”

When he heard that, Marcus let out a sort of growl. He snorted and turned on his heel.

Watching the whole scene from the Mercury Workshop’s wagon was a nervous-looking man wearing a monocle.

“Oh, it’s Killean.”

When Elliott noticed him, he waved casually. The other man shrugged.

Killean was the name of the proxy maestro at the Mercury Workshop. The man with the monocle was probably John Killean. It was the first time Anne had seen the Mercury Workshop’s proxy maestro.

Anne had heard that the maestros and their proxies from each faction rarely gathered in one place, except for when they were summoned by the Silver Sugar Viscount. The fact that they were all here like this made it clear how important the Selection was to each of the factions.

The sugar candy sculptures from each of the workshops were carried into the sanctuary.

There were three large sugar candy sculptures covered in cloth. The crafters lined them up in front of the altar, which had the symbol of God, a cross in a circle, inscribed on it.

Twelve candlesticks were placed at regular intervals on top of the white altar. The silver candlesticks held ornamental candles, each about an arm’s span in length. They were made from pale-green wax, with an ivy pattern carved into them twining around each candle. Gold coloring had been applied to the inscribed patterns.

The ornamental candles were also arranged systematically throughout the whole sanctuary, flanking the altar and the feet of the statues of the saints.

The maestros of each faction and their proxies, as well as the head crafters, seated themselves in the first row. Behind them, the other candy crafters sat with nervous expressions, watching over their own sugar candy sculptures.

The church’s bell rang, signaling noon. Taking that as their cue, twelve clergymen walked out along an aisle next to the altar. They all wore the same black vestments. But just one of them had a thin band of gold around his neck. He was the head priest, the clergy member with the highest standing, and responsible for the sanctuary.

Anne was suddenly nervous.

The chilly air of the sanctuary became even more tense with the presence of the clergy.

It was dim inside as gray clouds still covered the skies of Lewiston.

The clergymen entered and formed a line in front of the altar.

“We will now carry out the Selection,” announced the clergyman standing to the side of the altar, facilitating the proceedings.

“The participants are the main studios of the Radcliffe Workshop, Mercury Workshop, and Paige Workshop.”

When the name of the Paige Workshop was called, the twelve clergymen glanced curiously over in Anne and Elliott’s direction. And when they spotted her sitting there, they all looked surprised.

“First, we will view the sugar candy sculpture from the main studio of the Radcliffe Workshop.”

At the clergyman’s instruction, Marcus and the head candy crafter from the Radcliffe Workshop stood up. They slowly removed the cloth covering the candy sculpture before them.

They revealed a statue of the Ancestor King, standing about the same height as Marcus. Anne was startled. The Ancestor King’s face and the beauty of his strong, elegant figure seemed familiar. It looked like Challe.

Did Keith…?

Hints of Keith’s characteristic style were all over the sugar candy. In response to the handsome, strong figure, the twelve clergy members murmured words of admiration in spite of themselves.

“We have conceptualized and crafted the figure of the Ancestor King during one of his accomplishments. We plan to line the sanctuary with statues representing each achievement,” the head crafter explained.

Marcus, who was standing beside him, nodded with a satisfied expression and sat back down.

John Killean furrowed his brow.

Elliott wore a blank look.

“Next, the main studio of the Mercury Workshop.”

When their studio was called, Killean stood up with his head candy crafter. With no hesitation at all, they quickly removed the cloth covering their sugar candy.

They revealed a collection of spheres. Inside one of them, one of the patron saints of the state church was kneeling in prayer. His anguished expression and the depiction of his thin, sinewy arms was incredibly realistic, in contrast to the Radcliffe Workshop’s fanciful statue of the Ancestor King. And for that very reason, it was eye-catching.

“We will make twelve spheres and arrange the twelve saints inside them in this manner. We plan to line them up around the sanctuary.”

This time, it wasn’t the head crafter but the proxy maestro, Killean, who gave a smooth explanation.

The clergymen nodded. They looked like they were deeply moved. As people who had studied the teachings of the state church in depth, they must have felt incredibly touched by the vivid depiction of the saint.

“Lastly, the main studio of the Paige Workshop.”

They were called forward just as Killean was returning to his seat.

When Anne stood up with Elliott, the eyes of the clergy focused on her.

