The Price of Trust
The elementary educational institution I had established upon taking up my post at the duchy was, from the very start, nothing more than a trial phase.
Because of that, the people within the duchy were hardly rushing to enroll their children.
In truth, compared to the size of the building itself, the number of students was embarrassingly meager.
Word had it that the teachers were the wife of a noble house and a retired imperial official — and people worried, perhaps not unreasonably, that their children might be dealt with harshly. Despite the publicity I'd put some effort into, that anxiety kept enrollment from picking up any real speed.
……Not that I could blame them. Under a caste system, the nobility stood as a symbol of oppression that commoners had no hope of resisting.
Footsteps.
Even so, watching the warm, lively atmosphere inside the classroom where lessons were underway, I had to admit that Lapis's judgment had been sound. With a faint smile on my lips, I turned back the way I came.
Far from shrinking, the stack of matters demanding my attention had only grown, and I was busier than ever.
Chief among them was the report I'd received by letter the moment goods made with the Permanent Magic Stone hit the market: a subtle friction had already begun to stir between the Empire and the Allied Kingdoms.
Noble against noble.
Not royalty against royalty, but commoner against commoner.
It wasn't intentional, but the current was flowing exactly where it could.
The opening lines of the letter described how the people of the Empire had begun calling for the removal of the Demonic Tree entirely on their own initiative. It made sense, in a way — people who had lived with the unspoken dread that their whole lives might turn to ash and vanish overnight had now seen a magic stone that never depleted with their own eyes. Acting on the letter's contents was hardly irrational.
But from the Allied Kingdoms' perspective, it was unthinkable. According to the letter, friction was flaring with grim regularity even in the jurisdictions where the two peoples lived intermingled — the Free Trade City being the easiest example. Most of the people there made their living in commerce; how could they possibly fail to imagine the reality that would follow if those demands came true?
The goods were born from the hands of a prince of the Empire. Naturally, they would conclude that the Empire intended to monopolize the distribution of Permanent Magic Stones and shatter the balance of power between itself and the Allied Kingdoms.
And it wasn't merely a matter of power tilting out of true.
Artifacts had seeped into every corner of daily life, providing convenience as the very hallmark of this world's civilization. I had no intention of acting on their fears — but if I truly steered things the way they imagined, the Allied Kingdoms would become little more than a vassal state of the Empire.
And a vassal state separated by a gap in civilization equivalent to several generations' worth of progress.
Then, at the very bottom of the letter, came my father's message: come down to the capital.
Wasn't that a hint that this had ceased to be a matter between the Empire's people and the Allied Kingdoms' people, and was already swelling into something far larger? Handled well, a summit between the Empire and the Allied Kingdoms might convene far sooner than anyone expected.
No — a date may already have been set, and I might be summoned to the imperial palace any day now.
But the passage at the end of the letter that made my brow furrow was not that one.
"So the reason Father called for me too — it really is a political marriage, then."
"……"
One day before we were to descend to the capital, Aria voiced the very assumption I'd been hoping to avoid. She was no fool; given the clues she'd been handed, piecing together the situation had been easy enough.
"If that's truly the case, I'll handle it myself. So don't worry."
"A summit held on the eve of the Demonic Tree's revival. You're not planning to strong-arm your way through this, are you?"
"I know my position. I won't lash out recklessly."
A shared future for any of us was something we could only dream of after halting the Demon King's army that would rise with the Demonic Tree's full bloom. To let national friction fester while leaving that premise hanging was like flipping the table before the meal had even been set.
Aria knew that too — which was why, for once, she wasn't needling me with her usual manufactured jealousy, and instead wore a grave expression.
After seeing Aria off with a wry smile, I spent the next day handing over my duties to the official who had arrived to administer the territory in my absence, and descended to the capital.
Perhaps Lapis sensed the strangely taut atmosphere as well. She kept stealing glances between me and Aria, and looking at her was almost pitiable — so I took her soft hands in mine and squeezed them gently.
