Volume 1, Episode 2
Even after the last dragon priest who had served Winter Bell died, time went on with cruel indifference.
Little had changed in Seherbian’s life, even with the dragon in the deserted, abandoned shrine.
The snowfields were still cold and barren, keeping other creatures at bay. Seherbian himself never ventured outside, and so he was gradually being forgotten by the world.
As on any other day, he lay curled on the shrine’s icy floor, sleeping in silence, when he twitched and sat up. Bright morning sunlight was spilling through the window.
He sat there as if he were a broken wooden doll, his movements halted all at once. With his eyes closed and only the sun on his face, anyone who saw him might have taken him for a corpse. But there were no humans left in the shrine now to witness the sight.
“You should get up, Lord Seherbian.”
He could no longer hear the kind voice of the priest who used to wake him each morning. Recognizing that fact all over again, Seherbian opened his eyes with a low sigh.
Jingle!
At that very moment, the tiny bell hanging from the pure white staff trembled lightly.
At the same time, a small but distinct whisper drifted through the winter wind. It was a voice only Winter Bell could hear.
“Winter Bell system activated. Welcome, Master. Three prayers related to ‘winter’ have arrived. Would you like to hear them now?”
“...I’m really not that curious.”
A lifeless voice slipped from his lips.
Whether Winter Bell wanted it or not, the staff periodically gathered wishes and impressions like this. The white staff was a Guardian assigned a special role: to automatically notify him of people’s hopes related to winter.
Because the seasonal guardian dragons existed to keep the world in balance, they had to hear such related keywords whether they wished to or not.
Even if the Winter Bell in question had already lost all interest.
Seherbian slowly lifted the white staff up before his eyes.
Mimir.
Mimir, Winter Bell’s personal ceremonial staff.
It was a Guardian born with him when Winter Bell first opened his eyes, a sacred instrument said to be one of the great World Tree’s branches. Not only Winter Bell, but all the guardian dragons who each upheld a different pillar of the world carried one of these branches, through which they could gaze into the world.
Of course, even if they did not want to.
Jingle!
“Here are the representative impressions I searched out related to winter: ‘The Day I Broke Up with Her.’, ‘My Frozen Heart.’, ‘Love Is Merely a Luxury for Me...’.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Mimir, symbol of divine authority, was far too earnest for its own good.
I wish I could just throw the whole thing away—friendship from the day I was born and all.
To Winter Bell, who wanted nothing more than to quit the role of guardian dragon, the white ceremonial staff Mimir was nothing but a loud, irritating tool. But since it was part of the World Tree, he couldn’t destroy it or cast it aside.
Seherbian snorted at the alarm Mimir sent him, then flopped onto the snow like a languid alley cat. The thick blanket of snow felt warm and soft to him, a comforter of cotton beneath the sky. He truly thought everything was too much trouble.
Jingle!
“Mimir, mute voice.”
The moment he gave the order, Mimir’s constant chatter fell silent as if it had never existed.
With the ridiculous seasonal keywords the staff had been droning in its emotionless voice now gone from his ears, he felt much better. But no matter how much he was the master of Mimir, he still could not make the bell itself stop ringing.
He stared at the staff bell rattling more fiercely now, as if urging him to get back to work, and then lazily dropped a hand with a look of annoyance. The cold touch of the snow against the back of his hand felt sweet.
I’m this comfortable because I’m doing nothing at all.
He didn’t understand why everyone else rushed around so much. Seherbian muttered to himself inwardly.
In the end, dragons were merely proxies who had inherited a portion of divine power. They were not omnipotent beings, as humans imagined.
All dragonkind instinctively knew their own roles, and without anyone telling them, they carried out their duties. Among them, the seasonal guardian dragons—the Bells—had an especially strong instinct to keep the world running according to its natural order.
Until not long ago, Seherbian Winter Bell had been one of them.
And then, at some point, Winter Bell changed his mind.
Ah. Does there really have to be four seasons every single year? I’m done.
