Sparks Over the Plaza
Bang! Whooosh-bang!
Wham-bang! Bang-bang-bang!
Perhaps because the Crown Prince himself had graced the occasion, this year's fireworks were unusually dazzling and grand. Compared to last year, they were beyond comparison in both quality and sheer volume.
"Looks like the Chairman's been spending a bit of money."
"He's always had a taste for anything shiny."
Bayul and his friends, having finished their official duties for the day, stood in a corner of the plaza gazing up at the night sky. Fireworks of every color blooming against the black expanse was a truly spectacular sight.
"Nobody dislikes fireworks, right?"
"I suppose that's probably true. Why do you ask?"
At his friends' puzzled looks, Bayul pointed a finger skyward. "Because Spinel's been working awfully hard up there."
"Whoa! Seriously?"
"This fireworks display is Spinel's work? So the Chairman didn't actually spend money on it?"
"Not all of it, but he's lending a hand?"
"Unbelievable! I knew something was off! I've lived in Carrington all this time — do you really think I'd never seen fireworks before? It just felt different from usual, and now I know why!"
"Tempesta's helping too. He said he wanted to make up for what happened at the equestrian arena earlier."
The conclusion was that since Rita and Priest Wagner never ended up meeting, Tempesta's efforts deserved praise. But thanks to his botched scarf, Lanasa had missed the final obstacle, and it had very nearly ended in disaster.
Though she couldn't escape the point deductions, it had been a preliminary round, so Lanasa was safely through to the next event. That aside, there was no escaping Bayul's scolding for Tempesta.
"Right, by the way — why did you suddenly pull that stunt in the first place? Was our little darling that bored?"
"Hey! You again—!"
"Oh no, sorry. When I think of Tempesta, that image just pops right into my head, so I momentarily forgot myself. Forgive me, friend."
He had called the little fellow cute and precious, but to Eli, that word dredged up unpleasant memories. Aidan hurried to apologize and moved the conversation along.
"Still, thank goodness Lanasa made it through. I really wanted to see a decisive result this time."
"Do you know how many people's hopes are riding on you?"
"Hopes?"
"Crown Prince Lindemann placed a bet on you."
"A bet? On what?"
Aidan's brow furrowed at Quinn's half-baked explanation. "Shall we say that the Crown Prince can only make his wish to Sir Hayes if you win? His way of wooing her was so country-bumpkin clunky that it made me cringe, and I was just listening."
"...So what you're saying is the Crown Prince and Sir Hayes made a wager over who'd take the tournament, and the stakes are granting a wish?"
"Bingo!"
"Wait, so that means the Crown Prince has his eye on Sir Hayes? He was staring holes into her at the palace last time — that was real? Whoa!"
Aidan shouted with excitement at the fresh gossip.
"Hey, keep it down! Someone's going to hear you!"
"Everyone's too busy watching the fireworks! So who did Sir Hayes pick, if not me?"
"Lanasa."
"What? Lanasa? Tch, after all the time she's spent watching me — that's cold!"
Aidan made no attempt to hide his wounded pride at being passed over (or so he assumed) by Sir Hayes.
"That's not exactly something you should be saying in front of me."
Logan blurted it out suddenly. Passed over by both the Crown Prince and Sir Hayes, he delivered the line in his heavy, resonant baritone — and for an instant, Aidan faltered. But he quickly recovered, raising his voice in protest.
"Ugh, I almost fell for it! Not like you ever care about that sort of thing anyway!"
"Who says I don't care?"
"...What's gotten into you? So did your feelings actually get hurt?"
"Not to that extent."
"Now you're just messing with me! What, then?"
"Call it a small dent in my pride."
"And you expect me to believe that? Your face doesn't say that at all."
Contrary to his words, Logan's expression was utterly serene.
"When have you ever seen Logan get worked up like you do? This one always wears that face unless it's about Bayul."
"True enough — we do have two living emblems of the poker face among us."
Aidan nodded vigorously, chiming in with Eli.
"Does 'the two of us' include me?"
"Why ask when you already know? Planning to insist otherwise?"
Apparently having no such intention, Quinn silently shifted his gaze to the night sky, where the beautiful fireworks still flaunted their brilliance.
"Oh, right! Bayul, you've got something to say to me, don't you?"
"Hmm? Like what?"
It was when the fireworks had reached their crescendo. Bayul was deep in his enjoyment when Eli suddenly posed the question. Judging from the crease forming on that smooth forehead of his, it was definitely not good news.
"Death."
That was all Eli said.
Ah.
And Bayul understood him perfectly. He was asking why the Chairman had brought up Death at the breakfast gathering. The moment he'd been dreading had arrived.
I need to navigate this carefully.
Bayul laid out the explanation he had prepared after giving the matter considerable thought.
"You remember the Chairman mentioned visiting me before? Because of Father sending a chaser after me."
"What about it?"
"He only ran into the Death brothers briefly at the time. The impression seems to have stuck with him. Then he brought it up so suddenly at that gathering that I was caught completely off guard."
"That's all it was?"
"Yes, that's all. What else would there be?"
Bayul's performance was flawless. His voice didn't waver, and his eyes never darted away.
Yet for some reason, Eli's gaze narrowed to slits. Suspicious, he stretched his neck forward and thrust his face right up against Bayul's.
