Teapots and Tree Trunks
Crown Prince Lindemann set down the book he had been reading and gave Bayul a warm welcome. This was already Bayul's second visit to the Crown Prince's palace—and this time, the two of them were completely alone.
"Have a seat."
Bayul took the seat the Prince indicated, his expression taut.
"You seem surprised to find us alone."
"Yes... a little."
Honestly, he had assumed it would be like last time, with Jared or somebody else in attendance. A private audience with the Crown Prince was something he had never once imagined.
"I called you here because there's something I want to ask. But it seemed like you wouldn't answer with anyone else around."
"...You have something to ask of me, Your Highness?"
"Yep. No matter how many times I think it over, I keep coming back to the same conclusion."
Crown Prince Lindemann lifted his blue eyes and looked Bayul dead in the eye.
"That was you, wasn't it?"
"...?"
"I can't explain it, but my gut says so. It keeps telling me—Bayul, it's you."
"I'm... not sure I follow...?"
Bayul couldn't make head or tail of the Prince's sudden remark. Out of nowhere—was it you? What on earth was he talking about?
"Ah, sorry. I got ahead of myself."
"Not at all. Please, go on."
"Teapot. Tree trunk."
The Prince spat out only the key words, without a shred of explanation.
"...!"
Bayul couldn't help but freeze. It was true that he'd had no idea what the Prince meant to bring up—but he had been certain it would be nothing like this.
"Just as I thought."
Crown Prince Lindemann, who had been studying Bayul's every move, broke into a knowing smile.
"That day was so strange, you know. A man gets scalded out of nowhere by boiling-hot tea, then pummeled by a tree trunk that drops without warning—and you're the only one who isn't startled. Calm? You were too calm, if you ask me."
"...D-did I... do that?"
"You're even more shaken right now. Like a man whose most important secret has just been found out."
"...A secret? I don't have anything like that."
"I hate talking in circles. And I can't hold in my curiosity, either."
The Prince's gaze stayed on Bayul for a long while.
"How did you do it? From what I hear, you've never trained in magic or the sword a day in your life. And with those guys, you did it on purpose, didn't you?"
Bayul said nothing.
"Quinn, was it?"
Quinn's name had just come out of the Crown Prince's mouth.
"Watching you at the banquet, the two of you looked very close—that merfolk boy. You were angry because he insulted Quinn, weren't you? Even I felt sick when that word came spewing out of his mouth. 'Fish stink,' of all things. Though I suppose that's hardly news where he's concerned."
Wow. Sharp as a blade.
Had I really been acting that obviously?
He had genuinely believed no one would ever find out. Because spirits were invisible to other people's eyes, he had evidently let his guard down more than a little.
"...Weren't you close with Jared, though?"
"Me and that guy? Ha!"
The Crown Prince burst out laughing.
"'Close,' is it... And what's your standard for that, exactly? Someone you see often? Someone you like? Someone you have to keep on good terms with? Which one is it?"
He asked lightly, as though tossing the question away, but there was genuine weight in his eyes. So Bayul answered.
"Someone you can open your heart to."
"...?"
"That's my measure, at least."
"Then no, we're not. With Jared, I mostly just say things I don't mean. What about you, then? Can I open my heart to you?"
The Crown Prince asked point-blank. What he truly meant by all this, Bayul couldn't begin to fathom—he only felt bewildered and off balance.
"You keep flinching like that. Do you dislike me or something?"
"N-no, Your Highness. That's not..."
When Bayul hastily shook his head as if the very idea were absurd, the Prince chuckled.
"You and Duke Randert really are nothing alike. Not in the slightest. How can a father and son be so different?"
"...I'm well aware."
"Ah, don't take that the wrong way—I mean personality. I've never once seen the Duke flustered. He keeps his composure in every situation, whatever it may be. Hiding his emotions entirely. That's something I, as Crown Prince, absolutely must do."
He seemed to sink into thought for a moment, then lobbed out another question.
"What happened between you and Jared in Carrington?"
"What... do you mean?"
"The duel. Everyone was whispering about it. It was the first time Duke Randert had ever stepped forward personally to call out Duke Hector, you see. People were worried sick that the two ducal houses might be heading for all-out war."
That would never happen—not now, not ever. His father had devoted his entire life to the peace of the empire. Unless Duke Hector committed outright treason, he was not a man who would ever light the fuse of civil war.
"But I know this much: Duke Randert is not a man easily shaken. He has never once stirred at any of Hector's provocations—so why now, all of a sudden? When a man does something he has never done before, there is always a reason."
And so Crown Prince Lindemann had picked the matter apart, piece by piece. What had changed from before? What could have provoked Duke Randert?
"The way I see it, the only new variable was you, Bayul. I don't know the details, but House Hector must have laid a hand on you. The duel was his answer to that—and a warning, too, that they had better not try anything again. Am I right?"
Bayul neither confirmed nor denied it. Frankly, it was staggering—the Prince had reasoned this far from a chain of circumstances alone.
"Anyway, that's incredible! And congratulations! Now that you and your father have had your revenge, nice and clean, those two will keep their heads down for a good long while. No wonder I'm in such a good mood myself."
