Rain and Light
With those words, Yulia stepped up to Blow and held out an envelope marked with the white crow that stood for Caipol.
"Before I tell you what I've prepared, look at this first."
"This is..."
"A summons. The people from the Imperial Magic Bureau arrive in Caipol on Wednesday, and they'd like you at City Hall a day early."
"Better to cooperate, I suppose?"
"Yes. I... I pushed as hard as I could, and Tuesday evening was as far as I could delay them. I'm sorry, Young Master. I tried to hold it off until the morning of the day itself, but..."
"Don't be. This is more than enough."
Afraid she might take it to heart, Blow gave her an easy smile and studied her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles beneath them made her look thoroughly worn.
"You haven't been sleeping, have you, Senior?"
"Haha, no. It's the weekend, Young Master. I just went to bed late and got up late."
A bald-faced lie. Ever since the red rain fell on Caipol, Yulia had been sleeping two hours a night at most, doing everything she could to see Blow's affairs through. Somewhere in her heart she certainly hoped he would notice that effort — but now was absolutely not the time. Tomorrow he would have to go to City Hall, and she meant to take even a little of the weight off his shoulders. So she broke the settling silence in a deliberately light voice.
"I haven't been eating corn cheese lately, so I've lost a bit of weight, that's all."
"I can imagine. Melo's here — shall I have her make some?"
"What — really?"
"Yes. I'll see if we have the ingredients, and if not, I'll ask the household staff."
"If you would, I'd be far too happy."
Only then did Yulia smile in earnest, and a servant who had been listening beside them headed for the kitchen. Blow stepped closer to her brightened face and spoke lightly.
"Did you receive the city's summons yourself, Senior?"
"No. I stopped by Hills for a moment, and Haghia passed it along."
"Ah. I see."
"Haghia was so swamped she only noticed it just before I got there."
"I see. Then, as I said, I'll cooperate with the city as far as I can."
"Yes, that's for the best, Young Master. Otherwise they'll take you by force, and the picture would be ugly. I'll make it very clear to City Hall that they're to show you every consideration, so you don't come to harm."
"Thank you for looking out for me. Now I'd like to hear about what you've prepared."
Yulia's expression hardened with resolve, as if the moment she had been waiting for had finally come. Her lips were just about to part when the manor doors flew open, and Skadi came running toward them, hair a mess, as if she had flown in on magic.
"Blow!!"
"Hm?"
"Look at this!!"
Skadi thrust out a note and a potion — the ones Christina had given her. Blow swallowed dryly and took the note.
That same day, Monday evening. The basement of an abandoned building on Scampia Street.
Redfrin, sipping coffee and snickering among her comrades, looked over at Beatrice — legs propped on the desk, lighting a cheroot — and asked, "So Blow's going to City Hall tomorrow evening?"
"Yes. It came from the informant we planted at City Hall, so it's solid. On Wednesday they'll hand him over to the Imperial Magic Bureau in front of the crowd."
"Ooh. Then this damned Caipol ends tomorrow or the day after."
With that, Redfrin drained the rest of her coffee and stretched both clasped hands toward the ceiling.
"Don't let your guard down. Not even at the end."
"I know that well enough. One failed operation is plenty, don't you think?"
As she said it, Redfrin glared at Demian, who sat beside them looking even more sullen. Under the sudden weight of every eye, he rose and bowed his head deeply toward Beatrice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't expect three mages and barbarians in an empty Hills..."
"It was unexpected. Nothing to be done. Still — you said you had those two back-alley bosses thoroughly in hand?"
"Yes. I set it up so we can use them the next time we run an operation in Caipol."
"Not bad. This operation's main target is Lisleia anyway."
Everyone nodded. Mariel, who had been listening in silence, asked their leader in a trembling voice.
"Squad Leader... if Lisleia never shows, what will you do?"
"Then we take Mlnébeur. It'd be a waste of the trap we set. Redfrin and I will handle that. The rest of you just do your jobs properly."
The moment she finished, Narcis and Mariel pressed their hands together toward her.
