The Crown Prince's Invitation
"Oh, Bayul, you're here too! How long has it been?"
It was Liam, the younger brother of Duke Randert and Bayul's uncle. He rushed across the room and swept his nephew into a bear hug.
"Uncle, it's been a while. Have you been well?"
So he'd known all along. If Uncle knew, there was no way Father didn't. How on earth had word traveled from that far-off place?
"I nearly fainted when I heard you'd downed that wicked Blood of Dragon, but I knew you'd pull it off with style. You did our name proud, my boy!"
Delighted as he clearly was to see his nephew after so long, Liam pulled Bayul into his arms a second time.
"That's enough. Sit down, the pair of you."
It wasn't that the Duke was blind to his brother's affection for the boy, but he simply didn't have the time to spare. He had carved out this window with great difficulty just to see his son. Catching up could wait for another day.
"Yes, Brother. Forgive me—I was just so glad to see him."
Liam ruffled Bayul's hair fondly before finally taking his seat.
"I heard the gist of it outside. Jared crossed the line a long, long time ago. This time, he must not be allowed to slip away unpunished."
"I was thinking the same."
"Duke Hector is finally due a proper humbling. I, for one, can hardly wait."
"We're in Bayul's presence. Save that talk for later."
Bayul was terribly curious what the two men intended to do, but he had been taught it was impolite to butt in on his elders' conversation, so he sat quietly and listened.
Secretly, though, he was a little excited as well. He couldn't wait to see how his father would deal with House Hector. His father pursued perfection in everything he did; he never treated even the smallest task carelessly.
If only Jared would come to his senses over this, Bayul thought—and the grim awareness that he almost certainly wouldn't left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Bayul, as you no doubt know, His Majesty has extended you a personal invitation."
"Professor Rothius mentioned it. He said the Emperor seemed curious about how I was raised... is that correct?"
"So Jane said, did he?"
"...Jane?"
"Ah—Professor Rothius."
The Duke corrected himself so quickly that Bayul merely nodded.
"Yes, he said His Majesty was curious about me..."
"Bayul, you are your father's son. Son of the living legend of the empire, Duke Randert. I imagine you've heard that line a thousand times at the Academy?"
When Bayul only looked at him in silence, Liam went on with a gentle smile.
"I know what a burden it can be. Some days I feel it too."
"...You, Uncle?"
"He was that extraordinary, you see. I'm no slouch myself, wherever I go, but honestly? The gap between us is just that enormous."
"Liam."
"Hold your tongue a moment, Brother. This is a feeling only we can understand. You wouldn't know anything about it."
Even under his brother's pointed summons to stop, Liam stood firm.
"Wherever I went, all I ever heard was 'the Duke of Randert's little brother.' That hasn't changed a bit, even now that I'm past forty."
"..."
"But here's the thing, Bayul—it's not all bad, you know? When I was young it grated on me, being the yardstick he was measured against. But once I truly accepted the sheer scale of the difference, it became an incredible foundation all its own. Not a single soul dares treat me lightly. Oh? This isn't so bad after all. Do you know what your uncle did from that day on?"
Bayul shook his head.
"I leaned on my dependable big brother and bulldozed straight through whatever I wanted to do! Within reason, of course."
It would have been absurd to claim that Liam had built his standing in the council without any help from his brother, the Duke of Randert.
And yet Liam was a born politician. In his youth, with nothing to his name but his brother, he had faced down the grizzled old nobles of the chamber without flinching, pressing his convictions relentlessly—until, in short order, he made them recognize him as a noble in his own right.
He remained the Duke of Randert's brother, yes, but he had also become an accomplished statesman whose ability commanded respect.
"You're his son, so your case may be even worse than mine. I won't tell you not to feel the weight of it. But if you can't escape it anyway—well, isn't accepting it and enjoying the ride a far finer way to live?"
"I think I understand what you're trying to say, Uncle. That I shouldn't be afraid to stand before all the people who are curious about me."
"That's right. You catch on quick."
"...Am I really that weak?"
So different from my father, aren't I?
"Everyone has a weak side, boy. There's no shame in it."
Unable to bring himself to say "yes," Bayul only nodded. Perhaps it was facing his daunting father in this unfamiliar palace, but he felt as though every ounce of confidence he'd built at the Academy had evaporated.
"The banquet is in two days. Your uncle here will brief you on the dos and don'ts, so stick close to him and learn well."
There was nothing Duke Randert could do for him. Having been born his son, there was no way around it. The Duke could not cease to be the Duke, nor Bayul cease to be his son. Bayul would simply have to overcome it himself.
His son might be frail of body, but he was clever, and the Duke trusted that one day he would shed the heavy burden of having a father like him.
"It seems Brother has business of his own to attend to, so we'll be off."
"...I'll see you later, Father."
After that awkward farewell, Bayul rose and followed his uncle out the door. In the corridor, the knights saluted crisply at the sight of them.
Who is that?
Among them he spotted a familiar face—the female knight his father had summoned earlier. Hayes. With a precise bow, she let them pass and slipped inside.
