A Shining Diploma - 1
After Pedi arrived at our side with the first snow as if he had been waiting for his own name, and once we had even finished the baptism that made the Minister his godfather, December was more or less upon us. At last the grueling three-year march through the Academy was drawing to a close.
The moment December began, my heart pounded harder with every passing day. Just a little longer—really, only a little—and this ultra-long-term dispatch of three whole years would finally end. The three ticking time bombs would go home to their own countries, and I would be free to play at home with our Pedi, the boy I would not trade for the world.
Lately all I ever see of him is when he's asleep.
Grief and guilt nearly brought tears to my eyes. Other babies, they say, sleep through the day and then wake at night and in the small hours to torment their parents—but our good Pedi slept normally and woke normally.
The trouble was that a baby's sleep dwarfs an adult's, so his perfectly ordinary rest ran from early evening all the way through to late morning. On an unlucky day I left for work looking at a sleeping Pedi, and came home to look at a sleeping Pedi again. It was not every day, but it was still a sad one.
Fortunately the Emperor had given me a firm promise that I could rest a little after graduating from the Academy, so all that remained was to wait for that day.
— Pedi's babbling has gotten pretty clear lately. Not that you'd ever get to hear it.
Just a little longer… hang in there…
I steeled myself further, recalling the provocation the Minister had thrown at me a few days earlier.
Unlike me, whose post was the Academy, the Minister worked in the Imperial Capital—and he used every lunch hour to visit the estate and play with Pedi. Because he wore the title of godfather, the household never thought of stopping him; they welcomed him instead. And so, under the pretext of reporting on Pedi's latest developments, the Minister poured every kind of teasing and provocation into the communication orb at me.
That damn old man who was a godfather in name only. The way he behaved, you'd have thought he was my sworn enemy.
Is it really that fun for him?
My teeth ground together for a moment, but I soon let out a breath and calmed myself. Separate from the habitual needling he directed at me, the devotion the Minister poured onto Pedi was anything but light.
For a minister of a department, lunch is effectively an extension of work. Saying he "drops by at lunch" sounds nice, but if he spent that hour on other duties or meetings, how much earlier would he get to leave each evening? He had given that up to play with Pedi. As the boy's actual father, I could only be grateful.
Looked at that way he really was a fine godfather. I only wished he would ease up a little on contacting the actual father.
— What are you thinking about that makes you sigh all of a sudden?
"I was thinking it would be nice if Your Excellency choked while wolfing down a meal and suffered for about three days."
Please.
Calling me on the communication orb in the middle of a meal was just cruel. Why did I have to share a remote dinner table with this man?
If you're going to call anyway, do it while you're with Pedi.
I was desperate enough to nurse even that small hope. At least then I would get one more look at Pedi while he was awake.
Today, too, Pedi greeted his father with a sleeping face.
"…If I wake him, he'll be angry, right?"
"I'll be angry long before Pedi is."
"Sorry."
The moment I let that insane remark slip while looking down at Pedi breathing softly in his sleep, Mar jabbed me in the side and shook her head.
Of course I had not meant it, so I apologized at once. Or rather—I had meant it about halfway, but I had absolutely no intention of acting on it. There is no act more psychopathic than waking a child who is sleeping soundly.
I was simply melancholy over how pathetic my own situation was. What kind of father can't even properly talk with his first child?
Should I just do it?
I hastily shook my head at the desire that had already begun to stir.
If I touched Pedi for no reason and he woke, we would be in trouble. I could not bear to see this small, precious baby angel cry. If that happened I would be hit at once by world-ending guilt and by Mar's resentment.
"Still, you don't have to worry so much. He's been falling asleep later and later lately. Before long you'll get to see Pedi while he's awake."
"Really?"
"Really."
My expression must have looked too pitiful, because Mar quietly took my hand and offered that peculiar comfort.
But the effect was certain. The thought that our Pedi would soon greet his father coming home from work brought a smile to my face of its own accord. Dragging yourself home exhausted in body and mind—and a son waiting to welcome that father. Is that not a dream every parent has held at least once?
Just a little longer.
And so another reason to keep living a long life in this world was added to the list.
Unlike a certain Minister, Mar did show me Pedi awake through the communication orb—but seeing and touching him in person was still a different law of nature from watching him remotely.
"Ooh…"
While I was grinning at Mar's words, Pedi's babble made me flinch—but I settled again at once.
That kind of babble was not a warning that he was about to wake. How many times had he made that sound and then slept on as if nothing had happened? Pedi was a miracle baby who could sleep in perfect peace no matter what anyone said nearby, so long as no one touched him directly.
I don't think he's going to grow up ordinary either.
