The Festival

"You okay?"

Seiban asked, frowning at Aslan's face.

Those eyes had always been sharp, sure, but the rest of him had always brimmed with life. Now that face looked like half of itself, and even those once-intimidating eyes were buried under such brutal dark circles that it was almost pitiful.

Aslan, who'd been mumbling the words on the paper in front of him with a half-vacant stare, lifted his head as if it weighed a ton.

"Today's the last one."

"Yeah — last one of your life, by the look of you. You actually sleeping?"

"I slept a bit yesterday. Like two hours?"

A bit. Two hours.

Seiban cut back on sleep when exams rolled around too, but never to Aslan's degree. Of course, a guy with no academic foundation whatsoever had to pour in far more hours than anyone else if he wanted a decent score — still, this was too much, and Seiban couldn't help worrying.

"I was gonna take you somewhere nice after exams. Guess sleep's gonna win that fight, though."

"Yeah. Once this is over, I'm sleeping for two days straight."

"Exams ending doesn't mean the academy schedule's over."

"Don't care. I'm sleeping."

Exhausted or not, the attitude was the same as ever. Seiban found it admirable, watching a friend push himself this hard.

Aslan's miserable grades had always been a sore point for Seiban too, but as a close friend who knew exactly why things had gotten this way, it wasn't something he could easily bring up.

It had been half-coercion, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sure — except nobody had ever been able to force Aslan into anything. Rai had managed it.

Figuring the guy was just that good at handling people, Seiban helped Aslan cram.

The last exam was Monster Taxonomy. If you could memorize the material, a good score wasn't hard to come by.

When the test was over, Aslan checked his answers. In his entire life, this was the first time he had ever gone back through a finished exam to see what he'd gotten right.

The rumor that scoring under seventy would get you thrown out by Rai was already famous among the Class A students, so a crowd of them packed in around Aslan's desk to match answers with him.

"Number forty-seven is black slime."

"Damn it. I second-guessed myself and changed it."

Aslan rode every question like a wave — soaring, crashing — all the way to the end, then tallied the score. Everyone watched with bated breath. Philia, who had already run the numbers while they were checking, smiled faintly and slipped away from her seat.

"Eighty-six..."

"Whoa... so I'm dumber than Aslan?"

"Who said that? Who just called themselves dumber than me?"

If you pointed out that eighty-six was the highest score of his life, it would have sounded a little pathetic — but Aslan was overjoyed. His average so far had been sitting at seventy-two, so he'd felt reasonably safe, but bombing this last exam could have changed everything. Clearing seventy-two and landing the best mark he'd ever seen, he clenched his fist.

"Yes! I did it!"

"Congrats."

The other students piled on their congratulations as Aslan lit up. Jacking an average of thirty points in one go was no small feat.

"Raikkang! I broke seventy!"

Aslan bellowed it the moment Rai stepped into the lecture hall, exam paper held high. Rai stared at him for a beat, then clenched his own fist in delight.

"Yesss. I won the bet."

"...The bet?"

"Huh? What bet?"

"You just said you won a bet."

"No I didn't?"

Aslan and the rest of the class fixed Rai with a collective look of ice. Rai, who had been heading for the lectern, caught that freeze and pivoted straight back toward the door.

"Uh— no announcements. Scatter. See you tomorrow."

"Hey! Hold it!"

Rai bolted. Aslan tore after him.

"..."

"Looks like I've got something to report to Vice Principal Bright."

At Cesset's words, the students who had been sitting in silence all nodded.

Not long after the exams, the academy's first semester came to a close.

Mia, who had been bracing for disaster, posted fairly high marks outside of the practicals, and Zeroa's scores had climbed since last time. It was a finish that left everyone satisfied. The students had, thankfully, earned the right to keep training under Rai, and Aslan — finally able to set that weight down — felt light enough to float.

"Gimme some money. I'm buying drinks."

"Did I leave it with you? Pretty bold for a guy living off my roof."

"You used me for a bet. Least you can do is cut me in."

