Ashes Heap
The Yuren Duchy.
These days, it's being called the "Reign of Maho," a nation undergoing dazzling development. There are exactly five earl families in the country. With such a small territory, the number of nobles is equally limited.
Sion, Para, Belik... whatever, not important. Skip it.
Anyway.
The eldest daughter of the Sion family, Rose, on this Sunday, neatens her sky-blue bob haircut and equips her staff, magical handcuffs, and a revolver for self-defense.
"Hey. Working even on your day off?"
Her mother, enjoying tea time on the balcony, tilts her head curiously. Rose answers with a stiff expression.
"Yes. The expo's coming up soon, so it's busy."
As the daughter of an earl family, she has a sense of duty. But she has no intention of chasing stuffy formalities or the intellectual vanity peculiar to nobles.
Yuren is fated to become a republic, after all. Nobility is just an outdated bad habit destined to vanish someday.
The class system itself is a relic.
"Your little brother still hasn't come home. What on earth is that kid thinking...?"
"Hasn't he? No word from him to me either."
"I know. Go on then. Don't get hurt. And don't make us worry like your brother does."
Clink— Her mother sets down her teacup with elegant poise. Rose leaves without a word, mounts the motorcycle parked in front of the house.
Vroooom—!
She drives like the wind, pasting and distributing wanted posters along the walls. With the expo less than a week away, Rose is devoting herself to her duties as a magical prosecutor.
You know, not the sword-wielding kind, but the ones who memorize laws and statutes.
"......"
After distributing all the posters, she arrives at work.
[Yuren Magical Great Prosecution Office]
She pushes open the door, and even on a holiday, the place buzzes with people moving busily.
"Good day. Good day."
Rose greets her seniors as she walks. They're not exactly thrilled to see her—more like avoiding eye contact... All thanks to the class system.
"Um, Rose."
"Yes?"
A senior calls her name. She responds promptly.
His face looks a bit burdened, but he hands her some paperwork anyway.
"Here."
"Yes. What is it?"
"Complaints."
"Complaints?"
"Well... Rose, you're a prosecutor, right?"
The senior scratches the back of his neck. Rose nods.
"Of course. Prosecutor. What else would I be?"
"Right. So, please don't go around investigating on your own like some detective, or chasing wanted criminals, or mass-distributing posters. That's why we get complaints like this."
"......"
She finally looks at the complaints. All of them targeted "Prosecutor Rose."
"......Ah~ Yes. I'll... Yes. I won't."
"And this is your actual assignment."
The senior pulls out a paper with the all-important red label.
Rose's eyes widen.
"What is it?"
"You know Professor Deculein, right?"
"......"
Her expression hardens instantly.
Of course she knows.
Deculein, the villain of the era.
"I... know. Wouldn't not know him."
Most Yuren citizens harbor strong resentment toward the Altiegue massacre.
To begin with, how could massacring people just because of their bloodline be justified?
"He's here for the expo, so escort him properly during the event schedule."
"......"
"Please. He values etiquette, so you'll fit right in. It's fitting. Perfect. No one else but you."
The senior speaks almost mockingly. Rose nods.
"......Yes."
"Now go."
"I will."
She walks down the hall, lips pursed.
"......"
She glances around, checking reactions.
Nearly everyone in the prosecution office hallway is side-eyeing her, whispering.
Because Professor Deculein is a hugely important figure.
Escorting him—officially just "protection"—would be tremendous credit.
She personally despises Deculein's actions, and thinking of her parents' faces makes her irritation surge.
"......They pulled strings again."
Thud—
Back in her office, Rose slumps into her chair, muttering weakly.
Pulling strings.
It's pulling strings again.
Her parents always shove her into positions everyone wants but she doesn't.
No matter how much she protests and rages, nothing changes.
......Still, when she gets home tonight, she'll throw another fit.
Bzzt—
Then, static crackles from her radio. Rose startles and responds.
"Prosecutor Sion here."
* * *
The moment the airship landed at the airport, reporters swarmed. With the massive crowd, I slipped out the back and arrived at Yuren's palace.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry. How could this happen...?"
In the palace reception room for state guests, Princess Maho bowed repeatedly, tears streaming.
I shook my head.
"It is not the princess's fault. Thieves could not comprehend the theory even seeing it with their own eyes."
"Even so...... Hoo...... The prosecutors are investigating now. Please wait a moment."
"Very well."
Maho scurries off, eyes glistening. Ifrin fumes beside me.
"Ugh, seriously! Which bastard—!"
"Silence. Rest in your cabin. I have an assignment."
I hand her my suitcase. Ifrin blinks at it.
"Told me to rest, now homework."
"Eight mana stones treated with the conversion formula are inside. You know what to do."
"......Yes."
"I permit you to write an experimental paper on the results. List yourself as author."
Ifrin's eyes widen round.
Magical theses are a university mage's career lifeline. If my conversion formula proves an "achievement," the paper's value will skyrocket.
I add softly.
"But keep silent on the time aspect. It must remain hidden for now."
......Yes.
She whispers back, then darts to her room like a spy.
As I head to mine.
"Professor Deculein."
A voice calls from the palace corridor.
I recognize her face immediately. Rose, one of Yuren's named characters.
