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logi1974 · 1 year ago

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Südengland 2023 - Tag 17

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Wir müssen noch etwas an unserem Heritage Pass arbeiten, deshalb steht heute wieder ein Ziel auf unserer Agenda, das im Pass inklusive ist. Micha witzelt schon: am Ende kriegen wir noch Geld raus ...

Heute machen wir uns auf den Weg, um das Castle Carisbrooke zu besuchen. Der normale Eintrittspreis schlägt hier mit 14 £ zu Buche.

Ursprünglich gab es eine römische Burg in Carisbrooke, die als Teil der römischen Bemühungen errichtet wurde, die sächsische Küste vor Überfällen zu schützen.

Nach der normannischen Eroberung errichtete William Fitz Osbern, Earl of Hereford, hier eine neue Burg nach dem traditionellen normannischen Motte- und Bailey-Plan, mit zwei Bailey-Einfriedungen, die zu einem hohen Motte führen, der von einem befestigten Bergfried überragt wird.

Das Schloss ging später an die Familie Redvers über. Es war wahrscheinlich Baldwin de Redvers, Earl of Devon, der die starke Ringmauer errichtete, um die früheren normannischen Verteidigungsanlagen zu verstärken.

Carisbrooke verdankt insbesondere Gräfin Isabella de Fortebus viel. Die verwitwete Gräfin war im 13. Jahrhundert eine der reichsten und mächtigsten Landbesitzerinnen in England, mit Ländereien, die sich von Wight bis Yorkshire erstreckten.

1262 beschloss sie, sich in Carisbrooke niederzulassen. Sie verwandelte die kahle Verteidigungsburg und ließ eine ganze Reihe von Räumen errichten, darunter komfortable Suiten, eine große Halle, private Kammern und die Kapelle St. Peter. Die Kapelle ist jetzt in den Museumsbereich integriert.

Die Familie Redvers hielt die Burg, bis die Linie mit Isabellas Tod im Jahr 1293 ausstarb. Die Burg ging dann auf die Krone über und wurde häufig königlichen Günstlingen zugesprochen. 1377 schlug die Burg eine Invasion der Franzosen zurück, aber in der Tudor-Zeit ging die größte Bedrohung von einer spanischen Invasion aus.

Ab 1597 wurde die Burgverteidigung durch eine Reihe von Bastionen und Erdwällen erweitert, die von einem italienischen Ingenieur namens Gianbelli entworfen wurden.

Die Tudor-Erdwälle umschließen die normannischen Vorburgen vollständig und sind mit Stein verstärkt und mit 5 Bastionen in Form von Pfeilspitzen unterbrochen, um der Bedrohung durch Artilleriefeuer entgegenzuwirken.

Das Schloss ist am bekanntesten für seine Verbindung mit Charles I. (Karl I.). Charles wurde 1647 in Carisbrooke inhaftiert, nachdem seine Armeen im Bürgerkrieg vom Parlament besiegt worden waren. Der König war bequem im Constable's Lodging untergebracht, einem Tudor-Gebäude, das an die mittelalterliche Great Hall angrenzt.

Charles konspirierte jedoch weiter. Zwei aufeinanderfolgende Versuche aus seinem „goldenen Käfig“ zu entkommen, veranlassten seine Gefängniswärter, ihn in viel sichereren und weniger komfortablen Quartieren festzusetzen.

Charles wurde schließlich zur Hinrichtung von Carisbrooke nach London gebracht. Das Schlafgemach des Königs ist ebenso erhalten wie das Fenster, durch das er zu fliehen versuchte.

1896 wurde Prinzessin Beatrice, die jüngste Tochter von Königin Victoria, zur Gouverneurin der Isle of Wight ernannt. Die Prinzessin machte das Schloss nach 1914 zu ihrem Sommerdomizil.

Der Titel des Gouverneurs der Isle of Wight wurde im Jahr 1965 an Prinz Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, weiter vergeben. Die Zeremonie zur Ernennung fand ebenfalls im Carisbrooke Castle statt und wurde von der Queen persönlich durchgeführt.

Leider kamen die Queen und Prinz Philip nicht mehr mit der Kutsche, sondern mit dem Auto. Damit der dicke, dunkelrote Bentley der Monarchin überhaupt bis in den Hof vorfahren konnte, mussten leichte Modifizierungen am Torhaus vorgenommen werden: man entfernte schnell einmal Teile des historischen Eingangs.

Die klassische Ansicht für den Besucher von Carisbrooke Castle ist dieser imposante, dominante, zweitürmige Hauptteil des Torhauses. Dieses begann im 13. Jahrhundert als einfaches Tor, aber 1336 erweiterte Edward III. es, um einen zentralen Durchgang zwischen den Toren mit runden Türmen zu schaffen. Innerhalb des Durchgangs des Torhauses befinden sich Rillen für drei Fallgatter.

Das Torhaus bietet Zugang zur westlichen Vorburg, die an der Stelle des ursprünglichen römischen Kastells steht. Das Torhaus bewies fast sofort seinen Wert und half, die Burg vor der französischen Invasion von 1377 zu verteidigen.

Rechter Hand befindet sich die St.-Nikolaus-Kapelle neben dem Wachhaus. Die Kapelle stammt aus dem 13. Jahrhundert, wurde aber 1899 zum Gedenken an den 250. Todestag Karls I. im Jahr 1649 komplett umgebaut.