"It's been a week already. How long are you gonna milk this? I already blew it keeping you lot fed. And I didn't bet on you — I bet on the class average. You were just an accessory."

Rai and Aslan were bickering in the garden when Cesset burst in, shouting.

"Raikkang! Raikkang! It's the festival! The festival! What are you doing slumped around on festival day? Come out and play!"

"You said you had something planned. That was today?"

"Why the dead-fish face? I said festival! The Legandia Festival!"

Rai's reaction was so tepid that Cesset blew up at him.

Legandia was one of the Empire's foremost cities. Some would have called it the finest in the Empire, but you could hardly claim it had outstripped the capital where the emperor sat, so "foremost" was the modest phrasing people used.

Geographically it occupied the Empire's northernmost edge, with no natural advantage to speak of — and yet Legandia had kept growing, with the academy at its heart. It had been founded as a planned city by imperial decree, which meant a flood of settlers and a population to match, and once the academy went up, talent poured in from every direction.

A single noble academy student arriving in Legandia brought along a dozen more — instructors, attendants, estate stewards. Some of them bought residences, but most rented, and the rental trade was handsomely profitable. Money circulating in the streets fed commerce; magic tools and equipment aimed at academy wallets flooded the market; and logistics naturally bent toward Legandia. The roads laid down when the city was founded had been well maintained, so goods moved fast.

It wasn't commerce alone. Academy lecturers were required to publish a research paper every two years, and the work of elites retired from the field drew other scholars in droves. People said the two cities with the most academics on the continent were the capital and Legandia. Add a dungeon that adventurers made a point of visiting at least once, and the fact that it was the emperor's direct territory — meaning the streets were safe — and the picture was complete.

Look at a map and there was nothing distinguished about the region at all. Tally it up around the academy, piece by piece, and the strange thing would have been if it hadn't flourished.

And so, every year, the city that had grown that way spent three days thanking the founding emperor on the anniversary of its establishment. Merchants chasing a killing, tourists come to gawk — Legandia, already crowded, packed itself to bursting. Countless faces, rarities you might see once in a lifetime, clowns who could make a whole street laugh, strange animals. People said anyone visiting the founding festival for the first time fell so deep into a new world they didn't climb out for a month.

Arrive late and you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't even find a room, so plenty of visitors showed up a week early, and the shopping district threw manpower at the preparations to catch the boom. It wasn't on the scale of the capital's festivals, which were bankrolled by the national treasury — but outside the capital, nowhere else put on a celebration of this size.

"...Why 'Paradise'?"

"I just made that up. Ugh — is that really the point right now? The point is that today is the festival!"

Cesset had walked him from ancient history all the way to the festival ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠itself, and Rai's lukewarm face made her snap.

"Go play among yourselves."

"You romance-less husk of a human being!"

"Romance or not, you're in the way. Get lost."

"Ahhh! These poor youths! While the rest of the world revels, they languish here, inhaling the stench of stale sweat, subjected to physical torture! Ah! How can the heart not break!"

Finding Rai impossible, Cesset swept toward Zeroa and Philia — who were in the middle of training — and delivered the speech in full theatrical register, then covered her face with both hands and wailed.

"Isn't it pitiful? It's pitiful! Raikkang! Do you truly mean to torture these young people under the blazing sun?!"

"...What's your angle?"

At Rai's question, Cesset shut her mouth and flicked her gaze aside. She fidgeted with her laced fingers and spoke in a shy little voice.

"Sugar daddy? Walking wallet? Which one's more your speed?"

There was nothing shy about the content. Rai looked at her like she was a lost cause. Cesset's knees buckled; she crumpled to the ground and let herself flop bonelessly onto the dirt.

"But... I don't have any money... Grandfather said he won't be back until after the festival. And it's all Raikkang's fault."

"How is it my fault?"

"Because you hogged all the gambling! Do you even know how much I lost?!"

"Your choices are your own. And you placed those bets. Why is that on me?"

He hadn't told her to gamble. He hadn't told her to bet the other way, either. Being blamed for it anyway left Rai speechless.