Her back stiffened, but then Elliott lightly clapped a hand down on her shoulder. He gave her a little wink in such a way that the clergy couldn’t see it. Then he signaled with his eyes to look at the pews behind them.

Anne glanced behind her. Mithril, Orlando, King, Valentine, and Nadir were looking at her hopefully. She nodded to them, then removed the cloth covering their sugar candy sculpture.

When she pulled off the cloth, the clergymen knit their brows in obvious disapproval.

The frame of thin sticks was still in place around the sculpture.

“Wait just a moment, please,” Anne said.

The other crafters from the Paige Workshop stood up. They quickly untied the strings holding the parts of the frame together and dismantled the whole thing in the blink of an eye. Afterward, they stood off to the side of the pews, holding pieces of the frame.

“It’s snow.”

The tower, formed by putting together snow crystals, stood there dimly in the dark, lightless house of worship.

The candy crafters wore cloudy expressions. Anne also furrowed her brow.

The sculpture, which had looked incredibly beautiful in the workroom at the Paige Workshop, now seemed like nothing more than a vague little curio with a hazy silhouette.

How strange. Why?

Anne was nearly overcome with surprise.

“Main studio of the Paige Workshop. Continue.”

Prompted by a member of the clergy, Anne returned to her senses. In any case, she had to explain their piece.

“This is… It’s snow. A snowy First Holy Festival is a solemn occasion, one that will cleanse our heart. This snow…”

The longer she stood there talking to the row of clergymen, the more doubt and dismay welled up inside her. Her palms were sweaty.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.

Anne reflexively turned to look toward the sound of someone walking into the sanctuary, which had fallen completely silent.

The huge sanctuary doors were only halfway open. A cutout of the gray sky beyond was visible. The aisle leading straight from the entrance up to the altar was gloomy. Walking down the aisle was a slender figure. The person had sparkling beads of silver light on their right arm, lower back, and ankle. In the gloom, they glistened with astonishing beauty.

Challe slowly approached the front of the sanctuary. He had a sharp glint in his dark eyes, and his wing shone a brilliant crisp blue and silver color—traces of his battle, perhaps.

The beads of light dancing around Challe, following his movements, made him look even more gorgeous.

Challe!

In her joy, Anne’s withered emotions of a moment earlier disappeared instantly. Then she suddenly realized something.

Light!

The swirling lights beautifully highlighted Challe’s image. When she saw that, Anne remembered something important.

“Holy Fathers!”

Anne turned back to the clergymen standing next to the altar.

“During the First Holy Festival, will lights be lit in this sanctuary?!”

Challe quietly sat in the farthest back row of pews.

The clergymen, who had been looking at Challe suspiciously, wondering who he was, came back to themselves with Anne’s inquiry. One of them answered with another question.

“Huh? What did you ask?”

“During the First Holy Festival, will the lights be lit in this sanctuary?”

“Of course. All the candles decorating the sanctuary will be lit. Twice as many candles will also be prepared. What of it?”

“In that case, please listen to my request. This is the Selection, where you choose the sugar candy for the First Holy Festival. I ask for the same conditions we will have on the day of the ceremony. Please see what you think when the lights are lit up. Even if it’s just the ornamental candles that are in here right now. I ask for light!”

“Well, that’s… There’s no precedent for such a thing…,” one of the clergymen said, perplexed.

However—

“I see. That’s quite reasonable. Very well.”

The one who had quietly spoken up was the head priest.

“Father Brooke. Summon the fairies to light the candles.”

So ordered, the clergyman who was in charge of the proceedings quickly withdrew from beside the altar into the back.

Anne curtsied to the head priest.

“Thank you.”

“We hold the First Holy Festival every year, but sometimes, when I look at the sugar candy sculptures on the day of the festival, I feel that the impression they give is different than what we selected. It makes sense to have the conditions be the same as they will be on the day in question.”

The clergyman who had disappeared into the back a moment ago came out leading several little fairies about Mithril’s size. The fairies held slender candles in their hands. They scattered in all directions and moved around the room lighting the ornamental candles one after another in what seemed to be an assigned order.

Here and there, the candles began to burn.

The light-green color of the ornamental candles was faintly visible in the gloom, while the gold patterns reflected the flames and gleamed lustrously.

The stained glass embedded in the dim walls seemed to come to life. It shone with bright colors.

Shadows appeared, throwing the engravings on the pillars holding up the sanctuary into bold relief and giving them a presence that made them seem twice as large.