Später wurde sie zu einem Denkmal für diejenigen, die im 1. Weltkrieg fielen, darunter Prinzessin Beatrices Sohn Maurice, der 1914 in Ypern starb. Das Ende der Kapelle wird von einer großen Büste von König Karl und einem Denkmal für die toten Soldaten dominiert.

Im ehemaligen Wachhaus (Guardhouse) wird heute den Besuchern ein gut gemachte Informationsfilm zur Historie von Carisbrooke gezeigt.

Hinter der Kapelle liegt der Garten “Princess Beatrice Garden”.

Dieser Garten wurde im edwardianischen Stil gestaltet, um an die Zeit zu erinnern, als Carisbrooke das Sommerhaus von Prinzessin Beatrice, der Tochter von Königin Victoria, war.

Geradeaus liegt die Große Halle. Darin befindet sich heute das Museum (und in den Quartieren des Gouverneurs) mit zahlreichen Objekten zur Geschichte des Schlosses sowie zur lokalen Geschichte der Region.

Einer der Höhepunkte ist eine Nachbildung des Schlafzimmers von Charles I. Zu den weiteren Ausstellungsstücken gehören ein Gemälde von Joseph Mallord William Turner von Carisbrooke, ein mittelalterlicher Krug sowie das Schwert und die Nachtmütze von Charles I. Dies sind nur einige von über 27.000 Objekten, von denen nur einige regelmäßig ausgestellt werden.

Einer der Höhepunkte eines Besuchs in Carisbrooke ist ein Besuch im Wellhouse, wo Wasser aus einem 50 Meter tiefen Brunnen mit einem von Eseln betriebenen Rad geschöpft wird. Das Ding sieht aus, wie ein überdimensionales Hamsterrad in dem die Esel laufen. Das Rad ist durch ein System von Zahnrädern und Rollen mit einem Seil verbunden, das an einem Eimer befestigt ist.

Der Eimer wird in den Brunnen abgesenkt und während der Esel stetig läuft, wird der volle Eimer an die Oberfläche gezogen.

Das heutige Brunnenkopfgebäude wurde in der Tudorzeit errichtet, aber der Brunnen selbst und sein Mechanismus sind bedeutend älter. Es gibt 6 Esel, die, zu Demonstrationszwecken, auf dem Eselsrad abwechselnd eingesetzt werden. Die Vorführungen finden mehrmals täglich, immer zur halben Stunde, statt.

Die Esel sind in einem großen Gebäudekomplex in der westlichen Ecke der Burganlage untergebracht.

Alle Namen der Esel beginnen mit dem Buchstaben „J“, eine Tradition, die bis in die Zeit zurückreicht, als Karl I. hier gefangen war. Charles unterzeichnete Briefe an seine Mitverschwörer mit dem Buchstaben J, und die Tradition begann, die Esel mit demselben Buchstaben zu benennen.

Für die treuen Vierbeiner gibt es sogar einen eigenen Eselsfriedhof.

Daran kommt man auf dem Weg zum Tearoom vorbei.

Der Tearoom bietet kleine Gerichte, Suppen, Kuchen usw. zu erstaunlich moderaten Preisen an.

Dicht an der Nordwestwand des Schlosses befindet sich eine Reihe von Unterkunftsräumen. Dort befindet sich eine Fensterlaibung, die zu Ehren der Gräfin Isabella als “Isabella's Window” bekannt ist.

Dieses Fenster gab einst Licht in die Privatgemächer der Gräfin. Es war mit farbigem Glas verglast – ein seltener Luxus - und in das Fenster waren Steinsitze eingebaut, damit die Gräfin den Blick über ihre Ländereien bis zum Meer genießen konnte.

Hoch oben an der Außenwand befindet sich ein kleines, vergittertes Fenster. 1648 versuchte Karl I., durch dieses Fenster zu entkommen und an einem Seil zu den am Fuß der Burgmauer wartenden Anhängern hinunterzuklettern.

Er hatte zwei Kerkermeister bestochen, damit sie bei seinem Versuch wegschauten. Die Gefängniswärter nahmen sein Geld, benachrichtigten dann aber die Burgbehörden, und der Versuch wurde vereitelt.

Charles hatte zuvor versucht, aus seinem Schlafzimmer zu entkommen, aber dieses Mal hatte er die Lücke zwischen den Fenstergittern falsch eingeschätzt und wurde zwischen ihnen eingekeilt, bis seine Kerkermeister ihn fanden.

Einer der frühesten Teile des Schlosses und immer noch einer der beeindruckendsten: die Muschelfestung. Dieser hohe steinerne Bergfried (oder befestigte Turm) sitzt auf einem hohen konischen Hügel (auch Motte genannt).

Der Bergfried war als letzte, verzweifelte Zuflucht für Verteidiger im Falle eines Angriffs gedacht und wird nur über eine steile Treppe erreicht, die mit dem Wehrgang verbunden ist.

Abgesehen von einer Garderobenkammer gibt es im Bergfried nur sehr wenige intakte Elemente, aber die Belohnung für den Aufstieg auf die Spitze der Motte ist ein wunderbarer Blick über die Burg und das “Bowling Green” im Norden.

