Lessons Behind the Mask
Lessons Behind the Mask
A month after the Birthday Banquet, my engagement to Narea von Rosencavalier was finalized.
Now, another month has passed since then.
The atmosphere in the imperial palace had subtly shifted.
The eyes of the escort knights and maids who were always near me began to carry not just surveillance aimed at me, but also a vague sense of wariness toward the wild beasts unleashed by the Gateway Grand Duke.
For now, things were going according to plan.
After all, I had used myself as a sacrifice to throw a massive boulder named the Gateway Grand Duke into the quiet lake named the Lord Protector.
I thought he would act as a shield to some extent, but it was far beyond what I had anticipated.
On top of that, starting today, I was finally able to receive proper education.
This was something to be genuinely pleased about.
Until turning ten years old, the closest thing I had received to an education was the Lord Protector saying, "In situations like this, you just need to say this."
Thus, I knew nothing.
Not the geography of this country, nor its history, nor which nobles existed, nor what the current situation was.
That was why I rejoiced in the education itself, but I could not forget that this was ultimately borrowed strength—and by no means invincibility.
"Your Majesty, we have arrived."
"Ugh... I don't want to do stuff like this......"
"It is an order from His Grace the Lord Protector."
That's right. The reason I was able to receive an education like this was very simple.
Having put on such a disgraceful display right in front of the Lord Protector—no, in front of all the assembled nobles—there was no way the Lord Protector, responsible for my upbringing, could let it slide without doing anything.
The actions I took returned to me in a form that yielded benefits. It was a most desirable situation, one I had never experienced until now.
However, there were a few things that differed slightly from what I had envisioned.
"Your Majesty. There is tension in your shoulders. Lower them further. Your Majesty's shoulders do not belong to you alone. They are the horizon upon which the empire gazes."
First period was court etiquette class. Countess Claremont sharply tapped my shoulder with the tip of her fan. She was a political watcher and educator assigned to my side by the Gateway Grand Duke.
"Your Majesty. Bowing one's head is courtesy. However, collapsing is submission. Your Majesty may show courtesy, but you must never submit."
This time, the chilly tip of the fan lightly touched beneath my chin.
Whether due to the Gateway Grand Duke's orders or the Lord Protector's pressure, she seemed quite enthusiastic about instructing me.
Seeing how she pointed out every single mistake I made, it certainly appeared that way.
Nor was she making up flaws just for the sake of pointing them out.
"......."
Because Narea, her eyes filled to the brim with disgust and contempt, was demonstrating first in front of me, and I was merely following her example.
Even to my eyes, she was flawless, while I went without saying.
To the point where one wouldn't think she was three or four years younger than my ten-year-old self, her movements appeared beautiful even to my ignorant eyes.
However, as she was still a child after all, Countess Claremont unhesitatingly called out the facial expressions she failed to hide.
Of course, if I was corrected ten times, she was only called out once or twice.
I didn't complain much during the court etiquette class.
It was an act of a boy showing off in front of a pretty girl.
In order to memorize court etiquette and protocol—which were missing from my knowledge—I needed a reason to appear eager to learn. Thus, even while enduring Narea's passionate glares of hatred, I was able to diligently master court etiquette.
Once the class ended, I had to move on to another lesson.
While I was putting on an act of expressing dislike only to instantly crumble at the single line, "It is an order from His Grace the Lord Protector," Narea stepped outside slightly behind me.
...Would it be weirder not to say anything here?
"Narea! Are you going to your next class too!?"
The moment I called her name, Narea shuddered slightly as if maggots were crawling all over her body, looking back at me with her raw, unhidden emotions reflecting clearly in her eyes.
"...No. I am going to pay my respects to Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Dowager. After that, I will return to the Grand Ducal Residence."
......The Empress Dowager, my omma.
Ever since that Birthday Banquet, it had become difficult for me to see my omma.
Where before I could see her whenever I wanted, after these lessons were established, the time I was permitted to see my omma was restricted by the Lord Protector to just once a day, and only for a brief moment at that.
The Lord Protector was on guard.
He was wary of my omma and me meeting—or more accurately, wary of my omma meeting someone else.
He was likely guarding against my maternal grandfather, the Southern Sea Grand Duke.
