Change (5)
There was a table near the Academy training grounds, set aside for students to catch their breath between sessions. Seated at it were Arthur, Third Prince of the Soladin Kingdom, and Frey Kent, eldest daughter of the House of Kent, famed for its swordsmanship. Back when they had first enrolled at Soul Academy, the two had crossed paths at a handful of tournaments and nothing more — no real acquaintance existed between them. But now, with their first year nearly at its end, the sight of the two together no longer felt the least bit strange. The common denominator between them was one person: Lucy Aln. One of them threw herself into grinding herself to dust against Lucy, driven by the dream of one day defeating her. The other clung to Lucy, convinced that only she could fill the hollow something inside herself. Their purposes differed, but on the one point they agreed — they had both gathered around Lucy as their center. And so Arthur and Frey had grown quite comfortable with each other. That comfort showed most clearly in Frey. "Loser." Aside from Lucy, she was the only person alive who could say such a thing to Arthur — a man who, distant from the throne though he might be, carried royal blood all the same.
"...Hey. Frey Kent."
"The loser who ran off before he could even finish his sentence."
"I will thank you to stop there."
It was insolence, plain and simple — mockery bordering on sacrilege — yet Arthur found himself unable to offer a single word of rebuttal. Because by his own honest assessment, his recent behavior was best described as nothing short of disgraceful. ...No. This isn't my fault alone. Lucy Aln bears her own share of the blame.What in the world could have happened over a single weekend to change a person that much?! What did she go through in that brief span of time, that the girl who used to stand there like a doll carved by a master craftsman — the one I could only gaze at in pure admiration — comes back draped in a beauty I can't tear my eyes away from?Just... ugh.
"Haahh." His face burning, Arthur dragged a hand down it and let out a long sigh. Cursing himself inwardly wouldn't make yesterday's antics disappear, after all. Ordinarily, anyone would have read the room at this point — but Frey did not. A girl who couldn't even recognize her own emotions was hardly going to worry about someone else's.
"The loser who got scared of a girl two heads shorter than him and ran away."
"...Who says I ran because I was scared?! It was nothing of the sort!"
"Then what was it?"
"I was merely — Lucy Aln was—"
"So you were spooked."
"Enough! Enough, I say! How many times must I tell you!"
And with that, the last thread holding Arthur's reason together snapped, veins standing out along his neck.
"What is your problem?! Just how much resentment have you been hoarding all this time?! Was my telling you to follow instructions in the dungeon really so unbearable?!"
"Yep."
"Need I remind you that you bore no small share of the blame there! Had you simply followed my orders properly—"
"But Your Highness the Third Prince's orders are so lame they're boring."
"Damn it all! You're shamelessly upfront about it, aren't you!"
Having grasped the eternal truth that you cannot win against someone whose words simply refuse to land no matter how loudly you rage, Arthur raked his hands wildly through his hair — and then, as if something had just occurred to him, spoke without lifting them.
"Aren't you every bit as much of a loser yourself!"
"Me?"
"The one who bolted the moment it came out that she wanted to be teased by Lucy Aln!"
"..."
Until that very moment Frey had been brimming with confidence, but even she had her limits. The instant Arthur poked at her sore spot, her mouth clamped shut.
"And yet you whined that Lucy Aln might not grace you with her attention, then had the gall to blame her for it! The sheer absurdity!"
"...I didn't whine."
"Ha! I asked what was the matter since you were acting unnaturally dull, and—"
"Stop."
"—the girl who answered with her voice trembling like a leaf claims she wasn't whining?! What a thoroughly convincing argument!"
"Stop there. Or I'll cut you down."
The two of them glared at each other, bloodshot eyes locked —
"Frey Kent."
"Yeah."
"We end this here."
"Okay."
— but the standoff dissolved as Arthur stepped back. Perhaps he'd burned through all his energy shouting a moment ago; leaning against the backrest of his chair, he stared blankly into the air and spoke as though muttering to himself.