The role given to the two of them and Demian was to sow chaos in the crowd when Blow was handed over to the Imperial Magic Bureau, and to secure an escape route if they succeeded in dealing with Lisleia. Because that was one of the most important pieces, Mariel and Narcis — who had spent the entire weekend on it — were more confident than they had been for any operation before.
"There shouldn't be any problems, but I'll check one more time."
"You should. Your work matters, if all of us are going to get out clean."
"Is Haller leaving first, with the vessel?"
"Yes. I'm meeting him later to talk. The next time we all meet, it'll be with Lisleia's head."
A sinister smile spread across every face. Redfrin licked her lips and broke into a snicker.
"Honestly, I wouldn't have any regrets if I died this time. It's been too much fun."
"And then you'd miss the really fun part? This is only the beginning."
"Is it?"
"Of course. Anyway, from here we move in two teams. If anything goes wrong, set off the signal magic."
"Yes."
Wednesday afternoon. Midwinter, and yet under a cloudless sky, the square before Caipol City Hall.
Anger, unease, fear, cynicism — and the anticipation of seeing something interesting. The crowd, each person carrying a feeling of their own, murmured loud enough to shake the square, but the moment the central doors of City Hall opened, the noise died at once.
A little time passed, and at last Blow Deblique emerged through those open doors, together with Mlnébeur and the city officials. With no charge against him, he was not bound. He looked as if he had come to a banquet — splendidly dressed, neat, and utterly at ease. Before long he climbed the steps of the platform in the square and looked down on them all.
The feeling was not a pleasant one. The scene before his eyes was exactly what a condemned man would see from the scaffold. Even so, Blow lifted his chin with a thoroughly confident air and looked down on everyone.
Whether they disliked that attitude or not, jeers began bursting from the crowd, brows drawn tight.
"Honestly. He turns the whole city upside down, and still acts that proud..."
"Even on the way to his death, a noble's a noble!!"
"Get lost, Blow Deblique!!"
Most of them found him insufferable. A few, though, tilted their heads, their feelings grown a little strange at that very confidence.
"He looks awfully young."
"He was an academy student, wasn't he?"
"To think something that terrifying is inside him... Is that why he can stand there so proud?"
The moment someone said it, the jeers around them died, and fear settled over every face at once. Blow, who happened to hear, let out a faint sigh and murmured to Mlnébeur beside him.
"Just as you said, Teacher. People fear what they don't understand."
"You'll learn that properly this time, Blow Deblique."
"Of course. Teacher, you could have waited in the hall and left. The city said that was fine."
At that, Mlnébeur shifted her gaze to him, shook her head, and said, "And leave my student behind? Where would I go?"
"Aren't you taking on a bit too much responsibility?"
At his idle remark, Mlnébeur smiled — barely there, if you looked for it.
A short while later, a white carriage entered through the southern gate of the square. White horses drew a white carriage trimmed in gold, the mark of the Imperial Palace. Every eye in the crowd swung that way at once.
"Th-the Imperial Magic Bureau!"
"Waaaah!!!"
Thunderous applause poured toward the carriage. From that alone, Blow could guess well enough what the ant-swarm of people in front of him felt as they looked at him — enough that it seemed a mercy Hills and Red Forest had survived at all.
"Blow. First time facing the Magic Bureau?"
"Yes."
"A little tension will serve you better than none."
"It should. But I won't be too tense."
"Right. You haven't committed a crime."
Blow had just nodded so that only she could see when attendants in identical white uniforms stepped down from the Magic Bureau carriage, which had pushed through the parting crowd to stop beside their platform. After them, last of all, came Gethier Ropert — short pink hair, glasses, a cold impression.
In the hush that had fallen over the crowd, he passed an attendant bowing to him and slowly climbed onto the platform. His sharp eyes moved back and forth between Blow and Mlnébeur.
"Hughes."
He murmured it, barely audible, his gaze fixed on Mlnébeur. Shackles closed around her wrists, and before them a golden magic circle unfolded to amplify their voices.
