A Furry Stowaway
"Shall we go with something fried?"
Bayul tore his gaze from the boy at last and asked Ian.
"Yes, anything is fine with me."
"And something to drink? We have both beer and juice ready."
"Water is fine for me."
"Two cold waters, then, please."
As an escort knight, Ian's most vital duty was keeping Bayul safe. The thought of a chilled beer was tempting, but drinking on the very day of arriving in a new city might loosen him up—and even if this were his familiar hometown, that rule would still apply.
"This is really good."
The food arrived quickly. Surprise spread across Bayul's face after his first spoonful of goulash. It wasn't the taste he knew. It was surely made from the same ingredients, and yet the flavor was completely different.
"It really is. It's been almost ten years for me."
They say good food changes a person—and Ian was living proof. They had spent several days together, yet this was the first time Bayul had ever seen him smile.
"I suppose it's been a while since you've been home."
"Yes. I left when I was twenty."
So he was around thirty, give or take. Bayul was stunned by how old that made him—he'd assumed the man was in his mid-twenties at most.
In truth, given that this was Carrington, Bayul could easily have believed he was an academy student. He was rather handsome, too; without the sword at his hip, no one would ever guess he was a knight.
"Um… I'd like to sleep outside tonight."
At Bayul's abrupt declaration, Ian paused mid-meal and looked up.
"It's Sunday. I heard hardly any students stay in the dorms over the holidays."
"Not all of them."
"I know. Students like me, whose homes are far away, will be keeping the dorms company even on weekends. Counting down the days until vacation, no doubt."
That was precisely Bayul's state of mind, even before he'd officially enrolled.
"I'll be spending more than enough time in the dorm from now on. I didn't want to start that early."
"The upper offices have you checking in today. Your luggage has already been sent ahead."
"You could just send word if that's the problem."
"It isn't only that. If something were to happen to you while you slept outside, I might not be able to bear the responsibility alone."
"Nothing happened on the whole way here. And I've heard Carrington is a very safe city. It's your hometown, Sir Ian—surely you know that better than I do."
Ian had no answer. Truthfully, the excuse had been just that—an excuse. As long as one avoided the very late hours, Carrington was a considerably safe city.
"Consider it my last taste of freedom?"
Bayul's voice turned more earnest than it had ever been.
"Starting tomorrow, I have to live each day under a thousand watching eyes. You understand, Sir Ian—whose son I am. Just for tonight, I want to rest in peace."
Perhaps his sincerity got through. After a moment's hesitation, Ian finally let out a sigh and gave in.
"…Very well. I'll arrange lodgings."
He didn't bother asking Bayul not to tell his father. He would find out soon enough either way. Staying out for a single night wouldn't be enough to earn his wrath.
Unaware that the red-haired waiter was watching him with an intrigued look, Bayul resumed the meal he'd set aside.
Was it just his imagination? The same food that had melted in his mouth moments ago now felt like chewing on grains of sand.
Monday morning dawned. Classes normally began at ten, so Bayul—whose very first day of school this was—needed to arrive by nine at the latest to get ready in time.
Knock, knock.
"It's me."
By the time Ian entered, Bayul was fully prepared. He'd already eaten breakfast and, clumsily but diligently, straightened his hair and clothes.
"I've got a carriage waiting downstairs."
"I thought we were walking."
"The hill is quite a long climb. You can't be late on your first day."
"Once I'm settled in the dorm, will you be leaving for Hamilton right away, Sir Ian?"
"No. My duty is to remain here and attend to you, my lord. For now I'll lodge at an inn, but I plan to find proper quarters soon."
What a relief. If Ian went back, that would be the moment Bayul truly became alone—left entirely on his own in a world of strangers. Having him stay nearby put him somewhat at ease.
"May I come visit now and then on weekends?"
"Of course. Any time at all."
Though it would primarily be Ian's residence, its real purpose was to give Bayul a comfortable retreat. Bayul's uncle, pitying the plight of a nephew exiled to a distant land, had pressed the request earnestly upon Ian.
"This is the carriage, right?"
Knowing nothing of this, Bayul climbed toward the carriage, thinking to himself that it was a stroke of luck. Or rather, he tried to climb in.
Huh?
It was an open-top carriage—a four-passenger, two-wheeled coach with the driver's seat excluded. He had naturally assumed it would be empty, but someone had already claimed it.
Is this not ours?
He glanced around, but this was the only carriage stopped there. Puzzled, he peered back inside the carriage—and the occupant abruptly greeted him.
"Hey there!"
It was a small-framed boy with a fedora pressed down over his hair. Golden short curls, bright green eyes, an undeniably cute face—and yet something about him brought to mind a little troublemaker. The boy was hitching a free ride in a carriage someone else had hired, yet far from looking sorry, he carried himself with utter confidence.
"This is going up to the academy, right?"
Bayul nodded without thinking, and the boy's mouth curled up as if to say he'd thought as much.
"Two of us, then?"
Bayul sensed Ian stepping up behind him. Ian, too, seemed bewildered by the situation and said nothing. The truly absurd part came next.
