The Imperial Succession Struggle
The empire’s First Imperial Princess, Kalia Speltz, had come today to attend the funeral of Count Ansberg.
This was no ordinary count’s house. This was the Ansberg Count family, known as the Imperial Sword.
As it happened, the princess was already enrolled at Helon Academy. The Imperial House had decided that sending her would be a sufficient show of good faith toward the count’s family. After all, no one could deny that House Ansberg had long been the Imperial House’s faithful hounds.
Kalia’s own opinion, of course, had never entered into the decision.
In other respects—how to handle people, for instance—she was a little lacking. But when it came to political maneuvering, she prided herself on being exceptional. And by that measure, the recent gargoyle swarm’s assault had offered both advantages and disadvantages.
The unfortunate side, first: the fall of House Ansberg, once the Imperial House’s loyal dogs. That meant a reduction in imperial power, and one fewer card she would have been able to play when she eventually became emperor.
The fortunate side was that the late Count Ansberg had backed her elder brother—the First Imperial Prince—as the empire’s heir. His reasoning had been absurd. For the sake of imperial stability, he had argued, there was no need to stir up needless strife; one simply named the legitimate eldest son as successor.
Ha. If he truly cared for the empire, he ought to have backed the more capable candidate as heir.
At the very least, she was certain she was superior to her brother.
In any case, Count Ansberg was dead, and House Ansberg had fallen. Coldly speaking, little remained to them now beyond their name.
The First Imperial Prince, thrown into a panic, was already insisting that support for House Ansberg must be dispatched at once. The emperor’s will, it seemed, leaned much the same way.
Kalia, however, was not particularly worried. She held the card Louis had gifted her.
Even after the necklace’s recording was made public—even after everyone had seen Felice Ansberg’s disgraceful conduct—would there still be no opposition?
The prince seemed to intend, with this opportunity, to pour enough aid into House Ansberg to restore them entirely, bind them with a debt of gratitude, and lock the count’s house firmly onto his side in the succession struggle. If Kalia released the contents of the necklace, she could at least prevent support on that extravagant a scale.
Alternatively, she could seize the chance of Count Ansberg’s death to take House Ansberg for herself. But she had judged that the costs, for the moment, outweighed the gains. As she had already noted, the house was ruined, and the card of “supporting the count’s family” had already been claimed by the prince.
And above all else: the man she was currently pouring every effort into recruiting—Louis Wallenstein—did not seem likely to approve of such a move.
Speaking of whom, Louis Wallenstein had also come to today’s funeral.
The princess’s face tightened at the talk drifting in from the people around her. They were saying Felice had warned the count’s house in advance and thereby reduced the damage. Lies, of course. Judging by Felice’s reaction in the recording, that was impossible.
Perhaps Louis had not wanted to show himself fighting his own party members. He had stopped the recording the moment the gargoyles fled—but the cadet named Aine had forgotten to stop recording entirely until they reached the academy. Thanks to that, Kalia had even watched them stroll back toward the academy at their leisure. Chronologically speaking, Felice could never have warned her family.
What must Louis Wallenstein be thinking, listening to all this chatter?
She was still watching him with that question in mind when someone suddenly appeared, seized him, and dragged him off somewhere. The princess’s eyes narrowed. Had that not just been the second daughter of House Ansberg?
“Your Highness, where are you going?”
“Wait a moment.”
Leaving those words behind, the princess hurried after them as well.
And what she found was Lucy Ansberg apologizing to Louis—and the scheme she was describing, hatched by Felice and the Countess of Ansberg.
As she listened, the princess made up her mind all over again. House Ansberg? Let her brother have them. Throw the lot of them to the dogs. She would never, under any circumstances, pull such people into her own faction.
In any case, she decided it was time to step in. From where she stood, this Lucy Ansberg also looked like she was merely playing the good girl while cleverly using Louis.
As if. That man is mine first…
The thought made the princess flinch.
No—not like that!
Either way, she cut Lucy off mid-sentence and stepped forward.
“It may be difficult right now, but later I’ll find some way to make it up to you. And if you wish it, Young Master…”
“That is not what you should be saying, Lucy Ansberg. Once you learned the truth, you ought to have gone straight to the people and revealed it.”
