In the wilderness stood a tower of the faintest azure blue.
The surrounding land was sparse, adorned with only a few patches of
grass. In the midst of that wasteland, a young man on horseback looked up
at the lofty spire.
"So this is the tower where a witch lives." There was not one shred of
excitement in his tone as he gazed at the colossal structure.
The young man had hair so dark it was nearly black, and he had deepblue eyes—the same color as the sky after sunset.
The quality of his clothing and his graceful appearance spoke to an
innate elegance. That was not to suggest he was frail, as his muscled body
also exuded an aura of constant readiness. One who looked upon him would
liken him to a commander on the front lines of a battlefield, despite his
young age.
He was about to dismount and stride up to the tower when a voice
whined from behind him, giving him pause.
"Your Highness, we really shouldn't…"
"Shut up, Lazar. What would I be if I faltered here?" Shaking his head in
exasperation, he turned back around. The young man who had just been
called Your Highness was Oscar, the crown prince of the kingdom of
Farsas, the lands that extended east of the tower.
Oscar's retort to the attendant, a childhood friend he had brought with
him as his only companion, brimmed with confidence. "After all, we
managed to break out of the castle. Wouldn't it be pointless if we went back
now? It's just some light sightseeing."
"No one goes to a witch's house for sightseeing!" Lazar protested.
A witch.
There were only five throughout the entire mainland. Perhaps owing to
their tremendous power, they were treated as separate from everyone else.
The Witch of the Forbidden Forest.
The Witch of the Water.
The Witch Who Cannot Be Summoned.
The Witch of Silence.
The Witch of the Azure Moon.
These were the common names of the five. The witches appeared only
when they themselves desired it, using their almighty magic to summon
disasters and then promptly vanish. Over the last several hundred years,
they had come to symbolize fear and calamity.
Of this quintet, the one who possessed the most powerful magic was the
Witch of the Azure Moon. She had erected a suitably azure tower in the
wilds beyond any country's borders and lived at the very top of it. It was
said that she would grant the wish of any who could climb to the pinnacle
of her great spire, but as word spread that such challengers never return
from the tower, fewer and fewer people dared to even approach it.
Oscar and Lazar had come to this dangerous tower with a specific
purpose in mind.
"I told you, it's just as dangerous as I thought. What will you do if the
witch magnifies your curse?" asked Lazar.
"I'll deal with that if it comes. I don't have any other clues, do I?"
"There are still other ways… I'm sure if we look, we'll find
something…"
Oscar listened to Lazar's pleading as he dismounted his horse. He took
up the longsword in his saddle and returned it to the sword belt at his waist.
"You mentioned other ways, but none have been found in fifteen years.
First, I'll meet this Witch of the Azure Moon and ask her how to break the
curse. If this is a dead end, I'll go back to the Witch of Silence who cursed
me in the first place and get her to undo it. Flawless, right?"
"It's not flawless at all," Lazar whimpered, sounding close to tears as he
finally dismounted from his own steed. His skinny, gangly physique was
wholly unsuited for battle. He wasn't carrying any weapons, but that was
because the two had left in such a hurry. Lazar jogged after his lord, much
like he must have done when they'd escaped the castle.
"Your Highness, I understand your feelings… But the reason no one's
contacted the witches in fifteen years is because it's too dangerous! Any
search for the Witch of Silence has been fruitless, and no one who's
climbed the tower of the Witch of the Azure Moon has ever returned!"
"True. It does look a bit tall for taking the stairs," Oscar said.
The tower's walls were made of a blue-tinted, crystalline material that
made the structure appear to blend into the sky. Oscar craned his neck to
look all the way up toward the hazy, indistinct rooftop.
"Well, I'm sure I'll figure something out," he said.
"No, you won't! It's supposed to be full of traps! If something was to
happen to you, how could I possibly return to the castle? What would I
say?"
"Just act like you're really, really sad." Oscar shrugged and ambled off.
"Wait. I'm coming, too!" Lazar watched Oscar go and rushed to hitch
both their horses to a tree before hurrying after him.
It had all begun fifteen years ago. One night, a witch's proclamation
suddenly echoed throughout the castle.
"Never again shall you have children. Neither shall that son of yours.
The blood of your family will tear a hole in a woman's stomach. The Farsas
royal family dies with you!"
Oscar didn't quite remember the exact words the witch had said as she
cursed them. What he did remember was the shadowy silhouette of the
witch with the moon at her back. And how his father's arms had trembled
as he held Oscar. At only the age of five, Oscar hadn't understood how
serious such a pronouncement was. He had simply recognized that
something bad must have happened because of how the color had drained
from his father's face.
Oscar was the king's only child. This curse that threatened the lineage of
the royal family was a well-guarded secret. Few knew of it, most of those
being exceptional mages and scholars who'd been searching for years to
find a way to break it.
In contrast to such a dark thing to bear, Oscar himself had been a bright,
brave boy who'd mastered both swordsmanship and scholarship. Because
of his brilliance and good looks, many had high expectations for his future,
though they knew nothing of the curse. They would murmur "In time, he'll
be a king remembered throughout history." If the curse wasn't lifted,
however, all he'd leave behind would be an ill-fated name.