"Airship investigation results are in. Magical residue detected, as the assistant said. They—"
"Compressed Summoning into an extremely narrow range to steal a single sheet of paper."
"Yes. Exactly. We're issuing warrants for mages skilled in auxiliary and manipulation series."
I nod. Point to the cage in her hand.
"More importantly, is the cat well?"
"Yes. Here."
Rose hands over the cage.
Meow.
A mew from inside.
Sophien, confined to the luggage hold since pets aren't allowed on airships.
"Unexpected. You keep a pet, Professor."
"Harbor such thoughts inwardly only."
"......"
I take the cage, open my room door. Rose follows.
"Your radio. I'll update you on progress."
"I accept, but no need for zeal. It is a theory beyond those fools' grasp."
"Understood. Noted."
Rose smiles faintly.
I enter, release the cat.
......God, she's so annoying. Ugh, gross. Arm hairs standing up from her fur.
Rose's faint thoughts seep in. The red-furred Munchkin narrows her eyes, growls low, arches her back.
"Why not briefly dispel the possession magic?"
"Hm. Indeed."
I nod, remove my coat. Don a plain black robe. Nothing distinctive.
"A place cats cannot enter."
"Yes. To procure items and investigate."
Ashes Heap holds much of Dikailen's legacy.
He spared nothing for the family's glory. No matter how lowly his status, how repulsive the Heap, he collaborated, researched, left his inheritance.
"No concern."
Grrr— The cat jumps sulkily, curls up on the bed.
"A theory I have immersed in lately."
"My invention, yes. But to complete Dikailen's theory."
The cat falls silent.
I adjust my robe sleeve, glance back. Her face is lost in sentiment.
"Yes."
"He is a loathsome ghost, true. But Yukline. Duty falls to me to uphold the former lord's will."
I pocket three steelwood rods, Frost Stone ever in my shirt pocket.
The cat glares sullenly, speaks again.
"Very well."
* * *
Al Ross wanders the Ashes Heap market, shopping for doll materials. The juicy rumors catch his ear.
"Deculein's theory stolen... Wonder what it was."
Al Ross mutters, opens the door to "Arms and Legs."
A shop selling animal sinews, organs, etc.
"Hey. Anything new today?"
The owner shakes his head at Al Ross's question.
"Too bad. Had some, but a customer just swept them all."
"......Swept them?"
"Yup."
Shrugs, points to the empty back shelf.
"All gone."
"......What asshole."
"Dunno."
Clink—
One silver coin.
The owner says,
"Tall guy."
Clink—
Another silver.
"Wore a black robe. Seemed like Yuren nobility."
"Yuren noble?"
Clink—
One more.
"Spoke Yuren tongue. That fancy, aristocratic tone."
"Hm......"
A Yuren noble in Ashes Heap.
Yuren and Heap are close yet far. One above ground, one below, but mountains block direct paths. Must skirt via the "dungeon passages" crawling with thugs and bandits.
Creeeak—
Then, the shop door opens again. Al Ross and the owner turn. Owner frowns; Al Ross smirks.
"......What day is it?"
Clack clack—
A group enters with haughty strides. Leather armor gleams under robes.
Too flashy for plain leather—shining silver, Yuren public force uniform.
"Owner."
A woman approaches, slaps the counter.
"Heard you chattering from outside. About Professor Deculein's theory."
"Did you? Missed it."
"......"
Al Ross watches, amused. The sky-blue bob woman shakes her head, pulls gold coins from her bosom.
"Really didn't hear?"
"......Hm."
Owner crosses arms, watches. She stacks gold: one, two, three, four, five...
Al Ross smiles inwardly.
Yuren native, but knows Heap ways. "Arms and Legs" owner's info network is legendary among Heap merchants.
"Guess you heard."
Fifteen gold seals the deal.
Owner sweeps coins, grins.
"Heard the thief who stole Deculein's theory is in the Heap."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Check 'Poison Demon's Bookstore.'"
"Yes. Thanks."
As the Yuren group turns to leave, owner stops them.
"Hey."
"......Yes?"
"One more tidbit. Fifteen gold, still owe you."
"Ah...... Yes."
Heap merchants are surprisingly honest. They crack Floating Island copyrights for cheap sales, but don't scam kin.
"Deculein's father is Dikailen."
"......Who doesn't know?"
"A man in the Heap chases Dikailen's traces."
Owner glances at Al Ross. He smirks; the woman asks,
"Chasing Dikailen?"
"Yeah. Exactly thirty minutes ago."
"What info is that?"
Al Ross steps in.
"You know Deculein and Dikailen weren't normal father-son? Dikailen's legacy here is very dangerous."
"......Dangerous?"
"Dikailen nearly blew this volcano in a magic experiment. Yuren must've been chaos too."
"......!"
Her eyes widen. Al Ross shrugs.
"The volcanic eruption fifteen years ago?"
"Yes. Dormant volcano here—"
Creeeak—
Then.
Door opens again. Three tense youths enter, scan around, approach counter.
"......Excuse me."
The woman mage speaking... Ifrin.
Stern-faced, she looks up at owner.
"Heard a Heap guy stole Professor Deculein's theory here. Any info?"
"......"
Al Ross chuckles blankly.
Did dungeon rats comb everywhere? Heap entry barrier this low now?