The lingering scent of summer and the autumn farewell of the New Grain Festival

This story contains depictions of cruelty and expressions that may be traumatic for some readers.

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The journey from the Frontier County of Marl to the Imperial Capital was not without difficulty...

We were attacked three times by bandits, delaying our return far beyond our schedule.

Though we were called bandits, the time required to deliver them to the Guild after they were slain by Lord Colloid caused us little harm.

We returned to our lodgings with barely enough time to spare, a strange mix of loneliness and relief in our hearts.

I wrote and sent a letter apologizing for both having returned safely to my family home and for not having been able to return at all. I had informed them, as I was away for so long, that I would be returning by autumn.

Though there was no special reply, my vacation had ended. Yet the brilliance of this summer remains strong within my heart, a quiet strength.

With the start of the new term, as always, the new students arrive with fresh innocence, and the absence of upperclassmen brings a certain melancholy.

My student life has changed little since before summer break—perhaps only more so in the way I am disliked by the younger students.

Especially the new students keep their distance, their glances sharp with aversion.

My elder sister remains unchanged; even the smallest of my remarks is met with great alarm, and I am the one who must be guided.

Still, it is a matter that can be settled through my own endurance. I dedicate myself silently to the tasks and duties assigned to me, living each day in quiet perseverance. For I have those who have promised me a future without equal, and dear friends who care for me deeply.

To live thus, student life inevitably grows busy, and soon the vacation for the New Year’s Harvest Festival arrives.

On the night of the deep autumn moon, the ritual honoring that year’s harvest spreads across the nation, and now it is celebrated as a grand festival, observed with great ceremony over three days and three nights, centered upon the full moon.

I have decided to return home for this holiday after a long absence. I had thought to ride once more upon my beloved horse, Luna, and venture forth on a long journey. It was on the first day of the week preceding the New Year’s Harvest Festival that I sent a letter to the stablehand, requesting arrangements, and notified them of my return.

The following weekend, I was at the imperial capital’s Emmental estate. Yet shortly after arrival, I was summoned, and now I am in Mother’s study.

It was a long discourse, but in summary, the matter was simple.

That Stella-sama’s social conduct should be improved somewhat.

That her academic performance should be raised.

That she should be introduced to high-ranking noble ladies and matrons after her coming of age.

That was the gist. Then came Mother’s dissatisfaction with my absence during summer, and a detailed account of how wonderfully I had spent the summer at the Emmental estate.

Mother’s reprimands lasted from morning until near noon.

Though weary, I hesitated between going to the stables or taking midday meal, but since breakfast had not yet been served, I turned toward the dining hall.

Upon entering, I found a plump middle-aged woman in servant’s garb alone in the room, preparing lunch.

"Yaya, it's been ages! I know lunch isn’t quite ready yet, but is there something simple I could have? Just a bite, perhaps?"

I addressed the woman. Yaya, the plump middle-aged servant who had long managed the kitchen and dining hall, greeted me with a warm smile.

"Ah, my dear Spica! In the time since we last met, you’ve grown even more beautiful—though I do wonder if you’ve grown a touch thinner? Are you eating properly at the academy? Just this morning, Stella-sama asked me to make plenty of sandwiches, so if you’d like, I’ll have one ready at once. Today’s weather is splendid, after all—Fret-sama and I are off for a picnic. I’ll bring your sandwich right away. Please wait at your seat."

I was so taken aback by the rapid-fire speech that I nearly doubted whether he had even paused to breathe—but the familiar cadence stirred a quiet nostalgia, and I found myself sitting at my seat as if prompted.

“Have the two of them already left?”

I asked Yaya, mouth full of the sandwich he had brought. He replied as he poured warm tea, the citrus scent of it rising in a refreshing wave. A smile came to my lips without effort.

“Immediately after breakfast, they departed. Apparently, Miss Stella asked Master Fret to ride a unicorn she saw in the stables—said it was quite beautiful.”