At the age of ten, Oscar came to understand what the curse meant and
began searching for a way to break it. Unfortunately, no matter how many
books he'd consulted or leads he'd chased down after practicing his
swordplay, Oscar hadn't found even a shred of a clue to show for it.
Fifteen years had passed since that night.
This man who would become king someday had traveled westward,
beyond the borders of his country, and now stood at the foot of the azure
tower where a witch lived.
"Well, let's go," Oscar said.
"You can't just open the door so callously! Be more cautious!"
With Lazar shrieking in his ear, Oscar pushed open the double doors and
stepped inside.
He looked around and found himself in a round, spacious hall. The
center was an open atrium, and a passage on the right-hand side led up. It
was not a staircase but a gently sloping path that hugged the wall and
extended upward in a corkscrew shape.
Oscar craned his neck; the whole tower appeared deserted. "Looks just
like the records said, I guess. At least the entrance does."
"Does this satisfy your curiosity?" Lazar asked shrilly.
"Let's keep going. C'mon, up we go."
According to the records left in the castle, the tower was fraught with
several checkpoints. The witch would grant the wishes of those who made it
past these challenges and reached the highest floor. Oscar's goal was to do
just that.
Checking to make sure his beloved sword was still at his waist, Oscar
set off with Lazar in tow.
There was no handrail along the passage, and Oscar could see that it led
up to a round landing. Some sort of huge stone slab had been placed there,
and Oscar headed for it as he climbed up the path. Lazar was trailing behind
timidly.
"It's dangerous, so you wait there. I'll be back by sundown," Oscar
called.
"N-no… I couldn't do that…," answered Lazar.
For quite some time, Lazar had been following after Oscar, starting with
when Oscar had first escaped from the palace, and Lazar had ended up in
some nasty situations because of it. Each time, he'd rained complaints down
on Oscar's head, but it still didn't look like he planned on abandoning his
reckless lord.
Oscar regarded Lazar and smiled faintly before turning to continue
upward.
As the two approached the landing, they saw it was about the size of a
small room. A list of numbers was carved into the stone slab in the middle.
Oscar started to think of solutions as he strode up to it, and Lazar piped up
in a quivering voice, "Your Highness…th-that's—"
"I'm thinking now. There's most likely some sort of commonality,"
Oscar said, cutting him off.
"Not that! The snakes! There are so many of them!"
"I see them."
The floor of the landing was overflowing with writhing snakes. There
was no wall separating the landing from downstairs; what kept the snakes
from escaping the landing was likely some kind of magical barrier.
Oscar remained undaunted. He crouched down and grabbed the head of
one of the snakes that was sticking out into the passage.
"They're not venomous, so it's fine. They're just here to get in our way."
He tossed it over his shoulder, earning a scream from Lazar. Oscar paid it
no mind and stepped into the midst of the serpents. When he approached
the stone slab, he put his hand on his chin and pondered.
The rock had been placed to obstruct the passage upward, so Oscar
couldn't proceed. He mulled this over, ignoring the snakes winding around
his feet, while Lazar let out little shrieks as he gingerly picked his way to
his lord. This was most likely the first checkpoint. Oscar nodded, his eyes
on the stone slab.
"I got it. This is a mathematical theory studied about a hundred years
ago in a small country to the east. It was famous among mathematicians for
being an unsolvable problem."
"Unsolvable?!"
"At the time, yeah, but someone figured it out around ten years ago. The
witch in this tower really knows her stuff."
Oscar reached out and touched the slab. The spot where his fingers
connected lit up with a faint white light. Following that trajectory, he input
the answer, and then…
The gigantic stone slab crumbled into sand. At the same time, the snakes
writhing at Oscar's feet vanished as though they'd been entirely illusory.
Astonished, Oscar gaped around the landing, which was now
distinguished only by a mountain of sand.
"I see. So that's how things work."
"…Shouldn't we go home?" Lazar pleaded.
"No way. It just got interesting."
Lazar chased after his spirited lord as he continued the climb up the
path. The top of the tower was still so very far away.
The wind that blew through the windows on the topmost floor was always
somewhat dry. A voice called out in a large, disorderly room with books
piled all over the floor.
"We have the first challenger in a long time, Master."
The person speaking from the doorway was a small child of about five
or six years old, judging by appearance. This youth had pretty features but a
blank expression, making it difficult to discern their gender. Their
emotionless voice gave the odd child a doll-like quality.
The witch's child-shaped familiar looked at the table—no one was there.
Atop the table sat a lone, steaming cup of tea. It had been there for over an
hour but showed no sign of cooling.
The one person who should have been there was missing from this
tableau. However, the attendant received a reply right away.
"A challenger? How rare. I thought everyone had forgotten all about this
tower."
"There was one a month ago, too. They couldn't solve the first stoneslab puzzle and ran out of time," answered the child.
