Private Tutor to the Duke’s Daughter: Volume 13 E-Book

Riku Nanano

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Private Tutor to the Duke’s Daughter
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 296

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Three months have passed since the battle for the city of water. As winter nears the royal capital, Allen settles back into his old routine, tutoring the kingdom’s best and brightest while overseeing the company that bears his name—until a draconic prophecy yanks him into the cutthroat world of court politics once again. His path to curing a student’s magical ailment leads through the Sealed Archive, home to the kingdom’s most closely guarded secrets. But Allen’s old enemy, Head Court Sorcerer Gardner, holds the keys. To overcome aristocratic prejudice and fulfill the draconic prophecy, Allen will need something he’s always avoided: an official post. And as it happens, the newly minted Crown Princess Cheryl is in the market for an investigator. His first case? The deaths of another student’s parents and the plague they tried to fight eleven years ago.

Leseprobe

Prologue

“Oh, wow! Look, Tuna, a Leinster steam engine! I’ve read about them in books, but I’ve never seen a metal machine move in real life! I can’t believe my eyes!” cried a boy with pale-blue hair—my younger brother, Niccolò Nitti. He broke into a run as the train glided into the drab stop on the western edge of the Avasiek Plain.

“D-Don Niccolò, be careful! Don Niche, if you’ll excuse me!” Tuna gave chase in a panic. My brother’s pretty attendant, a daughter of the Solevinos, longtime servants of our house, had elven blood in her veins. Her adoptive father, Toni, had betrayed us for the Church of the Holy Spirit. Losing him in the final battle for the city of water must have come as a shock, yet she let no sadness show. My brother hardly deserved her.

Just under three months had flown by since our truce with the Leinsters. Even in the Principality of Atlas, toward the south of the continent, we were starting to hear the footsteps of winter. The shelter of the hills couldn’t shut out the cold wind completely, and I felt a chill even in broad daylight.

Niccolò and Tuna seemed well armored against the cold in matching coats, knit wool hats, scarves, and gloves. Still, they would be journeying to the Wainwright Kingdom’s southern and then royal capital on behalf of the House of Nitti. I had better warn them to take care of themselves before they set out. And that they were bound for the royal capital because the church might target them again.

Niccolò wasn’t alone in gawking at his first train; other children going to study in the southern and royal capitals shared his enthusiasm. Merchants and Atlasian officials also eyed the machine with interest. I spared them a glance before turning to check our immediate surroundings.

Beautiful black hair flecked with gray feathers distinguished the woman who would escort the pair to the royal capital with a group of Leinster maids. They had agreed to serve as bodyguards. I supposed I could afford to relax a little until the departure ceremony.

“I see the cold hasn’t dampened the little ones’ spirits” came a sudden remark from behind me.

I turned to find an unassuming man with round spectacles and hair a dusty shade of dark brown. Slit-like eyes and a plump build were probably his most remarkable features.

“Marchese Atlas,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were attending.”

This man bore the name Ray Atlas. The former Marchese Atlas had met an unexpected end during the battle for the city of water, and his rightful heir, the bold general Robson Atlas, had fallen fighting one of the church’s apostles, Io “Black Blossom” Lockfield, at the Fortress of Seven Towers. As a result, the third brother had assumed the title. He had made no public appearances prior to his accession, leaving both his character and his ability largely unknown. I had heard he was my age—twenty-five—but he looked older.

“Only to fill space at the ceremony,” the marchese replied without turning a hair. “And call me Ray. You know I’m marchese in name only. As things stand, no one in this principality outranks you, Don Niche Nitti. My whole house accepts that. After all, the man who forged a covenant with the water dragon gave you his seal of approval.”

I grimaced, remembering the utterly bizarre position I’d been placed in. One young man had driven off the vampiress Alicia Coalfield, a corpse dragon with my brother and Tuna at its core, and multiple church apostles to save the city of water, then exchanged a vow with the water dragon—Allen, the Brain of the Lady of the Sword. His words in the Leinsters’ southern capital council chamber came back to me:

“Niche, the Principality of Atlas is in your hands.”

