LETTER 3

Miss March—

The end of wartime signaled the advent of a new day, an era of peace where even literal demons can be friends, but everywhere I turn, I see that humanity’s hatred for each other remains as strong and solid as usual. To be very clear, I do not like that.

I am writing this right after returning from a surprise meeting with a messenger from the Kingdom of Admari, who was accompanied by another messenger, a trade messenger serving an Admarian Lord, a certain Lord du Pont. The Lord claims patronage over a particular trade name, a Couleur de la Nuit Corporation, a merchant company apparently owned by a Mister le Clerc, who was acquainted with the Lord’s nephew by means of shared education. Both messengers warned me that they came with the intention of filing claims of foul trade action by the Kingdom of Lenamontis, as apparently one of their storehouses had been raided by a ‘dark and mysterious power’.

The royal messenger was a very young man, probably someone approximately my own age. His face was so thin that I could see his skeletal features with no problems, but he otherwise composed himself well, with his back straightened up and his shoulders open wide. The trade messenger, however, was notably older, probably forty years of age or such, and he cautiously eyed me with such a scrutinizing look. Thankfully, I’ve gotten used to such scrutiny from the Royal Court, most especially during my official appointment as Manus Dextra, so he did not particularly bother me. I was more wary of the Admarian royal messenger. Young ones tend to be less predictable.

According to the Admarian royal messenger—who introduced himself to me also as a Mister de la Fleuve—the investigative division of their Judicial Body found evidence of Magic activity which signature was consistent with the explosive magic used by Lenamontis military.

“More specifically,” he said, furrowing his large eyebrows and tightening his very thin cheeks, “I find these consistent with mana recovered after the use of Lenamontese explosive spell.”

Pardon the language, but I still find myself wondering if that thin skull of a face was supposed to describe how much of a skullhead this young man was.

In order to fully explain why, I must take one step back to celebrate one of our few successes that probably led me to writing this. It was done only very recently, an initiative unlike ever before: with persistent pushing from Lady Dreyhilda, the Alliance has opened doors for scholarly pursuits across borders. Specifically, pursuits in what Lady Dreyhilda coined to be ‘Arcane Arts’.

In fact, most of what I have described regarding the arcane in my previous letters were based on what I’ve learned from Lady Dreyhilda herself when she outlined her proposal to me. It began with a simple inquiry: elven arcane arts are known to be able to suppress human magics, and the Empire’s Holy Magic is known to suppress both. Demonic arts seem to overwrite both the elven and human arts, although to differing degrees depending on the individual demon. Why this hierarchy? Why couldn’t humans touch elven arts, and why do elven arts seem to be so horribly inefficient for instrumentation?

Although most elves seemed to have chalked it up to racial hierarchy, they have always clammed up the moment demons were brought up. Lady Dreyhilda, however, ever since living in the Mansion with Miss Scarlet, always quietly observed the demoness for her magical habits. One day, Miss Scarlet used a simple flame magic to ignite the lights in our Mansion as the sun sank into the horizon, and as she snapped her fingers, a similar idea was lit in Lady Dreyhilda’s mind.

Being an elf herself, Lady Dreyhilda intimately knew the ins and outs of her own arts. She knows more than her own peers, even, as she was renowned as the Sage of the Ages. Sir Tanaka specifically went to her to be trained in the magic arts, and no one in this part of the world has never heard of her renown. She was the sole elf responsible for the codification of much of humanity’s magics, way back from the time our kind started using the arts to fight back against the demons. I’m almost certain you must also know her, Miss March, although I personally find it odd that you’ve never discussed magic with our family—especially with me, as your youngest pupil!—given your reputation.

It was thanks to her daily encounter with Miss Scarlet that Lady Dreyhilda began investigating her own suspicions regarding how Arcane Arts work, and why the Holy Empire seems to have such superior magic. The answer was simple: they don’t.

What they had was not Magic at all.

I will probably delve into the details later, but the mechanism with which our Magics function is very distinct from how the Holy Magic works. So distinct, in fact, that even Lady Dreyhilda proposed to call it something else in order to drop the ‘Magic’ from its name: Miracles.

What Sir Tanaka and the Upper Priestesses of the Holy Empire had used this whole time was no Magic, but Miracles.

And Miracles do not leave mana residue like Magic does.

If anything, the fact that Miracles don’t leave mana residue was a rather important factor in how Miss Cath and Miss Artia were kept safe from their pursuers during Sir Tanaka’s journey, since nobody could trace the Arts he used—to save those women—back to him.

That, and Lenamontis military was not actually taught the art of explosive magic. There was simply no such thing. We’d in fact be very happy if there really was such a thing. If Father’s days on the frontline taught me anything, it’s that soldiers who need a big explosion tend to know how to cause one in the direst situations. Father had also standardized some of this knowledge, since a very powerful blast hurts mankind and demonkind just the same, so that soldiers could use them on the frontline more freely and controllably compared to soldiers from the other Houses.

With the Dukedom of Constantius being the very border between man’s land and demonic land during the war, it was a knowledge that came in handy for a very long time, and was probably much of a surprise to the soldiers sent here as reinforcements.

Equipped with these two little bits of knowledge in the back of my mind, I knew full well that the Messengers must have a reason to come to me before they even faced the King.

“I see,” I answered. Mister de la Fleuve took out a few sheets of paper with a lot of text written on them.

“We also have witness testimonies that a figure with dark hair was seen leaving the site,” he continued. I could see that he was holding back a smirk—tsk, tsk, amateur mistake. “And there’s only one person we all know of from Lenamontis with such dark hair.”

