Good Changes, Bad Changes
"I will not accept a title."
The lord of this modest little fiefdom—and yet a man who was anything but modest—Baron Dagon John Nassen.
At his answer, the envoys who had come up from the Empire wore thoroughly awkward looks.
It had been decades since the last Meritorious Service Ceremony. There, John Nassen had received an imperial decoration.
Strictly speaking, it was Kyle, the youngest of the John Nassen line, who had received it—but he had stood as representative of the family as a whole.
After all, two others besides Kyle had distinguished themselves as well.
Kyle took the medal. He was already being called a hero of the Empire.
And John Nassen, too, deserved a reward to match.
So the Emperor had intended to grant them a higher peerage as a special favor.
For the moment a Margrave still held the frontier, so elevating them straight to a countship would have been awkward.
The plan, therefore, was to recall the Margrave in due course and then install John Nassen as a count house.
To dissolve a margraviate was to declare that the border no longer needed defending—which was also a declaration of complete trust in John Nassen and a decision to place them at the center of things.
And yet that same John Nassen was refusing the title. Awkwardness and outright bewilderment were inevitable.
"Baron John Nassen. The title is His Majesty the Emperor's way of expressing gratitude to both you and your house. If you decline it, His Majesty will be deeply disappointed."
"I already refused a countship at the first agreement. There is no reason to accept one now."
"But…"
"I will gladly accept the other gifts instead."
Baron John Nassen turned his gaze toward the three men and women standing nearby.
"You will send the Imperial 10 Strongest and other powerful fighters to John Nassen on a monthly cycle. That makes me far happier."
For the Empire it was excellent news that their strongest would not stagnate. For John Nassen it was excellent news that they could finally cross blades with powerhouses from outside the family.
They had never gone looking themselves—the travel time alone was too precious to waste. If these people promised to keep coming every month, there was nothing to dislike.
Members of the 10 Strongest had visited before, but never on any fixed schedule. This time they had secured a firm monthly pledge.
Crossing martial arts with those who poured blood and sweat into their craft was as joyful as training itself. Even if they were weaker, their effort was endearing and every drop of sweat precious.
"We'll be counting on you again, Baron John Nassen."
The first to speak was, of course, Fifth Princess Yulika.
Sparring with the strong—especially with John Nassen—was always a delight. As both a member of the 10 Strongest and a princess, she was used to people watching her every move. The people of John Nassen—Lia or Kyle, for example—had none of that. They simply traded blows and settled who was stronger, who fell first.
"Why am I even back here again…"
The man sighing beside her was, regrettably, Logan Stefan.
Last time he had accompanied Yulika and gone a proper round with the John Nassen folk—one of the 10 Strongest. He had begged to be left out this time. His plea had been ignored completely.
"Are there not still members of John Nassen you have yet to face?"
That single remark from the Emperor had left Logan with no choice but to head for John Nassen once more.
Uncannily enough, he really had only managed to spar a few of them last time before schedule forced him back to the capital. Even that had left him so exhausted he had slept like the dead for days. This time they had blocked out an entire week. He was ready to start chanting that he was already dead.
"Brother, why the funeral face? I'm looking forward to it!"
Standing next to Logan and cheerfully thumping his shoulder was a mountain of a man—Throde Schneider, said to possess the hardest body among the entire 10 Strongest.
He kept voicing how eager he was to spar the people of John Nassen, to train right alongside them, excitement pouring off him in waves.
You idiot. Just wait one day. You'll swallow those words so fast.
As if Logan himself had started out full of complaints? Absolutely not.
You did not become one of the Imperial 10 Strongest just by swinging a sword a bit, throwing a few punches, or having a sturdy frame. Every hour of your life had to be poured into your own strength. Training was neither optional nor compulsory—it simply had to be as natural as breathing. Only then did you possess martial might worthy of the title.
That was why none of the 10 Strongest regarded ordinary training as training at all. People asked how anyone could swing a sword tens of thousands of times; the 10 Strongest simply did it. They always had. No one among them found it hard or tried to avoid it.
And even so—damn it—John Nassen is on another level entirely!
Even for the 10 Strongest, for whom training was as natural as breath, this was too much. There were supposed to be limits, and John Nassen's limits sat far ahead of everyone else's. They did not rest when rest was obvious. They did not quit when quitting was obvious.
Logan shook his head as he watched Throde laugh with pure delight. Yulika could endure it only because she had always been a little strange to begin with. Throde, who was basically the same as Logan, would last a day—two at the absolute most.
"Baron John Nassen. Allow me to say it once more. The title is…"
The man appointed as imperial special envoy tried again in a pleading tone. He had been told not to force it if it was refused, yet this was still the Emperor's will. Accepting it would be better for everyone—for the Emperor, for John Nassen, and for the envoy himself!
"You look rather frail."
The answer that came back was nothing he had expected.
