The Black Flame Witch (3)
“…There are some things I still find hard to swallow, though. Like that time I was left to milk a minotaur without any help. I didn't show it, but I was terribly disappointed.”
Pares went on talking without a pause.
An hour had passed since our supposed interview began. Her enthusiasm hadn't diminished in the slightest.
Someone else might have told her to be quiet.
I didn't mind.
To tell the truth, I wasn't especially interested in the Black Flame Witch's exploits. But watching Pares talk and laugh with such uncomplicated delight was pleasant.
Would this be what having a younger sister felt like?
She had said she was nineteen this year, though somehow she seemed far younger.
Her open curiosity suggested she'd been raised by affectionate, supportive parents.
That was no small matter. Becoming a witch was an increasingly promising career, but the seal witches used apparently prevented them from having children. Her family must have cared enough to support her choice despite that cost.
“I see. That must have been disappointing,” I said with a smile.
Pares blushed.
She looked away from me, cleared her throat, then straightened abruptly.
“Viscount Theorad!”
“Yes?”
“I've been talking about myself this whole time. Would you tell me about yourself?”
It was a strange request to make after arriving without an appointment.
But I wasn't offended.
It had been a long time since I'd spoken normally with someone, without worrying that every word would provoke some new disaster.
Still… what could I possibly tell her?
I'd been born into House Deharem and raised in the shadow of my father. My life had been quiet enough.
Since becoming head of the family, I'd been buried in work.
I'd certainly had more trouble lately, ever since meeting the elf, but I couldn't tell Pares those stories.
I thought for a while before an idea occurred to me.
“Have you ever heard of the Oblivion Monster?”
“The Oblivion Monster?”
“A creature from the demon realm. They say it sometimes crosses the Empire's borders when it's hungry.”
“…What does it do?”
“It steals people's memories. Someone attacked by it may lose anything from six months to ten years of their life.”
Pares's shoulders twitched.
I couldn't help giving her a mischievous smile.
“You look frightened. Should I stop?”
“Me? Not at all! I'm not scared of something like that.”
“Good. Then I'll go on. Don't ask me to stop halfway through.”
“I wouldn't dream of it. I'll be an adult next year! Why would I be frightened by a story?”
“It isn't merely a ghost story, you know. These attacks have happened often enough to appear in the Empire's history books.”
It's real?
For an instant, fear flickered across her eyes.
Her pride wouldn't let her admit it.
“That just makes it more interesting. Tell me!”
“Very well. I'll tell you about a man who actually encountered one. Listen carefully.”
I settled back in my chair.
“Once, a woodcutter gathering firewood near the Empire's border heard a woman weeping in the forest. He was a kind man, so he couldn't ignore her. When he went to see what was wrong, he found a beautiful woman sitting alone.”
“…And then?”
“He asked her why she was crying. She said it was nothing and tried to send him away. But he stayed and did his best to cheer her up.”
Pares listened with her mouth slightly open.
Seeing her so engrossed encouraged me. I continued, following the story I'd read in a history book.
“After he sat beside her for a while, telling stories and making her laugh, she finally stopped crying.”
“They spoke a little longer and then parted. But as the woodcutter walked home, he stopped in the middle of the forest.”
“Why?”
“He'd forgotten the way back. And that wasn't all. He'd forgotten his name, his age, and what he had been doing in the forest. Only then did he understand that the woman had been an Oblivion Monster.”
Pares swallowed.
“What happened to him?”
“He was too late to do anything. The poor woodcutter finally…”
“Finally?”
I slowly raised my hand.
Then I slammed the table and shouted.
“AAAH!”
“Eeeek!”
Pares sprang from her chair.
I couldn't contain myself. I clutched my stomach and laughed.
“Ha ha ha!”
It had been a long time since I'd seen anyone react so innocently.
“Oh, honestly!” she protested. “Don't do that!”
“Sorry. I didn't think you'd jump quite so high. You're less courageous than I imagined.”
“I wasn't scared! I was surprised! Now tell me what happened to the woodcutter.”
