the greatwitch of the forest

When they entered the main building, Demi had to stop for a second time and turn slowly around and around, looking at everything. The inside of the building was beautifully in keeping with the outside. Everything was sea blue and spring green and there was golden wood everywhere. All of the light fixtures were shaped like flowers, and the skylights overhead were stained glass that made it seem that they were still out under the green leaves and the arbors of roses. The light coming through them reflected off the polished floor, making it seem as if there were grass underfoot.

There was a broad stairway leading upwards in the main hallway, but there was another stairway too, a beautifully elegant spiral that seemed to have grown out of the building, turning and turning as it pushed its way upwards. It was here that Monday led Demi, up six flights of curving, curving stairs, and into a beautiful waiting room with windows that overlooked the rose arbors and the stream full of plump koi fish.

The room was decorated with awards and memorabilia, small curated collections of trophies and ribbons, certificates, medals, even an oar covered in signatures that seemed to have come from a rowing competition.

And then there were the photographs.

There were dozens and dozens of photographs on the wall of all different sizes and aspects, some in color, others in black and white, some sepia toned with age. There were many class portraits, with rows of girls standing primly before the beautiful lines of the main building, or otherwise clustered in the various gardens. And then there were more candid shots of students and faculty: small and mixed groups of girls hard at work or at play, on ponies, digging in the dirt, in classrooms. There were small engraved plaques attached to each photograph’s frame, and Demi read over dozens of unfamiliar and sometimes vaguely familiar names before she ran across one that she knew in her heart.

And the face was also very familiar, younger certainly, but instantly recognizable. Haiko Kobayashi had never really looked her age. All of the other researchers had always agreed upon that. There was another girl in the photograph who also seemed immediately recognizable. It appeared to be the Duchess Lunamaia, but it couldn't be. It was likely her mother, although the resemblance was uncanny.

“Your mother was student council vice president during her time in school,” Monday said pleasantly. She was a much better tour guide than Clarence Darby had been, despite the fact that she was much more handsy.

“Not president?” Demi asked, preoccupied. It was hard to imagine her mother not being in charge of things. She had run all of the organizations that she had engaged with, in Demi’s experience: the lab, the estate at Forest Home, the guild, even Demi’s Forest Girls’ troop. She was that sort of person: a competent one.

Monday shook her head. “The current Duchess Lunamaia was president at the time,” she said. “As per the rules of this school. Your mother served as her vice president. They were the most celebrated student council this school has ever known, and established many of our current traditions.”

This provoked Demi out of her reverie.

“The current Duchess Lunamaia?” Demi asked in confusion. “Surely you mean her mother.”

The Lunamaia that Demi had met had appeared to be a young student, possibly a middle schooler.

Monday smiled vaguely. “The Duchess has a childish figure and a baby face,” she confided. “They're both charm points for her.”

Demi blinked as she looked again at the girls in the photographs.

Indeed, Lunamaia was easy to identify.

She looked identical to the girl Demi had met briefly in the room of stained glass.

In fact, she looked so absolutely identical, it was a little unnerving.

It was as if the duchess had not aged a day in over forty years.

“St. Muirgein’s instituted the honor code at that time, as well as the honor council, the code of ethics, and the disciplinary committee,” Monday said. “They spearheaded the reorganization of the library, reformed the library committee, and went before the board of trustees to argue for changes to the school charter. It was at this time that St. Muirgein’s increased its scholarship spots from two to twelve, and secured four of the spots for students from the Lowercity. It was revolutionary at the time, and the changes at St. Muirgein’s caused several other schools to follow suit in reviewing their standards and traditions. Your mother went on to attend university with the duchess, and they remained close friends ever afterwards.”

Demi stared at the wall of framed photographs pensively.

“I wonder why she didn't come to the funeral,” Demi said, touching the frame of one of the photos. It was of her mother, looking impossibly young, sitting behind a huge amount of paperwork, with a rueful smile on her face.

“The great princes have many responsibilities,” Monday said wisely. “I’m sure if she did not attend, it was not because she did not wish to be there.”

Demi smiled tightly, and then nodded.

“Now, If you’ll follow me, Mitya, the headmistress would like to see you,” Monday said.

The office was up another flight of the spiral stairs and through a beautifully carved door.

It was a large room, full of light because there were windows facing out on all directions, and the tower commanded an impressive view of a great deal of the campus. It felt like being in a crow’s nest, or a lookout tower.

The carpet was dense and plush, with an abstract pattern of honeysuckle blossoms that had been fitted into fluid geometric curves. The whole room was a beautiful aquamarine color, and the wood that was not painted was the color of golden honey. There were framed illustrations of bees hung in between the wide windows, and a hexagonal honeycomb pattern was repeated in several places in the room. The room itself was not round, but rather hexagonal.

