Hervena Westriver

A few mornings later, two carriages stood before the Deblique estate. The one in front would carry Blow, Jane, and Hans; the one behind was packed tight with sacks of potatoes and the rest of their luggage. Blow and Hans were leaning into the rear carriage, making one last check that nothing had been forgotten.

"Potatoes loaded properly?"

"Yes. We took them straight off the farms."

"And the spices?"

"Mostly salt and pepper."

"That'll do. We agreed to get the butter once we're there."

Blow lifted the cloth over the potato sacks, glanced beneath it, and walked with Hans toward the front carriage.

"What did you pay for the potatoes?"

"About twenty silver."

"A little over six sacks, isn't it? Cheaper than I expected."

"Rumors that the price would crash even further had already driven it lower than the last time I went to market."

"Did you talk them down yourself?"

"I think I shaved a little off."

"You've got a knack for it. But at a time like this, pay them fair. Everyone's struggling."

"Well... once I mentioned your name, Young Master, they lowered it on their own."

"Did they? Why?"

He can't seriously be asking because he doesn't know.

Hans decided a laugh would serve him better than an answer.

"Haha. I really couldn't say. But I won't let it happen next time."

"Thin excuse. Still, thank you for coming all the way to Caipol. Starting out with just Jane was beginning to look bleak."

"The Baron told me I'm to attend you exclusively from now on. I have a feeling I fell out of the Madam's favor the last time you sold those things."

The quaver in his voice was a breath away from tears. Blow's eyes went to the Baron's room.

His mother had not objected to the selling. She had never, in the end, agreed to his going into trade. From the day he told her he would until this morning, they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had not shared a single meal. Even now, as he left, only a handful of servants had come out to see him off.

Blow kept his eyes on the Baron's room, still shut behind its curtains, then dragged a hand down his face and swallowed a sigh.

If I come back a success, that curtain will open. Low expectations are a lighter burden, at least.

Steeling himself, he turned to Hans at last.

"Let's go."

"Yes."

When the carriage began to move, the servants bowed as one, paying their respects to the young master departing. The estate drew slowly away. He watched it until it was very small.

Jane, seated beside him, cleared her throat and spoke in a calm voice.

"If you succeed, I'm sure she'll see you differently."

"I hope so."

"I'll work hard to make it so."

"Even the words help. Oh—Jane. Did you bring what I told you to bring?"

"You mean the contract with Hervena?"

"Yes. It might come in handy. Keep it safe."

"I will."

"Both of you, take the view in. We won't be coming back down for a while."

Instead of answering, Jane and Hans turned their eyes outward, just as he had said. For early winter, Blanya was mild. Across the plains, the grass swayed in quiet time with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the wind.

Around the time Blow left Blanya, at Capall Municipal Magic School.

Sunlight warm for so late in autumn fell across the outer wall of Petrus Hall, where the scores from the first examination had been posted in great sheets. Students crowded in front of them, chattering as they hunted for their own marks.

"Oh? It's Hervena!"

The shout brought a sudden hush. Heels clicked, and a path opened of its own accord. Dark purple hair cut in a bob, lips pressed tight, a shirt whose buttons clung on for dear life—short as she was, Hervena made herself known.

She walked without a glance for anyone around her. Half-lidded eyes, green in the light, rose as a matter of course to the very top of the posting. Her name occupied the highest place among the fourth years: first in her class. Perfect marks in every subject but one.

For her, that was simply how things were.

She yawned as if to prove it and started toward the lecture halls. A blond young man with carefully swept hair stopped her.

"Hervena! First again!"

The handsome blond addressing her was Julbert Mertios, third son of House Mertios, a family with no small weight in the politics of the capital. A year above her, in the fifth year, both his magic and his grades were thoroughly ordinary. He was, however, generous with commoners and never went about flaunting his great house, so among the students his reputation stood very high.

"Good day, Senior."

"Hervena! How on earth did you take a perfect score in flight?"

"I was lucky."

