The Difference in Power
"Huh? Really? You really mean it?"
Bayul, who had always told her no, had finally given his permission, and Innocent tilted her head in disbelief.
'But you can keep it as subtle as possible, right?'
Innocent knew better than anyone how reluctant Bayul was to reveal her in front of others. For him to make a request like this could only mean he was truly, thoroughly angry.
"Heehee — oh, they picked the wrong person to mess with today!"
She'd been bored out of her mind anyway; time to show them what she was made of. With a guileless peal of laughter, Innocent soared up into the air.
"Forgive me if this is an improper turn of phrase in front of such distinguished company, but that creature is hardly ordinary. The sight of her — ignorant of her own station, yet affecting such lofty refinement — is truly a marvel to behold."
"For a lowly mermaid to dare live alongside humans at all — the sheer audacity of it is laughable."
Even Cezario piled on. Having recovered from his brief awkwardness over the Ga Kingdom tongue, he chimed in with the rest of them.
"What's the matter, Bayul? Cat got your tongue? You've got plenty stacked up against that fish-stinking brat yourself, don't you?"
'Fish-stinking?'
The Crown Prince's brow furrowed at the remark, which had gone well past the line. Grace and Princess Hwiwol frowned at the same moment. That was when Innocent moved.
"Don't you daaare call Quinn a fish-stinking brat!"
Jared, who had been chuckling as he raised his teacup to his lips, let it slip clean out of his hand. More precisely, the tea in the cup lurched without warning, sloshing over the back of his hand — and then the steaming water spilled straight down onto his thigh.
"Ow — hot!"
Jared shrieked and flung the cup away. That hasty movement invited a second catastrophe: the table jolted, and the teapot resting on it went sliding toward him.
"AAAAAGH!"
The culprit was the freshly poured water. The pot's contents gushed out in a rush and soaked straight between Jared's thighs.
"Eek — damn it all...!"
The skin there seared, and with it came a pain beyond all description. Bent double, Jared spat curses at the maid.
"I-I beg your pardon! F-forgive me, please!"
Guilty of nothing, the maid prostrated herself flat on the floor, trembling violently. She had only done what she always did — replaced the water with cold, so that the distinguished guests might enjoy their tea at its best.
But her charge was the son of Duke Hector. Having reduced the duke's sole heir to this state, she was as good as a dead woman.
SPLAAASH!
At that moment, a long wooden trunk came hurtling down upon Jared. Like some unseen hand cracking a whip, it lashed across his back with tremendous force.
"URK!"
He crashed face-first to the floor, his forehead striking the ground with a heavy thud.
And it did not end there. The trunk rebounded high into the air once more, and this time it streaked toward Cezario.
"Wha—!"
He tried to dodge, but for some reason his feet would not move. The trunk barreled straight toward his terror-warped face.
"GAAAAH!"
In an instant, the room descended into pandemonium. Two boys who had been perfectly fine moments before now writhed in agony, unable even to open their eyes. The Crown Prince was so startlead that for a moment he could not tell whether what he was seeing was real.
The trunk that had struck Jared and Cezario gradually slowed after that, until at last it hung limply, swaying from the ceiling.
"Q-Quickly — carry them to the temple!"
The Crown Prince, who had stood frozen by the sudden turn of events, snapped to his senses and barked the order; attendants came running and hurried the two away.
"Big brother, I'm going too!"
"Grace, come with me!"
Even flighty Grace understood the gravity of the situation. A noble had been injured — and not just any nobles, but the sons of Duke Hector and Marquis Drow. This had to be contained before any misunderstanding could take root.
"Grace, I'm counting on you."
As he watched his sister and Princess Hwiwol hurry out of the room, Crown Prince Lindemann's face was harder than it had ever been.
He had somewhere else to be. He needed to see his father at once.
The distance from his palace to the temple was considerable, and there was no telling whom he might cross on the way. This imperial palace, thick with watching eyes and listening ears, had — of all days, on his very birthday — gathered more eyes and ears than ever before.
Reporting directly to his father before any strange rumors could spread was the only right course.