I thought I heard Lala’s voice, faint and distant, murmuring, “How lovely.” The aroma of freshly brewed tea lingered somewhere beyond focus. A cold unease settled in my chest.

Beasts of demonic origin are generally temperamental and difficult by nature. Among them, the unicorn is especially renowned as a rare and demanding mount, requiring particular conditions to tame.

If my memory serves me rightly, there are three unicorns housed here, and one of them—Luna, my beloved steed—belongs to me.

I finished my meal, praying silently that Luna had not caught the eye of my elder sister, and hurried toward the stables.

Upon arrival, I immediately made for Luna’s stall… but it was empty, stripped bare. From the state of the hay and water, she had been gone for some time.

Two other unicorns were grazing in the adjacent stalls. If one was taken, it must have been Luna.

Is my elder sister safe…?

Unicorns are also known as the Maiden's Steed, refusing to allow anyone but a pure maiden to ride them. That aspect gives me no concern, but their nature is the true issue.

Unicorns are exceedingly obedient, devoted, and tender in disposition. Once they have chosen a master, they will hear nothing but that master’s voice. They deeply resent anyone else being placed upon their back without their master’s command.

Though rarely, they may change masters—usually when sold to a buyer, presented to a noble of higher rank, or following the death of their master. Yet even in such cases, if forced to change, most unicorns will refuse, and in the worst cases, they have been known to take their own lives, so proud are they.

And Luna—she recognized me as her master the very moment she was born. So how is it that, without my command, she now bears my elder sister upon her back…?

I had originally planned to ride Luna today, so no doubt my tack was on her. I looked through the stall, but my saddle and armor were not there. I had left her waiting, and in doing so, betrayed her unintentionally—my beloved steed, and I could not bear the shame.

Staring blankly at the empty stable, I was quietly addressed from behind.

“Miss Spica, you’ve returned. Miss Stella has not come back yet.”

The voice was soft, slightly high-pitched—the caretaker, Monica, who tends to Luna.

“Monica, did my elder sister take Luna?”

“Huh? Wait… wasn’t this trip to hand over Luna to Miss Stella, to change her master?”

I shook my head slowly, silently.

Monica’s face paled instantly, and she began flustered, at a loss.

“I thought it was your intention, so I prepared the horse for the journey… I arrived at the appointed time, and it was Miss Stella who came, along with Fret Younger, and they both said such things….”

It was my fault that I did not come today as promised. I understand Monica’s situation—she was told by Miss Stella and Fret Elder to ready the horse. Yet Monica also bears fault for not confirming with me.

When I heard the details, this morning, Miss Stella and Elder Brother arrived together, as instructed in the letter.

They had already seen my armor and saddle placed upon Luna.

“Why, Spica, you’ve prepared this for me! How touching! I wonder if this horse will recognize me as its master?” she said.

Elder Brother replied, “Of course it will be fine. Stella is our sister, after all,” and then instructed them to bring Luna forth.

Though she had thought it odd, Monica had asked whether it would be all right, since the horse had already chosen its master, but was told there was no issue.

“So I assumed Lady Spica was aware, and brought forth Luna… It was my oversight.”

I could not reprimand Monica further as she bowed deeply. Luna had been taught to heed Monica’s instructions, and so she obeyed. Luna was a clever child, after all.

Besides, Fret Elder, who had an exceptional skill in handling horses, was accompanying her—there could be no trouble, I told myself.

Instead, I asked Thymus to saddle the horse.

Thymus, now retired from active service, lived in quiet repose at Emmental’s stables.

Though only about fifteen years old, she had grown terribly weak after giving birth to a foal, an impossibility for a spirit horse, a bond that should never have been formed.

Spirit horses are strange in that when two spirit horses of the same kind give birth, the offspring is naturally of the same species. But when a spirit horse breeds with an ordinary horse, the result is always a spirit horse. If the spirit horse is female, there is no issue. However, if the spirit horse is male, the burden upon the ordinary mare is too great, shortening her life. Incidentally, when two spirit horses of different species breed, the offspring has an equal chance of being either species.

