Editing Kaze no Kishihime v2c4

Duke Eustache’s residence stood not far from the Champ de Mars parade grounds. Built upon an enormous tract of land that dwarfed the estates of ordinary nobles, the mansion was so vast that one might easily mistake it for a royal palace. Foreign visitors unfamiliar with the city sometimes did exactly that, assuming this was the true seat of power.

Indeed, the lavish four-story manor was known among the citizens of Tristain in hushed tones as the “New Palace.”

Its master, Duke Eustache, sat upon a sofa, listening to music emanating from a magical phonograph. The melody that filled the room was warm and gentle, like a brook flowing through spring fields, but Eustache’s brow remained furrowed. With his irritation mounting, he abruptly picked up the machine and removed the glass vial inside. Water shimmered within it, carrying the information that reproduced the music. He selected another vial and inserted it into the phonograph. A mournful tune began to play. He listened to it in silence for a while, but soon blue veins rose on his pale face, and with a violent motion he hurled the phonograph against the wall.

The crash of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed through the room as the broken remains scattered across the floor.

“Damn it all! Is there not a single piece of music that matches my present mood?”

At that moment, a hidden door in the wall behind him slid open, and a beautiful blonde woman dressed in black shrine maiden robes stepped into the room.

“My, my. What a waste.”

It was Noir. Wearing her usual benevolent smile, she looked every bit the picture of a devout priestess.

“And whose fault do you think it is that I smashed it?”

Eustache turned and fixed Noir with a cold glare.

“Oh? Has something happened?”

“Has something happened? Don’t play coy! Who told you to turn an entire town into puppets? Thanks to that, there has been an uproar!”

“But, Your Grace, you did say to leave the method to us.”

“There are limits! And what was the meaning of targeting them while they were accompanying the princess? On top of that, you failed!”

Eustache shouted at her in anger, but Noir remained perfectly composed. Her serene smile never faltered as she gazed at him as though soothing a child throwing a tantrum.

“And because of your blunder, I was forced to relinquish the guard assignment I had worked so hard to obtain. How do you intend to take responsibility for that?”

“What is it that Your Grace truly desires?”

“Haven’t I told you? I intend to become king of this country.”

“So you were serious.”

Noir laughed lightly.

“Of course I am. Who do you think is truly running this kingdom? Me. Who is the man wearing the crown in that palace? What has he ever done? He nearly bankrupted the realm. At heart he is nothing more than a soldier. And yet, merely by virtue of his bloodline, he sits upon the throne. I cannot tolerate it.”

“Then why not simply take it? That is what you always do.”

“If it weas that simple, I would have done it long ago. But when the prize is the throne itself, matters are not so easy. Whether it is made to look like an accident, or accomplished with poison, the scent of murder always lingers somewhere. And when that happens, the first person to be suspected is the one who inherits the crown. I have many enemies. Rebellion would erupt immediately. That is why everything must be carried out with the utmost care.”

“How timid you are.”

“And what is wrong with caution? I fight only battles I am certain to win.”

Prudence was Eustache’s greatest weapon. That was why he had moved against the Magic Guard in the first place. By securing the royal protection detail for his own trusted knights, he had increased the chances of his plan succeeding.

“So your intention was to manipulate the king into surrendering the crown?”

“Hmph. I have devised a better method. I will make him kill his own daughter.”

A smile spread across Eustache’s face, chilling in its coldness.

“And in full view of the public, no less. Once he is declared mad, the crown will roll neatly into my hands. And as an added bonus, the troublesome princess will be removed as well. Two birds with one stone. But your current methods are inadequate. Anyone can see those corpses are animated by magic. This affair demands subtlety. There must not be even the slightest hint that they are being controlled.”

He waved a dismissive hand.

“Go back and tell your uncle this level of craftsmanship is unacceptable. Create puppets so flawless that no one can detect they are being manipulated. If you cannot do that, your funding will be cut off.”

Still smiling, Noir bowed and withdrew through the hidden door.

“Honestly. I can never tell what that woman is thinking.”

After muttering to himself, Eustache rang a bell.

A moment later, another woman entered from the adjoining room.

She was a girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with shoulder-length black hair. Her drooping eyes and slightly rounded face gave her an appealing softness. She was not strikingly beautiful, but she possessed a warm, approachable charm.

She looked at Eustache with fear in her eyes.

Manacles bound her wrists. Upon closer inspection, iron shackles and a heavy ball-and-chain were fastened to her ankles as well.

She looked like a prisoner.

“Um...”

“What is it?”

“Please... take these off...”

Tears spilled from her eyes.

“That cannot be done.”

The girl collapsed to the floor. She seemed utterly exhausted, her face pale and her breathing ragged.

“...What about her? About Amias?”

“She is fine. Alive, and properly fed.”

The girl let out a sigh of relief before slumping fully onto the floor.

“Hey. What’s wrong? It would be inconvenient if you died. I have work prepared for you.”

“...I’m hungry.”

Her voice was barely audible.

“Well, you have gone without for an entire month. What an inconvenient creature.”

Muttering irritably, Eustache chanted a spell and made a small cut on his fingertip.

He held out his bleeding finger.

The girl extended her tongue. She caught the dripping blood upon it.

A strange light flickered in her eyes, and fangs emerged between her lips.

“What troublesome creatures vampires are. Human blood is the only thing they can stomach.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, as though enduring humiliation, but she could not suppress her hunger. Her tongue remained outstretched.

