Dear Not Cunning Witch

Part 4

Hester Sol lost her mother when she was twelve. Countless witches and wizards had observed the great witch’s passing, but only and very few of them had actually mourned her death. Neither the shabby funeral held in cemetery nor the king’s handwritten letter had been able to soothe the young Hester’s feeble heart. Hester’s sole comfort during that time was her tiny younger sister.

Hester met Diana for the first time at her mother’s funeral. Hester was a precocious genius, but she hadn’t been officially apprenticed yet, and Diana didn’t even have a teacher she could rely on. Thankfully, Barbara Jiles had agreed to take in her old friend’s child. Hester had let out a sigh of relief as she watched Diana walk away hand-in-hand with Barbara Jiles. Barbara Jiles was one of the very few normal witches in the world of magic, which was teeming with all sorts of villains. Barbara was indifferent even to her own children, but she would at least raise Diana in one piece like a proper teacher until Diana was of age.

Unlike the benevolent Barbara Jiles, however, Hester’s teacher, Amelia Vega, was cruel to her once-friend’s daughter. Amelia had completely ignored Hester once she had learned that Hester was a genius beyond imagination. They were teacher and disciple in name only, and Amelia had never spared Hester a second thought. They had lived together in the same manor but had only seen each other in person about once or twice a year.

Hester had grown up alone, like a weed, in the midst of her teacher’s negligence. She frequented the study every day while her teacher was out, and she looked up at the sky every night to master the constellations. Amelia Vega was her teacher only in name, so the books and the sky became as Hester’s true teachers. But the books and the sky could not satisfy her loneliness, which she beat back with the help of wild animals. The letters that Diana periodically sent to the manor were Hester’s only comfort.

Her teacher had called for her for the first time in a very long while when Hester had just turned fifteen. And she had brutally beaten down even the smallest of Hester’s hopes. Her ever-beautiful teacher had been as heartless as she always was.

 

‘I know you’ve already mastered astronomy, so hurry up and just take the promotion exam already.’

 

Hester could stand as a proper witch in her own right if she passed the promotion exam. But that also meant that she could no longer live in her teacher’s manor or live under the protection of her teacher’s name. It had been crushing news to Hester, as the repayment of her mother’s debt had been deferred until she was independent.

 

‘Please wait until I’m at least of age. I’ll live quietly until then, just as I have been. I won’t ask for much. So please let me stay under your wing just until I’m of age.’

 

Hester had begged her in tears. She had sobbed beneath the skirt of her teacher’s dress and her tears, which she hadn’t shed even at her own mother’s funeral, had poured endlessly from her eyes. But the witch named Amelia Vega was more heartless than the biting cold. She had refused to look after her young disciple, just as she always had.

Hester had been forced to leave her teacher’s manor the very next day. No one had seen her out, and only the wild animals had cried for her on that cold winter day.

Hester, who had been thrown out alone into an unfamiliar world that she was entirely ignorant of, hadn’t been able to guess as much even in her dreams, but many people had been keeping their eyes on the young daughter whom Griselda Sol had left behind. Some were social climbers who coveted the talent that the great witch had passed down to her daughter, while others were creditors who had lent the great witch a fortune because they had trusted her name. The debt had only been deferred until Hester was independent, so it was only natural that it had begun collecting interest by the day once again.

Hester had been bewildered when she had received her first letter of repayment from a creditor. She took any job she could get her hands on to repay the debt, but she had only just become a proper witch, and no one had been willing to entrust an amateur with an important request. She was compensated for what few requests had come her way, but the small sums weren’t anywhere near enough. Dazzling fame wasn’t the only thing that her late mother had passed down to her. Griselda had also left behind a debt large enough to revitalize an entire town when repaid.

People had started to reach out to Hester to tempt her around then. They consoled the frightened girl and proposed her requests that promised a large fortune. Most of them were secret and private requests made by people who refused to disclose their identities. And Hester had accepted those requests in her naïveté.

Her client was an elderly noble from the south. The noble’s house had once been powerful a century ago, but it had slowly declined since and possessed only a small territory in a rural area. Hester was indifferent to her client, and her client, too, didn’t pay much heed to her. But it was important that she completed all the requests that she had promised to take.

The requests were not very difficult, especially when considering how much money she was rewarded afterward. Hester satisfied her requests and spent the rest of her time engrossed in magic. She was contracted to her client for three years, and her goal was to polish her skills and become famous during that time. That was the only way she would be able to take on more difficult requests later, and it was also the only way she could make more money. Her only wish was to ultimately pay off her mother’s debt in full before Diana became independent.