Temis, too, was no exception. After giving birth to Luna, her recovery was exceedingly slow. I had to replace my beloved steed.

She could no longer endure long campaigns like a warhorse, but I was told she could still manage a distant ride as far as the capital's outskirts. I set out on the journey as planned.

To be safe, I requested two escorts—one an older man and one a younger woman. They would serve as my guardians.

Temis, who had not carried me in some time, seemed unusually delighted, lifting my spirits as if drifting lightly on the wind.

It was past noon, the sun still high, and though autumn had arrived, the warmth was strong enough to make me sweat. The breeze felt wonderfully refreshing, bringing with it a sense of openness I had not known in a long while. I felt a small pang of loneliness, not having ridden with Luna, but I reminded myself that it was better this way—Temis had carried me, and that was enough.

I thought, as we circled the imperial city walls on our way back, how pleasant it might be next time to invite my elder sister to ride together, a mother and daughter on horseback.

Only two hours had passed, and Luna’s stable still stood empty. I regretted not having seen her today, and resolved to make amends for my absence, placing a single bunch of apples and a cluster of tart grapes into her feed trough.

These are treats Temis also enjoys, so I bought them on the way home from the market. I couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it was when Temis could not wait and ate them right there on the spot.

Having returned to the manor ahead of Lady and Fret Elder, I wiped the sweat from my brow and settled into the family library for a long-overdue reading.

As the hour approached when light would be needed, the quiet library door swung open with a sudden, heavy sound.

Beyond the open portal stood Fret Elder.

Though I could already sense his agitation from the way he thrust the door open, the air around him—his expression, the tension in his frame—spoke plainly of anger.

“Fret Elder, what has happened?”

I closed the book I had been reading and hurried to his side.

Fret Elder’s eyes burned with deep anger, and the commanding presence honed by military training made his stance seem to shake the very ground beneath him. I stood before him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“Why did you not reprimand that worthless horse sooner! Because of you, Stella fell and was injured—do you not see!?”

A sudden roar of fury struck me. The phrase that caught my attention was “Stella’s fall.” A horse’s back reaches the height of a man. To a woman or child, it would be even higher—far above their own stature. To fall from such a height would not be surprising, given the severity of the injury.

“A fall? Is Elder Sister unharmed?!”

I asked in haste, and Fret Elder’s rage eased slightly. “Ah… only a grazed wound,” he replied.

I exhaled in relief, murmuring, “Thank goodness,” as I smoothed a hand across my chest, and he cast me a look of mild surprise.

“You didn’t deliberately send the unicorn marked for the Master, I take it.”

“Of course not. I hadn’t even heard that Elder Sister was to ride Luna today… I’m glad she’s unharmed, but was Luna safe?”

“She refused to let Stella mount at all, so we had her ride with me in the saddle. After we reached the destination, we made Stella ride Luna for practice—she reared and threw her off. Then she charged straight into the pond. It was quite a mess.”

My elder brother spoke with a sigh, as if resigned.

I understood at once—the commotion must have delayed our return.

“Luna is unharmed, isn’t she?”

I asked again.

“Listen! Even if it’s just a scratch, your sister was injured. You care more for your horse than for your sister? Don’t worry—tomorrow you’ll see her. Give thanks to Stella’s kindness and mercy.”

Elder Brother spoke sharply, casting me a glance as he turned away and left the archive.

I had not been unmindful of my elder sister, yet it seemed I had been misunderstood.

The haze in my heart, which should have cleared after my long-awaited ride, now twisted around me once more.

Unable to focus on reading, I too left the archive.

Heading straight for the dining hall, I found my sister gesturing animatedly as she recounted today’s events to the family.

She noticed me the moment I entered and smiled. “Ah, Spica. You’re here.”

“Elder Sister, I heard you were injured today. Are you well? I was deeply concerned—when I learned it was my horse that caused it, I could not bear the thought.”

“Yes, I’m quite well! It wasn’t such a high fall—I only landed on my backside.”

