A Letter from the Crown Prince
Dear my friend Bayul,
Hello, Bayul.
Were you surprised? You never imagined I would send a letter, did you? I can picture the look on your flustered face already.
I heard the Academy is on break, so I gather you are in your hometown of Hamilton right now. I know how much you wanted to spend time with Duke Randert, and it grieves me that my dear mother's marriage has kept father and son apart. Allow me to apologize in her stead. I hope there will be a chance to make it up to you in person.
Bayul, I don't know how you feel, but I find myself thinking of you from time to time. When I imagine the adventures you must be enjoying in Carrington with the friends you hold so dear, I confess I'm rather envious. I used to dream of such moments myself, after all.
Oh, and I heard about Jared's expulsion some time ago. That Chairman of yours seems to handle matters with remarkable efficiency. He's one of the people I'd like to meet if I ever make it to Carrington — after you, of course. You will always hold the first place in my esteem.
Provided my dear mother does not change her mind about granting permission, I expect to arrive in time for the autumn festival. I wonder how much you've grown in the meantime. A rare escape from the capital — I'm both looking forward to it and positively thrilled.
I won't be able to stay long, but I hope to build precious memories with you while I'm there. Until then, take good care of yourself, and do well on your midterm exams.
I will send an official notice to the Academy separately, but I would like you and your friends to serve as my ceremonial attendants. You'll grant me this favor, won't you?
Then — see you in Carrington.
Awaiting the day we meet, from Vergara, Arkin.
"Has he lost his mind? Who does he think he is, wanting to meet the Chairman?"
In the dead of night, when everyone else was fast asleep, Bayul and his friends sat gathered in the cabin in the Forest of Corruption, reading together the Crown Prince's letter Bayul had brought with him.
At the Crown Prince Lindemann's stated wish to meet the Chairman, Eli's face crumpled in genuine, outright disbelief.
"So what if he's the Crown Prince? He thinks he can just meet anyone he pleases?"
"Actually, I'm pretty sure he can."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
At Aidan's remark, Eli lit twin flames of irritation in his eyes and glared at his friend.
"He's the Crown Prince. Second only to the Emperor in the entire Empire. What can't he do?"
"You think I'm saying this because I don't know that? Did you forget what kind of man the Chairman is? You think that guy would handle the Crown Prince properly? Any mess that comes up is going to be a big one!"
"…Eli, are you worried about the Chairman right now?"
"Are you insane? I'm worried about us, us! What if the sparks from that fire fly onto our heads!"
The end of the Crown Prince's letter had asked Bayul and his friends to serve as his ceremonial attendants. They had no choice but to play host, plain and simple. If the Crown Prince's mood soured thanks to some blunder by the Chairman, they would be the ones who suffered for it.
"So there goes any free time during the festival."
"Did you have something you wanted to do, Quinn?"
"No, nothing in particular. But apparently there's something I have to do now."
It was the Crown Prince's visit, no less. From security to meals to festival sightseeing, the things that would demand their attention were far too many to count. The imperial knights would of course be handling his escort, so that at least required no worry — it was everything else that was the problem. How on earth they could satisfy a Crown Prince accustomed to the lavish life of the imperial palace — that was the great challenge of them all.
"What about your riding competition? Can you still manage it?"
"Obviously we're competing! Do you know how much prize money is on the line? You think I'd give that up?"
Aidan insisted fiercely that this, at least, was non-negotiable.
"And you, Logan?"
"I already submitted my application to Professor Genet."
Logan, too, clearly intended to compete.
"So the two of you are going to race each other. The kids were already placing bets on you, money and all — maybe I should put something down myself."
"A word of advice: betting on me would be better for your finances."
While Logan brushed it off with a laugh, as though the outcome were no concern of his either way, Aidan puffed out his chest and confidently declared his own victory.
"Lanasa won't be easy competition. Aren't you being a little too sure of yourself? Oh, that reminds me — what are you going to do, Bayul? Professor Genet recommended the horse race to you today, didn't she? Are you entering?"
"Well… I think I'll sit that one out."
"Say what? Why?"
"It wouldn't be entirely my own strength. I'd only ride well because of Tempesta's help. Racing against everyone like that just doesn't feel right to me."
"You mean it feels like cheating?"
"If I had to put it plainly — yes, that's how it feels."
Glancing around to confirm that Tempesta was nowhere in sight, Bayul answered with an awkward smile. Knowing Tempesta's temper, he would have taken the word "cheating" very personally indeed.
"I'm not trying to poke holes in your logic, but I think your spirits are part of your skill. It's your unique ability — just like being a Tamer is mine."
By Bayul's reasoning, Aidan could just as well be accused of cheating. It was, after all, his innate gift doing the work.
"No, Aidan, it's different with you. I'm getting help from a third party, while you, as a Tamer, commune with animals as part of who you are."
"Sounds about the same to me."
"Not the same at all."
The spirits were simply invisible to others, that was all. To Bayul, entering the race would have been an unfair treatment of his friends.
"Doesn't seem all that important anyway. Let's leave that decision for later. How about we figure out what to do about the Crown Prince or whoever he is first?"
Eli's expression remained sour, still clearly displeased by the whole visit.
"Ease up, Eli. At least we all hate Jared's guts the same way you do."
"There are more people in this Academy who hate him than I could count. Finding someone who likes him would be harder."
