Enemies Meet on a Narrow Bridge
It was the highest praise Quinn was capable of giving. He was so absorbed in eating that he hadn't even noticed the sauce smeared across one cheek — which could only mean the skewers were, in fact, delicious.
"And seeing your follower wolfing them down too, I'd say merfolk palates approve as well. Vivian's skewers really are world-class!"
"Well, I'll admit it."
It was his first taste of them today, but Eli offered his cool acknowledgment all the same. Any dish that could satisfy the palate of a self-proclaimed gourmet to this degree had more than earned the compliment.
"Stick with me for one day and you've all hit the jackpot!"
It wasn't just good mood talking, either. Even without Aidan going out of his way to announce who he was, plenty of merchants recognized him on sight — and naturally, their treatment of the group was nothing short of exceptional. Some, like Vivian, flatly refused to take their money; others slashed their prices dramatically or threw in a little something extra, each one practically tripping over themselves for the chance to fuss over them.
The curious part was that while their lips cooed 'little young master, little young master' in the most obsequious tones, their manner and speech were as easy as if they were dealing with the rascal next door.
"Finally you look like a proper son of House Leonett! Forgive me for failing to recognize it all this time!"
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
"So you weren't given away after all — you simply never needed bodyguards. And here I never knew... Anyway, let's make days like this a regular thing, shall we?"
Eli, with an arm slung over Aidan's shoulder, looked more content than he had in ages. Around his wrist, the leather bracelet he'd picked up moments ago at half the asking price gleamed with all the majesty it could muster.
And it wasn't only Eli. Ian, who'd needed supplies, and Rita, who had been hovering indecisively in front of a dress shop she liked, both walked away with their goods at absurdly generous prices thanks to Aidan. As long as the boy was with them, there was nothing to hesitate over in this night market.
Perhaps that was why, at some point, a figure had taken to trailing Aidan like his own shadow: Death. He had caught on early that by staying glued to the boy's side, whatever food appeared would reach him first.
"Hey, Mr. Death. Did we come here to carry luggage or to stuff your face? Have a little regard for the young master's reputation! One look at you and people will think you're a beggar! What are they supposed to make of that, hmm? They'll think the young master doesn't even feed you and leaves you starving! Eat in moderation, will you? Yes?!"
Death weathered Rita's glares and scolding with unshakable dignity. His proud stance — that his true duty was porter, and porter he would be — drove Rita up the wall, yet he never once slacked, discharging every responsibility assigned to him without a single shortcut.
"Shall we get going, then?"
Death, who at that very moment was raising a donut thickly coated in sugar toward his mouth, flinched at Aidan's words. Only for a moment, though — he hastily snatched up two more and crammed his mouth full. Rita looked at him as if he were hopeless, but as he had all along, he paid her no mind and concentrated on eating. It was pure bliss.
"It's only eight o'clock and you want to leave already?"
"No, not go home — go fly sky lanterns."
"Sky lanterns?"
"You write your wish on a lantern and send it up into the sky. Around this time of year, it's the crowning attraction of the night market."
"Oh? You know your stuff, Sir Ian?"
Both Aidan and Eli wore expressions of pleasant surprise at the explanation.
"Because Carrington is his hometown."
"Oh, really? And here I failed to recognize a fellow son of my hometown."
Perhaps the shared roots stirred some sense of kinship — Aidan's tone toward Ian turned abruptly friendly.
"Wow! A lantern you write a wish on and send flying into the sky! Where do they do that? Can I do one too?"
For Rita and her girlish sensibilities, nothing could be more romantic. After all, this was a girl who sprouted several dozen new wishes a day. Behind her glasses, her eyes were blazing with enthusiasm.
"Of course anyone can."
"Really? Young master, I want to do it! Let's go right now! Yes?!"
"...S-sure?"
Rita rushed about so frantically that Bayul was all but dragged along.
"Just as I thought — packed with people."
The spot where the lanterns were released lay some distance from the night market street. Even so, true to its reputation as the market's crown jewel, it was teeming with crowds.
"Ugh, this bridge sways way too much! Aren't we all about to fall down?"
Their destination could only be reached by crossing the bridge. Torches had been lit along it for visitors with poor night vision, and apart from its pronounced swaying, it was genuinely atmospheric. A message welcoming guests had been painted broad across the planks, and small sky lanterns of every color hung in neat rows from the railings on either side.
"That's not an accident — the bridge was built to sway. It's commonly known as the swaying bridge. Never heard of it?"
"The swaying bridge?"
"Right. Cloud Bridge, Sky Bridge, the Shaky Bridge — it goes by all sorts of names, so call it whatever you like. It's one of Carrington's signature sights, though I suppose you really didn't know. Sir Ian, surely this isn't your first time here either?"
"Yes... well, that's true."
Something subtle lurked in Ian's tone.
"Did something... unpleasant happen to you here, perhaps?"
At Aidan's cautious question, Ian seemed to hesitate briefly before shrugging.
"Shall we call it a jinx? Whenever I set foot in this place, strangely enough, I always end up in situations where I have to use my body."
"Situations where you have to use your body...?"
"Exactly the ones you're imagining."
For a knight like Ian, there was only one kind of situation that fit the bill.
"You don't mean a knife attack... no, wait — a sword fight...!"
A knife attack or a sword fight — hardly different words. Still, considering who he was speaking of, Aidan hurried to correct himself.
"In my youth it was all bare-fisted brawling, but once I grew up, I did draw my blade on occasion. It's all long behind me now. Surely not today, of all days?"
