Meigan's Vacation
Only after a long while did Hervena and Skadi emerge from the laboratory. They sat on a nearby bench and said nothing at all.
The sky had gone dim, as if rain might break at any moment, and now and then a drop seemed to fall from above. Seeing it, Hervena lifted her palm. Droplets gathered there, falling one by one. At that faint chill a light returned to her eyes, and she clenched her hand tight.
…Face reality. Think about what can reasonably be done.
She looked at Skadi, who had been gazing up at the sky just as she had, and spoke.
"Let's look for it."
"For what?"
"A way that would be good for the young master… and for Teacher, too."
"……"
At words so full of sincerity, Skadi's sigh only deepened.
"They said magic is imagination made real. That it was born out of desperation."
"I think I caught something like that in the history of magic."
"Skadi, I'm… pretty desperate. There has to be a way. Or at the very least… I'll cut the trial and error down, even a little."
"……"
"I will. That's what I'll do…"
Skadi had nothing to add. There was strength in the words of her friend Hervena. Truly, when Hervena spoke like that, she even felt a pleasant certainty that things might actually get better.
And yet, at the same time, what Skadi felt was powerlessness. There seemed to be nothing she could do right now. Hadn't she already struggled just to follow the conversation between Hervena and Mnevoir? Mnevoir had asked her to help as well, but to Skadi it had sounded like nothing more than a kindness meant to spare her feelings.
And so, for the first time since entering this school, Skadi Hetaya was learning what regret felt like. What she could do was drink with them, listen to their troubles and tell them it would be all right, cheer them on with words that meant nothing. That seemed to be all. At that shallowness, that lightness, her eyes squeezed shut, swallowed by helplessness.
She hadn't said so to Hervena, but Skadi was no less desperate than she was. Above all, she wanted to keep this peace they had now—the peace of scraping through classes well enough, going to Blow's shop, gathering together over food Melo had made, nursing a beer, and talking about nothing that mattered.
Only then did it strike her.
…Ah. So that's it. Because I only ever did things halfway, there's nothing I can do, and I have to stand here facing this helplessness. I shouldn't have done it halfway.
Tears threatened to rise again, so unlike her, and Skadi looked back up at the sky. It was still dark, as if the rain might pour down at any moment. Watching it, she felt the clock she had stopped upon entering the academy begin to move once more. She rubbed her face this way and that with her hands, then smiled at Hervena in her own way.
"We've still got time, so let's think it through calmly! Teacher said whatever it is, it'll wait until after the exams."
"Right."
Only then did a smile find its way onto Hervena's darkened face. Seeing it, Skadi spoke in a deliberately exaggerated tone.
"And the trip's right around the corner. Completely ruined. I even finished preparing for the second exam ahead of time. Should we just not go?"
"Let's go and enjoy the trip. If we suddenly say we're not coming, the young master will only worry more."
"…Yeah. Let's do that."
After thinking a moment, Hervena spoke to her in a worried voice.
"I think it'll show on my face. What do I do?"
"Then just tell him. That guy might figure it out the second he sees our faces…"
"……"
"He watches us like a hawk. That guy."
The two looked at each other and slowly nodded.
"It'll work out. It has so far, hasn't it?"
After that they talked of lighter things—Hervena's friend Meigan, the food Melo had made, the white cat they had seen last time. Setting aside, for a little while, what had just happened, they laughed.
Then, at last, from that dim sky, a patch of blue peeked out now and then. Both Hervena and Skadi etched it deep into their hearts.
At that same hour, on the second floor of the Nyx Inn.
When Meigan drew back the closed curtains, the midday street filled her view all at once.
…To think she could actually sleep in this late!
Wearing a smile she rarely showed anyone, Meigan Browngrass promptly threw herself back onto the bed. From today, she intended to spend her holiday her way. Her way was novels in the morning, novels at noon, and novels in the evening—and only the most carefully chosen, stimulating novels, the kind that melted stress just by being read.
The book she was reading now was called How Precarious, My Lady of the Academy!!, and the next was In the Bedchamber of the Forsaken Lady Knight. She had already asked Hervena to secure every volume in advance. Hervena, who knew her tastes better than anyone, had selected nothing but utterly perfect novels and brought them to her.
I really did pick one excellent friend!
Back in Blanya she had been able to read only as rarely as beans in a drought. Now she could read practically without end. This was one of the reasons she had come up to the city—a reason known to Hervena alone.
