Lilgaslighting

Besk Lonhadia.

The 'Duke of Twin Moons,' the lowest seat among the Eight Swords of the Empire — and until just one day ago, the master of this very place.

Head of the Lonhadia Ducal House.

"Welcome, Marquis Besk."

A marquis now, that is.

"...Yes."

He stood before me, visibly suppressing his resentment, doing his utmost to hide the discomfort written all over his face.

"Something bothering you?"

"No. Not at all."

"You seem bothered."

"Absolutely not."

"Hmm..."

"......"

I gave a light nod and picked up the stack of documents laid out on the table.

Reports on the internal and external state of the Lonhadia Duchy, special notices, petitions streaming in from every corner of the territory — the whole lot.

"You processed all of these yourself, I take it?"

"...Yes. That is... correct."

He certainly didn't look like the type. From what I'd heard, he inherited the family at a young age — but apparently he had a genuine talent for managing a domain.

I rated him quite highly, and he gave a nod with a distinctly unjoyful expression.

"Good, then. No need to hand the work over twice."

"I beg your pardon?"

"From now on, the administration of the Principality — yes. The Principality of Elbrit — I entrust to you."

I set a few of the documents back down as I spoke, and his face twisted into something strange.

Not because I disliked handing over territory management, mind you.

"Why? No — forgive me. Why would you... do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"...I belong to the Empire."

True. I had received the whole of Lonhadia as ceded territory from the Duke of Yellow Embers — but not his seat among the Eight Swords.

Of course, one could argue that since I'd taken the Lonhadia family itself lock, stock, and barrel, that seat came with it. But fundamentally, the Eight Swords stood with the imperial house.

Having just carved this land out of the Empire as a sovereign principality, handing full authority to a man loyal to the Empire would make this place nothing more than a colony under imperial administration.

A hopelessly naive decision, if it had truly come from someone who looked ready to go to war with the Empire at any moment.

Tap, tap. I drummed my fingers on the table, then flashed him a grin.

"Suit yourself."

"...I'm sorry?"

"It makes no difference to me how you run the Principality. Keep the old ways if you like — or, given how the political winds have shifted, run it differently. Either is fine."

But.

"Your master, right now, is me. Lily Elbrit."

So think carefully.

"I will promise you fair compensation and a title of your own, and I will separately grant lands and property to the surviving members of the old Lonhadia house as well."

I'm going to give you a reward worthy of your name.

"So all you need to concern yourself with is the prosperity of the Elbrit Principality — the one where I reside. Whether that path leads to friendly ties with the Empire or close relations with other kingdoms, I couldn't care less."

So make this place flourish.

By any means necessary.

"......."

Besk's expression turned solemn.

Watching him, I let a strange little smile play across my lips.

Besk Lonhadia.

He hailed from one of the venerable houses that had once made its name across the Empire — a family that wielded the weapon of the 'Twin Moons.'

But after the previous head — a man whose renown rivaled the Duke of Battle Blood or Duke Unsa — died young, a mere child of an heir was left to fill his seat.

Far too green compared to his predecessor, Besk was branded with a 'question of legitimacy' and met with nothing but poor reviews, jealousy, and envy.

Worse, several reports had come in suggesting that certain parties were picking apart the ducal house — an institution once spoken of in the same breath as the Thalical Kingdom — piece by piece.

And above all...

"Besk Lonhadia."

"Yes."

He had lost the Grand Demon Duke — the line known as Karia — his single greatest pillar.

With even the shield that had guarded him now gone, his house was little more than a candle in the wind.

"The name 'Lonhadia' sold off as spoils of a lost war. What do you suppose the world will say of that?"

"......"

"'Lonhadia fell because its lord was incompetent.' 'If only the lord had been up to the task, this would never have happened.'"

If the heir had been stronger than the previous head.

No — if the previous head had simply not died so young.

'The entire house would never have fallen into foreign hands.'

"...Something to that effect, yes."

"...It's meaningless now."

Besk ground his teeth as he murmured the words.

He was angry, yes — but he also ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt the weight of the present situation more keenly than anyone else alive.

So I handed him a gift.

THUNK.

A slightly dull, heavy sound rang across the table, and Besk's eyes went perfectly round.

A silver weapon etched with the crescents of two moons.

"If I were you, I wouldn't sit still for this..."