'Why on earth would all of these accidents erupt at once?'
The Crown Prince's eyes, fixed on the shattered teacup and the limp trunk draped from the ceiling, were brimming with questions. It would actually have been easier to believe that someone had set all of this in motion deliberately.
'Truly uncanny. As if the devil himself had a hand in it.'
Shaking his head, the Crown Prince turned to go.
'Hm?'
Then something strange caught his eye.
'Why isn't he the least bit startled?'
His own heart was still hammering, and yet Bayul looked utterly serene. Come to think of it, even in the middle of the accident itself, the boy had been remarkably composed — he hadn't let out so much as a single cry. As though he had known in advance that all of this was going to happen.
"AHAHA! Now that's what they deserve! Bayul, I did great, right? Right?"
'Thank you, Innocent.'
"Woohoo! Revenge complete!"
'And thank you as well, Shame.'
"......."
He hadn't imagined that Shame, too, would join in the retribution. The method had been a trifle rough, and it had startled him a little — but Bayul decided not to dwell on it.
These were wounds that would vanish soon enough with treatment. Compared to the price for all the scorn and contempt Quinn had endured, this much pain was positively cheap.
'I won't just keep turning the other cheek from now on.'
Unaware of the way the Crown Prince's eyes lingered on him, Bayul made that vow to himself, alone.
The Crown Prince's coming-of-age celebration was held in an outdoor hall of staggering size. Unlike the city below, parched by a drought that had lingered for far too long, this place was a festival of water.
Water leapt skyward from dozens of fountains that had run dry until only yesterday. The channels, long sealed off to prevent any waste of water, had been opened in honor of the Crown Prince's coming of age.
Laughter never left the faces of the assembled nobles at the rare spectacle. Young and old alike stretched out their hands to splash and play in the streams.
From one side of the hall, the imperial orchestra poured out one merry tune after another, and the cuisines of every nation on the continent glittered across lavish buffets, delighting eyes and palates alike.
Bayul and his friends had settled into a spot not far off, working their way through a late lunch.
"Have you all heard the news from yesterday? I'm told Prince Jared and Prince Cezario, after paying a call on His Highness the Crown Prince, were gravely injured and are now receiving treatment at the temple. Whatever could have happened?"
"I heard the rumor as well. They say the wounds resemble whip marks. Surely His Highness didn't take a lash to them himself?"
"Oh, come now. However grave their offense, he could never punish the two young princes like that. Do you imagine Duke Hector and Marquis Drow would simply stand by and allow it?"
"True enough. What manner of man is His Highness, that he would commit such a blunder? He'd never do anything that could be held against him in the first place — much less with his coming-of-age right before him."
"Don't say you weren't told! They say His Highness was furious clear to the crown of his head and hurled a teapot full of scalding water! Why, Prince Jared suffered burns on top of everything else!"
"Goodness gracious! Is that true?"
"That's not the half of it, you know. That didn't quell his anger one bit, so he thrashed them wildly with a whip, or so they say. Everyone swore they'd never once seen His Highness in such a state."
"Well, the account I heard was that it was an accident."
"An accident?"
"Yes. You all know of His Highness's Winter Garden, I trust? He had invited Princess Grace and Princess Hwiwol there, and they were all taking tea together when suddenly a tree came falling from the ceiling and struck the two princes down."
"You mean the vines that cover the ceiling of the Winter Garden?"
"Yes, madam. Whatever the cause, they say it came loose and thrashed the young princes fiercely, like a coachman swinging his whip."
"Oh dear, how dreadful! His Highness and Her Highness the Princess might have been in danger as well. Thank the heavens they came to no harm."
"His Highness very nearly suffered grievously himself, and yet in some tellings he's made out to be the perpetrator. Some slanderous faction must have invented the whole thing. We ought to find out at once just where this started!"
"I can't vouch for this part, mind you — but amid all that commotion, a teapot of hot water is said to have toppled over and spilled right onto young Jared's thighs."
"Oh my — his thighs?"
"Oh dear, however did that...!"
"If anything were to go wrong there...!"
"Shh! What will you do if someone overhears? I told you it isn't certain."
