An Invitation to Vergara
It was a sunny morning with a gentle breeze drifting through the air. Aidan came tottering along with a stack of collected books balanced on his head and spoke up with an air of great seriousness.
"So you're going to sing for Shame?"
"Yeah. If he gets embarrassed and vanishes halfway through again, it'll be a disaster. I still haven't even managed a proper conversation with him."
It wasn't that Aidan hadn't wanted to talk—there were a dozen things Bayul was curious about where Shame was concerned. He wanted to hear in detail how an earth spirit differed from a water spirit, and to see with his own eyes what kind of powers one possessed.
"Hmm. I think it's better not to rush things right now. It could backfire."
"Backfire? How?"
"I want to give Shame some time. My plan is to wait until he can appear before me at ease, and start training then."
"That's exactly what I'm saying, though. Wouldn't your singing put him at ease?"
"Well... if anything, I think it'd make it impossible for him to concentrate."
Bayul remembered his first encounter with Shame, who had been gazing at Eli as he sang. The spirit had fallen into such a trance that he'd forgotten anyone else was even present and simply drifted toward Eli. Proper training would never happen in that state.
"Besides, you saw it that time. He wouldn't come out even when he heard Eli's song."
"That's because he was hiding and listening. This time it'd be different—summon him first, then sing for him, so he can calm down."
"Ah, right. I completely forgot where we were talking about for a second."
In the usual pasture, Eli would have thrown an absolute tantrum. Once or twice might have been forgivable, but singing every night while wrestling with the stench was clearly asking too much. Even if he grudgingly agreed to do it, Bayul figured it was better not to bring it up at all rather than endure his complaints day after day.
"Ugh, he goes on and on about how awful it smells. Like he doesn't poop himself?"
"Rai's always been a bit of a neat freak."
"Neat freak? It's a full-blown obsession. A little wrinkling when you sit down and stand up is only natural, but he can't even tolerate that. Honestly, it's a disease."
"Still, isn't it better than being messy? He looks so put-together. I think it's nice."
"Whoa, hold on! Put-together? In Rai's frilly lace-drenched getups?"
"Excuse me? What about my clothes? What part, exactly?"
"Rai!"
Bayul hadn't even noticed Eli drawing near while he and Aidan chatted. At the familiar voice cutting abruptly into their conversation, he turned around, pleased.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why is it that you, Aidan, always manage to sound so insufferable?"
"That's not the point—isn't it your lecture hour? You should be headed to the next building, not here."
"I came to take care of something first. And why are the two of you together, anyway?"
As far as Eli knew, both of them were supposed to be in their own department lectures. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if they might be scheming something behind his back.
"We ran into each other on the way. He said the professor was looking for us."
"...The professor?"
"Yep. And here he is now."
Aidan raised a finger and pointed at a sign. On it was written: Professor Rotius Jane von Winter.
"Huh? You two got summoned by Professor Rotius too?"
"Then, Rai, you as well...?"
Eli's head whipped around sharply. And just then, a familiar figure appeared behind him and entered their field of view.
"Oh? Quinn's here too?"
And not just Quinn. In a line behind him were Logan and Elaine, Lubinsky, Shusuke, and even Lanasa. As it happened, every one of them was an honor student who had scored well on the recent exam.
"Don't tell me every single one of you is here for Professor Rotius?"
It took about a minute for Aidan's disbelief to become fact.
"Well, well. Everyone's here."
Professor Rotius made his grand entrance, hair mussed as if he'd only just woken up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Come on in."
He opened the door and beckoned them inside with a wave of his hand.
Ugh, the smell.
Professor Rotius's office was exactly as it had always been. The acrid stench of cigarettes stung the nose, and disorganized clutter lay strewn everywhere in filthy disarray.
"Let's air the place out first. Sit down over there."
It was much like their first meeting. As fresh air flowed in, breathing became somewhat more bearable. Conscience apparently prevailed—he didn't reach for a cigarette this time.
"Now, let's see. Mm-hm, everyone's here. All except one."
Taking his seat at the head of the room, Professor Rotius looked over his students' faces.
"You're all curious, aren't you? Why students from different departments and dormitories have been gathered here."
"...Could it be that we're going to Vergara?"
"What—you already knew?"
Professor Rotius, who had been swelling with the intent to surprise them, instead wore a startled expression of his own.
"I heard that students were to be invited to the Crown Prince's birthday party. Though I never imagined I'd be among them."
"Right. I don't know where the word leaked out from, but the imperial household has sent an invitation to celebrate Crown Prince Lindemann's eighteenth birthday. Apparently it's to be held as a formal coming-of-age ceremony, so it's meant to be quite meaningful. As a result, the academy's deliberation concluded with the decision to grant this opportunity to the first-year students."
"It's not just because the upperclassmen are busy, is it?"
It was a short-haired girl with a round face and gold-framed spectacles. Lubinsky, who had taken first place in the Administration Faculty on the last exam, pushed up her glasses and cut straight to the point.
"My, my. You knew that too, did you?"
Professor Rotius scratched his head sheepishly and continued his explanation.
"Do we really have to go?"
This time it was Lanasa. She had been sitting expressionless the whole while, and this was the first word she'd spoken.
"You'll have a great time if you do! A chance to visit the imperial palace of Vergara doesn't come around often, believe me!"