There was a great wooden desk in the middle of the room, but there was no headmistress behind it.

Instead, there was a lady with silvery white hair looking out across the campus through one of the many windows. She had her hands folded and clasped behind her back.

She was tall and well built, and her silvery hair fell loose over her shoulders and hung so long she might have sat on it. She was wearing a long, black dress and she had a very elegant looking velvet jacket thrown over her shoulders as if it were a cloak.

She did not immediately turn to look at them, but instead kept her eyes focused on what could be seen across the campus before her.

She gave the impression that she had been waiting for quite some time and Demi could not help but feel chastised.

Still, she thought that she would have probably made it to school on time had Monday not led her on several leisurely strolls. She had made Demi feel as if there was no real hurry to get to school, despite the lateness of the hour, and so she had been lured into admiring everything that interested her.

Monday had only become vaguely concerned with punctuality once they stepped onto the campus.

And yet, if Demi were being completely honest with herself, she knew it was no fault but her own that she was late to her first day of school.

Monday hadn't set her alarm forward a full hour, after all.

When the headmistress did turn to look at them at last, Demi was struck by her elegance and beauty. She was wearing glasses with small round golden rims, and both the sleeves and collar of her dress were detailed with intricate cobwebby lace.

And she was carrying what was unmistakably a riding crop.

I guess this lady is a horsewoman too. I hope I'm not about to be flogged for being tardy, Demi thought absently.

It seemed like it might be a credible threat. The headmistress did not look like the sort of a person who suffered fools easily. She looked very capable of dispensing hard guidance in the form of discipline.

“I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Serraffield,” the headmistress said coolly, placing the riding crop under her arm so that she could offer her hand to Demi.

Demi blanched slightly. The word finally was well chosen. She took the headmistress’s hand and gave it a polite shake.

“The pleasure is mine, headmistress,” Demi answered politely.

“Please,” she said, indicating a carved wooden chair before her desk, “Sit.”

Demi sat as indicated, but she was surprised to see that Monday remained standing, despite the fact that there was another chair in front of the desk.

The headmistress moved behind the desk and sat, laying the riding crop across a neat stack of paperwork as if it were a fountain pen.

“I hope you're finding St. Muirgein’s agreeable,” the headmistress said evenly.

Demi smiled genuinely and said, “I like it very much. It's really nothing like I expected, although I can't really say what it is that I did expect. It's as if it's come right out of a fairy story.”

The headmistress smiled briefly, a flicker of her mouth. The smile seemed honest, and not forced.

“This is a very special place,” the headmistress agreed. “It is our honor to be trusted with it and to enjoy the privilege of living and learning in this sacred space.”

It does seem sacred, doesn’t it? Demi thought to herself.

It didn’t feel sacred in the way that the cathedral felt sacred, full of the agony and ecstasy of organized religion. This was an elder sacredness, one that could be smelled, and felt on the skin.

Maybe it’s because the Deep Wood is so close by, Demi thought.

Surely if gods dwelt anywhere on this earth it was in the shadowed depths of the Deep Wood.

This would be a good place, she thought: a good place for her, and a good place for Druid and Foxy. They would be able to breathe here.

“That being said,” the headmistress concluded, “We are pleased to receive you as a student, Lady Serraffield, and to welcome you as a legacy to St. Muirgein’s-Above-the-Forest. Your mother made remarkable contributions to the rich history of this school during her time as a student, and I am certain that you will make your own contributions given time.” She frowned briefly as she said, “We find ourselves in need of your leadership, so it’s fortunate that you have elected to begin your studies with us, although certainly we would have been pleased to have you earlier.”

Wait, Demi thought. Something seems —

But the headmistress continued.

“The girls will certainly be overjoyed to meet you, and I expect dealing with that will take the lion’s share of the day. You may take your first day as one of leisure, to become acquainted with the campus and the students,” the headmistress said. “I don't expect you to begin your duties until tomorrow.”

Demi blinked and thought about how to phrase the question that had immediately appeared under her tongue.

“And what duties are those?” she asked mildly.

It was the headmistress’s turn to blink, and then she very slowly shifted her piercing gaze to Monday.

“Miss Volkova, haven't you told Lady Serraffield anything?” she demanded.

“Oh, I've told her lots and lots of things,” Monday disagreed pleasantly.

The headmistress exhaled loudly through her nose, a sign of frustration and resignation.

“But nothing about her responsibilities here?” she verified, having seemingly already arrived at the answer to this question herself. “Nothing about her position?”