"Liar."
"...L-liar? Why would I lie?"
"I lived alongside that bastard for decades, remember? You think I don't know the man? A passing glimpse wouldn't make him bring any of that up. He's not the type to take interest in trivial nonsense."
Sharp as a blade at the worst possible moments.
Two glinting red jewels came to a halt inches from Bayul's nose. Up close, Eli's eyes shimmered more brilliantly than usual — yet somehow, they sent a chill down his spine.
"Eli! Why are you dogging him over nothing? If you want to interrogate someone, go interrogate the Chairman! You're costing Bayul his match!"
"I also think it's strange, frankly. Why do you get so flustered over a simple question?"
"...Flustered? I'm not flustered."
"Oh really?"
Nod-nod.
Anyone could see he was flustered, and Bayul's denial only deepened Eli's suspicion.
"Bayul, are you hiding something from me?"
"N-no! Of course not!"
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely! Where would I even get anything like that!"
"Then what did you move that day?"
"Move? Move what?"
"I heard Death hauled off loads of luggage the size of a house, all by himself, no trouble at all. What was that about?"
"...Ah, that? That was just — well, it was the day I got back from Hamilton, wasn't it? Winter clothes and whatnot, so there was a mountain of luggage. I'd brought back quite a few odds and ends too. He just happened to catch us moving it all in one go."
Bayul figured this improvisation would be enough to pass. But somehow, Eli's doubts showed no sign of subsiding — if anything, they only seemed to swell.
"Somehow, talking at such length makes you sound more suspicious..."
"Eli, why do you keep doing this? It's all the truth."
"Like I said before, I've known that man for decades. Something is definitely up."
"Hey! You're the suspicious one!"
Sensing Bayul was struggling, Aidan jumped in again.
"How old are you, that you've lived alongside the Chairman for decades? Even if you'd been alive your whole life, that's only sixteen years!"
"...!"
"Do you even know what 'decades' means before you use it? You're a smart guy who says the weirdest things sometimes, I swear."
"Ah, well, that..."
"Enough! Running around the tournament today has worn me out. The fireworks are nearly over anyway, so let's all head in and rest. We have to be up early for tomorrow's ceremonies as it is."
"You'd do well to rest too, Bayul, if you want to focus on the chess tournament."
With Quinn joining the chorus, Eli could no longer press the matter. Something was clearly being hidden from him — but for the life of him, he couldn't guess what. And since he had his own guilty secrets, he felt awkward about prying any further.
"So, Bayul — did you prepare well for the chess tournament?"
Barely escaped from crisis (of a sort) thanks to his friends, Bayul answered with an inward sigh of relief.
"I'm sure Sir Ian helped me out."
"Mm-hmm, something like that."
If he admitted his practice partner had been Death, the conversation might circle right back to that dangerous territory. They say every lie begets another lie — and Bayul's situation was exactly that, in the flesh.
"Do you know who your opponent is tomorrow?"
"No, they'll draw lots to set the brackets."
"Have you worked out a strategy?"
"I'm just going to play the way I always do."
"Good. That's all you need to do."
"Win it all, Bayul."
It wasn't as though the pressure had weighed on him, but his friends' cheers still eased something in his chest. Chess was a game he'd played countless times since childhood. Even if he couldn't take the championship, he wanted to earn a result he could be proud of. Because then Father would be pleased — and his brother too.
Chapter 4 — The Riddle
The second day of the festival had begun. Bayul concluded his official duties with a light breakfast alongside the Crown Prince, then hurried off to his next destination.
The chess tournament would take place in an open-air arena hastily erected at the Water Garden, but a preliminary drawing of lots was needed to arrange the brackets, so the assembly point had been set elsewhere.
Unlike the equestrian and magic competitions, which were divided by academic year, the chess tournament featured all years competing on equal footing — no seeded entries, no exemptions. That, one might say, was its defining trait.
"Bayul!"
The moment Bayul stepped inside, an unexpectedly familiar face greeted him. Lubinsky, who had accompanied him to the imperial palace as part of the delegation, waved her hand high in the air to catch his attention.
As a result, every eye in the crowded room swung toward Bayul. And for some reason, most of them carried a distinctly wary edge.
"Hi there, Bayul!"
As he approached, Lubinsky greeted him brightly.
"Hey, Lubinsky. Been keeping well?"
"Of course I have! I knew you'd enter the chess tournament too!"
"...Did you?"
"What do you mean, did you! You demolished that jerk Jared at the Crow's Nest! With skill like that, obviously you'd come!"
Bayul couldn't quite grasp the weight of it, but at the time, that match had been a genuinely momentous event. Part of it was that he was Duke Randert's son, and part of it was that no one had ever beaten Jared at drinking chess before — so Bayul's capacity for both liquor and chess had been a steady topic of conversation ever since.
"Your goal is the championship, obviously?"
At Lubinsky's question, Bayul felt the sidelong glances around him. They were curious to hear how he'd answer.
Just as the needless pressure left him stammering, unable to reply, the door mercifully swung open and the supervising professor walked in.
"Hello, everyone!"
The one who appeared with a kindly voice and a radiant smile was Professor Serarika. At her entrance, the students erupted in cheers.