The Beaming Fair - 1
With the fair just around the corner, I was busy myself—both as auditor and as advisor.
As an apology for wasting her time last time by feeding her cookies, I worked alongside Margeta through the afternoon hours as well, and I started sharing a few cookies with her whenever she came by the club room. Watching her refuse them only to end up eating them anyway left me feeling rather proud.
Margeta seemed to like it too; after finishing her cookies and heading out to work together, she looked to be in high spirits. I ought to take even better care of her from now on.
"The club booth assignments are finished, so the Student Council's work is done."
Margeta and I walked the Academy grounds, surveying the areas where the club booths would stand. Factoring in each club's size and character, accessibility, and the expected crowds made assigning locations the most troublesome job of all. The booth distribution had been harder than the budget headaches.
The Baking Club's booth, in particular, had been the crowning challenge. They had the fewest members, yet those members were of the highest possible station, and a portion of their escort force had been brought in under the guise of extra hands. We had to tuck them somewhere quiet enough to keep them from being swallowed by the throng, yet still respectable enough for their rank—and easy for outside guests to reach.
Juggling every one of those conditions had been enough to drive a man mad. Fortunately, the Student Council president had put in the extra effort and secured the Baking Club a fine spot.
I was already looking forward to what would come after the president graduated. She would make an excellent imperial civil servant and work herself hard. A truly welcome prospect. New slaves were always appreciated.
With the final booth checked, the Student Council's official duties were complete. Having to do this every year must be exhausting for them.
"You've worked hard, Mar."
"You've worked hard as well, Young Master Karl. Thanks to you, it was easy and pleasant."
"Not at all."
In truth, I had done little more than skim a few documents and trail along when Margeta went about her rounds. Being thanked for hard work felt almost embarrassing.
Still, finishing a project left me feeling lighter. If only the fair itself could pass without incident, everything would be perfect.
Until yesterday I had wanted it to start as soon as possible; now that it actually had, the first day of the fair already felt like a nuisance.
"We're a brand-new club this year, so we won't aim too high. Sell everything, and break into the rankings—that's the goal."
"That still sounds like aiming pretty high," Tanian muttered quietly as I addressed the members gathered at the Baking Club booth. There was no help for it. That really was the minimum.
Everything we made had to sell. Otherwise I would be stuck dealing with the leftovers. We also needed a ranking-worthy performance at the fair. The ranking combined club sales with evaluations from students and outside guests; failing to place wouldn't matter much, but if we were going to bother, better to leave a good result behind.
"Your skills have improved with all the practice. There's nothing lacking, so have confidence."
The members, who had been steadily getting better, had finally managed to produce a solid flavor. That the taste had improved was backed by Villar's objective testimony, so it could be trusted.
I wrapped up my role as advisor with a suitable round of encouragement. Honestly, just handling everything they'd baked so far had already fulfilled my duties. Where else would you find an advisor like me?
"Everyone, let's do our best! We've given it everything, so good results are sure to follow!"
After me, Manager Luise boosted their morale. From their perspective, her words would carry more weight than mine anyway.
I watched quietly for a moment, then deliberately looked away. I had kept my mouth shut lest they grow complacent and wander off from the booth, but the moment customer evaluations entered the ranking criteria, the Baking Club was structurally guaranteed a top spot.
Giving a harsh review to a club that included imperial royalty, a royal prince, and a saint candidate? Anyone that maladapted to a status society would never have survived this long. Placing in the rankings or not didn't matter; they would land there just by breathing. A miraculous system.
Clubs that had prepared earnestly might find it unfair, but what could be done? This, too, was part of the skyrocketing success that came from recruiting talent.
They're useless except at times like this anyway.
Members who spent ordinary days as dead weight and only shone during the fair period—those were the sort you wouldn't take even if offered free. I would almost pay to get rid of them.
I let out a small sigh and glanced sideways, meeting the eyes of Villar, who had just put on an apron. A royal knight in an apron instead of armor—now that was a rare sight.
Villar, whose complexion had darkened as self-loathing seemed to wash over him, exchanged a look with me; as if by prior agreement, we both turned our heads away at the same time. In his eyes I must have looked like the Audit Department Chief trailing flour everywhere. An even rarer sight than a royal knight in an apron.
After sharing that melancholy middle-manager's sorrow with Villar, a distant clamor rose until the approaching crowd could be felt in the air itself.