While I spewed a litany of curses in my head for the umpteenth time, the marchese’s eyes grew yet narrower.

“We haven’t been at peace three months yet, and the Leinsters have already laid tracks from the heart of their under-duchy to our border as though it were nothing. During the war, Scarlet Heaven fired not a single proper spell in battle, and the Bloodstained Lady only waved her sword a bit at Avasiek and a few cities. The Smiling Lady, who they say came up with the griffin raids, never left the under-duchy’s capital.” He paused. “I suppose we should never have picked that fight.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

This string of battles had left appallingly deep scars on the League of Principalities. Atlas had seceded and started on its own path as a vassal nation with Leinster backing. The remaining four northern principalities were staggering under the economic toll of griffin strikes on ports, bridges, and highways. Three of the six southern marchesi had fallen to church assassins. Another, Fossi Folonto, had turned traitor and become an apostle. That left only the elderly Marchesa Rondoiro, who had lost her left arm, and Carlyle Carnien. And as for the city of water...

“Are you sure you shouldn’t put in an appearance in the royal capital?” the marchese asked offhandedly.

Watching my brother chat excitedly with Tuna in front of the train, I shook my head. I had no need to keep Ray Atlas in the dark; we shared a duty and an understanding. “Demands keep piling up. Extending the tracks to the Atlasian capital, enlisting griffins to map terrain, supporting those who lost family in the war, recruiting capable agents... I can’t afford to leave. I could appeal to the Brain of the Lady of the Sword, but he has at least as much on his plate as I do. Be wary of that man—he honestly believes that if he can do something, so can anyone else. Give him half a chance, and you’ll find yourself in my shoes.”

“That only shows how much he trusts you. Mr. Allen wrote that we should defer to you in everything and he’ll take responsibility. Rumor has it that Allen & Co.’s fiendish head clerk considers you a rival.”

I snorted. Allen & Co.—the common name for a joint commercial venture launched by the ducal houses of Leinster and Howard—had taken an active hand in rebuilding Atlas. It was fast gaining influence over trade in food, liquor, clothing, various raw materials, and just about everything else we needed. And I couldn’t deny that every letter I received from the girl who served as its head clerk included the words, “You’ll never beat me, got that?! Allen trusts me the most!”

How had it come to this? I ruffled my own hair as I recalled what the young man and I had said to each other when we’d reunited at the Leinsters’ main house two months earlier.

✽

“We’re to ‘cede the Avasiek Plain, recognize Atlas’s independence, relinquish any old tomes or spell books that the kingdom’s representatives request, punish those involved with the Church of the Holy Spirit, repatriate prisoners with all due speed, maintain the social standing of residents who fled to Leinster territory during the war, and restore Robson Atlas’s honor.’ That much seems fair, and I can accept the fine print as well. But...” I glared at the young man with dark-brown hair seated across from me. Allen, the Brain of the Lady of the Sword, wore a white shirt with black trousers. His hands were full of paperwork, which he’d been speedily processing while we spoke.

On a nearby sofa, a young woman lounged sipping tea, her long scarlet hair blazing in the sunbeams that slanted through the windows. Lydia Leinster, the Lady of the Sword and the duke’s eldest daughter.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded.

“Hm? Of what?” Allen paused his pen to give me a quizzical look.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” I snapped, grinding my teeth at his insufferable attitude. “What is my name doing in a supplementary article to an international peace treaty?! It says, ‘Niche Nitti shall be inducted by the Ducal House of Leinster’ plain as day!”

My words hung in the air for a long moment. Then, “Who knows?”

“Wh-Why you—”

No sooner had I reached for him in anger than blazing plumes filled the air. I shrank back and froze in spite of myself.

