In the stone-walled manor of Count Piast, Yolenta is nothing but a quiet servant girl who dusts the library and keeps her head down. But every night, she slips away to a hidden attic and does the one thing forbidden to women of her station: she watches the stars.
Three years ago, she discovered a discrepancy between the Church-sanctioned star chart and the actual night sky—a tiny, relentless deviation that shouldn't exist. Armed only with her mother's forbidden Star Language dictionary, a windo
Orb: The Star Inheritor - Ciphers and Prayers—The Path My Mother's Dictionary Points To, Toward the Snowbound Inquisition Hall
The snow had stopped.
The sky was still dark. At the eastern edge, the faintest hint of blue-gray was beginning to seep in. On the roof of the observation hut, the accumulated snow slid off with a soft, heavy slither.
Yolenta sat on the hut's floor, staring at the star-language dictionary on her knees. Her mother's keepsake. The worn leather cover gleamed dark from years of handling, its corners frayed. On the open page, rows of numbers ran in her mother's handwriting—hastily scrawled.
(This isn't just arithmetic.)
Her heart pounded, heavy and slow. The footprints she and Okuji had found in the snow last night. The certainty that Vilfrid had hidden the notebook in a sewing box. Piece by piece, they connected with these rows of numbers in her mind, slowly clicking into place.
"Okuji."
Yolenta called out to Okuji, who sat in the corner of the hut with his back against the wall, eyes closed.
Okuji stirred his near-black dark brown hair and cracked his eyes open. His amber eyes glinted faintly in the gloom, catching the starlight.
"...What."
"I'm going to save Badeni. Right now."
Her voice was low, and it did not tremble.
Okuji stared at her face for a while. Then he let out a small breath.
"...What can I do? I'm useless. Back then, I couldn't do a thing."
His voice still carried the thick, suffocating helplessness of that snowy night—the way he'd crouched there, unable to move.
"I need your eyes."
She looked straight back into his.
"Your eyes can see the stars far more accurately than my calculations ever could. And you found those footprints in the snow—clear as day. Your eyes are the only ones that can see through Vilfrid's lie."
Okuji's throat moved in a slow swallow.
"...That man's footprints are still in the snow. Deep. Heavy. His coat weighs him down. And partway along, he stopped. He set something on the ground. Hid it. ...The shape—it was a box. A small box, like a sewing box."
He spoke slowly, recalling what he'd seen on the snow the night before.
"That's it. Vilfrid hid the notebook in a sewing box. Okuji—your eyes have already found the truth. So please. Lend me your eyes."
At her words, Okuji clenched his fist tight.
"...Fine. Let's go. I can't let you go alone."
He stood.
The two of them left the observation hut.
Snow blanketed everything in a soundless white. Each step crunched—saku, saku—against the hard-packed surface. The cold air stabbed sharp and deep into their lungs.
"The tracks are still there. That way. Heading toward the back of the Silver Star, the pilgrim's inn."
Okuji traced the snow's surface with his amber eyes, as though reading it.
Yolenta glanced at his profile.
(This man really can see footprints even in the snow at night.)
It made her feel a little braver.
They followed the tracks south of Piastville, along the highway, to the rear of the pilgrim's inn called the Silver Star. Behind the inn stood a small woodpile and an old well. Something was buried beneath the piled snow.
"There. I can see the corner of a box under the snow."
Okuji pointed.
Yolenta dropped to her knees in the snow and began digging with both hands, desperately. Her fingertips turned red, then went numb. Still, she didn't stop.
At last, a small wooden box emerged from beneath the snow.
It was a sewing box.
With trembling hands, Yolenta opened the lid.
Inside lay Badeni's research notebook. Dark brown leather cover. And beneath it, a folded bundle of old papers.
"...This is—"
She lifted the papers out gently.
They were fragments of star charts and a thick sheaf of calculation sheets covered in dense numbers. And the handwriting—
"...It's my mother's."
Her voice cracked.
The same handwriting as the scrawled notes in her mother's keepsake dictionary. The same quirks in the numbers. The same color of ink.
"These are your mother's...?"
"...Yes. There's no mistake. This is my mother's writing—her method for proving heliocentrism."
Tears spilled from Yolenta's eyes, plopping one after another.
Hot tears traced down her cold cheeks and fell onto the snow.
(My mother was chasing the truth of the stars, too.)
(Alone. Unable to tell anyone. All that time.)
Yolenta clutched her mother's calculation sheets to her chest.
"...Now I understand. The rows of numbers in my mother's dictionary—they were a cipher. You match the numbers on these calculation sheets with the page numbers in the dictionary. And they become letters. ...My mother left me a message."
She opened her mother's dictionary there in the snow.
The rows of numbers written in the page margins. She cross-referenced them with the numbers on the calculation sheets.
"...'The notebook is in the sewing box'... 'The proof of innocence is the key of sequences'..."
Yolenta decoded the cipher.
Her mother had left it for her.
As if she had known Yolenta would come here.
No—that wasn't it.
Her mother had believed that Yolenta would pursue the truth of the stars.
"...Mother, thank you. I found it. Just like you wanted."
She murmured the words.
Okuji crouched down beside her without a word.
"...Let's go. To the Star-Reading Tower. You're going to see Father Fernando, aren't you."
"...Yes. Please."
The two of them hurried along the snowy road toward the Star-Reading Tower.
The tower loomed on the hill north of Piastville, a black silhouette against the sky.
Father Fernando was in a small waiting room on the tower's ground floor.
A small old man with graying hair combed back and a long white beard. His pale blue-gray eyes rested quietly on Yolenta and Okuji.
"...Quite the commotion before dawn. You're both covered in snow."