"Not a single person in our year managed one last year. I hear Skadi got a perfect score as well?"

"I think my flight falls short of Skadi's. The instructor must have looked kindly on me."

"Is there a teacher in this school who doesn't?"

Laughing it off, Julbert drew closer, glanced around, and lowered his voice.

"Hervena Westriver. Have you given any thought to what I proposed last time?"

"I'm still considering it."

"Others besides me have made you offers, haven't they?"

"...So you knew."

"The school is a narrow place, isn't it? I think competition is only natural. A talent like you going without proper patronage—isn't that a loss for the Serdia Empire itself?"

"I'm grateful for the words alone."

"I've already spoken firmly to my father. I told him a future archmage is sitting in the fourth year of Capall Municipal Magic School. Accept, and the house will support you without reserve, so you can devote yourself to nothing but your studies."

"I know the conditions. I heard them before."

Lately she had grown used to conversations of this kind, and she preferred to let them pass in a blur rather than answer too clearly. She had no wish to misspeak and invite a misunderstanding.

Noble heirs lined up before Hervena because the standing of an archmage had risen enormously. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠6 Great Mages who represented the Empire wielded an influence second only to the Emperor himself, and so the imperial palace and the noble houses alike were desperate to find those with the makings of an archmage and bind them close. To their eyes, Hervena—first in her class at Capall Municipal Magic School, called the second school in the Empire, and a student who had even skipped a year—was irresistibly tempting.

Of course, those gazes were still nothing but a burden to her.

She was standing there, awkward, when Julbert looked around once more, leaned in, and whispered at her ear.

"Hervena. Did you know?"

"May I ask what you mean?"

"What?"

Caught utterly off guard, Hervena drew her brows together. At the sharpness of her reaction, Julbert shrugged and went on in a deliberately easy tone.

"I had business in Splas not long ago. I heard it there."

"...Is it true?"

"Quite certain."

Hervena had no choice but to let out a sigh heavy enough to sink the ground. After he vanished, she had been living a peaceful school life, and the name Blow was nothing short of a nightmare.

"If that Blow Deblique comes back, you'll have to wait on him all over again. Are you all right with that?"

"That's a bit..."

"You could move first, before the barony sends word. Once that fellow comes to his senses, he'll be a nuisance to you again. Won't he?"

He smiled as he spoke, and from every angle the reasoning was sound. Her present master had nothing. He would return to school next year, and he would torment her again. Of that she had no doubt.

"...Thank you for telling me. Truly."

"Good. Give me a few extra points for being the one who brought you the news."

She answered with an awkward smile.

"I'll see you again. With good news, I hope."

With that, Julbert left, his aide James at his side.

Long after they were gone, Hervena was still standing where she was, blank with the shock that Blow had woken.

Once a person accepted one noble's patronage—whoever they were—taking another's was taboo. Proud nobles hated, above all else, being weighed against one another while someone shopped around. A decision, once made, was often irreversible, and as a rule one had to keep faith with one's master for a lifetime.

Her case was different. House Deblique could not offer proper support, so she was as good as free. The houses eyeing her were willing to cover every cost already spent on her and lay a premium on top, if only they could take her. Julbert, just now, had been one of them.

If she had considered only money, she would have cut ties with House Deblique long ago. But gratitude remained for the Baron and Baroness, who had found her abandoned on the roadside with nothing and sent her all the way to magic school. How such good people had produced a scoundrel like that, she would never understand.

So when Blow collapsed, she had thought the turn of events not entirely unwelcome. As first in her class, her tuition and dormitory fees were waived, and the barony sent enough for her meals. If she needed more, she helped the adventurers' guild now and then, or scraped by on scholarships.

After she graduated and became a proper mage, once she had repaid House Deblique to some reasonable degree, she had meant to think about what came next. Then, surely, she could enjoy a mage's full freedom, bound to no one at all.

And now, of all times, that scoundrel had woken.

The future she had drawn so carefully snarled in a single stroke.

"Fuck!"

Blood rushing the wrong way, she slammed her head into an innocent tree along the path.