“A little about her position,” Monday said evenly, unperturbed by the headmistress’s aggravation. “She’s a very curious Alice, and I answered all of her questions as she asked them. As for her responsibilities, some of them are self-evident, and of course wouldn't escape a bright girl like Lady Serraffield. As for the others, I thought it was best to leave that to you, being as you are the authority and all.”

The headmistress sighed again and brought her fingertips to her temple briefly. But then she schooled herself and put away her frustration, becoming cool and businesslike.

“Upon your entry into this school, you became, by right of your status as a hereditary aristocrat and heir to the Curia of Lords, the president of the student council, the ultimate student representative and authority,” she said. “So it is written in the school charter, and so it shall be.” She gestured briefly to Monday. “It is for this reason that Miss Volkova has been assigned as your equerry with regards to your school life. She will also serve as your vice president as you require it, and will answer any questions you may have about protocol and tradition. Once you leave here, she will escort you to meet the other members of your student council.”

The room became absolutely silent as Demi digested this rather large and completely unexpected piece of information.

She managed to contain her desire to shout ‘WHAT?!!?’ in a frenzy of anxiety and distress, and instead channeled all of her dread into cool offense.

“Excuse me?” she asked. “What do you mean when you say I became student council president upon entry to the school? I never agreed to any such thing.”

The headmistress raised an eyebrow.

“You're not required to agree to anything, Miss Serraffield,” she explained levelly. “Or rather, I’m afraid that you already have. By applying to this school you implicitly agreed to shoulder this responsibility as the highest ranked heir to the Curia among the students. Once we accepted your application, your position became final. The day you began as a student would be the day you became St. Muirgein’s new student council president. You will retain this office until you graduate, or until a higher ranked heir to the Curia is accepted as a student. In that circumstance, you will serve as vice president until the time you leave school.”

Demi frowned and then said, “I’m sorry, but I can't accept that.”

It wasn't only that suddenly being thrust into a leadership position would absolutely wreck her plans to try and learn to socialize normally with girls her age. Baby steps would no longer be on the table.

But beyond that, the idea of being appointed student council president because of the auspices of her birth, when she didn't know a soul among the students apart from Monday and the girls she’d met at the gate, felt very wrong to her. It offended her sensibilities.

This is just like that pigeon game, she thought tiredly.

She knew that this distress at the idea of taking up a responsibility because she had been born to do it was hypocritical. She could not but know that, having known she was an heir to the Curia for the whole of her life. But that was something she couldn't escape, the duty of service she owed in payment for her privileged life and remarkable education.

She had hoped for something different in her school life. She had hoped for a place where she was not required to be a lovely showpiece at all times, shouldering the worries and responsibilities that came with any position of notoriety and power. It wasn’t as if she disliked being a leader. On the contrary, she was most comfortable in a position of leadership, particularly if no other suitably qualified people presented themselves. She had to see to every detail herself, or otherwise be dissatisfied.

It wasn't as if she rebelled at the idea of being the student council president in principle. It was something that she might have sought out for herself and enjoyed. But if she had decided to run for student council while she was a student, she wanted it to be because it was the path that she chose for herself, the office that others elected her to because they thought she would do a good job and serve well.

She strongly disliked the idea that she was a leader who was being forced onto the other students without their consultation.

“Did you hear that?” Monday asked curiously. “Mitya can't accept that! Isn't she cool? I think the other students are going to love her personal integrity. Such a charm point!”

The headmistress shot a look at Monday that clearly indicated that she ought to be silent, which the other girl accepted without apparent worry. Then the headmistress turned her attention back to Demi.

“Your time as a student at this school will be brief. That is true of high schools everywhere, and it has been for long, long years. Despite the brevity of your high school experience, these years are important as they shape you into the person you will be for the rest of your life,” she said seriously. “You will make friends and enemies here. You will learn a great deal, and not just from the professors and instructors. You will learn from your classmates, and your teammates, and your rivals. You will make friends here that will last the rest of your life. Not all times will be good,” she cautioned. “Some times will be absolutely terrible, and your heart will break more than once, but the time you have at school is precious, and it should not be squandered.”

Demi pressed her lips together hard, and they became a thin line. She remained relatively emotionless, listening, because the headmistress clearly had more to say.

“High school changes students. It changes them as they grow and learn, as they move toward becoming the people they wish to be. But it isn't only school that changes students. Students also have a profound effect on their environment. They have the ability to change and influence the systems of their own education from the inside. That is the essence of the student council system at St. Muirgein’s which has been adopted widely among the other educational institutions in the Six Schools Alliance.” The headmistress paused and then affixed Demi with a dark eyed stare. “You have been given a remarkable privilege and opportunity,” she said.