"Is that so?! I'm going to see Omma soon too! Shall we go together?!"
"No, it is fine. Please do not mind me."
As if she had heard something she should never have heard, Narea spewed out her words like a rapid-fire machine gun without waiting a single moment, telling me not to say such nonsense. She then promptly bowed her head and briskly turned her back on me, walking away.
Narea von Rosencavalier. That child is a pitiful one as well.
For my own survival, I stripped away everything from that child. Breaking the engagement is unthinkable under these circumstances, and even if she wanted to, it would never be accepted.
It is no exaggeration to say her life was destroyed because of me. I do feel sorry. But I also feel it couldn't be helped.
And above all, as long as Narea despises me, the Lord Protector will not try to change this situation.
Because if she were to truly love me and genuinely support me, it wouldn't be a good thing from the Lord Protector's perspective.
Well, judging by the current situation, there's absolutely zero chance of that happening anyway.
Grumbling to myself, I huffed, turned my body around, and gestured with my chin to the maid before heading toward my next lesson.
The next lesson was history. An old count whose face I had seen several times at the imperial council—an unmistakable member of the Lord Protector's faction—had unfolded a giant map.
In order to gather as much information as possible, I assumed an attitude of keen interest in the lesson, unbefitting a child.
However, contrary to my expectations, this man skipped all of the empire's history and geography and abruptly brought up something called the '40-Year War'.
"Your Majesty, this country stands upon the blood of His Grace the Lord Protector. The 40-Year War, which came to an end before Your Majesty was born, is precisely that."
His voice was boring, but the contents were not something to be brushed off.
The 40-Year War.
Because that was the very reason the current Lord Protector gained the support of numerous nobles and countless citizens, elevating him to his current position.
The 40-Year War he spoke of was a textbook example of victors' history.
The Norden Kingdom to the north invaded first, and as the empire was pushed back, the then 15-year-old Lord Protector appeared like a hero, turned the tides of war, and reclaimed all lost territory.
During the peace talks, Norden committed treason by assassinating the First Prince, and an enraged Lord Protector subjugated the kingdom to secure vast concessions?
I was not naïve enough to take at face value a story claiming the empire was blameless and the kingdom was responsible for everything.
Of course, I was smiling outwardly.
Because I was putting on the act of a young child listening to stories about his beloved Lord Protector.
In fact, I even clapped my hands in delight.
And thanks to that, I was able to memorize the map while listening to the story.
A large map unfolded right in the middle of the classroom's blackboard.
The giant, fine-grained vellum parchment map, stretched taut, intricately carved the shape of the empire upon pale, milky hide that bore the marks of time.
The vast oceans to the west and south. The continent stretching to the east and north.
Finally, it was the overall picture of the empire that I saw for the very first time.
Though territories weren't divided explicitly, the Grand Duchies at least were clearly marked.
I drew invisible lines across the map.
The roads leading from each domain in the east, west, south, and north to the Imperial Capital.
The eastern and northern regions can reach the Imperial Capital unimpeded. The north is closer. If something happens, the northern forces would be the quickest to arrive.
The western and southern regions were different.
A massive mountain range stretching from the south to the center, and a mountain range blocking part of the west.
Between those mountain ranges, at the exact point where the lines from the west and south first meet. There is a location one must pass through to reach the Imperial Capital from those two regions.
This wasn't merely a bottleneck one had to stop by.
What mattered was that these two domains—the Western Sea Grand Duchy and the Southern Sea Grand Duchy—were connected to the sea.
In any era, a region connected to the sea signified only one thing.
Trade.
Maritime trade in this era was a ruthless gambling den for those who melted silver to craft blood and forged hearts out of gold.
The overland route needed to transport the money earned from that trade to the Imperial Capital was blocked by mountain ranges, leaving only a single path.
As for water routes, the river flowing south from the Imperial Capital could not be used due to gorges halfway through, and the river flowing west did not reach the Imperial Capital in the first place.
Whether by land or water, one inevitably had to pass through that single location.
The place where all the wealth of the empire converged.
Therefore, the Gateway.
......So that was what the Gateway Grand Duke meant!
