Unbroken Shackles (1)
"I am terribly sorry we could not be of more assistance."
The archbishop, who held the highest authority in the Grand Duchy Temple second only to the Holy Emperor himself, offered his apology as he handed over a glass of cold water.
"There is no need for your Grace to apologize," Denise replied smoothly.
"Ordinarily, this would be the temple's duty," the archbishop insisted. "Causing Countess Beryl such trouble is reason enough for us to beg your forgiveness."
"I told you, it is quite all right. The oracle, once deciphered through holy power, turned out to be this monstrously intricate formula. What else was there to do?"
Oracles were meant to be interpreted by the temple's own priests and bishops using holy magic. The problem was that divine power alone was utterly inadequate for this particular revelation. The presence behind the oracle was so exalted, so overwhelmingly vast, that holy power could not divine an immediate answer. The absolute best the temple could manage after exhausting their efforts was converting the divine message into an immensely complex magic formula.
And so, Denise had been summoned.
When even Muniherr clicked his tongue and declared the riddle impossible, she was the only person left on the continent capable of cracking such an impregnable formula.
"If even Muniherr threw up his hands and admitted defeat, that was my cue to step in," Denise said. "Besides, if not me, who else could possibly decipher it?"
"I can only offer my deepest gratitude for your gracious words..."
The archbishop bowed respectfully, asking her to request anything the temple could provide if she required assistance, before quietly taking his leave.
Easy enough to say, but...
Denise stared at the array before her. It truly was an impasse. On the surface, it appeared to be nothing more than a clock face with a few hands, but beneath that simple exterior lay a nightmarish tangle of intertwined magical formulas. To make matters worse, it was not merely one complicated spell, but two entirely distinct formulas layered atop one another. It demanded her absolute, unbroken concentration just to keep the spell from collapsing while she painstakingly read the fragments of the oracle etched into the hands of the clock.
"Just what in the world is about to happen in the Grand Duchy for an oracle like this to descend?"
With a quiet sigh, she could only assume it was the will of two Spiritual Constellations and set herself back to her duty.
In previous years, the annual festival had felt more like an aristocratic banquet than a true celebration, but this year was different. Gone was the exclusionary gathering reserved strictly for nobility; in its place stood an open, vibrant festival that commoners and nobles of all ages could enjoy together.
"Well? Isn't it a lot more fun to hang out after sweating through a good workout?"
"Hanging out is fun even if you don't sweat first, you know!"
True to my word, I had agreed to accompany Renias to the festival as a reward for tackling her training so faithfully. In truth, I had already planned on checking out the night market anyway, though I framed it as a reward because I was genuinely grateful for how she had gotten angry on my behalf the day before. It was a good chance to take in the festive mood, and I also wanted to inspect the stock of magic stones I had been worried about yesterday.
Unfortunately, my concerns proved entirely justified.
"Hmm... Is it just my imagination? Those look like they belong to the academy..."
She really was remarkably sharp when it came to mana. Calling them academy property carried ominous weight, yet despite the crowds of students milling about the stalls, none of them seemed to notice. Every person possessed distinct mana, and stones charged with mana could hardly be identical. Just as she sensed, the stones powering the festival stalls had originally been supplied by the academy, which explained their superior quality.
My mind began churning over how to prepare for what was coming. Having lived through an event similar to the Orthoptera defense back in my previous timeline, I already knew two possible solutions. The catch was that neither could be carried out right away, and the risks involved were staggering.
A sudden clamor cut straight through my concentration.
"Renias, watch out."
"Huh? Whoaa...!"
Sensing immediate danger from the blatant recklessness heading our way, I pulled Renias against me on instinct. The distant murmurs of startled pedestrians and the pounding thud of iron-shod hooves had grown dangerously close in seconds. My ears hadn't deceived me.
"Out of the way!"
"Aieee!"
"Mister, are you all right?!"
"What kind of madman rides like that...?!"
The mounted riders tore down the street without the slightest intention of slowing down. Forcing horses through a packed thoroughfare was reckless enough, but barreling straight at pedestrians without even tapping the reins was sheer malice. They rode as if trampling ordinary citizens meant nothing to them.
"Who the hell are those bastards? You aren't hurt, are you?"
"Y-Yes! I mean, no, not at all, thanks to you pulling me away, Senior! S-So... you can let go of me now!"
"Hm? Oh. Right."
"E-Excuse me for just a moment! Why did it suddenly get so warm?! Ahaha...!"
She shoved my chest with both hands, whipped around, and shook her head frantically from side to side. Was she really unhurt? Before she turned away, I thought her face looked a bit flushed, though I wasn't sure if that had anything to do with the horses. Still, she said she was fine, and there were no visible injuries, so I let it slide.
After a moment to clear her throat and compose herself, Renias peered down the street where the riders had vanished.
"That's strange... Looking at that crest, they shouldn't even be in this region."
"Whose crest was it?"
"House Coutelli. They're based in the eastern part of Algenib Province. They almost never have business here in Revrant."
"...What?"
A cold chill shot up my spine. House Coutelli was a prominent family belonging to the noble coalition that stood in direct opposition to the Grand Duke of Ardelion. Why would their knights set foot in a public night market during the capital's festival? These weren't discreet retainers sent to gather intelligence; they were full-fledged household knights. It was impossible not to be suspicious.
"Senior? Wait for me!!"
I felt bad leaving Renias behind, but my legs were already moving before I could think. The creeping dread in the back of my mind told me something terrible was happening nearby. Household knights from House Coutelli—there was only one person they could possibly be after.
Sylvia.