Both of them turned to her in surprise.
“You appear no different from Felice—or from your mother.”
“Y-Your Highness?”
Louis spoke. After offering him a small smile, she turned back to Lucy.
“You’ll find some way to make it up later, you say… Easy words. Rhetoric straight out of an imperial diplomat’s handbook.”
“Your Highness, that is too harsh.”
Lucy said it despite the other woman’s rank as princess. She felt wronged. Just now she had been about to say, And if Young Master wishes it, I myself will go and tell everyone the truth. The princess had cut in without even hearing her out.
“If Young Master Louis wished it, I was prepared to tell the people the truth myself.”
“Yes. That is no doubt what you were about to say a moment ago.”
The princess conceded the point without resistance.
“But tell me—did you not make that offer precisely because you anticipated that Louis would never ask it of you?”
Struck square in the heart, Lucy could find no words. In truth, she had known Louis would never ask her to go tell everyone.
“The Louis Wallenstein I know is not the sort of man who would foist so cruel a task on another.”
Lucy bristled at the implication that the princess knew him so well, but the princess pressed on without pause.
“You seem rather close to Louis yourself. Knowing his nature as you do, did you not ultimately mean to lean on his kindness?”
Lucy trembled. She wanted to argue back—and her conscience would not let her.
“The fact that you learned the truth and, rather than telling anyone, went to Louis first is already disqualification enough.”
Furious at her own inability to refute a single word, Lucy felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. The princess was right. If she told everyone the truth, she was afraid her mother would punish her. She was afraid of how her family and the people of the house would treat her. Afraid of the retribution that would fall on her own head, she had intended to dump the role onto Louis.
She was of House Ansberg; Louis was of the traitor house of Wallenstein. If he, rather than she, were the one to speak, people would never believe him—and yet she had told herself that Louis would somehow manage it. That simply informing him of the facts completed her part. She had passed the choice to him, fully expecting he would never force so cruel a role onto her.
Miserable that she could not even answer the princess, she lowered her head and shook.
At last, Louis opened his mouth.
“…Your Highness. It was the countess’s decision. Young Lady Lucy had little choice. I am grateful that she told me the truth at all.”
Even in a situation like this—even before the princess herself—Louis took her side. Lucy was moved. Even after the princess had just laid bare every cowardly intention she had harbored, he still stood for her. She stared at him as though she could not believe it.
At the same time, the princess felt a small, unreasonable pang.
“Louis Wallenstein. I am trying to help you—why…!”
No, Louis’s words had clear sense to them. Still, watching him take Lucy’s side right in front of the person trying to help him left her oddly hurt.
“Tch… Follow me.”
She said it, turned on her heel, and started walking. She was put out with him, but not angry—and in any case, if she meant to thoroughly break Ansberg and stick it to her brother, this funeral was the perfect stage.
After a brief farewell to Lucy, Louis followed her.
A stretch of silence, and then Louis spoke first.
“Your Highness… if I offended you earlier, I apologize.”
“Forget it. I already knew you were that sort of person.”
The princess answered a little shortly, wondering herself why she was behaving this way.
“In any case, stop calling me Your Highness. Prefer the way you do at school…”
“President?”
“Yes. That is better. Louis Wallenstein—have you any idea yet of what you mean to do?”
“Ah… I have a rough plan, but…”
Louis answered with a faintly amused look.
“It is not, by any chance, that you mean to forgive Ansberg and simply let this pass?”
“It is not.”
That was a relief. If Louis had meant to let it go, she had not been sure what she would do. The princess smiled at him.
“I do not know what your plan is—but will you not leave this one to me? My words, I suspect, will carry rather more weight than yours.”
“Are you certain that is all right? I am more than happy with it, but…”
“Heh. Did I not ask first that we become closer? This much is nothing.”
“I am truly grateful. In return, anything you—”
Good. She decided then and there that she would use this chance to show Louis the magnificent figure of an imperial princess. She did not bother mentioning that she also meant to wreck her brother’s plans. While she was at it, she intended to lay a small favor on him and draw him into her faction.
At last she returned with Louis to the place where the burial rites were being conducted. People still thronged the area in thick numbers.
The princess smiled.