"How are the new escort knights treating you? Any trouble?"
"No, they've been fine."
His uncle's questions came rapid-fire, but Bayul's mind was brimming with a different curiosity—what orders his father might have just given Hayes.
What's about to happen?
Given the place it was to happen in, he could only hope it went off without incident.
"The atmosphere in here is unreal! Masterpieces everywhere you look! Raoned, Goyo, Gustaph, Mangk, Rembrento—priceless works just hanging around like it's nothing!"
"Is that so? I don't really know much about painting."
"Aidan! Seriously? Of everyone here, your family is the richest—how can you say that?"
"What's that supposed to mean, Lubinsky? What does being rich have to do with paintings?"
"Doesn't your house have paintings like these too? I heard rich people collect expensive art."
"...Wait, those things were expensive?"
As Aidan tilted his head, Lubinsky gave him a look of pure disbelief.
"You have the paintings and you've never actually looked at them?"
"Never had much interest, honestly."
"This is exactly the problem with rich kids. You don't even know what you own. Leaving a masterpiece sitting unlooked-at is a waste, a waste! Ugh, it hurts me just to think about!"
"If it hurts that much, come by and look at ours sometime."
"What! Really? Can I?"
Lubinsky's narrowed eyes, which had been glaring at Aidan, flew wide open at this unexpected good news.
"Sure. Drop by whenever you've got free time."
"You mean it? You won't change your tune later?"
"Have I ever lived by deceiving people? It's hardly a difficult favor."
"Yes! Lanasa, Lanasa! You have to come with me sometime too. Okay? Okay?"
Thrilled, Lubinsky latched onto Lanasa and pestered her relentlessly.
"Your ordered drinks and cakes."
Two men in immaculate black suits approached the group, trays balanced in each of their four hands.
"Whoa, amazing! The teacups are glowing. The rim—is that gold? It's on the saucer too! Good heavens, this is so luxurious!"
Seven different drinks were set out on the enormous table. The moment Lubinsky laid eyes on the teacup of black tea, she cried out.
"I've never seen tableware like this in my life. It's so beautiful I don't think I can bring myself to drink from it! What do I do?"
"Lubinsky, you're being too loud."
It wasn't as if they needed library-level silence, but they were currently in the imperial cafeteria. It was a space shared by many people, so a certain decorum was non-negotiable.
"Ah! Sorry, Lanasa. I got a little carried away, didn't I?"
Only then realizing how loud she'd been, Lubinsky hastily clapped a hand over her mouth and hunched her shoulders.
"Aren't you the one who didn't want to come here? Last I remember, you complained up and down about it to Professor Rothius."
"Someone who didn't want to come couldn't be this amazed, could she?"
"No, sure, I can be amazed. It's just—you seem to be really enjoying yourself."
"It's not entirely good, but I'll admit a little. The facilities are far better than the dormitory. The lodging goes without saying, and everything here—the teacups, the cutlery, the tablecloths—is on another level entirely. When else would I ever get to use things like this? My house isn't rich like yours."
"Must you keep bringing up the money? Kindly remember that in reality I'm a poor working scholarship student who has to earn her own allowance."
"Pfft, you'll inherit it all anyway. Bayul, what about you? No interest in this kind of thing either?"
The arrow of conversation suddenly swung his way. Bayul, who had been sipping his coffee without a thought in the world, hesitated before answering.
"I don't particularly dislike it or like it, so I'm not sure how to put it..."
"Right. Well, I suppose your house has plenty of this sort of thing too."
He'd simply never paid it much mind, but Lubinsky seemed to be interpreting it in a completely different direction.
"What about Eli? You love flashy things."
This time it was Eli. Mid-sip of a drink the exact red of his own hair, he blinked. Me?
"Hmm... it's not bad, exactly, but can you really call this flashy?"
"...Excuse me?"
"It's a bit plain, if you ask me."
"What! You call this plain?"
In an instant, everyone—Lubinsky included—turned to stare at Eli in sheer disbelief. Differences in taste were one thing, but this was the imperial cafeteria, of all places. Even a single piece of tableware here was far, far removed from anything resembling ordinary.
"If this is plain, then what in the world counts as flashy by your standards? Let's hear it."
"Well, taking this teacup as an example—gold is a bit tiresome. It's too common, don't you think? If something like gemstones were set into it, it would sparkle more and be prettier."
"Gemstones?"
"Mm, rubies, or diamonds, that sort of thing?"
"Hey! What lunatic on this earth slathers diamonds onto a teacup? I've never seen such a thing, never even heard of one existing!"
Aidan exploded, and Lubinsky chimed in eagerly.
"Exactly! A gem-encrusted teacup? There's no way such a thing exists! Gems as expensive as diamonds belong in jewelry, not tableware!"
"They exist."
"...Huh?"
It was Quinn. He, who had stayed out of the conversation and quietly sipped his tea, pointed at his teacup and spoke.
"In the Mermaid Kingdom."