"Ha! Perfect timing! Driver, old man—giddy up!"
At the boy's sudden command, the waiting coachman actually cried, "Yes, sir!" and raised his whip high? In a daze, Ian pushed Bayul up into the carriage and scrambled in after him, and by the narrowest of margins, the carriage took off.
"I'm Aidan. First year, Knight Department. And you?"
The boy asked before Bayul had even recovered from the absurdity of this forced carpool. He'd known from the uniform that the boy was an academy student, but Knight Department, in that tiny frame? Unexpected.
Can he even swing a sword properly?
Admission to the academy was possible from age sixteen. Since the boy claimed to be a first year, he was the same age as Bayul—but he was small to the point of being hard to believe it.
"I'm just coming back from visiting home over the weekend. I suppose you were too?"
He had come from home, after all. Bayul nodded with an awkward smile.
"Funny, though—I've never seen your face before. What's your name?"
"…Bayul."
"Bayul?"
Bayul stared back at Aidan's questioning face with a tense expression. He was anxious that the boy might recognize him. He had deliberately omitted his family name, but even "Bayul" wasn't exactly a common one.
"Hmm… doesn't ring a bell. Two months into the semester and I'm meeting someone new? Aidan, you've got to try harder!"
Relief washed over Bayul at the sight of Aidan biting his lip in resolve. If the boy learned who he was a little later, he might feel betrayed. Still, the last thing Bayul wanted was to be found out before he'd even enrolled.
But that relief didn't last.
"Which dorm are you in? Stone Lion? Black Falcon? Turtle King?"
Bayul's expression stiffened again at the unfamiliar words. Aidan was naming dormitories. But Bayul knew only the names—he had no idea which one he belonged to.
What am I supposed to say? Should I just fudge it?
"Not Turtle King, anyway. If it were, there's no way I wouldn't have seen you."
Since Aidan had asked about dorms after revealing his department, that meant dorms weren't assigned by department.
Were they chosen at random? Or by recommendation? If he had to pick one, which should it be?
This fresh worry made Bayul's head throb all over. Mercifully, the carriage lurched as it entered a sharp curve, buying him time before he had to answer.
"Hey, why aren't you— yowch! My whole body!"
Aidan's small frame rocked violently. The boy grabbed the handrail in a flash, then fixed the driver's seat with his already-enormous eyes and hollered.
"Old man! Can't you drive this thing properly? Ingrid's right in the middle of her nap! If you wake her up, you're taking responsibility—got that?!"
What…?
Out of nowhere, talk of naps—and a girl's name, no less. Not just Bayul but Ian too stared at Aidan as if something were very wrong.
That was when it happened. The hat that had stayed plastered to Aidan's head even as he rocked about lifted slightly upward—and something popped out from under it.
…A bird?
Astonishingly, it really was a bird. A very tiny owl, at that. A grey-brown body, a dark head, a white face. Black eyes ringed with deep orange, and two little ear tufts sticking up from its head—utterly adorable.
It's… it's precious!
The bird's sudden appearance was bewildering, but Bayul couldn't help marveling. If not for its blinking eyes, he might have mistaken it for a doll. Faced with the tiniest living creature he'd ever seen in his life, Bayul was completely disarmed.
"Oh dear, Ingrid, you're up? Sleep well?"
Aidan's voice, just moments ago thundering with fury, turned gentle as if none of it had happened. He reached up over his head and stroked the bird with practiced ease.
"Pwee!"
Ingrid answered with a tiny cry, as if replying in kind. The sound was every bit as darling as its looks.
"Huh? What's gotten into this little one?"
After a few more chirps, Ingrid abruptly slid its whole body out from under the hat, stood up straight—and without a moment's hesitation, hopped down toward Bayul.
"Ah!"
It had happened in an instant; there was no way to dodge. A strange sensation landed on the back of his hand, and Bayul, already startled, went rigid all over. Fully revealed, Ingrid was far smaller than he'd imagined—it barely covered half the back of his hand.
"Looks like she likes you."
Aidan seemed fascinated by Ingrid's sudden move. He looked back and forth between Bayul and the bird, laughing as if this were great fun.
"Her name is Ingrid?"
When Bayul asked, Ingrid bounced on her feet and let out a different sound than before. That trilling, warbling cry was wonderfully pleasant to hear.
"Yep. She must like you. She's usually so shy around strangers—how odd."
Bird showing him affection or not, Bayul certainly didn't dislike it either. Her beak looked rather sharp, but he worked up the courage to touch a fingertip to it. The hardness lasted only a moment before Ingrid, as if she'd been waiting, pressed her head against Bayul's hand.
"She's asking you to pet her. Like this."
Aidan lightly scratched the back of Ingrid's head, demonstrating.
"You try."
He hesitated briefly, but Bayul soon did as Aidan had, slowly stroking Ingrid's head.
"Wow…"
So incredibly soft and warm. A different feeling from Jasper altogether.
Feathers really are something else.
Perhaps she was enjoying it, because Ingrid kept chirping away—pwee-pwee—without pause.