The Teacup and the Minnow
"House Kenyon has produced civil officials for generations. They were neither particularly close to the former Empress nor particularly at odds with her, and even now a great many officials from that house remain in the Imperial Palace. Their ability, at least, could not be cast aside. They have a keen sense for holding the middle path—never wholly obedient, and yet never clinging to anyone's side."
Laniakea listened to Hyperion and kept her hand moving.
She had hoped for help of a modest sort: appoint this one, appoint that one. Instead he sat down with the documents themselves and began explaining them one by one.
"House Roseman has produced chief chamberlains for generations. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say the imperial manuals of etiquette were written by their hand. People go so far as to claim that merely keeping them close lends weight to an emperor's or an empress's legitimacy, so they are a house you would do well to bring in."
The important points among his words went down on the paper—the names of the houses, their character, the things she would need to remember. Information Laniakea had spent the past several days trying, by any means she could, to hear now poured from his mouth.
She was scribbling in a daze when she noticed Hyperion staring straight at her, and the hand that had been racing across the page came to a stop. He had deliberately fallen silent, waiting for her to finish.
"I'm sorry. I still don't understand the Empire well enough—let alone its nobles…"
Among the nobility, failing to remember every turn of a conversation and having to write it down was a shameful thing. One could easily be talked of as a fool who could not even retain a remark made in the middle of a social gathering.
In truth, Laniakea did not think of herself as clever. No—she thought herself rather stupid.
My sisters always said I was pathetic.
It was difficult to think otherwise. Her two elder sisters had not only carried out their duties brilliantly with the aid of high-tier spirits; they had been exceptionally sharp besides. What they saw or heard once, they memorized without difficulty, and even the studies said to be so arduous they grasped and mastered in no time. Laniakea had cut back on sleep and tried, but she could never match them.
"How could every sister be outstanding? Still, with the two elder princesses so very excellent, we of the kingdom can rest easy."
Even the nursemaid who took Laniakea's side, if only a little, had spoken that way, and before she knew it Laniakea herself had come to take her own inadequacy as a matter of course.
She had no confidence she could do this perfectly. Even so, she wanted as few mistakes as possible in the work that was hers to do. If that was the case, the only way was to set down what she was told carefully enough that she would never have to ask twice.
As if ashamed, Laniakea drew the page she had been writing a little closer to herself. Only then did Hyperion, who had been looking at the paper, seem to come back to himself. He lifted his head and looked at her.
"Why are you apologizing? Of course you don't know everything about the Empire. Even those who have moved in society since childhood keep a secretary beside them to say who is who, because they can't know everyone. You needn't strain yourself trying to remember too much all at once."
"But Your Majesty was far away, and you still know all of it…"
"On the border, one must be all the more sensitive to news of the nobles within the Empire. The defense of the frontier is bound tightly to the center. I only remember it because I've seen and heard it for a long time."
Then he added:
"So don't push yourself too hard from the very start."
But the end would be upon her before long. Shouldn't she give everything she had from the beginning?
She was thinking that when Hyperion brought another document and began again.
"More to the point, this house requires caution. It was never made public, but they were one of the former Empress's closest confidants. And the fact that they've already put forward a candidate for a maid's post looks to me like an open attempt to plant a watcher. And this one…"
At the explanation that went on and on, Laniakea's hand began to race once more. At some point the paper she had been clutching to her chest, as if to hide it, came to rest easily on the table, but she never noticed. She simply kept writing.
There really was a great deal to take down.
By rights, the two of them should have dined that day in the spacious dining hall of the Main Palace. Instead their meal took place in the office, and on a table that was not particularly large.
The first reason was that Laniakea's paperwork showed no sign of shrinking. The second was that talking without pause had left them suddenly ravenous, with no leisure to linger over a formal dinner. And so the head chef of the Main Palace prepared food that could be eaten simply and quickly.
The chief chamberlain set the dishes at one side of the table and looked thoroughly troubled.
"Are you quite certain this will do, here?"
Once, a meal like this would have been exceedingly awkward. They sat far too close, and the food laid out was nothing like the etiquette of the Imperial Palace—the sort of fare people without ceremony might eat at their ease. Hyperion was still an awkward presence to Laniakea, and she ought to have been flustered. And yet—
"Then, rather than leaving the summer annex to the Outer Palace Bureau, it would be better to look for someone to take charge of it right away."
So saying, Laniakea bit into the sandwich in her hand. Across from her, Hyperion took a large bite of his own, swallowed almost at once, and answered.
"That's right. The previous steward resigned the moment the former Empress left. It wasn't a post one needed to abandon, and quitting in such haste means there was a reason for it."
As he went on, his eyes narrowed.
"The Inner Palace Bureau is in chaos at the moment. Hand this to them now, and documents may go missing—or the ledgers may be altered."
Caught up in a serious conversation about the work, she had no attention left to spare for whether what she held was a sandwich or a document. Her head was spinning with all the matters being sorted through, and yet Laniakea was simply glad. She ate the last piece of the sandwich and, unable to hide her pleasure, said:
"I'm glad I brought this to Your Majesty."
Hyperion looked at her as if to ask what she meant, and she answered without wiping the smile from her face.
"Honestly, until I came to the Main Palace today, I felt completely at a loss. Choosing the maids was one thing, but I was worried about the other work as well. Thanks to you, I can deal with the urgent matters quickly."
As if by magic, the things that had weighed on her these past few days fell into order. And contrary to her fears, Hyperion had never once looked annoyed or frustrated. He had told her everything. The information mattered, but his manner meant even more.
"I should have consulted you sooner. Thank you, truly. Ah—that doesn't mean I intend to keep being a nuisance…"
"You may keep asking."
He spoke in a rush, before she could even finish.
"Your work is my work as well. If something is difficult, or if you need help, please tell me freely."
"Even so, I worry I'm taking up too much of Your Majesty's time. And I have no other way to be of help to you…"
Even if it could not match what he was doing for her, she wished there were something she could do in return. To only ever receive like this—wouldn't that be too great a burden on him? She was thinking exactly that when he spoke.
"If you truly feel that way… would you grant me one request?"
"Yes! Just say the word!"
She answered gladly. Hyperion hesitated, then spoke with care.
"Might I see the spirits once more? Let me say this first—I don't mean to use them. I only found them so wondrous that I want to see them again. As you know, in this land spirits are said to be beings one cannot see. Ah, I'm not forcing you. If it troubles you, then don't."
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, he had added that last.
"It isn't that…"
Laniakea thought of Baepsae. The moment it appeared, hadn't it flung curses? She had sent it away amid the confusion, but she could not be sure Hyperion would overlook that rudeness a second time.
When she hesitated, he picked up the next document, as if to say she truly need not concern herself with it any further.
In truth, calling spirits before another person was still something she shrank from. She had thought it a secret she would have to carry alone until she died.
But if it's His Majesty, I think it will be all right.
Anyone else would have told her, from the very day they first saw them, to summon them again. They would have pried into the spirits and pondered how to use them. But from the day Hyperion first saw them until now, he had said nothing at all.
She still could not know all of what kind of man he was. Even so, if it was to repay him for helping her today, surely that much would be all right.
"Your Majesty, may I borrow this for a moment?"
Having made up her mind, Laniakea took up his teacup, still full of tea. And with familiar ease, she called her friend.
"There's good tea. Won't you come for a moment, Minnow?"
In that instant—
Pop!
With a clear, bright sound, a droplet sprang up above the teacup.