It had only been by pure chance that Hester had learned of her client’s ‘true motives’. Hester had gotten lost in his manor, and she had accidentally made her way to the cellars. But what she had witnessed there had not been anything simple. Her client had been conducting human experiments in his cellar. He had been kidnapping young children from the neighborhood and torturing them mercilessly in the name of prolonging his old life even just a little longer.

It was only then that Hester clearly understood what she had been doing. She had been an accomplice to such cruel deeds. That was a fact that would not change regardless of whether she knew the purpose of her requests or not.

Hester had immediately called the police. She had not been punished because she hadn’t known what the requests had been for and because she had reported it herself, but she could not deny that it had left a severe blow on her psychologically. Moreover, any requests commissioned for Griselda Sol’s daughter had vanished by the next day because she had gone against a private request that had placed the upmost importance on its confidentiality.

Hester had found herself standing at a crossroad.

Did she do illegal things to pay off her debt as quickly as possible, or did she allow the debt to keep tormenting her just so she could keep her heart clean?

Hester had chosen the latter. But it wasn’t because she was particularly fussy about morals. Hester had simply taken her dead mother and her younger sister into consideration. She did not want to dirty her mother’s radiant name, and she wanted to be an honorable older sister to the young Diana. Hester wanted to be someone honorable for Diana, just as her mother had been for her.

She always made sure to read through the contents of her requests after that. She did accept a few private requests, but she generally turned away from any suspicious requests or requests that specifically asked for her because of her sex in disgust. There had even been requests that she became as someone’s second wife in exchange for paying off the rest of her debt. Hester rejected such requests outright without bothering to learn more about them. She had too much to do to think about such matters. Her debt, which never shrank and seemed instead to grow by the day because of interest, was already a thorn in her side as it was.

Ultimately, the only client Hester had been able to accept was the state. The state made all kinds of requests with varying levels of compensation. There were occasionally requests that promised large rewards, but such requests were generally only given to famous witches.

Which was why Hester had decided to aim for the White Hall. The White Hall was a place where only great witches and wizards could write down their names, and that in and of itself was the greatest honor. She would not only receive more requests with large rewards as a matter of course if she managed to get in, but it would also become much easier for her to repay her debt.

Most normal people could only look up to and revere the White Hall for the entire duration of their lives. But not Hester. She had only been twenty when she became the youngest witch in Ingram’s history to write her name in the White Hall, and she had even been the first witch to be confirmed into the White Hall unanimously.

Everyone had praised her name. But Hester couldn’t have cared any less about that. She was overwhelmed just sorting through and completing the requests that began coming her way once she had written her name in the White Hall. It had been around then that Barbara Jiles had informed her that Diana missed her sister dearly, but Hester had been so busy at the time that she couldn’t spare even half a day. She had had no choice to make her beloved younger sister lonely for her sister’s own sake. Diana’s letters, soaked in her loneliness, had troubled Hester’s heart for many days.

Then, two years had passed.

Hester had still been busy completely requests, being rewarded for them, and paying off her debt. But things had been a little different that day. It was the day that she had finally paid off the loan shark that her mother had borrowed the most money from. Hester had been relieved from a great burden. She hadn’t finished paying everything back just yet, but had she felt like she was finally being rewarded for the troubles she had faced over the last seven years.

Perhaps that was why. Perhaps it was because she had been uncharacteristically excited that she had taken an interest in the tavern, which she normally wouldn’t have spared even a second glance. She had simply wanted to try a taste of alcohol, which would supposedly let her ‘drink her worries away.’ Just for that one day, she had wanted to forget about tomorrow’s debt and tomorrow’s requests before she went to sleep.

And that was where she had met Oliver.

 

“Are you here alone, Miss?”

 

It was both the memory that she wanted most to forget and the memory she wanted most to treasure.

Hester had been twenty-two.

 

Oliver Fenley was from Banzè. He was three or four years her elder, and he had claimed to be a businessman who operated several textile factories in Ingram. Hester hadn’t been very interested in him, but she had listened quietly to everything he had said that day —perhaps because he was so skilled in the art of conversation or perhaps it was simply because she was drunk. She had left the tavern before midnight, and she had forgotten completely about the man named Oliver Fenley whom she had met purely by chance. All that had remained with her by the next morning was a terrible hangover and a request that was approaching its deadline.

