Maybe the spell isn’t working right.
She had picked up the cat a little while ago down in the castle town. It had run out right in front of her and seemed like it might scratch her, so she had promptly cast some charm magic on it…
Vivian squatted down and recited the spell once again. The cat’s eyes became unfocused for a moment, and then it started to purr.
“Nice kitty.” Vivian stroked the cat’s head, then returned to looking over the desk.
There were quite a few books filled with Merlin’s handwriting. They were all concerned with animal fusion. Vivian had searched the library and the bookcases in all the rooms in the building and gathered them together here.
“I won’t be outdone by that woman anymore. I’ve studied and I have the practical experience now.”
Vivian opened a record of some fusion experiment that Merlin had been commissioned by the king several years ago. Merlin had of course made no effort to reveal what she was creating to Vivian, merely her disciple, but Vivian remembered some complicated fusion magic experiments that involved not just animals, but plants too.
“What does this mean? I don’t understand this description. Is it in an ancient language? It’s not a rune, and I’ve never seen these words before…”
She hurriedly flipped through several other books—herbological encyclopedias and dictionaries for the languages of dead cultures.
“I don’t understand…” She bit her lip. “The answer couldn’t possibly be in one of those books we sold off…right? No, there’s no way.”
Vivian pushed down the twinge of unease that had risen in her chest.
Two years ago, Hendrickson and Dreyfus had conspired together to pin the blame for Captain Zaratras’ murder on the Seven Deadly Sins. After they had driven the Sins from the capital, Hendrickson took over this hall, which used to belong to Merlin. When he did, he and Vivian, his magician collaborator, had thoroughly ransacked the building and disposed of everything they deemed unnecessary.
They had thrown out or sold a countless number of books, but none of them had had any relation at all to magic. They hadn’t even belonged to Merlin—mostly, they were personal belongings that other members of the Seven Deadly Sins had left lying around.
“I checked those all over carefully—there’s no problem there,” Vivian assured herself.
There were certain fixed rules when it came to genetic splicing. Ignoring them and forcing combinations resulted in chimeras that couldn’t live very long and that fell short of the original animals’ potential.
“If it can’t be done, then it can’t be done!” she fumed. But Hendrickson’s words drifted through her ears again.
Would your mentor say so, too?
“How frustrating!”
She screeched like a child and threw the nearest book down onto the floor.
The cat jumped again and hissed.
3
“Good evening, Gil.”
When Vivian teleported into Gilthunder’s room, she found him sitting at his desk reading some sort of document.
“Hey, Vivian.”
Gilthunder turned to her, smiling thinly. Vivian knew it was a fake smile, but she pretended not to notice.
“What were you reading?” Vivian leaned coyly against the boy and reached for the document on his desk.
“The schedule for during and after the Summer Solstice Festival break.”
“Huh…”
Vivian glanced at the document. It appeared to be a schedule, just as he’d said.
“So…what are you doing for the festival, Gil?”
“Umm…nothing in particular.”
Vivian was lost in the beauty of his downcast profile. He really was such a lovely boy. He had stood out since his early years, but recently he had gotten more manly, too, and now he was positively radiant.
Vivian knew that every smile he showed her was forced.
Even so, she wanted to keep him in her grasp.
She would do anything for that. Anything at all.
Though it was all lies now, if they continued spending time together like this, surely his heart, too, would someday be hers.
Vivian narrowed her eyes. Gilthunder looked away uncomfortably.
“Hey, Gil. Want to go to the festival together?” Vivian proposed.
Gilthunder’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he seemed to give it some thought.
“…Unless you’d rather not with me?”
“Sure, I’ll go.” Gilthunder faced her with another forced smile.
“Oh, good! All right, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow evening!”
4
Just past nine in the evening, dusk was finally starting to settle over the long, long day of the summer solstice.
The sun hid behind the western city wall, and lamps were lit here and there about the capital. Lanterns burned in front of shops, and torches and braziers in street corners, all illuminating the royal banners and festive flower wreaths. The number of people strolling around town showed no signs of dwindling, and laughter spilled out endlessly from the restaurants and taverns. Children who were allowed to stay up late just for tonight ran about, stuffing their mouths with baked sweets from the stalls. Young people were dolled up in their very best outfits, and many an arm was linked with a sweetheart’s.
A round of partner dancing had started in the central square. A lottery to pair up single dancers with partners bustled along with it.
The sea of lovers danced around to the tune of a jaunty waltz. Vivian watched them from the corner of her eye as she and Gilthunder walked along the edge of the square.
“Is there anything you want to see, Gil? I heard the circus this year is excellent,” Vivian said, pointing to the large, recently pitched tent that took up the northern half of the square.
“Yeah, I think Howzer and the others went to check it out.” Gilthunder nodded, glancing at the tent.
“Are you interested? Shall we go, too? I heard a dragon pup is going to jump through a ring of fire.”