The young man spared me only a glance as he scattered the feathers with a wave of his left hand. “Lydia,” he said, “I wish you wouldn’t cast Firebird indoors.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I don’t see why you’re angry at me. Whatever am I to do with Your Highness?”

“No titles!”

To my alarm, the indignant Lady of the Sword flicked her left wrist, hurling a dagger of fire. A hit would prove fatal. Yet Allen made it vanish with a twirl of his pen.

Freak!

The self-proclaimed “private tutor” turned back to me and said, “Niche, the Principality of Atlas is in your hands. The news has already reached the heads of the relevant houses as well as His Royal Majesty, so those who care have their eyes on you. I’m told no one objected. I’ve also secured approval from Doge Pirro Pisani. And although your father, the former deputy Nieto Nitti, departed the city of water after taking public responsibility for his ties to the church, he gave his blessing as well.”

“What?! Wh-When did you...?”

Little time had passed since the church’s schemes had pushed the city of water to the brink of ruin. What’s more, Allen and his companions had remained there until mere days ago, tending to Marchesa Carlotta Carnien’s mysterious ailment. I couldn’t imagine him finding the time to make such arrangements.

The young man folded his arms on the desk, unfazed by my stare. “I shouldn’t need to tell you how deeply the church’s apostles and inquisitors have been involved in the Algren rebellion and the conflicts it sparked—carrying out the orders of a girl who calls herself the Saint. What happened in the city of water leaves no doubt that they’ll stop at nothing to achieve their ends. Neither the kingdom nor the Leinsters and the southern houses can spare the manpower to rebuild Atlas.”

“We can foot the bill,” the Lady of the Sword added, circling behind the desk and resting a hand on Allen’s chair. “But we can’t send people. And as you’ve probably guessed, my house needs results that will entice the other four northern principalities. Considering that we’ll shelter Niccolò and Tuna from any future attempts the church is almost certain to make on them, I wouldn’t say you’re getting a bad deal. Would you?”

“I am grateful for that, and for ensuring that my father and our servants would not face blame,” I gritted out, aware of the sour face I must have been making. “But that doesn’t tell me why! Why me?! There must be other suitable—”

“None, except you.” Allen spoke with a certainty that left me speechless. Leaving his papers on the desk, he looked me straight in the eye. “When Alicia cast the strategic taboo spell Everlasting Scarlet Dream and the corpse dragon manifested itself, I thought things couldn’t get any worse. I had no idea whether we even stood a chance. And yet...” I couldn’t look away. “You never gave up.”

In spite of myself, I felt warmth flood my chest. This man—the schoolmate I’d envied and refused to extend a helping hand to at the Royal Academy—was praising Niche Nitti from the bottom of his heart!

Allen smiled as he signed a document. “You held firm and did your utmost to keep your word to me by rescuing townspeople who didn’t escape in time. Resisting despair and rejecting fear, you fought gamely on to the bitter end.” Handing the paper to the noblewoman behind him, he added a remark that made me doubt my ears. “My father taught me what to call people like that: heroes.”

I didn’t know what to say. At a loss, I turned to the young woman behind his chair. “Lady of the Sword?”

“He means every word,” she declared, looking over the paper. “Stop fighting it and accept that your luck has run out.”

I never could stand paragons!

“Humph. Suppose you do cede authority to me. Did you ever stop to think that I might use it against you?” I asked to blow off steam, although I planned no such thing. “Carlyle may be putty in your hands now that you have his wife, but not me.”

The machinations of Fossi Folonto, the traitor marchese, had laid Carlotta low with a prolonged and mysterious illness—the result of a curse much like the “ten-day fever” that had once ravaged the kingdom’s royal capital. Now Princess Cheryl Wainwright’s and Lady Stella Howard’s purifying magic was speeding her toward recovery. Once she regained her strength, she might even visit the royal capital. And Carlyle, who had sided with the church to save his wife, would never stand against the Wainwright Kingdom again. Of course, neither would I.

