The Kite Maker's Throne
In the end, just as the original agreement had stipulated, Leona's army and Setia's forces each took sixteen castles.
There had been voices among our own ranks urging a further push south, but Andeln refused them. The first reason, I guessed, was that the supply lines would stretch too thin. The second was that he simply lacked the confidence to face Leona's main force.
After they had peaceably split the castles down the middle, neither side invaded the other for a time. Leona's army had been worn down by the long civil war, and Andeln's regime, born of rebellion, was still too unstable to risk another campaign.
Each side had its own reasons not to fight.
With Clauzel dead, Leona became the sole remaining head of House Krusenstein.
Which meant that from now on, Leona's army would no longer be called Leona's army — it would be the Krusenstein army.
As for me, the victory in the last battle had restored the territory I had lost.
On top of that restoration, I was granted an additional eighty thousand gok of land — enough to raise two thousand soldiers.
In a single stroke, the force I could mobilize had swollen from two thousand to six thousand.
Given how well I performed, it was only natural, in a way.
In that last battle I had been, beyond any doubt, the foremost architect of victory. Without me, our side would have been forced to flee in disgrace before a mere five thousand men.
We had lost many soldiers, but we had kept our honor. Andeln had been thoroughly pleased by that.
Strange. I keep feeling as though I'm earning more and more of Andeln's trust.
Winning Andeln's confidence was not, for me, particularly advantageous. After all, Andeln would soon be dead, and the regime would change hands with him.
A few days later, Andeln took to his bed.
"What is the illness?"
"The same disease that afflicted Lord Henrik."
"Father? What disease did Father have?"
Henrik had hidden his condition so thoroughly — from retainers and family alike — that few people knew what had actually killed him.
"Consumption."
In modern terms: pulmonary tuberculosis.
"Consumption?"
In this age, consumption was an exceedingly common disease — and, for all its commonness, an incurable one. There was no medicine for it.
And, crucially—
"Consumption is contagious, is it not!"
It was contagious. Which meant Henrik had been concealing a contagious disease from everyone around him. Only then did Andeln understand: Henrik had passed the consumption on to him.
"Damn it all! Even in death, Father is useless!"
Of course, it would be a stretch to claim Henrik had hidden the illness knowing of Andeln's betrayal. Henrik had simply feared that his power would waver if the truth came out. But the result, unintended as it was, had taken the shape of revenge — the disease transferred.
"Consumption. Damn it. Consumption. Then what am I supposed to do?"
"As Your Grace is well aware, there is no sovereign remedy for consumption. All one can do is rest thoroughly and avoid overexertion…"
"How is a duke of an entire region supposed to simply rest well— khack!"
"Agitation is also harmful to the body."
"This damned—!"
Crash! The glass Andeln hurled shattered against the floor.
"Consumption at my age! At this young age!"
"Please calm yourself. The disease has already progressed considerably. If possible, I would urge Your Grace to step down from the ducal seat, retire, and enjoy a life of quiet leisure."
"Damn it — do you know what it took for me to become duke? Damn it!"
Tears began to well in Andeln's eyes. A diagnosis like a bolt from a clear sky. Consumption — and already well advanced.
In the modern world it was a disease rarely seen outside developing nations, and even then, one that could be cured. But in this era it still ranked among the incurable.
And so Andeln could only despair. He would not live long. And for whatever years remained, the consumption would torment him without rest.
The next day, the physician who had examined Andeln was found dead on the road home — murdered, by the look of it, in an ambush.
And, by a coincidence so perfect it was almost grotesque, Andeln concealed the fact that he had consumption. Just as Henrik had done, he told no one that his health was failing.
When Andeln resumed his administrative duties as usual, those around him shrugged it off — He called a doctor, so it couldn't have been anything serious — but Franz Meyer, who knew the truth, could only feel a cold revulsion.
Hiding the illness so he won't have to let go of power? He could die like that.
For consumption — for tuberculosis — fatigue was the worst enemy. An exhausted body only accelerated the disease.
And yet Andeln could not bring himself to surrender power, so he surrendered his health instead.
True madness.
That madness would devour Andeln himself.
One year and three months later. Imperial Year 552, the twentieth of February.
Andeln died. It had been all but inevitable. He had pushed himself while the tuberculosis was already well advanced. That he had lasted a year and three months could almost be called longevity.
I turned twenty-four and finally caught up to the age of this body. For the first time, flesh and spirit felt as though they roughly aligned.
Lucille, now eighteen, had changed in atmosphere. She had grown quieter, more womanly.
She had always given an impression of delicate lines, but adulthood had made her far more slender and wistful. Judging by air and countenance alone, she might have been some young widow from somewhere far away.