When reading in bed started to give her a headache, she would go outside and walk for about twenty minutes. Twice a day was usually quite enough! The walking was only so she could catch a bit of air and concentrate on her books again. It was absolutely, categorically not exercise of any kind! And if something delicious caught her eye along the way, she always had it wrapped and carried it back to bed. Reading time was precious!
The generous young master, unable to bring her along on the trip, had pressed a whole gold coin into her hand and told her to at least buy herself something good to eat! Truly, her loyalty to him surged from the tips of her toes all the way to the crown of her head. Did the young master know—this brimming, overflowing loyalty of Meigan Browngrass…!
On top of that, Jane and Melo had even let her use the beds they slept in! Thanks to them, she could escape that stuffy room off the landing, if only for a little while. They were simply too kind. There was no other way to put it. Screwing up her courage to come to the city had been, truly, truly, the very best decision she had ever made.
Sorting through it all one by one left Meigan so happy that she at last began her devoted reading of How Precarious, My Lady of the Academy!!.
Two hours later, her back aching, she stretched, rose, and dressed in her going-out clothes for a brief breather before heading down to the first floor, where the entrance was—only to come face to face with two shadows cast all the way into the inn.
She waited a moment, thinking they might soon go somewhere, but the two pacing shadows showed not the slightest intention of disappearing. A bad feeling made her narrow her eyes without meaning to and look outside. There, of all things, a boy and an old man about his size stood before the inn like statues, staring straight in.
"Hmm……"
Seeing them, Meigan could only furrow her brow, feeling her peaceful holiday invaded. Even so, they might be guests of Young Master Blow, to whom she meant to give her entire loyalty, so she cleared her throat and slowly pushed the inn door open.
"Hello. We're not open for business today."
"Ah, hello."
Once she saw their faces, Meigan couldn't help a brief start of surprise. The boy who had greeted her was an Ain—one of the other races said to live in the south, different from humans. Dark-skinned, with a blunt nose, the Ain were a people who, even fully grown, stood only about half a human's height. He was dressed in the uniform of a nearby school, and the clothes were pressed so stiff and crisp that a great deal of someone's labor had clearly gone into them.
"Do you have some particular business?"
"Ah, I'm sorry, but could you tell me when Young Master Blow will be back?"
"He returns on Sunday."
"Ah. I see."
Silence flowed again. Strangely, the Ain boy just stood there without a word or a movement. Finding the peculiar sight unsettling, Meigan cleared her throat once more and asked.
"Did you make an appointment with the young master in advance?"
"No."
"If you give me your name, I'll pass it along to the young master, so please come again on Sunday. Or Monday."
"No. I'll wait."
Wondering if she herself had the day wrong, Meigan counted back from Blow's last duel, tilted her head, and said:
"I'm sorry, but today is Thursday."
"I know."
…What kind of conversation is this?
Meigan was realizing all over again just how easy the Barbarians had been to talk to—the ones she sometimes met at the place that was to become their future lodgings. And since the traditional method for dealing with people one simply could not communicate with was already well established, she stepped back and quietly shifted her feet into the inn.
"Then I'll be going."
"Yes."
Leaving them there, Meigan shut the door, locked it, and stood thinking about what she ought to do. She still seemed to need her airing-out, though, so she went up and down the inn's narrow stairs for about twenty minutes before returning to her room.
…They've surely gone by now. I clearly told them what needed to be said.
Thinking so, she poked only her head out and carefully looked through the window. Outside, the two Ain were still standing there, motionless as stone statues.
…Ah. This is bothering me.
After briefly wondering what to do, Meigan simply decided to flee into her book.
In the late evening, just before nightfall, Blow Deblique and his party arrived at the monastery.
Paulos Monastery, from which the whole panorama of the lake could be seen, was a truly quiet place, where only the occasional laughter of children and the cry of an owl could be heard. Built throughout in its characteristic arched style, it was a monastery of considerable size: a main sanctuary for prayer to the god Lunaria, lodgings and a dining hall where children and visitors slept mixed together, a brewery, and storehouses.
From its vast vineyards and wheat fields the monastery brewed liquor and harvested crops, earning enough to rank among the wealthiest places on the continent—yet it remained plain, without a single needless ornament. That was because the funds flowing in were, even now, being scattered across the entire continent under the name of Lunaria's grace. That money saved countless orphans, became daily bread for those starving to death, and turned into medicine that kept the sick alive.