"...!"

"You're not the sort to be satisfied with so little, are you?"

Well?

Shall we do this properly, just once?

"......"

An opportunity.

Now that he had lost everything, this was a second chance.

A chance to raise the name of 'Lonhadia' once more — and to take revenge on those who had slandered his family and his father.

His deliberation did not last long.

"...Yes!"

Eyes blazing with resolve, Besk collected his weapon, left the office with a hardened expression, and threw himself into his work.

In a more cartoonish rendering, flames were probably flickering up from the top of his head.

"...Well, call it luck."

Even without me, Besk and his house, Lonhadia, had been about ninety percent guaranteed to collapse regardless.

Granted, with centuries of accumulated prestige behind them, they wouldn't have been wiped out entirely... but they'd have shrunk to a shadow of their former selves.

And if they'd had their weapon taken from them a second time, on top of losing the Karia line entirely...

'They might have simply been absorbed into the Duke of Yellow Embers' faction or Arne's.'

From the Empire's perspective, a strong central power is welcome — and Arne needs strength capable of standing against that very central power.

"Lonhadia was a fading star. They lost the Grand Demon Duke, their greatest patron, and the reputation of Besk, the Twin Moon Duke and head of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the house, cratered into the abyss. I merely made use of that."

"...Anyway, moving on..."

Having stepped out of the office, I made my rounds through the Elbrit Principality to take stock of things.

The third Siege Warfare had ended yesterday, but the siege system would remain active for the next two weeks.

With the caveat that not everyone could simply join in — both sides had to mutually agree for Cores to spawn in each other's castles, and when one side's was destroyed, the other's vanished as well.

The two-week siege was essentially an event game, so outright conquest was, naturally, impossible; any castle that crumbled and any items lost would be fully restored.

'...Come to think of it, Raguel's castle did get destroyed.'

The castle that the Sword God had cleaved clean in two.

Because of that, Raguel and the other archangels were pouring their strength into rebuilding — but since they'd taken first place in the siege, resources surely weren't a problem.

If anything, they might be celebrating.

'Maybe I'll pay them a visit.'

They had asked me to drop by, after all.

"I'm going to stop by the Angel Guild for a bit."

"Who knows?"

If it comes to that.

After arriving at the Eden Federation, I stopped by Cres, where Raguel's castle was under reconstruction.

Cres Castle was already rising hammer and tongs.

Since they were building from the ground up, they were apparently upgrading the whole structure to be far grander than before.

The costs were steep, they said, but they'd profited handsomely from the siege, so it was no trouble at all...

After that, I was escorted to the round-table chamber, where everyone had gathered except Raphael and... Metatron, I suppose?

"...More to the point. You never ran into the Duke of Battle Blood, did you?"

"Oh, right. That guy. Duke of Battle Blood, Kasar Ronbte."

"God, that man was an absolute lunatic. No — I don't even think he was a man. Good grief."

"Agreed."

Raguel shuddered as if reliving that day, and Uriel and Sandalphon beside her both nodded.

"I only caught a glimpse of him myself, but he certainly fought well."

"Hehe. You think so?"

"We WERE three of us, you know!"

"...Well, if you asked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Lily, I'd guess it'd all be about the same to her, no?"

By their original combat strength, the mere appearance of the Duke of Battle Blood should have meant death for all of them — at best, one of them barely surviving to hold the line.

Instead, the archangels had weathered his attacks and even dealt him a respectable measure of damage.

By their account, the rankers in the west had pushed Leo hard, and had put up quite the showing against the other Eight Swords as well.

'The rankers have grown sharper.'

Truly, the rankers — the users — had improved by leaps and bounds compared to when I'd first laid eyes on them.

The reason, most likely, was my lectures.

'Yena, Leo, Redberry...'

And countless rankers beyond them had climbed at such a steep rate that the difference between before and after the lectures was plainly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠visible.

The Mock Siege Battle alone had been enough to throw the balance-adjustment system completely out of whack.

I'd even given an emergency lecture to the rankers gathered on the Snowy Mountain during the Sgaredo raid.

'A good omen.'

The more gifted ones delivered meaningful results, the more enjoyable teaching them became for me as well.

Come to think of it, it might not be a bad idea to actually build 'that thing' now.

The capital and the land were both right there, after all.