Assassins Under the Moonlight
Fweee— fweee—
The moon hung bright and full in the night sky. Beneath its pale glow, enormous shadows—birds, perhaps, or something else entirely—slipped one after another over the Academy's walls.
Their movements were remarkably silent and coordinated. Fallen leaves blanketed the Academy grounds now that autumn had set in, yet not a single sound rose as they passed over them.
As if each had a different destination, the shadowy figures split into two groups in an instant, then sped off toward their targets without a moment's hesitation.
"Congratulations, Bayul."
With the second day of the festival brought to a successful close, most of the students had already headed back to their dormitories to rest for tomorrow. Bayul should have done the same, but he was instead strolling the grounds near the dormitory with the Crown Prince, seeing out the last of the day's official duties.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Your skill was incredible, you know. I expected as much, but you still exceeded it."
"I was simply lucky."
"Lucky? You drew an opponent like that in your very first match, and you call that luck?"
Crown Prince Lindemann burst out laughing at Bayul's reply, as if the answer were utterly absurd.
"They say excessive modesty can sometimes come across as rude."
"If that is how it seemed, I apologize. I truly never meant it that way—"
"I know, I know you didn't. That's not even what I was getting at. I laughed because with you, Bayul, it never reads that way at all."
Relief washed over him. Bayul's heart had lurched for a moment, wondering if he'd committed some blunder.
"Aidan was saying it earlier today. Everything you actually like or care about, you're better than exceptional at—and apparently you're the only one who doesn't know it."
"…You mean me?"
"He said you simply never had many people around to compare yourself to?"
"Well… my brother was always so extraordinarily gifted."
After a brief hesitation, Bayul answered honestly.
Lindemann already knew. Bayul had been born a twin, and the boy's elder brother had died young in an accident.
Back then, Duke Randert had been so shattered by the loss of his son that he had absented himself from council meetings for a long while. He bore tremendous responsibility as a minister of the Empire, yet even the Emperor had tolerated everything in those days.
The Crown Prince still remembered, vividly, the first day Duke Randert returned to the capital after laying his son to rest.
The Duke had been his idol. To find sorrow and emptiness in the eyes of that ever-proud figure had pained Lindemann deeply as well.
He had been sixteen at the time, which meant Bayul could only have been fourteen. He couldn't even begin to imagine the grief of losing a brother—his own twin, no less.
"He excelled at everything. For me, simply trying to follow in his footsteps was more than I could manage."
"…His name was Bayil, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Even though he must have been run ragged, rushing here and there on my behalf because of my frail health, there was nothing he couldn't do."
"So it's one of those stories—the talented younger brother hidden in a brilliant elder's shadow turns out to be a hidden master in his own right."
Was it the memory of his dead brother?
Bayul's expression darkened noticeably. Sensing it, the Crown Prince deliberately brightened his tone and steered the conversation elsewhere.
"Did you hear? Aidan and I made a bet."
"…Wasn't your bet with Sir Hayes?"
Hayes should have been following the two of them at a leisurely distance somewhere behind. When Bayul glanced back, the Crown Prince held up his index and middle fingers.
"I bet with both of them."
The wager with Hayes had been over the winner of the equestrian tournament, each staking a wish on the outcome. Bayul knew that much.
"What did you and Aidan bet on, then?"
Don't tell me they did it behind my back? The chess tournament had started today, and a flicker of suspicion crossed Bayul's mind.
"He was convinced it's going to rain in the capital come spring."
"…Rain?"
"Yes. You know the capital's been ravaged by drought, unlike your home in Hamilton? This miserable dry spell has been drying up every last drop of water."
They had somehow scraped by until now, but if the drought continued, no one could say what would happen next.
"Carrington is a truly blessed city. That's why I was always a little envious of it."
Bayul felt the same. These days, he even knew the reason why. The Spirit Stones. Their presence—or absence—was what determined the weather's moods.
"And then out of nowhere, Aidan proposes a bet. As if he had a friend on standby, ready to make it rain the moment he asked."
"…Ahaha, so that's the bet. I do hope it works out exactly as Aidan wishes."
"Bayul, you wouldn't happen to know something, would you?"
"K-know something?"
"I got the feeling you were hiding some kind of secret. You know what it is, don't you?"
Of course he knew. Who else could that friend who'd make it rain be, if not himself?
Aidan, you absolute—!
It was the moment he regretted sending his friends ahead, out of consideration for how exhausted they must be after tending to the Crown Prince all day. Flustered, Bayul hemmed and hawed instead of answering, and Lindemann's eyes narrowed.
"I knew it! My instincts were right. So? Out with it."
"…I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I truly know nothing about that."
"You're lying. Your face just now said you knew plenty."
Since childhood, the Crown Prince had possessed a singular gift for reading people. In his position, discerning character was vitally important—in fact, among the studies of rulership was a course devoted entirely to cultivating exactly that kind of judgment.
"I believe you have misunderstood something, Your Highness…"
For now, Bayul decided to play dumb. From where he stood, there was still nothing he could tell the Crown Prince.