The thought struck me out of nowhere. Right now he was a baby who could neither speak properly nor move his body—but the day he started toddling around on two feet, I was fairly sure he would turn the estate and the family upside down.
Judging by the spectacular kicking he had shown in Mar's arms, his fickle appetite, and the go-my-own-way temperament on display even now, he absolutely would.
Kids all grow up noisy, don't they?
Of course, even if he grew up that way it would be no problem. Children causing all sorts of trouble and playing pranks as they grow is only natural.
And if he defied expectations and grew up quiet, that would be fine too. That would have its own kind of charm.
As long as Pedi grew up kind and healthy, that was enough. This dad has already earned all the money you'll ever need to live on.
You go live doing exactly what you want.
This dad never could…
The closer graduation drew, the more aggressive Later became.
Thanks to that dazzling offensive, I threw myself into the matches with even greater sincerity. He was the kind of opponent who, after we had both lost side by side to the Advisor in the inter-class tournament, still split second and third place with me—if I lost to him even once at chess? I did not even want to imagine the result.
I absolutely cannot lose.
That was why I could not tolerate Later winning even a single game. I never had before, and now I would rather die than hand him a victory.
This contest was no longer a simple matter of win rates or records. It was a grave question of whether my mind and pride would collapse or hold.
"What? You're still at it?"
Sadly, Erich—a mere noble—could not comprehend a contest so lofty and serious between royalty.
"If we had never started, that would be one thing. Once you've drawn the blade, you see it through."
"Agreed."
For once Later and I were of one mind, and I nodded in agreement.
Yes—if a knight never draws his sword, he can laugh the matter off. But once the sword is drawn, it ends only when he dies or the other man does.
That was exactly where Later and I stood. Whether the end of this contest was my unbroken record or Later's miraculous first win was nothing more than the final conclusion. What mattered was that we were fighting a live-blade duel from which neither of us would step back.
"Ryutis is going to win anyway, so what's the point."
I huffed a short laugh at that. The gap between Later and me was so obvious that even a third party would say it.
My victory had already become a kind of truth. Even if Later somehow beat me, the club members would decide not that he was better, but that I had made a mistake. For Later to completely surpass me was impossible.
But Later did not care about such trifles.
Looks like he figures winning is enough, whatever the reason.
I had been feeling it lately—Later's goal was not to display his own superiority. He seemed ready to stake his life on securing any pretext that would let him mock me.
The inter-class tournament ruined him.
It was truly a pity. Up until the inter-class tournament he had been a slightly unusual but decent friend; after it, something in him had twisted. It was as if he had begun to care more about subjective feeling than objective victory.
This was all the Advisor's karma, no doubt. The Advisor had sown a tremendous poison in the royal house of Uben.
…Come to think of it, where is the Advisor?
I had been so focused on chess that I only noticed now. The other club members were here, Luise was here, Irina was here, the Demon Duke was here—everyone was in the clubroom except the Advisor.
Had something happened? No—everyone's expressions were too calm for that. If something had befallen the Advisor, at least one of Luise, Irina, or the Demon Duke would have shown some agitation.
It's probably nothing.
I scanned the room quickly and turned my eyes back to the board. Honestly, the Advisor was not the sort of person other people needed to worry about.
"Checkmate."
"Tsk. We'll rest about ten minutes and go again."
He was the sort who stood firm through anything… At the latest, he would be back before the next checkmate.
At the principal's message that he had something important to say, I headed for the principal's office. The sudden contact had startled me a little, but thankfully his voice and expression suggested it was nothing urgent.
"We have decided to award honorary teaching certificates to Sir Villar and the other key figures among the three kingdoms' forces. For three years they have spared no cooperation toward the Academy's smooth events and education—this much is only natural."
And as expected, it was a minor matter, nothing pressing.
Granting Academy honorary teaching certificates to foreigners was no light affair, but awarding them to Sir Villar and a few others had already been more or less settled. What the principal was saying now was simply that a half-confirmed matter had become final—
"However, I am told that in the discussion of the honorary teaching certificates, the Minister's name was also mentioned."
"Pardon?"
The unexpected reference drew a reflexive question. We were talking about the three kingdoms' people—why me?
"Although the Minister came to the Academy for inspector's duties, you shouldered far more work and responsibility than previous inspectors. They said it could not simply be passed over."
"…Pardon?"
At the principal's words my heart began to pound.
Was I going to receive something too? Was my three years at the Academy not going to end empty-handed?
An honorary teaching certificate?
Or an honorary diploma?
Either way, my chest tightened. I had once thought I would not mind going without—but if there really was nothing, I suspected I would feel strangely hurt.