Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: Miraculous Promotion
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Can you believe there's a fresh-faced 18-year-old who's caught the Emperor's eye and risen to Honorary Knight and Baron in less than half a year?
In nearly a thousand years of imperial history, it would be a lie to say there've been no miraculous promotions like that.
Every millennium or so, someone who leaves their mark on history tends to pop up.
The problem is whether I can hitch my wagon to one of those people.
Truth be told, squeezing myself in among folks who've achieved feats worthy of the history books feels like a bit of a stretch in terms of caliber.
"Why the long face? Surely my praise didn't displease you?"
As I gazed out at the audience, whose faces were growing increasingly rotten while they clapped along, His Majesty—his own face brimming with delight—nudged my arm and whispered softly.
He knew exactly why, yet he still asked. How devious.
But the devious one just happened to be the Emperor.
"It's not that it displeased me... It's just, this feels far too much for someone like me."
With nothing else I could do, I trembled slightly and gave a roundabout answer.
"Too much, you say..."
His Majesty narrowed his eyes and trailed off.
After a brief moment of thought, he emerged with a smile in his eyes.
"I don't think it's too much at all, compared to what you're capable of."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Just that underestimating yourself isn't good... If it's burdensome, then work even harder than before. You have to earn what you receive, don't you think?"
"In that case... does that mean I can't refuse...?"
"If so, next time you'd jump straight to Viscount. That alright with you?"
"Pardon? That's not... I mean...!"
The utterly horrifying notion made my voice rise without thinking.
In a panic that my words might pick up on the mic, I hurriedly clapped a hand over my mouth.
"Heh heh~ Why so startled? Before our Elizabeth turns nineteen, you'll have to make at least Marquis, no?"
"Ah..."
"Your gloomy expression doesn't deny it, so it seems you're somewhat prepared already. Go ahead and mess things up without worry."
Even conservatively, that meant a rank-up event every eight months—or worst case, every four. My breath caught in my throat.
I'd steeled myself to some extent since denying it would make me conscienceless, but with precedents and public scrutiny, I figured it'd take at least five years.
Two years at most?
My shoulders felt heavier than ever, in every sense.
"St-still, shouldn't we pace it out a bit?"
"You planning to leave our Elizabeth an old maid? You don't intend to turn her into some defective virgin who can't marry even in her twenties, do you?"
"No, of course not..."
"Then we need to raise you fast enough for an engagement ceremony before she comes of age, right?"
"Urgh..."
Parachute to Marquis at nineteen with no merits,
or stack up achievements so no one can nitpick even after Marquis.
Either way, a grueling life lay ahead, no doubt.
"I believe you'll live up to my expectations splendidly."
"Understood..."
I desperately wanted to let out a sigh.
But I couldn't do something insane like sighing in front of everyone, right beside His Majesty, so I forced a smile and stared into space.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Even after making me a baron, His Majesty's address dragged on for a few more minutes.
The truly horrific part? They forgot to bring me down from the stage.
Thanks to that, I became the Emperor's decorative screen, enduring the speech from the absolute best seat in the house.
Every member of the audience listening to His Majesty was shooting me looks of 'Who the hell is that kid the Emperor's clinging to like that?'—twisting my guts in real time.
"You did well."
"Not at all..."
By the time His Majesty's speech mercifully ended, my face had gone from pale to ashen. I finally stumbled down from the stage.
A few more minutes up there, and I'd have definitely fainted, puked, or wet myself—one of the three for sure.
"Hoo..."
"So, how did it feel looking out at the crowd from the podium?"
"I was so tense I thought I'd die. Standing in front of people really doesn't suit me."
"Heh heh~ Everyone's like that at first. Even I went white as a sheet and shook like a leaf my first time before the people."
This was unexpected.
Tension and the Emperor felt worlds apart—like opposite ends of the planet.
"You're so composed now, I can't believe you had such a past."
"No one's born proficient. You'll get there soon enough, even you who struggled today."
"Ahaha..."
I laughed awkwardly, rubbing my stuffy chest.
He plans to keep me close until I get used to this.
Which meant a few more summons to the stage were inevitable.
"Your Majesty."
"William."
As we descended fully toward the VIP seats, the Imperial Chamberlain and Elizabeth, waiting between the stage and seats, spotted us and approached.
"Tch... Looks like it's time to part for now. See you in the audience chamber later."
"Yes, understood."
Perhaps disappointed the Chamberlain arrived sooner than expected, His Majesty smacked my back lightly with a wistful look before heading off with him to the audience chamber.