The traps in the tower were changed regularly, but ever since the first
checkpoint had been set with its current challenge, not a single contender
had managed to get past. Perhaps they hadn't thought they'd have to solve
an impossible math problem right off the bat in a tower said to have the
most difficult obstacles in the entire land. There also weren't many
contenders to begin with, so it was no wonder the owner of the tower had
misremembered.
The familiar reached with their mind to sense the challengers very far
below them. "It seems like the ones this time around are making steady
progress upward. Would you like to go take a look?"
"No. The real fun starts on this level, if they can actually reach it."
"Indeed."
Witches were beings better off lurking in the shadows of history. While
this one's exact whereabouts were known, very few humans could actually
make it past the tower's perilous checkpoints. The witch had no desire to
reveal herself, content to wait for others to reach her.
She sang out in a clear tone, "Go, Litola. When our guests fail, be sure
to take care of things."
"Yes, Master."
A dry breeze wafted in. The familiar she had called Litola disappeared,
and the witch, floating upside down on the ceiling, cocked her head. She
muttered to herself, holding an open book to her chest.
"Even if these two are advancing at the moment, no one makes it past
the first guardian beast."
A double-edged sword pierced the lion's throat.
Oscar had expected a splatter of blood, but none came. The white lion,
frozen in a leaping attack, tumbled to the floor like an automaton. Without
sheathing his sword, Oscar took a closer look at the beast's huge body. It
was even bigger than a horse.
"I thought this thing's fur was super-white, but it turns out it wasn't even
real. I guess it's some sort of guardian beast animated by magic?"
"A lion this huge is terrifying, but the fact that Your Highness isn't
scared of it at all is even more terrifying…"
"I'm just warming up. Wonder what'll come at us next…"
Exiting the hall where the lion had been, Oscar and Lazar were met by
the tower's passageway again. Oscar looked down the open atrium in the
middle of the tower. The distant sight of the ground floor was enough to
make anyone feel light-headed, but Oscar peered at it fearlessly.
"That's a mortal fall," he remarked.
"Please don't get so close to the edge!" Lazar pleaded.
"You should've just waited for me at the bottom…"
When Oscar looked back, he saw Lazar edging nervously along the wall.
With that attitude, he might never reach the top floor. Nevertheless, Lazar's
face was desperate and determined as he cried, "I won't let you die alone
here, Your Highness!"
"I don't plan on dying."
Oscar lightly brandished his sword. Along the ascent, he'd encountered
countless traps and monsters in the guise of guardian beasts, but he'd cut
them all down easily. They were about to reach the midpoint of the tower.
At first, his biggest worry had been the tower's height, but as a device
had activated that brought them automatically to the next level after
disarming a trap, that was no longer a concern. The traps, on the other hand,
were clearly testing Oscar's physical strength, power output, judgment, and
intellect. All of these were equally necessary to get past them.
"I guess normally you'd attempt this with a team of people," mused
Oscar.
"No one's been fool enough to try to climb with only two…"
"The last one who made it all the way was my great-granddad, right?"
"I heard he went up with a party of ten. Although, His Majesty the
former king was the only one to reach the top."
"I see…" Oscar pondered that, putting the hand not currently holding a
sword to his chin.
About seventy years ago, Regius, his great-grandfather and the king of
Farsas at that time, had reached the top of this tower and received the
witch's assistance. However, that had apparently incurred some form of
debt. Nowadays, it was a story told only to children as a fairy tale.
"It's been a walk in the park until now," Oscar commented.
"We should go home!" Lazar whined again.
"You can go home. You're useless anyway," Oscar quipped flatly as
Lazar burst into anguished tears.
As they spoke, the next door appeared in front of them. From about the
fifth floor up, checkpoints had occurred not on the landings connected to
the passageway but in separate chambers.
Oscar opened the door without hesitation and saw, in the middle of the
room, a pair of winged stone statues twice the size of a human. The sight
would've made any child cry, but Oscar seemed content to offer his casual
thoughts. "Those really look like they'd move if you get close to them."
"Without a doubt! They will move! Let's leave!"
"You should seriously wait outside…"
Oscar took a deep breath and readied his sword. As he did, the stony
skin of the statues morphed into a bewitching black color. Their empty eye
sockets glowed red. Spreading their enormous wings without so much as a
sound, they flew up into the air.
Oscar signaled with his left hand, and Lazar rushed to plaster himself
against the wall.
Immediately after that, one statue flew toward Oscar. The black monster
swooped in fast, like a bird of prey diving after a kill. Just before its sharp
talons could rip his body apart, Oscar leaped nimbly to the left. As if it had
been waiting for that, the second statue chose that moment to swoop toward
him.
"Oops."
Fending off its talons with his sword, Oscar slipped out from between
the attackers and came around from behind. Effortlessly, but with
phenomenal strength, he sliced off one wing from the first statue.
The wounded thing let out an earsplitting shriek. Oscar lifted his sword
again toward the monster curled up on the ground. It had all happened in a
flash.