"There's no one here but us. Who's listening? Do relax. We'll keep our lips sealed tight, every one of us."
"Naturally, I trust the ladies here without question. But as they say, walls have ears. Let's steer clear of such delicate matters, shall we?"
"Well, since it's come up — they say His Highness invited young Lord Bayul there as well? What, I wonder, is the nature of things between those two?"
"You mean Prince Jared and Prince Bayul? Hmm, I can't claim to know that either. They're both first-years at the same academy, so you'd think they'd be friends — but seeing them keep so far apart, I'd wager they're rather like their fathers."
"So those two are at odds at the academy as well, then?"
"If he were worried for him as a friend, surely he would have accompanied him to the temple, no? Yet I haven't heard a whisper of anything of the sort from anywhere."
"Why, the boy was so frail from childhood that he practically lived at the temple. Perhaps the very thought of the place turns his stomach."
"All that talk about Lord Bayul had me picturing some delicate little creature, but he's nothing of the sort — what a surprise. A touch thin, perhaps, but he hardly looks like an invalid, does he?"
"Precisely. He lacks the boisterous energy typical of boys his age, but I'd call him composed, I suppose? There's a dignity about him already — reminiscent of Duke Randert, and yet somehow different. His father's son through and through, I thought to myself."
"Oh, come to think of it — Viscount Briton's daughter was selected for the delegation this time, wasn't she? Have you heard anything from her at all?"
"Ah, but my daughter is such a quiet little thing, you see."
"How wonderful for you. Merely to graduate from Carrington Academy would be an honor in itself — and a top student there, besides! You must have educated her splendidly."
"Ho ho. Education, my foot. She was going so far away to study that I only ever hoped she'd stay healthy — and then she seized first place in her entire faculty on the very first examination. Her father and I were both beside ourselves."
"Goodness — first in her whole faculty? No mere honors student, then!"
"Remarkable! Congratulations once more, madam."
"That girl with the cropped hair and the spectacles — that's your daughter, yes?"
"Yes, that's her."
"Then the girl beside her must be Viscount Bostridge's daughter. I heard she came with the delegation as well. They say the young lords would all lose their heads over her looks, so she was kept carefully hidden away from childhood — and it seems no exaggeration at all. How can anyone be so graceful, so beautiful? Even I find myself smiling just looking at her."
"Could anyone look upon her and not smile, I wonder?"
"True, quite true. At this rate we ought to call it not an honors delegation but a delegation of flower-like beauty. I laid eyes on the merfolk for the very first time today, and my prejudices were shattered to pieces. I never once dreamed they could be so elegant, so aristocratic. Those fin ears aren't the least bit strange — they're downright striking!"
"And what of the red-haired boy? I nearly fainted the moment I first saw him. Today I learned that beholding something too beautiful can give you actual chills."
"He and I met eyes for just a moment earlier, and I went red as a beet like some silly schoolgirl — I was mortified with myself."
"You're hardly the only lady blushing today, my dear. Half the hall will be blushing right along with you, so don't be so ashamed."
"All the same, poor Lady Catherine must be absolutely wretched. She'll have dressed to the nines for the first grand party the imperial family has hosted in an age, only to have every gaze in the room drawn to that boy. How her blood must be boiling."
"Well, she's had her years to enjoy it. It's high time she yielded the title of Goddess of Beauty, I'd say."
"If they were to hold a fresh vote, I should cast mine for that red-haired boy without a moment's hesitation."
"As would I."
"Hehe, count me in as well."
"By the way — whose child did they say he was? Is there anyone here who knows the family?"
"Hmm. Judging by the company he keeps, he can hardly be from some middling house, but I couldn't say for certain."
"Lord Bayul, heir to House Randert, alongside the Leonett family and even the house of Count Seymour — a truly formidable lineup."
"Considering that not one of us knows a thing, perhaps it's a house that has kept quietly apart from central politics all these years."
"Or perhaps they're quite well known out in the provinces."
"This won't do at all — someone really ought to go over and ask them..."
"Going alone would be a bit much, though..."
"Then all of us together, then..."