What did he gain by working so hard?
Dragonkind had been born at the very top of the world already, so they received no special reward according to how much work they did.
So whether they labored a great deal or a little, there was hardly any difference at all.
It was right then, while Seherbian lay sprawled lazily in the snowfield, that something entered his sight.
“...?”
In that cruel field where life had a hard time surviving, a dry little tree was peeking its head up from the snow.
Still lying down, Seherbian rolled toward it.
This winter butterfly tree has a lot of flower buds.
Seherbian Winter Bell, lord of the snowfields, carefully tidied the surrounding snow with delicate hands so the tree would not be completely buried.
Let’s see. One, two, three, four...
The winter butterfly tree was one of the few plants that bloomed in winter. It sent its roots deep into the frozen wasteland, drew moisture from the snow piled over the earth, and stretched out its narrow, sharp branches strongly enough to endure the blade-like wind carrying the chill.
A small winter butterfly tree raised under the blessing of the silver dragon was now bearing fruit at last. In the white snowfield, waiting to bloom, there were no fewer than seven soft blue buds.
You grew so well.
Watching the tiny life that had somehow forced its way into bud even in this cold season, Seherbian felt quietly pleased. In response to that feeling, snow began to drift gently from the clear sky.
The cold surrounding him deepened as well.
“Ah, sorry.”
Seherbian belatedly noticed the frost that had begun to cling and freeze over the winter butterfly tree’s branches. Wincing a little, he narrowed his eyes.
Bell was a dragon that called the seasons.
The moment his emotions shifted—joy, sorrow, anger, delight—the weather around him changed too. Even if he had not meant it, nearby living things could be harmed.
Even a winter butterfly tree, hardy as it was against the cold, would not do well if exposed to such intense chill any longer. Seherbian stepped back slightly so the tree would not freeze to death.
Time to go back.
It was obvious that staying longer would do the tree no good. So Seherbian turned away without hesitation.
As soon as he returned to the dragon shrine, Mimir in his hand gave a faint jingle.
Jingle!
“Winter Bell?”
At that moment, someone’s voice rumbled from the far side of the shrine. It was low, but to Seherbian, the lord of this domain, it came through clearly.
“Winter Bell, are you there?”
It was the first visitor he had received since Roan passed away. But Seherbian’s expression only grew more irritated.
A visitor, yes—but an unwelcome one.
Rather than welcoming the intruder, Seherbian simply sat down on the icy floor and went limp like a sleepy cat.
After some time had passed, the guest who had finally found him stopped atop a hill of piled snow and looked down. A shadow bent in a human shape fell over the white.
“...What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
In my house, without even asking permission.
As though the unspoken rebuke had reached them, the intruder who had broken into the shrine chuckled.
“Oh dear, was I not supposed to come? Hmm. You don’t look all that busy, so I—”
“What brings you here without so much as a word?”
The sharp reprimand came back at once.
The unfamiliar guest already knew Seherbian would be uncomfortable with them. The fact that the cold dragon of winter had not immediately thrown them out was reason enough to be grateful.
Winter Bell had always been like this, but...
For some reason, today he felt even colder than usual.
The one with the hood pulled low over their head gave an awkward laugh and shrugged.
“Oh, come on—no word? I sent you a messenger through the World Tree’s branch a month ago, and you never answered.”
“...”
With a little jingle, Mimir seemed to say, See?
Seherbian fell silent, only now realizing that he had been the one who failed to check the message.
“I know you don’t usually read your messages, but this is the sort of thing you don’t wait on forever. And, well, I was worried too.”
Seeing that nothing seemed to be wrong, the intruder smiled with a hint of relief. Seherbian asked lazily,
“What kind of thing would make you this impatient?”
Amber eyes and golden eyes collided in the cold air.
“Akibell.”
Akibell, dragon of autumn.
That was the identity of the intruder with those mysterious gold eyes, carrying herself with an air that was at once solemn and light.
The gold dragon wisest among all the Bells.
