Chapter 6: A Buried Past (2)

The store’s clientele extended beyond mere students.

The modest outdoor seating area proved an ideal respite for patrolling guards and professors weary from their experiments. It was here, too, that gossip about promising new students and their illustrious families spread like wildfire at the start of each semester.

“I hear tell, Professor Marco, that a student in your first lecture cast a 2nd-tier spell without incantation?”

“Indeed. Carl, a lad from southern Montana. Shows remarkable promise.”

“The caliber of this year’s intake is truly exceptional. I’d harbored concerns about the inter-year competitions, what with Liv Labre and the Cloud Baron’s heir in the second year… but perhaps we needn’t have worried.”

“With Her Highness in attendance, and whispers of a mid-term transfer from the Holy Kingdom… we may find our second-years outmatched.”

“Such high hopes I had for the Rochear scion, as well…”

“…Best we change the subject. On another note, I believe the Heljeb situation will be on the agenda at next month’s conference in Mizar.”

Their voices, carried on the breeze, reached my ears as I perused the morning paper at the counter.

Unsurprisingly, Adela’s reputation had hit rock bottom.

I hadn’t realized the princess had enrolled. Has she truly come of age already? What a world we live in, where even royalty—who have no pressing need for magical education—grace our halls.

“Good day, Mr. Louis.”

A familiar voice prompted me to look up and offer a greeting.

“Welcome, Professor Roilen. Is there something you require?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just curious about your current endeavors.”

She approached with a light step, trailing a crisp citrus scent. Evidently, the tedious chatter of her elderly colleagues had driven her to seek more engaging company.

“Why shield your visage? Concealing an unsightly blemish, perhaps?”

“Merely perusing the news, Professor.”

A decade may reshape mountains, but it’s insufficient to erase the scars of a painful history. While the students posed no threat, there remained the possibility that a professor might have crossed paths with me on the battlefield. Eager to avoid such entanglements, I found myself somewhat vexed as Professor Roilen meandered about, handling various items and drawing undue attention.

“My, my. These staves… all enchanted, I presume?”

“Indeed. With the new term upon us, I’ve stocked up. Most students will likely wield family heirlooms, but some may require alternatives.”

Magical implements serve to channel and amplify arcane energies. While staves are the most common, truly accomplished mages aren’t bound by such conventional forms. Terra, for instance, favored a cannon for its raw destructive potential. Though I’ve yet to encounter another eccentric of her caliber, mages employ a vast array of mystical accouterments.

“Perhaps I ought to procure one for myself?”

Observing Professor Roilen as she hefted a staff, her head cocked inquisitively, I offered a noncommittal shrug.

“Aren’t those earrings of yours already suffused with Magic?”

“Ah, a keen eye! Indeed they are. Forged from gold panned from the Satchala canals.”

“I hadn’t realized the specifics.”

“Oh, just a bit of trivia… Hold on, is this crafted from metallurgical wood? Such materials are quite rare in these parts…”

Her acuity was impressive, no doubt honed by years of magical study. Metallurgical wood is a premium material, superior to mundane timber in both hardness and arcane conductivity. In its living state, the roots possess formidable magical resistance, making it a nightmare for lumberjacks to fell.

“I sourced it personally.”

“You, Mr. Louis?”

“Yes. During the winter months. Had it processed at a specialized workshop.”

At this, her expression noticeably tightened.

“Curious. I remained in Farencia over the holidays, and if memory serves, the western forests were deemed off-limits from December onwards. Something about an influx of dangerous creatures.”

“…Ah, you misunderstand. This was procured last year.”

“Last year? But surely you recall the severe blizzards that necessitated the evacuation of even our sturdiest outposts?”

“…”

Scrambling for a second excuse amidst the meaningless jumble of words before me, I finally lowered the newspaper and spoke.

“Perhaps you’d like to purchase a staff after all?”

My tongue, it seems, has a penchant for trouble.

***

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Though I join you belatedly, I am Erzebert Brunhard de Baor, newly admitted to Farencia Academy. Like yourselves, I come in pursuit of magical knowledge.”

Her golden tresses seemed to outshine even the sunlight streaming through the windows. The brooch adorning her chest bore the royal insignia—a symbol unique within the academy’s walls.

Professor Vincent felt beads of nervous perspiration form as he realized the Pennheim princess had joined his class. Yet, surprisingly, the students didn’t appear overly awed by Erzebert’s presence. Given the frequent mingling of noble circles, many faces were already familiar.

“It’s been far too long, Osan. Has your region recovered from last autumn’s devastating floods? We’ve extended the tax relief measures through this year—do convey my regards to Count Chronoff.”

“Gourmond Patisserie? But of course! The capital’s finest purveyor of confections. They’ve established a Farencia branch, you say? We simply must visit together.”

“I’ve yet to decide on a particular salon. My immediate plans involve running in the student council elections come May.”

As the lecture concluded, a throng of students converged upon Erzebert, each receiving a gracious response. Some nobles gazed in undisguised fascination at the exotic bird perched upon her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Erzebert’s eyes scanned the classroom, seeking one particular individual she had yet to greet.

