Episode 12.
“I don’t know…… Zoroaster isn’t even preserved in a portrait……
I mean, how could I possibly know the face of someone I’ve never even met?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Staria answered with her body language that she had absolutely no knowledge of Zoroaster’s appearance.
“Do you not know personally? Haven’t you at least heard that one of your ancestors was a famous prophet? Even something vaguely similar?”
“No.”
“Please think again carefully. Surely your family must have produced some remarkable figures.”
“Probably not?”
“What if we broaden the scope? A distant relative, a cousin by marriage, maybe even a friend’s son. No connection to Zoroaster at all?”
“At that point…… wouldn’t that just be a stranger?”
If her family had been connected to a mythical figure, her mother certainly would have told her. But she had never even heard the “Zo” in Zoroaster. On the contrary, whenever Staria asked out of curiosity, her mother had always evaded the question with, “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
Could it be that one of my ancestors swindled Zoroaster or something?
The way Taylor was practically glaring at her made it clear that’s what he suspected. Staria crossed her arms, realizing it was a situation where—even if she knew—she’d have to feign ignorance.
“I really don’t know.”
Taylor looked genuinely disappointed. His expectation must have been high, for his expression was almost like a man who’d just received a terminal diagnosis.
“That’s unfortunate.”
It seemed as if he were finally giving up, so Staria thought the questioning was over…… but no. She had to keep playing dumb, because his monocle glinted with determination, as if he were set on uncovering some hidden connection no matter what.
After a short tea break, Taylor offered to guide her around the castle. Since she had only wandered around familiar areas and didn’t know the full layout, Staria gladly followed.
“Verakin Castle is divided into the inner castle and the outer castle. The inner castle is where you’re staying now. The outer castle, to the east and west, is where the hired staff—including myself—reside.”
Pride overflowed in the steward’s voice.
“Verakin Castle is a structure that can rival any royal castle.”
Though she had never visited another castle, Staria found herself agreeing.
In front of the castle stretched vast green plains, and behind it loomed steep mountains like a natural fortress. Rising proudly in the middle stood the castle itself—too grand to take in at once, majestic and imposing. Could architecture resemble its master? It looked almost like a reflection of him.
“Though not flashy in decoration, architecturally speaking it is near perfect. Count the bricks someday—the horizontal and vertical ratios form the golden ratio.”
The steward went on to explain: the main castle had 124 rooms, the outer castle 50, and the annex 30—about 200 rooms in total, most of them empty.
“On the first floor are the dining hall and the Great Hall; the second floor, where you’re staying, has the ballroom and reception room; the third floor holds the master’s chamber and the library. There are tea rooms on every floor. Though we clean them diligently, they’re rarely used.”
Taylor sighed that it was a waste of labor, and urged her to make use of them now and then—objects and places alike needed a human touch.
“If I were to choose the castle’s three greatest boasts, they would be the storeroom, the training ground, and the library. The storeroom is built with eternal ice that preserves food indefinitely, the training ground is designed to withstand almost any shock, and the library…… the library is a must-see. Around four hundred thousand volumes are housed there.”
Taylor adjusted his glasses and added:
“It even holds rare first editions from notable scholars. Above all, the works of the philosopher Miley Taylor are indispensable reading.”
“Miley Taylor?”
The familiar name made Staria stare at him. Taylor smirked shamelessly.
“How did you know? Your deductive powers are remarkable. Yes, I am the author. I’d be happy to sign a copy for you.”
It was bold, to say the least. The maids had been right: Taylor bragged as naturally as breathing.
Eventually, after visiting the library on the fifth floor and locating the section where his works were stored, Staria was finally freed from his endless tour.
“You may go anywhere in the castle, Lady Staria. Anywhere except the underground. You must never, ever go there. Understood? Absolutely not.”
Taylor was so strict about it that Staria had to nod vigorously.
“That should about conclude the tour.”
Just then, as she was catching her breath, two maids appeared from the opposite direction, carrying mops.
Should she greet them, or not? While Staria hesitated, Maid No. 2 turned down another corridor and disappeared, even though she had seemed to be coming straight toward Staria.
They hate me.
She had been living in the castle for nearly ten days, but the maids’ cold treatment remained unchanged. Since learning that she could hear normally, they had begun actively avoiding her. She tried to comfort herself, saying indifference was easier to handle, but she couldn’t stop feeling disheartened.
I want to be friends with them……
Wanting to befriend those who disliked her? Some might scoff and say her optimism made life easy. True, part of it was that the aloofness made her feel like she was sitting on a bed of thorns, but that wasn’t the whole story.
The real reason was that, surrounded by such a daunting environment, she instinctively sought somewhere to lean. It was the desperate flailing of a child trying to grab hold of a lifeline inside this vast castle.
Seeing her spirits droop, Taylor gently suggested:
“Why not try approaching the staff yourself? They’re probably avoiding you only because they feel intimidated.”
“……”
Staria, usually never lacking in sociability, was tempted. But there was a problem: she couldn’t speak. Taylor quickly realized the difficulty and asked if she could write.
Well… I can, but……
The script she knew had been taught by her mother, and was one they used only between themselves. She had just begun learning the continent’s common tongue and couldn’t write it yet.
Scratching her cheek in embarrassment, she was relieved when Taylor proposed a solution.
A little later he returned with a stack of cards.
“You mentioned having a friend who once lost his voice, didn’t you? Out of frustration, I created these word cards for him. They’re old, but they should still serve for conversation.”
Thanks to the steward, Staria gained a new skill: communication through cards. Now she could begin her campaign to make friends.
Who should be her first?
She soon spotted Maid No. 3 watering the garden. With a dodo-do, Staria ran up and tugged at her skirt. The maid flinched and backed away, making it clear she didn’t want to get close—but Staria pressed on. This time, she would be the one to approach first. She held up her cards in turn, greeting her:
[ Hello. Good. Morning. ]
“……”
She had hoped to chat a little and get to know each other, but Maid No. 3 abandoned her watering can and hurried away.
Have a nice day!
Staria waved cheerfully after the retreating figure, then finished watering the plants herself before moving on. Each time she met someone, she stopped to talk.
[ Sister. Hair. Soft. Admire. ]
She complimented Maid No. 4’s silky hair,
[ Forehead. Black. Wipe. ]
she cleaned soot from a servant’s brow with her handkerchief,
[ Lost. Belonging. ]
and she returned Maid No. 2’s treasured scissors that she had found.
Of course, there were times when the cards couldn’t keep up with her vocabulary, leaving her at a loss for words.
