The Black Flame Witch

At the Empire's only academy for training witches—the Weaving Turbulence Academy—the director was having a difficult morning.

“I'm exhausted…”

Above the director's office, a vast glass dome glittered like a collection of jewels.

Director Weedra sank deeper into her soft chair, letting out a weary breath. A confidential letter from the Witch Association lay in her hands. She had known it would arrive after the recent meeting, but that didn't make its contents any less troublesome.

“Oh, honestly…”

She made a plaintive noise and curled up in her chair.

“Director.”

Luikus spoke sharply.

It was bad enough to be summoned without explanation; watching the person who summoned her sit there muttering to herself was testing the professor's patience.

Under her long, wavy hair, green eyes flashed with displeasure.

Weedra cleared her throat and reluctantly sat up straight.

“I told you I'd read through the official document once more. Can't you wait a moment without making such a fuss?”

“Shouldn't you have read it before calling me here?”

“As I've said, this matter is rather—”

“That's a straw-man argument. Don't twist what I said to avoid answering it.”

Weedra frowned.

She was a professor, an Association elder, and the academy's director. Surely she deserved some respect.

Then again, demanding deference just because she was older would make her look like an insufferable old fool.

What a miserable world.

She clicked her tongue.

“All right. I'm sorry. Happy?”

“Was that meant to be an apology?”

“I'm damn well sorry! Is that good enough?”

“Director…”

“Fine, fine! Let's discuss why you're here, Senior Professor Luikus of Weaving Turbulence.”

Luikus's eyebrow twitched.

Weedra smiled as though she hadn't noticed.

“How strange. I'm sure I summoned Luikus, but she isn't answering me. Have you been replaced by a doppelganger?”

“…”

“Oh dear. A real doppelganger? Then please leave and send me the real Luikus!”

Luikus's temper was close to boiling.

Still, the woman before her had fought in and survived the Witch War and now served as an elder of the Association. Even Luikus couldn't entirely ignore such a history.

“…I'm not a doppelganger. Tell me why you summoned me.”

“You should have said that from the beginning.”

With a triumphant smile, Weedra set the letter down.

“I'll get straight to the point. Take Pares and go on a trip.”

“Where?”

“To the middle of the Empire. You know the County of Pelgaroin? Visit House Deharem there. It's a sizable mansion; you won't have trouble finding it.”

Luikus stared.

What sort of order was that?

“For what reason? As humans generally keep out of witches' affairs, witches have no reason to interfere in theirs.”

“Except in special cases. And this is a special case.”

“What makes it special?”

“The Black Flame Witch. The last place she was known to have visited before she disappeared was the Deharem mansion.”

“The last confirmed sighting?”

“Apparently. About eighteen years ago, she went there and vanished without leaving a trace. By the way, have you been speaking rather casually to me this whole time?”

“Perhaps you're imagining it.”

Luikus ignored the complaint and considered the implications.

“Then the Association has resumed its search because of the reported Gwangpung Black Spear? And you want Pares and me, the first people to find that supposed trace, to handle it?”

“Exactly! You really are clever, Luikus!”

The director's cheerfulness only made the professor more suspicious.

“You don't seriously intend to find her, do you? You're sending us to a place that's already been investigated repeatedly, with Pares along because she's a first discoverer. It looks like an exercise in telling the public that the Association is doing something.”

Weedra's smile disappeared.

She rested her chin above the desk.

“We have little choice. If the Black Flame Witch felt threatened by an investigation and came back, we'd have to reopen the affair from twenty years ago. The witches only managed to unite after the war with great difficulty. I don't intend to see that unity broken apart again.”

“…What happened twenty years ago?”

“It involved the Church of Balance. If it came to light, we'd have no end of trouble. That's all I can tell you. Even among the elders, very few know.”

Luikus narrowed her eyes.

Twenty years earlier, witches had finally won full freedom on Walpurgis Night. What disgrace could have happened amid such a victory that the Association was unwilling to seek out its own legendary heroine?

“Are you protecting the Association's interests?”

Weedra shook her head without the slightest trace of amusement.

“What personal benefit would I gain? I fixed my appearance at fifteen with a seal when I was young, but I'm over sixty now. Many of our elders are older still. The bond of fate established by those seals could end at any moment.”

Luikus said nothing.

“And witches cannot bear children. How much personal gain can old women like us expect to enjoy? We want the society that's finally beginning to flourish to survive after we're gone.”

In other words, Weedra claimed the Association was acting for the future of witch society, not for private advantage.

Luikus could find no obvious deception in her words.

She nodded, though reluctantly.

“Very well. As long as the allowance is paid. What about my classes?”

“I sent notice that they'll be canceled for about two days. The students were delighted. Apparently they won't have to face the ‘Menstrual Witch’ for a while.”

“…”

Weedra snickered.

“Menstrual Witch! What have you done to your students to earn that? Perhaps I should put up another notice. ‘The Menstruation Witch is away’ sounds rather grander, don't you think?”

“Director.”

Mana surged around Luikus's clenched fists.

Weedra looked down and broke into a sweat.

“Sorry. That was too much. I really do apologize.”

“Say it again.”

“…I'm sorry.”

Weedra cleared her throat.