My elder sister said this, then turned gracefully, her skirts flaring like a whirlwind. Despite having fallen from her horse, she seemed remarkably cheerful.

“I am relieved to hear it,” I replied honestly, taking my seat.

Once seated, the conversation turned to the arrangements for tomorrow’s New Harvest Festival.

The festival’s distribution refers to the offerings of gratitude for a bountiful harvest, presented by regional lords to their people. In practice, on this day, the household staff receive gifts of wine and fruit from the noble family—essentially a kind of material bonus.

Each year, I arrange for dried lychee fruits. They are nourishing and also used in traditional medicine, so their reputation remains excellent.

Other gifts are also arranged—wheat and wine from Father, dried fruits from Mother, and each year different offerings from the Elder Brothers. It is important that they do not overlap.

Since it is the New Harvest Festival, our household focuses on food, but some families also distribute materials from slain monsters and cloth.

Perhaps this was the outcome of her intention to provide the people, heading toward winter, with as good a winter preparation as possible.

Father—slowly

The New Year's Harvest Festival tomorrow will be the first since Stella returned to our home. Therefore, it is said that Stella has prepared a special ceremony.

You say so.

Mother tilts her head and says, “Ah? Was it not to be melon this year?”

A melon, like a quince, is a fruit that can be eaten or used as a perfume due to its pleasant scent. It is preserved well and highly valued during the winter months, when entertainment is scarce, and is commonly offered at gatherings. Yet my elder sister shook her head.

“I have obtained something far better. I wish to serve that instead!”

She turned a most kind smile upon me.

“Especially for Spica—I truly wish you to taste it! It is quite extraordinary!”

I returned her smile with a quiet, “Yes, I look forward to it, Elder Sister. Thank you for your kindness,” and she seemed deeply satisfied.

Mother murmured, “Ah, how well you two have grown close,” and leaned gently against Father.

My elder brothers smiled as well, and for the first time in ages, our evening meal felt truly joyful.

—The next day—

From morning, our household bustled with preparations for the New Rice Festival, the servants moving with hurried steps.

Today, we would bake bread from the first wheat of autumn, newly arrived from the domain. And in the afternoon, all work—master and servant alike—would cease, as we gave thanks for the year’s blessings in celebration. Thus, the household was in earnest. I had heard, when I was young, that “if tasks remain unfinished here, one cannot fully enjoy the feast that follows.”

I have not yet tasted wine, so I cannot say exactly what joy there is in such a feast. Yet I remained quiet, not to disturb the eager spirits around me.

The arrangements for the serving, confirmed by Riko herself, were already made—directly from the merchant house, under my own name, with entry granted to the kitchen.

As twilight approached, I made my way to the banquet hall wearing one of the garments I had purchased during the summer holiday—my usual servants’ attire replaced by something more personal. The household staff, usually dressed in their formal, unchanging robes, now moved about in garments of their own choosing, each enjoying the New Year’s Festival in their own way. Some remained within the manor, others ventured into the town, and still others spent the day with family. Yet each year, on the first day, it was my custom to gather with the household in the open banquet hall of the estate.

That was when the cooks, each striving to outdo the last, prepared their finest dishes—offered to us with no regard for manners, so we might revel in unbridled joy. Such moments, when I shared a meal with those who rarely sat at table with me, were rare indeed.

Looking about, I saw my Elder Brothers already among the guests.

From the lowest servants to the head steward, all moved with a different ease, clinking cups in celebration. Without thought, a plate of food was passed into my hands.

The exotic fruits from Grandfather, beautifully sliced, lay upon the bread baked this morning. The shellfish offered by Cain Elder had been marinated with the vinegar provided by Alex Elder. The dried fruits presented by Mother were steeped in generous honey, glowing like jewels. Fret Elder’s offering, it was said, had been spices this year, a fine accent for the stew. My own figs were kneaded into the cake known as kék sákré.

After a while, I received a plate, said to be from Stella Elder.