Dieses große, ebene Gebiet war Teil der erweiterten Verteidigungsanlagen, die bei der Errichtung der äußeren Bastionen und Erdwälle entstanden. Soldaten nutzten den flachen Platz für Paraden und Exerzitien, aber berühmter wurde er von Karl I. zum Boulespielen, während seiner Gefangenschaft, genutzt.

In dieser Woche finden in allen Burgen und Schlössern des English Heritages spezielle Familientage statt. Anlass dieser Veranstaltungen ist die Coronation, die Krönung, von König Charles.

Es gibt kindgerechte open Air Theateraufführungen bei denen die Kids mitmachen können. Die Eltern sitzen derweil auf der Wiese und picknicken, während die Sprößlinge, ausgestattet mit Krone und Schwert, zusammen mit den Schauspielern historische Ereignisse nachspielen.

Insgesamt waren wir gut 4 Stunden im Castle unterwegs.

Good Night!

Angie, Micha und Mister Bunnybear (Hasenbär)

#Carisbrooke Castle #Carisbrooke #Isle of Wight #Südengland

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kxlinthesky · 1 year ago

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EPISODE 5 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 4-1 English Translation

All was quiet, save the rustling of pages illuminated by soft lamplight.

The book hadn’t been opened in quite some time. The last time someone had touched its spine had been ten... no, closer to twenty years ago, probably. An ancient script lined the faintly yellowed pages.

Violet eyes scanned from left to right, a finger tracing along the letters in time. He mouthed the words as he went, perhaps to help cement the information in his brain, though his whispers were quiet enough that a butterfly’s wings would drown him out. When he finished the last page he nodded to himself, the knowledge fully absorbed, and dropped the book on a nearby table with a thunk and a small puff of dust, joining the tens of other volumes he’d already devoured.

He rose and approached the bookcase in front of him, reaching for the next in line. “‘Freedom from Oppression’...” he read aloud. The eyebrow above his monocle twitched. Another puff of dust rose up as he flicked the cover open. The worm-eaten volume in his hand was a fairly archaic piece of literature, like all the others in the room. He sat back down in the wooden chair once more, already fully absorbed in the reading, unmindful of the clouds of dust swirling around his head and shoulders.

And all fell quiet once more, save the flipping of pages, as Owl read on.

He’d holed himself up in the McCreech library – specifically the old library, tucked in the deepest corner of the furthest building away from the central bergfried. The room’s contents appeared to have been transported wholesale from some lab or library elsewhere, and the whole space was packed to the brim with books lining not just the four shelves along the walls but rows upon rows of free-standing bookshelves as well, with subject matters ranging from alchemy to history to religion. Unlike the private collection in the basement, all of the tomes were in circulation on the market at some point, but many had since gone out-of-print, which naturally made each and every one of them intriguing in Owl’s eyes. He could easily spend years immersed in the texts here, if the situation weren’t what it was.

Unfortunately, the situation was what it was. He couldn’t waste any time dawdling.

Because Ellie had been snatched away by an angel.

He’d first met the mysterious young girl at the Blackpool Auction, back when she was merely a stone statue of a young girl instead of the living, breathing article. No one knew where she came from, including herself – no one knew if “Ellie” was her real name, even. But everyone at the detective agency doted on her, and she’d even started to forge a powerful bond of trust with Owl in particular. The last glimpse he’d gotten of her wide, innocent eyes kept flashing through his brain, and every time it did his heart twisted with agitation.

Owl forcibly tamped the feeling down and returned his attention to his book. He was here in the first place, combing through every single text in the entire library, looking for every scrap of information on angels he could find, so he could get her back.

“‘Alchemy came into being with the gospel granted unto us by winged messengers –’” Owl read the first sentence of the next volume and paused. “... Winged messengers,” he mumbled to himself. Angels, in other words. “This one, too, huh....”

He reached out for one of the other books scattered across the table and pulled it closer, flipping it open. “‘– The first recorded outbreak of the Black Rose Disease occurred in the latter half of the fifth century on Teos Island, decimating the entire hamlet’s population in a single night. The origin of the highly transmissible illness remains unknown to this day, but it is known that it consumed every single person on the island without exception, leaving swaths of bodies in its wake.’” He flipped to another portion. “‘Afterwards, when the disease had started spreading through central Europe, the few remaining survivors of Teos suddenly gained miraculous abilities, using strange techniques to alter energies derived from nature and study the makeup and nature of matter itself, in the first instances of what we now would call transmutation.’”

Owl paused here to grab another document lying nearby.

“‘Throughout history, almost all legends about ‘curses’ find their roots in wars, famines, plagues, and other such tumultuous events of the time.’ ‘The residents of the island were abandoned by Heaven. Having succumbed to the Black Rose Disease and fallen from grace, from human to Demon, they were cast down into the earth. Yet the envoys from above took pity on these helpless souls and said thusly...’”

The heavens, envoys from above... it felt like every volume in this library mentioned angels in some form or another.

“‘Pity,’ huh...” Owl muttered aloud, his head inclining ever so slightly. “Were angels supposed to feel things like pity? They’re supposed to be more... more....” For some reason, the angels described in the texts and the image he had in his head didn’t align at all. Why was that? A burning ache settled deep in his skull, and a groan slipped from his lips as he pinched his brows.

