Chapter 299
Chapter 299
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 299
Chapter Title: Gorgeous Vacation (3)
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Northern Territories, Jaegerburg Castle Audience Chamber
Those three months of suspension—sweet as honey—had flown by in the blink of an eye.
During that time, I'd done my best to spend as much time as possible with Laura and my other wives, along with my son Friedrich. It was the first time in years I'd set aside all worries about work and just lived at ease.
Every night, we'd spend hours wrapped in passion, rising slowly around noon to have brunch before strolling with Louise, knitting or cooking together. It was a peaceful life.
That said, for a young man just turning thirty, this tension-free routine wasn't entirely to my liking—it started feeling a bit boring at times. I didn't quite dream of living as a wealthy idler, though.
I figured by my early fifties, I'd probably have risen to Field Marshal at least, so I even sketched out life plans: retire at the right time, travel with my wives a few times a year, and live peacefully.
Now that my suspension was lifted, I was up here in the north by His Majesty's orders, dragging along the Crown Prince and an entire regiment of the Guard Knights to receive audiences with the tribal chiefs.
It wasn't quite retirement-worthy, but with four stars on my shoulder, I couldn't help wondering what the hell I was doing.
And why, of all places, did the central stronghold of the northern region have to be named Jaegerburg...?
No, I get it—they respect me for slaying the Khan. But from the perspective of this possessor with a faint trace of Korean sentiment left, seeing "my name as a city name" made my face burn just a little.
Anya, Laura, Charlotte, and Friedrich, who came with me, had all clapped and said it was cool when they saw the name...
As I lost myself in stray thoughts, a voice from outside requested another audience.
"The chief of the Homipichi tribe, Sir Mikhail von Homipichi, requests an audience."
At those words, I snapped to attention, and the Crown Prince replied confidently, as if it were routine.
"Grant the audience."
The audience chamber doors opened, and the Homipichi chief entered holding a scroll.
He was so nervous that his left arm and leg moved in sync with his right arm and leg, making him look utterly awkward.
Behind him came someone who seemed to be his son, carefully carrying a northern-style sword and leather cloak in both hands.
The two had clearly practiced the proper posture for an audience—they dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
I remembered being incredibly tense myself the first time I went to pay respects to the current Emperor, back when he was the Crown Prince.
His Highness Albert had been well-taught not to falter in such situations; he spoke in a remarkably calm voice.
"You may raise your heads."
"Thank you, Your Highness. We have brought humble tribute. Please accept it."
Two Guard Knights near the Crown Prince moved in—one took the sword and leather cloak, the other the scroll.
The scroll went straight to the Crown Prince's chamberlain, who unfurled it swiftly and read its contents.
"One cloak made of the finest bear pelt, a scabbard and cavalry sword crafted in the traditional style of northern nomads, ten bear pelts, twenty wolf pelts, forty fox pelts, and thirty warhorses—we offer these in gratitude for His Majesty's grace. Though modest, please accept our sincere hearts."
Converting all that to gold would run into the hundreds, but there was good reason for the Homipichi chief to present such carefully chosen gifts.
In yakuza terms, it was protection money; more politely, it was a symbolic show of loyalty beyond the national defense tax, which was fifty percent of the taxes levied by imperial lords from the tribes.
Offering these ensured the Empire wouldn't mark them down.
And if Stockholm or the Sweden Kingdom pulled some crazy stunt threatening their territory, they'd get protection too.
The more they offered now, the better impression they'd make on the Emperor, boosting their clan's future prosperity.
But given Emperor Michael's personality, he wouldn't grant extra lands or privileges just for the wealth.
"The Homipichi tribe's loyalty has been duly received by me, Albert von Reich, Crown Prince of the Empire. I will speak well of it to His Majesty."
It was a tough line for a ten-year-old Crown Prince, but thanks to thorough practice with his chamberlain on the way here, his pronunciation and intonation were flawless.
The clueless Homipichi fellow, seeing this ten-year-old respond so boldly, must have thought him a genius.
