How Much Did You Research Before Coming? - 3
The Imperial Diet's role was to enact laws and check the executive—but that was only ever its nominal purpose. In truth it was a gathering of the limbs that moved first at His Majesty the Emperor's command. They crafted the laws His Majesty desired and struck at any ministry or official who displeased him. That was the real work of the Imperial Diet and its members.
In the Empire's early days the assemblymen had been mocked as the Emperor's rubber stamps, the Imperial family's dogs—yet today that same mockery amounted to the highest praise: that they stood at the very core of power. The Emperor's cherished favorites, the confidants who attended him always and closely—what greater honor could a noble ask for?
The blade His Majesty swung first; the final shield that protected him. Of course the members of the Imperial Diet would answer when abnormal events struck the Empire.
"This year's Academy looks set to be rather turbulent."
The remark came from Count Gibelt, the eldest of the assemblymen gathered for the session. A mere member had spoken before the Speaker, Count Bardon—yet neither Bardon nor anyone else raised an objection. The speakership rotated on a fixed cycle; Count Gibelt's voice, backed by age and experience, simply carried more weight.
"Heh heh. I only hope the students aren't too startled."
"This, too, is experience. In a way, is it not also an opportunity?"
"Well now. Even plants rot at the roots if overwatered—calling it an opportunity might be a stretch."
After Count Gibelt spoke, the other assemblymen began to open their mouths one by one.
The Third Prince's recovery of real authority, His Excellency the Magic Lord's residence at the Academy, the key figures who had remained there since last year—for a host of reasons, this year's Academy Fair had drawn incomparably more visitors than ever before. And those visitors held neither light titles nor light offices, so the Diet's attention was inevitable.
The Empire—more precisely, the Academy—was in the grip of abnormal events, and the Diet had to show that it cared. That was the proper conduct of those who devoted themselves to His Majesty and the Empire. The only question was who would take responsibility for displaying that concern—
"Still, knowing Countess Horfelt will go sets my mind at ease."
"Haha, quite right. Better a young friend go than any of us, I suppose."
This time there was no need for such fretting. I was the one going.
—That Wilhelm fellow showed not the slightest intention of arranging a political match. "Let the two of them meet on their own" and other such soft nonsense.
Not long ago, Father had contacted me from the estate, bringing with him the crucial intelligence that the Count of Tailglehen—my future father-in-law—had left Erich's marriage entirely to the young man's free will.
So the moment the Imperial Diet turned its gaze upon the Academy, I volunteered for the assignment. If I was to realize the dream I held, I needed to meet Erich as often as possible and speak with him even a little. Expecting results without effort was the act of a fool.
Setting aside my work in the Imperial Capital to take a field posting was a heavy burden, yet I did not regret it. On the contrary, the thought of seeing Erich after so long filled me with joy as I set out.
...Who is that?
I was happy—until I saw the little blonde girl clinging to Erich's side.
Honestly, the one close to Countess Horfelt wasn't me but Erich. I had no friends, and Erich had many. Perhaps he had a bit of the capybara temperament himself.
So I exchanged a few polite greetings and led her to Erich—and that, it seemed, had been a mistake.
We're doomed.
The moment Countess Horfelt, who had been smiling gently at the sight of Erich, stiffened at the sight of Sera—and the moment Sera, catching that gaze, linked arms with Erich—I felt it instinctively. This was going to go very, very badly.
Yes, something had seemed off from the start. A person who had only inherited her title last year and ought to be busy coming all the way to the Academy was strange enough. And freezing the instant she saw Sera made it obvious.
You black-capybara bastard.
Countess Horfelt seemed to have feelings for Erich as well. Of course Erich had no idea. The idiot.
"Zenobia noona?"
Even from a third party's view the disaster was plain, yet Erich himself, the party concerned, showed no sense of crisis at all—his reaction was utterly casual.
No—seeing Countess Horfelt appear so suddenly, he did look at least a little surprised, so "casual" wasn't quite right. He was still an idiot, though.
"It's been a while, Erich. You've grown a lot, haven't you?"
