Sugar Apple Fairytale Vol 3 Prologue

Prologue
If sugar-craftsmen had a holy place, it would probably be the Silver Westhall Castle.
That castle, being a pinnacle for sugar-craftsmen, was the castle given to the SilverSugar
Viscount―a graceful structure with white ramparts and spires, overlooking a
forest and a lake. It was proof that the King of the Kingdom of Highland has recognized
the Silver-Sugar Viscount's right and authority. To become a sugar-craftsman, and then
the Silver-Sugar Viscount was one of the greatest dreams a commoner could have.
The Silver-Sugar Viscount at the time, Hugh Mercury, was the most admired achiever
among the commoners. At a young age, he lost both his parents; according to rumors,
he spent his childhood grouping with orphans of similar circ.u.mstances, stealing
repeatedly while living on the streets. By some turn of events, he became a sugarcraftsman's
apprentice, then a craftsman, and then a Silver-Sugar Master. Furthermore,
he was adopted into the founding family of the Mercury guild, acquiring the Mercury
name. And finally, he even became the Silver-Sugar Viscount.
"At this rate, the events of twenty years ago will be repeated. This proposition is meant
to prevent that," declared the Silver-Sugar Viscount, Hugh Mercury, and slowly rose to
his feet.
His unruly tea-colored hair was brusquely slicked back, and he wore a simple overcoat.
Though he had the t.i.tle of a n.o.ble, he wasn't one by birth; and for that reason, he lacked
the elegance peculiar to n.o.bility. However, there was rough sharpness and strength to
his gaze. It gave off just the right intimidation for stabilizing the atmosphere of the
place.
The place was a room in Silver Westhall Castle's castle tower―a cozy room, meant for
holding family messes. At the centered table sat the heads and deputies of the three 
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sugar-craftsmen factions:
Deputy of the Mercury Guild, John Killeen.
Deputy of the Paige Guild, Elliot Collins.
Head of the Radcliffe Guild, Marcus Radcliffe.
While looking at the three in order, Hugh grinned.
"Well, at least not until we've discussed it, for the sake of the factions' reputation.
Though I have no intention of taking 'no' for an answer."
With that, John Killeen's nervous-looking slender face changed into an expression that
indicated true amazement. While repositioning the monocle on his left eye, he turned
to face Hugh.
"I, for one, approve. However, Viscount, I wish you'd at least consult me beforehand.
As I am your deputy."
Hugh was also the head of the Mercury Guild. However, as doing his work as the SilverSugar
Viscount concurrently was difficult, he had John Killeen as his deputy.
"Whether I consult with you or not, you wouldn't go against me. You’ve already
approved."
John shrugged at having the decision made for him.
"Ah, same here. No objections. It looks like our guild would be troubled, too."
Elliot Collins smiled frivolously and lightly raised his hand. Glen Paige, the original
head, has been bed-ridden due to illness for a long time. Having been recognized as the
next head-to-be, he was to serve as the representative. He had short red hair, jumping
in all directions; with droopy eyes that gave the impression of always smiling. He was a 
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cheerful-looking young man.
"I have no objections either. But, Silver-Sugar Viscount…"
The last to open his mouth, was Marcus Radcliffe. Hugh, as well as John and Elliot,
were all more or less somewhere between their twenties and early thirties. But Marcus
was in his fifties. Perhaps because of that, his presence felt like it was weighing down
on the place.
"Who will manage that? Surely it's not something the Silver-Sugar Viscount can do
alone."
"That's a given. It'll be entrusted to some faction."
"Then, we will undertake it." Replied Marcus immediately.
John made a displeased expression. However, Elliot clapped his hands in praise.
"Splendid, Mr. Radcliffe! Ah, incidentally, we really can't do it. We're not big enough
for casting a kingdom-wide dragnet and all."
"You really have zero willingness to do anything, don't you?"
John glared at him, but Elliot didn't break his cheerful smile.
"Well, it's the truth, you know. Feel free to duke it out between the two of you."
John turned to Marcus.
"I would also like our guild to undertake it, too, Sir Radcliffe."
"Planning on using the Silver-Sugar Viscount's authority to monopolize important
tasks, huh?"
"The Silver-Sugar Viscount is irrelevant. It's fundamental that he treats all factions 
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fairly. As I believe this is an important job for gathering sugar-craftsmen, I was only
volunteering as a single faction."
Seeing John and Marcus glaring at each other, Hugh smiled wryly.
"Well then, let's make it fair. How about we draw lots?"
Late that summer, when even the faint pink sunset had dispersed into darkness, each
faction leader and representative left Silver Westhall Castle. Having returned to his
room, Hugh opened the dust outlet window leading to the balcony, laid down on a sofa,
and closed his eyes. The lace curtain hanging over the dust outlet window swayed,
touching the tips of his boots.
"Viscount, the night wind is cold, you'll get sick. I've brought tea,” said Salim, and closed
the window.
When he heard his voice, Hugh opened his eyes.
"You brought tea? What about Lucy?"
"You're in a bad mood. She didn't want to go, so she told me to take it and go in her
stead."
"Oh. Her special ability was reading moods, wasn't it?"
Lucy, the labour fairy that was waiting for Hugh-who was as naggy as a mother-in-lawwas
a small woman of peculiar strength. It seemed even Salim would often be
overworked by her.
Hugh sat up and gazed at Salim's hands as he placed a single set of tea ware on the table,
deftly pouring the tea. Clouds of steam were rising.
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"The cause of your bad mood; is it the Radcliffe Guild?" Salim asked suddenly. "The
Radcliffe Guild ended up undertaking that job, didn’t they?"
"What makes you think that's what put me in bad mood? I'm the one who proposed
drawing lots. Naturally, I took into consideration the possibility of the Radcliffe Guild
drawing the winning lot."
"But, you wanted the Mercury Guild to do it, didn't you? Especially with her in mind.
However, you couldn't do that. The Silver-Sugar Viscount is required to be impartial
towards all the factions."
While accepting the cup handed to him, Hugh raised his eyebrows.
"Her?"
"Ann."
With his lips still on the cup, Hugh's movement stopped.
"Having the Radcliffe Guild entrusted with this job will give that girl, who has some
sort of quarrel with the faction there, much trouble. If you're careless, you may not even
be able to inform her."
"Well, probably so. But it can't be helped. Ann chose hardship with her own will,” said
Hugh, and took a sip of the tea.
Gazing at him, Salim asked indifferently,
"Why did you return Shall's wing? You could've torn it without Ann's knowledge and
disposed of him. If you did, Ann would have had no choice but to rely on you. That
way, it might have even been a better path for her."
Hugh returned the cup to the table, and smiled with a snort.
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"I thought about it. But by doing that, I felt something inside Ann would break. That
scared me."
Hearing that, the always expressionless Salim showed an unusually surprised expression.
"Hey, hey. What's with that face? Did I say something worth getting so stunned over?"
"Yes. This is the first time I heard you use the word 'scared'."
//END OF PROLOGUE.