It had been over a decade since he last returned to his hometown. He had made no enemies in the meantime, nor committed any particular blunder. Today, at last, the jinx was due to be broken.
"Well, well, look who it is! If it isn't the young master Bayul himself!"
But of course, someone had to prove otherwise. Coincidence always catches you off guard, and enemies are fated to meet on the narrowest of bridges. The moment Bayul spotted Jared approaching from the far end of the bridge, lackeys and escort knights in tow, he half thought he was dreaming.
"However does a delicately raised young lord grace such a shabby little corner of the world, I wonder. Curious about the night market, were we?"
The young man's mean, slitted eyes swept over Bayul's companions.
"A shrimp, a lowborn gypsy, and a fish stench. Heh. A perfect combination."
Muttering words none of them were meant to understand, Jared glanced back over his shoulder. It was as good as a signal. The four men guarding him stepped forward in unhurried strides, as if they had been waiting for precisely that.
"What's this supposed to mean?"
"You're not thinking of doing something to us, surely?"
The men bore down on the group with a steadily more oppressive air. It seemed impossible — and yet they looked poised to draw the swords at their belts at any moment.
"What makes you think I wouldn't?"
The corners of Jared's mouth curled up into a smirk.
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day to come! You little rats dared to make a fool of me? The Disciplinary Committee — that was your doing, wasn't it?"
"Oh ho! All this time we took you for a dunce, and yet you've got quite the instincts after all?"
"Exactly. He only ever picks the dumbest possible stunts, so I was sure he'd never catch on. How did you know?"
"Truly fascinating."
Aidan scraped at his pride first, and Eli twisted the knife right after. When even the usually quiet Quinn joined the chorus, every trace of a smile vanished from Jared's face.
"You punks are begging to die!"
His misdirected fury came pouring down on his own escorts instead.
"What are you all standing there gawking for! Teach them a lesson they'll never forget so they never run their mouths again! Put them on their knees before me, right now!"
At the command barked out between curses by a thoroughly incensed Jared, the men's eyes hardened. Watching grown knights dance to the whims of a petulant child of a master was laughable indeed — but this was no time to sit in judgment.
"Please step back for a moment."
This was exactly why Ian had come along — to be prepared for precisely this kind of situation. Having quietly watched the whole exchange unfold, he let out a private sigh and stepped forward.
"Four against one. We're hopelessly outnumbered."
"Who counts a fight by headcount? Let him count to ten — it'll be settled by then."
"Does he even need to reach ten?"
"Hmm. Then, say... five?"
Even with four armed men closing in on them threateningly, Aidan's and Eli's faces remained utterly serene. Leaning against the bridge railing with their arms crossed at their ease, they might as well have come to watch a performance. Quinn, too, simply observed the standoff with that characteristic expressionless calm, without a flicker of concern.
"Be careful, Sir Ian."
Even as Bayul offered the caution in a voice threaded with worry, he was not deeply troubled himself. He had never actually seen Ian fight with a sword, but he believed in the man's skill. His father must have assigned Ian alone as his escort precisely because he was that capable. Once again, Bayul was grateful the knight had come along.
"Withdraw even now, and I will act as though none of this ever happened."
It was Ian's final warning — one last courtesy from a fellow knight to men who had the misfortune of serving the wrong master.
But perhaps confidence born of sheer numbers got the better of them; what bloomed across the men's faces was open mockery instead.
Think you can handle the four of us all by yourself?
He could say it with certainty: they had absolutely no idea whom they were trying to set upon. If they had, they never could have come out like this.
"Then this can't be helped."
He didn't bother adding that they would regret it too late to matter. He had given them more than enough warning.
"I'll finish this quickly and cleanly."
Drawing his sword would have been faster, but shedding blood in the heart of a festival would have been a grave discourtesy to everyone else there. Ian pressed his fingers together into a blade-like edge and shot forward like a flying tiger.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Gah—!"
"Wh-what was that?"
It had taken a single movement. That alone, and all four men dropped at once as if they had rehearsed it together. Everyone stood dumbfounded. Not one of them had seen what he did, or how. They had blinked a single time, and four men lay unconscious.
"Amaaazing!"
"He's insanely fast!"
It was a spectacle they couldn't quite believe even watching it with their own eyes. That the men hadn't managed so much as a scream spoke to how precise every strike had been. To incapacitate four knights in a heartbeat, bare-handed and without a single weapon — Ian's feat bordered on the miraculous. Thanks to that, the Lizai and Rivai brothers, surely watching from somewhere in the crowd, had no need to step in at all.
"Ngh! WAAAAAAH!"
One of the lackeys, his eyes meeting Ian's, let out a shriek and bolted.
"M-me too — I'm out of here!"
Convinced they would be next, the rest of them scattered in a stampede. Injustice and rage churned in Jared's chest, but with all four of his escort knights knocked out cold, there was nothing he could do on the spot.
"Y-you'll pay for this later! Just you wait!"
Having promised a rematch, the young lord scurried off as fast as his legs would carry him.
"What a pathetic creature. And that's exactly why you don't cheaply drag grown men into a children's squabble. Let him try it one more time — I'll have him expelled for good!"
"When has he ever been anything but sneaky? If anything, it was so perfectly Jared I'm not even surprised."
"Fair enough, considering everything that boy has done. Still — Sir Ian, thank you! You've pulled us out of a real crisis."
In the meantime, Ian had carried the unconscious men off the bridge to clear the way for the pedestrians passing through, and now returned. For a man who had just felled four knights, he showed not the slightest trace of strain — his breathing hadn't even quickened.
"I merely did what needed to be done."