While I was desperately memorizing the map of the empire and shuddering at its significance, the history class came to an end.
Leaving behind my regret, I had no choice but to step outside the classroom.
Next was magic class.
This man was also a noble belonging to the Lord Protector's faction whom I had seen a few times at imperial council meetings—in a word, a quintessential noble mage himself.
Unlike other classes, magic could not be used within the imperial palace, so he simply gave a brief overview of how future lessons would be conducted and wrapped up.
Thus all lessons concluded, and three days passed.
During that time, I hadn't taken only the same classes. However, the absence of the most critical subjects—administration, politics, military science, and diplomacy—revealed a transparent intention.
Today's class was even mathematics.
It seemed they thought that even if they didn't teach me about finance, being unable to do basic arithmetic would be problematic.
Thinking that, I entered the classroom to find a man looking at me with a haggard face.
"I am Count Andrew Bartolomeo."
Unlike the other teachers, a self-introduction completely devoid of embellishment.
"The period allotted to me is one month. It was the maximum time someone outside the Lord Protector's faction could receive."
Words different from the other teachers.
"The Lord Protector stated that it would suffice if Your Majesty could master basic arithmetic during this time, but I wonder..."
Those eyes were staring intently at me.
"Then, let us begin."
While he proceeded with the lesson normally, his eyes alone burned with intense fervency as he watched me.
Reading that desperate gaze, I formed a plan.
And when the lessons entered their second week, I purposely displayed mistakes during the court etiquette and protocol classes.
After slacking off during class and glancing nervously at the maids and escort knights, I went to the Lord Protector and threw a tantrum, demanding that maids and knights be banned from entering during lessons.
For my part, I wanted to minimize watching eyes as much as possible.
Perhaps thinking there was no need to crush the Emperor's spirit entirely, the Lord Protector readily granted my childish demand.
From then on, with the exception of court etiquette, classes were conducted one-on-one without maids or escort knights present in the classroom.
The person whose reaction changed most drastically because of this was the math teacher.
While his face remained cold like a withered leaf in autumn and his voice dripped with boredom, he began to exhibit a restless agitation, as though pressed for time and deeply anxious.
Unlike the teachers of the Lord Protector's faction, he did not half-heartedly teach while openly praising the Lord Protector, nor did he send me gaze filled with occasional compassion beneath a sharp expression like Countess Claremont.
He simply carried out the prescribed lessons as scheduled, all the while directing at me glances of unreadable significance.
His words about not belonging to the Lord Protector's faction, and his statement that he had been granted only one month.
Considering that, I conjectured that if I failed to achieve any progress within this month, he would be stripped of his position as my teacher.
Nevertheless, up until around the third week, I did not take any action beyond clearing the room of onlookers.
I didn't drop my act, nor did I make any gestures or obvious moves.
I thoroughly maintained the guise of a fool struggling with simple math.
I fumbled with my fingers, miscalculated sums, and threw foolish, spittle-flying tantrums.
I was continuously doubting him.
I needed to verify whether the zeal in his eyes and the anxiety he felt with each passing week were directed toward me or toward the Lord Protector.
And then, time passed, bringing the final day of the one month promised by the Lord Protector.
The day of the final lesson dawned.
As usual, when I opened the door and entered the classroom, Count Bartolomeo stood inside the room where dim light trickled through the window bars.
However, his face was not the same face as last week.
The cynical muscles of his face twitched violently from extreme tension, and the chalk gripped in his hand trembled so hard it looked ready to crumble before even touching the blackboard.
Once he confirmed the door was closed, it was immediately obvious that he intended to speak of something other than the usual addition and subtraction.
Watching him, I walked over to my seat, sat down, and nonchalantly began scribbling something on paper.
"Your Majesty......."
It was a voice akin to the suppressed groan of a beast.
Count Bartolomeo roughly cleared his throat, closed his eyes tightly, and opened them.
And then, without caring in the slightest about me sitting there writing on paper, he opened his mouth.
"I know that opening my mouth like this is a matter that will sever not only my neck, but the necks of my entire house. However, as one who received the grace of the late Emperor, the heart of this nation......"
Just as he was opening his mouth at the cost of carving out his own flesh to convey something to me—
I opened my mouth.