He wasn't showing it, but Professor Rotius was a little flustered. They were being sent as representatives of the entire academy to visit the imperial palace. An invitation from the royal household itself—in an ordinary situation, this was the kind of occasion where students would weep with gratitude and go on about honor.
Yet against all expectations, not a single one of them looked happy. If anything they should have been bouncing with excitement, but the mood in the room was bleak. In ten years of his teaching career, he had never once seen a sight like this.
"So you're saying we have to go?"
"There'll be a grand feast laid out through the whole party. And don't even get me started on the imperial orchestra—absolutely mind-blowing. I guarantee your eyes, your stomach, and your ears will all be treated like royalty!"
"...So you are saying we have to go."
"You'll regret it unconditionally if you don't. Trust me, one day you'll be thanking me for this."
"What benefits do we stand to receive?"
That he was offering no clear answer, only rambling explanations, meant the matter had already been decided. In that case, it was in their best interest to secure something concrete for themselves.
"A sharp question, Lanasa."
Professor Rotius smiled awkwardly for a moment before continuing.
"From now on, you will be known as the first-year delegation. Since you'll be traveling far as representatives of the academy, it will count toward your volunteer service points next semester. On top of that, you'll be named Students Who Have Brought Honor to Carrington and receive bonus points on your grades. Naturally, that will help your academic standing considerably."
Well? Pretty good terms, right?
Professor Rotius surveyed the students with a knowing smile. Not a single one of them showed the slightest sign of delight.
Tch. Deflating.
"Professor Rotius and Professor Blake will serve as chaperones. We depart tomorrow morning—carriages at the main gate to the station, then travel by train. Any questions?"
It was practically a notification handed down without the students' prior consent. For Professor Rotius, who prided himself on his bond with his students, this was far from his usual style—but there were reasons here he simply couldn't get around.
The so-called honor student delegation was, in truth, nothing but a pretty package. Most of them were children of the powerful. The only ones with no family ties to any faction were Quinn of the merfolk and Eli of gypsy descent—and even they had been pushed through on the flimsy excuse of keeping up appearances.
Professor Rotius had wanted to accept volunteers from among the students who hoped to join the delegation and respond to the invitation that way. The academy's opinion, however, differed.
This was a direct opportunity to forge a connection with the Crown Prince. Naturally, the nobles had leaned on the academy, and with most of its operating budget drawn from noble donations, the academy had no choice but to be mindful of them.
Professor Rotius himself was a hired hand drawing a salary, so in the end he had no choice but to do as those above him instructed. He had only hoped the children would be happy about it (on this point, he truly believed without a doubt that they would be)—and for that, he was sorry. It couldn't be helped.
"If there are no questions, we're done here. Class will begin shortly."
Professor Rotius had a first-period lecture today as well. Telling them not to be late tomorrow morning, he dismissed the group.
"Um—I have a question."
Once the students had all filed out, only Bayul and Quinn remained. Bayul, who had been lingering hesitantly in his seat, finally worked up the courage to ask.
"Unlike the others, I'm not exactly an honor student. Why was I chosen? Is it... because of my father...?"
It had been a long time since he'd spoken of his father. A presence he missed, yet one that frightened him all the same. Bayul was still not ready to face him.
"I won't hide it. There was a separate request made specifically for you, Bayul."
So it was Father after all...
"The Emperor wished to see you, is that it?"
"Wh-what? H-His Majesty...?"
When a stunned Bayul stammered the question back, Professor Rotius answered with a laugh.
"That's right. He must be curious. How the son of Duke Randert has grown up. Frankly, I've always wondered the same thing."
The son of Duke Randert.
The weight he had forgotten pressed down on Bayul once more. He had thought he'd changed so much, and yet he was still a coward.
"And you, Quinn—are you curious about the same thing?"
Professor Rotius turned his gaze on Quinn.
"I am."
"Your exam answers gave you away, you know. You never got too far ahead—but you never fell too far behind, either."
"......!"
"Because you didn't want to attract attention, am I right?"
Quinn had thought no one would ever notice. At this unexpected blow from Professor Rotius, his eyes wavered for the first time, visibly shaken.
"I know the merfolk face hardships here. I can't claim to understand all of it, but I understand some. That's why I brought you along. I wanted to help."
"...Help? With what, exactly?"
"Uh... that's a fair point, actually."
Quinn, a merfolk, visiting the imperial palace was tantamount to going there to be laughed at. Everyone would gawk at him as if he were a monkey in a zoo. Within the delegation, Quinn could serve no purpose other than being an exotic spectacle.
"Neither of you has ever been to Vergara, have you?"
Given Bayul's station, he should have gone ten times over by now—but knowing he'd been sickly since childhood, the professor had his guesses.
"Go and see it for yourselves. See just how beautiful and magnificent Vergara truly is."
Professor Rotius's expression turned suddenly grave.
"And when you meet the Crown Prince, tell him this: that you would gladly become his friends. I hope, with all my heart, that it comes to pass."
Telling them, out of nowhere, to become friends with the Crown Prince—it was a statement with neither head nor tail.
And yet, perhaps because of the sudden shift in the man's bearing, neither Bayul nor Quinn could dismiss his words as idle. He meant it, every word. Never before had they seen him so serious, so utterly sincere.