“It's not that I don't appreciate the importance of my time here,” Demi answered carefully. “It’s not that I don't appreciate the importance of student leadership. On the contrary,” she said seriously, “It is because I understand the importance of the position of student council president that I must refuse an appointment.”

“This place is a sanctuary,” the headmistress said passionately, throwing her arm out to the side, the riding crop cutting such an arc through the air that it could be heard, “And it requires protection. You were born with the power to protect this place. You must learn to exercise it whether you want to or not, whether it pleases you or not, or more people besides you will be hurt.”

She stared at Demi hard and then asked a demanding question,

“Who is Demeter Serraffield?”

The question was heavy, and hung in the air in silence for a long moment before the headmistress continued.

“What will your legacy be?” she asked. “Who will you choose to be? What are your values? What is it that you want to leave here after you've graduated?”

Each question was hard and difficult and utterly without mercy.

These were not questions that Demi felt that she could answer. She hadn’t prepared for this. She hadn’t prepared for it at all.

She felt a little like crying, although she knew that she could not do such a thing. Fortunately, Monday seemed to sense her distress and interceded on her behalf.

“Ah, baba, don't put so much pressure on Mitya,” Monday chided. “She’ll faint and we’ll have to call paramedics, and then the whole school will be in an uproar.”

“Miss Volkova!” the headmistress said sharply, striking her desk with the riding crop. “I have told you countless times. You will not be overly familiar with me during school hours, or when you are performing your duties as council attaché.”

Monday made a flowy, undulating movement with her arms. It seemed as if she were doing a strange interpretive dance.

“Baba, Mitya is going to think you're an old crone of a tyrant! Why not be a sweet and lovely grandmama who makes beautiful pies and dispenses folk wisdom?” she asked. “Vinegar and honey and all that. The warm sun and the cold wind.”

Monday’s strange and funny display did a great deal to break the tension in Demi’s heart and to calm her. She appreciated that, whether it had been intentional or not.

But she suspected it had been intentional. Monday was very keen.

“Miss Volkova, I am perfectly capable of managing my own image as headmistress without your advice,” the headmistress said crisply, her own temper having cooled a bit because of Monday’s seaweed-like dance. The headmistress adjusted the small glasses at the end of her nose and took a deep breath before speaking again. “Miss Serraffield is not a child. She must be ready to embrace her responsibilities,” she said evenly. “There is no time left for a delay, whatever her feelings. They are upon her. They are upon us all.”

So the headmistress is Monday’s grandmother, Demi thought to herself, looking at the both of them. That's probably why she was assigned as my equerry. I have to expect that at the very least, Monday will give reports on my activities to the headmistress, if no one else, although at the moment it seems as if they may be at odds. Monday seems a little stubborn and independent, not fully in line. Of course, that could be a show put on for my benefit, to increase my trust in Monday and to encourage me to take her into my confidence. I won't know until I get a better feel for things.

Both the headmistress and Monday had seemed sincere in their positions, but Demi didn’t know them well enough to say for certain.

“I don't think Mitya is lacking in responsibility,” Monday advised. “I think her sense of justice is being challenged.”

The headmistress paused thoughtfully and looked at Demi intently.

“Please explain yourself,” she said.

Demi’s mouth thinned for a moment, because she had been put on the spot yet again, but she resolved to handle it as best she could. She felt she could answer this question. She could understand it and articulate her thoughts on it.

“I don't believe it's appropriate for a student to be appointed student council president with no due process,” she said. “I don't object to the responsibility. I am prepared to act as my responsibilities dictate as an heir to the Curia of Lords, and to serve as student council president if I am elected by the student body. I am not prepared to serve without an election.”

Monday tittered, but then spoke with what seemed to be genuine compassion. “Oh Dimusha, surely you know that at the high school level, all elections are merely popularity contests, don't you? It's not the most suitable or capable person who is elected to the job, it's the person who’s most idolized. As far as election according to popularity goes, it extends much further than high school elections. Just look at the representatives in the Lower Thing.” She paused, “And surely by now you have realized that you are St. Muirgein’s number one idol. You'd win any election we staged unanimously, probably, or very nearly unanimously. There’s no accounting for some people,” she added mysteriously, with another undulating wave of her hands.

Demi frowned. “Be that as it may, I am not going to accept an appointment. Even taking into account the weaknesses of representative democracy, I won't accept oligarchy. If you want me to be the president, then let me run in an election, even if you think it is a farce.”

