Prologue
KWA-KA-BOOM!
Lightning struck. Though it was the middle of the day, light flared across the pitch-black sky, and for a brief moment the flood-drowned city of Hamilton revealed itself.
“Arf! Arf-arf-arf-arf!”
Jasper, who had been lying obediently at his feet, sprang up as if startled by the bolt and barked madly at the window. The sound didn't carry very far through the torrential rain, but Bayul knew he was not alone.
“Jasper, shh!”
“Arf-arf-arf!”
“Father Juan is here, so you need to be quiet. It's rude to interrupt!”
“Arf! Arf!”
“Keep that up and I'll put you outside. Do you want to go out?”
Bayul had something important ahead of him — something that demanded intense concentration, and above all, absolutely no mistakes. Unlike usual, he issued the command with firm resolve.
“Come here. Now.”
At last, whimpering and backing away under Bayul's stern voice, Jasper crept over with his tail lowered. His eyes kept flickering uneasily, but he soon settled down obediently.
“Good boy.”
Bayul praised him, gently stroking his brown fur.
“Jasper seems to be barking more than usual today. Has something happened within the castle, perhaps?”
Father Juan, who had been taking out his holy water and preparing the ritual, glanced at Jasper with a puzzled look as he asked.
“No. It's just the rain, I expect.”
“Dear me. I suppose the poor thing must dislike the rain.”
“I'd say it's more that he feels cooped up. It's been coming down for such a long time now.”
For more than ten days the rain had poured without cease, leaving both Jasper and Bayul trapped indoors, filling their days with tedium. If even Bayul — hardly an active sort by nature — felt stifled, one could only imagine how the poor creature must have suffered.
Guard dogs were said to adapt well to indoor life, but Jasper had originally been a hunting breed, one built for life outdoors. If only for the sake of a dog who needed his daily walk, Bayul found himself wishing the rain would end soon.
“That is not all, either — the temple is gravely worried. Even the Bishop, born and raised in Hamilton as he was, says he has never seen rain like this. It was barely months ago that we suffered through a drought, and now... when will it ever let up?”
“I heard several areas have been flooded. Are the people there all safe?”
“Have you not heard? By the Duke's command, the citizens of the lowlands were moved to shelters early on. Thanks to that, everyone was kept out of harm's way. There are a few minor injuries, but thankfully not a single soul has died.”
“Father truly is remarkable.”
He had always been a man who looked several moves ahead. Though to his own son he maintained a cold expression and colder words, in moments like these, respect welled up in Bayul without his willing it.
“Who in the Empire does not know the greatness of Duke Randert? He is a living legend of our era. I am simply honored to serve within his reach.”
Like most of the territory's people, Father Juan was a devotee of his father. Unaware that Bayul's face had stiffened ever so slightly, the priest undid his necklace and dipped it into the holy water.
It was a somewhat unsettling piece — a skull-shaped shield with a sword and spear crossed upon it. Something like an insignia that only the highest-ranking priests among those who served Agos, God of War, were permitted to bear, and it had been with Bayul for as long as he could remember, back to his earliest childhood.
Perhaps that was why.
Whenever he looked at the necklace, Bayul felt a certain comfort. Now that Bayil was gone and he was alone, it was one of the few things left in the world that could bring him peace.
“Shall we begin, then?”
Father Juan turned back with a smile. A moment Bayul had been made to endure countless times since he was small. Praying that this time, too, would pass without incident, he closed his eyes.
2.
“Young Master Bayul, the Lord of the castle wishes to see you.”
Rita had knocked at the door while Bayul was drinking his tea, having just finished his treatment. Jasper, diligently gnawing on jerky at his feet, wagged his tail and trotted over in delight — for Rita was the person Jasper loved second-best in the whole castle, after Bayul himself.
Wait — what?
Bayul thought he must have misheard. His father was looking for him? In the past two years, never mind being summoned — he could count on one hand the number of times he had laid eyes on his father at all.
“...He is waiting downstairs.”
Rita, who a moment ago might well have been fussing over Jasper's head, was now staring at him, her whole body gone stiff. Which meant his ears had not deceived him in the least.
“Then I should take my leave. It would hardly do to take up a busy man's time. Please give the Duke my regards on my behalf.”
He couldn't even manage a proper goodbye. Until Father Juan left the room, Bayul sat motionless in his seat, eyes open but unseeing. He ought to have been glad, of course — his father was seeking him out. And yet, strangely, he could not shake off a creeping sense of foreboding. Nor did that premonition take long to become reality.
“Father...?”
Bayul stared blankly down at the papers his father held out to him.
Admission Recommendation
As if to prove his father's words from a moment ago, it was the words Admission Recommendation that seized Bayul's eyes.
According to the letter, a man named Lockhart Gardner — someone Bayul had never seen or heard of in his life, and who was presumably a person of great consequence — strongly recommended his admission to Carrington Academy, declaring him a talent the Academy sorely needed, a towering tree who would one day shoulder the great works of the Empire.