Hester kept a sharply regular schedule, and she always began her mornings at seven on the dot. Her insides had been churning and her headache had throbbed, but she had already delayed things and she could not delay them any longer. Hester had gotten dressed as neatly as she always did, and she had visited the café that she frequented every morning. Hester could not cook at all. The ten minutes she had between ordering a simple meal at the neighborhood café and when her food came out was the only period of inactivity in her day.

But her food had been rather late that day. Hester had been resting her chin in her hand and while she looked around, and just then, she had happened to lock eyes with a certain man sitting across from her. He had smiled an excessively welcome smile as he walked up to her. He had even called her by her name.

 

“Who are you?”

“We met at the tavern yesterday. Have you forgotten me already?”

 

It was only then that Hester had recalled Oliver Fenley, whom she had met last night at the tavern. He sat down opposite of her without her permission, but Hester had not gone out of her way to scold him for it. Witches never cared about the outside world to begin with. They focused only on themselves, and they couldn’t have cared any less whether it was a vagrant or a noble sitting with them. Thus, it was only natural that Hester hadn’t changed where she decided to eat breakfast. Even though she had met Oliver Fenley again the next morning and the next morning after that.

Their strange encounters continued for a month. But Hester still could not have cared any less about Oliver Fenley. She had long-since forgotten what his occupation, which he had informed her about in the tavern, was, and all she had known about him was that he was an adult man and that, judging by the occasional northern accent that slipped into his speech, he was likely from Banzè. Hester’s days had continued to revolve around herself as it always had, and her schedule, which she had down to the minute, had not changed even as the months had passed.

It was only three months later, on August 3rd, that Hester officially had acknowledged the existence of Oliver Fenley. She had been offered a peculiar request at the time. It was a suspicious request that wouldn’t fully disclose its contents, but it would only take a day and promised a relatively ample reward in return.

Normally, she would have turned it down, but Hester had just concluded a research request with the Ingram government, and she was having trouble filling the awkward duration of time she had in between requests. Which was why she had lightheartedly decided to accept the request anyway. She had decided that it wouldn’t be too late to turn down the request after she had heard the details.

But it was none other than Oliver Fenley who met her as her client at the appointed place. Hester had thought that he should have no reason to commission her for anything until then. But Oliver had adamantly refused to discuss the details of his request. They had met late in the morning, and he had requested that they had lunch, walked around the Ambrose Square, and went boating in the Mon River together. It was only then that Hester had found it strange and had asked him why he had commissioned her for a request, to which Oliver had simply replied,

 

“Today’s your birthday.”

“How did you know that?”

“I saw it in the newspaper. You’re famous, after all.”

 

Hester had not been convinced by his answer. She had ultimately agreed to wander around town with him because he had promised to compensate her, but the dilemma had taken more than just one morning to resolve.

Hester had returned home that day with only a bunch of questions. It was only then that her faint image of the man named Oliver Fenley had begun to take shape. She had not been able to understand him at the time.

They had continued meeting up after that. Hester had continued to eat breakfast at the same café every morning, and Oliver always sat opposite of her as they ate. The only thing that had changed was that Oliver had started gifting her flowers. Sometimes he gave her roses, and sometimes he gave her wildflowers. Hester had accepted them passively. She had accepted them one by one, and one day, she found that he had given her enough flowers to fill an entire vase. Every day, Hester pulled out a flower that had withered, and every day, Hester put a new flower in her vase.

Then, she had suddenly realized something after she had fully changed the flowers in the vase no less than four times. This was strange. She truly, truly hadn’t been able to understand what he was doing.

 

“Why are you giving me flowers?”

“Because I want to give you flowers.”

“Why do you want to give me flowers?”

“Because I want to be good to you.”

“But why?”

“Because I like you.”

 

Hester hadn’t been able to understand his answer either. For her, love was an innate emotion that only budded from the womb. She naturally loved her mother, who had given birth to her, and she naturally loved her younger sister, who shared her blood —and that was all.

 

“I am not your family.”

“I know.”

 

And so, she had not been able to understand why Oliver was claiming to like someone who wasn’t his blood relative.

 

“Why do you like me?”

“Who can say? I don’t really think I have a reason in particular.”

 

If he didn’t know, then there was no way that she would know either. And so, Hester had given up on understanding him. Her questions had always stayed with her in one corner of her heart, but she did not have the time to fully investigate them.

Her meetings with Oliver had continued. Hester had never felt the need to find a new café or avoid him. Which was why they had continued their strange breakfast meetings. She had occasionally wondered how they had started eating breakfast together, but her questions were always overshadowed by other problems, such as her debt or some new request.