The sugar candy sculpture from the Radcliffe Workshop stood there, looking simply beautiful, just as it had in the dim illumination. It reflected the light and didn’t look as if anything in particular had changed.

The shadows on the sculpture from the Mercury Workshop stood out even more, which increased its realism. But making it seem more vivid just enhanced its melancholy nature.

Only the piece from the Paige Workshop flickered and sparkled, as if it were breathing in the light that filled the sanctuary.

The clergymen were wide-eyed in wonder. The head priest smiled admiringly.

“It’s snow,” Anne informed them again. “We’ve formed crystals representing the snow that covers the world in a blanket of white and renews it every year, then arranged them together to create a snowy scene, in a prayer that good fortune will visit our kingdom in the new year. We will line these up around the sanctuary. Lots of them.”

Marcus had his arms crossed and was staring sullenly at the candy sculpture that he had brought.

Killean was making an unpleasant face, as if he had a thorn or something lodged in the sole of his foot.

Once she had finished her explanation, Anne and Elliott took their seats.

“Which of these sugar candy sculptures is worthy of the First Holy Festival? I ask for the judgment of the twelve,” the clergyman in charge of the proceedings said solemnly.

The clergyman standing to his right quickly pointed to the Paige Workshop’s sculpture with his right hand.

In spite of herself, Anne smiled.

Next, the clergyman beside him pointed to the Mercury Workshop’s sculpture.

Killean nodded as if he had expected as much.

The third clergyman pointed to the Radcliffe Workshop’s candy.

A look of relief came over Marcus’s face.

The fourth clergyman indicated the Mercury Workshop. The fifth did as well.

The sixth chose the Radcliffe Workshop.

Anne’s hands balled into fists on her lap.

At that point, three clergymen had chosen the Mercury Workshop. Two had chosen Radcliffe. And only one had chosen Paige.

The seventh clergyman picked the Paige Workshop’s sculpture. The eighth pointed to Mercury’s.

The ninth chose the Radcliffe Workshop. The tenth, the Paige Workshop.

At that point, four clergymen had voted for the Mercury Workshop. And three each for the Radcliffe Workshop and Paige Workshop.

Marcus glanced over at Anne. She bit her lip.

Then the eleventh clergyman chose. He was pointing at the Paige Workshop’s candy.

Marcus gazed up at the ceiling as if in prayer.

Anne looked at the head priest. Killean was looking at him, too, with a bitter expression.

Four clergymen each had selected the Paige and Mercury Workshops. Three had selected the Radcliffe Workshop. Would the head priest’s final decision make the three workshops tie even, or would it decide the matter?

“Of the three workshops, which do you think has made sugar candy most fitting for the First Holy Festival?” the head priest asked the other eleven clergymen after a moment of thought.

“I think the Radcliffe Workshop’s is good. It’s beautiful and sublime, even on its own,” one of them answered.

“The Mercury Workshop. The saints who protect the state church are an especially fitting motif for the First Holy Festival,” another responded.

“The Mercury Workshop’s candy sculpture is a little too melancholy. It’s not suitable for the sanctuary when we’re celebrating the new year.”

“The Paige Workshop’s sculpture is too abstract.”

“Surely, being abstract is not a bad thing. I can feel the light of the new year in their sculpture.”

The clergymen all contributed their various opinions.

“The Paige Workshop has not taken part in the Selection for over ten years. I wonder if we should choose them when they have no past record of success.”

“If you’re going to say that, then shouldn’t we question the purpose of the Selection? Because we introduced it with the aim of making our choice not just based on a workshop’s track record, but on whether they can produce something magnificent.”

After listening to the opinions of the other clergy, the head priest raised his hand gently and took control of the crowd.

“Very well. I understand. Now then, allow me to decide.”

The sanctuary fell silent at the sound of his voice.

Anne could hear her own heart throbbing quickly in her ears. She squeezed her fists even tighter.

The head priest slowly pointed his finger.

He pointed at the Paige Workshop’s sugar candy sculpture.

For a moment, Anne could hardly breathe. Then joy welled up inside her.

We made that, all together.

A feeling of pride spread throughout her chest.

We created something wonderful.

It was a different sort of joy from the one she felt toward sugar candies that she had made by herself. There was none of the slight anxiety and embarrassment that came with being recognized on her own. She was able to feel pure happiness and pride. It was the exhilaration of having created something joyful for someone else.