"Master, the challengers have reached the stone-statue room."
Hearing her familiar's update, the witch smiled a little as she boiled
water. "That's amazing. How many?"
"Two… No, in reality, one."
This fact should have been surprising, but the witch only lifted an
eyebrow. For decades now, none had made it this far, no matter the size of
their party.
It should have been impossible for one person to handle the stone-statue
room. A challenger couldn't properly fend off two quick-witted and agile
enemies who could fly without someone to distract one, allowing the first to
fight the other. That room had seen more challengers drop out than any
other.
"I thought I'd make some tea, but it looks like it's pointless now. Since
our guest has made it so far, I suppose I should take out the fighting-spirit
prize?"
"It looks like he'll clear that rather easily."
"…What?"
Dreadful shrieks echoed around the wide room. One monster with a sword
stuck in its right eye was letting out a piercing cry. Its companion was
already lying on the floor, its giant, motionless body slowly disintegrating
into black specks that vanished into the air.
The remaining enemy was lashing out with its left arm as black ooze
dripped from its right eye. Strengthened by the statue monster's rage, such a
strike threatened instant death if it found purchase. However, the attack
grasped nothing but empty air.
Oscar dodged the deadly swipe with his formidable reflexes and slashed
down to cut the monster's neck. Its head hit the floor with a dull sound. The
huge, headless statue swayed left and right and finally tumbled to the
ground.
"So that's all there was to it? Pretty annoying."
Oscar flicked his sword to shake off the blood. He glanced back and saw
Lazar giving him a relieved look. "I'm just glad you're not hurt…," he said.
"I would've been worse than hurt if I'd taken a hit from them," Oscar
joked as he looked ahead. As the fallen statues disappeared, a spot in the
back of the room began glowing faintly. The mechanism that would
transport them to the next floor had begun to operate.
"Let's go."
Oscar set off for the device.
That was when the whole room began to shake violently.
"What's going on?!" Oscar shouted.
He looked around to see that holes had opened up all over the floor. The
room caving in appeared to be part of a trap. The rest of the floor began
slowly collapsing inward, too.
"Hurry, Lazar!" Oscar looked over his shoulder, then gasped in shock.
There was a gigantic hole between him and Lazar, who was still against the
wall. Lazar was stranded.
Oscar knew he could make the jump, but it was impossible for Lazar to
leap that great a distance. Making a decision, Oscar turned on his heel to
run toward Lazar. "Wait for me!"
More and more of the room collapsed, revealing the distant ground
level. The path to the transportation mechanism had largely fallen away;
little more than bits resembling stepping-stones remained.
Lazar raised his hands in front of him, urging his lord away. "Your
Highness, please go on without me."
"Are you insane?! You're going to fall!"
"No, I'll be fine. I'm very sorry, but I'm heading back first," said Lazar.
His face was pale, but he maintained a smile as he gave a deep bow. "Please
go on ahead… With all my heart, I will be looking forward to the day you
become king," said the attendant who had been a constant at Oscar's side
for as long as either could remember. Lazar did not lift his head. His voice
was quivering slightly but also held a note of tempered determination.
"Wait, Lazar!" Oscar sounded panicked. He stretched out a hand in vain.
The next moment, with an intense roaring sound, the ground beneath Lazar
gave way.
There were five floors left.
All of these featured abstruse puzzles or powerful monsters, but Oscar
cut his way through each dispassionately. It was as if he'd climbed the
tower alone from the start. Even with Lazar gone, Oscar had no trouble with
battle. However, an indescribable sense of despondency plagued his whole
body. Oscar imagined that when his great-grandfather had climbed this
tower seventy years ago with a party of ten friends and had been the only
one to make it to the top, he must have felt the same.
As the thought swirled about in his mind, Oscar at last reached the door
to the top floor.
The thing that first caught his eye when he opened the door was the
incredible landscape visible through the chamber's enormous window.
It was the top floor of the tower, after all, so the view commanded the
far edges of the wilderness. The sun was just setting, and Oscar was
speechless in the face of the grand, natural vista dyed in reds and purples.
He had never gazed out at the land from up so high before. A gentle breeze
blew in, ruffling his hair.
The room itself was large and messy. Along the walls, a variety of
mysterious objects had been stacked haphazardly—from swords and boxes
to jars and statues. Oscar could see a great many magical items mixed in as
well. Aside from the jumble of paraphernalia against the walls, everything
else resembled any ordinary person's room.
"Welcome."
A delicate, flutelike voice caught Oscar's ear. It sounded like it was
coming from the blind spot farther into the chamber.
"I've made some tea. Come here."
Still holding his sword at the ready, Oscar advanced cautiously. Deeper
inside, the space was still jam-packed with miscellany, just like the entrance
had been. On the left-hand side by the window, he could see a small
wooden table and a couple of steaming cups. He took a deep breath,
steeling himself as he took another step forward.
She was standing there with her back to him.
"Your companion is sleeping on the first floor. He's not hurt," the witch
said, turning around and smiling at him.
