A Pain Transferred
Perhaps because it was the middle of a weekday, the train bound for the imperial capital was surprisingly quiet. A few passengers were scattered here and there, but with so many empty seats, most of the first-year delegation, along with the escorting professors and staff, ended up gathered in the same car.
For Bayul, riding standard class for the first time, much of it was unfamiliar. The seats pressed side by side were cramped, and so hard that his backside ached. The windows didn't sit flush in their frames and rattled without pause, and from somewhere came the smell of livestock.
But perhaps that was exactly why — his first train ride with his friends — his heart, heavy at the thought of having to meet his father, also fluttered with excitement, as though they were setting off on a journey together.
He even caught himself wondering, just a little, how beautiful the imperial palace of Vergara might be, and what sort of person the Crown Prince he was to meet there would turn out to be.
Of course, not everyone shared that feeling.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but honestly, I didn't want to go."
Lubinsky was the first to air a grievance. "Professor Rothius said he'd give us extra credit, but how much could that possibly be worth? Next to all the time we're wasting, it won't amount to much."
"That remains to be seen. Besides, Professor Rothius isn't usually that stingy."
"Aidan, you're the one talking nonsense here. I've already looked into it. Some third-years went through something just like this last year, and they said every scrap of their time got eaten up and they suffered just trying to keep up with their classes."
True to her standing as the top student of the Administration Faculty, Lubinsky had finished her investigation in no time.
"I'm sure it'll be the same for me. By the time we get back, there'll be a mountain of notes waiting to be copied. What am I supposed to do if I botch my finals over this!"
That was her greatest worry. Studying was the only thing Lubinsky knew how to do. It was a miserable truth, but in her high-and-mighty family, only ranking first earned her so much as a scrap of her parents' attention. Not a son, and possessed of no exceptional beauty either — that was the only road to recognition she had.
"Coming from the girl who took the top spot in the Administration Faculty by a landslide, that's a surprise. Why not just try to enjoy it, since it's come to this? You'll be buried in books again the moment we return anyway."
"If it were that easy, I wouldn't be sitting here like this."
"When it's time to give up, giving up quickly is better for your mental health."
"Aidan, how did you manage to rank first while working at the library on top of it? Every time I passed by and saw you, I thought how impressive it was. I don't think I could ever have done it."
"There's a saying, you know. Fear not — when the deadline bears down, it all gets done somehow."
Aidan dropped his voice into an exaggerated growl as though imitating someone, and Lubinsky covered her mouth and giggled. When laughter crept onto that long-suffering face, Bayul thought it suited her far better.
"Bayul, what about you? Which trip to Vergara is this for you?"
"Huh? Me?"
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Bayul hesitated a moment before answering with an awkward smile. "...It's, um, my first."
"Oh, really? I'd assumed you'd been there plenty of times trailing after His Grace the Duke. I guess not."
Behind her spectacles, Lubinsky's eyes had gone round.
"When I saw you in Professor Rothius's office, you didn't look the least bit pleased, so I figured you'd been there so often you were sick of it. So you were worried about classes too, just like me?"
"...Yeah. Well, something like that. I'm still lacking a lot."
"Still, for a transfer student, that's more than respectable. Weren't you and Lanasa tied for first in Ga Kingdom language?"
He had missed exactly one question, so a perfect score had eluded him, but it was true he'd taken first place in his year. At the first Ga Kingdom language class after the exams, he and Lanasa had even received a round of applause.
"Lanasa, how do you feel about being picked for the delegation? Are you worried too?"
Of the whole delegation, Lanasa and Lubinsky were the only two girls. Perhaps because of that, the two had stuck together in the carriage and on the train alike — at times it almost looked as if Lubinsky were straining not to drift from Lanasa's side.
"Must be nice for you. For me it makes no difference either way. No one will spare me so much as a glance."
Before Lanasa could even answer, Lubinsky's lament rolled on. "Standing next to a pretty girl like you, would anyone notice plain old me? They won't give me the time of day. They probably won't even realize I'm there."
In truth, that was exactly why she wanted to go even less. She was afraid that whatever self-respect she had left would evaporate entirely. It wasn't that she disliked Lanasa, or envied her. When the gap is that stark, it is actually easier, and more comfortable, simply to accept it.
"Lubinsky, judging people by their looks isn't right. And you're plenty pretty yourself."
As though her friend's dejection had finally reached her, Lanasa's head — turned toward the window all this while — came around.
Though he gave no sign of it, Bayul was quietly stunned.
The tone was so gentle it was impossible to believe it had come from Lanasa, the Ice Goddess. He had never once imagined she had such a warm side. In all their encounters, all Bayul had ever received from her was an inexplicable coldness.
And those tears...
The first time he had met Lanasa had been on a train, just like this one. The sight of her sobbing, cursing a mother who looked exactly like her, was still vivid in his mind.
Had she made peace with her mother in the end?
Watching Lanasa across from him, Bayul found the idle question drifting through his mind for no reason he could name.
"Shut that damn mouth of yours!"
It was just then that the harsh curse rang out. Schuske, seated across the aisle, kicked back from his seat and surged to his feet.
"Here we go again."
"Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting."
Aidan and Lubinsky shook their heads and clicked their tongues in unison.
"I'd heard the Magic Department and the Theology Department didn't get along, but I never dreamed it was this bad. What on earth is wrong with them, that they're so desperate to devour each other?"
"You didn't know? The Bishop and the Head of the Magic Department are on terrible terms. They've sworn each other off entirely, or something like that."
"Still, there are limits. There are other people around. It's pathetic, honestly."
