The Fair Was Just for Show - 1
This year, too, a considerable crowd of visitors thronged the Baking Club booth. So many, in fact, that Mar—sitting quietly in the back—actually offered to help out.
I refused her flatly, of course, and told her to stay put and rest. Putting my pregnant wife to work on the front lines? Even if Enen struck me down from the heavens for it, I would have no defense. I could never allow it myself. Just bringing her into a crowded place was already enough to set my nerves on edge; labor was out of the question.
Besides, a large number of guests did not automatically mean we were busy. It sounded like sophistry, but in this booth the logic held. Here, the sellers held all the power, not the buyers.
"I heard Her Ladyship is with child. My congratulations, Count of Tailglehen."
"Haha. No matter how many times I hear it, congratulations never get old. Thank you."
The vast majority of people who stopped by the booth had come to see me, Trixie, or else Ryutis, Later, or Tanian. They were visitors who wanted to make a good impression on us, so no one was going to complain if service was a little slow.
Even Luise, the club president, was aiming for a relaxed, unhurried operation this year. Layer on top of that two full years of hard-won know-how, and no matter how many guests poured in, the members never so much as flinched.
Even with one of them gone AWOL.
That runaway ninja bastard.
I shook hands with the next guest while thinking darkly of Ryutis, who had brazenly abandoned his post.
He had been working perfectly well right up until we finished arranging the display cases. Then he got some message in the corner and vanished like the wind, saying only that he had someone urgent to meet and would be right back after a quick greeting.
His sheer audacity nearly left me speechless, but I didn't launch a manhunt. We weren't desperate for every last pair of hands, and for all his eccentricities Ryutis wasn't completely devoid of manners—if he had bolted now, the person he was meeting had to be important enough to justify it.
And that person was almost certainly the Count of Nercaf.
So that's why he calls him "Uncle."
It was a little surprising. The Count of Nercaf might be the King of Armein's right-hand man, but a royal going out of his way to greet a vassal first simply didn't happen without extraordinary favor and trust behind it. I never expected Ryutis to show that level of consideration by going to meet him personally.
Still, if Ryutis was voluntarily sticking close to the Count of Nercaf, so much the better for me. With a prince right beside him, even the Count of Nercaf would have limited room to maneuver. That meant far fewer chances of him seeking me out.
Ideally, they would stay glued together all day.
They say you only get disappointed when you allow yourself to hope in the first place.
I had been a fool. I had forgotten that truth and pinned hopes on Ryutis. Even if he had mellowed since the '78 season, Ryutis was still Ryutis.
"Uncle. This is the faculty advisor who has been looking after the Baking Club. He is also the Minister of the Imperial Inspectorate."
"I see. Your reputation precedes you."
About two hours after his desertion, Ryutis returned to the booth with the Count of Nercaf in tow.
Damn it.
Apparently my wish had been too incomplete. I should not simply have wished for them to stay together all day; I should have specified that they stay together all day far away from me. I never imagined he would bring the man straight to me.
"I am Ferdinand Karichen of Nercaf. It is an honor to meet the Continent's Best Swordsman in person."
While I wept inwardly, the Count of Nercaf offered his hand first.
Now what?
I spun my thoughts rapidly as I looked at him. How should I receive this greeting?
By protocol, an imperial title-holder outranked a kingdom title-holder of the same rank by one step. As someone who fell under the "count" category, I could stand above the Count of Nercaf, who was merely a kingdom count.
That was only true for ceremonial rank, however. Speaking down to the Grand Marshal of the Armein Kingdom was something only a figure like the Duke of Victory could get away with. Moreover, the Count of Nercaf had not approached with hostility; he was offering a courteous greeting. I could not simply barge ahead.
"Karl Crassius of Tailglehen."
So I settled on mutual respect. Frankly, speaking casually to a man twice my age felt wrong anyway.
"But 'Continent's Best Swordsman'? The name is so extravagant it almost embarrasses me."
I gently shook my head at the title he had just used.
Continent's Best Swordsman? What even was that? When had that name been stuck on me without my noticing?
"Reputation is always like that. No matter what a man thinks of himself, if the world calls him something, that is what he becomes."
The Count of Nercaf answered evenly.
Somehow his words carried real weight. Perhaps because they came from a man already called the Best Swordsman of Armein. For all I knew, he himself found the title of Armein's finest embarrassing yet endured it all the same.
"Exactly right! People always say the 'you' others see is more accurate than the 'you' you see yourself. So we should just accept it with humility!"
Ryutis's follow-up banter drew a short laugh from me.
Honestly, after facing Kagan's sheer presence with my whole body, the idea of someone like me being called the continent's best felt like pure shamelessness. But Kagan was dead and I was alive. If he had a problem with that, he should have survived. The living one is the strong one—that is the law.
"Ah, but there are other guests. I have been taking up your time. Forgive me."
"Not at all."
The Count of Nercaf, who had been smiling faintly at Ryutis, swept his gaze over the bustling visitors and took a step back, as if he considered it rude to monopolize me while others were waiting.