This was nothing new. Owl had no memory prior to living in the orphanage, and whenever he tried to pry those lost memories free he’d come up with nothing. Whatever he’d lost had hidden itself deep in the recesses of his brain behind lock and key. Did this odd sense of unease he had about angels have something to do with his lost memories?

“Damn it all –” Owl clicked his tongue. He could shake his head all he wanted; he wasn’t knocking those memories loose.

A knock came at the door.

“Mr. Owl, would you like something to eat?” Anastasia opened the door and stepped inside, coughing as the dusty atmosphere of the library hit her. The lamp she held aloft clinked in her grasp.

“Thank you, Anastasia,” said Owl. “How was the wedding, did everything go all right?”

“Oh, yes, the ceremony just ended. Everyone in attendance is currently being escorted to the reception hall. Would you like to come as well? We saved you a seat.”

“That’s very kind of you, but no. I want to look through these documents a little more.” Owl tilted his head to the side. “Besides, if I came to the reception with all this dust in my hair, Hannah would lose it.”

Anastasia stared at Owl for a moment... then offered a faint smile and a shrug. “Yes, I could see that,” she admitted, then coughed again in the dead, musty air. “Let’s get some fresh air in here.” She strode across the room, heading for the sliding door on the other side that led out to the balcony, then opened the storm shutters and flipped the latch. As she cracked the slightly rusted door open, a rush of fresh air breezed through the room, sending the dust and debris scattering up and away. Owl took a deep, refreshing breath of the cool night air.

“My father doesn’t often come here himself – the dust in here is just awful. I’ll need to do some cleaning on my next day off.” Anastasia walked back in from the balcony, sucking in a lungful of crisp, clear air herself. More dust billowed out when she shook the curtains, but the outdoor breeze swirled it up and carried it away to disperse in midair. Her eyes briefly flickered up to the moon hanging in the dark sky, and something in her expression dimmed at the sight. However, she shook it off soon enough and turned back to Owl. “That reminds me, does Sir Tristan have any other servants in his employ besides Mr. Ralph and Miss Hannah?”

“What?”

“Whenever Sir Tristan comes to visit, he always brings those two with him, but never anyone else, as far as I’ve seen...” she clarified.

“He does, but not that many,” Owl answered. “There’s a few maids that don’t live in the house, they mostly handle cleaning, and sometimes a gardener comes, but beyond that, Hannah and Ralph handle everything. I think my father already knew going in, but he’s a little particular... no one else but them could pull it off. He doesn’t really accept what’s considered ‘common sense’ by the rest of the nobility, and he orders a ton of food and clothes – the last butler he hired didn’t even last half a day before he ran off.”

“My.... But it’s just as I thought!”

“What is?”

“I always thought those two were amazing. Mr. Ralph and Miss Hannah are so wonderfully competent... they can finish a whole host of chores in the blink of an eye when our servants here could take ages to complete even a single one. They took care of most of the preparations for the reception.” Anastasia trotted closer and lowered her voice. “My father even went so far as to say, ‘We need to steal those two from Tristan somehow.’”

Owl snorted with a lopsided, wry grin. “Please don’t,” he replied, scratching his head. “My father can’t even wrap his own scarf around his neck without them around. He takes forever to wake up in the mornings, and he’s always losing track of important documents, and he’ll try to run away from home in the middle of work to go see his son. But you know, he acts like that, but the man’s fought in several wars; he needs the right sort of people to stop him.”

With Owl all but begging Anastasia to not take the pair away from Tristan, she couldn’t help but return his crooked smile, giving him a decisive nod. “I feel like I understand now. Mr. Ralph and Miss Hannah have a compelling reason to stay where they are. And honestly, they might find themselves bored working here. I would certainly be put out if I found myself without my duties to attend to. We will refrain from poaching them.”

“Thanks,” Owl replied with a dramatic sigh of relief. However, his amusement soon gave way to puzzlement. “Wait, but you’re one of the ladies of the house. Do you really need to be working?”

“Ah, well, truth be told, I’m not all that cut out for being a lady of high society.” Anastasia stuck her tongue out. “I prefer helping my father with his work and tending the garden. Besides, doesn’t it feel better sometimes to stay moving instead of sitting around all day?”

Owl fell silent at that. He could see now the faint haggardness to her face. Losing Ellie had hurt her deeply as well. And no wonder – the two girls had grown incredibly close in just a single day. Anyone would be disheartened after seeing one of their best friends stolen away.

“So I asked Miss Hannah if there was anything I could help her with,” Anastasia continued on. “And she said –”

“‘Go check on the mole buried in the library,’ right?”

“The mole! Mr. Owl, please!” Even with her spirits so low, Anastasia still giggled at Owl’s joke. But of course, this was the same girl who’d managed to keep smiling when her sister had been purposely giving her the coldest of cold shoulders – her will was as strong as they came. “We really did save you a seat at the reception, you know. My sister and Mr. Jack... no, my brother-in-law, now, would love to see you there. And besides that, you went above and beyond the services I paid you to perform. At the very least, you could take a short break and have a proper meal....”

Another rap at the door interrupted her entreaties.

“Owl, do you have a minute?” A lone priest strode in, a purple stole hanging from his shoulders, long silvery hair fluttering behind him. There was a certain noble elegance in his bearing, but there was also a beguiling glimmer in his golden gaze unbecoming of a holy man.