“That is enough. I cannot afford to lose too much blood.”

Eustache cast a brief healing spell, sealing the wound on his finger.

The girl looked up at him with a pleading expression.
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“Please... let Amias go... let my little sister go...”

“Dulcinea. If you succeed in your next assignment, I will set you free.”

“...Really?”

Dulcinea looked up at him with a pleading expression. Her face was that of an innocent girl who knew nothing of the world. Eustache smiled.

Vampires often possessed remarkably alluring faces. They were tools meant to lull prey into lowering their guard and drawing near. Eustache loved that duality. Then again, strip away the thin veneer, and human beings were much the same.

It had been about a year since Eustache acquired the vampire sisters. He had captured them using his own men. Whenever some troublesome matter arose, he would occasionally assign “work” to the elder sister, Dulcinea.

Could Uncle truly create a more convincing puppet?

Until then, this girl would serve as a temporary measure. If the target was the Magic Guard, she might actually be the more convenient option.

“...Who do you want me to go after?”

Dulcinea asked in a weary voice.

“Hm.”

Eustache tilted his head in thought.

Beneath Duke Eustache’s mansion stretched numerous secret passageways, known only to the duke himself and his closest confidants. These tunnels reached all across Tristania and were one of the tools that enabled Eustache to act as a king in the shadows.

Noir emerged from one such underground route into the cellar of a certain inn. When she ascended to the first floor, the innkeeper glanced at her and immediately lost interest. It was an establishment under Eustache’s protection.

Outside, evening already began to descend. The streets were nearly deserted, and the only sound was the cawing of crows returning to the forest.

Pulling up her hood, Noir walked down the empty road. Despite the deepening darkness, her steps remained steady. Leaving the main street behind, she turned onto a side path and continued onward.

Soon a small forest appeared before her. The dark woods loomed like some giant beast sleeping beneath the night sky. Noir stepped into the forest.

After walking for some time, the trees opened up to reveal a large communal cemetery. It was a burial ground for commoners, marked by rows of simple gravestones. Under the cover of night, the cemetery radiated an unmistakable eeriness.

Any ordinary woman would have been too frightened to enter.

Noir, however, did not change expression in the slightest as she made her way between the tombstones. At last she stopped before a particular grave marker and crouched beside it.

Feeling for a cleverly concealed switch hidden beneath the stone, she pressed it. A series of mechanical clicks sounded, and the gravestone slowly shifted aside. Perhaps out of fear of Detect Magic, no sorcery had been used in its construction.

Beneath the gravestone lay a staircase descending into darkness.

Noir started down. After descending quite a distance, she reached a corridor. At its end was a chamber about the size of a modest dance hall. Large glass containers stood in rows. Shelves overflowed with bottles of strange elixirs. A foul smell drifted all the way to the entrance. Smoke filled the air, though magical ventilation devices placed throughout the room wriggled ceaselessly, drawing in the polluted air and replacing it with clean air. The hum of those devices mingled with the sounds of countless magical instruments, producing a discordant noise that grated upon the ears.

In the midst of the experimental apparatus stood a short elderly man.

Noir approached him.

“I have returned, Count.”

The old man known as the Count turned around.

Perhaps because he spent all his time underground, his face was deathly pale. His white skin was deeply lined with wrinkles, giving him the appearance of a wax figure. His hands were rough and permanently reddened by chemicals. Long white hair hung down to his waist.

He looked less like a man than a ghost.

This was Count Ghouville, Eustache’s uncle.

Since his youth, he had devoted himself to necromancy—the art of reviving the dead. Even after being cast out from his house, he had continued his research in secret. Recently he had reunited with his nephew Eustache, who now funded his work.

“Oh? And how did it go?”

His voice emerged from his throat as a rasping croak.

“He says creations of this quality are useless.”

Count Ghouville’s face twisted.

“That boy. Even as a child he was absurdly demanding.”

“He says that if we cannot create better puppets, he will cut off all funding...”

Ghouville’s eyes flew wide open.

“What? What nonsense is he talking about? I am so close! So very close! My research is nearly complete! And at a time like this...”

Noir placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

“You have my sympathies.”

Ghouville shook his head in anguish.

“...Why? Why is it not enough? I know. I know, even without my nephew saying so. Those things are nothing more than living corpses. They are moved only by the power of Water. They have no will of their own. They cannot think or act independently. They simply pursue their objective like ants.”

Ghouville looked up at Noir with a wistful gaze.

“You, however, are different. Perfect. My masterpiece.”

“You honor me.”

“Something is missing. But I do not know what it is. If only I had the Andvari Ring, would things be different?”

Then he shook his head.

“No, no use dreaming of the impossible. I could never obtain the Andvari Ring. There is something else. Something needed to restore the heart. If I only had that... my kingdom would be complete.”

“A world where no one ever fights.”

“Exactly.”

“A wonderful world overflowing with nothing but love.”

“Yes! In that world, no one would quarrel or despise one another. They would cherish and care for each other. A true utopia. But without a heart, it is meaningless. Nothing but an illusion. Utterly worthless. Ironically, just as that fool Joshua Eustache says.”

Ghouville looked up at Noir.

“I want the former lover who killed you. There may be some kind of key hidden within him.”

Noir smiled serenely.

“Thank you for giving me such a delightful assignment.”