Randolph Serdia (1)
A few days before Yulia and Hervena were to duel.
Blow had been accompanying Rachel, idly trading this and that with her, when something occurred to him and he spoke.
"My lady."
"Huh? What?"
"Whenever you come to Caipol, you seem to call on His Highness. Have the two of you been acquainted for some time?"
"Acquainted? Of course we have. I've been seeing him since I was little. House Campbell is one of Serdia's old vassal houses."
Uncharacteristically, as if she had slipped into memory, Rachel stroked her chin, then added with a smile,
"I took up the sword because of His Highness, for one thing."
"You did?"
"Mm. He bestowed a sword on me. I was six then, wasn't I?"
"He gave a sword to a six-year-old girl?"
"Yeah. Even back then I was tearing around all over the place, and apparently he found it rather impressive."
"Is that so? It's a little surprising."
"When I see him now and then, I'm not... comfortable. I end up talking about the old days a lot. Anyway, I'm heading over to the Edfolks' in Caipol."
"Yes. Go on ahead."
Thirty minutes before Randolph was due to arrive.
The conversation with Rachel rose in Blow's mind. He shook it loose and turned his attention to receiving the prince. He had come down into the basement of Hills with Yulia, partly to check the inventory and partly to talk about Randolph, and the cellar—its cold storage now finished—was cold enough that their breath showed.
Yulia, watching him, summoned a single indigo magic circle.
"Media's Hearth."
⟨ Media's Hearth ⟩
A spirit of flame took shape between them, breathing out a mild, steady warmth. In the air gone suddenly kinder, Blow offered her his thanks.
"Thank you, my lady."
"Not at all. I was cold too."
She looked at him a moment, then murmured, so softly he could barely catch it,
"...It would be nice if you patted my head at a time like this."
"Pardon?"
"There's no one here, and I've gone and used magic for you again..."
She held his gaze and tipped her chin down, offering the crown of her head. Blow, as if he had no other choice, stroked her hair. Yulia shivered as though a current had run through her, then turned on him a brilliant smile.
"Everyone else is so unfair."
"What? What do you..."
"This feels wonderful, and I'm the only one who hasn't gotten to feel it every time. Isn't that right?"
"..."
"From now on I'll have to work even harder, so you'll pat my head more often."
...She hasn't even had a drink. Why is she like this?
Embarrassed, Blow only looked at her in silence. Yulia cleared her throat, let out a long breath, and began again in a serious voice.
"Prince Randolph, as you know, is not a man who has shown his hand in any obvious way."
"Yes, I know. That's why I had the feeling he might be difficult."
"The truth is, he feels too quiet, doesn't he? Serdia blood or not."
"He hardly even attends the student council meetings, does he?"
"No. Aside from class, he usually shuts himself away in his own residence. When he comes to the council hall, he signs what needs signing and leaves."
Say what one liked, the man who showed on the surface was nothing but an idle wastrel. What unsettled both Yulia and Blow was something else. To look at him was to feel an unease like the one that comes off a sea, or a lake, with not a single ripple on it.
"Even so, Antonio and Hera—the confidants who attend His Highness—tend to move quite actively."
"Actively, you say?"
"As far as I know, the two of them go about gathering information. That's why His Highness has a colder side to him."
"Gathering information?"
"Yes. Like the imperial palace."
Blow had no good memories of the imperial palace, and his face hardened.
"Could it be that the imperial family entrusted the Second Prince with overseeing Caipol?"
"Thinking so is the rational thing, yes. Even then, he is far too still..."
"My lady, have you by any chance heard why His Highness wishes to see me?"
"When I called on him yesterday, it seemed to be nothing more than curiosity. What is certain, before any of that, is that the path you have been walking was bound to catch someone's eye."
"I'd thought the same."
"My father said he would take charge of introducing you this winter, but even if he hadn't, you would have had to go to the imperial capital this winter."
"Would I?"