His voice was unhurried and low.
"Father Fernando. I have a request. Badeni has been taken to the Inquisition. I want to prove his innocence. Please—lend us your help."
Yolenta bowed deeply.
After a long silence, Father Fernando let out a slow sigh.
"...I've heard about Badeni. That man was my student, you know. Even back at the Star Academy, his talent was extraordinary. ...But when he was suspected of heresy, I couldn't do anything. No—I chose not to. I cut ties with him. ...I was afraid."
His voice trembled.
"In my youth, I was a skilled stargazer. ...But one night, I noticed it. The star charts and the actual positions of the stars were off—just slightly. ...I nearly started thinking about what that discrepancy meant, and... I grew terrified. I stopped thinking any further. I closed my eyes. ...You two are different. You fight with your eyes wide open."
He looked Yolenta straight in the eye.
"...Keep your eyes open. Mine can barely see anymore. ...I'll guide you. There's a back way into the Inquisition Hall. A path no one else knows—but I do."
He rose to his feet.
The three of them slipped out behind the tower onto a narrow, snow-buried trail.
The path was dark and cramped, branches heavy with snow pressing in from both sides.
"...This path—long ago, stargazing apprentices used it to sneak down into town at night. ...Now only I know it."
Holding Yolenta's hand, Father Fernando moved along the snowy path slowly but surely.
Before long, through the trees, the stone building of the Inquisition's Piast branch came into view.
The Inquisition stood quietly at the eastern edge of Piastville, off the highway, nestled among the trees. A single-story stone structure with few windows. At the entrance stood two guards in black coats bearing silver star insignias.
"...There it is. The interrogation room is at the back of the building. The waiting room is just before it. ...I'll distract the guards. While I do, the two of you slip into the waiting room."
He told them where the back entrance was.
"...Father Fernando, thank you. Truly."
She gripped his wrinkled hand tight.
"...It's nothing. I think I can finally open my eyes, too."
He smiled, just slightly.
Father Fernando walked toward the front entrance.
The guards noticed him and called out.
In that moment, Yolenta and Okuji slipped through the back entrance into the Inquisition Hall.
The waiting room was dim, the air damp and stale.
A silver star insignia hung on the wall.
From beyond the heavy wooden door at the far end, a low male voice carried through.
"...Badeni Albright. You defied the ban on the laws of the stars, researched heliocentrism, and created and possessed writings that serve as evidence of it. ...There is no mistake."
A cold, emotionless voice.
Yolenta's heart clenched as though being crushed.
(Badeni is in there.)
She pressed herself against the wall of the waiting room.
Okuji crouched beside her, holding his breath.
"...You think I know something."
Badeni's voice.
That arrogant, declarative voice.
"Your research notebook has been submitted as evidence. ...You're not so foolish that you can't grasp what that means."
"...And your proof that the notebook is actually mine?"
"The handwriting analysis is complete. ...It matches your handwriting from before your demotion, from your time at the Star Academy."
"...I see. Then there's no point in saying anything more, is there."
Resignation crept into Badeni's voice.
(No. Badeni, don't give up.)
Yolenta clutched her mother's calculation sheets tight.
At that moment, the door of the waiting room opened.
A tall man in a black coat entered.
The Inquisitor.
Novak.
Novak walked slowly toward the interrogation room.
Yolenta caught a glimpse of his profile.
A carefree, listless expression.
But his eyes were sharp and cold—like a beast hunting prey.
(This is Novak.)
A chill ran down Yolenta's spine.
Just as Novak reached for the interrogation room door—
Yolenta burst out.
"Wait!"
Her voice rang through the waiting room.
Novak's hand stopped.
He turned slowly.
"...Who are you."
His voice was low, flat.
"Badeni is innocent. That notebook was stolen by a man named Vilfrid and submitted as false evidence. ...I'll prove it. Here and now."
With trembling hands, Yolenta held out her mother's calculation sheets and Badeni's notebook before Novak.
"There's a hidden sequence on the last page of this notebook. It's a cipher in the star language. ...If you decode it, it proves that the notebook's true owner is not Vilfrid. ...And these calculation sheets my mother left behind—the key to the sequence is written here. ...Look at the speed of these calculations. Their precision. ...This isn't something that could be forged in a single night."
She spread the notebook and calculation sheets on the floor.
Then she opened her mother's dictionary.
Her fingertips traced equations in the air.
"...This row of numbers. ...If you shift it like this... it matches the retrograde period of Jupiter. ...And this answer is... 'innocent.' ...In the star language, it reads 'innocent.'"
She said it all in one breath.
Novak stared down at the calculation sheets and notebook spread on the floor.
Silence.
A long silence.
Novak's brow moved—just slightly.
"...Who wrote this?"
For the first time, interest colored his voice.
"...I did. I solved it."
She looked straight up into Novak's eyes.
"...A woman did this?"
He murmured it.
His voice held contempt and astonishment in equal measure.
At that moment, the interrogation room door flew open.
"Ha! A woman, running her mouth as if she understands anything!"
Vilfrid stood there.
The man who had once stolen Badeni's research.
The man who had since wormed his way into the Church's favor and orchestrated this accusation.
"Hey, Inquisitor Novak. There's no need to listen to this girl's nonsense. The evidence is all here. Now—hurry up and execute this heretic."
As he spoke, Vilfrid slipped a hand inside his coat.
In that instant, Okuji whispered into Yolenta's ear.
"That bastard—he's about to pull out another sheet of paper from his coat. ...False evidence. He's going to swap it in."
Okuji's amber eyes tracked Vilfrid's hands precisely through the gloom.
Yolenta caught Father Fernando's eye.
He gave a quiet nod.
"...Lord
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