The Question Only Father Could Answer
"I-I don't know…… me either!"
"What in the world is going on……!"
Confused, Bayul clutched his head. His mother had died. And yet there had been nothing. She had vanished without a trace, the way rain vanishes into the earth, leaving nothing behind.
How was he supposed to interpret that? Was it simply a figure of mourning — a way of honoring a young woman whose life had ended too soon? Or was he spiraling into paranoid delusion? A person who died with no body left behind made no sense at all. He had heard it clearly: Mother's funeral had been conducted just as quietly as the wedding had been.
But a funeral couldn't be held without a body. No — forget all that. What reason was there to believe she had even died, if there was no body to be found? Rita's single sentence — that there had been nothing — sent shockwaves through Bayul's mind. His thoughts tangled into a knot in an instant, a thousand questions gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.
Bayul, does it hurt a lot?
Innocent drifted closer and spoke to him.
"Young master…… are you all right?"
"Woof! Woof!"
Rita and Jasper, worried in their own ways, began to pace restlessly around him.
"Haaah."
Bayul let out a long breath and rubbed his temples with both hands. His head felt like it was about to burst. The more he learned about his mother, the more baffling she became — until now he was questioning her very identity. Could his mother possibly be a water spirit? The absurd thought seized him the moment he looked at Innocent. The pale skin, the flowing blue hair, eyes an even deeper blue than the hair itself. Now that he thought about it, Innocent and his mother looked remarkably alike. They both loved the rain. Neither of them ever seemed to mind the cold.
Was that why he had become a Spirit User — because he was her son? But then why only him……? Bayil existed too. Why had all of this happened to him alone?
You mustn't be in pain. If you hurt, I hurt too.
Innocent's cool, refreshing energy touched his forehead. For all the childish tantrums the spirit threw, there were moments like this when he behaved like a wise old soul — one of the many reasons Bayul couldn't help but adore him.
Thank you, Innocent.
As the chill spread through him, his mind slowly began to clear. The agitation didn't vanish entirely, but he willed himself to settle, little by little, until at last he spoke.
"I need to ask Father."
"……I'm sorry, what?"
Bayul's abrupt declaration made Rita stumble back a step in shock.
"You can't mean you intend to ask the lord about the madam?"
"I do. I don't see any other way."
"But……"
"I know it will be painful for him."
When Bayul was small, Father had at least occasionally spoken of Mother, but at some point the two of them had become a father and son who no longer exchanged a single word on the subject.
"Is this really the right thing to do?"
He had no wish to make his father suffer. But the desire to learn the truth about his mother had only grown stronger. Sixteen years had passed. Surely, in all that time, Father's heart had healed at least a little? They could not go on living like this forever. And the only person in the world who could untangle this suffocating knot was his father.
"Young Master Bayil's memorial day is coming up soon……"
"I know. That's what troubles me too……"
The timing was wretchedly awkward. The moment the memorial passed, Father was scheduled to depart for the imperial capital at once, which meant Bayul had precious little time to spare.
"Am I being too selfish?"
No matter how he turned it over, there was no other way to learn about his mother than to ask his father outright. His mind was made up — and yet of course he hesitated.
"You are never selfish, young master. You always put the lord first. I know that better than anyone."
"Rita……"
"Yes, the lord will struggle with it. But you are his son. You have every right to know about the madam."
"……Every right to know?"
"Exactly. So if you're going to do it, don't dance around it — ask him plainly and firmly. Then the lord will answer you. I'm sure of it."
Rita had spent sixteen years at Bayul's side. From a childhood so early she could barely remember it, she had served the twin young masters here in the duchy. On the subject of Bayul, she could speak with more confidence than anyone alive.
"Selfish people don't worry about others. They're too busy looking after themselves. I have never once seen you wear that face."
For the first time, the young master who had lived crushed beneath the guilt of his brother Bayil's death was trying to do something for himself. It worried her, of course — but she wanted nothing more than to cheer him on. If he could just find a little more courage and reach out to the lord, they could become the tender father and son they had once been. That was all Rita wished for.
Knock, knock.
"Young Master Bayul, the lord requests your presence."
A servant's voice sounded from outside the door. Bayul and Rita whipped around to stare at each other like miscreants caught red-handed in some secret scheme.
"Why on earth would he call for me now?"
"I have no idea."
I'm not ready yet……
He had only just managed to make up his mind. He'd assumed he had at least two or three days before facing his father. A summons like this was nowhere in his plan.
He descended the stairs as slowly as he could possibly manage. Straining to hold on to his composure, Bayul pushed open the door to his father's office.
"There you are."
"You called for me, Father."
Inside, besides his father, sat one other man — Sadad, the Duke's adjutant knight.
"Sir Sadad, you're here as well."
"Yes, my lord. I came to discuss an audience at court."
"Ah — the Emperor's wedding."
"Indeed. As you've no doubt heard, young master, Emperor Royan's visit has thrown the entire empire into an uproar. It was entirely unannounced, so there are a great many arrangements that now need careful review."
