The Name His Father Gave Her
Back home at the estate, Bayul soaked himself in a hot bath for a while before changing into dry clothes and heading down to the dining hall.
"Uncle Liam, you're here before me."
"Come in and sit down."
Liam was alone in the dining hall, sipping a pre-meal tea. He smiled at his nephew and gestured him to a seat.
"Where is Father?"
"He has matters to attend to, so he'll be a little late. He told us to eat without him, but I'd rather wait. What do you say, Bayul?"
"Of course. I don't mind waiting either."
"Then have some tea first — no use catching a chill."
Soon a steaming cup of warm tea was set before Bayul as well. He took a careful sip, then asked casually, "Did Father scold you a great deal?"
"Does it show on my face that plainly?"
"No, it's not that, it's just..."
"Don't even ask. I'd have rather been caught the first time I snuck back. The man lectured me half to death. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes."
"...Thank you, Uncle."
At the sudden expression of gratitude, Liam wore a puzzled look, and Bayul explained himself.
"For remembering my brother's memorial day and coming all this way. I'm always grateful, too, for how you look after me as though I were your own son."
"What sort of thanks is that? An uncle honoring his nephew's memorial is simply what he ought to do. Receiving gratitude for it only leaves a bitter taste. Or don't tell me you think like your father does — that I'm a pathetic old man who abandons his post to gawk at a nephew in times like these?"
"What? No! Of course not. I meant every word sincerely. I never once thought anything of the sort!"
"...Well then, thank goodness. I've been rather wounded by your father, you see."
It still seemed to sting, for his uncle's face darkened. Bayul recalled what had happened a little while ago — how, just after they had finished paying their respects to his brother together in the rain, his father had abruptly summoned Uncle Liam.
"Liam. Come out here."
Bayul stood bewildered at his father suddenly calling for his uncle — and then, sure enough, Liam appeared from behind, scratching his head.
"Uncle...?"
This was a man who ought to have been in the imperial capital for the Emperor's wedding. Naturally, Bayul was astonished, and Duke Randert fixed his younger brother with a stern gaze.
"What business brings you here?"
"...You ask when you already know."
"I distinctly recall writing in my letter that there was no need for you to come."
He had laid his groundwork precisely because he'd seen this coming, yet it hadn't worked in the slightest. A sigh escaped him.
"It was Bayil's memorial day. I couldn't bear to think of him spending it alone..."
"I am here, and Bayul is here. Of all times to act so recklessly — have you taken leave of your senses?"
"I took my own precautions before coming. I believed I was doing the right thing. Do you speak as though you don't know how much I loved that boy?"
"......"
"This is truly too much. What on earth did I do so wrong?"
"This is not a conversation to be had here. We will finish it back home."
He could not interrogate his brother any further in front of his son. Duke Randert cut Liam off mid-sentence and turned away first, and Bayul had no choice but to follow behind, quietly watching his uncle's face.
"Truthfully, Father is grateful to you as well. It's only the current situation that has him on edge. Emperor Royan has crossed the border, hasn't he? That's likely made him all the more irritable."
Wanting to comfort his hurt uncle, Bayul explained his father's position on his behalf.
"So now I'm wrong to speak my mind, and you side with your father, is that it?"
"...Pardon?"
"Goodness, you looked as though you'd seen a ghost. I'm joking, boy. Do you think I don't understand your father's heart? It's only that it stings now and then. You needn't trouble yourself over it — being scolded by him is something I've done since I was your age."
"Has he, truly?"
"You didn't know?"
Duke Randert had inherited his title early as the eldest son, owing to their father's untimely passing. Liam, born considerably later, had grown up with their brother scolding him in their parents' stead.
"And yet his scoldings always carried love in them. I grumbled plenty, but knowing that is why I never rebelled — and why I turned out as well as I did."
Liam thumped his own chest and gave a faint smile.
"There was one time, though, when he frightened me with a scolding unlike anything before. He was so utterly changed that it genuinely startled me."
"What could have brought that on?"
"...I wonder if I should even be telling you this."
"......?"
"I opposed him. That was all."
"Opposed him?"
"Yes. About your mother."
Bayul nearly dropped his teacup in shock. When he found himself unable to speak, Liam went on, his face apologetic, as though making an excuse.
"I had my reasons, mind you. We had all been worrying because he remained a bachelor for so long — and then out of nowhere he appears with a woman of unknown origins and unknown pedigree, announcing his intent to marry. It struck me as utterly absurd."
Even their father and mother, had they been alive, would surely have opposed the match just as fiercely. Before the Ten-Year War broke out, the Randerts had been an unremarkable count's house on the frontier — but by then, the name of Randert already reached the heavens. At a time when marriage inquiries were flying in from every noble house in the empire, Duke Randert had taken as his wife a commoner orphan. To his younger brother Liam, it was nothing short of the world turned upside down.
"I understand how you felt, Uncle."
"...Do you mean that?"
A man of national-treasure caliber had appeared like a comet. Rumors were already rife that his title would rise to that of duke once the war ended. His swordsmanship, having reached the very threshold of the divine, was one thing — but he was a first-marriage prospect besides, with looks, character, and pedigree all in generous measure. There could have been no more splendid a match in the entire empire.
And an unnamed woman from a remote mountain village had claimed him. In a way, it was only natural that the empire had been thrown into an uproar.
"This is what your father said to me then."
'Say one more ill word about Ivette, and no matter that you are my brother, I will never look upon you again.'
"It was the most frightening thing he ever said to me in all my life."
"...You must have been so hurt."