If one were to call someone impatient, the summer dragon would have fit the description better. The dragon of autumn was always leisurely and wise, never one to move rashly.
Especially not in a case like this, where autumn had crossed into winter’s domain.
Which meant she had a message she absolutely had to deliver, even at the cost of breaking her own principles!
Seherbian roughly understood the situation and narrowed his eyes.
Only then did Akibell pull back the hood she had been wearing.
“Why that face this time?”
“Oh, this one works well on humans. It’s the age they find easiest to respect, or so they say?”
She answered with a wink, in the form of a stooped old woman.
“And you’re soft on old humans too.”
“...If you’re going to spout nonsense, get out right now.”
“Hee hee hee.”
Akibell laughed playfully at the sight of Seherbian’s furrowed brow.
Though he put it that way, it was true that Winter Bell had always had a weak spot for children and the elderly.
But if she kept teasing him any further, she really thought he might get angry, so Akibell quickly changed tack.
“All right, all right. How’s this form?”
Whoosh—
A teasing breeze swept by, sending the hem of Akibell’s clothes fluttering.
In the blink of an eye, she straightened her bent back and transformed into a young woman with long, caramel-colored hair.
Brushing the cascading strands back over her shoulder, Akibell smiled again.
“Winter Bell, may I sit beside you?”
“Suit yourself.”
“Oh, thank yo—!”
“You came in however you pleased anyway.”
“...Ahem.”
Still as chilly as ever, but satisfied simply by not being thrown out on the spot, Akibell sat down beside Seherbian with a soft plop.
She glanced at the white staff that kept jingling at irregular intervals and asked casually,
“Um, don’t you need to check those alerts?”
“It’s fine. I muted the voice on purpose. Ah, is there no way to mute the vibration too? It’s annoying.”
At that, Akibell’s eyes went round for a moment.
The World Tree’s branch was practically the gods’ messenger granted to the Bells. There had never been a dragon who found it bothersome!
Mimir jingled even more insistently at Winter Bell’s bizarre and irreverent attitude, but Seherbian ignored it completely and set the staff down on the floor with a dull thud.
Jingle... jingle jingle...
At last, Akibell tore her eyes away from the pitifully whining Mimir and swallowed dryly.
Don’t pay attention to it. Don’t pay attention to it.
Forcing herself not to look over again and again, Akibell drew in a long breath.
“Hoo. So?”
“...?”
“Tell me, then. What exactly is the problem?”
“...What problem?”
At that calm response, Akibell slapped both hands onto her knees with a sharp smack, unable to contain her frustration any longer.
“Winter, I’m talking about winter!”
Only then did Seherbian let out a short, “Ah,” and close his mouth again. Now that she was finally speaking in a way he could follow, Akibell fixed him with a serious gaze.
“A hundred years.”
“...”
“For the past hundred years, winter has not come to this world. That may mean little to us, but it doesn’t to the other races. There are even countries where all records of winter have vanished from history.”
“So what?”
“Winter Bell.”
The gold eyes that had always been full of kindness had rarely hardened this tightly before.
“Winter is disappearing from this world. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“It means I’m not doing my job.”
“Yes, that’s right. And also—”
Akibell added in a grave voice,
“It means the balance of the world has begun to collapse.”
“...”
Seherbian fell silent for a moment. He had predicted this outcome too. He knew what calamity would come if the dragon gave up on keeping the world in order.
And yet...
If it’s hard either way...
Even the winter he brought into the world was called a disaster.
If neither path could spare anyone pain, wouldn’t it be better to stop working and simply let the disaster come?
Thinking that much, Seherbian frowned faintly before letting his expression go lax again. While he did, Akibell continued speaking.
“Please don’t reject the sacred mission granted to you by the gods.”
A sacred mission.
The Winter Bell’s gaze turned cold as he looked at the golden dragon speaking so casually of the gods. But Akibell, not noticing the subtle shift, finished firmly:
“We Bells were born to be the regulators of this world.”
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