Lighten Up Those Faces
Leon settled into the carriage and set out for the Imperial Palace.
Once past the inner gates, the closer they drew to the palace, the more the throngs of people outside pressed in on his senses. Through the aura-sense he had casually extended, powerful energies flickered here and there — and the frequency only climbed. Within a radius of several kilometers, formidable fighters of a caliber rarely seen anywhere else were stationed in dense clusters.
Imperial knights, and the trained among those attending the banquet.
Rumble…
"Young Master. We have arrived."
Even at a brisk pace, the trip from House Asonia to their destination had taken only about thirty minutes.
"Good work."
Leon clapped the coachman who had opened the door on the shoulder and stepped down.
Their destination was the front courtyard of the Imperial Palace's West Wing.
Lush green lawns, fragrant flower beds, pure white statues. A cleanly paved avenue cut straight through them all. The road opened onto a broad plaza with a fountain at its center, and the water droplets scattering from it caught the sunlight and set everything glittering.
Against the backdrop of a brilliant midsummer noon and the radiant palace, Locke and Elliot sat beneath a pergola.
Leon greeted them cheerfully.
"I'm here."
Locke nodded. Elliot beamed and said,
"Welcome, dear. You've dressed up splendidly."
"Ah — do I look all right?"
"Of course. Did someone help you? The workmanship is excellent."
Leon bobbed his head, thoroughly pleased with Elliot's appraisal.
In truth, Baekyeon had done his hair today.
Her official status at present was Leon's personal attendant. For an orphan with no family, it was the most convenient position that let her stay comfortably at his side. It was as good as Leon personally vouching for her identity, and to outside eyes it raised no eyebrows.
Baekyeon had sworn to devote her life to him as a subordinate, so their actual relationship was not far off from the title anyway.
In any case, once she had secured the attendant's status, Baekyeon had been delighted and insisted on serving him. The result was Leon's appearance today.
And just as Elliot had judged, Baekyeon's handiwork and aesthetic sense were exceptional — so much so that the Asonia maid who had previously tended Leon's hair had withdrawn in dejection.
Barely three minutes had passed.
Rumble—
Two carriages arrived one right behind the other. The one in the rear was a familiar black coach.
The doors opened at once, and Lyman and Raul stepped down in turn.
"Mother, Father. I hope you have been well."
"…"
Lyman bowed with precise formality; Raul, behind him, offered a stiff sword salute.
Locke kept his mouth shut and returned only a nod of the eyes. He had not spoken a single word since earlier. Today he was even more taciturn than usual.
"…Ahem. Good to see you all."
With the three of them like that, Elliot's lips parted, then she swallowed whatever she had been about to say and offered something else instead. Her smile had gone slightly awkward.
Leon clicked his tongue.
These stiff-faced bastards.
What, had they come to a funeral?
Everyone was putting on unnecessary airs, and the Duchess was getting crushed under the weight of it. He could see her spirits starting to sink as clear as day.
Leon's mouth twisted.
Tsk. Something about this…
He really did not like it.
On impulse, Leon seized Elliot's hand.
"Mother, shall we go? Allow me to escort you."
"…!"
Elliot turned to him with a face that said she could not believe it.
Still holding her hand, Leon tore into the men.
"It's a joyful feast day — why is everyone looking like death? Anyone would think we were marching off to war. Let's lighten up those faces, shall we? Cheerful. Strong. Hm? And for heaven's sake, proud."
— …
Everyone lost their words. Even Raul, who had been shooting Leon sidelong glares, went blank with astonishment.
Last year's memory was flashing through all their minds.
Exactly one year ago on this day, Leon had been powerless, cowed, tense, silent, gloomy, dark… in short, the living embodiment of everything he had just told them not to be.
But the Leon standing here now was, quite literally, a different person from that one.
"He's right."
Lyman answered with a quiet smile.
"We really had let the atmosphere grow too rigid. On a happy day like this, that won't do. Inside or out, it's the same."
Locke finally opened his heavy mouth.
"…You two are right. No need to make things heavier than they have to be."
Leon added one more line.
"Yes, exactly. Do as I say. You're all men who know how to wear a fine smile, aren't you?"
"Haha."
Lyman finally broke into a hearty laugh, and the corner of Locke's mouth lifted as well.
"…"
Raul slowly closed his eyes and opened them again, then arranged his signature arrogant smile. It was forced rather than genuine, but he was smiling all the same.
"Hmm. Much better to look at."
Leon surveyed them as if conducting an inspection, then called out with vigor.
"All right, all right! Let's move!"
