An Audience with the Crown Prince
"So you've finally arrived?"
Jared greeted him with false warmth, patting the seat beside him as if inviting Bayul to hurry up and sit. Just like before, the boy lounged around the palace as though it were his own home. He'd claimed that coming to the imperial palace was as routine as visiting a country estate, and from the look of it, he'd met the Crown Prince quite a few times as well.
Don't tell me the Crown Prince is cut from the same cloth as this one?
Bayul hadn't yet laid eyes on the master of the palace, but the moment introductions were exchanged, he realized the newcomer was hardly any different from Jared.
"And who's this?"
"What, I told you before, didn't I? The new transfer student."
"Ah, right. The twin brother—the one famous for collapsing left and right?"
"That's him. Bayul, say hello. This is Cezario, the second son of Marquis Drow. We've known each other since we were kids, so I just call him a friend, but you'd better attach 'my lord' to his name. He's got a temper as foul as his face."
"And what exactly is wrong with my temper! Why, just now, I graciously forgave a maidservant who was behaving in a most infuriating manner. Do you think I'm lenient just for you?"
"So you were rolling around in bed with a maid in broad daylight?"
"When has night or day ever mattered to what feels good? You do it when you feel like it."
"You lunatic. Coming all the way here just to pull that sort of thing."
"If you're jealous, just say you're jealous. And who are you to nag me, a man under house discipline? I'll knock you flat!"
Their bickering suggested they were more than ordinarily close. It was a world apart from how Jared treated his lackeys at the academy, and the level of their exchange was frankly unpleasant to listen to. If it hadn't been for the Crown Prince's summons, Bayul would have wanted to put distance between himself and the two of them immediately.
"Did someone lock your jaw? Why so quiet? Am I, your elder, supposed to greet you first?"
"...My name is Bayul."
He wanted nothing more than to keep his silence entirely, but he judged it wise to nip the trouble in the bud. Seated where he was, Bayul offered a slight bow of his head.
"That was a rather short introduction."
"He's always like that."
As Cezario's brows drew even tighter together, Jared winked at Bayul in a way that seemed to say, just bear with it.
"Well, if that's how you are, I'll let it slide. I'm Cezario von Drow, a second-year at Basilayev Academy. I was originally going to attend Carrington, far away from home, but when I heard this one was enrolling, I gave up on the idea—I had no desire to attend school alongside him. I'm not the type to go chasing after strays like this fool. Anyway, from now on, when you see me, you address me as 'my lord,' properly and respectfully."
"......"
"Are you listening? Why no answer?"
That, of course, was because Bayul had no desire whatsoever to call him "my lord." He knew that a year or so of seniority did make Cezario his elder, and that propriety demanded the honorific—but a strong sense of revulsion kept his mouth shut.
"Tsk. Your family upbringing is a mess, isn't it?"
"His mother died giving birth to him. Well, even setting that aside, there was nothing worth learning from a commoner woman anyway."
"That explains it. Still, there are limits to how far one can be insolent! You lean far too hard on your father's back."
The one who swaggered about like a thug, leaning on his family's influence, was none other than Cezario himself. Though he couldn't match the prestige of House Hector, the Marquisate of Drow was still a considerable power in the eastern reaches of the empire.
Kansas City, where Cezario's Basilayev Academy was located, was the empire's third-largest city—the greatest metropolis of the east and a border town where trade with the neighboring Ga Kingdom flourished. That very city was ruled by House Drow, a martial family that had produced renowned commanders for generations. Cezario's father, Marquis Drow, Bayul knew, had not reached the same Meister plateau as Duke Randert, but he was a capable warrior who commanded the respect of many soldiers.
"Hey, are you going to answer me properly or not? This really is—"
"His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived."
Just as Cezario was about to bear down on Bayul, an attendant announced the Crown Prince's entrance. Bayul and the two thugs shot to their feet.
"We'll settle this later."
Cezario glared at Bayul, grinding his teeth just loud enough to be heard. But Bayul had no spare attention for such things, too preoccupied with the tension welling up inside him.
This was the first member of the imperial family he had met since coming to the palace. He had received a thorough education in etiquette, but given who his counterpart was, he was afraid of making even the smallest mistake.
"Am I late?"
The Crown Prince finally stepped into the room. Crown Prince Lindemann, who would turn eighteen the very next day, was tall and strikingly handsome. Said to take after the Emperor and to prefer horseback riding and sword training over sitting still, he visibly radiated a well-honed physical strength even at a glance.
His skin was bronzed from the sun, the corners of his eyes tilted slightly upward, and his blue gaze was proud and brimming with vitality. Perhaps he had just bathed, for his damp golden hair swayed against his shoulders.
"Not at all, Your Highness. We only just arrived ourselves."
It was Jared, courteous to a degree that made Bayul wonder if he'd heard right. The boy cast off his arrogance entirely and bowed deeply to the Crown Prince.
"It is an honor to meet His Highness the Crown Prince."
When Bayul and Cezario had likewise offered their greetings, the Crown Prince smiled brightly and took the seat of honor.
"So you're Bayul?"
The Crown Prince's gaze went straight to him. His expression said everything—clearly, he had been very curious about Bayul.
"I'd heard you were frail, but you look healthier than I expected. That's a relief. It's good to meet you."
"...Forgive my late greeting. Even now, I am honored to meet Your Highness."
"You enrolled at Carrington Academy, I hear? Then you're in the same year as Jared?"
