3 bar menu

The Golden Butterfly – Part 06

---

Translator: Kell

---

The inspector turned to Kazuya. He didn’t want to talk to his sister any longer. Like he always did, he started talking to Kazuya instead.

“While I was arguing with the village chief about how to deal with Derek, he said something strange. ‘This is not the Kingdom of Sauville. This is not a village.’ And then he proudly declared, ”This is the Kingdom of Saillune, and I am the king.'”

The inspector shrugged. “Just because you live deep in the mountains, you can’t just call your village a nation and give it a name. This land is within Sauville territory. What a bunch of weirdos.” Noticing Ambrose’s gaze, he added, “My apologies.”

Victorique breathed a deep sigh. “I see. I get it now.”

All eyes turned to her. Wearily, she brushed her long, golden hair, then narrowed her eyes a little and glanced at Kazuya, who was sitting next to her.

“Kujou, do you remember what I told you about the special race of people?”

“Ah, yeah.” Kazuya nodded. “You mentioned Greek gods, Norse giants, and Chinese heavenly beings…”

“Yes. While I was reading those books, I learned that there are many historical accounts—mostly ancient—that talk about god-like people.” She sighed. “Long ago, there were forest folks that ruled the lands of Eastern Europe. Legends about them still remain to this day. The Baltic Sea coast was exposed to countless invaders, but the forest people always came out victorious. They had neither height nor physical strength, but their extraordinary intelligence allowed them to defeat the foreign invaders. They defeated the Khazars in the ninth century, the Pechenegs in the tenth to eleventh centuries, and the Polovets in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century, they also defeated the Mongols. Many of their enemies were large horsemen who attacked from the plains. They enjoyed a period of prosperity, but after the fifteenth century, they disappeared without a trace. Not because of war. One day, they suddenly vanished from history. Where did they go?”

The carriage was quiet.

“They were called the Saillune people.”

“Ah!” Ambrose gasped. “I don’t know much about history, but in our village, kids are taught that we’re the people of Saillune. That the village was in fact, a kingdom, and we were not in Sauville. But we’re not allowed to mention it. We were forbidden to speak the name either, because we’d be persecuted and burned to death.”

“Indeed, they were a persecuted people.” Victorique said, nodding. “What comes to mind when you think of the fifteenth century? It was the time of the Inquisition and witch hunts. The petite, clever, and enigmatic Saillune people were caught in the wave and labeled heretics. Shortly after, they could no longer sustain their small kingdom on the Baltic Sea coast. They were driven out, not by war, but by persecution. Legends of the Gray Wolves spread rapidly in Sauville after the fifteenth century. Legends about silent, talking wolves dwelling deep in the forests, and smart kids being called spawns of Gray Wolves. I believe the legends were born from the fact that the Saillune people fled deep into the mountains of Sauville and lived there in seclusion. The reason why they were called Gray Wolves may be because of the wolves that used to live in abundance in the forests of Eastern Europe, their former home. However, after fleeing to Sauville, their settlement was burned to the ground whenever they were found, forcing them to move further into the forest. Eventually, their numbers dwindled, and only tradition and an old village remained. I believe that is the true nature of that village.”

“Do you guys remember the festival?” Victorique continued in a low voice. “The battle between the Summer Army and the Winter Army. It was a ritual to pray for a good harvest, and there are similar customs all over Europe. But why did only the Winter Army ride horses? I offer a hypothesis. It may be because throughout their history, all their enemies rode in horsebacks. The ritual was intended to drive both winter and the large horsemen, who attacked season after season, back from the fertile forests to the dry plains.”

The carriage rumbled down the mountain, rocking hard. Victorique’s face brightened and dimmed repeatedly under the lamplight. No one said anything.

“Either way, that was a long time ago,” Victorique said in her husky voice. “We are living in the present moment. In the now.”

The carriage shook, presumably from running over a rock or a large root. The lamp briefly illuminated Ambrose’s face.

“The present?” he muttered.

Victorique nodded.

“I see… In that case, I can live on.”

He seemed to smile faintly, but it was too dark to see.

Mildred yawned loudly. “All this difficult stuff is beyond me. As long as you’re healthy and have money, you’re good. What I would give for a lot more money, though!”

Ambrose chuckled. Kazuya smiled as well. Mildred yawned again and closed her eyes wearily.

The carriage continued lumbering down the mountain, the horses’ hooves clopping on the winding road.

Victorique gave a small yawn.

“Tired? Do you wanna sleep?”

She nodded silently, then whispered, “Sing for me, Kujou.”

“Me? Sing?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Fine…” Kazuya sighed.

Then, in a hushed tone, he began humming his signature nursery rhyme. As he sang, he thought he heard Victorique laugh.