Then, one day, Hester had suddenly decided that Oliver was comfortable to be around. She had told him as such without much thought, and he had been overjoyed to hear it. Hester had quite liked seeing him be so happy, but she had purposely refrained from saying it aloud.

She had started spending more time with Oliver. They had started taking walks in the nearby park once they were done with breakfast. And Oliver had sometimes dropped by her place to invite her out for dinner or to a tavern. Hester had enjoyed those times. Most of her urgent debts had been paid off by then, so perhaps she had found some leeway in her heart.

Eventually, Hester had begun attending church on the weekends with Oliver, and she had read Diana’s periodic letters aloud to him as well. She had even told him about her mother, her teacher, and about the cat she was raising —all things she had never told anyone else before. She had thought it was strange, but she never thought too deeply about it. Hester had enjoyed spending time with Oliver. She had found the leisure and comfort that she had never experienced before in her life, and the warmth that she had only known when she had been very young and still in her mother’s arms, at Oliver’s side.

And then, Hester had realized. She liked Oliver. There was no particular reason as to why, just as Oliver had said before. It was an unconditional and extremely natural emotion. And it had sprouted in a corner of her heart just like how she loved her mother and younger sister.

The land that had been barren for over a decade had suddenly become fertile.

Hester had withered away, ever so slowly, ever since she had lost her mother. Her heartless teacher had cast her aside, and she had been thrown into the storms of life at a young age and had lost many things that she should have experienced as a matter of course. Wizards, as a whole, were individualists who seldom forged relationships with others, but they, too, had families.

But Hester’s only family was far away. A welcome rain had blessed her barren heart every time she met her sister, but the drought inside her heart could not be resolved by just the one or two days of rain she received a year. The emotions she had originally carried had eventually vanished without a trace, and even the kindness of her heart, which she had been born with, had withered away. She was a witch praised by all and the blessed daughter of the King of the Stars. But she had not been able to feel any of that. She was too barren. She had been so lonely for so long that she had forgotten everything else.

Oliver had been the first drizzle of rain she had known in a very long while. It had been so light that she hadn’t even noticed it at first, but then she had suddenly found that she was drenched. Oliver had somehow become someone so natural to her.

Hester had been happy. The emotions she hadn’t known since she had been a young child had awoken again. She treasured him just as he treasured her. Her happiness had continued as she rewarded love with love and trust with trust.

Or, at least, that was what she had thought.

Just as happiness had found her so suddenly, so, too, had misfortune fallen upon her in but an instant.

 

It had been the first time Hester had ever invited Oliver inside her house. Hester had been in a good mood —she had proposed it without much thought, and she hadn’t expected that Oliver would be so overjoyed to accept. It had been a cool autumn day. She had thought it would be nice to enjoy some tea and read together.

Oliver had gone to her study. Hester hadn’t really thought much of it even though she saw that her study door was half-open. She hadn’t even thought much of it even when she saw that Oliver was focused on reading something while standing in front of her desk. All she had thought was that the tea would get cold soon.

But things had changed when she realized that the things Oliver was reading was her incomplete thesis.

The tray Hester had been holding had clattered to the floor. The teapot and teacups had been loud as they shattered. Hester had watched on apathetically as Oliver grew bewildered and the pages fell on top of the spilled tea. And she had spat out just one thing as they stood in the tense silence.

 

“Get out.”

“Hester. Wait, please just hear me…….”

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”

 

Generally speaking, witches did not let people in very easily. Which was why they turned reckless and began to change when someone did manage to slip in between the cracks of their walls. Witches and wizards were often blinded by love and began loving without harboring even the slightest doubts against their lovers, and sometimes they were robbed of that which was most precious to them by those who whispered dark but sweet nothings in their ears.

Sometimes it was a research material that was difficult to procure, and sometimes it was an incomplete thesis they had yet to publish. Social status in the world of magic depended on the fruits of one’s research, so this was something that could never be forgiven. Many teachers cautioned their disciples that some wizards had committed suicide because they hadn’t been able to endure the sorrow that resulted when their lovers stole the fruits of their lifelong research.

Witches forgave thrice. But this was the exception to the rule. And so, Hester could not forgive him.

Oliver had left immediately after saying that he would see her later. Hester had been infinitely composed, unlike the openly bewildered Oliver. She cleaned up after the shattered pieces, wiped away the tea on the floor, and crumpled up the wet papers.

The next morning, Hester found herself a new café and had eaten breakfast alone. The man whom she had always been with was no longer with her. She was alone again, just as she had been for the past ten years.