Elliott’s expression relaxed in apparent relief. The other candy crafters and Mithril were all staring at one another. Anne turned around once more and looked at the farthest back row of pews. Challe was there.

“That which must be chosen, has been chosen,” the head priest announced quietly.

Then he made eye contact with Elliott and Anne, who were sitting side by side. Prompted by his gaze, the two of them stood up again.

“We request the sugar candy sculptures for the First Holy Festival from the main studio of the Paige Workshop. On the last day of the year, please decorate this sanctuary with your candy.”

“We accept,” Elliott answered in a dignified voice that Anne could never have imagined coming from someone like him.

Anne also curtsied and bowed deeply.

The head priest walked away. The other eleven clergymen followed him.

Once the twelve of them had disappeared into the back, everybody from the Radcliffe Workshop and Mercury Workshop stood up. The candy crafters from each group started moving to carry their sugar candy sculptures back outside.

Marcus and Killean both glanced over at Elliott.

But Elliott was staring up at his own group’s candy sculpture with a somewhat vacant expression.

Anne had never seen such a blank look on Elliott’s face before. He was always chattering on, jumbling lies and truth together as he smooth-talked his way through life. It wasn’t like him to be speechless. Anne was amused by the sight and laughed without really meaning to.

When she laughed at him, Elliott looked at Anne.

“Huh, what is it?”

Then Mithril came bounding up to them from his pew and hopped on top of Anne’s shoulder. “That dumb look on your face was really funny!” Mithril shouted.

Elliott frowned. Then the usual frivolous yet charming glint returned to his eye.

“Big talk for a little man, Mister One-Tenth.”

“Whyyy you! Again with the one-tenth thing!”

“Well, anyone would be slack-jawed looking at this candy sculpture… I wish I could have worked on it with you,” Elliott mumbled. He sounded deeply envious. He had the unmistakable look of a Silver Sugar Master.

Then the clergyman who had been facilitating the proceedings approached them.

“Mr. Collins. Let us confer about the arrangements leading up to the First Holy Festival. Please come through to the priests’ quarters behind the sanctuary. And move that candy sculpture into the room in the back. I’ll show you the way.”

“Certainly.”

Elliott stiffened up to address the clergyman, but once the Holy Father had left, he reverted to his flippant expression.

“So that’s that, then. We were chosen, Anne.”

“Mm. Though, it seems like rebuilding the workshop is still going to be a tough job. But for now, I made it through without getting myself expelled.”

“Ah, about that. Well, for now, put out both of your hands.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

Unsure of what was going on, she extended her hands. When she did, Elliott dug through his breast pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch from inside it. He casually let it drop into Anne’s waiting hands.

“Here. All yours.”

Without a doubt, it was the pouch that contained Challe’s wing.

On top of her shoulder, Mithril was also staring in wonder.

“Mr. Collins?! You’re giving it back?!”

“You really are careless, you know? When Glen said he was going to expel you if we didn’t get chosen in the Selection, you didn’t give him any conditions of your own, did you? Normally, you’d say something like Then if we get chosen in the Selection, please give me back Challe’s wing, right? If only you were a little smarter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You know Anne’s not that clever!!”

Anne’s shoulders slumped at Mithril’s words.

“…He’s right…”

“And so feeling sorry for Anne in all her carelessness, Glen and I decided to give Challe his wing back if we were chosen in the Selection.”

Then Elliott smiled.

“You showed us how to take the first step down a new path. So we’re not going to make you work so hard anymore.”

“But what about the commission for the First Holy Festival? We’ve got a lot of work waiting for us.”

“Truth is, we are going to be extremely busy, so I do regret having to let you go. Well, I guess this is where I have to be a man. I’m not going to ask such a big favor of a girl. So it’s fine, it’s all right. We’ll manage somehow, we’ll manage.”

Elliott waved his hand, then turned around to face the four candy crafters.

“Hey. You guys, we’re moving the candy. Give me a hand.”

The four crafters gathered around their sugar candy sculpture.

King thumped Anne in the back vigorously. “Well then, head candy crafter!”

Even though he was the one patting her on the back, King’s cheeks flushed red. He quickly left Anne’s side.

“That’s right, it’s over now, I guess. Mm…well, take care,” Nadir said, hanging his head and fiddling with his earring.

