35. Darkly and Secretly
35. Darkly and Secretly
The Cervantes Barony.
If you asked the capital's nobles, or high-ranking nobles, whether they knew this barony, nine times out of ten you'd get this answer.
Don't talk about something only you understand.
That was exactly the level of their standing.
Not as poor as a fallen noble house, but poor for a landed noble house.
The territory wasn't exactly rural, but not enough to be called a city.
Not enough to openly scorn, but not enough to fear, either.
The barony, surprisingly, rather enjoyed that truly ambiguous position.
Too much attention relative to one's ability was bound to become poison.
This delicate standing—not caught up in power struggles, yet comfortable enough to live on—was the ultimate expression of the Cervantes Barony's talent for self-preservation.
Cain Cervantes had admonished his sons in exactly this manner.
A bird that soars too high in the sky is fated to be struck by lightning, so moderation is the best thing for a person.
As a result of his repeated pleas, the eldest became just the right level to inherit the family headship—no more, no less.
The second son also graduated from Hetairo Academy, became an archaeologist, and found himself a decent job.
And the third and youngest had comfortably passed the Hetairo Academy entrance exam, so all that remained was to retire in modest peace.
That was how it was supposed to go.
- Sage Cervantes!! When is Mari's next shoot?!
Until the youngest came home, having somehow become a bigger name than the count of the neighboring territory.
*
Power was the force of invisible expectations.
If someone believed another person could do something, that belief was already power.
Therefore, the hierarchy of power and a person's social rank did not always correspond.
Just as even a baron's child could, depending on the circumstances, become someone before whom a count had to bow.
Nikolai returned to his hometown and understood the meaning of Allen's warning.
The day after he arrived home—
No. The moment he saw the crowd that had begun waiting in front of the mansion from midnight of the very day he returned, he could feel the reality of his own influence.
A considerable portion of that crowd were fans, but among them were many with motives other than fandom.
Nobles trying to gain any sort of connection with Nikolai were the representative examples, and there were also many trading companies hoping for a bit of promotion, and women aiming to raise their social standing.
It couldn't be helped.
He was the Sage and Prophet of a wildly popular serial drama second in worldwide viewership only to Wrestle Kingdom, after all.
And the fact that he held both positions alone, without any assistant directors or co-writers, meant Nikolai was, for all practical purposes, the de facto ruler of Magical Girl Mari.
The one small mercy was that most random peddlers could be stopped at the garden wall of the Cervantes Barony.
And the unfortunate part was that a rank the barony's garden wall could not block—a count—had seen fit to visit this very place.
Thus, the first thing the count did after pushing through the crowd and entering the mansion was...
"I apologize! My city's gatekeepers let their tongues run in a tavern, and the matter swelled into this."
A full prostration by a man who was a count.
Nikolai was beyond bewildered.
A count was a noble of the upper echelon even within the empire.
Since dukes and marquises could not inherit their titles under imperial law, count was the highest hereditary noble rank.
And such a man was on his knees apologizing to Nikolai.
Nikolai was so alarmed he half wondered if this was some elaborate assassination scheme.
But to a third party, the count's behavior was utterly astute.
As I said, power was the belief that someone could do something.
If Nikolai took offense and, say, wrote the county's city into the script as a "Twilight Council stooge," the rumors among the nobles would not be terribly pleasant.
Conversely, if he depicted it as a "noble county that generously supported the magical girls," the count's standing in social circles would expand beyond all comparison to its current state.
At this once-in-a-lifetime crossroads, the count was more than willing to donate his knees, cheap as they were.
The fact that he had survived noble society meant he at least possessed such skill, and that he had maintained the rank of count for four generations meant his political instincts were functioning well.
Having thus brought the count to his knees, Nikolai barely managed to help him to his feet and implored him to go home.
"How could our house appear in a magical-girl production?"
"Ah. That isn't something I can decide alone."
"Are you not the Sage and Prophet?"
"That's true, but there are our sponsors, you see..."
As proof, Nikolai opened the jewel case Allen had handed him.
Inside, a jewel stamped with the Price family seal gleamed brilliantly.
"Th-Then...! Forget what I just said! I didn’t know the Guardian Duke was sponsoring it!"
"Ah, yes..."
And so the count fled the Cervantes mansion as if escaping.