"Yes. Responses will start coming in from all over before long."
"Ah. Yesterday I also heard from the children in the alley that someone had been asking about me..."
"Children's eyes are perhaps the simplest, and the clearest. Did you share potatoes with them because you were looking kindly on that, young master...?"
"No, that's..."
"And deciding not to collect taxes from the merchants—that was part of the same effort, wasn't it? As expected..."
Her eyes were shining. She had settled on the idea completely. Blow waved it off, but she had already made up her mind, murmuring that it was remarkable and clapping without a sound.
"As expected! That's you, young master."
"Since you've trusted me this far, my lady, I'll try to make an opportunity of tonight's dinner."
"Of course! There is nothing at all to lose by showing well before His Highness!"
Yulia clenched her fist. Even so, Blow was glad she would be beside him when he met the prince. He nodded, and the two of them climbed to the first floor.
"My, you've furnished the place handsomely, Blow Deblique."
Settled in his seat, Randolph looked slowly around Hills and smiled at Blow as if the room pleased him. It was only natural that he should. Blow had stayed up through the night with Jane and Hans, cleaning every corner of the restaurant, laying the tablecloths, and setting a vase of fresh flowers on each table.
At dawn Hans had caught him wiping even beneath the tables, and the question came out of a face gone perfectly round-eyed.
"Young master, it really seems like you've done a great deal of this before!"
"Not especially. I'm the one in charge, so there are things I look after. That's all."
The truth was, he'd done it to death. A division headquarters company will do that to you.
The memory alone made the world in front of him swim, but he was glad of the experience now. Nothing about the room seemed to catch in Randolph's eye.
"Thank you for the praise."
"The praise for your restaurant has been considerable. I could hardly stay away."
"So many people have taken to it that I'm surprised myself."
Each time Blow spoke, Randolph's face changed—brow drawing in, lips twitching, expression shifting through one color after another. The Randolph of ordinary days was cold enough that his expression hardly moved at all, and Yulia could only swallow drily and wait for whatever he would say next.
"You've changed a great deal."
"Ah. Yes. I have."
"Even so, decorum was a long way from you. Humility, further still."
"That's certainly true."
"So it is true, then, that you changed after you collapsed? Let's see—was the name the Spirit of Space?"
...He's coming in that directly?
Blow was a little thrown, but he held on to his calm and answered.
"Yes. I was down for a long time, so I came to realize a few things."
"Haha. Realizations, is it. Shall we have a look, then, at the menu of the newly serious you?"
"I've prepared it right here."
"It would have been easier on you to have the food ready in advance, but I hear the dishes at Hills are unusual. I wanted to choose from the menu myself."
Randolph studied the menu with his attendant. For reasons he couldn't quite name, Blow had gone tense. He took a careful sip of water and waited for the prince to speak.
After a close look at the menu, Randolph broke into a hearty laugh and turned to him.
"There's a rather adorable quality to these names, seeing as you've put the people around you into them."
"Yes. They helped me in a great many ways, so I made them like that in commemoration."
"Then would you make a dish named after me as well?"
"Of course! If you would grant me that honor, the moment a new dish is born I'll set Your Highness's name upon it!"
"I'm joking. Then I'll try this garlic meat shrimp, the Olred sausage stir-fry, and this Lia corn cheese."
"I'll have them prepared at once!"
Before long a brisk chopping rose from the kitchen, and a warm savor drifted through Hills. Randolph's gaze moved, as if of its own accord, to Yulia.
"Lady Yulia."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"This duel of yours was tremendously impressive."
"Thank you for the praise, Your Highness. It may be my last, so I prepared with everything I had."
"There's still the Serdia Academia next year. What of it? But that axe—was that your idea?"
"No. Lady Rachel advised me."
"Hmm... I see. Still, I did think you might be good at that sort of thing."
"Pardon? What do you mean...?"
"You like to run, don't you? Word of it reached even my ears."