"It's nice to meet you. My name is Tinasha, although there aren't many
people who call me by my name." Her smooth greeting was so airy it
almost felt anticlimactic.
Oscar sat down in the chair she had indicated and began questioning her.
"You're a witch? You don't look like it."
"How foolish to question a witch's appearance." Tinasha shook her
head, finding Oscar's inquiry strange. To all appearances, she resembled a
beautiful young woman of sixteen or seventeen. She wasn't wearing a black
robe, nor was she some hunched hag. Clad in an ordinary dress made of
high-quality fabric that looked easy to move around in, she took a seat
opposite Oscar.
The witch possessed exceptionally good looks. Long black hair and
porcelain-white skin. Her eyes were the color of the deepest darkness—
night given shape. Her beauty was somewhat melancholy and yet serene,
more striking than that of any of the young noblewomen Oscar had seen
before.
"Have you used magic to change your appearance?" Oscar asked,
voicing a naive doubt.
"You do ask the rudest questions. It's all natural," she replied.
"But you've lived for hundreds of years, and you don't have any
wrinkles."
"I have lived many times longer than humans, yes. My body's growth
has simply stopped, that's all." She brought a cup of tea to her red petalshaped lips.
Oscar felt completely undone; this girl was so different from what he'd
imagined a witch to be.
Apparently, Tinasha had expected such a reaction and smirked wryly as
she urged the conversation forward. "So? Now it's your turn to talk, don't
you think? You're the first one who's made it this far all on your own. You
should tell me your name."
Oscar straightened up at the question. Nobility and majesty emanated
from him naturally, transforming his whole bearing. "I apologize. I am
Oscar Lyeth Increatos Loz Farsas."
When she heard his surname, the witch's eyes widened slightly. "Farsas?
The Farsas royal family?"
"I'm the crown prince, yes."
"A descendant of Regius?"
"I'm his great-grandson."
"Woooooooooowww," Tinasha said, looking him up and down with a
scrutinizing eye.
"Come to think of it, you do look a bit alike…maybe? Although, you
could see in his face how good-natured Regius was."
"Sorry for being bad-natured," Oscar quipped coolly, and the witch burst
out laughing.
"I'm sorry. You're a fine man. Reg was too pure and could be a bit
childish…" As Tinasha spoke, she gazed out the window, and for a
moment, Oscar could see something more than nostalgia in her eyes.
Those black orbs unmistakably belonged to someone who had lived for
a long time, and the emotions swimming in them convinced Oscar that this
really was the Witch of the Azure Moon.
When Tinasha looked back at him, however, all those feelings vanished
like they'd never been there. She was smiling like any other young woman
would've. Oscar suddenly hit upon something to ask.
"Do you live here alone?"
"I have a familiar. Litola!"
In response to their master's call, Litola appeared soundlessly in the
doorway. The genderless familiar faced Oscar and bowed.
"This is the first time we have met. My name is Litola. Your companion
is under a spell and sleeping soundly, so I covered him with a blanket."
"Oh, thank you."
Lazar was safe, and so far, Oscar hadn't detected that Tinasha harbored
any hostility. It was like they were just having a tea party. Oscar lifted the
cup in front of him, and a comforting scent tickled his nose. Everything
about this was all very far removed from the impression he'd gotten from
the plausible-sounding tales whispered about this tower on the street.
"What happened to the people who came here and never went home?
Did they end up in some mass grave?"
Tinasha openly scowled. "Don't just decide that people are sitting in
holes. I don't want dead bodies in the tower. I arrange things in such a way
that they don't die."
"If one of those stone statues landed a blow on them, they'd die."
"The moment a fatal wound occurs, they are returned to the first floor.
After that, I adjust the memories of disqualified challengers and teleport
them somewhere on the mainland. Most of my visitors are those seeking to
test their skills or covetous of fame. I assumed they were ready to pay a
price of that order, at the very least."
Tinasha's smile turned sweet and wholesome. As she sipped her tea, she
exuded the dignity of the master of this tower. The elegance of her actions,
coupled with her beauty, would have made it difficult not to mistake her for
a member of the royal family. That is, if it hadn't been for the unusual
surroundings.
As Oscar's eyes widened a little, Litola cut in. "However, in the case of
those who came for things like wanting their deathly ill child healed, my
master granted those requests even if the challengers failed."
"Don't speak out of turn." Tinasha looked embarrassed and averted her
gaze from Oscar. The intimidating air she'd so confidently held a moment
ago vanished, and now she looked even younger than she appeared.
Oscar's impression of the witch was constantly changing, a fact he
found amusing. "It's hard to get a handle on you."
"It's fine if you don't." The sulky reply was adorable.
"Do you not go into town? I've heard the other witches appear before
people more often than you do."
"Only if there's something I have to go out and get myself… I don't
really want to thoughtlessly interfere in humans' lives, though. My power is
not something that should be wielded on a whim."
"I see. If only the Witch of Silence could take a page out of your book."
