How Much Did You Look Into Before Coming? - 2
Last year's expo, I was hit by wave after wave of guests. They came to rub shoulders with members of the imperial family and royalty, to make the acquaintance of the next saint, to catch a glimpse of the Audit Department Chief—someone rarely seen in high society—and, while they were at it, to buy desserts supposedly made by those lofty personages so they could brag, "I ate cookies made by royalty." Honestly, the reasons to show up vastly outnumbered any reasons to stay away.
And this year the list of reasons only grew. Ainter, who until last year had been little more than a nominal member of the imperial family, had reclaimed real authority. The Demon Duke—legend and object of faith among mages—had personally descended upon the event. On top of that, eating one of the Demon Duke's cookies supposedly granted the effect of a potion regardless of one's cultivation level?
A lot of reasons.
The result was this. The Baking Club booth had deliberately been set up in the quietest, most out-of-the-way corner, yet the moment the expo opened, guests came barreling straight toward us as if every other booth simply did not exist.
The one silver lining was that half the Academy visitors were nobles. Some would pass over the juniors first and make their rounds elsewhere; others would stroll over at a leisurely pace to preserve their dignity.
The problem was the remaining half: deranged mages who possessed neither juniors nor dignity.
"It has been some time, Tower Lord. I trust you have been well."
As an advisor I had the luxury of watching the guests from up close. The elderly man at the very front of the line bowed respectfully to the Demon Duke.
Who was he, though? Anyone bold enough to greet her first had to be someone of note, yet nothing came to mind. A vague figure flickered in the back of my memory, but both name and title remained hazy. I was certain I had seen or heard of him somewhere…
"Manfred. Yes, I have been quite well."
Ah.
The name unlocked it. This was none other than the previous Vice Tower Lord of the Magic Tower—a figure out of living history.
Wow. The old man was still alive? After his retirement there had been no word at all; I had assumed he was dead. Apparently he had simply tucked himself away in some mountain valley to live as a recluse.
"I have not even managed to send my regards in all this time. To meet you like this is a true blessing."
"At your age, no news is the best news. Whenever one of the children your age got in touch, it was almost always an obituary."
Only the Demon Duke could deliver a line like that so casually. Telling a Gandalf-looking old man something that amounted to "Glad you haven't died yet"—was that really allowed?
"Heh heh, I suppose that is true."
Judging by his reaction, it was. Well, anyone who had once served as Vice Tower Lord would have known the Demon Duke for a very long time. Black humor born of the gulf between races and lifespans would be nothing new to him.
Or maybe he was simply happy to see his old superior after so many years.
"Here. Take this. It's been ages; I ought to give you a little gift."
"Oh my, this is far too generous for a guest who arrived empty-handed."
The Demon Duke offered a small smile and held out a modest box. It was no larger than a single palm, wrapped in ordinary paper—the sort of package you might see in any neighborhood shop.
"No need to force yourself into the auction. Just enjoy yourself and head home."
At those words the former Vice Tower Lord's eyes, which had been half-lidded in relaxation, flew wide open. A gift presented with the word "auction" attached could only mean one thing.
"T-Tower Lord, this is—"
"Shh."
When the exalted Tower Lord herself signaled for silence, the former Vice Tower Lord had no choice but to close his mouth again. His lips were shut, but his face was a storm of confusion.
The fact that the Demon Duke's cookies possessed mana-doping effects, and that they would be sold by auction rather than ordinary booth sales, was being loudly advertised right at the Academy's main gate. That was why the former Vice Tower Lord was so shaken. The item he had expected to obtain only after raining gold coins upon the auction had simply rolled into his hands as a gift.
"I am not the one making them anyway. Handing a few to a child I have not seen in ages is perfectly fine."
The former Vice Tower Lord gazed at the Demon Duke with moist eyes, clearly moved that she still remembered their old bond. A superior this casually considerate—no wonder the mages revered her.
Child…
From my vantage point as a bystander, however, it was all I could do not to laugh. Her words and mannerisms were pure grandmother handing snacks to a grandson, yet visually it looked like a grandfather and his granddaughter.
I held it in. Laughing here would wound the Demon Duke deeply. Even Erich, whose intelligence had temporarily regressed to the Stone Age, would understand that much.
Whether the other mages had failed to notice the former Vice Tower Lord receiving the mana-doping cookie, or whether they simply lacked the courage to make a scene in front of the Demon Duke, they exchanged polite greetings and quietly left. Being guests, they even bought a few ordinary cookies on the way out. At least they still possessed a last shred of conscience.
Maybe I should have told them they didn't have to buy anything.
A small regret. They would not have cared about anything that was not a handmade cookie from the Demon Duke; if I had said purchases were optional, they might have left without buying. Then we would have had more stock left for later.
I glanced aside. Luise was baking in real time; club members who had sensed the crisis had rejoined the baking line for the first time in ages; Ainter was handling the nobles who came pouring in.
A lot of them.
The mages earlier had been thick as flies, but the nobles now were no less numerous. Mages had to travel from every corner of the continent; nobles were mostly local to the Empire, so of course there would be more. Foreign nobles were mixed in as well.
I really should not have sold any to the mages. We were already struggling to meet demand for the nobles.
