The Perfect Knight and the Illusionist (BL)

MARIUS

A village boy with talent, deserving equal chance. That reminded me of a certain someone who had unique talent according to a very wise man—the one whose talent I couldn’t quite see yet, except that he was exceptionally gifted in unsettling me in ways I didn’t expect or know how to handle.

After the debate club was over, the Second Consort and the rest of us proceeded to the hall where we had held the opening ceremony to attend the choir’s performance, a particular highlight for me—and for her friends—being Janice’s solo part. It was impressive enough, although I had no doubt about her ability, that she had passed the audition. But getting a solo part as a first-year student was apparently extremely rare. Proof of talent, or a well-deserved reward for hard work.

Probably both.

The hall was already nearly full by the time we arrived, with the front rows reserved for the Second Consort, her entourage, and senior Academy staff, while the student council was seated immediately behind them. It was a convenient arrangement for our duties, although somewhat less convenient for what had increasingly become my other objective for the day.

I looked around the hall.

Skylark.

It was becoming too easy to find him in a crowd, although I reasoned that his pale blond hair made him considerably more conspicuous than the average student. He was several rows behind us, sitting beside Isabelle and Beatrice, and appeared to be talking excitedly about something with the two girls.

For a moment, I considered going over to him before the performance began.

The choir entered the stage to enthusiastic applause, Janice among them, dressed in the same formal dress as the other members. I noticed her briefly searching the audience before assuming the composed posture expected of a performer, although whether she had been looking for any of us in particular, I couldn’t tell.

The first song was a traditional Avelainian composition, beautifully performed and immediately recognized by the Second Consort, whose expression brightened considerably as the familiar melody filled the hall. She applauded enthusiastically when it ended, which seemed to relieve several members of staff who had been watching her reaction almost as closely as they had been watching the choir.

The second piece was also Avelainian.

The third, although technically an Aurelian composition, celebrated the historic friendship between the Aurelian Empire and the Avelaine Kingdom.

By the time the fourth began, another traditional piece originating specifically from Southern Avelaine, I found myself paying less attention to the music and more to a pattern which, despite having known the program beforehand, I had somehow failed to consider until that moment.

I remembered Janice standing before me when I delivered the approved list.

’We already had our songs.’

The Second Consort leaned slightly toward the Dean.

"Was the entire program selected for me?"

The question was quiet enough not to disturb the performance, but I was close enough to hear it.

The Dean smiled. "We wanted to honor Your Imperial Highness during your visit."

"How thoughtful."

There was nothing objectionable in her answer, yet the enthusiasm with which she had received the first song was noticeably absent now.

As the next song began, my attention wandered toward Skylark.

He appeared to have noticed none of these complications, being entirely absorbed in the music with an intensity that seemed disproportionate to the simple act of listening.

His head moved subtly with the melody, one foot keeping time beneath his chair, while his eyes remained fixed on the performers as though nothing beyond the stage presently deserved his attention.

It was only when Skylark suddenly looked toward the front and our eyes met that I realized I was smiling.

He smiled back, though.

The song ended to another round of applause, after which the Second Consort leaned toward one of her attendants and whispered something. During the debate, such exchanges had repeatedly resulted in the attendant taking notes, but this time she merely listened and nodded.

The Second Consort then turned toward the Dean.

"I have a question."

"Of course, Your Imperial Highness."

"What songs would they have performed if I weren’t here?"

The Dean hesitated just long enough for me to notice.

"I beg your pardon, Your Imperial Highness?"

"Their original program. I assume the choir had prepared one before my visit was announced."

"I believe they had selected several pieces, yes."

"Were they unsuitable?"

"Not at all, Your Imperial Highness. We merely thought it appropriate to alter the program in your honor."

"I see."

The Second Consort returned her gaze to the stage.

Then the lights dimmed until only a single area at the center of the stage remained illuminated.

Janice stepped forward, and the hall became silent.

This was her solo.

Unlike the earlier pieces, there was no elaborate instrumental introduction. Janice simply took a breath and began to sing, her voice considerably softer than I expected but clear enough to fill the hall without appearing forced.

I didn’t recognize the song.

The Second Consort clearly did.

The melody was melancholic, telling the story of someone who had traveled far from home in search of a better life and found everything she had once imagined wanting, only to discover herself dreaming each night of the insignificant place she had left behind.

There were verses about familiar hills and roads, a mother’s cooking, a father’s voice, and childhood friends whose faces became less distinct with every passing year.

The Second Consort lowered her gaze.

For perhaps the first time since her arrival, the confidence and amusement that seemed permanently attached to her expression disappeared entirely.

I remembered that she was Southern Avelainian.

Then another thought occurred to me.

I turned around.

Skylark was no longer moving with the music.

Erdville.

Of course.

His parents. His friends. The potatoes he spoke about with a degree of enthusiasm no vegetable reasonably deserved.

Davi. Abe. Blabber Becky. Big Sis Sally. Boring Brad.

Names I had initially considered meaningless details in Skylark’s endless stories had, without my noticing, become familiar enough that I could recall them immediately.

He had left all of them behind to come here.

A village boy with talent, deserving equal chance.

The debate suddenly felt less theoretical than it had an hour earlier.

Janice’s voice rose into the final section of the song, and I saw Skylark blink several times before lowering his eyes.

My fingers tightened against the armrest.

I wanted to go to him.

I wanted to sit beside Skylark.

I wanted to know whether he was all right.

Perhaps I merely wanted him not to look sad.

I wasn’t entirely certain.

Janice reached the final verse, allowing the melody to diminish until the last few words seemed almost too fragile to carry through the hall.

Then there was silence.

Nobody applauded immediately, not because the performance had failed, but because applause seemed almost inappropriate while the final note still appeared to linger in the room.

I looked back toward Skylark.

A small smile returned to his face.

Once again, he was only several rows away.

Once again, I couldn’t go to him.

Later.

I had been telling myself that all day.