Tinasha cocked her head at Oscar suddenly dropping another witch's
name. "Does that have something to do with the reason you came here?"
she asked.
"…Which is why I'd like you to lift the curse."
In response to her question, Oscar had explained the events of that night
fifteen years ago.
Frowning, Tinasha had listened with her arms crossed. When he finished
speaking, she let out a deep sigh. "Why did she give you a curse like that?"
"My dad doesn't want to talk about it, so I haven't asked. Apparently, it
has something to do with my mom, who died before it happened."
"…I see." For a moment, Tinasha's eyes narrowed as if she had realized
something, but before Oscar could puzzle over it, her expression returned to
normal. She uncrossed her arms and lightly tapped her forehead with her
index finger.
"I must inform you ahead of time that a 'curse' may not always be
lifted."
"What do you mean?"
"What we call magic is organized under common rules and operates
based on that, but a curse follows no rules. Language…is not just words; it
also encompasses all nonverbal communication methods, like body
language. But the words we choose carry the meaning we define for them,
and pouring magic into that makes it a curse. Of course, this is different
depending on the person who's cursed…so in extreme cases, if a way to
break the curse is not defined at the time the words are spoken, even the
caster cannot undo it."
"…So it can't be broken?"
"It can't, but on the other hand, curses aren't things of exceptional
power. They block or bend the flow of natural energy, depending on the will
of the individual. They don't have the power to kill someone directly. At
most, they work in indirect ways…but they aren't unavoidable."
Feeling dubious about such an explanation, Oscar asked another
question. "But isn't this curse pretty strong?"
"Yes, yours exceeds those normal limits. That's because what's been
placed on you is not actually a curse but something more akin to a blessing
or protection."
"What?"
Oscar was dumbfounded, and Tinasha got up from her seat. Leaning her
slender body over the table, she reached out to him with a pure-white hand.
Her skin was so pale, it made one think of freshly fallen snow. One look at
the witch's fingers as they came closer, and Oscar couldn't move.
Her soft palm didn't touch him, though; instead, she grazed her fingers
along his face without touching it. Quite suddenly, a red sigil emerged from
the spot where Tinasha had nearly stroked him.
"What's that?"
"I've visualized the blessing placed on you. This is just one part of it,
though." Tinasha pulled her hand back, and the sigil vanished as quickly as
it had appeared. She sat back down.
"Blessings and curses are basically cast the same way, but the direction
of power is different. You take the energy that's already here and boost it. In
your case, you've had something fairly strong placed on you, owing to how
much power the caster had. What's been cast on you takes advantage of that
and will likely wrap any child you conceive in tremendous energy while in
the womb, protecting it. A normal mother's body could not withstand such
a thing."
Oscar was uncharacteristically taken aback by such an extremely novel
explanation and sat there in shock. Across from him, the witch looked on
him with pity.
"Um, so what you're saying is that, after all that, you can't undo it…?"
Oscar asked.
"If I could analyze what's been cast on you, I could use magic to reduce
the effects, but the enchantment has been a part of you for close to twenty
years now… That's the Witch of Silence for you." As if squinting at
something hard to see, Tinasha narrowed her eyes and focused her gaze on
Oscar's chest. "I do feel so sorry for you, but…"
"Hey…"
An awkward silence fell. The heavy mood felt like it would last forever,
but Tinasha broke it by jumping up and lightly clapping her hands together.
"Since you've come all the way here, I'll at least do what I can to help."
As she spoke, she brought out a shallow bowl of water from the depths
of the room and set it on the table. Magical designs were carved the inside,
and what little water it held sparkled in the light of the setting sun.
"Do you have something you can try?" Oscar asked.
"There's a simple countermeasure."
Sitting back down, the witch held her right hand over the scrying bowl.
Ripples appeared on the surface of the water, though there had not been any
wind.
"Because the issue lies in the fact that the mother won't be able to
withstand the protective power the baby carries, you must choose a strong
woman who can."
"…That is simple. Does a woman like that exist?"
"There are sure to be one or two somewhere on the mainland…most
likely. I'm going to search with an emphasis on magical power and magical
resistance, so ignore anything else."
The image of a faraway forest appeared on the surface of the water.
Oscar clenched his forehead so tightly he was going to give himself a
headache.
"What if it's someone's wife or an old woman or a child?"
"If she's married, she's off-limits, and we can't do anything about that.
We can, however, fix old age with magic… If she's a child, then that's
great; you can raise her to be just what you like! Age gaps of twenty years
are normal in a royal family, after all," Tinasha replied brightly with a
smile. "I haven't really started searching yet, though, so please be
optimistic."
"Right…" Feeling like he really was going to get a migraine, Oscar held
his head in both hands.
Regardless of the fair amount of hope he'd had in taking on the tower,
Oscar's worst fears had been confirmed by the witch, and now this was
happening. What's more, it seemed the one who'd placed the "curse" in the
first place couldn't even remove it. Oscar was really in a fix. Were there
truly no other options? Stewing over how he now had to be "optimistic,"
something suddenly occurred to him.
