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The Black Bishop Prays – Part 01

One bright and cold winter morning, Saint Marguerite Academy.

Pristine white snow had fallen overnight, blanketing everything—the front of the U-shaped school building filled with boisterous students in various costumes, the deserted pathways—turning the entire landscape into a magnificent world of silver.

The contrast of the iron benches’ black and the snow’s white created a mesmerizing marble-like pattern crafted by nature itself. Now and then, snow cascaded from the tree branches, subtly altering the intricate design.

The gazebos revealed no signs of the squirrels, who had likely already entered their deep winter slumber. Yet, mischievously scattered about were perfectly rounded snowballs, resembling empty shells left behind by the playful rodents.

Somewhere within St. Marguerite Academy came the faint, mournful howl of a Gray Wolf, a legendary creature originating from the enigmatic mountains of Eastern Europe, concealing within its small frame a formidable intellect and infinite potential.

Snow plopped down from the branches, slightly reshaping the pattern upon the iron bench.

“Hnh… ungh…”

“Oh dear. She won’t stop crying. Hmm?”

Nestled in a corner of the academy, with its vast campus transformed into French-style gardens, stood a sturdy boys’ dormitory crafted from oak.

On the first floor was a black-and-white-tiled kitchen, furnished by a massive wooden table and filled with an array of cooking utensils, and in the corner was an old wooden chair—lacking not only a backrest but also on the brink of disrepair, recently prone to wobbling—where a small girl was perched.

Her striking golden hair, cascading like a loose turban, brushed against the floor. Adorning her head was a regal crown of small crimson roses, no more than a dozen in number. Her vibrant red satin dress, billowing from her slim waist to her slender ankles, emulated a grand rose blooming.

Her dainty feet quivered beneath the layers of lace covering her delicate shoes. With plump palms concealing her face, the little girl sobbed inconsolably.

“Ungh… Hnnh…”

“Did someone pick on you? Is that it? Kids… I swear to God.”

Beside her stood Sophie, the dorm mother of the boys’ dormitory, both hands on her hips, head tilted curiously. Her fiery red hair was casually tied back, and beneath her apron, her ample chest bounced.

A black horse headpiece was perched on her head, tied under her chin with a string. Its left eye was closed, giving the impression of a playful wink. Adding to the whimsy, its mouth was curved into a mischievous expression, with its tongue sticking out in a playful manner. It was unclear whether she had drawn it herself, but there was a certain resemblance in atmosphere between the black horse and Sophie.

In her comical attire, she casually tapped the small head of Victorique, Europe’s most powerful intellect, who held the future of Sauville in her hands. Startled, Victorique’s frail shoulders trembled, and her crying momentarily ceased.

“Oh.” Sophie cast her gaze down at Victorique.

“…Hnnnhhh!”

“Aw, I thought you stopped crying! So close! Oh, well. Hey, young lady. I don’t know what happened this morning, but why are you dressed so light, without a coat, and running out of the school building crying? Luckily, I managed to grab you. You don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Ugh…”

“Care for some orange cake? You do? Perfect! I’ll bake one for you. We have the human chess tournament all day anyway, so the students won’t require much attention. The teachers will have a tough time, though. I wonder how Cecile’s doing.”

Sophie promptly took out eggs from the massive fridge and cracked them into a wooden bowl, vigorously whisking them. She melted butter in a double boiler, peeled oranges, preparing all sorts of ingredients for the cake.

“Cecile and I got an earful from the principal earlier. While she was falling on her butt, I managed to escape. Hope she’s okay.” Sophie shot a curious glance at the whimpering Victorique. “Oh, well.” She resumed whisking the eggs.

A flock of birds flew past the window. Clumps of snow thudded on the ground. Sunlight bathed the silver landscape in an even brighter glow.

---

“Ouch! That hurts, Teach!”