“Nah.” Gilthunder shook his head, eyes downcast.
“Well then, do you want to get something to eat? Apparently the stall over there is pretty good…”
“Uh huh.” Gilthunder looked up at the sky, where the edges of the sunset were slowly starting to turn purple. At about the same time, the bells signaling the hour chimed out ten o’clock. “They’re selling fish that are wrapped in pie dough and fried, aren’t they? I’ll buy some for us. You can—oh, how about you wait over there and listen to a song?”
“Ah, really?” Vivian brightened and clasped her hands in front of her despite herself.
“I think they’ve got sweet sauce and savory sauce—tell me again which kind you like?”
“I’ll take the sweet one.”
Vivian couldn’t believe that Gilthunder was going out of his way to be nice to her. With high spirits, she watched him walk off, then headed toward the western end of the square like he’d told her to.
The area had been turned into a small stage for minstrels and street performers.
A raised platform had been built into a recess of the square, and wooden benches were lined up around it in semi-circles.
When Vivian arrived, a beautiful female singer had just finished her act and was trying to step off and away from the stage, showered with cheers and applause. A ten-year-old boy—he was probably her apprentice, or perhaps her son—held out a hat and weaved through the spectators, collecting tips.
Next up, a youthful man ascended the stage. He was rather handsome and carried a lute in his arms; he winked at the young ladies sitting in the front row. A handful of men left their seats and were immediately replaced by flocking girls.
Vivian sat down on an unoccupied two-person bench near the edge of the semi-circle and waited restlessly for Gilthunder to return.
Meanwhile, the young minstrel finished tuning his lute and cleared his throat.
“I’m so glad I could come again this year to Li
ones Kingdom’s tradition-steeped Summer Solstice Festival. May you all have the chance to dream for at least a moment this short summer night.”
The young ladies fluttered with excitement at his smooth voice, so perfectly matched to his handsome face. Vivian looked over her shoulder and finally saw Gilthunder walking back with something wrapped in paper in both hands.
“And now, for my first song—a maiden I met the other day requested that I absolutely sing this first today. Is the young lady here, I wonder?”
The minstrel made a show of looking across the crowd.
“Hmm, she doesn’t appear to be…But perhaps she is listening somewhere. Or maybe she’s gone to summon her sweetheart?”
Laughter spilled from the audience.
“Gil, over here.” Vivian waved discreetly, and Gilthunder padded over and sat down next to her. He gently set the paper-wrapped pie in Vivian’s hand.
“Thank you.” Vivian ducked her head and blushed slightly. Maybe after this, if she invited him to the lovers’ dance, he would be so kind as to oblige her.
The minstrel picked up his lute again and began to pluck the strings in a cascade of notes.
“I have no intention of prying boorishly. I hope that my song might touch your hearts,” the minstrel said. He took a deep breath, and at last started to sing resonantly.
The beach suspended in moonlight is like your pale white arms
Coming in and out of sight in the dark waves, revealing the truth
The shadow of the mountains reflected in the lake is like your noble profile
It wavers in the light and wind; I stretch out my arms but I cannot reach
This lone old palace on its tiny island feels like a stone cell that holds me bound
My body is cursed and torn apart by the fates of the day and the night
It stands here still as stone, it sighs
Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here
Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear
Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises
Is the only thing that I can do
“What a nice song.” Vivian, enthralled by the performance, looked at Gilthunder beside her.
When she did, she was taken aback.
Gil?
Gilthunder was weeping.
Or rather, he was biting his lip trying not to cry, but tears he couldn’t hold back were gathering in his eyes.
Gil…
The moment Vivian saw this, she felt her heart grow suddenly cold.
It was certainly a good song, and maybe for a young woman it would make sense, but she couldn’t believe that it was moving enough to make a fourteen-year-old boy—to make Gilthunder—shed tears like this.
His hands trembled minutely, and he hadn’t taken even one bite of the pie that he had bought.
Oh, that I might be allowed just to sing about you here
Though my hands might never touch you and my voice you never hear
Because standing here remembering you and singing your praises
Is the only thing that I can do
The minstrel sang the last verse again and again, and then he gently stilled the music from his lute.
Applause erupted with oohs and ahhs. The minstrel took his brimmed hat from his head and handed it to a girl in the front row. She tossed in a silver coin and passed the hat to the next seat.
“And for my next song…”
This time, a slightly faster, cheerier song began. The lingering applause turned into people clapping along to the beat.
However, Vivian wasn’t listening anymore.
What had the minstrel said just now?
A maiden I met the other day requested that I absolutely sing this first today.
And yet the one who requested it hadn’t shown up.
But perhaps she is listening somewhere. Or maybe she’s gone to summon her sweetheart?
…summon her sweetheart…
Several images churned through Vivian’s head.
Gilthunder had looked up at the sky earlier, as if confirming the time signaled by the bells.
What if—what if he had come here today specifically to listen to this song?