A bruschetta topped with a delicate, peach-hued meat tartare. The meat, finely minced, bore thin slices of red and fat marbled like a rose—beautiful in form, with basil scattered as accents, two small portions placed precisely atop.

I brought the dish to my lips, offering silent thanks for this year’s harvest.

The refined meat was tender yet firm, delivering a rich, exquisite flavor—neither the gaminess of beef nor the mildness of chicken, but something entirely new, deeply delicious. Yet I could not guess what kind of meat it was.

All around me, guests murmured, trying to identify the source of such unparalleled taste, their curiosity nearly turning into a scramble.

By the time I had finished the bruschetta on my plate, I caught sight of my elder sister approaching.

My elder sister approaches, waving at me with a smile that suggests deep delight.

“Spica! Are you enjoying yourself? Even noble ladies like you can take joy in the harvest festival! I’m so pleased.”

“Yes, the New Year’s Offering Festival is always a special occasion. I’m truly glad you’re enjoying it as well. And thank you for the gift you bestowed upon me just now. I’ve never tasted meat so exquisite—it surprised me. Thank you for the meal.”

She lifts her lips even higher at my words. Why? It’s not warmth, not quite. A chill, like dread, settles in my chest.

“Good! I prepared it especially for you, so I’m glad you enjoyed it! Luna must be thrilled to be part of your flesh and blood.”

In the hush of the gathering, only the sound of my plate shattering against the floor remained, as if the world had stilled around me.

Wait…

My lady…

She…

What did she just say…?

My lady continued, unbothered.

“Why, are you all right? You dropped your plate. After I fell from my horse yesterday, that child insisted on plunging into the pond rather than let me ride her. So I’ve had today’s feast prepared in her honor—offered as a sacrifice! Unicorn meat is rare, scarcely found in markets, and said to carry healing power. Isn’t that remarkable? Besides the meat, there are other parts that can be used, so once processed, those will be served as well. Oh, and the horn—I’ve already made arrangements to keep it for myself!”

She laughed, innocent and bright.

What… did I just hear?

I heard the answer.

But I do not wish to understand.

I do not wish to digest its meaning.

And yet, even as I thought it, my body reacted the moment I grasped the meaning of my elder sister’s words—violent nausea seized me.

My stomach convulsed; I could not suppress the solid matter I had swallowed moments before, forcing its way back up my throat… I collapsed there, retching uncontrollably…

“Kyaa—!!”

I heard my elder sister’s cry nearby, but I had no breath for anything but this.

The sickness showed no sign of easing, relentless in its demand to expel every last thing from my stomach. My body trembled, shuddering through wave after wave of vomiting.

Someone pressed their hand between my shoulder blades, but I could not stop—my body shook, and I continued to expel bitter fluid, thick with the taste of blood…

In the fog of my fading awareness, I heard the distant murmur of family gathering, drawn by the commotion.

“Stella, are you alright? What happened?!”

“Good heavens, Spica—what in the world! Someone clean this up and fetch a healer at once!”

I was quickly led to the wall, and I knew at once that the floor, stained and ruined, was being cleaned by several servants.

I took the glass of water offered, but could not swallow it and expelled it again. This time, however, it was not sudden as before, so I was given a bucket and spared the humiliation of a spectacle such as the one earlier.

Thankfully, today’s celebration was for family only. If this had been a gathering of the social elite, I would never have dared show my face in public again after such a disgrace…

As my mind began to wander, seeking escape in such thoughts, my ragged breathing gradually settled.

Perhaps waiting for this, Father asked us what had happened.

“What on earth occurred? Poison? Or an illness? Anyone—tell me.”

It was my elder sister who answered, clutching her skirts tightly, her face on the verge of tears.

It was my fault, Father… I thought I was doing right, but it has turned against me… The meat I served today was the meat of the animal Spica cherished… I believed it would be a proper offering, a chance to honor the creature that had passed… but it was not accepted… I could not keep it down…

Commoners rarely taste meat, so when a livestock dies in the village, we distribute it among the households as a form of offering—just as we do here… I thought it would be the same… I heard Fret Elder speak of such things during wartime…

Fret Elder, close beside his elder sister, affirms with a nod.