"We are deeply grateful, Your Highness."
"Good. Though modest, His Imperial Father expresses his thanks for the Homipichi chief's loyalty. Chamberlain, bring forth that sword."
The chamberlain fetched a fine sword from an imperial workshop in the corner, carried carefully by a Guard Knight.
It was presented to the chief in its box, and he received it reverently with both hands.
"You may withdraw. Continue to repay His Majesty's grace with your utmost efforts."
"The chief of the Homipichi tribe, Mikhail von Homipichi, swears eternal loyalty to the future sun of the Empire, His Highness the Crown Prince."
"I shall always trust in that."
The Crown Prince personally helped the kneeling chief to his feet.
To be precise, His Highness Albert—who stood barely 1.2 meters tall—couldn't quite lift a full-grown adult man.
But in such settings, the physical failure was a trivial matter.
What mattered in diplomatic and political audiences like this was that the "Crown Prince" had shown such goodwill by moving to help a mere northern tribal chief to his feet.
And the strategy worked—the Homipichi chief looked on the verge of tears.
Before the Imperial Army arrived to crush that bastard Ludwig, they'd been backed into a corner by Sweden and Stockholm Kingdoms, living hunted or as slaves.
With help from me and the Reich Empire's forces, Ludwig's head rolled, and now, with imperial support, they lived without starving like before. The grace they'd received must feel as vast as the heavens.
That's why they voluntarily hailed the Reich Empire's Emperor with their proudest title, "Kakan."
How could they hold back their emotion when the Crown Prince came all this way to see them, grant an audience, and even help them up?
"We will do our utmost for the Empire, Your Highness."
"Good. I am always grateful. Continue serving the Empire as you do now. Do not forget that His Imperial Father always holds high expectations."
With that, the chief left the room, unable to hide his overwhelming gratitude.
His Highness Albert let out a sigh of exhaustion, and the chamberlain eyed him with brief concern...
"Are there no more audiences scheduled for today, Chamberlain?"
"Over thirty more chiefs will come tomorrow, but today's schedule ends here, General."
Hearing that, I sighed in relief just like the Crown Prince and approached.
"You've worked hard today, Your Highness. My wife, Viscountess Anastasia Kerzhit, hails from the north, so shall I ask her to prepare some delicious northern dishes for dinner?"
No matter that he was the Crown Prince—he was still a ten-year-old boy, and after months traveling together, we'd grown close.
All the tension vanished from his face; he'd been playing the stern, serious, authoritative Crown Prince beyond his years until moments ago.
His voice brightened innocently, his face lighting up with anticipation for the food. But perhaps thinking he had to maintain superior-subordinate propriety despite our age gap?
"See to it."
He tried for sternness, but his voice came out pure child.
The chamberlain gave a helpless look, but I pressed on regardless.
Because if we were in the north, the Crown Prince needed to genuinely enjoy its culture—think "the north has such great things"—to maximize the impact of his visit.
Especially since many of these chiefs felt inferior about their simple, rugged cuisine compared to the Reich heartlands.
If the luxury-loving Crown Prince praised their food as delicious, it would move more than a few to tears—no exaggeration.
"Then tonight, I'll have Anastasia prepare cheese fondue. It's cheese melted and dipped with bread or meat."
His Highness, who rarely got cheese fondue in the palace due to health and etiquette rules, imagined gooey, stretchy cheese-drenched bites, and his face bloomed with smiles.
The chamberlain started to protest, but I pressed a finger to my lips and whispered.
"The imperial palace has its etiquette, but in the north, respecting their culture and enjoying their food is the highest courtesy. Besides, there's little else in northern cuisine that would suit Your Highness's tastes."
"......You're right, General. But if His Highness returns to the palace and later asks for fondue..."
I countered smoothly.
"Wouldn't that just mean His Majesty gains another favorite dish?"
And so, news of today's audiences and the Crown Prince enjoying northern food spread naturally across the entire north.