She'd won a few times, sure — and then she'd met the gambler's usual end. Cesset lamented to the sky.

"Damn it, I should've trusted the favorite... Why did I have to put it on the long shot..."

"You, stay away from gambling."

Philia was focused on her training, but her ears were clearly open; she gave a small nod as she swung her sword.

Cesset, who had been beating the ground in anguish, looked up at Rai.

"Raikkang made a killing. Your wallet's stuffed."

"What are you talking about. Instructors aren't allowed to gamble."

Coming from a man Bright had once chewed out within an inch of his life over gambling, it was not a persuasive line. Cesset crawled up him from the ground, caught hold, and peered up with a wicked little smile.

"Is thaaat so~? There's been a rumor lately about a little wager on the grades. I wonder whose pocket that money ended up in?"

"...I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't know."

"Aha~ I wouldn't know either. Shall I go ask the Vice Principal?"

Rai caught her by the shoulder as she turned. She looked back with a sunny face. He smiled the exact same smile.

"Shall we go enjoy the festival?"

"Now you're speaking my language."

Cesset latched onto Philia's back and crowed that she'd just scored them a payday. When her eyes met Rai's — whose mouth-corners were twitching — she declared, utterly shameless,

"Got a problem?"

"You think I don't?"

"You shouldn't! The academy's universally acknowledged pretty girl, Cesset, is inviting you to a festival — try looking a little happier! Ah, not Raikkang's type, is that it? Don't worry, there's a pretty girl with a generous chest right here too."

"Cesset!"

The moment she was mentioned, Philia clapped her hands over her chest and shouted at Cesset.

With the festival outing now a settled thing, Aslan rose from his seat.

"Would you look at this bastard getting up like it's the most natural thing in the world."

"While we're out, you're buying drinks too."

Aslan, who'd been itching to hit the festival, grinned. Rai got to his feet with a look of deep resignation. Zeroa and Mia packing up at speed suggested they'd been hoping for this all along.

Abigail alone stared at them, face full of complaint, then sighed and said she'd keep training. Leaving her behind, Rai herded the rest of the students down into the city.

As a planned city, Legandia's roads were wide except in the back alleys — and even so, Rai could see nothing but an endless sea of heads. How many people had poured in? Shopkeepers hawking their stalls, festival-drunk voices bellowing over one another, a thousand sounds stacked until the whole street roared.

Rai was staring, faintly nauseated, at a crush of bodies packed tighter than a military close-order formation when Cesset spoke up, visibly proud.

"See? If you come to Legandia, you have to experience this at least once. I enrolled at the academy just to see this festival."

"If that's what you got in for, the kids who failed must be furious."

"Survival of the fittest! If you want something, take it by force!"

Cesset struck a muscle pose with her feeble arms, then dropped to one knee toward Rai and held out a hand.

"Your Highness, the enemy swarms without number. We must raise an army to hold them. They brandish weapons never before seen and flaunt provisions of shameless abundance. This Cesset shall burn herself to ash to destroy their arms and their stores. Bestow upon me the war chest, I beg you."

It was a long speech that amounted to: give me money so I can enjoy the festival.

Rai looked down at Cesset — far more worked up than usual, festival fever and all — then glanced at Philia. She was pretending to browse a stall, too embarrassed to meet his eye.

He sighed under his breath and set a single gold coin in that tiny palm. Cesset answered in a voice of grave solemnity.

"Your Highness— the enemy's momentum pierces the heavens, and with this paltry sum I can barely... Hehe, thanks, Raikkang!"

Rai tossed her another gold coin just to make it stop. Cesset sprang up, bowed her head, hooked her arm through Philia's, and marched off.

"Your Highness..."

"I'll kill you. Don't."

Aslan, who'd been about to copy Cesset, broke into a giggle at Rai's stone-flat warning.

"Don't forget you're buying drinks, though."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's drink ourselves to death tonight."

Aslan kept at the drinks like a dog with a bone, and Rai finally surrendered.