I fretted over her enough that I made a point of feeding her one more bite whenever I could, and of giving her reasons to smile. Even Lucille, who was usually expressionless, would often laugh when it was just the two of us.
And when Andeln died, Lucille presented a scheme.
"With both Lord Henrik and Lord Andeln gone, the strongest force left in House Setia is the Four Great Families. And around those Four Great Families, a movement will rise to put forward the next lord."
"Mm. That follows."
"The next lord can only be Lord Adel. Without him, the blood of Setia is cut off."
"True enough."
"If Lord Adel is elevated under the Four Great Families' lead, the center of power will shift back to them, won't it? Lord Adel will be reduced to a figurehead on the pretext that he still needs more study."
"Mm."
"If we move with that in mind, Brother can place himself at the heart of power."
Lucille's plan ran as follows. Adel would be pushed around at will by the Four Great Families. I, too, stood currently shut out from the center of politics.
Sooner or later, Adel would try to reclaim the power that had been taken from him. He would seek out those likewise shut out from the center and forge a new pro-lord faction — and there I would appear, belonging to no existing faction yet holding vast territory, and throw my weight behind Lord Adel to become the head of that pro-lord faction.
That was the reading Lucille laid before me.
Interesting.
What was interesting was how nearly identical it was to the reading I had already formed myself.
To devise a scheme so close to an Intelligence-100 strategist's… Maybe my own intellect is fairly high after all?
I almost felt a flicker of confidence.
But—
"Actually, this scheme doesn't end there."
"Hm? Doesn't end?"
"There's a hidden element."
"A hidden element?"
"The positions of the territories."
"The positions?"
Lucille drew out a map. On parts of it she had marked blue dots; on others, red. Blue for our side, red for the enemy.
"This is the projected power map if the operation succeeds. Does anything come to mind?"
"Th-this is…!"
"Yes. Our faction's territories end up wrapping the enemy on three sides — east, south, and north. Even if the Four Great Families and the eventual pro-lord faction look roughly equal in strength, the shape of the land itself forms a semi-encirclement. If civil war breaks out, our side holds an overwhelming advantage."
"…!"
I had not thought that far. What I had considered was only which houses to draw into a faction and which to treat as enemies. Transfer that onto a map, and this was the shape it took…
I had no idea…
How could I have? Merely memorizing the names and histories of dozens of houses had been taxing enough; analyzing their leanings and positions had filled my head to the brim. So I had thought only of pulling in as many houses as possible.
But Lucille was different. She had carried a map inside her mind. On that inner map she had added this house, erased that one, and fretted over how to construct a semi-encirclement.
Only then did I feel I understood the difference between a genius and an ordinary person. I could never become a genius.
But…
I could become a genius's good older brother. I stroked the hair of expressionless Lucille. She closed her eyes with a faint, pleased smile.
"Master! Please look at the kite I made!"
A middle-aged man bowed his head, holding out a scrap of a kite to someone. On the other side, a person unfolded the kite with a familiar flourish and began to inspect it. The one being called Master was, astonishingly, still only in his teens.
"Hmm~ The quality is excellent. Technically, there's no problem at all."
"Thank you! Thank you, Mast—"
"No. That doesn't mean it's good."
"Pardon? But just now you said it was good…"
"A kite, you see, is about the idea more than the quality. No matter how technically superb a kite may be, if it has no originality of its own, it can't match a single clever kite made by a child. Isn't your design identical to the mass-produced goods sold in the market? You need to cultivate a child's heart more than technique."
"B-but how does one cultivate a child's heart…"
"That's for you to figure out. My advice ends here."
With that, the teenage young man returned his attention to his own kite-making. At those few words, the middle-aged man went pale and stared blankly at the kite in his hands.
"Everyone, you know. They fixate only on technical skill and have no creativity. Creativity."
That young man was already a star craftsman of kite-making, with dozens of hit pieces to his name. His name was Adel von Setia. These days he worked under the simple name Adel, but he had once been a lord's son.
In the castle town of Krusenstein he had lived making kites in bulk, delivering dreams and hope to children — until one day a band of knights appeared before him.
"Are you Lord Adel?"
"Mm. Knights coming by — so some noble's son wants a kite made, is that it?"
"Seize him!"
Two knights grabbed Adel by both arms and began to drag him away. His disciples tried to intervene, but the other knights who had come along drew their swords, and there was nothing they could do.
"Master! Master's being kidnapped!"
Adel was just as bewildered. Once his older brother became lord, he had thought he would be able to live quietly — and now these strangers had shown up to haul him off? Haul him off where, for that matter?
That was how Adel von Setia came to be forcibly seated as the next lord.