“The ending isn't very exciting. Imperial guards stationed along the border found him, and he began a new life.”
“What? That's all?”
“That's all. And yet you're sweating.”
Her cheeks burned.
“It's hot in here!”
“Let's agree that's the reason.”
“Don't tease me!”
She puffed out a breath.
“Still, the Oblivion Monster really is a horrible creature. Erasing someone's memories without permission…”
“I agree,” I said. “Even if it had reasons of its own, taking another person's memories without consent is unforgivable.”
I smiled and reached for my teacup.
Thud, thud, thud—
Someone was running outside the drawing-room door.
I glanced toward the sound, but didn't dwell on it.
Teasing Pares was far more enjoyable.
Meanwhile, Luikus had taken a broom and flown to the hill behind the mansion.
The fresh air rushed past her as she climbed.
Soon she saw the place the Association had described.
At the center of a garden fragrant with daisies was a patch of scorched earth, oddly distinct from everything around it.
So this is the Black Flame Witch's last remaining trace.
It was a conceptual barrier whose structure had baffled investigators for eighteen years.
The Association had recorded it as an unidentified, exceptionally high-order form of magic. No one had managed to explain its structure.
I've read about it, but this is the first time I've seen it myself.
Luikus slowly descended and landed among the flowers, broom in hand.
As she walked toward the barrier, something came into view in the middle of the charred ground.
A single flower.
I couldn't see that from above.
The barrier must conceal things from perception as well.
Someone with less magical knowledge might not notice the flower even while standing beside it.
Why would the Black Flame Witch go to such lengths to hide a flower?
Luikus stepped closer, then hesitated.
Hot.
The heat rising from the scorched earth grew unbearable as she approached. It dried her skin.
Perhaps she could cool the air enough to examine it.
She drew a wand from her clothing and prepared the incantation.
Before she could complete it, fire sprang toward the wand's tip.
Roar!
“Kuh…!”
Luikus stumbled back and dropped it.
The flames vanished the instant the wand fell.
She stared at the weapon on the ground, clutching her wrist.
Impossible.
The barrier had sensed an intruder's magic and reacted almost as though it were alive.
Such behavior might be plausible in a closed chamber with enchanted stones and a carefully controlled physical boundary.
But this was an open hillside, and the barrier existed through concepts alone.
Eighteen years ago, the Black Flame Witch had evidently accomplished something that modern witchcraft still could not reproduce.
How extraordinary was she?
Luikus knew the Black Flame Witch had played an important part in the war between witches and the Church.
She hadn't appreciated just how far beyond other witches her skill had been.
I wish I'd received my seal sooner. Perhaps I could have fought in that war.
Then she might have risen higher in the academy.
Perhaps a full professorship, instead of her present position. If everything had gone well, she might even have become director.
She caught herself indulging in the fantasy and shook her head.
Whatever her feelings about the mission, she would do her best.
Luikus retrieved the fallen wand and searched the ground around the barrier.
Like the investigators before her, she found no other traces.
It seemed the inquiry was back where it had started.
With a helpless sigh, she stood at the edge of the scorched earth and studied the lone flower.
Whoosh.
A strong gust swept across the hill.
Luikus grabbed the brim of her hat to keep it from blowing away.
Then she noticed something odd.
It isn't moving.
Not a leaf or stamen on the flower trembled in the wind.
It wasn't an ordinary living plant.
It had been created by magic.
Intrigued, Luikus turned her attention to the mana flowing through the barrier.
Beneath the fierce magical heat, she could feel a much weaker power concentrated in the flower.
Her skill let her perceive only fragments of the spell.
But they seemed to suggest what the flower was meant to do.
A vessel for someone's memories…
If Luikus understood the traces correctly, the Black Flame Witch had erased someone's memory here.
Rather than destroy it completely, she seemed to have preserved it in the flower, perhaps to return it someday.
Why go to such trouble?
Luikus could only study the flower itself.
Soft white hairs covered its narrow leaves, gathered around a white bloom.
She recognized it.
Edelweiss.
And the meaning associated with edelweiss was…
A precious memory.