“Hey, Clemens,” Owl greeted. He was one of Owl’s friends, having come to the McCreech estate to officiate the wedding. “Good work today. Sounds like the ceremony went off without a hitch.”

“More or less,” Clemens agreed with a nod. A bitter cast overtook his expression. “But things have gotten a little complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“Ahh, I was careless. Come to the guest room. I need your help.”

“‘Help,’ you say....” Owl’s frown wavered somewhere between confusion and suspicion. Clemens almost never asked for help. He shut his book and rose, following the priest out of the library and toward the guest room. “Did something happen?” he inquired as they hurried along.

Clemens’ shoulders slumped. “I didn’t think she’d follow me here. She was going into town to do some shopping; I thought she’d just go back to the church when she was done.” They arrived at the guest room to find Hannah waiting for them outside the door. She offered them a bow and opened the door for them, seeing them inside.

It was the same room as the other day. A plate of snacks rested atop the small table in the center. Sitting in one of the chairs was Tristan, and by his side stood... a young nun. The second she caught sight of Owl, she started screeching, “Owl! What in the world is going on around here?!”

The detective couldn’t stifle his startled yelp. “Elnora?! Why are you here?”

Sister Elnora stared at him for a moment, her eyebrows shooting off into space. “Why am I... oh, don’t give me that!” she yelled. Her heels clacked against the floor as she surged forward, glaring daggers and jabbing a razor-sharp nail into his chest. “What’s this I hear about Ellie getting kidnapped, huh?!” The woman was near incandescent with rage, more witch than nun.

“Ahh....” Clemens was right, this was going to be complicated. Owl did his best to keep his tone even – anything to keep her from really blowing up on him, even if only for the moment. “Why are you here specifically? In this house, I mean.”

“’Cause I found the most perfect dress for Ellie in town!” Elnora answered. “It was so cute I just had to see her try it on, so I came here, and what do I hear? That someone stole her away?! Where did my precious Ellie go, huh?!”

Elnora must’ve heard from someone around the estate what had happened yesterday and promptly flown into a seething rage. Ironically, her blazing emotions served to cool his own... which actually happened a lot, come to think of it. So under her harsh grilling, all that came out of Owl’s mouth was, “Ellie’s not yours.”

“Owl!” His attitude fanned the flames of anger even higher. Elnora’s hand whipped up, but she managed to stop herself before she actually struck him. Her fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist. “Why aren’t you going after her already?!” she screamed instead, jabbing a finger at the doorway. Even when she paused for breath, the irritated click-clack of her heels filled the silence perfectly well.

“Elnora,” Clemens interjected, “calm down for a minute. Owl wanted to leave right away himself, but we can’t be rash. Our opponent is... an angel.”

“An angel?” Elnora’s face screwed up. “You’ve got to be kidding me...!” It wasn’t necessarily surprising to her, hearing the world “angel” come up in conversation – she was a nun – but it was a little unnatural to see such blatant disgust twisting her features at the term. “And laying hands on my Ellie, of all things!” Unable to contain her ire, she took to pacing circles around the room, teeth digging into her lip and smudging her lipstick.

On any other day, she wouldn’t dare lose her composure like this in front of other people... but circumstances being what they were, her reaction was completely understandable. The girl she’d come to see as her adorable little sister had been snatched away.

When words finally came back to her, she turned the full force of her wrath right back on the detective. “How could you even let this happen, Owl? You were with her the whole time, weren’t you? I didn’t think you were so unreliable!”

Owl had nothing to say in response – he agreed with her, after all. He wordlessly sank into a nearby chair.

“I’ll curse you for the rest of your life if my Ellie doesn’t come back!”

“Again, Ellie isn’t yours.”

Clemens gently pressed his hand on Elnora’s back, urging her to take her seat. She turned her venomous glare on him. “Cute girls are a balm on my soul, so they’re mine,” she declared, crossing her arms.

“I understand that the young ladies of the world are your particular object of worship, but for now, I’d advise you drink some tea and take a breath,” Clemens said.

“You be quiet,” Elnora snapped, chin raising defiantly. “You don’t get to order me around.” Still, when Clemens pulled the chair out for her, she promptly plopped down on it.

“I understand the pain you’re feeling as if it were my own,” Tristan piped up, deliberately calm and soothing. “But please, for now, bear with us. We must proceed with caution. Our opponent is an unknown... a genuine angelic being from Heaven.”

“An ‘angelic being’?” Elnora repeated. Her eyebrows were climbing once more. Disappointment dripped from her every word. “Lord Tristan, I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Are you seriously suggesting that you’re frightened of Heaven, of all things?”

Owl blinked, then squinted at her. “Did you just really say that?”

“What, did I say something funny?”

“You’re a nun. You’re supposed to look up to Heaven.”

“I did, once. But faith didn’t save me. Oh no, not me, not the devout disciple of God who never missed a single prayer in her life, not the pious, faithful Sister Elnora!” The fury in her tone was different now, any last traces of her usual composure long gone. “Oh, sure, Heaven may very well exist, but Heaven won’t offer salvation no matter how hard you pray. No, they just watch from their thrones on high. So I reject them. I’m not with the church now to believe in them or to beg to be saved.”

Owl had never heard her speak with such passion before, and it honestly threw him for a loop. It was clear she had some profound reason for coming to such strong conclusions.