"You're saying Emperor Royan himself is coming to the imperial capital as the envoy of the Dwyer Empire?"
It was news so incredible it made him forget, for the moment, all his earlier unease. Who was Royan? Anyone who had so much as glanced at a history of the Ten-Year War could not possibly fail to know the name. Before he was Emperor of Dwyer, he was the man who had dyed the continent in blood. The architect of the Ten-Year War itself — a vicious schemer, a viperous strategist.
"Ah. So you hadn't heard yet."
"Is it safe to let him come?"
"Every conceivable precaution is being taken."
Precautions, no doubt, concerning the security of the palace and the empire at large.
"……You'll be busier than ever, then, Father."
"Does my boy worry for me?"
"Yes."
It was not that he doubted his father's ability. This was a man who had climbed to the very summit of the sword — the rank of Sword Meister. No one on the continent today could likely best him by force of arms. Bayul had never actually witnessed his father draw a blade, but he carried a blind, unshakable faith in him all the same.
The problem was Emperor Royan. This was the man who had plunged the continent into a decade of darkness for the sake of his own ambition. Who knew what he might attempt next? If he truly wished for reconciliation, it would have been more than sufficient to send envoys through his subordinates. Royan's personal visit was, to Bayul, simply incomprehensible.
"You need not concern yourself. Even when he held the numerical advantage, he could not defeat me."
"I know that."
The Battle of Lennox, where Duke Randert had crushed the Mercenary King Barachel, had been fought against an enemy force more than twice their number — a desperate, reckless engagement in which victory had been anything but guaranteed, even for a man like Duke Randert. And yet the outcome had been a magnificent triumph. Under the Duke's leadership, the Full Moon Knight Order's exploits had carried the imperial army to victory, and in the end, to nothing less than an unconditional surrender.
"However, my lord, Royan is an exceptionally sharp man. Even if he cannot touch you by force, there is no telling what kind of scheme he may weave."
"And you knew all this yourself, did you?"
"……Pardon?"
"You speak the truth. Royan is a cunning one. It occurs to me, suddenly, that I wonder how the man has changed in all the years I haven't seen him."
Back then, his face had been that of an oddly youthful young man — younger than his reputation warranted. A dozen-odd years had passed since. He would be a seasoned man now.
"Father, is it true you crippled his father?"
Duke Randert answered only with a silent nod. He could have killed Barachel where he stood. He chose not to. It was so that the man, gazing upon the broken ruin of his own body, would remember his sins and repent of them for the rest of his days — a kind of punishment, in other words: never repeat what you have done.
"Even setting the war aside entirely, he will never forgive you, Father. Not after what you made of his father."
"I expect the meeting will be an uncomfortable one."
"You must be careful around him."
"……?"
"If I were in his place, I could never quietly let things stand with the man who did that to my father."
"Is that so?"
The corners of the Duke's mouth curved up, ever so slightly, as he looked at his son. He did not dislike the concern. If anything, he felt quietly proud. Only yesterday the boy had seemed nothing but a child — and now he had grown enough to worry for his father. Couldn't let it stand, would I……?
'Heh.'
Brash words, perhaps, to come out of Bayul's mouth.
"You must feel very secure, my lord, with such a son."
Sadad wore an expression of open envy.
"This year, I'm determined to succeed in the child-rearing business myself! I'll raise a son as fine as Young Master Bayul!"
"Shouldn't you manage a marriage first?"
Planning for children before he'd even taken a wife — the man was absurd. Bayul seriously wondered whether there was even a woman anywhere in the picture.
"Just wait and see. This is my year, I can feel it!"
"I believe you said exactly that last year."
He was a perfectly presentable man. Why on earth he couldn't manage romance had long since become one of Bayul's genuine mysteries.
"In any case, Bayul — I understand your worries well enough. But nothing will come of it, so keep your mind at ease. The imperial capital holds far more allies of ours than anything else. Remember that."
"……Yes, Father."
Bayul suspected he would not be able to rest easy until Royan had returned to his homeland. But he could hardly let it show in front of his father. Not wishing to add to his father's burdens, he forced a smile.
"We've drifted a bit off course, though. The reason I called for you is that I need a few days of your time."
"My time?"
"Yes. Would that be a problem?"
"Of course not. It's the holidays."
It wasn't as though he had anything pressing to do.
"What is it you need me for, Father?"
"I intend to make a progress tour of the territory — four days or so. I would like you to accompany me. What say you?"
"……You mean, with you, Father?"
"You don't object, do you?"
Reading something into his son's stunned expression, the Duke asked again.
A progress tour of the territory, together with his father. The unexpected proposal left Bayul momentarily speechless — but beneath the silence, he was happier than he had been in a long, long time.
If he let slip this chance to grow closer to his father, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
"Of course! I want to go more than anything!"
Bayul nodded his head and answered with all his heart.