After two days of hard travel, Blow's party reached Splas and decided to rest there for a day. While they were choosing where to stay, Blow asked Jane whether stopping in Splas made her uncomfortable. She told him, flatly, that she felt nothing particular about the place.

"Young Master, shall I look for an inn?"

"I'd appreciate it. Spend a little if you have to—somewhere we can leave the carriages safe."

Jane, who had been listening beside them, offered a quiet suggestion.

"What about the merchant guild? They'd store the goods properly."

"The guild? If you're all right with it..."

"If I speak to the guild master, he'll take them. If we're lucky, we might even get rooms."

"...Your life there really wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I was lucky. I'll go."

"No. We'll go together."

The moment they arrived at the Splas merchant guild, a guide who recognized Blow came running, and the guild master himself soon came down. Still the very image of a toad, the guild master of Splas heard them out and nodded readily.

"Of course it's all right! If anything, I've been in your debt. This is a fine way to repay a little of it."

"You were in my debt?"

"Yes. I was the one holding the scales, after all."

He must have liked Drenor quite a lot. Or was it the paintings?

Blow was thinking it while he watched the guild master's eyes slide away. The man smiled, all goodwill, as if there were nothing to worry about.

"If you ever have cause to stop by while passing through, you're welcome anytime."

"And if I really did stop by every time?"

"Haha. Then I'd be the one who's grateful. I suspect we'll have business together before long."

"With you, you mean?"

"Yes. I saw two carriages outside."

"Sharp eyes. Yes—the other one's loaded with potatoes."

"I hear Blanya's had a bumper potato crop this year?"

"Well informed."

"The weather's been unusually kind. You can leave the cargo in this building. Check it once before you hand it over, just in case—and when you go to the inn, show them this."

With that, the guild master held out a certificate stamped with his seal.

"Show this from now on, and you can use the guild lodgings without going through me."

"Thank you."

"This much is nothing."

...Is there something behind it?

Blow studied the guild master's amiable smile. Whatever the man was hiding, having lodgings in Splas—the crossroads between Caipol and Blanya—was useful in more ways than one. And Jane, whose mood he had worried over, was chatting easily with a few of the staff. So he set the suspicion aside, keeping only the smallest scrap of it, and decided to spend the night.

"Olivia on staff will help you check the cargo. I have work, so I'll head back up."

"Thanks for the trouble."

The guild master offered a bow and returned to his office. The guide who had been speaking with Jane stepped up to Blow and paid her respects.

"Young Master Blow. We met last time, didn't we? I'm Olivia."

"I believe we did."

"I'll show you the way at once."

Smiling brightly, light on her feet, Olivia led Blow's party toward the baggage carriage.

"I'll start with the cords tied at the bottom."

She was untying the canvas when a rustle brushed past their ears. Olivia stopped, glanced back, and the corner of her mouth lifted.

"Looks like we've got an uninvited guest?"

Blow's suspicious glare landed squarely on Hans.

"Don't tell me there's a rat."

"No! I checked every night!"

"All the way in? Really?"

Blow stepped in close and fixed him with a look. For an instant the old Blow flickered across Hans's mind. He swallowed dryly and answered without much confidence.

"W-well, not all the way in, exactly..."

"It's fine."

"Yes?"

"If a rat's chewed anything, we'll just take it out of your wages. At Caipol prices, of course."

The sense that something had gone very wrong set an earthquake off in Hans's pupils. Olivia, who had been watching in silence, spoke to him sidelong.

"I'll finish opening it."

"Go ahead. If it comes out, Hans will catch it."

"Yes! I—I'll catch it!"

Hans snatched up a shovel lying nearby, hands shaking. Olivia snorted a laugh, undid the lower cords, and flung the canvas up.

But everyone who looked inside could only stare.

"Huh...? Why are you...?"

For a rat, the silhouette was far too large. Brown hair. Olive eyes...

Romang's daughter, Melo, sat sniffling between the potato sacks and the luggage.