"From this moment, the Imperial Magic Bureau's transfer procedure begins. Before I read the order, I will confirm the facts. First — Mlnébeur Morgan. You know you are not being treated the same as Blow Deblique?"
"Yes."
"You recognized this Blow Deblique's danger, and still proposed that he remain at the Caipol Magic School. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Because one of the Six Great Mages, Lady Lisleia, would be coming to this city. That was what you guaranteed."
"Yes."
Before the exchange had even ended, cries broke out all through the crowd.
"Does that even make sense?!"
"Exile isn't enough! Kill them!!"
Even as the talk turned vicious, Mlnébeur took every voice without a change of expression, as if she had expected all of it. Gethier let out a hollow laugh at the sight of her, stretched out an arm to calm the stirring crowd, and went on.
"Next. Blow Deblique. You—"
"Forgive me for interrupting."
"Did you just cut me off?"
"Which is why I said I was sorry."
Has he lost his mind?
The back of Gethier's neck went stiff, and he glared. Blow's face didn't change at all.
"I'd appreciate it if you addressed me properly."
"...What?"
"I haven't wronged you, have I, sir?"
"......"
"And I certainly haven't committed a crime."
Look at this impudent brat. Had any of the people he'd locked away ever held their neck this straight? Strictly speaking, of course, the boy wasn't wrong. On the surface, he was going to the Magic Bureau to be examined. Even so — to look an agent of the Imperial Magic Bureau dead in the eye like that. Was he trying to play at the bravado of youth?
Gethier was staring him down, utterly dumbfounded, when the curses that had been aimed at Mlnébeur suddenly began flying at Blow.
"Have you ever seen anything so insolent!"
"To be that rude to someone from the Magic Bureau."
Ordinarily he would at least have made a show of restraining an angry crowd. Thoroughly furious himself, he no longer bothered, and pressed on with a few more questions. He did mix in a proper form of address, just in case being caught out on the formalities became a nuisance later.
"—And so, Young Master Blow Deblique. As of this hour, you are to be transferred to the Imperial Magic Bureau. Do you consent?"
"Yes."
The moment he finished, the crowd's voices swelled even louder.
"Throw him out of the city!"
"Get lost!!"
Trash came flying from them now and then. One piece struck near Mlnébeur's head. It must have caught her cleanly — blood burst above her eyebrow.
"Teacher!"
"I'm fine."
Blow's face hardened as he looked at Gethier. Gethier, expression grave, took up the order.
"From this moment, the order issued by the Imperial Magic Bureau—"
Pat.
A few raindrops struck the order he had opened. The sky, clear until just a moment ago, had filled with black storm clouds, and then the rain came down so hard you could barely see in front of you.
"Lord Gethier! I'll cast a spell. Please continue the procedure."
"Very well."
A golden magic circle formed above Gethier's head. It could not last even a few seconds before it shattered to pieces. In the sudden, uncanny downpour, the gathered crowd clutched their heads and began clamoring to get inside the buildings surrounding the square.
At last Gethier understood what it was, and his eyes found Mlnébeur — down on one knee, head bowed.
"This is...?"
A moment later, the raindrops in the air before Mlnébeur seemed to draw one another in, sketching a faint outline. Color spread through it, soft and vivid as pigment loosened in water, and then it became a woman in black, sleeves a good two handspans too long, with deep blue hair long enough to nearly brush the ground and clear, sky-blue eyes.
"G-Great Mage. I pay my respects."
Recognizing who she was, Gethier dropped to his knees in courtesy. Lisleia had just started toward him when a different kind of stir broke out at the eastern edge of the square.
"O-over there! Light just fell!!"
At the shout, everyone on the platform — even Lisleia — had no choice but to look that way. The eastern entrance, where a flash had struck down bright enough to blind, was strangely untouched by the rain. And in the midst of that light, a woman in white, chestnut-brown hair, staff in hand, was setting foot in the square with neat, quiet steps, like a blossom gently shedding its petals.