Still with her hand held captive, Elliot said, looking rather put on the spot,
"Le—Leon… but I'm supposed to go in with your father."
"Just as far as the entrance like this. What's the harm? Come along, my lady."
Leon steamrolled past the objection on pure momentum and began leading Elliot away.
"Oh, for goodness' sake."
Elliot let herself be escorted, pretending she could not refuse — and anyone could see she was thoroughly delighted.
House Crusif, Guardians of the Empire's East — enter!
As they neared the banquet hall entrance, a booming announcement carried from within. Lively entrance music began to play as well.
The current time was 11:45 a.m. Fifteen minutes before the noon start, the slot assigned to House Crusif for their entrance.
Guests did not simply wander in as they pleased; the order was locked down to the minute. Seats filled in sequence from lowest rank to highest. The earliest arrivals had likely been waiting nearly three hours already.
As one of the Four Great Ducal Houses, House Crusif could afford to stroll in with a mere fifteen minutes to spare.
A vast entrance that opened at a right angle — and beyond it, the banquet hall revealed itself.
The lighting and decorations were dazzling enough to make the eyes ache. The interior was truly immense and extravagantly luxurious.
The overall palette was a black-and-white base accented with silver and crimson. Great windows lined both walls, drawing in the palace grounds and natural light.
Damn… look at this layout.
From the entrance all the way to the far end, which looked no bigger than a speck, long rows of tables stretched down both sides. Guests sat facing each other across each row, backs to the windows.
Whether by design or not, the central space had been left almost excessively wide open.
Step— Step—
Leon began crossing that center aisle with the rest of the Crusif family. Locke and Elliot walked side by side at the front; the others followed behind.
There were an absurd number of eyes. Auras and gazes poured in. With a layout that put them on display like models on a runway, it was inevitable.
"Hmm."
Leon glanced around, taking them in.
Surprise, awe, admiration, irritation, wariness, hostility, blank indifference… With so many different people gathered, the reactions aimed at them were just as varied.
Some whispered among themselves, some applauded, some simply sat staring.
Leon's hearing picked up their murmurs without any special effort.
But a particular phrase kept repeating.
…? Azure Sky Sword?
Were they talking about him?
Listening more carefully, yes — they were talking about him.
Azure Sky, huh. So I've picked up another moniker.
A peculiar feeling washed over Leon.
…Still, it beat "Gallant Hero."
The higher one's rank, the farther forward the seats were placed. House Crusif's table was practically on the front line.
After a long walk, the Crusif family reached their assigned places. At a single table, seats were set in order: Locke, Elliot, Lyman, Raul, and Leon.
Thud—
Leon sat and looked straight ahead…
…at a cluster of violet-haired figures staring blankly back at him. He offered a nod of the eyes to Ervion and his two brothers, and returned Celia's smiling glance with a smile of his own.
Immediately to the left of House Helbridge, the table was decorated with heads of fiery red hair. House Bastio.
Leon raised a hand to Carotin and swept a quick look over the rest of them.
At the far right of the Bastio table sat a middle-aged man with a striking presence, arms crossed. His build was on the smaller side, and he wore a hearty smile not unlike Carotin's.
From him, a monstrous aura leaked out like a bone-cutting northern gale — and even that was clearly being heavily suppressed.
The head of House Bastio: Duke Celsius Bastio.
Turning his head farther left, Leon found a table embroidered in gold. House Ellingold. Liana's face was hidden by the angle.
Instead, the head of House Ellingold came into view at once. The duke sat at the far right of their table; Leon sat at the far left of his — practically within arm's reach.
…Is that really the duke? Not a regent?
Looking at her, Leon swallowed a surge of disbelief.
Duchess Shardis Ellingold. Her appearance was far too young. He could have believed she was Liana's older sister by a year or two.
Well — there are people like Gwiho out there.
But Leon accepted it soon enough.
A high-circle mage with six circles would age extremely slowly. On top of that, she was one of the wealthiest people in the Empire — maintaining a youthful appearance would be nothing at all.
Beyond the Four Great Ducal Houses stretched the faces of the other noble families filling the hall.
On the opposite side stood a raised dais, with a single massive table set crosswise — the only one oriented that way — so that its occupants could look down over everyone at a glance.
The Imperial family's seats.
Onto that dais stepped a man dressed in formal uniform.
"All present, maintain silence."
At the Imperial Steward's words, the noise of the hall died in an instant.
"The supreme sovereign of the Latia Empire. The merciful guide of all her people. And the true master of the continent…"
Every eye in the hall fixed on the dais.