The Lady of the Sword met my spiteful words with a glare, but the young man I’d addressed them to only looked puzzled.

“Well,” he said, “I realize old grudges aren’t so easy to square away, so I suppose I couldn’t blame you. I made the recommendation, so my reputation will suffer if it goes wrong, but that’s all! The Leinsters wouldn’t be so petty as to harm you, Niccolò, or Don Nieto Nitti just because you proved uncooperative.”

He doesn’t mean...? Did he link his own glory to my recommendation?! Absurd!

While I stood frozen, Allen made yet another credulity-straining pronouncement.

“I’ve talked it over with Marchese Ray Atlas too. Whatever else you do, bring peace to Atlas and the northern principalities! I’ll be in the royal capital, working on reassessing ten-day fever, ameliorating Stella’s overdeveloped affinity for light, deciphering Duchess Rosa Howard’s notes, and of course, doing my real job, tutoring. I’m recruiting a capable secretary for you as we speak, so look forward to meeting them.”

He already struck a deal with the new marchese?!

I looked to the scarlet-haired young woman, but she merely scowled. She must not have known.

Faced with the prospect of the city of water’s savior choosing even my secretary for me, I took several deep, albeit ragged, breaths to steady myself, then straightened both my formal blue suit and my back. “Understood on all counts. I, Niche Nitti, swear to do all in my power, little though that may be. But may I point out one last thing?”

“Yes, of course.” Allen nodded graciously.

If looks could kill, the glare I shot at his smile would have. I said...

✽

A snicker escaped me as I remembered the stunned expression on his face. Even he could show surprise.

The marchese gave me a puzzled look, but then a steam whistle sounded. The boys and girls were thrilled with joy. Ray Atlas had lost his chance to ask questions.

“It must be time. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, the hem of his battered army greatcoat flapping as he started to walk.

“Ray Atlas! Tell me just one thing.” I called after the portly marchese, although I hadn’t meant to. “Why cooperate with me? The assassin who took advantage of the chaos in the city of water to slay your brother was—”

“My eldest brother!” Ray Atlas stopped and shouted before I could finish. His predecessor had fallen, with the rest of the fence-sitting aristocrats and assemblymen who “stood in the way of the league’s postwar restoration,” at the hands of my father, Nieto.

Without looking at me, the marchese spat, “My eldest brother was a fool. He fell for the apostles’ flattery, then abandoned his duty along with his soldiers and subjects when he fled to the city of water. To the bitter end, he never acknowledged a bastard like me as his brother. Of course, the same goes for our late father and my stepmother. I never once felt familial love for any of them. But...” A strong wind blew, fanning the bespectacled man’s coat. “My other brother, Robson... He loved me since we were children.”

Amid a string of defeats, that stalwart had faced down a massive Leinster army at the Fortress of Seven Towers. I didn’t recall ever exchanging words with him, but I knew his reputation for talent. Some had even said he had the makings of a doge.

As Ray Atlas clutched his sleeves, I noticed the stains on them. The coat must have belonged to Robson.

“He always opposed this war. ‘We won’t stand a chance if Scarlet Heaven, the Bloodstained Lady, and the Smiling Lady take to the field,’ he said. You see, he’d studied the histories and members of every house he could. But after the rout at Avasiek, when our eldest brother fled to the city of water, he took command himself.” The marchese gave an exaggerated shrug. “I originally planned to man the Fortress of Seven Towers. We were fighting the Leinsters. The odds of survival were slim. Looking to the future, a mediocre bastard son’s life seemed a small price to pay to save my talented brother. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I couldn’t answer. I knew what I would do if...if Niccolò ever tried such a thing.

Ray Atlas looked heavenward. “But Robson dismissed the proposal on the spot and set off for the fortress himself—practically stormed it,” he said with an air of self-mockery. “I’d never been bawled out like that in my life. Or punched, for that matter.”