The rear door of the school building opened, and a petite asian boy—Kazuya Kujou—rolled out. He stumbled forward, his voice rising in protest, and when he saw the person following him slip on the snow, he swiftly extended a helping hand to prevent the impending fall.

His jet-black hair framed a face adorned with quiet eyes of the same deep hue. Clad in the uniform of St. Marguerite Academy, his tie meticulously fastened and shirt buttons neatly aligned, Kazuya exuded an air of gentleness.

Supported by the young boy, a petite woman shuffled out, her fluffy brown hair cascading down to her shoulders. She possessed droopy brown eyes obscured by a pair of large, round spectacles.

Just moments before, she had worn a peculiar papier-mache upon her head, its droopy eyes mirroring her own. However, she had incurred the wrath of the school’s principal and chairman, resulting in a stern reprimand and subsequent confiscation.

In its stead, she had managed to acquire a bishop’s costume. Swathed in billowing black fabric, she raised her palm upward and struck a pose reminiscent of an Eastern sage, but she stepped on the long hem and almost tumbled.

“W-Watch out!”

“I got chewed out… *sniff*… Only me…”

“That doesn’t justify kicking my leg. It doesn’t make any sense. Besides, teachers should be role models for students… Ouch!”

“An unknown woman was surrounded by students and taken away somewhere. Sophie stepped on me and ran away, so I was the only one taken to the principal’s office. And then the principal said mean things…”

“He wasn’t mean. He was being perfectly reasonable. Ouch!”

“My horse… they took my horse…”

Kazuya tried to retort with something as sensible as the principal’s, but he shut his mouth. He walked beside the dejected Ms. Cecile. She seemed so down.

“Um…” Kazuya uttered hesitantly.

“What is it, Kujou?”

“I might be overstepping it, but I think the outfit looks good on you.”

“Oh, really?!” She brightened up a little.

But no sooner did Kazuya feel relieved than she smiled and kicked his leg again.

“Ouch! Why do you keep kicking my leg?! I firmly object this tyranny!”

“I’m feeling a lot better.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“All right, Kujou! Let’s go to Sophie and take that detestable black horse!”

“Wh-Why? I don’t get it. Why would you do that?”

“We stayed up all night making it together. We’ve always been close friends, so we planned to play knights again this year. We were laughing while drawing the faces. And now, my horse got confiscated by the principal…”

“That doesn’t seem to make any sense.”

“Kujou, let me teach you something important in life.”

Ms. Cecile, striding confidently along the snowy path, abruptly halted. She placed her index finger at the rim of her round glasses, assuming a stern countenance befitting a true educator.

“The key to a meaningful friendship lies in both parties maintaining a delicate balance. It’s a give-and-take scenario, an eye for an eye!”

“Wh-What are you saying? That’s absolutely incorrect, not to mention far from educational. Ahh, Ms. Cecile, please don’t pull so hard! You’re hurting my arm!”

“We shall launch an assault on the boys’ dormitory this instant! Yeah!”

“Absolutely not! I refuse to take part in such a scheme… Besides, I…”

Kazuya found himself being dragged along, his feet racing in helpless pursuit. He turned his head and cast a regretful gaze into the distance.

There lay the white French-style garden, glistening under the winter sun. Beyond the sprawling grounds, his eyes were drawn to a cold and gray stone tower that had stood as a shrine of knowledge since medieval times.

The library tower.

Atop its uppermost floor was a verdant conservatory, a sanctuary of lush greenery. Kazuya could picture his cherished friend, Victorique, engrossed in her books scattered across the floor, indulging in sweet treats. He wanted to see her. His chest tightened with a brief pang of longing, reminding him of his own insignificance, that he was but an ephemeral creature adrift in the vast cosmos.

They saw each other every day, yet he couldn’t help but wish to see her face today too.

What does this mean? I don’t really get it… Ouch!

Kazuya stumbled forward, his arm stretched to its limits as Ms. Cecile pulled him towards the boys’ dormitory.