“And besides, an angel kidnapping a little girl?” she continued on wildly. “That’s just absurd. Girls are cute and nice and wonderful, with their fluttery ribbons and sparkly lace... they should be treated like royalty! Taking Ellie from me like this, Heaven hasn’t saved me – no, it’s cast me into the pits of despair! So what I’m going to do is renounce them from the inside, and if they can’t forgive me for that, then let them strike me down where I stand!”

And Elnora thrust her hands skyward, inviting the ire of Heaven itself. She held that pose for a moment. Nothing happened.

“See?” She lowered her arms again with a sniff and a mirthless smile. “Heaven won’t lift a finger. They won’t save anyone. They won’t even smite me.” If she felt any guilt or hesitance over her heresy, she certainly didn’t show it.

“So you’re going to be a single cell, eating them away from the inside out,” Owl mumbled to himself. “That’s terrifying.”

Clemens took the seat next to him. “Elnora’s phrasing might be a little intense, but I agree with her. Ellie is my precious student. If Mastema’s harmed even a single hair on her head, I will never forgive him, even if he is a true angel from Heaven.” His bitter scowl mirrored Elnora’s.

“Are you quitting being a priest, then?”

“Priests aren’t monoliths, either. I have my own circumstances.”

“You do?”

“I do, though perhaps ‘fetters’ might be a better term, or even ‘fate’... ahh, this is all so maddening.”

“What are you talking about,” Owl said flatly. Clemens’ sudden theatrics eased some of the tension in the room.

Someone knocked at the door. Everyone’s attention swiveled that way as Anastasia walked in wheeling a wagon lined with plates of covered food. “I apologize for interruption your conversation,” she said, “but would anyone care for a meal? You’ll be needing your strength if you’re going to save Miss Ellie, and you won’t fight well on an empty stomach. I brought this from the reception hall, so please, dig in.” She reached out to lift the cloches from the plates.

“... Cute.”

“Eh –?”

Some of Elnora’s fiery wrath dissipated as she stood and strode up to Anastasia, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Elnora. You would be Anastasia, correct? You made friends with Ellie.” She held her hand out.

“Oh, um, yes. Nice to meet you, too.” Anastasia took her hand, her eyes sparkling with awe. The sudden appearance of such a beautiful nun momentarily threw her off balance.

“It sounds like you all went through a lot,” Elnora went on. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“N-No, I’m perfectly fine.... It’s just Miss Ellie who....” Anastasia sadly lowered her gaze.

The last of Elnora’s ire cooled; she was clearly deeply moved by the girl’s words. “Ahh, you’re such a sweet girl. It’ll be fine, don’t you worry. Ellie will come back soon.”

“She’s my client, Elnora, and a daughter of the McCreech family. Don’t be rude,” Owl warned, exasperated. The “don’t make a pass at her” went unspoken but hopefully not unheard.

“That’s right!” Elnora exclaimed. “You’re the gallant girl who braved the city alone to consult a detective agency all to save your dearest older sister! Kind and courageous! You’re amazing!”

“Wah!”

Apparently Owl’s unspoken warning had gone unheard, because Elnora immediately scooped Anastasia up in a tight hug, squishing the younger girl’s face into her chest. “But next time you need advice, you can come to the church, okay? I’ll take care of anything you need.”

“O-Okay?... Um?” Anastasia went bright red at the seductive nun’s sweet words – it was all rather stimulating for a sheltered young girl. And it wasn’t just Elnora, either; she’d had a similar reaction the first time she’d met Clemens. She had to wonder, were all holy men and women in the city this alluring...?

“I always thought Clemens was bad for Ellie’s education, but you kind of are, too, huh,” Owl remarked unthinkingly.

Elnora pursed her lips, shooting a glare in his direction. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Owl? Are you saying I’m like that womanizer?”

“Is that what it sounded like to you?”

“Rude! I just admire cute girls, like flowers. It’s a balm on my poor heart. Not like you would know, you don’t feel a thing looking at flowers. Besides, I....”

“Well, you coming here was unexpected, Elnora, but it’s good that you did. I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you! Just so we’re clear, I’m still furious! If you think you can just change the subject on me like that you’ve got another thing coming!”

“There’s a man here I want you to meet. I want you to get some information out of him.”

“Hey, no one gets to order me around, least of all you.” Elnora turned her nose up, blatantly refusing to discuss whatever he was talking about.

Until Owl said, “What if I told you it would have something to do with the angel who took Ellie?”

Elnora paused, her interest piqued. “... Come again?”

“The man I want you to meet, he’s the one who invited the angel in.”

All emotion drained from Elnora’s face in the blink of an eye. Cold, unfeeling eyes turned on Owl. “And you’re saying that despicable man is here?” she spat, the words seething and roiling like a volcano in the depths of the ocean.

“Yeah, he’s the older brother of the McCreech family head. He killed the last head and tried to kill the current head and the eldest daughter so he could be the heir.”

“Eldest daughter... you mean....”

“Eliza, the bride, yeah. And there’s a good chance he would’ve gone after Anastasia, too, given the blood relation, even though he’s their uncle.”

Elnora’s entire body shuddered with renewed rage. She clutched Anastasia even tighter to her chest. “His own niece? He was going to hurt such a lovely girl...?”

