Unmarried, 21, Powerful — 1
The Crassius family is one of the Imperial Count houses, direct vassals of the Emperor, a prestigious martial lineage that holds a fief near the Imperial Capital. To put it a little unflatteringly, they occupy the position of the Emperor’s hunting dog—or pet. But isn’t a dog raised by a high minister said to be rarer than most commoners? And in this case the master is the Emperor himself, while the dog’s own standing is considerable.
As a result, the Imperial Count houses—including the Crassius family—are regarded as rather fine marriage prospects in high society. Because these families live in such close proximity to the Emperor, forming a connection with them often brings quiet benefits.
Moreover, if an Imperial Count happens to let slip something like “my daughter-in-law’s family…” in front of the Emperor, that family’s fortunes rise overnight. Even the most paranoid Emperor is not about to seize and kill someone recommended by his own pet.
In short, I myself am a prime catch with no shortage of people aiming for me in imperial society. Strangely, marriage proposals have dried up completely since last year, but before that I had received a fair number of them besides Margarethe’s.
“Do not concern yourself with small matters. Focus on the work you must do.”
Those were the words of the family head right after the Great Subjugation War. He had casually dismissed the grand affair of a noble marriage as a “small matter” and delivered what amounted to a cursed blessing: just keep diligently performing your civil-service duties for the Emperor.
Thanks to the family head, I have managed not to think about marriage until now—but it seems that is no longer possible. Unlike the head of the house, who assumes things will take care of themselves if left alone, Mother appears to have reached the end of her patience.
“It arrived today?”
“Yes, around midday.”
I nodded at the butler’s words and examined the contents of the letter. There was no reason for Mother—rather than the family head—to send a letter except for a marriage discussion.
Still, I held out a long time.
I had used the family head’s words as a shield, but the limit had clearly been reached. A few more years and I would be completely past marriageable age, so I could understand. What mother would simply watch while her eldest son looked ready to evolve into a confirmed bachelor?
The letter began with ordinary greetings. The weather is hot—are you keeping well? I am proud of the way you devote yourself to the Imperial Family and the Empire. I wish you would visit the fief more often… the sort of things a mother might say to her son without anything strange about them.
Unfortunately, the relationship between mother and son is far more distant than the warmth of the letter suggests.
“So I would like you to come to the fief.”
Skimming through, I finally reached the real business at the end. Both brothers should stop lingering only in the capital and return to the territory so she could see their faces.
Yes, we ought to show our faces. Honestly, I expect a barrage of marriage talks the moment I set foot in the manor, but if we live too separately, ugly rumors might start circulating in high society that the Crassius count’s house is falling apart.
Having more or less accepted that, I was about to fold the letter when I noticed one more sentence underneath.
“I have heard there are other guests as well. If those people have no objection, bring them along.”
What.
My mind froze for a moment at the sentence that had suddenly appeared. Bring them along? Those idiots?
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
There was the condition “if they are fine with it,” but those people had already been looking for any chance to get outside the capital. Of course they would say yes.
I stared blankly down at the letter for a long while until the butler carefully spoke up, and only then did I come back to myself.
Sorry, Margarethe. You must have worked hard to keep the club members from going out, and now I am going to tear that down with my own hands.
For the first time in a long while I was able to have dinner at the manor instead of the office. I know I should not be happy over something so ordinary, yet I felt pleased all the same.
“With you here, Orabeoni, it finally feels like we are actually in your manor.”
Luise’s softly smiling words stabbed my heart like a dagger. She had only meant that she was glad and happy to see me, but from the perspective of someone who had been neglecting his guests, it was a remark that prodded at guilt.
And right after hearing something like that, as if by some curse, plans had appeared for me to leave the manor tomorrow. Not a simple commute within the capital, but an outing to an entirely different region. And not alone—everyone.
Damn it.
The moment I am freed from work I find myself going on an outing with high-ranking personages; the situation is thoroughly distasteful. It is not as if we are going on a business golf outing or a business hike—what exactly is this?
Of course, contrary to Mother’s request, I could simply leave without saying a word to the club members. The problem is that doing so would mean abandoning them at a distance where I could not respond immediately. If I were going to abandon them, I would never have put them in the manor in the first place.
In the end, after some thought, I carefully opened my mouth. If I was going to say it anyway, better to say it quickly and be done.
“Erich.”
“Hm?”
First, the blood relative who absolutely had to travel as a set with me.
“Mother has ordered us to come to the fief. We leave first thing tomorrow.”
The knife in Erich’s hand stopped moving. In the middle of a peaceful, enjoyable capital life spent with Luise, a sudden summons had dropped on him; of course he was taken aback.
And among the club members, going somewhere alone would make him worry about the other rivals. Frankly, though, even left alone those four would never progress far enough for him to worry about.
“Got it. I’ll get ready.”