I tracked the direction the horses had galloped, tracing their path through the alleys to where they had finally pulled up. And there, I found what they had come for.
My worst suspicion was confirmed.
Quiet? Smooth? Pleasant? None of those words belonged anywhere near a bustling festival. Yet even the most crowded venues had their blind spots. The evening had grown dark, and though the blazing lanterns of the market pushed back the shadows, there were corners the light could never reach. Even in a packed square, desolate pockets of emptiness remained.
"If you continue to resist, Milady, we will have no choice but to take you by force."
"I have no reason to return there! You know as well as I do that I've been disowned!"
"I have already told you that you were never cast out."
"So come along quietly. The master is waiting."
"Let go—let go of me! Why are you coming after me now of all times?!"
My teeth ground together the moment I recognized that desperate voice.
"Our apologies, Lady Sylvia."
Whatever was happening, one thing was clear: I had to get her out of there. And the chill pooling in my gut dredged up an ominous memory from my previous life—the memory of Sylvia quietly vanishing from the academy without a trace.
It was a rare holiday. Though the festival took place every year, this one felt entirely different from those in the past.
"Mmm~ Now this is what I call a festival! Don't you think so, Sylvia?"
"Even if you ask, I really wouldn't know."
"What? Haven't you been to tons of banquets and parties before?"
"Those were mostly high-society gatherings. Aside from that, well... during festivals, I was usually just dragged along to sit in a chair for inter-family networking..."
She had never experienced an open, carefree celebration like this. Her past had consisted entirely of exchanging empty pleasantries in stuffy ballrooms dictated by rigid etiquette, only to slip away into some cramped lounge to wait out the clock. When Henna heard that, she had given Sylvia a profoundly empathetic look, squeezed her hand, and wrapped her in an impulsive hug, muttering about how pitiful her dear Sylvia was. Sylvia hadn't quite understood what that was about, but the warmth remained.
"Just trust your big sis and follow along! Days like today are meant for having fun!"
"Is that so...?"
Truthfully, Sylvia hadn't planned on visiting the market. A new semester had begun, which meant new textbooks to acquire and supplies to prepare for upcoming lectures. But Henna had found her studious hesitation unbearable and dragged her out by the wrist. With the way Henna had packed snacks and planned the route, it felt as though they were setting off on a proper daytime picnic.
Once they entered the night market, Sylvia experienced things she had never dreamed of. Henna dragged her from stall to stall, pointing out charming accessories, haggling over affordable yet lovely trinkets, and handing her street food she had never tasted before. Walking hand-in-hand with Henna through the colorful stalls and laughing among the cheerful crowds had made for a genuinely wonderful evening.
Until those men appeared.
"Huh? Who are you?"
"Subdue her."
"Mmph! Mmmph—!!"
"What are you doing?! Let her go!!"
A strange man clamped a thick hand over Henna's mouth, dragging her backward into the shadows. Sylvia desperately unleashed a condensed blade of wind magic, but it glanced harmlessly off heavy steel armor. Henna thrashed fiercely until a sharp strike caught the side of her neck. Her body went instantly limp, and the assailant hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, vanishing into the darkness.
"Milady. It is time for you to return to the estate."
The moment those words reached her ears, Sylvia's heart dropped into her stomach.
No... It can't be. Please, no.
Her gaze drifted helplessly toward the breastplate of the knight confronting her. Stamped upon the metal was a crest she never wanted to lay eyes on again for the rest of her life.
"We have come to escort you to Count Coutelli's manor, Lady Sylvia."
Her shackles had never truly been broken.
Living as an ordinary student unbound by her bloodline, versus living as the daughter of House Coutelli. Lebrant Academy, versus the Coutelli estate. A life free from the suffocating weight of status, versus a life chained to a noble title. That estate had been a prison without bars; there was not a single fiber of her being that wished to return.
"I was supposed to be disowned! I have no reason to go back to that house!"
"I apologize, Lady Sylvia, but you still belong to House Coutelli."
"Don't lie to me! I haven't heard a single word from the family since the evaluations ended!"
She had known that silence meant her disposal, which was why she had been so sick with dread before the end-of-term exams. Count Coutelli's veiled threats to cast her out had been unmistakably clear. There could be no greater proof than his utter silence afterward.
Yet the knight remained completely unyielding.
"If you continue to resist, Milady, we will have no choice but to take you by force."
"I have no reason to be there! You know as well as I do that I've been disowned!"
"I have already told you that you were never cast out."
"So come along quietly. The master is waiting."
"Let go—let go of me! Why are you coming after me now of all times?!"
Sylvia struggled with every ounce of strength she possessed, but against trained knights, it amounted to nothing. The gap in raw physical power and martial prowess was insurmountable, and she was hopelessly outnumbered.
"Someone help me! Please! They're trying to kidnap me!!"
Desperate to avoid being dragged back into that nightmare, she screamed into the darkness, but the booming crackle of festival fireworks swallowed her cries whole.
"Haa... Troublesome to the bitter end."
"Our apologies, Lady Sylvia."
The knight reached out to seize her. Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear spilling over her lashes.
"Guh...?!"
"Who the hell are you?!"
A vicious kick slammed into one of the knights, sending him crashing into the cobblestones. The grip pinning Sylvia's arm snapped loose.
"Eh...?"
A lone figure stepped between her and her captors, raising a single arm to block their path. Strands of hair darker than the midnight sky drifted against the wind—a black so deep that even the radiant lanterns of the night market seemed unable to illuminate it.
"Are you all right, Sylvia?"
His name was Junon.