Inevitability Disguised as Coincidence
“Haaah.”
Mathieu exhaled a heavy sigh as he stepped out of the Imperial Palace.
The Empire’s days-long schedule of events had finally drawn to an official close. He had laid bare every misstep of the Coalition and every buried anxiety as well. Thanks to that, the Coalition would never again be able to defy the Empire.
Did I do the right thing?
Of course he hadn’t. There was no way he had. In the end he had bowed his own head to the Empire, shattering the will of a Coalition of kingdoms that had fought the Empire for so long and resisted to the last. Guilt gnawed at him, yet for some reason a quiet sense of relief still settled in his chest.
At least I won’t have to worry about being called a traitor when I go back.
The hard-liners who would have said such things had either been arrested or fled south. Those who remained were the moderates, ready to cooperate with the Empire for the sake of the Coalition’s survival. For the first time in ages, the Coalition’s internal opinions had actually aligned.
It was ironic. Those men had fought, each in their own way, for the Coalition’s prosperity—yet once they were gone, the Coalition was safer than before. If they ever heard that, they would foam at the mouth.
The atmosphere in the Empire isn’t exactly friendly either.
Word of the Coalition’s circumstances had, somehow, already filtered through imperial noble society. Even with the official schedule finished, not a single person had requested a private meeting. As an individual it was a relief; as the Coalition’s representative it was a misfortune.
With nothing left to do, Mathieu had been about to return to the Coalition when two unexpected visitors— a man and a woman—arrived at his lodging. The moment he confirmed their identities, his expression went blank with shock.
“Would you mind repeating that? You said you came from…?”
“I said we came from Litorio, Sir Mathieu Philibert.”
Litorio. That Litorio—one of only three Grand Duchies in the entire Empire, houses that wielded power second only to the Imperial Family itself.
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Elga Bless de Litorio.”
And she was no mere messenger. She was the young lady of a Grand Ducal house, arriving in quiet person with only a single escort.
…A trap?
He wondered whether the Empire had laid some snare. Yet no matter how carefully he looked, he could sense nothing that suggested one. Besides, if it were a trap, the bait was far too extravagant.
“I hear this is your first time in the Empire. How have you found it? Your impressions of the capital?”
“…A beautiful and powerful place.”
“I’m glad. I’ve heard the Coalition is both strong and beautiful as well. It seems we’re not so different.”
With that, Elga sat down without waiting to be invited. She might be the young lady of a Grand Duchy, but that was all she was. Opposite her sat the Coalition’s representative—one of the Three Heroes, said to rival the Empire’s Ten Strongest. By any measure this was not a situation that allowed her to lounge at ease.
“Your official schedule is finished, isn’t it? That’s why I made a point of coming now.”
Yet Elga showed not a shred of tension. Even Leto beside her simply kept silent. In the past he would have been fretting and shifting his feet, asking why she was doing this.
“…I am curious what brings you here so suddenly. No one else has sought me out.”
“I have a question. Kyle mentioned that certain unsavory elements of the Coalition headed south.”
In that instant Mathieu’s entire body jolted. The look that crossed his face was far too tense for a man called one of the Three Heroes.
“Lady Elga. This Kyle you just mentioned—could he be…?”
“You already know. The second son of House John Nassen. Kyle. We’re in the same year at the Academy. We’re rather close, actually.”
“….”
At Elga’s answer Mathieu’s mind began to spin at a frantic pace. The young lady seated before him was clearly very close to Kyle. The fact that she had heard the story from him and come straight here said as much. If they were mere acquaintances who brushed past each other, they would never have held a serious conversation.
…Hold on. When a man and a woman are closer than ordinary friends, there’s usually only one answer.
Mathieu Philibert was a more rigid man than most people realized. From Elga’s perspective she had simply meant they were on good terms. To his ears, however, it sounded like something far more intimate—something deeper. As if she were saying she and Kyle were practically engaged.
Engaged to Kyle John Nassen. Kyle John Nassen’s woman…
He swallowed hard.
He felt more tense than he had before the Emperor. Cold sweat ran down his spine. He had heard that there were two things a man would fight to the death to protect: his pride, and his woman.