“Wh-What?” he asked.

“You suck.”

“Back at you.”

Victorique continued chuckling.

The carriage still had a long way to go.

---

It was deep into the night when they finally arrived at the town at the foot of the mountain. The group decided to stay at the only inn available and leave the next morning. When the innkeeper saw Ambrose’s golden hair, feminine features, and medieval attire, he looked horrified.

“A Gray Wolf…!”

But the fear from his face gradually faded as Ambrose, not caring about his remark, bombarded him with questions—questions about running an inn, how the phone worked, the dead bird hanging on the front door. In fact, he got fed up with the young man.

“Stop asking me questions! What are you, five?!” He then stormed off somewhere.

It was a beautiful day the next morning. They boarded a train down the mountain, then switched to a different train, before finally arriving back at their village, where St. Marguerite Academy was located, around noon.

Mildred had put on her stuffy habit over her summer dress and headed back to the church. “Ah, back to a boring life,” she had grumbled. But when she closed her mouth, her crimson, curly hair tucked inside her robe, her face tightened slightly, she looked just like a normal nun. She left with loud footsteps.

Inspector Blois hailed a carriage and took Derek to the police station.

“Return to the academy for now,” he said, looking out the window. “I will contact the academy for further instructions.”

His grim tone made Kazuya uneasy, but right now he had no idea what was going to happen in the future.

The carriage carrying Inspector Blois and Derek lumbered away. Mildred was no longer in sight.

Everyone returned to the place where they belonged.

The journey had ended.

As they walked out of the station onto the village’s main street, a pleasant, early summer breeze blew. Many people milled about on the main street. The stores lining the street were busy, customers coming and going frequently.

A horse-drawn carriage passed by, and on the other side, a state-of-the-art automobile zipped past, rattling.

Ambrose observed the streets curiously. “So this is the present…” He started walking somewhere, his face a mixture of anxiety and delight. Kazuya and Victorique watched him go.

A gentle breeze whistled, carrying the sweet smell of fruit and warm earth from the vineyards. In the distant train station came the whistling of the oncoming train.

Everything was as it was supposed to be.

Ambrose came running back, suddenly remembering something. He grabbed Kazuya and whispered in his ear.

“I almost forgot to tell you something about the divination,” the young man said.

“You mean the one at the festival?”

“Yes. You and your friend…”

“Me and Victorique?”

“Yes.”

Ambrose shook his head. “Why did you two ask the same question?”

“The same… question?” Kazuya looked puzzled.

Back then, Victorique came out of the cathedral, looking upset, tears in her eyes.

He thought she must have been told something very shocking. She said she asked if she would grow taller.

Same question? I didn’t ask about my height.

Kazuya ruminated on it for a while. When he finally realized the truth, his breath caught.

It’s the other way around! Victorique asked the same thing I did. It wasn’t about her height at all…

She asked if she and Kazuya Kujou would be together forever.

And the answer she received was the same as Kazuya’s.

That’s why she was on the verge of tears.

“I just thought that if you two had asked different questions, I’d hear two different futures. But I guess she really wanted to know.” With that, he wandered off casually.

Kazuya returned to stand next to Victorique. As he stared at her face, Victorique grimaced.

“What are you looking at?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Then stop staring at me.

“Why, I oughta…”

His forgotten rage resurfaced.

Victorique really pissed him off. She was smart, had a sharp tongue, and was such a handful. He strongly believed that there was something wrong with her, not him. She always made fun of him, worked him like a slave, and then treated him like a nuisance. And then…

And then…

I’m glad we made it back safely.

Kazuya watched Ambrose receding into the distance.

When he first met the young man in the nameless village, he looked like the typical resident, with his old-fashioned clothes and polite attitude. Only the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his spirited side. But now, as Ambrose walked down the modern main street, his hands in his pockets, whistling and walking slowly, he quickly integrated with the surroundings, becoming part of the scene on the main street. His clothes, too, looked less strange, now, as his demeanor changed. A village girl passing Ambrose turned and stared at him intently in admiration. When he noticed, he gave a cordial nod, a little embarrassed.

He had adapted very quickly.

A warm breeze blew, and his long, silky blonde hair hanging behind him stirred. When the wind died down, Ambrose was already gone. He must have taken a turn somewhere.

“What’s he gonna do now?” Kazuya murmured worriedly.

Victorique was silent for a while. Her eyes were filled with a curious light—a yearning of some sorts. She seemed to envy Ambrose’s freedom, but she did not say anything. She only answered Kazuya’s question curtly.

“He will live on. Just like Cordelia Gallo.”

And thus, their journey came to an end.

---

---