"Still, the fact that the Crown Prince is pleased about Jared's expulsion — I don't know about you, but I find that pretty satisfying. That guy's going to inherit his father's dukedom someday. How entertaining would it be to watch the Crown Prince chew him out right there in the capital?"
Having suffered so much at Jared's hands, Aidan still gritted his teeth at the mere mention of the guy. Sometimes he even regretted the expulsion. It had cost him the chance to pay the boy back, over and over, for years to come.
"I do wonder what he's up to these days."
"I heard he transferred to Marseilles Academy."
At Logan's abrupt remark, every head turned toward him. It was news to everyone.
"…Marseilles?"
"That's the Academy in the imperial capital, isn't it?"
"He got in there? Seriously?"
Logan nodded in confirmation.
"I did a little digging. I figured hiring that assassin might have consequences."
"Oh ho, look at you. Were you that worried about our safety?"
"It went beyond worrying. There was no guarantee something like that wouldn't happen again."
"You didn't tell Count Seymour about any of this, did you, Logan?"
"Don't worry. I handled it without my father knowing."
Logan still believed the adults ought to be informed, but he could not break his promise to Bayul. And so all he could do was keep watch over whatever scheme Jared might attempt next.
"Duke Hector is something else, though. Since he has no idea what disaster his son might cause next, he's just buried the boy in the imperial capital where he can't move. Must be driving him absolutely mad."
"We can only hope he manages to graduate in one piece."
It went without saying. People don't change easily. That boy was bound to cause a catastrophe or two even there.
"Whatever happens to that guy is no concern of mine, so let's move on — what are we doing about the Crown Prince? Do we really have to do this attendant thing?"
"His Highness wrote to me personally and asked. You all might be able to refuse, but I can't."
The only people the Crown Prince could rely on here were Bayul and Professor Rothius.
Even without him, the Crown Prince could attend the festival without any real trouble — but Bayul knew that wasn't what he wanted. What he needed was a friend his own age.
"If you really hate it, Eli, you can sit out."
He had no wish to force anyone. The Crown Prince's letter had mentioned his friends as well, but a word of explanation would surely be understood.
"With no telling what the Chairman might pull, you think I can just bow out? The only person who can keep that man in check is, annoyingly enough, me."
And so Eli, too, was joining the ceremonial party.
"When I go to that house this weekend, I'll have to give him a firm talking-to."
A deal was a deal, and it had to be honored. Returning to that man's lair was a fate worse than death, but Eli had no other option. He would simply have to endure it with the sight of Fio as his consolation.
"Since you're going anyway, bring back some information on the new professors. I'm dying to know."
"Why are you so curious about professors from the Divinity and Magic Departments? You don't even take their classes."
"You said the people around the Chairman are all a strange lot, didn't you? I just want to see how strange."
Aidan was, honestly speaking, almost looking forward to it. He wanted a preview of what kind of vitality these newcomers might breathe into the Academy.
"You'll find out soon enough if you just wait. For now, let's focus on studying for the exams. You can only enjoy the festival if your grades actually hold up."
The elevation of the spirits, stalled since Bayul's chest pains, remained on hold, and with exams and the festival crowding their days, even the night training had come to a stop.
Just as Eli had said, what they needed to prioritize now was exam preparation. There would be plenty of time to discuss the Crown Prince's visit afterward.
Chapter 9 — The New Professors
The week flew by. Every evening, Bayul and his friends gathered at the cabin and threw themselves into exam prep. Having idled away the entire break, they found the new semester far from easy to settle into — and with exams and the festival to prepare for at the same time, the days only grew busier.
"Young Master Bayul!"
And then, right on schedule, the weekend arrived, and Bayul returned to the manor where Rita and the Death brothers were waiting. As always, Rita came bounding out the moment the carriage pulled up before the house. Behind her, Ian could be seen bowing in greeting.
"Rita, have you been well?"
"Of course! Was it hard for you, Young Master? How was the cafeteria food? Your head must be aching from hitting the books again?"
The moment Rita laid eyes on him, the questions came pouring out.
"I'm fine. The cafeteria food was good, and studying is actually kind of fun. So you don't need to worry."
Bayul smiled and answered each of Rita's questions without skipping a single one.
"But where are the Death brothers? Did you send them on an errand?"
"No, they're all inside."
"…Really, now?"
They were the ones who used to come out to greet him every weekend, if not with full fanfare. Which was why Bayul felt puzzled — and, inwardly, a little disappointed.
"They're completely preoccupied eating right now."
"Ah, they're having lunch?"
Usually they waited to eat with him after he arrived, so they must have been terribly hungry.
"I'd call it more of an appetizer than lunch, actually."
"What dish did you make them?"
"I didn't make it."
"Huh?"
If Rita hadn't cooked it, then who had?
When Bayul tilted his head at that, Rita lowered her voice.
"Young Master, don't be alarmed. Bar has finally started making food that a human can actually eat."
"…So what you're telling me is that Death and Amon are eating a dish Bar made right now?"
Bayul couldn't help but be stunned. He was more astonished than he had been reading the Crown Prince's letter.
Was this not the same Bar who had been showered with every rebuke imaginable for making nothing but inedible slop, and had even lost an arm for it?
It was Bar's signature mystery that even copying Rita exactly, step for step, produced something bizarrely foul.
Had progress finally been made?
His curiosity burning, Bayul's footsteps quickened as he headed into the manor.