Where Bayul was tense, Crown Prince Lindemann's voice was remarkably friendly. A stranger might well have mistaken them for old acquaintances.
'Crown Prince Lindemann is a man of exceptional social grace. He was born with a talent for drawing people into his circle. Outside of official occasions, he tends to set aside both his rank and his authority when dealing with others.
But bear this in mind. He is the Crown Prince of the Empire. I doubt you would ever do so, but the moment you cross the line, you will see another side of him entirely.'
Bayul thought he understood what his uncle had meant. They had only just exchanged introductions, yet the Crown Prince's warm manner had already softened some of the wariness Bayul had carried with him.
"Yes, Your Highness. He's even in the same dormitory as me—Stone Lion."
It was Jared who answered on Bayul's behalf.
"Oh ho, Stone Lion? The one with that so-called Crow's Nest?"
Apparently Jared had told him plenty of academy stories, for the Crown Prince even knew about the Crow's Nest.
Curiosity got the better of Bayul, and on impulse, he brought the matter up.
Crown Prince Lindemann tilted his head. Seeing Jared's face stiffen, it seemed that was a story he had neglected to tell.
"Really? Something like that happened?"
The Crown Prince gave Jared a sidelong glance that plainly asked why he hadn't been told.
"Does Your Highness happen to enjoy chess?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
The unpleasant memory of that first night of enrollment—dragged along like luggage and forced to drink liquor he never wanted—surfaced, and Bayul frowned briefly.
Bayul caught Jared flinching at the Crown Prince's words. His silence suggested Cezario already knew about it, too.
"A game that's anything but ordinary, then?"
"It was a drinking game, Your Highness."
"You don't say!"
As though he'd grasped the situation at once, the Crown Prince let out a cry of delighted outrage.
"So the rule was that whoever lost had to drink whatever was in the cup they'd been caught with, I take it?"
"Yes. That was the first time I ever drank alcohol. It was called Blood of Dragon, I believe. They said it was quite famous—do you know it, Your Highness?"
"Of course I know it. And you drank that vicious stuff?"
Blood of Dragon was a liquor that even seasoned drinkers rarely dared to challenge. That such a drink had been forced on a student barely sixteen was absurd, almost comical.
"Who put you up to it?"
At the Crown Prince's question, Jared flinched once more. So this, apparently, was why one ought not live a life of sin.
Even knowing full well how wretched the boy was, Bayul felt a fleeting pang of pity. A very, very fleeting one.
"It's all in the past now. It was my first day at the academy, and I was tired, so I can't recall the face very well."
"Are you covering for him?"
"Not particularly."
It wasn't out of sympathy for Jared. Nothing would change even if he told the truth now. It would only make a scene, with Jared scrambling to squirm out of trouble behind a wall of excuses.
He had no desire to sour his first meeting with the Crown Prince that way. He had brought the story up impulsively, out of curiosity about the man's character—but that was all. He wished to leave it there.
"So how did the match end?"
Perhaps Bayul's feelings had come through, for Crown Prince Lindemann asked with a smile.
"I suffered a bit from the hangover, but I won."
"Oh, so you can play a decent game of chess."
"I learned from my father."
"I know well enough how Duke Randert plays his chess. He never gives an inch—I've never once beaten him."
"...Is that so?"
"Surely the son isn't any different? Because if he is, I might find myself a little put out."
"There's no need to feel put out, Your Highness."
He had beaten his father at chess plenty of times. But Bayil had always been there beside him then. Since Bayil left, he had never once played chess with his father. No—not just chess; he hadn't had a single moment of private time with him at all.
"Just as fair a man as I thought. That's why I respect him—and, ha ha!"
The sight of Crown Prince Lindemann laughing openly, without a shred of pretense, was genuinely striking. Bayul had carried a preconception that royalty must be somehow different from ordinary people, but he could hardly feel any difference from being around friends.
At the very least, he's not the same breed as that Jared fellow.
Relief washed over him.
"Come to think of it, this is the first time you've lived apart from your father, isn't it? How's dormitory life treating you? Are you managing well enough?"
"Yes. I've made some good friends."
Bayul said it while glancing deliberately at Jared.
He already knew that talking to a man who judged people by their birth was useless, however many times he tried. This was simply a warning: don't touch my friends again.
Of course, he doubted Jared would take it to heart—but given the setting, at least it would be etched clearly into the boy's mind.
"Good friends, hm. I'm envious."
"...Your Highness?"
For an instant, a trace of loneliness flickered across Crown Prince Lindemann's face, then vanished.
"Ah, that was just an old man's grumbling. There was a time, once, when I wanted to enroll at Carrington Academy myself. To enjoy the romance of campus life, you see."
He didn't go so far as to mention how he'd pestered his father for it. The idea of the heir to the throne attending a boarding academy was, from the start, a wish that made no sense at all.
"There's an academy in the capital, though. Why go all the way to—"
"This place is dull. And besides, I had a bit of a longing for dormitory life."
"Oh."
"And there's someone I miss, too."
'Someone he misses...?'
"Oh, right—didn't Jared also used to be fond of chess?"
The Crown Prince tossed out the remark out of nowhere, leaving Bayul lost in puzzlement, then abruptly changed the subject. He was happy for the interest, of course—but why chess of all things? Jared's face registered his flustered confusion in full.
"...Yes, Your Highness. I play from time to time."
"If you'll wait until I come of age, I'd be delighted."
It was Bayul who answered first.
"...And I would be glad to oblige anytime Your Highness wishes it, my lord."