Come, Spring

“Will he really come? That—outcast, Hyuetos.”

“Oh? You didn’t know? He’s become a huge problem in the capital. They say he’s an uncontrollable roughneck.”

“Country folk don’t even know city manners.”

“For all the fuss about how he’d show his face, all he does is spread scandal… He should’ve stayed holed up in the sky for life.”

“Are those rumors true? That he keeps an island floating in the sky. It’s far too unreal.”

“My husband’s cousin visited the territory beside Hyuetos and claims he saw something floating in the sky.”

“Wasn’t it just a big bird?”

“Oh my—haha. Perhaps.”

As night’s curtain fell—the splendid Royal Palace ballroom was already swelling with murmurs.

Enchanted by the realm’s foremost magi, the venue boasted beauty and grace. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, imbued with magical light; each teardrop glass shone on its own, illuminating the hall. White drapery suspended from above caught the glow softly, scattering gold light across the room.

Marble polished to a mirror sheen was covered with sumptuous carpets imported from home and abroad.

Walls and pillars bore decorations so intricate one could hardly believe the eye, and the windows opening to the terrace were a single, astonishing pane each. The curtains over them were finest velvet; even without magic, their luster gleamed.

Children under eighteen—of any gender—were barred from Esria’s social salons. The adults drank and let their gossip bloom.

Most women wore vivid-colored dresses. Thanks to the riot of hues, the hall as a whole looked as brilliant as a flower field.

From olden times, Esrian attire for all genders tended to fall straight and loose, fastened with a sash. Dresses were no exception, marrying tradition with beauty.

To color the guests’ laughter, musicians upon the stage struck up their music.

Into the crossing smiles and lively chatter walked a man and a girl.

The pair who stepped in from the entrance seized the room’s attention at once.

“My… how beautiful.”

“Who are they?”

“Do you recognize them?”

“No, first time I’ve seen them.”

Esria’s nobles, already gathered, leaned to their neighbors and whispered. Everyone asked if someone knew the newcomers, but no one claimed acquaintance.

They were two of noticeably different ages—too far apart to be siblings, too close to be parent and child. The man, relaxed and unhurried, held the girl in one arm.

He wore the Esria Kingdom’s formal dress—an especially classical design.

Men’s court attire in Esria was prescribed in black.

Even among such, the man’s cloak was a true jet-black, painstakingly dyed with masterful craft. Upon that lavish black, the kingdom’s classical motifs were embroidered boldly in gold thread.

His golden sash, too, bore in matching thread the motif of sunlight—the emblem of Esria, “the land where the sun rises.”

The fine, delicate embroidery, as if expressing the radiance of the sun’s homeland, struck the perfect balance, conveying deep respect and admiration for the royal house.

Over a smooth silk over-robe, he wore a large crescent-shaped pendant.

His hair, glossy as ebony, was gathered into one tie and bound with a red ribbon matching his eyes.

The girl in his arms wore a light-colored dress: over a traditional loose white over-robe, a peppermint-hued gown that matched her eyes.

Decorative hanging sleeves formed a striking contrast against the white over-robe.

Silk ribbons tied above the gathers at her arms were the same red as the man’s hair tie.

At the waistline just beneath her chest, she wore a golden sash like the man’s.

Her white hair was braided with the intricacy of a magic circle wrought by a master mage; even without a single ornament, it was splendid enough.

Keeping the traditional silhouette, modest in exposure and girlish in line, the design avoided excessive sweetness. Above all, the dress she wore suited her perfectly.

Yet the dress’s most remarkable feature was neither color nor silhouette.

From the girl’s back, the gown spread from the shoulders like a cape. And as the man walked and the gown swayed—stars shone within it.

Tiny lights flickered, twinkling like stars and falling like meteors. Needless to say, no true stars were trapped in the cloth.

It was the mana woven into the threads that made it appear so.

Beyond the concept, the workmanship itself was superb. One could never achieve it without planning fabric weaving, design, and the embedded magic circles all at once. Each time the cloth moved and a stream of stars flowed, people of all ages in the hall were enchanted.

Bathed in the onlookers’ envy, the two at the center—Kardia and Noi—were cheerfully eyeing the buffet set out in the hall.

“Kardia! Amazing! There’s a roast of a bird that big!”

“Once the greetings are done, you can eat as much as you like. You don’t want to face everyone with grease all around your mouth, do you?”

“Got it. If it’s only until then, I probably, surely, perhaps, if I try very hard, can endure.”

When Noi put a hand to her belly and said so, Kardia narrowed his eyes and gently stroked her head. As always today, her hair had been neatly dressed by his hands.

As they beamed at each other, the music stopped. Then the orchestra on the dais began a stately, weighty piece.

From a door on the second floor, three people entered with unhurried steps. On a semi-circular balcony built to overlook the first floor, they halted: a woman of similar years and a man who looked to be a son flanked an older man at center.

(…So that’s the current king of the Esria Kingdom.)

Which would mean that, if succession had gone smoothly, he was Fengalow’s grandson or great-grandson. By age, likely a grandson. Noi smiled softly.

“My beloved subjects—well met!”

The man’s voice—low yet carrying—rang through the vast ballroom. All lowered themselves and bowed their heads.

“Tonight we celebrate the long span of fifty years since my accession; I am truly glad to share this special time with you.”

So as not to burden Kardia, Noi slipped quietly from his arm.

Kardia caught her eye, curled one corner of his mouth, then raised a finger and twirled a thread of mana. He must have thought she was getting bored. At his gentle, child-pleasing trick, Noi tittered.

“For half a century, Esria has at times faced trials and yet built prosperity and peace. This is solely thanks to the devoted service of you who gather here.”

Grand speeches by grand people were long—that had not changed in a hundred years.

“—We are one nation called Esria. I thank you for this marvelous night together. Now, let us feast and drink to our country’s happiness and health, and enjoy ourselves to the fullest!”

While Noi poked at the little rabbit Kardia spun from mana and prayed tonight’s menu might include a whole roast rabbit, the king’s address finally ended.

People raised their palms and interlaced the fingers of both hands. Noi promptly made the same salute.

“All right! Time to—!”

“Lastly!!”

“—eat…”

Noi, radiant smile ready as she headed for the food, was stopped by the king’s powerful voice. For all appearances, she was an adult. Regrettably, she had been taught not to go inspect crispy chicken skin while an important person was speaking.

“On this day of great joy, I declare with pride the restoration of our friendship!”

The king’s voice rang clear, and Noi found herself listening.

“Though eighty winters passed in quiet, our hearts remained joined. His return to us bears great meaning. Let us reclaim our former friendship and be one again. We shall forgive the wrongs of the past and have the courage to forge a new bond—Hyuetos Magic Count, the mage at the edge of the heavens!”

It was the first time in her life Noi thought an important person’s speech was splendid. She clapped—pat, pat, pat—with her small hands. Smiling at her applause, Kardia started toward the king—but halted at the voice that followed.

“This Hyuetos offers thanks for Your Majesty’s magnanimity! O great king!”

The hearty, sea-raider-like voice that answered was not Kardia’s.