Rubbing Nadir’s back, Valentine smiled. “We heard everything from Glen and Elliott the night before last. Good for you, Anne. And thank you. It’s been fun.”

Lastly, Orlando glanced at Anne.

“Much obliged,” he said simply.

Elliott and the four candy crafters quickly assembled the wooden frame and covered their sugar candy with cloth. Then working together, they lifted the candy sculpture and loudly but carefully heaved it away toward the back of the sanctuary.

Once they were gone, the sanctuary fell silent. The Radcliffe Workshop and the Mercury Workshop had both already carried out their candy sculptures.

In a daze, Anne looked down at the pouch in her hand.

“Challe’s wing.”

“But those guys… Are they really not going to have any trouble once you’re gone?” Mithril asked, sounding concerned.

He looked toward the back of the sanctuary, where the five candy crafters had disappeared.

“Good point.”

Anne also couldn’t help but worry. Just making one of those sugar candy sculptures had demanded a lot of time and effort. And who knew how many they needed to make by year’s end? She felt overwhelmed simply thinking about it. They ought to be in serious need of additional crafters, even just one.

“Well. Where’s that Challe Fenn Challe? Is he still sitting?” Mithril asked.

Anne looked toward the pew where Challe had been sitting.

He was still there. His eyes were closed, and he was leaning against the backrest, his face tilted slightly up toward the ceiling. He appeared to be unconscious.

“Challe?!” Anne shouted in surprise.

She ran over and crouched in front of him. Looking at him now, she saw cuts on his arms, waist, and ankles. There were slashes through his clothes and boots. And there were faint scarlet cuts running across his skin that she could see through the tears in his clothes. Beads of glistening silver light seemed to be dancing around his wounds.

“Challe Fenn Challe is injured, you see. That light is coming out of his wounds. It’s the flow of fairy life force, sort of like blood in a human being.”

When Anne heard Mithril’s explanation, she went pale.

That meant the light that had been coiling about Challe in the gloom earlier was actually flowing out of his body. If he had been shining that brightly, it must have meant that he had sustained quite a few injuries.

“He’s probably fine, Anne. His wounds have already closed. He is Challe Fenn Challe, after all.”

“But he’s unconscious.”

She peered at his face. When she did, as if he was reacting to Anne’s presence, Challe’s eyes slowly opened.

His dark eyes, glossy like pieces of obsidian, reflected her image.

“Challe?”

She felt relieved. Challe’s eyes, which had been vacantly staring at nothing, focused on Anne’s face. Then—

“…What of the Selection?” Challe asked suddenly.

“We were chosen. And I—I got your wing back, Challe. I have it here.”

When he heard that, Challe slowly raised his upper body from the backrest.

“They returned it?” he asked quizzically. “Why?”

“They said I had done enough. That they weren’t going to force me to work anymore.”

Anne looked toward the back of the sanctuary again.

The people of the Paige Workshop, the folk who had called her head crafter, were about to undertake a difficult job. She wondered whether she could really wave a pleasant good-bye and leave them, knowing that.

In order to secure her standing as a Silver Sugar Master, Anne was supposed to work for one year.

But in that case, surely there would be no issue with her working at the Paige Workshop?

She could make the sugar candies that had been chosen at the Selection. If she did that, her reputation as a Silver Sugar Master would rise along with the name of the workshop. More than anything, she felt great joy at having made the candy that had been chosen for the First Holy Festival. But the true work of decorating the sanctuary with those sculptures started now.

She had started the job for Challe’s sake, but Anne was certain it was something she ought to see through to the very end. However, the people from the Paige Workshop had told her she could abandon that responsibility.

They’d said that since she’d started it against her will, she didn’t have to continue with it.

But she didn’t want to abandon a job halfway once she’d taken it on. She had been told that she’d done enough, but she couldn’t take advantage of their kindness. Surely, that was what responsibility meant.

“Hey, Challe? Mithril Lid Pod? Since I got Challe’s wing back, there’s no reason I have to work at the Paige Workshop anymore, but…but if I were to say I wanted to work there until the First Holy Festival is over, would you be opposed?” she asked.

Mithril smiled pleasantly. “The beds there are nice to sleep on, so I’m all in favor!”

“Do whatever you feel like doing. I can go anywhere. As long as you’re there, wherever it is, I’ll be with you,” said Challe, who still had on a blank expression.