“He was. He’s locked up in the tower right now. Ralph’s keeping an eye on him, so there’s no chance of his escaping, but I want to get everything I need out of him before the police take him away. That’s where you come in. Can you do it?”

Elnora’s eyes slowly fluttered shut. When they finally opened again, they seemed to bloom all at once like a vast, resplendent flower. She smiled. “Don’t be so cold, Owl,” she said. “When have I ever turned down one of your requests? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“... Thanks, Elnora. For being so compassionate.”

Clemens watched their back and forth the whole time from the sidelines like it was the most engrossing comedy of his life. His shoulders were quaking with repressed laughter.

Elnora finally let go of Anastasia, only to instantly grab her by the hands instead. “May I go speak with your uncle?” she murmured gently.

“Oh, um, yes.... He’s not someone I can really call ‘uncle’ anymore, so do as you please.”

“I see. I’ll do just that, then.” Elnora tittered, her chest puffing up. CLACK went her heels against the floor. “Could I ask you to bring me a riding crop? And a gag would be nice, too, if you can.” She fluttered her eyelashes, stunningly beautiful and stunningly brutal all at once, as she snapped her wrist like she was holding something. The others could almost hear the crack of an invisible whip.

■■■■■■■■■■

It wasn’t long before Ralph came to call the group down. “Preparations are complete,” he announced.

“Did you find any good reference materials?” asked Tristan, watching Owl stuff several books into his bag.

“Maybe a few... they all said the same things, more or less.”

“I see. That’s good.”

Owl squinted at him. It was blatantly obvious he had something to say. “Besides, any noteworthy documents would have either already been moved to you mansion or are already in your head, right?” He tapped the side of his head for emphasis.

Tristan simply stared at Owl meaningfully.

Owl glared right back, suspicious confirmed. “I guess I’ll have to examine all the books in the mansion next time I come, then. And the safe in the locked back room!”

He sounded rather threatening – like a child who’d caught their parent sneaking a piece of cake – but Tristan simply smiled and patted him on the back. “I’ll be glad to see you show your face around home,” he said sincerely.

The group left the McCreech mansion and headed for the carriage waiting for them outside the gates to find someone already there – Jack, the groom who was by all accounts supposed to still be at the reception. He seemed to be helping Hannah pack their luggage.

Owl jogged up to them as soon as he saw them. “Jack, the reception isn’t over yet, is it?”

“It’s fine. Eliza’s the real star of the show anyway, not me,” Jack replied with a grin. He gripped Owl’s hand tight. “She wanted to see you off, too. And I... I still haven’t properly thanked you yet.” His clear, piercing gaze focused squarely on the detective. “Thank you, Owl, for giving us the chance to have our wedding. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me... or Eliza, or the entire McCreech family, for that matter.”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing what I could.”

“As your friend, I pray for you and your sister’s safety.”

“Thank you.... but I owe you an apology. I lied. Ellie isn’t really my sister... I’m just looking after her because of some... odd circumstances.”

“Really?” Jack hummed. “But you seemed to have such a wonderful relationship – she can still be your little sister, right? If it’d make everyone happier that way....”

“... Jack.”

“I want to help you, too, like you helped me. I’m your friend and ally, from now until the end of time. So promise me we’ll see each other again.” And Jack pulled a white glove from his breast pocket and slipped it into Owl’s jacket.

“Jack, this is your –”

“Yes, this is my very precious glove that Eliza – that my wife hand-sewed for me. You hold onto it until the next time we meet. Got it?”

“But –”

“Please.” Jack placed his palm on Owl’s chest with a soft smile. “I think it might protect you.”

Owl’s breath hitched in his throat for a split second. “Thank you,” he eventually replied. “I don’t swear on or pray to God, so it’ll be your thoughts and prayers that keep me alive.”

“Not just mine. Eliza and Nashy are both thinking of you, too. Everyone here adores you.” Jack tugged Owl in for a brief hug. “I wish I’d met you sooner. I would’ve asked you to be my best man.” He let go and patted Owl on the back.

“I would’ve been honored.” Owl returned the pat on the back, then withdrew to climb into the carriage. It was a four-horse four-seater, with Clemens and Tristan already seated when he clambered in. He took a seat next to the latter as Ralph, who’d been standing by outside, also boarded and shut the door behind him. Owl turned to the window and waved at Jack. “But if you had,” he continued, “you probably would’ve regretted meeting me so soon.”

“Huh?”

“About me being best man. I can’t tell a joke to save my life, so I’m glad I didn’t get the chance to bring the mood down at something so important as your reception,” Owl joked.

Jack blinked, then laughed. “Is that so?”

The coachman lashed his whip. The wheels of the carriage rattled against the pavement as it picked up speed and sped off down the hill, Jack watching from the gates until it disappeared from view.

“It seems you’ve made a wonderful friend,” commented Clemens, watching Jack shrink from view through the window.

Owl scratched the back of his neck. “... This might be bad,” he muttered.

“What would?”

“It’d probably hurt if I break my promise with him.” Owl’s shoulders drooped as he placed his palm over his breast pocket, where Jack’s “feelings” laid carefully tucked away.

Clemens smiled at the sight. It seemed Owl could sense the real weight of what he’d just been given, even slightly. “This is a good sign,” he murmured. “Perhaps it’ll start hurting you to fall behind on your rent soon, too, hm?”