The second daughter of House Rochear—the sole first-year student bearing the prestigious Four-Leaves Medal: Adela.

Surely she should stand out…

Though Erzebert had never encountered her at social gatherings, someone of Rochear lineage ought to command attention much as she did. Yet, among the scattered groups, there was no sign of the telltale azure locks that marked Rochear blood.

“Your Highness, are you searching for someone in particular?”

“Indeed. I was informed that Count Rochear’s younger sister is among our classmates. Might she be absent today?”

“Ah, well… about that…”

The moment the words left her lips, an odd tension permeated the classroom. Then, from a distant corner, came the sound of someone being roused from slumber.

“Hey, Adela! Wake up!”

“Mmmph…?”

“The princess is here! She’s looking for you!”

“Huh? Wha…?”

A figure stirred, her cape draped haphazardly like an inverted umbrella. As Erzebert reflected, she realized the girl had maintained that posture throughout the entire lecture. Cautiously, the princess approached.

“Adela? A pleasure to meet you. I’m Erzebert.”

“Yawn~ Oh, hello.”

“The kingdom of Pennheim owes a great debt to House Rochear. How fares your sister, the esteemed Ice Lord?”

“Hehe, you’re welcome, I guess. Not really sure about sis. Probably fine?”

Her demeanor suggested complete detachment from the matter at hand. The disconnect was palpable.

“I… see. This marks our final lecture of the day, does it not? Perhaps you’d care to join me for supper?”

Momentarily taken aback, Erzebert composed herself before extending the dinner invitation. While the academy officially frowned upon overt displays of status, certain noble customs persisted. A first shared meal demanded proper decorum. With a Rochear present, extending invitations to those of lesser rank could spark unseemly gossip.

Yet Adela, displaying not a hint of compunction, declined outright.

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

“I… beg your pardon?”

“Adela! Have you lost your mind?! Your Highness, I offer my deepest apologies! She can be rather… obtuse at times!”

Rina, mortified, seized Adela by the scruff of her neck—an act that, under normal circumstances, would be unthinkable given their respective stations.

“Apologize this instant! Bow your head!”

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The desk reverberated with each impact.

“Ow, ow! But I need to visit the store! They have the most delectable bread…”

“How can you possibly think of your stomach at a time like this?! You absolute nincompoop!”

Erzebert’s eyes narrowed at Adela’s peculiar utterance.

“The… store, you say?”

“Pay her no mind, Your Highness! She’s not quite right in the head… She’s been spouting nonsense about the proprietor being some great mage. Pure rubbish, I assure you!”

“It’s not nonsense! I witnessed it with my own eyes… Yeowch!”

“That’s quite enough,” Erzebert interjected, halting Rina’s assault on Adela’s cranium. She then locked eyes with the beleaguered girl, who was gingerly nursing her reddened forehead and nose.

“If you have prior engagements, I shan’t impose. As it happens, I’d intended to visit this store myself. Perhaps this is fortuitous timing.”

“Your Highness?”

“Adela, might I prevail upon you to show me the way? I’ve yet to familiarize myself with the academy’s layout.”

“Right now?”

A flicker of suspicion crossed Erzebert’s mind. Perhaps the Rochear scion knew more than she let on. Adela’s query, devoid of any telling inflection, was met with a firm nod from the princess.

“Yes. This very moment.”

***

“Helloooo? Anyone home~~?”

“Huh? Where could they be? Surely it’s not closing time already?”

I huddled silently in a shadowed corner behind the counter, watching Adela press her forehead against the glass storefront, peering intently inside.

Who could have foreseen that my attempt to apprehend a simple thief would lead to such dire straits? Her fixation bordered on the pathological.

I dared not even illuminate the second floor, lest it betray my presence.

“Hmph. Must have retired early for the night.”

As her footsteps receded, I finally allowed myself a sigh of relief. Even when fleeing from Antiope, one of the demon army’s most fearsome generals, I hadn’t experienced such heart-pounding tension.

Has she truly departed?

Just as I prepared to emerge from my hiding spot, I sensed another presence and instinctively held my breath.

One heartbeat. Two. Three…

Time seemed to stretch interminably. Then, a soft murmur reached my ears.

“He’s really not here.”

An icy chill ran down my spine. What grievous sin had I committed to warrant such a life of concealment?

It became apparent that Adela wasn’t alone; the muted tones of conversation drifted to me.

“That’s odd. The store is typically open at this hour. Perhaps he stepped out, or retired early this evening.”

“Is that so? No matter, we can always return another time. You needn’t linger on my account, Adela.”

“And you, Your Highness?”

“I think I’ll explore the vicinity a bit longer before retiring to the dormitory. After the confines of the royal palace, there’s so much novel stimuli to take in.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Swift, purposeful footsteps—unmistakably Adela’s—faded into the distance.

Then, unexpectedly, the gentle trill of an avian broke the silence.

“Pii.”

“…”

“Pii! Pii! Pii!!”

“I know you’re in there. Cease this charade at once.”

Well, shit.