It's started.
The Academy itself opened only for the duration of the fair, but the city that had grown up around it welcomed visitors even beforehand. People who had already secured lodgings poured in the moment the gates opened. The fair's prestige seemed higher than I had expected.
"Everything ready?"
"Done ages ago. We should be more worried about how many people will show up."
"It's a bit out of the way, so it'll take time for customers to reach us."
The members clustered together, discussing the booth's opening. The Academy was vast, the clubs numerous, and the Baking Club booth rather secluded, so they seemed to think they still had breathing room before guests arrived. That would only be true if people wandered around first before coming here.
I stared silently ahead and saw the crowd already forming a hazy mass. Yes. I had expected as much.
The booth opened far sooner than the members had anticipated—at a speed only possible if outside guests had deliberately made a beeline from the main gate straight to the Baking Club booth.
The unexpected pace left the members a little flustered, but they quickly regained their composure and began receiving customers. Not that there was much to "receive." Show a few tasting samples, hand over whatever they wanted to buy. Status alone would keep problem customers away; it was practically a royal bestowal.
And no matter what any customer purchased, their final destination was always the same.
"Well now, meeting you here. Have you been well?"
"Of course. Circumstances kept me from paying my respects earlier—how delightful to see you again."
I returned the smiling noble's greeting with a smile of my own. I was the destination. I was serving as both the totem drawing these guests and the end point of their pilgrimage.
"We last met at the New Year's Audience last year, so it's already been a full year?"
"You remembered! Haha, I'm honored."
Quickly dredging up who they were and when we had met was no small labor. Still, it was a price worth paying for smooth relationships.
See? Just tossing out the light implication that I remembered them made them light up. Social life began with remembering faces and names.
How many of them are there, anyway?
While shaking hands I casually surveyed the surroundings and spotted several nobles already using the booth. More were still arriving behind them. Whoever had dropped the coordinates had done an excellent job of it.
The reason for this situation was simple. In imperial high society I was treated like a quasi-legendary Pokémon. Think Entei or Raikou—the rare, ridiculously hard-to-spot ones. I almost never appeared at social gatherings unless it was something on the level of the New Year's Audience.
Even the few I did attend were only to trail the family head and exchange faces with the empire's counts, so that said everything. For reference, the actual legendary Pokémon was the Intelligence Director who never managed to leave work. That man was Ho-Oh. There was a reason I looked at the Intelligence Director and found a strange sort of comfort.
"It's been a while. Have you been well?"
"Haha, of course."
While I was thinking of the Intelligence Director still trapped in the Bell Tower, the person in front of me changed. This one was a somewhat bigger fish.
"I hear your son is preparing for the civil service. Good news should reach you soon."
Applying a little grease with power was another necessary virtue for social life.
The first rush ended.
"Everyone, good work. It's quieted down a bit—take a rest."
I spoke to the members as they sank into seats one by one. The ones who had suffered most were really my head and my hands, but they had worked hard all the same. Whether they realized it or not, they were looking at me with rather peculiar eyes.
I knew I had spent the whole time campaigning beside them while they tried to run a normal stall. Still, don't look at me like that. I hadn't summoned those people. They had come of their own free will.
"You've worked hard too, Brother!"
Luise, who had been pouring water for the three-nation reinforcements who had arrived as emergency support and for the club members, held a cup out to me as well.
"You drink first. You haven't had any yet."
I gently pushed the cup she offered back toward her. Why did she always look after everyone else before herself? Keeping Luise hydrated was more important than looking after a bunch of healthy young men.
When she still tried to push it back without drinking, I wordlessly put my hands behind me; only then did she hesitate and finally take a sip herself. Good. That was better.
"There's a young lady over there properly enjoying the fair."
"I'm jealous. If I get the time, maybe I'll wander around like that too."
Ryutis's and Erich's voices reached me just then. I turned toward them and found Ryutis smirking as he stared straight ahead. What now?
Following his gaze made my brow furrow on its own. A woman with striking white hair and red eyes was strolling toward us, both arms loaded with food. She had a chicken skewer clamped in her mouth and was walking with a jaunty step.
There was nothing particularly wrong with the sight itself. The fair was a kind of festival; of course there would be guests who came purely for the culinary tour. That was only natural. The problem was the identity of the person doing it—that was deeply irritating.
That damn First Division Chief.
What the hell are you doing here?