The bait I'd scattered in the hopes that the Allied Kingdoms would swallow it had indeed worked — I just hadn't expected the bite to come this quickly. My original plan had been to marry Lapis, spread the illness, establish the new religion on firm footing, and only then make my move.
Should I call this good fortune, then……?
Well, we had saved a fair amount of time, so if this counted as a boon, then a boon it was. It was just that one tangled detail within it didn't sit right with me.
And so, having descended to the capital and entered the imperial palace, I heard exactly what I'd expected: a summit with the Allied Kingdoms had been arranged.
At the same time, word came from my spies planted within the Allied Kingdoms that a political marriage might be raised.
……
It was a small comfort that the Empire hadn't been the first to broach the subject……
No. Could I even call it a comfort? Given that Father had insisted Aria come along as well, he and his vassals were clearly considering it in earnest.
Well……
His vassals aside, Father might genuinely have thought that living in the Allied Kingdoms would be better for Aria than staying in an Empire that had branded her the daughter of a traitor, drawing nothing but cold stares.
"You must be exhausted — I've kept you too long. Go and rest for now."
At my father's word, I nodded and returned to my chambers without even paying a visit to my mother, sinking into my bed.
Rustle.
"……"
The fatigue of a carriage ride was long since beyond the range of what this body could feel.
Perhaps that was why.
It was a night sleep would not come near me at all.
Eleven days later, the summit with the Allied Kingdoms quietly commenced.
Given how long the journey should have taken, their early arrival alone was proof of how swiftly they had rushed north. Even that much told us how hard-pressed they were — and so the expressions of the imperial delegates seated across the table were noticeably relaxed.
……Which kingdom's royalty, I wonder.
Across from us, not only a prince but a princess was seated at the table as well. They belonged to one of the kingdoms within the Allied Kingdoms, but I couldn't get a feel for which. I knew the names well enough, but I'd never seen them in person.
One thing, however, was plainly clear: talk of a political marriage would be passed back and forth in this room.
"Allow me to begin by offering our thanks for granting our request."
"I am not so ill-tempered an emperor that a gesture this small earns my gratitude."
He might have received them more warmly, but perhaps he intended to seize the initiative — Father's answer blended arrogance and gravity in equal measure.
"……Forgive me. Then, since deflecting would hardly be courteous, let us move to the substance of the matter."
The first issue the Allied Kingdoms raised was the present conflict brewing between the two peoples. What I'd received by letter back then had apparently been compressed into rather bland summary — the reality was said to be far more overheated. The Academy, too, had been deeply affected by the fallout, with reports of intensifying disputes among students and no shortage of complaints.
"Therefore, the Allied Kingdoms are prepared to pay a fitting price. What we desire is a guaranteed promise of distribution rights over the Permanent Magic Stone. If Your Majesty has no intention of granting it, then we ask that you make a formal declaration that you will not lend a hand in removing the Demonic Tree."
Up to this point, the shape of things had been easy enough to foresee. The real problem was the token of trust that would underpin such a promise.
Permanent Magic Stones could only be born from my hands. No one could place their faith in a cleanly signed contract alone.
And with good reason: once the revived Demon King's army was destroyed and the Demonic Tree successfully removed, if the Empire simply chose to ignore that contract, the consequences would be staggering. Even if it meant war, the Allied Kingdoms would surely believe the Empire could absorb the cost.
Because a generational gap in civilization was a divide between nations.
A gulf that could never be bridged.
And so, a marriage between imperial and royal bloodlines as the token of that trust…… even a child could arrive at that conclusion.
"Then let us draft the contract here and now and make the announcement official."
And yet, even knowing all this, the minister at my father's side raised the matter of principle first. Behind it lay a simple calculation: there was no need for this side to speak the words first.