“All right, then it’s decided!”

Mithril stood up on Anne’s shoulder. He looked excited. “I’ll go let the other guys know! I’ll tell them Anne is going to continue working at the Paige Workshop a little bit longer!”

No sooner had he said that than Mithril jumped down from the top of Anne’s shoulder, then seemed to kick off the back of the pew and, without stopping, rushed off to the back of the sanctuary. He looked delighted.

Mithril had also taken part in making the sculpture for that year’s Selection, and having helped them, he must have been curious to see where that work would lead. Anne thought it was promising that he had the enthusiasm of a full-fledged crafter.

“I’m sorry, Challe. I’m always making you follow me.”

“There’s nothing in this world more interesting than watching you, so I don’t particularly mind.”

“But you even got injured like this. What about that fairy? What happened?”

“They ran away. If I meet them again, I’ll kill them.”

There was a startling sharp glint in Challe’s eyes. Anne caught a glimpse of the true nature of a warrior fairy.

“I’m really glad that you made it back okay. Thank you, Challe, for always protecting me.”

With little strength of her own, as long as Anne was with Challe, she had to rely on him to protect her. She was well aware of that, and she knew she mustn’t depend on him too much. But as long as Challe didn’t object to it, she couldn’t pull herself away from him. If they were ever to be separated, she would miss him so badly that she wasn’t sure what would become of her.

She knew she was selfish for wanting to take advantage of Challe’s kindness and to stay by his side forever. So all she could do was try her best not to be too much of a burden to him. She could only pray that Challe would be grateful and that he would always want to stay by her side.

Anne didn’t have it in her to try to stop Challe from leaving by holding on to his wing.

“Thank you for waiting. I can finally give your wing back now. Challe, this is yours.”

Anne extended her arms and hung the pouch with his wing in it around his neck. Challe smiled. He leaned in a little bit and held Anne’s cheeks in both hands. Then he slowly brought his face closer to hers.

“You saved me after all.”

Challe’s breath caressed Anne’s lips. His long hair brushed her cheeks. The luster in Challe’s eyes was enough to send a shock down her spine. Suddenly, she was pinned to the spot, unable to move.

“With this, you can say that you became a Silver Sugar Master under your own power. Throw out your chest and wear the title with pride. You truly are a Silver Sugar Master.”

Challe didn’t move for a moment, like he was wavering over something. Then as if he had changed his mind, he adjusted the position of his lips slightly and kissed Anne on the forehead.

“A blessing for you, who has become a Silver Sugar Master,” he whispered.

His words were kind and sweet.

Anne had really become a Silver Sugar Master.

The flames of the ornamental candles flickered, and the sanctuary was filled with gentle light. It was quiet enough to give the illusion that they were the only two people in the world.

“Ah! I can see the main house!” Nadir shouted, standing on top of the cargo hold. Just then, the wheels of the wagon ran over a stone, and the whole vehicle bounced dramatically. Nadir collided with King’s back and fell on his behind.

Orlando was driving the wagon, with Elliott sitting beside him. In the cargo hold were Nadir, King, and Valentine, as well as Anne, Challe, and Mithril.

“Nadir! Settle down!”

King shouted at him and thumped him on the head, but Nadir was not discouraged.

“Come on, I just want to tell Glen soon, okay? I want to tell him that we were chosen and that Anne is going to keep working at the Paige Workshop for a while. I want to run from here!”

“We won’t stop you. Do whatever you like,” Valentine answered in an exasperated voice.

Nadir grinned and turned to Mithril.

“Let’s go, little guy!”

“Why are you asking me to come along?! Also, ‘little guy’ is not my name! I’ve got a very handsome name, which is Mithril Lid Pod!”

“All right then, Mithril Lid Pod, let’s go. It won’t be any fun by myself!”

No sooner had he said that than Nadir hopped out of the cargo hold.

“You didn’t answer—why me?!”

Though he seemed to be in a better mood now that he had been called by his proper name, Mithril still looked puzzled as he jumped down off the wagon.

Nadir and Mithril cut through a field and ran toward the main house of the Paige Workshop. As he watched them go, Elliott folded his arms behind his head and yawned. “I wonder why children like to waste all their energy like that? It’s strange, don’t you think, Orlando?” Elliott asked.