"Tinasha."
"Whoa! What?"
"Did that startle you?"
As if in response to her surprise, some water splashed onto the table
even though she hadn't touched it. Tinasha wiped off her wet right hand.
"Because hardly anyone calls me by my name…," she answered.
"But you're the one who told it to me."
"I'm sorry." Tinasha took a cloth from Litola and mopped the water off
the table. Folding the cloth, she again asked, "So what is it?"
"Ah, uh, what about you?"
Tinasha didn't seem to understand the question and was pointing at
herself with a puzzled expression.
In response, Oscar restated his query more clearly, "Could you
withstand the Witch of Silence's magic?"
"Easily, but… Wait…"
Tinasha finally understood, and her face visibly paled.
"Well then, that's sorted." Oscar resettled himself in his chair and
drained the last of his tea. Tinasha jumped half out of her seat, face white as
a ghost.
"Hey, hold on just a minute…"
"You're a sure thing compared to a woman who might not even exist.
My wish as champion is for you to descend from this tower and be my
wife." Oscar made the request with complete confidence, as though it were
his right.
Tinasha froze, but soon enough, her small hands slapped down on the
table. "I—I cannot do something like that!"
"You said you'd do what you could, didn't you?" Oscar drawled.
"There are limits! I can't!"
Amused, Oscar watched her yell herself blue in the face. "Are you
actually married?"
"I have never been married."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"I never have."
"You said there were ways to fix old age."
"Yes, I'm old, but it's irritating to have you call me old! And that's not
the point!" Tinasha was leaning over the table, her smile twitching. Cold
sweat started to dot her forehead. "It's not wise to introduce a witch into the
royal family's lineage. The royal council would all vomit blood over the
idea."
"I'd kinda like to see that…" Oscar lazily dodged her desperate attempts
at resistance, and the witch collapsed into her chair, exhausted.
"You're like Reg in a lot of ways, but you're also not like him at all…
You've got some personality."
"Guess I'm bad-natured," Oscar replied calmly, earning a glare from
Tinasha.
The witch shook her head and took some deep breaths. "In any case, the
answer is no. If I let wishes like that slide, I'd be your great-grandmother."
Though imperceptibly, Oscar was surprised to hear those words but, at
the same time, found them plausible. His great-grandfather, the one Tinasha
had said was too pure, had probably fallen in love with this witch seventy
years ago. Apparently, Tinasha hadn't accepted his proposal. Such
circumstances differed greatly from the fairy tale about his greatgrandfather that was told in Farsas. It interested Oscar somewhat. He
wanted to ask for details, but since they'd only just met, that would've
likely been impolite. Oscar swallowed his childish questions.
"My great-granddad might have backed down, but I'm not him, and that
really has nothing to do with me anyway."
"What are you talking about? It wasn't okay then, and it's not okay now!
That's a no all across the board!"
"Seventy years have passed, so how can you say no with such certainty?
Be a little more flexible."
"There are limits to flexibility!"
While Tinasha was making a huge fuss, Litola reached out from beside
her to take away the empty cups sitting on the table.
By the time the familiar returned with a fresh pot of tea, Oscar and
Tinasha were still arguing back and forth.
Oscar was calm but completely unwilling to back down, and the witch
appeared quite mentally worn out.
Finally hitting her limit, Tinasha sighed. "Ugh, if you're going to be this
unreasonable, I'm going to alter your memory and send you back to your
castle!"
"I don't think what you just said speaks well of your character."
"That's my line!" Tinasha stood up, and with a smile, she extended her
right hand toward Oscar. Something was gathering in her palm. The mood
of the room changed in an instant.
"Hey, hey, I'm gonna fight back." Oscar had been acting nonchalant but
finally got to his feet and drew his sword. When Tinasha saw the hilt of the
weapon, she made an obvious face.
"Why are you walking around with something like that? It's a national
treasure."
"Things like this were made to be used."
The well-polished, double-edged blade drew Tinasha's eye and sparkled
like a mirror. Antique decorations ornamented the handle of the weapon.
The royal sword Akashia, passed down through the ages in Farsas, was the
only sword in the world that had full magical resistance.
There was a legend that, a long time ago, nonhuman creatures had
pulled the sword from a lake and gifted it, but the story had never been
confirmed. The weapon had been around since Farsas was founded and,
until recently, had hardly ever been used in combat. It was only worn by the
king on formal occasions. Oscar treated the weapon like one of his personal
belongings. It was clearly something any mage would regard as their
natural enemy, and Tinasha, as a witch, was no exception.
Looking sour, she hesitated awhile longer before dispelling the magic
she'd started to summon.
"Urgh. Let's talk this out a bit more."
"I couldn't agree more. Calm down."
As they both took their seats again, Litola refilled their teacups. Tinasha
used her hands to brush back bits of her hair that were starting to come
undone.
"You are oddly stubborn. You really should give up."
"I could say the same about you…" Looking pensive, Oscar brought his
cup to his lips. Just then, he remembered something. "That's right. I heard
that seventy years ago you spent some time living at Farsas Castle."