Still, answering the summons so calmly suggested that some sense of family affection or duty remained. To feel attachment to that bleak household—he had grown up well.
So I immediately offered a gift that would tempt him. You are not going alone; everyone is going, so do not worry.
“And Mother has invited the entire Baking Club.”
At those words Erich’s expression, which had darkened a little, brightened again, and the other four idiots also showed positive reactions. How do they move exactly as I predicted?
Afraid that if I let my guard down I would stare at them with eyes full of pity, I turned my gaze elsewhere and saw someone whose face had grown dark, unlike the club members.
“Of course Mar is included. Irina as well.”
Only then did her complexion brighten. So there was another person whose thoughts were easy to read. Still, compared to the idiots she was cute enough that I let it pass.
“If everyone is fine with it, I plan to depart tomorrow.”
“Of course we are fine.”
Ryutis spoke as representative. Right. If they are fine, that is fortunate.
Yet even though it is fortunate, I somehow feel angry. Lately I seem to be developing anger-management issues.
Is this how the minister feels?
It was a feeling I never wanted to understand until the day I died.
Everyone having agreed to attend as requested would have been the end of it—except that decision now had to be relayed to the fief. Failing to reply in time would be the same as reading and ignoring the message.
So the moment the meal ended I hurried to my room and contacted the territory.
“Around lunchtime tomorrow—will that be all right?”
“Yes, that will be more than enough. Preparations are already under way.”
When the face of the chief steward, worn thin with fatigue, greeted me through the communication orb, I felt an unexpected surge of emotion. Do I look like that to other people? The chief steward is a proud titled noble, second-in-command of the count’s territory—how has he managed to look exhausted without missing a single day for five years? Even a viscount gets ground down without mercy.
And that pitiable, lonely feeling was not mine alone.
“Young Master, are you quite well?”
“I’m fine. Nothing wrong.”
“Your complexion is poor. You are not overworking yourself, are you?”
“…….”
If the chief steward is worried, then to other people’s eyes I must look like an excellent victim of overwork. Yet when I looked in the mirror it was the same face as always.
So overwork is the default setting.
Without my noticing, the state of fatigue had become my basic expression. Four years is a terrifying length of time.
I closed my mouth for a moment in bitterness, and the chief steward, perhaps trying to change the mood, brought up another subject.
“Madam has been wanting to see you a great deal, Young Master. Young Master Erich stayed in the fief until he entered the Academy, but you have remained only in the capital, have you not?”
“I was busy; I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. Fortunately the family head understood.”
It was not a particularly interesting topic, so I answered half-heartedly. Mother has been wanting to see me, has she? Well, I wonder if that is truly so.
Mother is not an evil-hearted person or an abusive parent, but neither is she the warm type who would say she misses her child. In a way she practices the same hands-off parenting as the family head.
If it were only toward me, the possessed outsider, I would not care—but she was never particularly warm even toward Erich, who is her child in both body and soul, and that is the problem.
Sensing my mood, the chief steward gave an awkward laugh and spoke again.
“If you speak with Madam yourself, Young Master, you will come to understand her true feelings.”
“I hope so.”
Of course I had not run away from home because I hated my parents; I was simply busy and therefore stayed in the capital. Even if I learned her true feelings now, I doubted anything would really change.
And throughout all of that, the chief steward never once said that the family head wanted to see me. Apparently even he felt that defending the family head on that point would be too much of a stretch. Refreshingly honest of him.
After I had finished informing the chief steward of our departure—
“To the Tailglehen count’s territory, is it?”
—there remained one last person to report to.
“My, I heard you even finished the backlog of work today. What a pity.”
You son of a bitch.
The final reporting partner was the Crown Prince, who provoked as naturally as breathing. With the royals about to leave the capital in a herd, I at least had to say where we were going.
“Still, it is fortunate you have the leisure, is it not?”
= This bastard is spoon-fed the privilege of not having to come to work every day, so now he goes to work somewhere else?
“Thanks to that I was able to prepare for the unexpected.”
= I’m just as much of a bastard, so shut up.
From the Crown Prince’s point of view it must have been both absurd and amusing. He had dangled the extraordinary benefit of not having to report to work every day so that I would stay at the manor—yet the very recipient of that benefit was voluntarily taking the royals outside the capital.
He must be wondering just what kind of creature I am. Since I was carrying the bomb out of my own free will he would not stop me, but still.
“If anything arises, do not hesitate to speak. Even outside the capital you remain guests of the Empire, after all.”
= I do not want to miss the sight of you rolling around, so report diligently.
The Crown Prince delivered one last provocation and cut the connection.
What a genuine bastard. Is the future in which that man becomes the next Emperor really correct?
No—better than the Second Prince, true, but is that really the best we can do?
It was a day that made my heart ache for the Empire’s dark future.