"The bitterness between the Allied Kingdoms and the Empire is a wound history itself has carved. Is it not unreasonable to collateralize trust so broken and so warped with a single sheet of paper? What we desire, therefore, is a marriage between Prince Rohen and the princess seated here before us."
"This is absurd—!"
That they would seek to bind me — the sole origin of the Permanent Magic Stone itself — to a princess came as no surprise at all. Both the Empire and the Allied Kingdoms truly believed the power of my Voice to be the Dragon Tongue recorded in their legends; surely they assumed the gift ran in the blood.
"Is Your Excellency unaware of the long-standing custom of the imperial house? The Bertian dynasty has, wherever possible, refused to take concubines precisely so that wars of succession never stain the throne with blood. Moreover, Prince Rohen and Princess Lapis have not yet even held their wedding. And already you presume to speak of this?"
Watching my father's minister shamelessly fabricate words that did not exist, I thought him truly ruthless. If anyone dug too deeply into that argument, it would lead straight to the execution of Aria's mother, the former Empress — a matter even the Allied Kingdoms would find difficult to touch carelessly.
"……Honestly, it was not a demand we placed great hope in."
"I find the practice of thrusting at a persimmon one cannot eat rather distasteful."
My father clicked his tongue and let out a sigh. I stole a glance sideways; Lapis's expression did not look particularly good either.
"In that case, how would you regard a marriage through Princess Aria instead?"
"Hmm."
Whether the Allied Kingdoms or the Empire — this was, from the start, the arrangement both sides had been considering.
I curled my fist tight beneath the table.
"We hear that the Second Prince of the Asbaroc Kingdom seated there and the Third Princess of the Ludelia Kingdom share an exceptionally close bond. Should you intend a betrothal with Princess Aria, then it would be safe to assume the feelings between those two will have been cleanly settled first, would it not?"
This was something I had not been informed of in advance.
"Naturally. Should this proposal come to pass, Luvia will wed Veronica, the eldest son of a duke of the Asbaroc Kingdom. As a student of the Academy's Knight Faculty, Prince Rohen surely knows his face as well."
Our first meeting had hardly been pleasant, so I remembered it with perfect clarity.
"Understood. Then grant us time to deliberate."
"Then we shall meet again in this room, two days hence."
Two days.
A short span of time. But they could hardly leave state affairs unattended for long, so I judged it fair.
Thus the first round of talks concluded, and as we rose from our seats, Aria was called away by my father and the assembled ministers. I forced down my gnawing anxiety and waited.
"Anyone watching would think I'd been chosen as a live sacrifice."
"……"
Aria came to meet me, tossing out a joke as hollow as any she'd ever made.
"We both knew what I'd be told in there, and I'm hardly in a position to throw a tantrum over it."
"I see. I suppose not."
It was a moment where a few words could have sufficed — but I answered anyway, deliberately lending my words the weight of the Voice.
"If I pursued my own selfish desires, and the cooperation between our nations crumbled right before the Demonic Tree's revival and we lost…… the thought alone leaves me unable to say a word."
"……"
"Rather than seizing what we can't reach yet, it's better to reach the future first — and struggle over it then. That's what I keep telling myself."
"That's enough for me."
"What?"
"That's enough. Truly."
Hearing her words, I gave a faint smile and turned away from her.
"Solving this is my task. Don't waste your worry. And…… that isn't the selfish desire of a single girl named Aria."
"……"
"I carry the very same desire."
With those words, I strode out into the street where darkness had settled, and spoke.
"Night Parade of a Hundred Demons."
White mist spread outward in every direction.
Trailing silently behind my footsteps, four yokai emerged from it, their footfalls muffled against the night.
Miho.
Mongma.
Caym.
Dullahan.
I had no intention of doing anything so brutish as overturning the summit itself.
But they had said it themselves — that the Second Prince of the Asbaroc Kingdom and the Third Princess of the Ludelia Kingdom, seated so cozily at his side, shared an exceptionally close bond.
Then there was nothing to do but put that to use.