Another blast of the steam whistle. The ceremony would start soon. A beastfolk girl in a maid uniform darted past the corner of my eye.

The marchese met my gaze for the first time that day. “After the truce, once things had calmed down”—he hesitated—“I received a midnight visitor on griffinback.”

“Who?” I asked. Then, slowly, “You don’t mean...?”

“He brought two maids with him. One carried a two-handed scythe. The other had pale-scarlet hair. She never stopped smiling. The old hands placed them as the ‘Headhunter’ and a Leinster relation.”

Allen. The maids must have been guards. What was he thinking?

Ray Atlas let slip a faint chuckle, perhaps reliving the event. “When I worked up the courage to ask him the reason for his visit, he answered, ‘I hope you’ll allow me to offer flowers at the grave of the great General Robson Atlas. The church recognized him as a threat, alongside Marchesa Carlotta Carnien.’ Can you believe it? That was all! Just for that, he entered what had been enemy territory mere days before practically unguarded!”

“He’s that sort of man,” I said stiffly. He saw it as the right thing to do and refused to be swayed, even if most people could never hope to follow his example.

The marchese removed his spectacles and covered his eyes with his hand. “After paying his respects to Robson, he said, ‘I have a younger sister myself, although not by blood. If I had been in Robson’s shoes, I would have done just what he did. Protecting your family doesn’t have to make logical sense.’ He’s a great man, the Shooting Star who treated with the water dragon. The people we tell legends about must have been like him.”

“Not that he seems to realize it. You’ll get to see some funny faces if you ever tell him so.” Expressing the same opinion in that Leinster council chamber had provoked a rare look of heartfelt distaste.

Ray Atlas replaced his spectacles and cracked a slight grin. Then he straightened up. “I’m a mediocre man. I lack the swordplay, sorcery, scholarship, and looks of a leader. But...that young man toiled secretly to restore my brother’s honor even though he stood to gain nothing from it. Who knows how many times he must have bowed and scraped before the kingdom’s leaders? I believe in him—and in you, the man he entrusted with absolute authority.” The eyes behind the spectacles opened, and their gaze met mine. “Ray Atlas will bear full responsibility. Please, give your talents free rein.”

I fumbled for a response in the face of this forthright admission. “I have no talents to speak of,” I said at last, “but I promise to do what little I can.”

At that, Ray narrowed his eyes and curled his lips in a semblance of a smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. The supplementary article you proposed Doge Pisani add to the peace treaty in utmost secrecy has my full support. We must give our savior a taste of his own medicine.”

Once again, the brave man strode off toward the station, where the ceremony was to take place. I expected to work with him for a long time to come. The more fellow sufferers of Allen’s meddling, the better.

Seeing the marchese depart, a round-eared weasel-clan girl popped out from behind a wooden crate and dashed up to me, her shoulder-length faded-brown hair and tail bobbing. Jutta, the secretary Allen had chosen for me, wore a maid uniform courtesy of the Leinsters. He had apparently found her selling fruit in the southern capital. But what was she thinking, not wearing so much as a coat in this cold wind?

No sooner had she reached my front than she clenched her fists and hopped in place, crying, “M-Master, I think it’s time! Please hurry!”

“Stop calling me that,” I said stiffly. “It invites misunderstandings.”

“P-Please forgi—”

Sure enough, Jutta’s apology ended abruptly in a cute little sneeze, which left her staring at her feet in shame.

Good grief.

I massaged my forehead, then draped my own cloak over the girl.

“D-Don Niche?!”

“Wear that and come along,” I said, starting to walk before she could utter another awkward word. I could see an excited Niccolò with Tuna hovering close to him.

Fine, then. Have it your way. You left Atlas and the northern principalities in my care, so I’ll get them back on track if it’s the last thing I do.