“Anyway! Take Pares and leave for Deharem immediately.”

“Now?”

“Yes. For the past few days, Association message sheets have been flooded with questions about the Black Flame Witch. The Dokwol Guild is demanding a renewed investigation too. We have to show that we're acting.”

“And if the head of House Deharem refuses permission?”

“Then you return. The important part is showing the public that we made the effort.”

So it really is just a performance.

Luikus had little admiration for such an arrangement, but the Association was offering to pay her.

“Understood. I'll take Pares and go.”

“Good. Oh, one more thing.”

Weedra leaned forward, lacing her fingers.

“You still run a private mercenary company, don't you?”

“…What of it?”

“Transfer it to the Association. We can arrange payment from the profits it generates.”

Luikus frowned outright.

“Why would I do that? And what does the Association want with my mercenaries?”

“There are ugly rumors circulating in the capital. Some believe war may be coming. If it happens, we'll have difficult choices to make. Those choices will require forces we can command together.”

“Director, war is a human affair.”

“I know. But the Empire's possible enemies aren't all human. If one disaster follows another, even our home could be lost.”

Silence settled between them.

Luikus found no ready answer.

Weedra leaned back in her chair.

“Luikus. If you live in a turbulent current, don't let yourself be swept away by it.”

What does that even mean?

Was that another of the director's terrible attempts at wordplay? She was, after all, responsible for giving the academy its ridiculous name.

It's always an act with her.

Perhaps looking fifteen encouraged her to behave like a child. Or perhaps she was determined to enjoy the youth her appearance promised.

Luikus sighed and turned toward the door.

“I'll think about it.”

---

Noon the following day.

At last, my office was quiet.

Sunlight filled the room. I could sit comfortably, drink coffee, and read a book—exactly the peaceful routine I'd hoped for.

Rustle.

I turned a page and lingered over the poet's words.

After another fifteen poems, however, I closed the book. My thoughts kept returning to what Havid had told me that morning.

It seems she's still in considerable pain from her first intercourse. She has a fever, so I've told her to rest for the day.

The elf hadn't even got out of bed.

She'd endured blows from weapons made to hunt monsters without so much as a complaint. Why was she ill now?

Could intercourse really have made her suffer so badly?

It was her first time…

I wasn't a woman, so I couldn't know what that particular pain felt like. But I'd read that it could be severe.

An elf might be unusually resilient, yet that didn't mean her body could ignore everything.

If her fever was my doing, I couldn't pretend I bore no responsibility.

Still, perhaps she was putting on a performance to draw me closer.

The thought seemed entirely reasonable.

I raised the surveillance ring and activated it.

Whoosh.

A blue rectangular viewing window opened before my eyes.

The elf was lying in her bed, the blanket pulled to her neck. Her complexion was poor.

So Havid hadn't exaggerated about her fever.

My guilt deepened.

I dismissed the viewing window and left the office.

Up the stairs, along the corridor, and finally to her door.

I knocked.

“May I come in?”

There was no answer.

After a moment's hesitation, I opened the door.

“I'm coming in.”

The room was plain: a bed, desk, chest of drawers, and little else. I found a small chair, brought it to the bedside, and sat down.

“Ah… mm…”

The elf was murmuring in her sleep.

Her cheeks were flushed, and the way she breathed suggested she was genuinely unwell.

I laid a hand against her forehead.

Her forehead felt feverishly warm.

Is this really because of me?

I hesitated, then used life magic to cool the hand resting against her skin.

“…”

Her expression eased.

It was a relief, but I couldn't remain there forever. Perhaps a damp towel would do the job.

I started to lift my hand.

The elf's face twisted again.

“Don't go…”

She was talking in her sleep.

I placed my cooled hand back on her forehead, and she settled.

Time passed.

My arm grew tired, and the whole business became thoroughly dull. Yet whenever I tried to move, she looked miserable again.

If only the chamberlain were here.

He could fetch a towel. Calling loudly for a servant, on the other hand, might wake her.

So I sat there in silence.

Looking down at her sleeping face, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Then I remembered what she'd put me through.

One humiliation after another flashed through my mind.

Wait a moment.

Wasn't this the perfect chance for revenge?

Even an elf couldn't fight back while sleeping so defenselessly.

With my free hand, I pinched her cheek.

Her soft skin stretched between my fingers.

“Ah… uh…”

She grimaced, but I wasn't especially moved.

Compared with all I'd suffered, this was a trivial little repayment.

Another five minutes. Surely that wasn't asking much.

I gave her cheek another mischievous tug.

Her eyes opened.

And I was still holding her cheek.

“Uh…”

I froze.

Her cloudy gaze slowly sharpened. She turned her head, found me beside her, and moved her dry lips.

“…You…”

Her voice was weak, but there was something dangerous about it all the same.

“…What…?”

Very, very slowly, I released her cheek.

I cleared my throat.

“Allow me to explain. This is a dream. Go back to sleep, and when you wake, you'll be in the real world. So sleep well. As for me, I'll just…”

I began to rise.

The elf's cool stare stopped me.

I sat down again.

Even I could tell that excuse had been ridiculous.

She opened her mouth once more.

“I asked what you were doing.”

There was no softness in the question.