"Well, I was, a little, at the time."
But it was all long past now. He had felt a brief pang of gloom, wondering if love could be crueler than blood, but in the end Ivette had proven a fine woman.
"In any case, from that day on I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't very well go through life avoiding my own brother."
Hoping to lighten the heavy mood, Liam gave a playful, winking smile.
"And only after some time had passed did I come to realize that I'd been the one harboring prejudice."
"Prejudice?"
"Indeed. Your mother was a wonderful woman."
Liam's gaze deepened, as though recalling something.
"I came to understand your father's choice. Looking back, I think perhaps a woman like her was exactly what he needed."
"What kind of person was my mother? Other than that she loved rain in a way no one else did, and that she laughed often?"
"Hmm... where should I even begin?"
To Liam, Ivette had seemed a woman dropped from the sky — someone his brother had simply brought home one day. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on her, the subject of nothing but whispers and rumors, and being taken aback because her bearing and beauty were so far from ordinary that he'd assumed she must be the noble daughter of some exalted house.
"Is there nothing at all that comes to mind? Some particular memory?"
"Mm..."
"Do you happen to know where Father first met my mother?"
"I don't know precisely, but somewhere near the Canyon Mountain Range, most likely. He was on the road back from a campaign at the time. He stopped in at a small village along the way, and that's where he found her. It was there, too, that your father gave your mother her name with his own lips."
"...He gave her her name? My father, you mean?"
It was a story he had never heard before.
Everyone, without exception, was born with a name. It was a law that applied equally whether one was born to high station or low.
Then why had his father been the one to name his mother?
Did that mean his mother had had no name at all?
Why...?
"......!"
As though struck by lightning, a chill ran down Bayul's spine.
Giving someone a name.
Because it was exactly what Bayul had done for his spirits.
Innocent, Shame, Tempesta. All three had been nameless, and Bayul had named them himself.
'Don't tell me Mother was...!'
"I can't say for certain, but I imagine your father thought the name she'd been called by was rather crude. Since she'd be a duchess, he must have decided a more refined name was in order."
"Ah... I suppose that could be it."
A change of name — that possibility hadn't even occurred to him.
"Then what was my mother's original name, I wonder..."
Bayul was murmuring to himself in a dazed voice when Duke Randert, having finished his business, stepped into the dining hall.
"What conversation has the two of you looking so serious?"
"Just exchanging pleasantries. Won't you have some tea first?"
"No need. I'm hungry."
At the duke's single word, the meal was served at once. Freshly baked soft bread, steaming soup, crisp vegetables — the table filled with dishes that looked every bit as tempting as they smelled.
"Being called to the imperial capital of all times — right in the middle of the holidays — must weigh on your father's heart. The two of you ought to be making up for lost time together, and here comes His Majesty's wedding, of all things..."
"We've already made up for it, actually."
"...Oh. Have you, now?"
Liam knew better than anyone that the father and son had been distant. Yet even back at the riverbank, when they had gone to pay respects to Bayil, the air between them had somehow felt different than before.
"I should be able to remain until just before you return to Carrington. Look after Hamilton well in my absence."
"Yes, Father. Don't give this place a thought — travel safely."
It wasn't as though Bayul didn't wish to stay by his father's side. But the imperial court of this very moment needed him there without question. Only his father, Bayul believed, could hold Emperor Royan's schemes at bay.
"It's been a long while since the three of us shared a meal like this."
"It certainly has."
"Father, once you return, why not hold a meal with Uncle's family as well?"
"With my family?"
"Yes, Uncle. Your wife — and I haven't seen Brother Derek or my cousins in ages, either."
Liam had one son and two daughters. Having married before his elder brother, all three were older than Bayul. His eldest daughter had married and lived in another territory, while his son and second daughter resided with him in Hamilton.
"A fine idea. Once I'm back from the capital, Liam, you arrange a gathering. At this rate I'll forget my own nephew's face."
"Yes, Brother. I'll see to it."
While Bayil had been alive, the two households had exchanged visits often, but since his passing, it was only Liam who came and went. It was a small consideration on his part — a fear that seeing the boy might bring his lost son back to his brother's mind.
"Now that the subject's come up — Bayul."
Duke Randert set down his utensils and looked steadily at his son.
"When your father is away, you are the master of this castle. Should a situation arise that demands a decision, act on your convictions without hesitation. Whatever the outcome, I trust you. You understand what I mean by that?"
"Yes, Father. Don't worry."
The torrential rains had been setting off incidents large and small in rapid succession. With both himself and his brother absent, any mishap that occurred would inevitably fall to Bayul to answer for.
It sat uneasily with Duke Randert, placing so heavy a burden on his young son, if only for a while — but he chose to trust his child.
That trust would make his son grow all the more. As his own father had done for him, so the duke resolved to do.
"One last thing."
Duke Randert spoke with pointed emphasis, a meaningful light in his eyes.
"Are you sure you're up for it?"
"Tonight will not go as easily for you as before."
He was ready to avenge the humiliation of three defeats in three matches. To the duke's ironclad resolve, Bayul answered with a knowing smile.
"If Father truly wants it, I'll have to oblige. I look forward to it."
"Heh heh, you rascal. I'll show you just what happens to those who underestimate their opponent."
Bayul's taunt set Duke Randert's competitive spirit blazing. Yet whether duke or son, both their faces were unmistakably alight with enjoyment.
"......"
Oblivious to Liam's sidelong look of quiet bewilderment, the father and son spent the rest of the evening trading banter across the table, savoring their dinner together.