Winter Bell, Volume 1 Episode 8
There was no fixed span to a dragon’s life. So long as they were not slain, their existence was closer to immortality than to mortal death.
In the endless flow of time, dragons who had fulfilled their duty were taken in by the gods themselves. Yet because they could not die unless the gods allowed it, many of their kind grew weary of living and slipped instead into a long, long sleep.
Seherbian was no exception to that burden.
In other words, no one knew how long he would have to live as Winter Bell.
“That question is beyond my authority.”
This time, it was Seherbian’s turn to fall silent.
Mimir had always been like this.
A divine artifact said to be a branch of the World Tree growing in the realm of the gods. Of course, a World Tree was, at best, a tree branch with a mind of its own, but Seherbian had always felt a special attachment to Mimir. It was the guardian who had been with him since the moment he hatched.
So Mimir felt almost like an old friend, or a sibling.
Hah. A sibling, my ass. This thing never cared about anyone who wasn’t Winter Bell.
Seherbian had never expected much from Mimir, who always delivered nothing but stiff, mechanical announcements. He was just shaking his head at the staff’s response when the next words came.
“I exist for my master.”
“No, that’s not what I was asking—!”
“Whatever decision my master makes, use me for it.”
Seherbian, who had been rubbing his forehead in frustration, stilled and looked down at Mimir.
“What?”
He had assumed the staff would, naturally, pressure him to keep listening to people’s prayers.
Mimir was a mechanical existence whose job was to help Winter Bell faithfully carry out his appointed duty. On matters of the guardian dragon’s responsibilities, it always said only the “right” thing. A staff that rang its infuriating little bells and never stopped reciting human prayers.
And yet, for the first time, Mimir had reacted in a way Seherbian had not expected.
“Mimir.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You just now…”
At a loss for words, Seherbian took a moment to gather his thoughts, then raised the staff to eye level and asked again.
“Are you saying I don’t have to listen to prayers anymore? That I don’t have to fulfill my duty as Winter Bell?”
“That matter is beyond my authority. I cannot answer.”
“You just said that and now you’re pretending otherwise?”
“No.”
Mimir denied it firmly, but Seherbian’s hard expression softened, and he smiled faintly.
“I see.”
As though the gloom of a moment ago had been a lie, his mind cleared all at once. Seherbian lightly touched Mimir to his forehead. A white crow perched on his shoulder, its beak clamped around a small pouch.
“Thanks, Mimir.”
Rattle.
The bells attached to the staff gave a tiny shake.
“Door open.”
“Where would you like to go?”
The hesitation was brief.
* * *
Snow fell over Hartney Village again today.
As large, delicate flakes drifted down from the sky, the villagers hurried along with busy steps.
“Hey! That sign’s crooked!”
“The embers are dying out. Bring more firewood!”
“What about the statues?”
From the people hanging a new sign at the village entrance, to those hauling firewood on their backs, to the ones decorating stone statues all over the place, the village was the busiest it had been in a long while. Adults, of course, but even children old enough to handle carving had come out to help. Even those who had been bedridden were shaking the sheets off themselves and coming outside.
“Aigoo, Granny! We told you to stay in bed a little longer.”
“It’s cold out, so I’m fine.”
Though the healthy villagers tried to stop her, the old woman waved them off. Her face was pale from the fever that had struck her for no reason, but she wasn’t lying when she said the cold made her feel better. The patients who had finally gotten up from their sickbeds smiled with relief.
“Look at this. It’s such a beautiful winter, isn’t it?”
The spring plague, Laxito, was at its worst in warm weather. When they had fallen ill, it had been spring, with buds just beginning to sprout.
But now it was deep winter, with snow falling steadily.
The cold wind cooled the heat in their bodies, and the chill in the air seeped into their lungs, washing from head to toe. The veins that had swollen as if they might burst had calmed, and breathing had become easier.
For patients whose pain eased as the temperature dropped, winter was a season of blessing.
“Today, the royal mage himself is coming to our village. We can’t just stay in bed!”
“That’s right! Maybe the mage can cure this illness.”
The kingdom had sent a mage to a village where a plague was raging. If he was a royal mage, one who possessed the kingdom’s greatest magical knowledge, then perhaps he could cure them. Thrilled by the thought, the villagers were doing their utmost to make a good impression.
“Who’s going to guide the mage?”
“The lord can barely get out of bed because of the sickness…”
“I heard the young lady will do it instead.”
“Lady Kisha?”
Situated beneath the vast snowy expanse was a fairly large territory. But having a large landmass did not mean having influence. The snowfields were uninhabitable, and the mountains and plains below them were harsh. People lived in scattered villages, but the land was so barren it was difficult to farm or raise livestock. In this place of nothing but dry fields and caves, there was only one way to make a living: quarry white stone from the gypsum caves, carve it, and sell the sculptures.
The Hartney family, the only noble house with a title, governed the territory, but they had so little wealth and so little power that “lord” was, in truth, little more than another word for village headman.
“Hoo…”
Inside a tidy mansion with a green roof, a brown-haired girl looked out at the now-raucous village and let out a somewhat gloomy sigh. Her white breath fogged the glass and blurred her view.
“My, the village is lively for once.”