"Go run around a bit with the children of the domain. It might do you some good."
In other words: if the conversation is going nowhere, go take care of your own body. And while you're at it, I'll teach you a little exercise—give it a try.
Baron John Nassen was, in his own way, looking out for the Emperor's special envoy.
That man is as good as dead already.
To Logan's eyes, of course, the poor ordinary fellow was simply about to be tormented.
"Is persuasion truly impossible?"
One worry that had been seriously occupying Kyle's mind of late:
He was starting to lose track of whether he was an Academy student or a civil servant.
Why did ministers keep showing up or contacting him? He had nothing whatsoever to do with imperial bureaucracy, yet they appeared the moment he started to forget them.
And today it was not even the Minister of Education, who had somehow become a neighborhood uncle. It was the Minister of Internal Affairs, a man he had met exactly once before.
"I'm sorry, Minister. Once Father has made up his mind, no one except Mother can change it. No matter what I do, he will not accept the title."
The promotion Grand Duke Schrelitz had mentioned in passing last time. Kyle had shown zero reaction to the idea.
To other nobles, a promotion in rank was the ultimate prize. Discussion of it was impossible without truly monumental merit. If promotions came easily, the Empire would eventually be crawling with nothing but counts and marquises.
But John Nassen was different from every other noble house. Vastly different.
They had accepted a title only because becoming nobles left them no choice. Word was that the original offer had been a countship, not a barony. The people of the day—today's John Nassen—had waved it off, saying a title was unnecessary, and so it had ended as a barony.
"Father is already satisfied with the guarantee that the 10 Strongest and other powerhouses will come to John Nassen on a fixed monthly cycle. He'll take that as the imperial house treating John Nassen with the highest regard."
"Is that truly enough?"
"Yes. For the folks back home who rarely leave the domain, nothing could make them happier."
John Nassen people had developed the habit of grumbling about muscle loss no matter where they went. They still hauled bars, plates, dumbbells, and kettlebells with them everywhere—and still complained. Anything beyond those tools, they claimed, left other body parts without progressive overload.
"If that is truly the case, it is a relief… and yet it still feels off. His Majesty personally offered the title, and they have declined it twice. This time the merit is unmistakable."
"How about this, then? We say that accepting a countship might strain relations with the Margrave we have been close to, and so we are content with our present station."
"That would serve as an even clearer reason for avoiding friction with the Empire."
Over the magic communication, the Minister of Internal Affairs said nothing further about the promotion. Honestly, contacting Kyle at all had been pure wishful thinking. He had never expected the young man to produce some decisive move that would reverse Baron John Nassen's heart.
"In any case, thank you. I contacted you out of the blue, and you still came."
Of course he had come. He had been walking down the corridor when a pack of black-clad men arrived to "escort" him again.
At this point he was genuinely confused whether the headmaster's office existed for the headmaster or simply as a public meeting plaza. The headmaster himself had begun seriously considering creating a separate rendezvous room just for ministers and Kyle.
Lucky break. I was already a little late for the appointment, and now I've got a perfect excuse.
Why did his professor always have to run every lecture ten minutes over? Thanks to that, he was already late for the café meeting with Elga. Then the Minister of Internal Affairs had summoned him on top of it. A proper, thorough late arrival.
"You're late."
When Kyle stepped into the café, Elga was sitting there wearing a faintly sulky expression.
She seemed to have been waiting a while, yet there was not a single cup in front of her—she had clearly held off ordering until he arrived.
"I'm sorry, Lady Elga. The lecture ran long, and then something else came up."
"What something else?"
"The Minister of Internal Affairs contacted me out of nowhere."
"…Kyle. Are you an imperial civil servant?"
"No. I'm not. Though these days I'm starting to wonder myself."
Honestly, collecting a civil servant's salary would not feel wrong at this point. He was not one, yet he was more civil-servant-like than most actual civil servants. What student got hauled off to meet ministers at all hours?
"Kyle."
Just as he was sipping the tea he had ordered and wondering what to talk about, Elga—who had been watching his face carefully—quietly began.
"Do you happen to have any plans this weekend?"
"Nothing major this weekend. Though in the afternoon I promised to watch over the Saintess's training, and in the evening Nel's training. After that I need to train myself as well."
"Meaning you have free time from morning until the afternoon?"
"That's right."
"Good."
She already knew perfectly well how serious Kyle was about training. That made it even better. If she had tried to schedule something for the afternoon, he would have refused on the spot.
"Could you spare some time from the morning through lunch?"
"If it's not too forward of me, I'd like to know what this is about."
"Didn't I mention it last time?"
Last time? She had mentioned something last time? Mentioned what?
Kyle tilted his head, clearly failing to remember. Elga let out a small sigh and refreshed his memory.
"The Grand Duke of Litorio."
"…Ah."
"My father would like to meet you."