“All the paperwork is complete. You depart tomorrow.”
“B-but...”
“Your illness is nothing to worry over. The temple is not only to be found here. I have already given the necessary instructions, so when the time comes, you need only pay them a visit.”
“That's not what I meant — the recruitment period for new students has already closed...”
“That matter is resolved.”
Duke Randert coolly cut his son off mid-sentence. It had been a needless worry, after all. Where in the Empire did his father's power not reach? A mere enrollment period could be no obstacle whatsoever.
“Anything else you wonder about?”
When Bayul kept his head bowed in silence for a long while, the Duke asked. At that toneless question, Bayul quietly lifted his eyes and met his father's gaze.
There were plenty of things he wanted to ask. There always were. But once again, as ever, his mouth would not open.
A father who kept his own son at arm's length. Bitter as it was, no one understood that heart better than Bayul himself did.
'Because I'm the one who hurt Father. I'm the one who did wrong...'
Still, it hurt, and there was nothing to be done about that. Calling it academy admission was one thing; in truth it was no different from being cast out. Until now his father had merely avoided him — but now, it seemed, even sharing the same space had become more than he could bear.
'Seeing me must remind him of Bayil.'
“...I'll take my leave, then.”
The Duke did not so much as wish Bayul a safe journey as he rose wearily to his feet. Perhaps that would be no different tomorrow, either. When would he see his father again? A vague dread closed around Bayul's heart.
“I'm sorry, child. There was nothing I could do, either.”
His uncle was waiting outside, having apparently already heard the news. The only one who comforted him, parched as he was for his father's affection. Toward that sorrowful face, Bayul managed a faint, blurred smile.
KWA-KA-BOOM!
Lightning struck again beyond the window. The sheets of rain slamming against the glass seemed to have grown heavier in the meantime.
Will this rain let up by tomorrow?
He almost found himself wishing the flood would burst a bridge or two — but even if it did, Bayul could never defy his father's command. His footsteps toward his room grew heavier with every step.
Chapter 1: If It Cannot Be Avoided
1.
The train clattered to a halt, and Bayul woke to a dull, throbbing ache all through his body. He had lain too long in a single position, and there was not a spot on him that didn't protest.
'What time is it?'
He drew his pocket watch from his pocket, and a crease formed between his brows — a full five hours had slipped past. The rain that had hammered down as if to shatter the windows had stopped at some point. The sky, washed clear and bright, felt oddly unfamiliar today.
“Will you have some water?”
Ian held out a bottle to Bayul. His throat had been parched, so Bayul nodded and took a sip.
“That's refreshing.”
Only as the coolness slid down his throat did his mind begin to clear a little. After wetting his throat once more, Bayul set the bottle down.
“You should eat something as well.”
“I have no appetite.”
“It has been three days. If you leave it any longer, it will spoil.”
Bayul's gaze drifted to the lunch box sitting beside Ian.
It was the one Rita had packed for him three days ago as he left the castle, sobbing loudly all the while. She had made it only with ingredients that would keep well, telling him to eat it on the road if he grew hungry. In his daze, he had completely forgotten it existed.
'Jasper...'
Thinking of Rita, Jasper naturally came to mind.
Is he doing all right?
Is he bleeding somewhere again, or howling his heart out?
In the two years since the pup had come to the castle, the two of them had never once been apart. Not only at night — at meals, at his studies, even on the day of that accident... they had always been together.
Which was exactly why he'd had no choice but to shut Jasper in when he left. The pup had never known a cage in his life, and he would have tried to follow, so there had been nothing else to be done. Naturally, he had struggled desperately to break free, and soon his whole body was covered in wounds.
He had barely calmed down at Bayul's promise to return soon — but how long could he truly hold out?
And can I endure it myself?
He already missed Jasper terribly.
“Please, even a little.”
When Bayul made no reply, Ian pressed once more.
Ian Savage.
He was the escort knight his father had assigned to Bayul. Their paths had crossed before, faces exchanged in passing, but this was the first time they had ever truly spoken.
“If you're hungry, Sir Ian, please have it. I'm truly fine.”
Apologies to Rita, but he had no appetite at all. And there was no way she would ever learn whether Bayul had eaten the lunch box or not. Rather than let her devotion go to waste in the trash, it was better that it end up in someone's belly.
“You skipped breakfast as well.”
Bayul only smiled bitterly. Cast out as he was, what appetite could he possibly have? He had eaten almost nothing in the past three days.
“Then we shall stop by a restaurant first thing upon arrival.”
Ian did not press further, but neither did he meekly give ground. His tone carried the quiet resolve of a man determined to see his duty as an escort knight through to the letter.
Bayul avoided his gaze and turned to look out the window.
“By the way, where are we? The train seems to have stopped for a moment.”
“A small city called Hoian. Carrington is another two or three hours yet.”