Watching the count round up the crowd and retreat, Nikolai thought to himself:
So this was the true taste of power.
*
With great power comes great responsibility.
It wasn't long after the count departed that Nikolai grasped that meaning.
"...S-Son. What shall we do about mealtime, exactly...?"
His eldest brother and his father were afraid of him.
"Father. Sage Cervantes is writing the script for Mari's next episode. Aren't you disturbing him?"
"My apologies, Sage."
Up to this point, it was... not really bearable, but he could rationalize it as bearable.
The way his father and brother kept trying to worship him at every turn made him want to die of embarrassment, but still, praise was praise.
But what unfolded before his eyes after that...
It could only be called a sin.
"Son! This is the fashion Mari wore, it's all the rage. How do I look?"
"Niki, I have a date with my boyfriend tomorrow. Can you dress me up like Isis? He said he's an Isis fan."
Yes. This was a sin.
This had to be divine punishment for me, after I had laughed at the elf and the Disciplinary Committee member's humiliation.
Ahh.
I had spread sin throughout this world.
Only then did he realize.
The elf writhed in shame because she had to deliver those lines herself, but simply following the fashion was something any woman could do.
Rather, it could grow into a benchmark of trends.
In one corner of his mind surfaced the memory that when Moon Warrior had swept across Japan, the girls' skirts grew shorter and skirt fashion became all the rage.
Oh God.
I had sinned.
There was no tithe in this world, but I would gladly pay one to the church, so please forgive me.
Therefore, I begged the gods not to make me witness my mother brandishing a magic wand in front of the mirror.
"Dear, how do I look? Doesn't this make me seem younger?"
The head of the Cervantes family stared at Nikolai with dead fish eyes.
You clean up this mess.
Unfortunately, the situation had long since left Nikolai's hands.
Nikolai shook his head powerlessly.
Yes. This was a nightmare.
It had to be a nightmare.
...
And a few days later,
he was reciting a new prayer.
- Please... get that vile demon wearing my sister's skin and chanting Isis's transformation spell in front of the mirror out of my sight.
*
"Boss. When do I head up to the capital?"
In the end, he had resolved to escape from home.
He'd planned to stay home for about two weeks and spend time with his parents, but now he felt he'd be crushed by guilt and shame before living out his natural life unless he escaped as soon as possible.
But Allen's answer through the crystal was far too cruel to Nikolai.
"Ah, that. I'll head your way."
"Boss! No! I'll join you in the capital!"
"No, that's not it. There's something I need to do in that county, you see? So I'll come there."
"Ah..."
But Nikolai couldn't wait.
If he didn't escape this place at once, he would go mad first.
He racked his brain.
What possible reason could there be to leave this place?
That's it.
'I'd better go meet Allen.'
This was merely a part of professional life, a courtesy toward one's workplace superior, and a natural gesture born of sincerely respecting the Boss.
Rationalizing thus, he headed for the county Allen had mentioned.
*
Nikolai breathed in the air of a city for the first time in a long while.
A scent distinctly different from the small town he lived in.
It wasn't the acrid soot of his former life, but the dense mana floating in the air and the streets packed full of people made him feel keenly that this was a city.
He wandered the county and secured lodging near the teleport terminal where Allen would emerge.
Though four days remained until his arrival, as a subordinate who treasured his superior, he already found himself looking forward to their meeting.
Once again, it was not because his family embarrassed him.
Anyway, as Sage and Prophet, he was earning twice the salary of the other production staff.
He had money to burn, so he might as well recover physically and mentally at the hotel.
With such thoughts, he gazed down at the city's nightscape from the hotel's top floor.
It was so beautiful it was hard to put into words.
As he took in that sight, inspiration struck, and the moment he grabbed a pen to jot it down, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
Thinking, well, I've already turned into a proper Sage.
It was then, by chance, that Nikolai saw John emerging from the terminal.
A man in a suit, visible among the crowd.
The man blended so perfectly into the scenery that Nikolai observed him intently.
And though he hadn't noticed at first, for some reason, it was hard to make out the man's face.
After continuing to observe him half out of stubbornness, the moment he realized it was John Armstrong, he snapped his notebook shut at once.
Allen had come to the county.
And three days early at that, without any notice, in the guise of John.
Nikolai was not unaware of what that implied.
The darkness of the alley where Allen vanished made him feel keenly that this world was no paradise.