A Letter from Vergara
The moment the final class ended, Bayul hurried straight to Professor Rothius's office. He had scoured every library within the castle walls during the break, yet not a single book on spirits was to be found. Perhaps the professor had brought something back from the imperial archives again — and as it happened, the Emperor's wedding had just taken place.
"Whew."
Before knocking on the office door, Bayul took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
He had worried that the professor might not have returned yet, but mercifully, Rothius's voice drifted out from within. Bayul wasted no time, hurriedly opening the door and stepping inside.
"Hello, Professor."
"Ah, Bayul. Good to see you. This is the first time we've met like this since the semester started, isn't it? Did you enjoy your break?"
The professor's office was as cluttered as ever and heavy with the smell of tobacco, but perhaps because it had been so long, even that felt oddly welcoming.
"Yes, I visited my hometown and got some proper rest. And how was your trip, Professor?"
"Are you asking about my trip to Vergara?"
It had been the Emperor's third wedding. The bride was the daughter of Marquis Voytek, whose family was now tied by marriage to Duke Hector — the very faction that stood in opposition to Crown Prince Lindemann.
For Rothius, it was his brother's wedding, something he ought to congratulate — yet it was also a situation that forced him to worry about the safety of his nephew, the Crown Prince.
Apart from whether the professor had brought any books on spirits, Bayul wanted to know what the atmosphere had been like that day. All the more so because he had come to Carrington without seeing his father first.
"Well, it was loud and boisterous. Far too many delegations showed up, if you ask me."
"I heard Emperor Royan attended in person."
"Did your father say nothing about it?"
"That is... I came without seeing him."
"...I see?"
Curious as he was about the reason, Rothius chose not to press. He merely assumed his student must have had circumstances of his own.
"Then I suppose you have no idea what happened at the imperial party."
"Something happened?"
"I'm talking about the meeting between Duke Randert and Emperor Royan. Quite a few of the students already know, but they seem to have been careful about their words around you."
It wasn't as though the nobles who had attended the Emperor's wedding could be counted on one hand. A considerable number of their children were students at Carrington Academy, and naturally, each of them had heard from their parents about the incident where Duke Randert and Emperor Royan had nearly come to armed blows.
"My father is unharmed, isn't he?"
"Of course he is. You needn't worry about that in the slightest."
When a flicker of worry crossed Bayul's face, Professor Rothius smiled reassuringly.
"If anything, I'm worried about Emperor Royan."
"...Pardon?"
"Duke Randert delivered a rather terrifying warning."
And so he gave the bewildered Bayul a brief account of what had taken place at the wedding banquet.
"...My father truly did that?"
Was such a thing even possible?
...Well, then again.
But his astonishment was short-lived. Come to think of it, his father had once held back a landslide with nothing but a single sword. The memory of the father's greatness he had witnessed during the tour of the estate over the break surfaced anew. A man like that could just as easily bring down an entire building rather than merely the ground beneath it.
Emperor Royan had taken countless lives. A man like that deserved a warning far more unmistakable. Bayul felt proud of his father.
"Everyone was so stunned they couldn't move for a good while. For Emperor Royan, it must have been a humiliation he'll never forget. From where I stood, it was thoroughly satisfying."
"I wonder what kind of face he made."
"Hoho, and here I thought you were nothing but a gentle soul. You really are your father's son, through and through."
"The Ten-Year War spilled far too much blood across the continent. I believe Emperor Royan must pay for it, without fail."
"That's right. Countless died — not only soldiers, but innocent commoners and powerless children besides."
A look of sorrow settled over Rothius's eyes as well.
"But Bayul, the world is fair. One day, Emperor Royan will taste that punishment in full."
"When will that be?"
"Hmm... you'd be better off asking your father about that, I'd think?"
The reason the Dwyer Empire, which had once flaunted ambitions of conquering the continent, had remained quiet all this time rested squarely on Duke Randert's shoulders. No matter how greatly its military might had withered compared to days past, many nations across the continent still feared the Dwyer Empire's power.
Which was precisely why the Dwyer Empire had no choice but to lean on the Polska Empire, where Duke Randert still stood strong.
And more than that — because Duke Randert possessed the ability to reign above all men, yet used that power solely to protect, the people of the continent revered and looked up to him all the more.
"I hope nothing as terrible as the Ten-Year War ever happens again."
"Naturally, I feel the same."
"But if the situation ever arose where Father had to punish Emperor Royan, wouldn't that amount to something very similar?"
"Is that why you're worried?"
"...Because he's my father."
No matter how legendary the man was called, to his son Bayul, he could only ever be a source of anxiety. A peaceful world, free of war and strife. Bayul prayed for such days to come, sometimes, and wished for them with all his heart.
"I know. I understand how you feel."