But he did want to see Aidan's words through—that come next spring, rain would fall on the capital. If he advanced his spirits and practiced diligently until then, he might be able to help, even a little. No one wished for that day to come more than Bayul himself.
"Hmmm, that's the same look you had at the palace."
"…?"
"The teapot and the tree vine. I haven't forgotten about that, you know. I'm waiting for you to tell me one of these days."
Bayul had completely forgotten. When the delegation had visited Vergara, he had struck down Jared and Setherio for humiliating Quinn with scalding hot tea and the vines hanging from the ceiling. Even amid that sudden chaos, the Crown Prince had noted how calmly Bayul carried himself, and his gaze had been just as sharp back then.
"I take it this is another thing you'd rather not explain? Fine. I'll hold my tongue one more time."
Pressing the issue wouldn't make Bayul talk anyway, so Lindemann extracted a promise under the guise of magnanimity.
"In exchange, you'll really explain everything later, right?"
"Yes, Your Highness. I give you my word."
He had no idea when that moment would come, but for now, deflecting the Crown Prince's suspicions took priority. Bayul promised, just as he had before.
"By the way, what do you suppose Aidan will wish for?"
"Has he staked the same terms as in the bet with Sir Hayes?"
"Aidan's the one who suggested it. But I have this nagging feeling I'm going to lose. I'm the Crown Prince—I still have to keep my word, don't I?"
"I imagine you absolutely must. Aidan will never let it slide otherwise."
"Right? That's what I thought too. He looks fiercer than his face suggests."
Going by looks alone, Aidan was adorable enough to want to pat on the head. But his temperament was sharper and bolder than anyone's. And his riding skills had come as a surprise as well.
"And what will Your Highness wish for?"
"From Aidan?"
"No."
"Ah… you mean if Aidan wins the equestrian tournament?"
"Yes."
All the tournament results would be decided on the final day of the festival—tomorrow. Bayul's chess matches, and the obstacle course that Aidan and Logan had entered, would all reach their conclusions only when tomorrow arrived.
"Hmm. I do have something in mind, but is there any reason I should tell you now?"
"…No, of course not."
Bayul realized in a flash that he had misspoken. It was a matter between a man and a woman. Asking about such things was improper, and even hearing the answer could prove embarrassing.
He had only asked because the Crown Prince seemed curious about Aidan's wish; in truth, Bayul wasn't particularly eager to know either.
"If you go announcing a wish beforehand, it loses all its savor. And if Sir Hayes were to hear it, wouldn't that put me in an awkward spot? Those are things better left unknown until—huh? Sir Hayes?"
Mid-conversation, the Crown Prince had glanced back and now froze in his tracks, startled. And no wonder—Hayes was sprinting toward them in unmistakable urgency. Her beautiful face, gleaming in the moonlight, was graver than he had ever seen it.
"Your Highness, you must take cover at once!"
"Take cover? Why on earth would I—"
The Crown Prince never finished his sentence.
Shreeeee!
Something came whistling through the air from somewhere unseen.
Clang!
Hayes hastily drew her sword, throwing herself in front of the Crown Prince. The shrill ring of her blade striking a spearhead echoed heavily through the night.
Deflected from Hayes's sword was a small dart, its edges honed to a razor's keenness.
"It's an ambush! Stay behind me!"
Before her cry had even faded, the imperial knights and the Full Moon Knights who had been escorting at a distance surged forward, encircling the Crown Prince and Bayul.
"Wh-what in the world—!"
Bayul's mind reeled. He couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening.
The Crown Prince, by contrast, was perfectly composed. As if this were a common occurrence, he swept his surroundings with a grave, quick-eyed gaze.
"Rusty! Go fetch Ian—as fast as you possibly can!"
At Hayes's command, one of the Full Moon Knights shot away like the wind. Ian had finished his dinner and handed off his shift to Hayes for the evening's rest.
Of all times for Senior Ian to be absent… don't tell me this was deliberate?
Killing intent was gathering around him at frightening speed. His instincts warned him nothing good was coming.
Whoosh— whoosh— whoosh—
They were a band of figures dressed in black. Faces hidden behind masks—whether to conceal their identities or for some other purpose—they materialized without warning directly before them.
Only then did Bayul begin to grasp the situation he was in. And even with his ignorance, one thing was immediately clear: these opponents would be anything but easy.
Hayes had ordered Ian summoned. There was only one meaning behind it—she had judged that on her own, she might not be able to keep the Crown Prince safe.
Staring at Hayes's profile, taut with a tension unlike anything he'd seen from her, Bayul swallowed hard.
Who in the world would dare do such a thing to the Crown Prince?
This was treason—and a crime of the highest order.
"Cut off the Crown Prince's head!"
The masked men, who had been stealthily closing the distance, leapt forward at someone's command.
"Show no mercy!"
Hayes would not be outdone. With a great shout, she surged ahead of them all and cut down the first masked attacker.