This Defies Explanation

The Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs was living through the busiest stretch it had seen in years.

The elves, for a start. Not so long ago they had been a people welded together by a single, swaggering creed: We are the greatest. Then they had split over the Empire, tearing themselves apart into Luzens and Heigens. War had followed war, and in the end Luzens had all but collapsed, reduced to a scattering of remnant factions. The rest had either been absorbed into Heigens or been so thoroughly crushed by the combined forces of the Empire and Heigens that they no longer had the means to do anything at all.

The result was a sharp rise in Heigens's influence—and with it, the urgent necessity of keeping relations with them smooth.

"Tread carefully. Mishandle Heigens, and we'll have another Luzens on our hands."

Forest sprites, woodland fairies—call them what you like. The Empire's upper ranks, at least, knew the truth: just how viciously, infuriatingly well the elves could fight. It was only the Empire's wholesale armament with gunpowder and firearms that had kept the butcher's bill as low as it was. Without that, far more blood would have been spilled, and far more soldiers would have died.

And so Heigens, having come over to the Empire's side, had to be kept inside the Empire's fold. Not that the Empire had any intention of putting itself in a subordinate position—but throwing its weight around was equally to be avoided. Steering toward a genuine win-win was the path that served everyone.

In that sense, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs found itself quietly grateful to Karl Adelheit.

"Ever since they awarded a human the Legion of Honor, the rank-and-file warriors inside Heigens have been raising their voices, haven't they? And thanks to that, the prestige of the elven houses keeps sliding."

"Those rank-and-file warriors are the ones who fought alongside the Imperial Army in the Luzens War. They know perfectly well that a war with our Empire offers them nothing. Add to that our overwhelming superiority in gunpowder and firearms. At this rate, they'll clean house from the inside on their own."

"Who would have thought Young Lord Karl receiving a single medal would produce an effect of this magnitude."

The elves themselves had almost certainly never imagined the situation would tangle itself this thoroughly. Awarding the Legion of Honor—and then watching a fallout of this size come roaring back. They had probably expected nothing more than a few houses whining about why a human had been given such a thing in the first place.

The turmoil inside Heigens had certainly swollen the Ministry's workload. But looking at how things were unfolding, it was all to the Empire's advantage. So—fine. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠They could live with it.

Next came the Bright Light Church, the largest religious body on the continent, bar none.

They worshipped the Goddess of Light and spread Her teachings so widely that the doctrine had become the most followed not only in the Empire, but in Lasquer and Abillesti—even among the elves.

In raw power, the Holy See was comparable to a Marquisate: the land it administered, the Paladin Orders stationed within it. But take a wider view, and the faithful scattered across the continent were their true territory, their true knights. They were not to be taken lightly. Even the Empire, should it ever make an enemy of the Church, would have to be prepared for one of the two to cease existing.

For that reason, the Empire devoted extraordinary care to its relationship with the Church. In the Empire's earliest days, designating the capital and its environs as the First Diocese and extending a hand to the Church had been part of that effort. So too was the continuous cultivation of each diocese and its cardinals.

Of course, the Church had taken the Empire's hand in return, matching what it had received. Whenever the Empire went to war, the Church had remained at least neutral—or else sided with the Empire outright, furnishing it with a righteous cause. The recent Luzens War had been a vivid demonstration of how much both sides stood to gain from the arrangement.

But as the saying goes, there are no eternal friends, and no eternal enemies.

The common foe, Luzens, had fallen. Those who had denied the Empire's order and blasphemed the doctrine of Light had been utterly defeated, and would soon vanish altogether. And so, even as others cried Long live the Empire, or hailed the victory of the Light, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had no choice but to worry.

If a rift opens with the Bright Light Church, what then? The war with Luzens is over. Neither the Empire nor the Church has any further need to use the other. This may be the most peaceful moment of all—and the moment that most demands preparation.

It was for that reason that they had been drawing up plan after plan to preserve the friendly relationship with the Bright Light Church.

This time, too, they had Karl Adelheit to thank—that young man, again.

They had recovered a sacred relic. He had gone south, and by the purest chance retrieved the Sword of Saint Louis. The investigation had confirmed it: genuine luck. He had had no such intention whatsoever. It had simply... come out.

And yet not a single soul paid any mind to Karl's insistence that he had "just been lucky."