"For about half a year, yes. I taught magic and grew flowers. It was
fairly interesting."
Oscar felt like he could believe that, though he had a hard time
imagining it, and tilted his head in contemplation. "Was that my greatgranddad's wish?"
"No," Tinasha answered, smiling at him, her eyes crinkling. Based on
how clipped her reply was, it was obvious she had no intention of telling
Oscar what Regius's actual wish had been.
Oscar lifted an eyebrow a little at that, but he saw the meaning of her
reply and didn't press further. Instead, he proposed a different wish of his
own. "How about this: Leave here for a year and live with me in Farsas.
That's my request as champion. Could you accept that?"
Tinasha looked taken aback by the unexpected demand. When she
considered their extended back-and-forth, however, she thought it a
considerable compromise. One year wasn't very long for a witch like
Tinasha. In the blink of an eye, she flashed back to her fond memories of
the sights of Farsas. The witch took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she
made her decision.
"Fine, then. I'll come down from this tower as your protector. For one
year, starting today, you and I have a contract."
She lifted her arm, and one white finger stretched out toward Oscar's
forehead. A faint white light emanated from her fingertip before passing
through the air and disappearing into his forehead. Oscar pressed his fingers
to where the light had touched him but didn't notice anything strange.
"What did you do?"
"It's a mark. To start with."
Tinasha rose with a smile, stretching both arms high above her to loosen
her stiff body.
"If I'm leaving the tower, we'll have to close off the entrance. Litola,
take care of it."
"Understood."
Litola left the room, and Oscar stood up as well.
Dusk had already fallen, and the last streaks of light colored the valley
in the distance. Oscar came to stand next to Tinasha. He was a lot taller and
looked down at her with an evil smile.
"If you change your mind partway through and decide to stay in Farsas
permanently, that's fine with me."
"I won't."
And so, the Witch of the Azure Moon became the protector of the crown
prince of Farsas and appeared among the people for the first time in close to
seventy years. Little did she know that a story that would strum the strings
of her own fate was just beginning.
"Lazar! Wake up!"
The young man jerked awake reflexively at the sound of his lord's voice
and found himself in the shade of the same tree the horses were hitched to
just outside the tower. Lazar took in his surroundings before looking up at
Oscar, who was right behind him.
"Huh? Your Highness…? Wasn't I just…climbing the tower…? It's
already dark?"
"Enough. We're going home. Get up."
Puzzling over the fogginess in his mind, Lazar got to his feet. He undid
the horses' ties. "You're ready to return?"
"Yeah, my business is finished."
Lazar thought that was strange but led his horse out anyway. As he did,
he noticed for the first time that someone was standing in his lord's shadow.
When the young, beautiful girl noticed Lazar's eyes on her, she smiled like
a flower blooming. Her black hair and white skin seemed to be traits of
some unknown country, and her powerful dark eyes completely sucked him
in.
"Your Highness, who is…?"
"She's the witch's apprentice, and she's leaving the tower to live in
Farsas for a while."
"My name is Tinasha."
The girl bowed politely, so Lazar hurried to lower his own head in kind.
Although Oscar had said she was leaving the tower, she wasn't carrying a
single bag. Lazar found that odd and approached his lord to whisper in his
ear. "If this is the witch's apprentice, does that mean you met the witch?"
"Yeah, I did."
"She didn't eat you up?"
"Do you want me to hit you…?"
Oscar swung up into the saddle and offered Tinasha a hand. Lazar still
looked worried. Oscar started to say something to his attendant before
grimacing a little. "It was an…interesting experience. In a lot of ways."
Looking bitter for some reason, Oscar pulled Tinasha up into the saddle.
With her petite stature, she settled easily in front of him before lowering her
long eyelashes.
Perhaps because of her hair and eyes, Tinasha's beauty called to mind a
clear night. She looked entirely at home in her current position—like she'd
been by Oscar's side forever. Lazar was entirely captivated by the pretty
picture the two painted. Oscar frowned at his childhood friend.
"What's up? Didn't you want to go home?"
"Oh, y-yes… Sorry."
Lazar rushed to mount his own horse. The sun had set, and night was
fast encroaching. Tinasha gave a wave of her hand, and a small light
emerged just past the horse's muzzle.
Oscar voiced his admiration for the orb illuminating their way. "Magic,
huh? That's convenient."
"I can do this anytime. Feel free to ask whenever you want to burn
something."
"No need. All you have to do is stay near me," Oscar replied smoothly,
and Tinasha looked up at him in dismay. She soon recovered, closing her
eyes and smiling.
As Lazar watched the two of them, he suddenly got the faintest hint of a
premonition—one that told him that, from here on out, things were going to
get very muddied.
"Let's go, Lazar."
The horse carrying Oscar and the girl broke into a gallop. Lazar took up
his own reins and cast a final glance back at the tower.
In the dim light, he could see that the door that had once been there had
disappeared. In its place was the same smooth, azure surface that made up
the rest of the structure.