We had exchanged only a few words, yet that brief conversation was enough for me to get a rough sense of the Count of Nercaf's character.
He isn't a giant-sized Ryutis.
I felt genuine relief. As the man who held the title of Best Swordsman even in Armein—the so-called Kingdom of Knights—and as the person Ryutis called "Uncle," I had expected some eccentric personality. I had even wondered whether Ryutis had grown up under his uncle's influence.
But instead of a giant Ryutis, he was an upgraded Villar: a normal human being fully equipped with ability, character, and common sense.
So how did a man like that end up raising a nephew like that?
Of course, "nephew" was only a term of address. As a vassal, the Count of Nercaf could not scold a prince. If anyone was at fault, it was the King of Armein.
A truly regrettable state of affairs.
Thanks to His Highness Ryutis and the Minister's kindness, I was able to step inside the booth.
I still wondered whether an outside guest like me should really be allowed so deep into their space, but the Minister's wife was already there, so I let it pass. Raising a fuss about guests now would only put the Minister's wife in an awkward position as well.
Hah.
Watching His Highness Ryutis sit in a chair and greet customers stirred complicated feelings. Who would ever have imagined His Highness doing this sort of menial work?
Even seeing it with my own two eyes, I could scarcely believe it. The prince who had lived only for the sword, and pastry-making—a craft with no connection to the martial arts. No matter how generously one looked at it, the two simply did not go together. Yet the Imperial Academy had made it happen.
Equal instruction and equal standing, was it?
The Academy's old motto floated into my mind. Until now I had dismissed it as empty rhetoric, but a scene like this forced me to reconsider.
Here was a prince of Armein baking side by side with an imperial royal, a prince of Uben, and the next Saint of the Holy Kingdom. Was that not true equal teaching and equal treatment?
Is it the Academy's doing, or the Minister's ability?
My gaze drifted to the Minister, who was still conversing with guests.
The Academy had endured for centuries, yet it had shown a new face during the period when the Minister served as club advisor. So whose achievement was that—the Academy's, or the Minister's?
Interesting.
My hand twitched of its own accord. If he had proven himself capable in fields other than the sword, then his skill with a blade would be all the more outstanding. Part of me wanted to request a spar right then and there.
I crushed the urge with everything I had.
If a spar actually took place, that would create its own problems.
The excessive honor of "Best Swordsman of Armein" rested on my shoulders. If I lost, it would look as though Armein's blade had been broken by the Empire.
From the moment the word "best" was attached to my name, my victories and defeats no longer belonged to me alone. Recalling that whenever my blood began to boil calmed me, if only a little.
...
If only I were a few years younger.
I truly regretted it. How many chances does a man get in a lifetime to spar with a swordsman who can split the sky?
Right now I almost resented coming to the Empire on His Majesty's orders. If I had never seen him, I would not feel this frustration.
I had managed to park the Count of Nercaf inside the booth for a while, but leaving an outsider sitting among us felt awkward for both parties.
So the moment the crowd thinned, I moved us elsewhere with the Count in tow. Anywhere would be better than the booth.
"It is rather out of the way, yet the facilities are excellent."
"I recall they put real care into building it because it was a new club. That way other students would not hesitate to found clubs of their own."
"I see. The Academy's consideration is truly warm."
I had not expected the place we ended up to be the clubroom itself.
In any case, I left the Count of Nercaf looking around the room with a calm expression and reached for the tea set on the shelf. He had come under the pretext of wanting to see where Ryutis usually spent his time, which made him something like a parent visiting a class. Any teacher who failed to offer a parent a cup of tea would be far too stingy.
"It will take a little while for the leaves to steep."
"I am about to drink tea poured by the Continent's Best Swordsman. What is a little time compared to that?"
The remark drew a quiet laugh from me. He was so reserved that my earlier fear of facing a giant-sized Ryutis felt almost silly.
I was worried he might ask for a spar.
If it had been some hopeless underling begging for a lesson, I could have gone easy under the name of instruction. A spar with Armein's strongest, however, would force me to give it everything I had. Win or lose, the fallout would never be light.
Yes—thinking about it, the Count was one of a nation's key leaders. A man like that would never treat his words or actions lightly. I had worried far too much.
"And it means more time to converse with the Count of Tailglehen. That is something I welcome wholeheartedly."
"Haha, is that so? You must have many questions for me."
When I answered with a light joke, the Count smiled faintly. Conversation with a harmless man was something I could do all day—
"What I am about to say is the word of His Majesty the King of Armein, and it is, strictly speaking, an unofficial message."
"...Pardon?"
A strange phrase suddenly lodged in my ear. The word of the King of Armein? An unofficial message?
Oh, for the love of—
My instincts nearly made me clap my hands over my ears. I was terrified of whatever the Count was about to say next. Who drops a bomb like that with such a peaceful face?
"Before long, the Leonine bloodline will come to an end."
"……."
But his mouth opened before I could cover my ears.
Shit.
Information so bad that I would rather have sparred after all had just come flying out.