She had adapted so surprisingly quickly at first. Hester had never been accustomed to sharing her daily life with someone else in the first place. And so, she had thought that she was all right.

But the shock had come over her slowly. She found herself spending many sleepless nights before she had realized it, and she also found herself looking around for something with greater frequency before she had realized it. She found herself spacing out in the middle of her research, and she felt herself looking up to the other end of the table as if it was only natural while she was eating breakfast.

Hester knew what loneliness was, what solitude was.

She had shuddered at the thought that she would have to suffer the horrible agony she had experienced when she had lost her mother at a young age all over again, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could not forgive Oliver. At the time, Hester had never been betrayed by anyone before, and she had never forgiven anyone for it either.

And so, she had been at a loss for what to do about the letters that Oliver was sending her every day. She had known that Oliver walked past her house every night and occasionally looked like he was wondering if he should knock on her door, but she hadn’t known what to do about it. Her bewilderment had increased with each passing day. She sincerely wanted to see Oliver, but she also sincerely didn’t want to see him. She hated him as much as she loved him.

Eventually, Hester had moved out of town. She had moved north after accepting a long-term commission from the Ingram government. There, she had worked herself just until the brink of death. That was how she had tried to make herself forget Oliver. She had tried to return to how she had been before meeting him —back to when she had been indifferent to both happiness and pain.

And so, two years had passed.

Hester was currently an extraordinarily composed witch, just like she had been before. The rest of the world praised her temperament as one of the many talents of a great witch, but she ignored them. She was insensitive to the outside world now. She had returned to the dry and barren days she had known before she had met Oliver.

But she had no choice but to question herself now that she had reunited with him.

Had she truly forgotten about him?

Was she truly indifferent to him?

Hester wasn’t convinced that she was.

 

* * *

 

“You were acquainted with Lady Hester. You should have informed me beforehand,”

Hugo said nonchalantly as he personally poured some tea. Oliver, who had quietly been sitting opposite of him, suddenly retorted,

“Why didn’t you use magic?”

“It’s only been three hours since I summoned the winter. It’ll be better if I don’t use magic for at least another three or four days.”

Wizards borrowed the stars’ powers to cast magic. All of their magic came from the stars, and their bodies were no different from containers meant for holding that magic. If they cast a large spell, then they would have to refrain from using magic again for a while lest they completely exhausted their bodies of magic. Using too much magic was no different from consuming their own bodies.

“You pushed yourself.”

“I had little choice, since the enemy had a wizard of considerable strength. I was forced to make a gamble.”

“And you succeeded.”

“For the most part, I suppose. Lady Hester’s sister is still on the train, after all.”

A shadow immediately fell over Oliver’s mien. Hugo continued,

“I have no interest in your relationship with Lady Hester, Mr. Fenley. After all, I don’t know you very well, and I am only somewhat acquainted with Lady Hester.”

“But there must be a reason why you’re going out of your way to say this right now.”

Oliver smiled in exhaustion. Monotonously, Hugo replied,

“I do not wish to learn more about your relationship, nor do I intend to pry. And so, I ask that you be careful and behave yourself until this operation is over.”

“And by being careful and behaving myself you mean…?”

“I am advising you not to cause pointless trouble with Lady Hester.”

Hugo took a sip of tea before he continued,

“Judging by her reaction just earlier, it looked like Lady Hester harbors some rather violent emotions for you, but I expect that she’ll still be willing to at the very least cooperate since her one and only younger sister hasn’t been rescued yet. So, don’t provoke her for no reason and invite pointless trouble.”

“I have a feeling that just seeing my face will make her quiver in fury.”

“Then I suppose you should avoid her as much as possible.”

Oliver nodded back gloomily. Hugo shot one quick glance at him before he let out a faint sigh. Hugo continued,

“Mr. Fenley. All I want is to be able to go home as soon as possible. I’m worried for Bamber, whom I’ve left home alone, and I must complete Suri’s request posthaste. I am sure you are familiar with my sister’s temperament.”

Hugo’s younger sister, Suri Alpheus, was the head of <Just Alpheus>, and she was a very stern witch despite her young age. Not only did she refused to pay those who failed to complete her requests, as she had warned them beforehand, but she was also famous for refusing to commission them again. She was strict and fair, and her rules applied to her blood relatives too.