"It is an honor to meet Your Highness once more."
"Haha, the pleasure is mine, Count. I heard a small disturbance arose in your domain—has the matter been resolved?"
"Yes, thanks to Your Highness's concern, it was settled without issue."
I let out a quiet sigh and fixed my gaze on Ainter, who was deep in conversation. His smiling face looked so rigidly fixed that I half-feared it had frozen that way. I pitied him and, at the same time, felt proud of him.
Thank you.
Between the Audit Department Chief everyone had already seen at last year's expo and the Third Prince who had made his surprise debut at this year's New Year's Audience, the nobles naturally gravitated toward the latter. Unlike last year, they spent a cozy stretch of time with Ainter before ever approaching me.
Of course they still came over after finishing their thrilling one-on-one with the Third Prince, but by then they had already introduced themselves and stated their important business to Ainter. That made dealing with them far easier. Not having to rack my brain wondering "Who is this person again?" while greeting nobles was already a huge win. Truly, thank you, Ainter.
The dignity of Number One.
Warmth bloomed in my chest. As expected of the high-grade personnel personally bestowed by the Crown Prince. Numbers Two and Three helping with Academy work were also appreciated, but nothing was more tiresome than handling nobles.
So I kept my eyes on Ainter. Thanks to my subordinate tanking with his entire body, the advisor got to rest; if any trouble arose, I would step in at once. That was only human decency.
—Or so I thought, right before trouble appeared.
"I present myself before His Highness the Third Prince."
A woman with silver hair in a ponytail and crimson eyes bowed deeply to Ainter. She looked a full twenty years younger than the nobles who had greeted him earlier. Even Ainter, who had been talking nonstop, fell silent for a moment.
For Ainter, the New Year's Audience had been practically his social debut; most of the nobles he had met were older title-holders. Naturally he had never seen a young noble like the woman before him. He was probably turning over the possibility that she was the young lady of some high house.
Too bad. She was not a young lady—she was a titled noble herself.
"The Count of Horfelt."
No one was currently standing in front of me, so I slipped over to Ainter's side.
Inserting myself into a private greeting was not the height of courtesy, but leaving him to flounder through useless memory searches would have been worse. I could always claim I had simply been happy to see an old acquaintance.
"Ah, Karl-oppa, you are here as well."
The Count of Horfelt spotted me at once and offered a light nod of greeting. I had worried she might remember only me and not the reverse, but thankfully she had not forgotten.
"The Count of Horfelt?"
A spark of interest lit Ainter's eyes the moment he heard our exchange.
Yes—this was the Count of Horfelt. After the previous count's surprise retirement last year, she had been unceremoniously saddled with both the Imperial Count title and a seat in the Imperial Diet at the tender age of nineteen. A pitiful existence, really.
"Yes, Your Highness. I am Zenobia Hiden of Horfelt. I had the opportunity to see Your Highness at the New Year's Audience, but I was too dull-witted to offer my greetings properly."
"Haha, not at all. Everyone knows an Imperial Count labors tirelessly for the imperial family and the Empire. I understand completely."
Ainter hastily waved both hands as the Count of Horfelt bowed again. The fact that the two of them were meeting for the first time was only natural. An Imperial Count might meet the Emperor or the Crown Prince, but what business would she have with a Third Prince so far removed from the line of succession?
Still, failing to memorize the face of a newly ascended Imperial Count… for someone who had only just regained real power, Ainter was a bit short on social sense.
…Or was this simply the lingering residue of an era when taking any interest in politics or personal networks could have cost him his head? Thinking of it that way was rather sad.
"I notice, however, that the Count seems well acquainted with the Audit Department Chief."
"Yes. The Hiden family and the Crassius family have long maintained ties; we have met several times."
The Count of Horfelt answered Ainter's topic-shifting question with perfect composure. In truth her friendship ran deeper with Erich than with me, but it was true we had met a few times.
"And an old habit remained, so I committed a discourtesy toward the Audit Department Chief. I apologize."
She smoothly turned and offered me an apology as well. I was briefly puzzled, then realized she must have been bothered by calling me "Karl-oppa" just now instead of using my title.
"It is fine. You did not even get the name wrong—something that minor hardly counts."
Of course it was not a discourtesy. We were not strangers; a familiar acquaintance using my given name was nothing. As long as it did not sink to the level of the ministers' usual "Hey, you bastard, you son of a bitch," everything was acceptable.
Watching Karl-oppa smile faintly was deeply satisfying. The gambit had worked perfectly.
She had presented herself not as the tomboyish little girl of her pre-title days, but as a proud Imperial Count and a worthy member of the Imperial Diet. Quickly acknowledging a slip and apologizing, prioritizing public relationships over private ones—surely that was the sort of demeanor that would please Karl-oppa, Audit Department Chief.
This is how you score points.
Karl-oppa was stationed at the Academy; she remained in the Imperial Capital. Opportunities to meet outside of unusual circumstances like this were virtually nonexistent.
Therefore every word, every gesture, demanded care.
I have to make a good impression on my future brother-in-law.
He was Erich's older brother and the next head of House Crassius. Winning his favor would make marriage to Erich that much smoother.