I Knew Nothing at All

Wondering if my eyes had deceived me, I checked the newspaper again.

The Castiel Ducal House. The second son. And black magic.

The enormous print splashed across the front page seemed to dance before my eyes.

"That raving lunatic bastard. So he really was a black magician…."

It had been nothing more than an offhand remark, tossed out while the two priests were trading opinions back and forth. I'd even made a point of adding, on my way out, that I was absolutely not saying any of it out of suspicion.

And yet the man truly had been studying black magic.

He'd even gone and built a secret laboratory inside his own bedroom, of all places!

"Young Master."

Alia let herself into the room and handed me a different newspaper. This one carried the story in rather more detail.

"According to the article, the research materials they uncovered date back at least several years. Honestly, what could this idiot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have been lacking—born into the direct line of a ducal house, no less—that he had to go reaching for black magic?"

"There is that saying you always keep on your lips, Young Master. That a human being is an irrational creature merely pretending to be rational."

"Even so, this is beyond the pale."

Now that I thought about it, the man had seemed excessively on edge from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very start. What sort of person delving into black magic would be right in the head, anyway? He'd mouth off like the game-noob he was one moment, then throw a shrieking tantrum over losing the next.

Knock, knock.

"Young Master. It's Hans."

"Come in."

Hans, butler of House Fahrenheit. His father's loyal right hand, and senior-most among all the servants.

"Yes, Hans. What is it?"

"Just now, the Count has called for you, Young Master."

"Me?"

"Yes. He asks that you come to his study at once."

"Understood. I'll be right along, so go ahead and let Father know I'm coming."

I could more or less guess why he'd come looking for me.

"It seems the Church of White Flame made mention of you, Young Master."

"That's what I assumed. Otherwise Father would have no reason to call for me."

Father and son we might be called, yet I had no memories between us to speak of. Worse still, the very notion of family felt hopelessly blurred to me.

Which is strange, really. Going by the memories of Heizen I inherited, these people are supposed to be my family.

I stepped out of my room and started for the study—only for someone to come striding toward me from up ahead.

Crimson hair, the unmistakable mark of the Fahrenheit family. Blazing eyes that made it unthinkable to so much as lay a finger on her. At the sight of that sharp, haughty, cat-like figure, I bowed my head at once.

"Sister."

Thud!

She shoved past my shoulder, ignoring my greeting entirely. Without granting me even a glance, she swept down the corridor and soon vanished from view.

"It seems Lady Hecate has run into something rather unpleasant."

Alia came up beside me and brushed the spot on my shoulder where she'd bumped it.

"Tell me about it. Her face is an absolute mess."

Hecate Fahrenheit. Heizen's elder sister, and the eldest daughter of the Count's house. A woman who treated her own younger brother like so much stone.

According to my inherited memories, Hecate had always been like this—bristling and needling toward Heizen at every turn. As for why, or since when, I had no way of knowing.

At this point I just chalk it up to what real siblings are like, and leave it at that.

It wasn't as though I'd ever be deeply entangled with her anyway.

I made quick work of the stairs and arrived before the study door.

"Father. I'm here."

"Enter."

"Excuse me, then."

Father sat at his work desk, leafing through something. Several sheets of pristine white paper—and the wax seal stamped on the envelope lying beside them….

The Church of White Flame. You again?

What message had the church passed to my father? I was about to find out exactly what.

"You've heard the news out of the Castiel Ducal House, I take it."

"Yes, Father."

"The second son was a black magician. A madman of a black magician, at that—one who had built himself a secret laboratory behind his own bedchamber."

Also a moron who poked that hornet's nest first and then pitched a fit when he got flattened at the game.

"And you had dealings with him, I understand."

"I already spoke with you on that matter the other day."

Making quite the show of it, Father tossed the church's papers across the desk toward me. As I looked over their contents, his voice drifted over from the far side.

"The church sent these. They say that thanks to your counsel, they located the decisive evidence without difficulty."

"I gave them nothing of the kind, Father."

"Did the priests at the ducal residence not testify that you told them the evidence would lie closer than they imagined, and to keep their eyes open? The priests who were present gave their accounts."

I never even knew the man was a black magician to begin with.He's dead besides, so it was nothing more than a jab at a corpse.

"Father. You're not about to ask me something along the lines of, 'And how exactly did you come to know the ducal house's second son was a black magician?'… are you?"

….

Oh, lovely, Father! Not a word of answer!

"How could I possibly have learned anything of the sort?"