"I would return, then, to the matter of yesterday."
"The day His Highness ran away?"
"Are we starting over?"
"Sorry."
"In any case, we were in the midst of offering you counsel on your troubles, were we not?"
The studies demanded at Soul Academy. The various quotas Lucy personally handed out. And on top of all that, dungeon clearances. This was precisely why Arthur — drowning in a schedule so packed he barely had time to breathe managing it all — had gone out to the street with Joy and Frey on the weekend. Frey's counseling session. To address the problem of Frey, who had been spending far too much of late drifting around in a daze because of the incident with Lucy, they had carved time out of their weekend.
"That's right."
"I take it nothing further was discussed on that subject after I left?"
"Nope. I just walked around Academy Street with Lucy."
"Anything noteworthy?"
"Every single restaurant we stopped at was delicious."
"...A quintessentially Frey answer."
"Really? Thanks."
"That wasn't meant as... haah. Never mind. So we made no further progress beyond what was discussed yesterday."
Arthur, having tidied his wind-ravaged hair with a deft application of wind magic, turned his gaze back to Frey.
"To convey what I failed to finish saying yesterday: Lucy Aln is not going to cast you aside. It's true that girl has a filthy mouth, but her heart is not a cruel one. She considers you a friend — so she will keep you at her side."
"Me? A friend? Lucy's?"
"You two are inseparable, trailing after one another hither and yon — what else would one call it?"
"A friend."
When Frey broke into a sheepish grin, Arthur let out a laugh drained of all its force. The last time he'd seen her at a tournament, she'd been so cold he'd genuinely wondered whether she qualified as human. Seeing her like this, she seemed almost painfully human. Was this, too, a change wrought by Lucy Aln?
"And so my conclusion is that you have nothing to worry about."
"And so?"
"All that said, we have known each other long enough that I'll offer a word more."
Arthur, who knew the Frey of the past, considered this change a good one. Asked which inspired more warmth — the Frey without a trace of humanity, or the Frey of today — the answer was obviously the latter. So why not accelerate the change a little further? As long as she followed Lucy, they would be acquainted a long time, after all.
"You told me that before you met Lucy Aln, you knew nothing of emotion. Am I correct?"
"Yeah. That's right."
"And you told me that upon meeting her, you felt anger for the very first time."
"Exactly."
"Then tell me this. Is anger the only emotion you have felt since?"
At Arthur's question, Frey tilted her head. She didn't understand the question. How can I phrase it so she'll grasp it more easily?Ah. That should do it.
"You once described anger as the color red. So my question is this — has no color other than red ever filled your heart?"
"It has."
Frey nodded readily, without a moment's deliberation. To her, the colors of the heart were rarities of the highest order — so recalling the moments they had filled her was no difficult task at all.
"When Lucy called me an idiot. When it came out that I wanted to be teased by her. And..."
"That's enough. Frey — of those, which color do you wish to encounter more often?"
"Colors?"
"Indeed. Surely colors have their ranks and hierarchies, just as you once regarded everything tied to Lucy Aln as most important of all."
At Arthur's question, Frey opened her mouth and closed it, again and again. The answer did not come easily. She had always thought that so long as some color filled her heart, anything was fine — she had never once considered the question of higher and lower. Just as Frey, brow furrowed, was settling into earnest contemplation, footsteps sounded from somewhere off to the side.
"Good day to you both?"
The newcomer was someone of standing enough to insert herself into a conversation between a prince and the eldest daughter of a prestigious comital house. Joy Partran. The daughter of the Ducal House of Partran greeted the pair with a bow not a single thread out of place.
"You're late. Was it the curtains? Did you mistake morning for night and go back to sleep?"
"I happened upon Lady Aln on my way here, you see. The lady whom our shy little prince fell for at first sight."
"Who fell for whom, exactly!"
"Was I wrong? That's the impression I was under."