“That's very charming, coming from a hereditary aristocrat of the Curia of Lords,” the headmistress said bitterly, with a grim smile.

Inwardly, Demi winced. She had been called out on her hypocrisy.

Whatever egalitarian dreams she nurtured in her bosom, she was still an aristocrat. Her position came with power, but it was up to her to shoulder her responsibilities.

She had hoped, she had been wishing —

She had been wishing for a little time, a small place, a place where she didn’t have to constantly be Lady Serraffield, where she might be Demi, where she might be an ordinary student and make friends and join clubs and do the things girls did when they were in school.

But that time had passed. It had passed before it had ever begun. That made her heart mourn, even if she felt petty in the mourning, feeling selfish and childish and immature.

It had been such a little wish.

But she was not allowed to mourn.

The headmistress leaned across her desk and pressed her lips together, and Demi’s hackles raised.

This was an intimidation tactic, and Demi braced herself.

“I don't believe you understand your position, Miss Serraffield. You had best relax your bargaining posture. There will be no bargaining,” the headmistress said with frigid authority. “You are the new student council president, regardless of your feelings on the matter. That is written into the charter of the school, and you have no ability to oppose it. You are not the Countess Serraffield yet. At the moment, your title is accorded to you as a courtesy. You are a girl in school and you will abide by the school rules.”

You can't force me to do as you like, Demi thought grimly. I am not so easily handled.

She could be as stubborn as a concrete donkey when she wanted to be. She was ready to dig in her feet.

But then the headmistress felled her with a single sentence.

“You are perfectly within your rights to be the student council president in nothing but name,” the headmistress observed idly. “As your equerry, Monday will carry out your duties as well as her own. We have certainly had presidents who enjoyed themselves at the expense of the school. The students will likely continue to love and adore you, but they will know that you have ignored your responsibilities in favor of enjoying the privileges of your position. Beyond that, you will know,” she said, “You will know that you take, and give nothing in return.”

Inside of her shoes, Demi’s toes curled, and she pressed her nails against her palms. The headmistress had read her very well, and flipped her own sense of justice over on top of her. It was heavy, and that heaviness was painful. Demi had no ability to deny her responsibilities. She would not be able to live with herself if she held the position of student council president and ignored her duties. She could not foist her troubles on Monday, no matter how unasked for they were, no matter how amiable her equerry appeared to be.

Demi sighed. She had been cornered. She had been forced to submit. She was used to having her arm twisted.

Currently, she almost felt as if she were the one twisting it her ownself.

“If you think the charter is unjust, then the way to change it is by acting as the student council president,” Monday pointed out easily. “You're the only one with the authority to raise issues before the board of trustees, although you won't have an opportunity to do so until January,” she said.

Demi had had the stick, and now this was the carrot. Even if Monday and her grandmother were not working in perfect concert with one another, the result was the same, and easy for Demi to perceive.

But just because she could perceive it didn't mean she could do anything about it. To refuse her duties would be to compromise her core values.

Demi could not do that. The idea made her feel anxious and sick to her stomach.

“All right,” Demi said slowly. “I accept. But please understand that I will begin working at my earliest opportunity to have these rules changed.”

The headmistress nodded once, apparently satisfied.

“We all have our own crusades don't we?” she asked indulgently. “Particularly when we are young. I wish you well, Miss Serraffield,” she said, rising from her seat. “Monday will show you to the Green House and you can meet the other girls you will be working with on the council.”

Demi sighed again, feeling disgruntled, but then very carefully put her displeasure away. She could not appear ungrateful or uncaring to the people who were now her responsibility. She had to contain her discomfort. To do otherwise would be unseemly.

And it wasn’t just that.

There had been the look she had seen in the headmistress’s eyes when the woman had furiously declared,

This place is a sanctuary and it requires protection.

That hadn’t been a bad look. Even though the lady had finally resorted to strong arm tactics, Demi sensed that she had not done so out of spite or out of malice, but likely out of desperation. What she wanted most was to protect the place that was precious to her, and to do that, she had decided that she needed Demi’s help, one way or another.

This place was wonderful. Demi had never seen anything like it, and she had seen many spectacles of wealth and grandeur.

But despite its serene majesty, it was fragile. She did not doubt for a moment that it needed protecting.

In this world, the things that were genuinely good needed protecting.

That was a sentiment that Demi could understand.

She had only just come to this place, and she also wanted to protect it.

She resolved to do her best to do just that.

She hadn’t resolved to make the best of a bad situation. The situation was neither bad nor good. It was simply a situation.

She just had to find the way forward, to find her own way to be student council president while remaining herself.

She would do it.