I sipped my tea, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye. “Just to confirm,” I said. “When did this happen, again?”

“The incident occurred three weeks ago, and we have spent all the time since then investigating the matter.”

“No, not that.” Thank you for the confirmation, though. “I mean, at what time did it occur? The morning? In the bright of day? During sunset?”

Mister de la Fleuve frowned. “It was the deep of the n—”

Lord du Pont’s messenger suddenly tapped Mister de la Fleuve’s shoulders. Gently, but firmly enough that I could hear the noise.

Mister de la Fleuve stopped. I sighed again, keeping my little delight in check. “So it was the deep of the night, I take it.”

No answer.

Somewhat more dramatically, I let the pause hang in the air for a few more seconds. “I don’t know if you are aware, but there are residents of your very own kingdom with auburn hair, correct?”

They were in abundance. Even my hair is auburn, though a little brighter, because our House intermarried some generations back with somebody from Admari. The darker hair helped Admarians retain heat, it seemed, so they were best equipped to handle Admari’s maritime lifestyle, what with the strong sea winds and all.

Darker hair that, given the darkness of the night, could’ve easily been mistaken for any darker color.

That fact was such an obvious misjudgment on their part that I was almost sure my direct insult about their lack of awareness just flew over their heads.

I took one more sip. “How could your witnesses be so sure that it was not another one of theirs?”

Mister de la Fleuve popped a vein. “Are you questioning our investigative capacity, Miss de Constantia?”

What a disrespectful man. Call me Lady, at least. I’m still a noble, you know. Then again, if he resorted to treating me as a child (which isn’t necessarily wrong, I must add, although it’s funny that he’s the same age as I am), then I suppose I touched upon something he wanted to defend. Good.

I feigned surprise. “By all means, no!” I exclaimed. “I do have to wonder what led you to us, however, given that our resident dark-haired Lenamontese was always by my very side this past month.”

Lord du Pont’s messenger squinted his eyes. “Truly? For this entire month?”

“Alas,” I said, touching my cheek. “Have you not heard of our engagement? We are to be wed very soon. And oh, our Hero is such a passionate young man.”

Mister de la Fleuve squinted as well. The hook had been bitten.

“I believe that if you inquire his one legal wife about this, she would confirm for you,” I added. “It should not be difficult for the Kingdom of Admari, no? That wife is none other than the Regent Queen of the Merfolks, after all.”

I’ll have to write to Yatzil and apologize to her later if they do end up knocking on her doorstep. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, I just want these pests out of my house. I’m sure she’d understand.

Oh, and, yes, Sir Tanaka is the legal husband to the Regent Queen of the Merfolks. Have I neglected to mention that?

“Then we shall do that,” Mister de la Fleuve said as he sighed. “In the meantime, however, our King asked that we bring this up to Rex Lenamontis. If it’s true that your resident dark-haired person is an issue, we will need to think of a joint effort to handle this problem.”

I gave them a curt smile. He continued.

“Take this as a gesture of goodwill,” he said. “A storm warning, so to speak. That man is the only thing keeping this Mansion together. You should leave before the storm hits.”

They stood up to leave. I took another sip of my tea. “One more thing, pardon,” I said before they turned around. “What was in that storehouse that was attacked? Was it robbed?”

“Oh, no,” Lord du Pont’s messenger answered. “It was not a robbery in the normal sense of the word.”

I raised my eyebrows. “How curious.”

“Indeed,” he said. “But we did have to deal with much loss. The storehouse was where we lodged Mister le Clerc’s slaves, after all, and Lord du Pont had always relied on him to prepare the best.”

And, with that, they left.

In a few days, I will have to face Rex Lenamontis regarding this incident. He will ask me to bring other witnesses to prove Sir Tanaka’s whereabouts during the attack, and unfortunately, due to business, the only one who can attend will be Miss Scarlet—and I have this looming suspicion that the messengers of Admari would not take it kindly that their only witness, who would stand against them, is a demoness.

And I still cannot confirm whether it truly was Sir Tanaka behind the attack. While he was always there when I woke up every morning, I lied about always keeping him under my watch. He had gone so many times to pursue what otherworldly pursuits he had in his attempt to recreate the conveniences of his own world here, the same trips that gave us toilet flushers and the mobile stove, so I cannot truthfully answer to my own statement. If the messengers petition someone from the Holy Empire to bind me with the Miracle of the Truth, my statement would fall apart.

This is not to mention that the raided storehouse was apparently the living quarters where Couleur de la Nuit Corporation kept their slaves. I did not see any mention of death in the investigative papers that Mister de la Fleuve took out, which should probably mean the slaves simply escaped. This is very in line with what Sir Tanaka had been doing these past few months—there’s no denying the likeliness that he might be involved in this, although the extent of his involvement is definitely not direct because of the two little facts I mentioned above. If they truly did find mana residue, then someone must have actually used magic, and if an explosion was involved—assuming it was deliberately set off—then probably someone with enough alchemical or military knowledge could be the culprit, too. Someone who could cause an explosion controlled enough it helped the slaves escape rather than scaring them.

Someone like a soldier—or someone like Sir Tanaka….

All in all, however, I feel like I’m missing the bigger picture, and with it, I’m risking both my life and my loved ones. I do not like this feeling.

Miss March, what should I do?

Wishing you the best,
Charlotte Valeria de Constantia,
Ducal House Constantius, Kingdom of Lenamontis.

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