Crown Prince Lindemann laughed out loud, flashing white teeth. Bayul was grateful the Prince shared his feelings—but considering who the other party was, laughing along was another matter entirely.
"You seem uncomfortable about what happened in the Winter Garden, so I won't press you on it. I'm tremendously curious and swallowing it down, mind you—so when the day comes that you can tell me, you'll explain everything in detail then. Deal?"
"...Yes, Your Highness. I will."
Bayul had been racking his brain over what on earth he could say if the Prince grilled him, so it was a relief to be spared.
"I've taken a liking to you."
"I'm sorry?"
"You can't stand Jared, can you?"
Bayul spared his words, but the Prince's face was already brimming with certainty.
"Even so, the way you kept speaking the imperial language to the very end, for the sake of a man who couldn't understand Ga—that left quite an impression. For a moment there, I thought of Duke Randert. Like father, like son, I thought."
Was that... a compliment?
"Yes, a compliment. I like that I can read you this clearly, too. I think you and I could be friends. Close friends, if possible."
The Crown Prince abruptly thrust out his hand.
"Let's shake on it."
Bayul rose at once and took it. Like or dislike was beside the point. Refusing the hand a Crown Prince extended could well have gotten him hauled away for insulting the imperial family. Bayul had no choice in the matter.
"And how do you find my uncle? He's a bit of an oddball, but he treats you well, doesn't he?"
What is this about now?
When Bayul's eyes went round with bewilderment, the Prince said:
"You said it yourself—you can only grow close by opening your heart. Now that we're friends, we ought to work at it. Share private things. Get closer."
"...?"
"...You really don't know? And here I was so sure you did."
Crown Prince Lindemann paused a moment, then explained.
"Rotius Jane von Winter. To you, he's your professor; to me, he's my uncle. Would it be quicker if I said he's my father's half-brother?"
"...Do you mean to tell me... Professor Rotius is of the imperial blood?"
"Yep. But you've seen him for yourself—the man is a singular specimen. He said he couldn't stand the stifling imperial court, stormed out, and decided to teach students in Carrington of all places. Do you have any idea how betrayed I felt back then?"
"B-but then why the different surname...?"
"Why it isn't Moore, you mean?"
The Emperor's half-brother would be a son of the previous Emperor. Naturally, he ought to have carried the imperial surname.
"He changed it himself. He said that going through life under the name Moore brought far more trouble than it was worth, so he cast it off. Father shouted himself hoarse trying to stop him, but it did no good. According to Grandmother, he's been impossible to manage since he was a boy."
Mimicking his grandmother's tone as he recounted the professor's childhood, the Crown Prince looked unusually bright. Bayul could sense the genuine affection underneath.
So that's why he asked me to become his friend.
Back when Bayul had been chosen for the delegation and visited Professor Rotius's office, the professor had said he hoped Bayul would become his friend. Now, at last, it made sense. At the time it had seemed utterly out of nowhere—but the professor had been worrying over his nephew all along.
"So when he called you 'someone he missed,' that's what he meant..."
"That's right. We hardly ever see each other. He does like to play at being busy. If it weren't for my birthday this time around, I doubt he'd have come at all."
Exchanging the occasional letter to ask after each other's well-being was all they had.
"Uncle Jane is someone truly precious to me. I'd like it very much if you got along well with him, Bayul."
There had been a time, after his mother passed, when the Crown Prince was going through hard days. His uncle had been there for him then, and it had been a great comfort.
"Professor Rotius was the first person I met at the Academy. He looked after me a great deal as a transfer student. In fact, it's thanks to him that Quinn and I ended up as roommates."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. He's popular with the students, too. He can be rather eccentric, but he's fun to be around, and he respects us as people. He's a good man."
For the Prince's sake, Bayul shared anecdote after anecdote about Professor Rotius from his days at the Academy. Most of them were so small and trivial that he wondered whether they were worth telling at all, but he gave his time gladly.
When he mentioned that the professor rarely bothered to comb his hair and went about in rumpled clothes, the Prince heaved a deep sigh.
"Even there, huh... People really don't change, do they?"
"Oh, right—Sir Hayes. What kind of person is she? Do you happen to know how old she is?"
That was when it happened. The Crown Prince abruptly turned the conversation to Sir Hayes.
"Where did such a phenomenal swordswoman even come from? Everyone's frantic with curiosity, digging everywhere, and yet not a soul knows a thing about her. You must have known for some time, no? Is she married, by any chance?"
He didn't know why Aidan's words, of all things, sprang to mind just then. It was utterly impossible to tell whether the Prince's interest in Sir Hayes was simple curiosity about her martial prowess—or fondness for her as a woman.
"Bayul, come on, tell me something. We're friends now, aren't we? Hm?"
He had gained yet another new friend at the imperial palace.
How much of what—and starting from where—should I tell this exalted friend of mine?
It was the moment Bayul sank into a dilemma all his own. Oblivious to it—or feigning obliviousness—the Crown Prince kept firing off questions, one after another.