Suddenly, I came to a standstill and looked up at the northern sky. What was our savior doing in the royal capital? Not resting, at least. Of that I felt sure. How would he react when he heard the article I’d proposed to the doge: “The sanctuary on the city of water’s central island shall be ceded to Allen personally”? A chuckle escaped me as I pictured the face of the self-proclaimed “private tutor” who had saved my homeland.

Chapter 1

“Really? They’ve already linked the tracks? The Leinsters and Niche don’t waste any time. Oh, Cindy, you made a calculation error on this form. Please go over it again.” I broke off listening to the latest news from the south to levitate a document I’d been checking onto a desk ahead and to the right of mine.

Allen & Co. had its new premises in the royal capital’s western quarter. The company had relocated because a raid during the Algren rebellion had nearly demolished its former offices. I’d heard that this house had belonged to a hidebound noble family that had fallen amid the successive disturbances. Still, it was spacious, convenient, and sturdy. I hardly felt the cold weather.

The Leinster Maid Corps’s number six pulled a face as she accepted the document, then fell flat on her desk. Her milky-white tresses swayed with the impact.

“I drew the winning lot to leave the city of water early, and this is what I get,” she groaned. “A-And you’re supposed to have the day off because you’re tutoring this afternoon, Mr. Allen. It says so on the blackboard. I...I can’t take any more paperwork! Oh, Saki! Hurry up and get here already!”

A little girl with long white hair—Atra the Thunder Fox, one of the Eight Great Elementals—looked up in alarm from the nearby sofa where she’d been dozing but closed her eyes again, relieved, when she saw me. The sight brought smiles to the faces of every Leinster and Howard maid in the room and to the former Fosse Company staff driven by circumstance to work with them.

“An urgent summons went out to all the ranking Howard maids, including Sally Walker and the others assigned to the company,” I said, tweaking spell formulae arrayed in midair while I dashed off a signature. “Their departure for the northern capital leaves us shorthanded. I’ve put in a request to Anna for additional staff. The next document, if you please.”

“Oh, so that’s why all our officers have been gathering in the royal capital. Except Lady Lily—she’s visiting her parents in the under-duchy. But why do I have to pick up the slack?” Cindy grumbled, although she also set about correcting paperwork. She took her job seriously.

Two months had flown by since the battle for the city of water. Even those of us who had remained there at first, dealing with the aftermath, had gradually made our way back to the royal capital via the southern one. I thought that I’d done all I could in my grudging role as a contact for negotiations. Assigning Saki’s team to guard Niccolò Nitti and Tuna had been my idea. But I had taken no direct hand in politics after my return to the capital. Although I’d been forced to stand in the line of fire ever since the Algren rebellion, I remained a “houseless” wolf-clan adoptee, a humble private tutor, and the nominal president of the company that bore my name.

Formal peace with the Yustinian Empire had been delayed, or so I’d heard, by that nation’s plunge into a civil war pitting the old emperor against the crown prince. But I would let my old mentor, the professor, see to that, along with the Archmage, as the headmaster of the Royal Academy was known, and Dukes Howard, Leinster, and Lebufera.

Nothing beats peace and quiet! Let the professor and the headmaster handle every thorny, convoluted problem from now on!

“Mr. Allen? Do you realize you look like a mischievous little boy who just got a wicked idea?” Cindy demanded, eyeing me coldly. “And I’ll thank you to not deploy such menacing formulae while juggling so much work.”

I winked. “Just prepping for this afternoon’s lesson and going over my spoils from the city of water. You needn’t worry—I don’t have the mana to activate any of them except the one for Tina.”

Young Lady Tina Howard, the second daughter of Duke Howard, had launched my tutoring career. Her father held one of the kingdom’s Four Great Dukedoms, making him ruler of the north and her a genuine noblewoman of the highest degree, entitled to the style “Highness.” She also possessed prodigious mana and a brilliant intellect and housed the great elemental Frigid Crane within her body. Since returning to the city, she had resumed attending the Royal Academy, which was back in session. I would probably find her in class at that very moment.