Lucky? Was that supposed to be an explanation? If luck were all it took, would anyone who got lucky stumble onto a holy relic?

This was not fortune. It was, as the Church put it, love. He was clearly beloved of the gods. There was no other way to explain a sacred relic bursting out of a boulder he had split in two.

"A debt owed to our benefactor must, in the name of the Church, be repaid in full."

"We understand a pension foundation has been established in His Lordship's name. Henceforth, a portion of the tithes received by the Church shall be directed to that foundation."

"We have heard that many still suffer in the war's aftermath. We pledge to expand our medical facilities and children's shelters. In addition, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠priesthood of the Holy See itself shall go forth on missions of service."

In the very moment they had been agonizing over how to manage the relationship now that Luzens, the common enemy, was gone—Karl's recovery of the relic had rendered the whole dilemma a thing of the past. A non-event. Nothing to worry about at all.

At present, the Church had quite simply lost its mind over the recovery of the lost relic. They had begun using it to demonstrate that the miracles of the gods were real, and further, as a springboard to expand their influence even more. And at the origin of it all stood Karl—and the Empire. So the Church had been the first to extend its hand.

The Cardinal of the First Diocese traveling to Friedrich County; two cardinals bestowing their blessing upon Karl's greatsword; and beyond that, the invitation for Karl to visit the Holy See on the Feast of Saint Louis. The deepening of Empire-Church relations was almost a side benefit.

And was that the end of it? Not even close. Next came Lasquer's turn.

Here, at least, Karl's influence could be called relatively modest. At most, he had used a goodwill match—against the backdrop of a previously known internal problem in Lasquer—to make the Empire's displeasure known. And, while he was at it, to remind them that they still could not escape the nightmare that was Friedrich County.

Frankly, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had considered that more than enough. Karl already had so many points of contact with the elves and the Church; if one sprang up with Lasquer as well, the workload would become truly unmanageable. The results were good for the Empire. The problem was that their own desks were disappearing under the paper. So please, they had thought—please, just stay out of the next incident.

And then…

"Wait. Wait. What did you just say?"

The Foreign Minister recoiled, staring at his deputies as if they had grown second heads.

"One of the swords of the Twelve Knights who served Lasquer's founding king is currently in the possession of Young Lord Karl Adelheit."

"No. I mean. Why?"

"Before returning home from Lasquer, he received a gift. That sword, it turns out, was one of the blades of the Twelve Knights. Both nations are investigating as we speak, but it appears to be genuine."

The Foreign Minister let out a long, weary sigh. This was not supposed to happen. This was a genuine disaster, was it not?

What kind of nation was Lasquer? A country that staked its life on knighthood. A country that held honor above all else. And now a sword belonging to one of the founding king's Twelve Knights—the pinnacle of that knighthood, the pinnacle of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that honor—was sitting not in their own country, but in a foreign one?

The house that had given the gift was going to be in for a world of pain. The royal family would take its share of the abuse as well. They might even start screaming for it back and threaten war to get it.

"First—first, we need to propose to Young Lord Karl that he return the sword immediately—"

"About that. There is an additional report, sir."

Please tell me they haven't already declared war. Please. Lasquer. You miserable bastards. Even so, you were the ones who gave it as a gift. If you try to pin that on the Empire, you'll only…

"This is Lasquer's official position, received just now. The sword has merely found its rightful master. Until the day it is received with honor, in accordance with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rites of knighthood, they will make no further mention of the matter."

"…What?"

Had the entire lot of them in Lasquer been smoking something? Those maniacs who went insane over knighthood—giving up a sword of the Twelve Knights?

"They're not the type to fold that easily. Are you certain that's what came in?"

"Yes, Minister. Confirmed. It is their official position. There has been some talk inside Lasquer, of course, but once people learned which sword it was, the prevailing reaction has been to accept it."

Once they learned which sword it was, they accepted it? The Foreign Minister caught the scent of something underneath.

"Find out what sword it is. Which of the Twelve Knights wielded it. Be thorough. That's the only way we can take a stance that favors the Empire without sparking a diplomatic incident."

"Understood. We'll have a report on your desk within twenty-four hours."

And exactly seventeen hours later.

"Well, I'll be damned."

A sound of sheer incredulity escaped him as he turned the page.

The Minister, having read that far, tossed the report roughly onto his desk.

He no longer had any idea. Whether the young man was simply that lucky—or whether he truly was loved by the gods.