“He’s probably just impatient, unlike us. That’s why…he’s also useful at times.”

Orlando squinted at Nadir’s retreating figure, then turned back to look at Anne.

“Huh? What is it?” Anne asked, feeling his gaze on her.

“You’re a child, too, I guess,” Orlando mumbled.

Challe snickered.

Anne was disappointed when he earnestly called her a child.

“Well, maybe I am a child compared with you, Orlando. But I’m sixteen, and I’ve been an adult as of last year.”

She begrudgingly lectured him, but Orlando wasn’t looking her way anymore. He had turned his back to her, and she got the sense that he found her discontent and grumbling amusing, but she decided it must be her imagination.

A dry wind blew down the hill, rustling the grass. The wind was cold, but the sunshine was warm.

Nadir and Mithril ran toward the house.

The wagon sluggishly climbed the gentle slope.

After a short while, Hal came out onto the porch of the main house. He set out a chair and went inside through one of the sliding glass doors. Then Nadir came out with Hal, supporting Glen. The two of them set him down in the chair. Glen looked toward the wagon and smiled. Observing carefully, Anne could also see Danna there, peeking out bashfully from behind the curtain of the door. Mithril also came bounding out onto the porch.

Glen waved his hand. She could almost hear him saying, Welcome home.

For some reason, Anne had a very nostalgic feeling. She felt like she wanted to hurry up and return to that place.

Ever since she was born, Anne had lived her whole life on the road. She had never known a place she could call home, but she had yearned for one. Perhaps the house she had longed for as a young girl had resembled the large estate before her now.

Challe must have noticed her vacant expression as she stared at the house. “What’s the matter?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing. Somehow, I— This feels like…coming home.”

Bridget heard Nadir burst into the house and talk to Glen excitedly. She’d heard that they had been chosen at the Selection. And that Anne intended to work at the Paige Workshop until the First Holy Festival was over.

She was able to tell when Danna, Hal, and Glen had gone out on the porch to greet the crafters.

Shut up in her own room, Bridget had heard all those noises.

She felt proud that the Paige Workshop had been chosen. Bridget liked the sugar candy sculptures that the Paige Workshop crafters made, and she respected them. She had found the fact that the Paige Workshop was in decline despite her feelings implausible and vexing.

But at last, the world had properly acknowledged the workshop.

Thinking she should probably also go out and greet them, Bridget stood up from the chair where she’d been sitting and walked over to the door.

But she stopped. The crafters probably wouldn’t be happy to see her.

Both Glen and the candy crafters seemed to want Bridget to have nothing to do with the workshop, as they never told her anything. No one, she reasoned, would be happy if she were to go out and meet them.

She just wanted to see Challe. But when she thought about how coldly he would treat her, she couldn’t muster up the courage to see his face.

I alone am an outsider. That’s always been true my whole life.

That thought made her sad, and then angry. She couldn’t help but be mad. But it wasn’t toward anyone in particular. She was just furious at everything.

Bridget turned her back to the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes. She felt like she was suffocating.

The sugar candy sculptures of the little bird and cat were still sitting outside her door. Anne had left the bird there, but she didn’t know who had left the cat. They were both incredibly cute, though, and she wanted to take them in her hands. She felt like the candies were whispering to her from the other side of the door she was leaning on, telling her they wanted her to bring them inside.

But still, she just couldn’t reach out to take them.

Just then, someone tapped one of the glass sliding doors lightly.

When she opened her eyes in surprise, she saw a tall man standing on the other side of the glass. She could see a single wing hanging down his back. He was a fairy, and he took her breath away.

The fairy wore a fine coat. It was brilliant white and decorated with beads and lace.

His soft-looking hair was a marvelous, gentle hue, like green and blue dyes that had been dissolved in creamy milk. His eyes were a similar ambiguous color. With his slender chin, long eyelashes, and pale skin, he was nothing if not handsome.

He was just as beautiful as Challe, but without the sharpness that made the obsidian fairy unapproachable.

She sensed softness within the fairy on the other side of the window.

When Bridget had met Challe, she’d thought there was no other living creature in the world who could be so beautiful. Now she knew that she had been wrong. There was a lovely fairy who was just as perfect as Challe but wrapped in a soft, gentle aura.

Who are you?

She wanted to ask, but overcome with surprise, her voice wouldn’t come out. The fairy was smiling.