“Normal people don’t line up rows of formulae like that,” Cindy said, sounding exasperated as she darted her pen across a page. “I really think you take on too much work. How many impossible problems do you have on your plate right now? Come on, you can tell me. Tutoring and company work don’t count.”

“Let me think.”

First of all, I was reinvestigating the sudden outbreak of ten-day fever that had struck the royal capital eleven years earlier. My pupil and Tina’s personal maid, Ellie Walker, had lost both parents to the disease. Yet in the city of water, I had encountered a strange phenomenon. Marchesa Carlotta Carnien had lain comatose with a mysterious ailment—actually a curse cast by an apostle of the Church of the Holy Spirit—and its symptoms had matched those of ten-day fever. That meant that rather than any plague, far-reaching church sorcery might have claimed the Walkers’ lives. I needed to get to the bottom of things posthaste.

Second, Stella Howard, Tina’s elder sister and the president of the Royal Academy’s student council, had been suffering for several months from an unexplained and growing profusion of light-elemental mana. The Ducal House of Howard traditionally wielded ice, with which its forebears had contributed greatly to the kingdom’s founding. But at present, Stella could only cast light spells—despite the fact that her mana reserves continued to increase. Her powerful purifying force had saved Marchesa Carnien, and Stella herself bore the situation bravely. Nevertheless...

I saw cars, carriages, and pedestrians bundled up in coats speeding past on the street beyond the windows.

“Any word from the western capital, Cindy?” I asked.

“If you mean pleas for your hand in marriage, we receive more every day!”

I needed a moment.

“Please don’t mention those to the girls,” I reminded the smirking milky-haired maid. Then I returned to my thoughts.

As far as alleviating Stella’s symptoms went, loath though I was to admit it, I had no choice but to wait on the flower-dragon oracle I’d asked the dragonfolk chieftain for in the eastern capital. Dragons far surpassed mortal comprehension, and the oracular rites called on their wisdom.

Third, I wanted to decipher more of the notes that Tina and Stella’s mother, Duchess Rosa Howard, had left in the Nittis’ secret archive as a child.

Apart from that, the vampiress Alicia Coalfield, who claimed to have served as the legendary Shooting Star’s lieutenant in the War of the Dark Lord, and Io “Black Blossom” Lockfield, who had assassinated Robson Atlas, required a thorough investigation. I also couldn’t forget the sorcerer who had appeared to cast the great spell Falling Star at the tail end of the battle for the city of water...or the church’s self-proclaimed “Saint,” who had orchestrated a whole string of disasters from the shadows. The enigmatic stone tablet she had taken from its resting place sealed in the Old Temple worried me too. The thorny problems really had piled up.

Cindy twirled her pen. “One look at your face tells me you’ve taken on quite a lot. Don’t think I won’t put in a word with Lady Lydia if I catch you pushing yourself too hard.”

“She seems awfully busy herself these days,” I mused absentmindedly.

My partner, Lady Lydia Leinster, had been appointed to the personal guard of our old Royal Academy classmate Princess Cheryl Wainwright at the start of the year. The schemes of dreadful old men and the former Crown Prince John, whom they had set up as a figurehead, had purged the aristocracy of diehards who couldn’t see which way the wind was blowing and paved the way for Cheryl’s rise to heir apparent. Naturally, she had started attending a great many more gatherings, which kept Lydia equally busy. We hadn’t met face-to-face in two weeks. We did exchange small, magically conjured birds three times a day, but her recent messages reeked of a woman on the edge: “No more,” “I can’t take it,” “We’re eloping. To Lalannoy this time,” “Tell me how to beat this scheming princess right now,” and so on. Arranging to see her soon might serve the cause of peace.

A rapid clomp of footfalls in the corridor heralded the approach of someone who clearly did not excel at running. It seemed the mistress of the office had returned.