Perhaps for that reason, even the abbot's room held only a single carved wooden crescent—the symbol of the god Lunaria—sitting alone upon the desk. Francis, the room's master and the abbot who had run the monastery for some twenty years, wore the very same patched clothes Blow remembered.
Facing him, Blow first covered his eyes, then his mouth, and finally pressed his palms together in greeting. It was the Lunaria Orthodox salute, meaning that everything one saw with the eyes, spoke with the mouth, and felt with the hands depended upon the god Lunaria. After the greeting, a warm smile spread across Francis's face as he looked at him.
"It has been a long time, Young Master Blow Deblique."
"It has been a long time, Abbot."
"You look well, Young Master Blow."
"That is thanks to your concern, Abbot. Thank you."
At that gentle voice, interest kindled in Francis's eyes.
"Young Master, have you had dinner?"
"Yes. I managed something simple."
"That's a relief, yes… Young Master, what brings you to Paulos Monastery? Have you come to offer a prayer to Lunaria?"
"We were headed for the Roten region, and it came to mind, so I stopped by. There are old memories here, too. Haha…"
In truth, it was because of Pilsner Paulos, which had already become the bosom companion of his soul. But saying so outright to that benevolent face would have made him look far too worldly, so he decided to put those words off for just a little while.
"Ah. You did well, Young Master Blow. But are you not attending school? It is a weekday."
At Abbot Francis's genuinely worried expression, Blow answered with a face that was quite composed.
"I'm on leave from school at the moment, and I'm running a business."
"A business?"
"Yes. Selling this and that."
For an instant concern crossed Francis's face. He quickly smoothed it away and nodded.
"I see. I shall pray that Lunaria's favor rests upon your steps, Master Blow. You said you will stay here tonight and tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Do you, by chance, still remember the spirit of our monastery?"
"Yes. That everyone must work…"
The words left Blow's mouth without his even having to try to remember. Francis smiled gently and asked in a calm tone.
"Then perhaps you could help us a little with the vineyard work tomorrow?"
"Ah, of course. I'd been wanting to see it again after so long."
Francis, who had been staring straight at his face, let out a hearty laugh and spoke in a soft voice.
"Young Master Blow, the truth is, I heard it from Sullivan."
"Ah, from the proprietor of Egg Bottles?"
"Yes."
"Heard what…?"
"That you have become clear. Seeing you myself today, I find it is undoubtedly true. You are truly welcome, Young Master Blow."
"……"
Embarrassed, Blow stood for a moment without a word. Then Francis, who had been looking over a few documents, shifted his gaze to him.
"Aubio will show you around the vineyard tomorrow."
"Haha. Aubio—it's been a long time since I heard that name."
"He has grown into a fine young man now, just as you have."
Aubio—younger brother of Marta, the current saintess, younger than her by a single year. Hearing the name, Blow couldn't help a tightness in his chest. He didn't seem to have a single good memory worth sharing with him.
"You needn't worry too much. Aubio is not a boy who dredges up the past."
"Yes. Thank you for telling me. By any chance, would it be all right if we prepared tomorrow's dinner?"
Brightening at those words, Francis nodded.
"Oh! Dinner, you say. We would be glad of it. Shall I excuse you from the afternoon duties, then?"
"We'll need to prepare the meal, so that would be better in several ways."
"I look forward to it. Is there anything we ought to have ready for you?"
"Potatoes, and salt and butter, should be enough."
"Potatoes? Hmm. I wonder if the children will be pleased, eating potatoes yet again."
At his worried tone, Blow answered at once, full of confidence.
"It'll be fine."
"You say it so confidently that I look forward to it all the more. If there are other ingredients you can use, I'll have them ready."
"Thank you for going to the trouble."
The reason Blow Deblique had brought up the meal was that he felt he would have to offer them dinner at least, if he was to have any chance of broaching the subject of the lager. After that, Melo, Jane, and Hans, who had come with him, exchanged greetings with Abbot Francis as well. Then the abbot, who had been stroking Melo's head, lifted his own as if something had occurred to him.
"Young Master."
"Yes, Abbot."
"Do you, by chance, remember Saintess Marta?"
"…Yes. I remember."
To Blow, whose voice had abruptly shrunk at the word saintess, the abbot added, his expression bright:
"The saintess should arrive here around the afternoon. How fortunate."
"What?! Is that true?!"
Hans, who had been longing to meet her, cried out in shock. Blow could only swallow a deep sigh at this coincidence that felt like fate.