Before nations and continents, they were family first. Born a son of the imperial house himself, how could Rothius not know exactly what that felt like?
"Truth be told, I'm in much the same boat as you. My brother went and remarried, and now everything feels uneasy."
The professor's expression darkened, just for a heartbeat.
"...You mean Crown Prince Lindemann, don't you?"
Rothius did not answer, but his face said enough.
The boy was next in line for the throne. To the Emperor, he was the legitimate son and only heir.
But if a son were born of the new wife, that uniqueness would vanish.
The current Emperor was still young and hale. By the time he would have to pass on the throne, any new prince would very likely have come of age — a scenario that boded ill for Crown Prince Lindemann.
"I've heard His Majesty is a wise man. And the Crown Prince has you and my father at his side. There's nothing worth worrying over."
"My, how very certain you sound."
"If I may presume to say so — the Crown Prince Lindemann I met was not only worthy of inheriting the throne beyond any doubt, but possessed of the skill to match it, and a splendid character besides. I'm certain many ministers will follow him."
In truth, Bayul had never given the matter much thought — not until he had visited the imperial palace as part of the royal delegation and met Crown Prince Lindemann.
Attending the Crown Prince's coming-of-age celebration, he had inevitably overheard a great deal of chatter, and in the course of it found himself discussing the political landscape with his friends as well.
Bayul fully understood his professor's heart, worried as he was for his nephew — but it was simply unthinkable that the next Emperor could be anyone other than Crown Prince Lindemann. Such a thing would never happen. Nor should it ever.
"Perhaps you'll become one of those ministers yourself, hmm?"
"...Me?"
"What, no interest in politics?"
"It's not that, exactly... it's just something I've never really considered..."
He was only sixteen, after all. Graduation from the Academy was still a long way off, and at present, every ounce of his attention was consumed by the spirits.
Bayul, too, was the heir of a ducal house who would one day, like Crown Prince Lindemann, have to succeed his father. He supposed vaguely that such a day would come eventually — but that was as far as the thought ever went.
"You'll make a fine vassal someday, I'm sure. You resemble your father far too much not to."
Professor Rothius gave a small grin, then abruptly rose to his feet.
"I suppose that's why he asked me to pass this along, then?"
"Pardon?"
The professor walked over to his desk, picked something up, and promptly returned to Bayul's side.
"Here. Take it."
"What is this?"
What he held out was an object wrapped in silk. As Bayul instinctively accepted it and asked, the professor jerked his chin toward it as if to say, open it yourself.
After a moment's hesitation, Bayul tilted his head and carefully undid the knot binding the silk.
"...Is it a drawing?"
Swish — the silk fell away, revealing a round, yellowed roll of paper.
"We'll see."
With the professor still holding his silence, Bayul slowly unrolled the paper. And the next moment, he was more startled than he had ever been in his life.
"...!"
And small wonder — the thing was a letter. Amid the densely written lines, the phrase at the very top and the one at the very bottom set Bayul's heart pounding wildly.
Dear my friend Bayul,
...
I look forward to the day we meet. — Akin, in Vergara
"Vergara...?"
Meeting Bayul's wavering gaze, Professor Rothius spoke.
"Akin is the name I usually call my nephew in private. Lindemann Akin Phenoyst Moore. That's his full name."
So that was it. What Rothius had handed to Bayul was a personal letter from Crown Prince Lindemann himself. The prince had sent a missive to Bayul through his uncle.
"...Is His Highness the Crown Prince doing well?"
Perhaps he was simply too taken aback by the unexpected letter — Bayul ended up asking a thoroughly foolish question.
"Wouldn't you know once you read the letter for yourself?"
"Ah..."
"You'll find out soon enough, but I'm curious what expression you'll make, so I'm telling you in advance."
Apparently finding Bayul's flustered state amusing, the corners of Rothius's mouth twitched.
"So he's coming, that boy."
By that boy, he meant Crown Prince Lindemann. But what followed made no sense at all.
"...Coming where, exactly?"
"Where do you think? Right here, where you and I are."
"...Pardon?"
"He's always wanted to visit, you see. His status held him back every time, but it seems he's finally managed to force the matter through this once."
"You can't mean... His Highness is visiting Carrington Academy?"
"That's what I'm saying. It's all written there in the letter, no?"
"Wh-when?"
Faced with a development he had never once imagined, Bayul could only keep blurting out dazed questions.
"The Autumn Festival. He's coming at the point in the year when the Academy is at its liveliest. My dear nephew — you'll give him a warm welcome, won't you?"
Professor Rothius asked, but Bayul could not give a crisp answer.
The Crown Prince is coming here?
He had gladly agreed to be the prince's friend, but this was truly a development beyond anything he had foreseen. Much as he felt guilty toward his professor, the truth was that what filled Bayul's heart was not joy, but worry and unease.