Stand Tall — You Are My Son
With the first warm days of spring came the news of victory from the Polska Empire. Most imperial citizens considered it an utterly foregone conclusion — the Duke of Randert had led the campaign himself — but that did nothing to dull their joy.
No one mourned the fall of the Dwyer Empire, the nation that had carved the unfading wound of the Ten-Year War into the hearts of every soul on the continent.
The many kingdoms that had once sent expeditionary forces to aid the Polska Empire now sent delegations of congratulations instead. The Dwyer Empire, its royal house utterly toppled, was a land of vast territory and considerable resources besides. Even as they praised the entrance of its new master, a silent war was already beginning — everyone scrambling to grab whatever they could.
"I never thought I'd be setting foot in Vergara again."
"That's what happens when you keep good friends around, isn't it? Told you I have an eye for people."
"Hey, Quinn. If Duke Randert called for you too, it's got to be because he wants to honor what you did, right? You played a huge part in holding back the tsunami — maybe he'll even grant you a reward?"
During the short vacation that had belatedly begun, Bayul returned to the imperial palace at his father's command — and he was not alone. His friends, the ones who had gone with him to Romandsi to stop the great earthquake, had come along. For some reason, his father had insisted that Quinn be brought as well.
"So if you get a reward, what are you gonna do with it? You're treating us, obviously."
"Why would I have to do that?"
At Quinn's unexpected pushback, Aidan's face scrunched up in disbelief.
"Wha— you've learned nothing."
Quinn had no intention of accepting any reward, nor any desire to. If they absolutely insisted on giving him something, he planned to extract something else entirely in place of a prize.
"How would you ever understand the heart of a prince of a whole nation?"
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"
Leaving Aidan trembling with betrayal(?), Quinn strode ahead. They were on their way to answer the Duke of Randert's summons, granted the moment they entered the palace.
"Ugh, so annoying. Why do I always lose to that guy's mouth?"
"Because Quinn only ever says things that are true, that's why."
"You trying to pour oil on the fire?"
Shooting a withering glance at Eli's needling, Aidan suddenly lowered his voice.
"But seriously, why is the Chairman here? I thought His Grace the Duke of Randert only called for us."
"How would I know? The man does whatever he pleases."
Though it was vacation, Rayegar had tagged along in his capacity as an official escort. The friends had wanted to go with Professor Rothius as before, but Rayegar had refused to budge, even brandishing his authority as Academy Chairman.
"I can hear every word."
Rayegar, who had been trailing after them while glancing around at the palace, tossed the remark over his shoulder as he passed.
"I came out of curiosity. I wanted to see just how lavish a place the Emperor lives in — and honestly, it's nothing special."
"Is that really the whole reason?"
"What else would there be?"
"...Just don't cause any trouble. If you screw up here, my gaming time goes up in flames with it. Understood?"
"Just trust your daddy, my precious darling. I promise I won't let you down."
Rayegar flashed a sly grin as he looked at his son. But Eli, already bristling from the word darling alone, gritted his teeth and snapped his head away.
"Hah. Adorable child."
Rayegar, of course, didn't blink an eye. If anything, he found even that side of Eli endearing, and only smiled all the more brightly.
"His Grace the Duke of Randert awaits just through here."
Their escort brought them to the duke's office within the imperial palace. When they opened the door and stepped inside, a crowd of people was visible. The Duke of Randert sat at the far end of the long table, in the seat of honor.
"Father!"
Bayul had worried more than he could say. His father was stronger than anyone alive — but the possibility of the unforeseen always existed. The moment he confirmed that his father had returned safe and sound, Bayul felt more moved than he ever had in his life.
"You've come."
Whatever he happened to be doing, the Duke had given strict orders that Bayul was to be shown in immediately. He had been thinking it was about time his son arrived anyway, and at the welcome sight of him, a smile bloomed across the Duke's face for the first time in ages.
"We will reconvene the meeting in one hour."
At Sadad's announcement, the gathered officials melted out of the office as quickly as an ebbing tide.
"Your Grace, thank you for your hard service."
Ian approached the Duke of Randert and bowed with full formality.
"And you as well, Ian."
It was thanks to Ian that the Duke had been able to throw himself into the war without worry for home. He nodded in greeting to Rayegar, who stood visible behind Ian, and gestured for the group to be seated.
"Have you been well?"
Letters had gone back and forth between them, but they held little more than brief pleasantries. The Duke asked the question without taking his eyes off his son, whom he hadn't seen in months.
"Yes, Father. But... is something the matter with you? Your complexion doesn't look well."
The joy lasted only a moment. The creases folded between his father's brows troubled Bayul deeply.
"It's nothing. I'm merely tired — your father is quite all right."
"You returned in triumph and haven't even had a proper rest? And your meals? Surely you haven't been skipping meals?"
"Ah, young Master Bayul. Please don't fret. His Grace always wears that expression whenever he's summoned to the palace."
"...He always does?"
"Indeed. For His Grace, this Vergara is the most uncomfortable place in the entire empire. I daresay the battlefield is a hundred times more comfortable for him. Isn't that right, Your Grace?"
"Sadad."
Despite the Duke's warning not to add unnecessary commentary, Sadad did not shut his mouth.
"Besides, there is naturally far more work to be done after a war ends than during it. Mountains of matters to be dealt with, one after another. Of course, I handle the vast majority of them myself. Would you believe me if I told you I haven't slept a single wink in three days?"