“Mom…”
Kisha turned with worried eyes. Her mother, who should have been greeting guests as the lord of the territory, was still lying in bed. Those whose symptoms were a little lighter could get up and move around, but not Kisha’s mother.
Since winter had arrived, the coughing fits that had once torn through her day and night with blood had stopped, but her complexion was still ashen.
A woman with the same brown hair as Kisha let it fall over one shoulder as she pushed herself up. Startled, Kisha hurried to her side.
“Don’t get up! If you start coughing again…”
“I’m fine. Thanks to the winter you brought home for me, the illness is getting better.”
Her mother smiled, even with her pale face.
But Kisha knew better.
Just because the weather turned cold doesn’t mean the disease is cured…
The spring plague, Laxito, could only be fully cured by medicine made from the Winter Butterfly Flower. Feeling better because the weather had turned cold was only a temporary reprieve. The disease itself had merely slowed down, and though it was no longer racing through their bodies, it still gnawed away at their health like mice chewing through a wooden wall.
“Kisha, are you very worried about meeting the mage? Should I just go out instead?”
“No. It’s not that.”
Kisha draped a soft quilt over her mother’s shoulders, who looked as though she might rise from bed at any moment. Illness might be weak against the cold, but human bodies were vulnerable to it as well. Rather than exposing oneself to too much chill, it was better to stay reasonably warm.
“It just seems strange, no matter how I think about it.”
“Strange?”
“The people high up in the royal court.”
Even as she drew puzzled looks, Kisha pressed on.
“They never paid us any attention before. No matter how many times our village asked for help, no matter that people were getting sick, they just ignored us every time.”
Not only Hartney Village, but many regions had recently been suffering from the plague. And yet the royal court had continued to turn a deaf ear to the pleas of the suffering.
Those with money hired healers, priests, or mages to keep themselves alive, while those with power went abroad to obtain good medicines if they had to.
But remote villages like Hartney had no such options, and still they received no answer at all.
“Only after they heard that ‘winter’ had appeared again in our village did they finally start paying attention. Do you really think a royal mage is coming to save us?”
“Don’t worry so much, dear.”
The Hartney lord’s thin fingers brushed Kisha’s hair back from her face. With eyes the same green as her daughter’s, though somewhat dimmed, the woman comforted her.
“It’s a good thing. No matter how, they’ve taken notice of us.”
The royal court’s gaze had finally fallen on the coldest, most barren northern territory of all. Under normal circumstances, it was a miracle that would never have happened.
“If we were too far out on the frontier to be seen until now, then let’s make sure they see us clearly this time.”
Kisha clenched both hands tightly in her lap.
“Tell them there are many sick people here, and that we need help.”
Her mother’s voice was very warm. A different temperature entirely from the snow falling outside.
“They’ll listen this time. They came all the way here to hear us, didn’t they? Right?”
“...Yes.”
Only then could Kisha manage a faint smile. The anxiety in her heart gradually settled. Borrowing courage from her mother’s encouragement, Kisha gathered herself and made her appearance neat.
Her father had closed his eyes when Kisha was still young, so now it was only her sick mother, her younger siblings, and Kisha herself who had to care for the household and the village.
Wrapping a large red scarf around her neck, Kisha stepped outside the mansion into the falling snow.
Heeh-hiii!
The whinny of a horse reached her ears distantly.
From far off came a heavy pounding that made the ground tremble, and for a moment she could not tell whether it was a heartbeat or hoofbeats.
Soon, along the white stone road, a splendid carriage appeared. Two horses pulling a body marked with the royal crest of Alpherius snorted harshly as they came. Behind them, the soldiers assigned to escort the carriage lined up in formation.
Kisha stared blankly at the royal carriage, something she had never seen in her life, and then snapped to attention at the sound of the door opening. The girl folded her hands neatly and stepped forward, bowing politely.
“Welcome to Hartney Territory.”
“Hmm?”
The royal mage, who had disembarked with attendants, lifted a thick eyebrow.
“It’s a child?”
“Ah, I…”
“Hey. Is there no one in charge around here?”
The mage asked the nearest guard with a frown, not even glancing at the ten-year-old girl before him. The guard looked flustered and darted his eyes between Kisha and the mage.
Just as Kisha was about to step forward, deciding she couldn’t let this continue—
“I am—!”
“It seems the plague has left the territory in such poor condition that overall management has broken down.”
The knight who had come down with the mage ran a fingertip along the cracked wall and clicked his tongue.
“A plague?”
In an instant, the mage’s expression twisted as if he had spotted a bug. While he hurriedly tightened the thick hem of his already heavily wrapped robe, the knight glanced around the area.
“Yes. A magical plague. It seems many people are already infected.”
The spring plague, Laxito, was unusual in that it spread through magical power. The disease passed when the abnormal magical energy in the atmosphere, warped by the disappearance of winter, penetrated the body.
The knight and mage, whose resistance to magic was strong, were excluded from that concern.
“There aren’t even proper fields or management facilities inside the village where people actually live. The only farmland we passed on the way here was a vineyard that had dried up and died.”
“Hmph. I’d heard there was a noble house, even if this is just a barren country territory. The treatment here is truly pathetic.”