"The real mistake was shutting those two up in a cramped space together. Even we innocent bystanders feel suffocated — how comfortable do you think it is to sit facing your sworn enemy? Let's just bear it a little longer."
From Carrington to the capital, Panem, was a full day's journey by train. The train did pause at stations along the way for rest breaks, but from yesterday noon until this morning they had been locked in an endless contest with their uncomfortable seats.
As it was, Schuske and Elaine already had history — the two had fought in the Forest of Corruption over Amalun. That they should not only be included in the same delegation, but seated facing each other, of all things...
It had come about purely by the luck of assigned seat numbers, and with empty seats to spare, either of them could simply have moved first. Not that the crew hadn't told them not to.
But apparently each of them counted that as losing the fight, because instead of budging they had sat rooted to their places like fixtures, glaring and growling at each other the whole way here.
If there was one mercy, it was that Eli sat near the pair. Whenever their tempers boiled over, his deft mediation kept things from turning into real disaster.
Quinn and Logan's seats lay a little apart from the rest of the group, and for that Bayul was sincerely relieved. If Aidan and Logan had ended up side by side, it would have been worse than those two — or at the very least no better.
"Hah, all that big talk from someone without the guts to throw a single punch. Have you ever even used your fists in your life? One hit from that fist and I'd burst out laughing — it'd tickle!"
"What the hell? Has this bastard completely lost his mind? Does he want to die that badly?"
At Elaine's taunt, Schuske's face flushed red and mottled. Elaine, an aspiring paladin, was on the large side for his age, while Schuske, though tall, was painfully thin.
"If you're so wronged, why don't you go ahead and hurl a Fireball at me?"
Fireball was a third-circle spell. Naturally, it was beyond a first-year like Schuske. Even if he could manage it, unleashing an explosive spell inside a cramped train car would have been madness.
"See, that's exactly why there's no point learning useless magic like that. A bad head means the body suffers for it its whole life."
"I warned you plainly. I told you to shut that mouth."
"Oops — I forgot to mention, my mouth is mine to do with as I please."
At Elaine's needling, Schuske's whole body trembled. And just then, with a sudden clatter, the train plunged into a tunnel.
"From now on, I'll just help you remember — so you don't forget again."
It was a low voice, one only Eli, seated beside him, could have heard.
Wham!
And then came the sound that followed.
"Aagh! Did you just hit me?"
"Come at me, you bastard!"
It had happened before anyone could grasp it. In the darkness they could see nothing, but the dull thuds of fists flying back and forth rang out one after another. Nerves stretched to their breaking point, the two had finally let their feud spill over into outright brawling.
"Elaine!"
"Schuske!"
Eli moved to pull them apart, but it was no use. The moment the tunnel ended and the two returned to the world of light, they were tangled together on the aisle floor, raising havoc.
"You — you two, stop it! Professor! Professor!"
Lubinsky shrieked as she looked for Professor Rothius, but as ill luck would have it, the professors and staff had all gone to the dining car only moments before.
"You started this!"
In an exchange of blows, Schuske standing up to Elaine — who had strength and technique, and a bigger frame besides — had been a lost cause from the start. Elaine bore the strength-drained Schuske down onto the floor and straddled his stomach.
Wham! Wham!
Two or three punches were traded. The sound was so sickeningly wet that it made the skin crawl. In an instant, Schuske's face was smeared with blood.
"Somebody stop them! This is going to end badly!"
Elaine's fist rose into the air once more. A thought flashed through Bayul's mind — if that fist came down, a nose might well be broken.
"No!"
Bayul threw himself forward on instinct.
"Argh!"
But a terrifying force swept him aside, and he went down as though flung, his head and shoulder cracking hard against something. A groan burst from him before he knew it.
"Bayul!"
His friends' cries rang out from behind.
"Ugh!"
And the next moment, another cry tore from Bayul's lips. An excruciating pain had flared without warning in his finger.
"B-Bayul!"
Elaine went down under a kick from Logan, who had come running a moment too late.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
Quinn came rushing over as well.
"Bayul, your finger...!"
His friends all froze at once, as if on cue. What had struck him were his head and shoulder, yet whether he had braced himself wrongly against the floor, Bayul's right thumb was bent at an angle it should never bend. It was broken.
"Haaagh!"
Bayul clutched his forearm and moaned in agony. When panic runs deep enough, the mind's circuits sometimes simply cut out. That was his friends just now.
They had all gone mute, staring blankly, when Quinn abruptly scooped Bayul up into his arms. Then he charged for the door at the rear of the train.
First aid had barely even begun — what on earth did he think he was doing?
"Hey, Quinn! Where are you going!"
His friends scrambled after him.
Theirs was the last car of the train. For passengers' convenience, a small space had been set aside where four or so people could rest. Quinn laid Bayul down in the middle of it.
"Quinn, what are you...!"
"Block the door first. No one can see."
"...What?"
"I said block it so the others can't come this way!"
Quinn raised his voice as though angry, and though bewildered, Eli obediently shut the door and planted himself in front of it.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
"Be quiet. I need to concentrate."
Quinn answered Logan's frost-edged voice coldly and closed his eyes. It was the moment Eli and Aidan turned to each other, wearing expressions of utter bafflement.
"...!"
Incredibly, Bayul's broken finger was slowly beginning to creep back toward its proper place.
And in exact opposition, the thumb with which Quinn gripped Bayul's wrist began to bend in a direction it should not.
It was a scene too grotesque to deny. It felt as though Bayul's injury were being passed, bodily, into Quinn.
At some point, Bayul's groans subsided. Quinn, meanwhile — who had been perfectly fine — turned a sickly, mottled gray, and a low groan slipped out between his clenched teeth.
His friends watched the whole of it with eyes frozen in horror.