“I’m not behind. He just waits for months or I get caught up in my experiments, that’s all.”

“I see...?” Clemens turned to Tristan. “Sir, do you hear what your son is saying?”

But Tristan simply smiled back. “Oh, Owl does love his experiments.”

Is it really all right for a father to say such a thing...? The question caught in his throat and died before Clemens could speak it aloud, along with something else. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me,” he coughed.

As the priest lightly pounded at his chest, Ralph glanced over. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, just a full stomach. I have a little... indigestion, you might say.”

“Full stomach?”

“Elnora forced me to drink before we left.” Clemens let out a long sigh. His fingers lightly traced the corners of his mouth. “She can be a little spicy when she’s angry.”

Owl didn’t even want to know what that was supposed to mean, so he didn’t ask. He turned his gaze down to the floor where his bag rested by his feet and reached down to pull one of the books inside out, but he suddenly paused halfway, as if he’d remembered something. His head tilted back up. “Hey, Clemens.”

“Hm?”

“You said before that you could ‘sense the presence of angels,’ right? You didn’t really explain that last night – what was up with that?”

“What do you mean? It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Does that mean you’ve had contact with angels in the past?”

Clemens immediately fell silent. He clearly felt he’d said something he shouldn’t have by the way his gaze wavered. “... I suppose you could say that,” he eventually responded. “At the time I didn’t know they were angels, but certain enemies I fought long ago had a similar presence about them.”

“Enemies? What do you...?”

“To tell that story... I’d need to ask for a fair bit of your time. Ahh, if only the angels I’d encountered back then were fair maidens, I could have charmed them in an instant with just a few words....” Clemens drifted off-topic, chattering on about how much time it’d take to tell the stories he recalled that weren’t romantic. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, so Owl decided to give up for the time being. Instead, he snarked, “I don’t think there’s an angel in Heaven who would appear before a womanizing priest. Unless they were going to deliver divine punishment, maybe.”

“Oh, my, you know it’s not a good idea to judge someone too hastily. There may be one, you know. Someone who would want to be friends... someone lonely... who can cook... and is stylish to boot. Surely there’s at least one angel who’d fit the bill?”

Well, the priest certainly seemed to have someone in mind. “Clemens, you’re a priest. You have to know that angels are messengers from Heaven with giant wings on their backs, don’t you? They’re not downtown girls you can charm with your good looks and golden voice.”

“Naturally. But at least downtown girls can be given simple, understandable blessings, don’t you think?”

Owl grimaced. “... I feel like I should tell Jack to get another priest to redo his wedding ceremony.” He reached into his bag again and pulled the book out, opening it and balancing it on his knees.

“Are you still looking into something?” Clemens asked curiously.

“Of course I am,” Owl shot back. “This whole time I’d been conducting research on the Black Rose Disease and Demons, but angels are an unknown element. I’m lacking information and knowledge. I want to keep searching – every little bit helps.”

“You haven’t slept since yesterday, though. Couldn’t you at least take a break while we’re traveling?”

“I can’t believe you’d say something so lazy.” Owl’s gaze slid down to the book. “Now leave me alone for a bit.”

Just then, Tristan piped up, his voice a low murmur. “Speaking of, the McCreeches have a hymn that talks about angels.”

“Huh?” Owl glanced up again, brows furrowed.

“It was in the songbook they passed around during the wedding.” Tristan waved his finger like a baton and began to sing:

“The sun, it sets

Lands cloaked in fog of death

And blossoms black as night, they smile

Salvation’s light, it overflows

The hearth of God becomes our door

And down come winged folk from on high

“The sun, it ascends

And the winged folk, upon us they present

A wonderful new creation

Almighty strength granted by the boon

Blesses us and heals all wounds

Power fostered in us through our patrons

“The life we shape and mold by our own hands

Shall grant aid to Heaven by their grace

The thoughts and prayers we offer unto them

Shall grant strength to Heaven by their grace”

“The lyrics went something like that, though I’m not the best at reading sheet music, so the melody might be off. After everything that happened, the bride and groom declined to sing. The ‘winged folk’ are almost certainly angels, and the hymn was written to praise them. It’s possible....”

“... What’s possible?”

Tristan, in lieu of a response, slammed the butt of his cane into the floor of the carriage. His golden chessboard twinkled to life around them.

Owl realized what was going on with a small exclamation... but alas, a second too late.

“That it’s a lullaby, Owl.”

“!!”

A tiny priest popped into existence on the chessboard. “Healing Bishop,” Tristan intoned with a snap of his fingers. The tiny priest turned to Owl and began to wave its staff.

“Tristan!” Owl shouted. “Stop!”

... is what he tried to say, but in a single second his consciousness fled him completely, leaving him to slump in his seat, dead to the world.

“Whoops – there we go.” Tristan caught Owl before he banged his head against the wall and pulled the sleeping boy toward him, leaning him carefully against his shoulder. With a pleased little smile, he murmured, “You’ve gotten rather heavy, haven’t you....”

“Impressively done.” Clemens clapped. Tristan hadn’t wasted a single movement getting things done. Ralph pulled a blanket from who-knows-where and spread it over the unconscious detective.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

#kotonoha project #best girl elnora AND best boy jack? we are SPOILED

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