Ah, yesterday that wretched horse fell into the pond after throwing Stella off, and then died. Stella said she wanted to prepare a feast in its honor, as a form of offering. I thought it a good idea. I’ve heard during wartime that horses that die are eaten and offered to the spirits—common practice among commoners, I’ve been told. After all, the meat we eat every day originally came from livestock slaughtered, so what difference does it make? And yet she vomited… Does that mean she’s lost even the compassion to honor a dead creature, Spica?

My elder brother stares at me, as if to belittle me…

Indeed, every piece of meat or fish I’ve ever eaten once lived…

To say I love my horse but reject the rest is merely ego, is it not?

Fret, that is rather blunt of you. Normally, we receive meat only from animals with whom we have no connection. Even in offering, it is usual to bear a spiritual burden when consuming the flesh of something close to us. Much less so this child, who is neither a soldier nor merely an ordinary girl…

Mother gently reprimands Fret Elder, yet sends me a concerned glance… yet continues, “But…”

It is no small feat to behave like a unicorn through one’s actions. It is regrettable that the unicorn has passed, but since everyone is enjoying themselves thus, Spica must not let her spirits fall. Dead things do not return, do they?

Had I known in advance, I might have found time to grieve, to mourn, to offer prayers for the departed.

Must I be rebuked for having no heart, when I have not even had time to prepare myself, not even a moment’s warning?

I still cannot truly feel the loss of that child...

I gave up trying to find words and staggered away from the hall.

Only when I noticed someone had been supporting my back all the way to the exit did I realize it was Fret. I offered my thanks, but she looked deeply worried, murmuring, "Please do not push yourself too far—this is too much."

Since I had already burdened her with the celebration, I sent Fret back to the hall.

Honestly, I simply long to be alone right now…

She must have understood, for she looked back at me several times before returning inside.

Tomorrow is the full moon.

Guided only by the pale moonlight slipping through the heavy clouds above, I walked alone to the stable at the edge of the estate.

The familiar stalls, quiet and empty as if untouched by the feast, remained just as they were—empty.

Only the straw bedding is neatly arranged, yet there is no sign of her beloved horse.

Peering into the feeding trough, I find the apple and grape cluster I placed there yesterday still untouched—

I realize, with a quiet certainty, that I have wandered into the small shed beside the gardeners’ hut, a place I rarely visit.

Even without frequent entry, I know its purpose.

It serves not only for treating livestock but also for butchering game taken in the hunt.

If my guess is correct…

then the modest wooden door opens smoothly at my touch.

Inside, the scene unfolds as expected—

no, perhaps even more orderly than I imagined.

Yet still, my face must have twisted into something strained.

The organs—red-black hearts and the like—packed in jars were more vivid than those seen in a bestiary, their bones still bearing fragments of flesh, white and raw. Across the entire front wall, pure white fur had been stripped and affixed to boards. On the desk lay the head of a beloved horse, its horns severed, its eyes removed.

They had been dissected—sorted, prepared as materials from a creature once sacred. Even without eyes, the skull between the labeled jars was unmistakably Luna’s.

I made no sound, yet I clutched that head to my chest.

I held the remains of my beloved horse, the one I had known since birth, swallowing my sobs as I murmured only penitence.

If I had come without fail, at the appointed hour, this might not have happened.

Perhaps this child, whose saddle I had fastened, passed away feeling betrayed by me.

I could not convey how deeply I cherished this child before they left me…

I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I loved you, Luna… I’m sorry…

I cannot remember how long I wept there.

I do not recall how I returned to my chamber.

When I became aware, I lay in a familiar yet unfamiliar parlor.

Not in my soiled dress, but in clean nightclothes—someone must have helped me.

There was no scent of blood, as there had been when I held Luna.

And from that day forward, I became unable to accept any flesh at all…