Arthur ground his teeth at the sight of Joy, declaring with utter composure that her eyes had gone as scatterbrained as Lucy had put it. Lucy Aln has teased this girl so relentlessly that she's growing brazen by the day.And judging by the fact that she hasn't noticed her twin curls spinning in perfect matching loops, scatterbrained she remains.Ordinarily I'd chide her and set her straight — but today, I shall hold my tongue.She must pay the price for mocking me, after all.
"I've brought news I believe will interest you both. Lady Aln and Professor Karl are to hold a sparring match!"
"Those two?"
"Yes. It seems Lady Aln made the request herself — saying she wished to test her full strength."
"A bout with the knight of House Aln."
That Karl was the knight of House Aln was an open secret. Neither Lucy nor Karl made any effort whatsoever to hide it — anyone who paid the slightest attention could see it plainly. If Lucy Aln were to cross blades with the knight of House Aln — a name that surfaced every single time anyone asked who fielded the strongest knight order on the continent — then no matter how prodigious Lucy's talent for the blade, victory would be beyond her unless she committed her full strength. A chance to witness that strength. This was, without question, precious news.
"Intriguing, no?"
"Worth the wait. My thanks."
Having expressed his gratitude to the puffing-her-chest Joy, Arthur turned his gaze toward Frey, who remained lost in thought.
"Frey Kent."
"...Hm?"
"Come with me. The sight will help you find your answer."
"What sight?"
"You weren't listening at all, were you."
Told he'd explain on the way, Frey rose from her seat and followed Arthur.
"Losers. Aren't you both a little too slow?"
The place Joy led them to was one of the sparring halls rented out by the Academy. Only those who had reserved it could enter, and there stood Lucy and Karl, facing each other across the floor — though the only one of them Arthur's eyes found was Lucy. Even now, Arthur couldn't say precisely how Lucy had changed. What he knew for certain was that she had acquired the power to seize a gaze and hold it. Whether one was drawn in by her allure, or burned with envy of her beauty — anyone who once laid eyes on the person called Lucy would find themselves staring at her for a very long time indeed.
"...Hm? Lucy Aln. Your armor is in a sorry state. What happened to it?"
Arthur, who had been quietly observing her, noticed that her armor looked ready to fall apart at any moment. It seemed to have been patched up in its way, but the armor itself had reached its limit. Any smith worth his forge would recommend a new suit.
"His Highness the Pitiful Prince went through something so enormous he can't even wrap his head around it. You'd be absolutely floored if I told you?"
"What on earth could you have gone through—"
"Curious? Shall I tell you?"
"That would be appreciated."
"Hmmmm. I've changed my mind. It's a secret."
"...What?"
Seeing Arthur's eyebrow shoot up, Lucy let out a snickering giggle.
"Puhaha! Did you actually think I'd tell you? Did you get your hopes up? Too bad — it's a secret. It's way too early to tell a little baby like you, Pitiful Prince."
Had this been any other day, Arthur would have had words for her by now. Today, he could not. Despite her gestures being no different than usual, Arthur's face had gone scarlet, and his mouth sealed itself shut.
"Loser."
At the sight of him, Frey spoke up as if intending to repay the scolding she'd once received in the dungeon, while Joy, standing beside her, whipped her head away and fought a desperate battle to smother her laughter. Their reactions poured further heat onto Arthur's face — but Lucy, the root cause of it all, had long since lost all interest in him.
"Hey. Loser."
"Are you ready, my lady?"
"Come at me whenever. I'll drag you through the dirt like a dog."
"I look forward to it!"
The instant Karl — who had answered with a smile playing on his lips — pushed off the ground,
he vanished from Arthur's field of vision.
...What?Call me distracted all you like, but this—
CLANG!
Arthur only managed to catch up to Karl's movement a beat too late, after one full clash had already come and gone.
"Your sword's gotten rust-slow, hasn't it? Maybe old dogs just recover slower?"
"Haha! My lady! If I'm an old dog, what does that make every other knight alive!"
Blocked by Lucy's shield, Karl's blade was already searching the empty air for its next line of attack.