“I never thought I’d get so tied up just because one measly train was hijacked. And naturally, I never even dreamed that I would end up summoning the winter in the middle of late spring. But don’t you see? I just barely managed to summon the winter and throw the heavens into disarray, but the enemy wizard is still walking around just fine and has even taken Lady Hester’s sister hostage. This operation is already falling apart,”

Hugo grumbled uncharacteristically. Oliver, who was touching his temple to relieve his throbbing headache, casually replied,

“……About that wizard. He had crosses tattooed on his wrists. There’s only one place I know of that would tattoo crosses on a wizard’s body.”

Crosses were the symbol of the Church of Santigma. The two groups were on generally amicable terms now, but they had been at war for a thousand years just a little while ago, and there was no reason why they should feel any goodwill toward each other. Wizards regarded their bodies as sacred containers for the stars’ magic, so any wizard who purposefully drew crosses on himself would be regarded as a lunatic.

But if the enemy wizard’s tattoos had been forced on him…

“Are you referring to Gwaltiello Velli?”

Oliver nodded silently. Hugo thought things through carefully before he slowly nodded back. He continued,

“It would certainly make sense for Gwaltiello Velli to forcefully tattoo crosses on a wizard’s body and then some. The prison is managed by zealots from the Church of Santigma, after all.”

“But aren’t the prisoners of Gwaltiello Velli in there for life? Can anyone get out of that place alive?”

“No. Even corpses aren’t allowed to leave Gwaltiello Velli. There’s a reason the place is called hell.”

The prisoners were sentenced to live in the prison and die in the prison. Gwaltiello Velli was infamous even in the world of magic because it was the only prison for wizards in the world. Hugo continued,

“His birth star is Muzetta, and he’s from Gwaltiello Velli…….”

Hugo looked down into his teacup and pondered.

“He must have been rather famous in the world of magic if he was powerful enough to escape from Gwaltiello Velli. Would you happen to know of him?”

“I can count the number of wizard’s whose names I’ve memorized on my fingers. Wizards do not care much about others as humans do.”

The world of magic didn’t even have its own newspaper. So even important news was only disseminated through small networks of acquaintances. Mass communication was only possible biennially on Walpurgis Night. Hugo continued,

“Muzetta and Gwaltiello Velli are a highly unusual combination. I might be able to figure out his identity through the Encyclopedia of Names, but, unfortunately, I can’t use magic at the moment. In any event, Lady Hester will have to return to us because we can make any decisions.”

Then, Hugo calmly asked,

“Was there anything else that stood out to you?”

“He seems to have been from the South, judging by his accent. Like Messina, perhaps?”

“Is that so?”

It apparently hadn’t been very useful information. Oliver felt awkward and dug deeper through his memories.

“And he asked me to translate a letter that had been written in the northern dialect.”

“A letter?”

“Yes. It said something about how they should complete their mission alone because the writer couldn’t help them. I couldn’t tell if they were working together or not.”

Hugo furrowed his brows. Wizards took on ‘requests,’ but never ‘missions’. It was one thing if the wizard had been from Banzè, where wizards swore oaths to be made subjects to the crown, but free wizards, like wizards from Ingram, had no reason to have anything to do with a mission.

Then, Oliver suddenly said,

“Now that I think about it, the wizard had red eyes.”

“……What?”

Hugo stared blankly back at Oliver.

“I couldn’t see his face very well because of his bandana at first, but I saw some of his features as I was looking up at him when I saw him last. It was too dark for me to get a very good look at him, but I remember that his eyes were red.”

“Are you certain of this?”

Hugo asked again. Oliver was a little startled as he nodded back.

“Is there a problem……?”

Hugo lowered his head and groaned for some time. Oliver grew anxious and urged him to answer. He continued,

“Sir Hugo…”

“This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all.”

Hugo looked unusually nervous as he replied. He continued,

“A prisoner of Gwaltiello Velli with red eyes……. You can’t not know who he is and still call yourself a wizard.”

“Pardon?”

“His name is Niolo Pagliacci. He’s the elder half-brother of Kalotta Pagliacci, the head of <Noble Pagliacci>.”

Oliver scowled.

“Why would a wizard from such a reputable house……?”

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“His house isn’t important. That wizard is dangerous. He’s a madman.”

The blood drained from Hugo’s face as he chewed his lips. Fear was seeping into his eyes. He continued,

“Niolo Pagliacci has murdered countless of our brethren in the name of dueling. Messina, Ingram, Banzè……. His treachery transcends national borders. But that’s not the biggest reason why he was imprisoned in Gwaltiello Velli.”

Then, as if he was terrified of something unknown, Hugo whispered,

“Niolo Pagliacci has summoned a ‘demon’ before.”