“Allen!” cried a scrawny, bespectacled girl as she burst into the room, long chestnut hair flying every which way. A flush brightened her pallid skin, and the bangs that hid her eyes bobbed up and down, as did her ample bosoms. She wore a white shirt and a long skirt, having evidently entrusted her winter outerwear to the maid who had accompanied her when she’d left for a business negotiation.

“Welcome back, Felicia. Was it cold outside?” I asked, magically warming the air around her.

This girl, Felicia Fosse, had been attending classes at the Royal Academy just a few short months earlier. She was close friends with both Stella and my sister, Caren. And through a quirk of fate, she currently led Allen & Co. as head clerk. During the war with the League of Principalities, she had served as inspector general of logistics and maintained difficult supply operations through the end of hostilities.

“Oh, yes,” Felicia answered, nodding. “The wind was so chilly that— Don’t try to change the subject! Jeez!”

Pouting fiercely, she strode up to my desk. Every nearby maid had an amused glimmer in her eyes. Oblivious to them, Felicia planted her little hands on the desk and fixed me with an icy stare.

“Weren’t you scheduled to take today off?” she demanded. “Won’t you be tutoring the girls this afternoon? That’s what it says on the board.”

“I finished preparing my lesson, so I thought I’d drop in,” I said. “To keep an eye on Cindy.”

“St-Still,” Felicia mumbled, looking down and fiddling with her fingers, “y-you could have picked a time when I’d be here.”

“Mr. Allen?” The milky-haired maid gave me another withering look.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Atra mimicking the bespectacled girl. Adorable.

“I took the liberty of reading your report,” I said, levitating a nearby chair and setting it down beside Felicia. “Business with Atlas seems to be growing nicely.”

“Yes, but we don’t have the profits to show for it yet,” she admitted, taking the proffered seat. “I think we should be using this time to plant seeds. I got a chance to speak with the president of the Skyhawk Company while I was in the southern capital. Atlas is just the first step to monopolizing every air lane in the league! I swear I’ll have all that trade under my thumb someday!” The big eyes peeking through her bangs burned with soaring ambition as she clenched her little fists.

I wouldn’t put it past her.

The face of the unfamiliar maid who had accompanied me to Atlas’s capital popped into my mind. Who had she been, anyway? She had smiled the whole trip.

“If you develop any concerns about Atlas, please share them with Niche,” I advised the bespectacled girl as maids converged to tidy her hair. “He seems to be building a good rapport with Marchese Atlas, so I doubt you need to worry about information leaking.”

Felicia immediately pursed her lips. “If you say so.”

What have we here? She seemed reasonably cheery until just now. I know Niche is an easy man to misunderstand, but even so.

While I pondered, a calm voice chimed in, “Miss Fosse is burning with envy because you repose so much trust in Don Niche Nitti. Just now, in the carriage, she insisted that he ‘won’t get the better of her.’”

A dark-skinned maid with dark-brown hair entered—Emma, the Leinster Maid Corps’s number four, who had been supporting Felicia since the company first opened for business. She carried a coat and scarf, both neatly folded.

I blinked and looked at Felicia, whose face had turned bright red.

“Er, w-well...can you blame me?! Y-You seem to trust him so much, and it doesn’t feel fair that—”

“Emma!” the milky-haired maid interrupted, pouncing to hug her brunette colleague. I waved my left hand, casting a levitation spell which deposited the papers that had just gone airborne on a nearby desk.

“Eek! C-Cindy?!” Emma cried. “S-See here. You’re number six now, so as a Leinster maid, you ought to show some decorum and...”

Felicia clasped her hands, eyes wide behind her spectacles and the rest of her complaint forgotten. Emma’s discomfiture couldn’t have been an everyday occurrence.

Meanwhile, Cindy pressed her head against Emma’s bosom and said simply, “Hard.”

“Cindy? I must have misheard you,” Emma responded slowly. “Need I remind you that the wrong word at the wrong time can put your life in danger? A-And you’re hardly one to talk!”

“Sorry, Emma, but I’ve got more than you!”