Was that why he’d accepted Vivian’s invitation? Was that why he’d bought her food?
Was it all so that he could come here at the right time?
That implied only one answer.
Margaret!
Of course. That girl.
The platinum-blond girl who lived always in Gilthunder’s heart.
But—but how?
Vivian shrewdly turned over the possibilities.
She had set the greatest chimera she’d ever made to stand guard over Margaret. It was a monster that constantly monitored the girl’s every move while staying under cover, never revealing itself. It would automatically attack Margaret if Gilthunder or anything that smelled like him ever got too close.
And it was the same for Gilthunder. When Vivian herself couldn’t be near him, a raven infused with her intentions kept watch over him.
Vivian was sure the two of them absolutely knew all that. In fact, as far as she could tell, for the past two years, they hadn’t spoken at all aside from polite conversation in formal settings. They’d shown no hint of exchanging letters, either.
Letters…
With a start, Vivian realized—
The training schedule that Gilthunder had been looking at yesterday.
What if something had been concealed within it?
And if whoever had given it to Gilthunder hadn’t been Margaret or one of her attendants?
If it was a training schedule, he probably got it from one of the Holy Knight instructors or fellow apprentices. I’ve never looked into something like that.
A scene flashed bright into Vivian’s mind.
The day I picked up that black cat…
The tavern that the cat had run out of.
When she had peeped inside, Howzer the Holy Knight apprentice had been arguing with another customer.
It hadn’t interested Vivian, so she had left soon after, but…she thought maybe he had been protecting some girl.
Right. A young woman with her red hair done in braids.
Now that she thought about it, she’d seen that girl somewhere before, too…
Oh—she’s Margaret’s new attendant!
Were they friends? Or had they just met there at the tavern?
Howzer was a childhood friend of Gilthunder’s but had always been simple, never doubting his preconceptions. He’d never once questioned Gilthunder’s change in demeanor, despite being such close friends.
What was more, he respected Captain Dreyfus from his heart, and Vivian didn’t think the boy would even dream of the possibility that Dreyfus and Hendrickson had already betrayed the king.
I was careless to think so…
Precisely because he thought nothing of it, he would agree readily if Margaret’s attendant asked him for a favor.
Vivian clenched her fists tight. The nails she’d buffed and painted pink for the date bit into her palms.
“Gil. I’m not feeling well. Let’s go home.” Vivian pulled heavily on Gilthunder’s arm.
His face had completely cleared by then, and he looked at Vivian in surprise, mid-bite into his fried fish. “What? But—”
“Come on. We’re going home!” Vivian pulled him forcefully by the arm and stood up. Her untouched pie fell with a plop onto the ground.
5
As soon as she returned to her room in the magical research hall, tears began to spill from her eyes.
“Ugh…sniff…A fool…everyone keeps making a fool out of me!”
When she stomped over to the table, a sudden voice hissed strangely. The black cat puffed up its tail under the table. It also flattened its ears behind its head, completing the threatening posture.
“…”
The charm’s effects had worn off.
Vivian had nev
er been very good at mind manipulation magic in the first place. Especially not on humans, but even with animals like cats and dogs, it only lasted for a few days at best.
Looking around, she saw that objects all over the room were knocked over and scattered about the floor. The magic must have worn off while Vivian was away, and the cat had rampaged about, wanting to go outside.
“…”
Her lips trembled.
It felt like someone was telling her there was nothing she could do.
Nothing was going like she wanted it to. Nothing.
Not even this cat would love her. When the magic wore off, it went right back to the way it was.
Vivian waved her right arm. Her staff appeared in her hand. Raising it, she faced the cat and recited a teleportation spell.
“I won’t forgive any of you! Mark my words!”
The cat disappeared instantly. Then, as if chasing after it, Vivian did too.
Chapter Four
The Three Sisters and the Curious Puzzle
—from Gowther
Even in the middle of the night when the entire royal capital slept, a few lights yet burned in one hall, in the laboratory that belonged to the mistress, or perhaps, from the merrymaking of late-night visitors.
Sometimes, a Holy Knight arrived hidden from the eyes of the public to pick up secret magical gear.
Which windows were illuminated, and when, depended on the day.
There was one room, however, that every day—from dusk to dawn—never went dark.
Tonight, again, light leaked from it.
That room, where each and every wall was occluded by bookshelves, appeared at first glance to be some kind of archive for the witch who owned the hall.
If one looked carefully, though, most of the books stashed on the shelves weren’t the illustrated guides or scholarly tomes that a witch would need. Most of them were beautiful fables—books of transcribed stories.
Night after night, the occupant of that room passed the long, dark hours absorbed in those stories. After all, he didn’t have any need for sleep.
Because of the strange fate bestowed upon him, he always kept his body covered in a huge suit of armor and a helmet. He only removed them and exposed his naked face to the air for those few hours in the dead of the night in his own room.
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