"Ah. I believe stamina matters most, so I try to do it every day."
"Remarkable, busy as you are. When you become student council president, you'll be a fine example to the others."
He spoke as if her presidency were already decided. Yulia's eyes flew open, and she could only offer him a bow.
"Thank you for the praise, Your Highness."
"In any case, it was very impressive."
They were well into talk of the school when the dishes the prince had ordered finally came to the table. The taster he had brought sampled them first. While that went on, Randolph looked the food over with an interested eye, then shifted his gaze to Blow.
"What did you say this was called? This sausage dish."
"Olred sausage stir-fry."
"Olred...... Then this shrimp?"
"This is a dish called garlic meat shrimp."
"You've quite a knack for naming, haven't you?"
"Thank you for the praise!"
"Names that suit my taste perfectly."
Good at naming? Aside from his senior, that was the first he'd ever heard of it.
The unexpected praise flustered him so badly he stumbled over his words, and he couldn't help wondering what the seemingly easygoing prince was thinking. Is he showing that he wants to drop the formality between us? Or is he trying to loosen me up because he can see how tense I am? He had no way of knowing which was right, so he decided to take the praise as nothing more than praise, and to keep his thoughts as simple as he could.
"I'll keep working hard at the naming."
"Do that. Shall I try them now?"
He tasted the dishes one after another, and admiration slipped from him at once.
"Absolutely delicious!"
"Thank you!"
"For flavor and quality like this, I find myself thinking Hills is rather small."
"Do you?"
"Yes. Certainly. These are dishes I'd want everyone on the continent to taste. Hmm... I'd like to try one of those potatoes you boast of, if that's all right?"
"I'll have one prepared right away."
A roasted potato came to the table not long after. While Randolph waited on the taster, Blow spoke with care.
"It will be good if you dip it in the Olred sauce."
"Will it?"
"Yes. Tomato sauce pairs well with potato."
"You do your research, don't you, Blow Deblique."
With that he plunged the roasted potato deep into the Olred and brought it to his mouth, and his expression brightened all at once.
"Superb! Tomato suits potato better than I expected."
"I only learned it myself not long ago. Once I'd tried it, I did think anyone would like it."
"Hmm. Yes. The potato, and the other dishes too—quite excellent."
Randolph cleared the plates quickly. Relieved that nothing was wrong with the food, Blow let out a long breath and gave Yulia a nod so slight it might not have been a nod at all.
"Blow? I'd like a cup of tea as well."
"I've prepared black tea from the South, and coffee. Which would you like?"
"Coffee."
No sooner had he spoken than the plates began to vanish. When Marchen carried the last of them into the kitchen, Blow—already on his feet—came to the prince's side and asked, carefully,
"Was the meal to your liking?"
"Very much. They were dishes one doesn't get to eat easily, and that was pleasant."
"Thank you for the praise."
"But there's no fried food? I heard a rumor you made doughnuts at the festival."
"The oil is harder to manage than I expected. Fried dishes are still on hold."
"A thoroughly reasonable point. The more we talk, the more I find myself seeing you anew. Wouldn't you say, Hera?"
"Yes. That is so."
The woman who had been standing at his side without a shred of presence—his female confidant—answered in a clear voice. Quietly relieved that the mood was passing without incident, Blow picked up the thread again, a little more sure of himself.
"Which dish pleased you most?"
"The corn cheese, I'd say."
"Ah. I see."
"Yes. It was very good."
"It's my favorite dish, Your Highness."
"Is it. I could have sworn I saw your name on the menu."
He nodded toward Yulia, seemed to turn something over, and then a smile touched his mouth.
"Since we've come to the subject of that corn cheese."
"Yes, Your Highness," the two of them answered together.
"Do you know what color corn turns when you pop it?"
With the question, Randolph's eyes settled quietly on Blow.
Pop the corn...?
At that, Blow could not help but narrow his brow.