"And yet the counsel you offered the church's priests—"

"I was already sick to death of being hounded by that lunatic throwing tantrums over losing at chess, and then the man ups and dies, and I have to trek all the way out to that distant estate to prove my innocence—which I found utterly infuriating. Then, as it happened, the priests there began suspecting him of black magic, so in a fit of temper I tossed the thought out. Just once. That is truly all there was to it, Father."

….

Had my heartfelt appeal actually landed? Father deliberated in silence for a moment, then looked up at me.

"You truly knew nothing, then."

"Yes."

"It was merely a remark made off the cuff."

"Yes!"

Even faced with my most earnest answers, his suspicious gaze did not relent. I was starting to worry I'd be taken for some oracle who could actually see the future.

"Very well. Off you go."

"I truly knew nothing at all."

"I told you I understood."

"Please don't go reading anything strange into this."

At Father's pointed urging to be on my way, I left the study.

This is exactly why I hate the church. They keep finding new ways to make my life difficult.

"Done already, Young Master?"

"Alia. It is time for a most pleasant tea break."

"Shall I send for Arka as well?"

"This instant."

Time to nurse my poor nerves gazing at our adorable, brilliant Arka.

"I shall take my leave, Father."

With that parting bow, Heizen disappeared beyond the door. The sound of his footsteps on the corridor floor receded, and before long faded away entirely.

….

Count Bastian Fahrenheit looked down at the papers spread across the table.

At first, he had wondered what on earth this was meant to say. How could Heizen possibly have offered counsel on the whereabouts of a black magic laboratory? He was no acquaintance of the ducal house's second son, and he had never once set foot on the Castiel estate before that day. And yet, on his very first visit, he had told them to begin their search close at hand?

I did worry the church might seize on that and raise fresh suspicions.

Fortunately, the church cast no doubtful glances on that score. Quite the opposite—they rejoiced, declaring that Solaris Himself must have passed by Heizen's side that day.

Clever child, that he is.

To put a finer point on it, the change had come five years ago. Until the accident in which he was thrown from his horse and lost consciousness, Heizen had been a perfectly ordinary boy. Then he woke in his bed one morning and, as though some great truth had dawned on him, began walking an entirely different path.

They do say a brush with death changes a man.

There was the orphanage he ran, which had earned him the name of Fahrenheit's Compassionate Young Lord. And unlike the other nobles, he had not leaned on his family's power to do it. Every coin had come from business ventures and investments he had carried to success on his own.

So the boy can look after himself without question now.

Bastian smiled at the thought of his son.

Which means, if anything, it is my daughter I must worry over now.

His thoughts turned to Hecate, only just returned, and Bastian bit his lip. The post she served at was none other than the Castiel Ducal House. Nothing would come of it directly, perhaps—but the atmosphere there would be wretched.

Even before all this, she did mention some strange fellow kept hanging about her. I can't say I like her odds.

Tremble, tremble.

Arka's hands shook as she clutched the newspaper.

She had felt nothing at all. Not even as she squeezed the life from him had she sensed so much as a whisper of it.

Because he was a damned piece of trash who had dared—dared—to defile her world. Because killing such filth by the hundred, by the thousand, would have been perfectly fine.

And so she had killed him. Without a flicker of hesitation, she had crushed the second son's heart to paste.

Who could have imagined the man had been nursing such a secret?

So that was why Heizen said it had to be handled quietly…!

Heizen had known what neither ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Empire, nor the ducal house, nor even the church itself had known. Knowing everything, he had deliberately drawn near to the second son in order to set it right. Had matters been left to him, he would surely have dealt with the man by some other means—of that there could be no doubt. He must have had his own grand design drawn up all along.

And yet he passed the chance for judgment on to me.

He had graciously accepted her rather presumptuous request. Perhaps he had even been testing whether she, too, was worthy!

"Miss Arka?"

Alia's voice drifted in from beyond the door.

Rustle-rustle-rustle!

Arka hurriedly swept away everything scattered about the room—the sketches of Heizen in all his dashing glory that she'd labored so hard over, even the densely packed sheets recording his every word.

"What is it?"

"The Young Master is calling for you. It seems you are to be invited to tea time."

"I'll come right away."

"I shall be waiting outside."

Even as she made herself ready to go to him, Arka's mind raced at a furious gallop. Heizen had seen straight through the monster that would feed on power and throw the world into ruin. And yet, regrettably, when it came to the execution itself, he had found himself forced to deliberate—for the Heizen of today possessed no true martial strength to speak of.

Then it came to her—the charitable enterprises Heizen had been quietly building. Could it be that he was already gathering those who would follow him? Was she not the very first child to be granted that honor?!

Of course. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It had been obvious all along—he needs an army devoted to him alone.

And Arka's Ominous Star began to shine in a direction entirely unlike anything it had shown before.