He remembered Kyle smiling even on the brink of a life-or-death duel. He remembered the Kyle he had met in the palace not long ago—more terrifying than any demon. Once those images finished filing past, exactly what he needed to do became crystal clear.
“Fortunately I happen to have a few contacts in the south. I’d like to reach out and gather some suitable information, so if Sir Mathieu has the time, I was hoping you might share the details—”
“Ask me anything. I will tell you everything I know. I will cooperate fully.”
“…Eh?”
She had planned to ease into a more comfortable conversation and draw out far more. That was why she had deliberately brought up how well she got along with Kyle. She glanced at Leto, hoping he might have some idea what was going on, but of course he didn’t. When Leto merely shrugged, Elga thought for a moment, then decided it didn’t matter and smiled.
“Very well, Sir Mathieu. How far had we gotten?”
“A portion of the Coalition hard-liners used ships to head south. After tracking their route…”
From there Mathieu’s explanation grew extremely detailed—almost to the level of a report given before the Emperor himself. Thanks to that, Elga managed to snag a genuine prize.
The islands of the southern independent lords, the place the Coalition hard-liners were believed to have fled. Naturally they would have gone to those who already nursed poor relations with the Empire, intending to vent their unfinished rage against it. Not every southern independent lord, however, stood opposed to the Empire. A few maintained clear ties of friendship.
I never imagined I’d be able to make use of them like this.
Among them were places whose relations Elga herself had once worked to improve.
Freshman Academic Field Trip Guide
“….”
What the hell is this supposed to be? The words rose unbidden.
An academic field trip? Since when? He had never heard of anything like it.
“Lord Kyle! Ah—were you looking at the academic field-trip itinerary?”
“Nell. What is this? They had something like this?”
“You didn’t know? The academic field trip is an event limited to first-years. For two weeks we visit regions considered important in Imperial history.”
“Two weeks seems short, doesn’t it, Nell? Travel alone would take about that long.”
“As I understand it, the Academy will specially provide teleportation magic for the journey.”
“….”
Teleportation magic cost more money than most people could imagine. Then again, this was the Empire. They were throwing cash around just for the freshmen.
Had something like this even existed? Well, he had never properly read the original story.
An academic field trip… It sounded a lot like a university MT. The only real difference was that this one applied solely to first-years.
Please tell me they’re not going to drink themselves sick every night here too.
One of the things House John Nassen almost never touched was alcohol. The booze itself was a problem, and so were the snacks that came with it; they simply didn’t lay a hand on it. On rare occasions they might have a glass or two to liven the mood, but that was the absolute limit. There was even a saying in the family:
“If someone from John Nassen drinks more than four cups, that person is already dead.”
It was a phrase packed with meaning. Did it mean four cups was the memorial offering poured only for ghosts? Or that anyone who knocked back that much had better prepare to get beaten to death?
Ordinarily Kyle would have grumbled about what nonsense this was. This time, however, he was prepared to roll with it. The reason was simple: renovations on the indoor training hall had finally begun the day before. For the foreseeable future he would have no access to the equipment. He had planned to improvise progressive overload on weekdays and use visits to the Holy Order on weekends as an excuse to train. Now a mandatory first-year academic field trip had appeared on the calendar. It was still a hassle, but since things had already turned out this way, he figured he might as well go.
“I heard the second-years went east last year. This time… ah. It’s written right here, Lord Kyle. This year’s first-years are headed for the southern Empire.”
“…Where?”
“The southern Empire!”
A thought struck him at once. The roiders who had escaped the western Coalition and bolted south. He had wanted to chase them down and thrash them immediately, but without a proper pretext he had stayed put. And now, whether by pure chance or by inevitability wearing the mask of chance, he was being sent south.
“From what I can tell, we’ll probably head for the coastal areas of the south. There are historically significant sites where naval battles were fought against the southern kingdoms that have since been absorbed into the Empire, and plenty of cities nearby that trade with the independent lords.”
Listening to Nell’s detailed explanation beside him, Kyle thought:
At this rate, he could quietly take care of business and come back. Two full weeks was more than enough time.
The only real problem is that those roiders are holed up on an island…
A normal person might have started thinking about ship schedules. Kyle—and House John Nassen—were different.
I’ll just swim.