"Good job."
As I watched His Majesty's retreating figure and gave a slight bow, Elizabeth sidled up, slipped her arm through my left, and naturally hooked elbows.
"First time in a place like that, yet you stayed pretty calm?"
"No, my stomach's still churning like I'm about to die..."
"Your face says it all—sweat's pouring down your forehead."
Elizabeth gazed at me fondly, spotted the beads of sweat trickling down my brow, pulled a handkerchief from her bosom, and dabbed my forehead gently.
The spot she drew it from was a bit odd, but royals' dresses might have secret pockets I didn't know about. I pretended not to notice and accepted the faintly citrus-scented cloth.
"......"
Damn...
Of all scents, why a sour fruit one?
I wanted to believe it was citrus perfume, but my mind, fixated on weird ideas, kept conjuring improper images.
"Why's your face suddenly flushing?"
"Must be the tension easing up."
"Hmm..."
Elizabeth eyed me suspiciously.
She stared intently, humming as if demanding the truth, but I desperately ignored it and looked straight ahead.
"Anyway, shouldn't we head to the audience chamber soon?"
"Fine, I'll let it slide this time."
"......"
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow magnanimously and looked ahead.
Phew... Thank goodness we had a schedule left.
If we'd been alone, she'd have grilled me until she got a satisfying answer.
Terrifying, utterly terrifying.
"Hah..."
I exhaled in relief mixed with exasperation, cursing teenage imagination's boundless fantasies, and took a step forward matching Elizabeth's stride.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The power of the title "the young baron the Emperor keeps close" was palpable right away, as its name implied—an aura you could feel fast.
"Lord Howard shares a surname with Count Hume. Any relation?"
"Count Hume is my father. I'm his second son and fourth child."
"Ah! So you are the Count's son. You look just like him."
"Even Count Hume's children are extraordinary."
"They say he deals with demihumans, witches, and mages alike. What do you do now, Lord Howard?"
"I run a small atelier making clothes."
Just hours ago, the VIPs had eyed me like 'Who's this nobody crashing the party?' Now, they were showing interest in not just Elizabeth, but me too.
Each questioner was a grand duke, prince, or archduke from elsewhere—folks a landless baron like me could hardly share a room with, let alone catch attention. But "Emperor's backing" made such trifles irrelevant.
"Might I ask how you came to befriend Princess Victoria...?"
"I think making her dress for Founding Day played a big part."
"Of course..."
"The Princess's dress, no less..."
With a solid portfolio to boot, I could see their evaluations rising by the second.
People do look different based on background and status, sure—but witnessing the shift in hours was a complex feeling.
"Got a calling card?"
Amid the awkwardly chuckling nobles murmuring among themselves, a grand duke from a neighboring kingdom stepped forward and asked for my card.
"I do, but..."
"Some issue?"
I trailed off awkwardly, rubbing my nape.
I had cards, of course.
A businessman without them would be in trouble.
But today, there was a hitch in handing them out freely.
"I didn't expect all this today, so they say Honorary Knight, not Baron."
They weren't updated.
Digital would be a quick edit, but physical cards meant reprinting—a hassle.
Not a huge deal since the change was today, but handing pre-baron cards post-promotion felt psychologically off.
"Even better—give me one."
Contrary to my worries, the grand duke grinned and extended his hand expectantly.
"It's not updated, you sure?"
"Absolutely. It's proof I knew you before fame hits. The more famous you get, the sharper my eye looks. Win-win."
"Ah..."
Truly highborn—they spin meaning like clockwork. Every time, I'm amazed.
I figured it'd end up crumpled in a drawer, but he sees it as 'I knew this guy back when he was nobody' bragging rights.
"Here you go, then."
No reason to refuse if he wants it, so I pulled my card case from my inner pocket and handed one over.
"Thanks. I'll contact you if I need a commission sometime."
"Please do, anytime."
Businessmen exchange cards, but nobles don't have the custom, so I got a pat on the back instead.
"Might I have one too?"
"Give me one as well."
"One for me."
"Make it one for me too."
"Oh..."
As the grand duke retreated with a pleased chuckle, others who'd watched lined up one by one for cards.
The enthusiastic response secretly thrilled me.
"Of course."
I smiled, drew a stack from my bosom, and handed them out while locking eyes, memorizing faces—prospective clients etched firmly in my mind.
Even one turning customer would be a jackpot.
I suffered plenty thanks to His Majesty, but these sweet side benefits made it all worthwhile.