There was something suspiciously self-congratulatory in his tone. Everyone blinked uncertainly, unsure how to react, until Ian shook his head as if he simply couldn't bear it.
"Older by a year and still not a whit more mature."
"Senior Ian, was that remark meant for me to hear?"
"Outside. Now."
Ian rose abruptly to his feet.
"Your Grace, I will wait outside with Sadad. Please speak freely."
In a few days' time, the Duke and Bayul would have to offer a not-quite-explanation of the events at Romandsi before the Emperor and his ministers. Before that, they needed time to align their story — to conceal what had to be concealed, and reveal what could be revealed. Today's visit existed to prepare for exactly that.
Bayul understood well that Sadad's joke had been an attempt to lighten the mood, but staying quietly out of the way was, for now, the wiser choice. With father and son standing at a critical crossroads, clumsy jesting was the last thing they needed.
"So you couldn't sleep for three days either, Father?"
The moment Ian and Sadad were gone, Bayul asked.
"You heard everything just now, didn't you? That Sadad handles most of the work."
"...Pardon?"
"All I do is sign the papers he's organized. Naturally, I sleep quite well. It's merely that the nobles give me a headache, so don't worry yourself over it."
What they needed to agonize over from here on out was nothing of that sort. One misstep, and they could find themselves at the mercy of vipers' tongues. Sometimes a man's three-inch tongue was more terrifying than any blade. If it were the Duke alone, he could bear it well enough — but with Bayul involved, everything changed. The ministers might well witness an entirely new side of the Duke this time around.
"First, there is something you must understand."
The Duke of Randert began, making sure they listened closely.
"Together, you held back the great earthquake and tsunami. But we cannot report everything exactly as it happened. Amon's prophecy goes without saying — and Eli's magic, among other things. You know as well as I how many details there are that cannot be explained."
"Eli's true identity must not come to light."
In the course of preventing the disaster, Eli had unleashed every high-tier spell imaginable — magic a first-year academy student could never possibly command. The sole mercy was that, with everyone's attention fixed on the stalled tsunami, not a single soldier was likely to have been watching him.
"So after discussing it with Sadad, we've decided to trim away everything else, and instead emphasize two points: that you, Bayul, are a Spirit User, and that Quinn, of the merfolk, lent his strength to holding back the tsunami. Those two facts are the heart of the matter anyway — and they cannot be hidden regardless."
"Won't that bring harm to Quinn somehow?"
A belated regret washed over him — the fear that Quinn might get tangled in trouble because of him. Of course, if that moment came again, he would act exactly the same way. Even so, he felt sorry toward Quinn.
"Let the greedy ones come, if they will."
It was already widely known that the merfolk possessed the power to command water. But no one would have imagined they could hold back a tsunami of that magnitude.
"Still, do not fret. Both you and Quinn — this father of yours will protect you."
He had already made his plans. He couldn't know how the nobles would receive the proposal he intended to put forward, but he was determined to bend them to his will regardless.
"That said, there is one thing you must all be careful of. Every word spoken in the Grand Hall will be recorded in full by the imperial scribes. There will be no taking anything back. So bear it in mind, and bear it in mind again: before a single word leaves your lips, you must first think it through in your head."
There was a great deal to be wary of, but speech above all was paramount. The imperial palace was precisely the kind of place where a single careless remark could brand you a traitor. To avoid being devoured by the cunning serpents of the court faction, they would have to be careful, and careful again.
"If things go badly, why not just wipe them all out? I'd say we're more than capable of it."
Rayegar, seated with utter indifference, finally blurted it out, as though the suspense was suffocating him. Eli's eyes went dagger-sharp as he glared.
"I warned you not to cause trouble, didn't I?"
"I haven't caused any yet, have I?"
"Saying that IS causing trouble! Did you not hear His Grace just now telling us to watch our mouths? If this is how you're going to be, why not just head home right now?"
"I rode that miserable train all the way here, and you're telling me to just leave?"
"You could teleport back just as easily! What hardship, honestly!"
Somehow the whole thing felt deeply unsteady — as if the entire stay in the palace would be one long discomfort. Babysitting an old man? Hard pass. Eli flapped his hands impatiently, shooing him toward the door.
"By the way — is this palace yours or something? Why should it be you saying whether I go or stay? And just who do you think you are?"
It was absurd the moment he heard it. Stung by his son's rebuke, Rayegar launched a counterattack.
"You're not even the host here, so why are you carrying on?"
"When did I ever say it was mine? It's because you keep spouting nonsense!"
"Excuse me, this really isn't the time or place to be making this much noise. Could you please keep it down—"
Intervening was useless. Long after that, the two continued trading petty, childish barbs for a good while. Because of it, the Duke never managed to say everything he'd intended — but there was still time. For a man worn down by nothing but tedious paperwork, watching the cheerful bickering of the dragon father and son was, in its own way, rather entertaining.
And so the days passed.
In the early morning, Bayul and Quinn attended the Grand Hall council alongside the Duke of Randert, where the Emperor and all his ministers were assembled. The nobles, bewildered by their sudden appearance, included a few who made no effort to hide their displeasure. Men of Duke Hector's faction.
He had steeled himself for this, but at his first Grand Hall council, Bayul couldn't help shrinking back. The Duke pressed a hand to his son's shoulder.
"Hold your head high. You are my son."