At any rate, Countess Horfelt quickly composed her expression and spoke far more gently than she had when addressing me. Erich wasn't a civil servant, after all; she could still treat him as a close older sister to a younger brother.
That she was aiming for the next stage beyond "older sister" was something I would set aside for now.
"Wow, I never expected to see you here. How have you been?"
That lunatic.
Erich approached Countess Horfelt still arm-in-arm with Sera. The pitiful sight nearly wrung a double curse out of me.
He was insane. If he was going to approach Countess Horfelt, he should either unlink arms with Sera, or if he meant to keep the arm-link, he should not approach Countess Horfelt at all. Combining the two was asking for disaster. It was like locking fighting cocks in the same pen.
And already the two fighting cocks had entered each other's range, glaring with sharp eyes.
"I've been well, of course. But—"
Countess Horfelt answered with a forced smile, drawing out the end of her sentence as she looked at Sera again. The height difference made it seem as though she were looking straight down on her.
"Who is this child? A friend?"
She even called her a child. An older, taller woman branding her a child cast a magic that truly made Sera look like a little girl. And Sera, having suffered from illness, was on the smaller side for her age to begin with...
"This is Sera. The childhood friend I told you about before."
"Ah, that child?"
As if only just remembering, Countess Horfelt answered with a deep smile.
"The head maid's daughter, wasn't it? The young lady of Baron Trimara's house. I recall."
Was it just me? Those words sounded like a veiled dig: How dare a vassal's daughter presume to keep company with a count's son?
Unfortunately, I was not the only one who heard it that way. Sera's eyes trembled for an instant, and the counterattack came immediately.
"Erich. Zenobia—is that the one from the Hiden family?"
"Ah, yeah. That's right."
"Then that would make her Countess Horfelt? How kind of her to come all the way to the Academy when she must be so busy."
At those words I unconsciously took several steps back. They sounded ordinary enough, but underneath lay: You're a count, and yet you have so much free time you can come to the Academy?
"Seeing a count treat Erich so familiarly, she seems like a warm-hearted person."
Ah, one more. A pointed note on etiquette: was it proper for a titled noble to speak casually to the child of an ordinary noble house?
I gently rubbed my throat. The verbal sparring that had flown back and forth in an instant left a spectator feeling as though the air itself had been cut off. Glancing around, I saw the other club members drifting away from Erich as well.
It was terrifying. For us, whose soft experiences amounted only to the hopeless race of members with Luise and the peaceful resolution of six lovers without a single dispute, this fierce mouth-fighting was hell descended upon the mortal world. Like false madness witnessing true madness.
Luise...
Meanwhile Luise, Erich's first love and first heartbreak, was putting as much distance as possible, quiet as a dead mouse. She looked terrified that the sparks might fly her way.
Of course, the entire Baking Club was under a strict gag order regarding Luise and Erich's relationship, so Sera didn't know—but people with guilty consciences are naturally fearful. Establishing a safe distance was only sensible.
The nonstop volleys of verbal blades ended with Countess Horfelt's withdrawal. More precisely, Countess Horfelt turned away first, wary of the other visitors' gazes gathering.
"I'll come by again later. I plan to stay at the Academy for the duration of the fair myself."
But it was only a temporary ceasefire. With Countess Horfelt remaining at the Academy, a second and third round could break out at any time.
Should I run?
I seriously considered it. Fleeing over something this trivial—something I wasn't even a party to—might look ridiculous, but this was the mad spectacle of two acquaintances waging a ferocious mouth-fight over my little brother. Who on earth could stand by and watch that in peace? Unless you enjoyed watching love triangles, you couldn't endure it.
And the little brother stuck in the middle was so lacking in awareness and intelligence that he might as well have been living in the Stone Age—no help at all. That bastard probably didn't even notice they had been slashing at each other.
My head hurt. Watching last year's hopeless race had only made my insides churn; now I was afraid of getting caught in the blast radius just by being nearby. Both of them were childhood friends who had been sharpening their knives for over a decade, after all.
I never thought I'd be worrying about this sort of thing.
I felt self-loathing and misery. We had dealt with all the groups trying to smash the Academy, divided up the swarming new students to manage them—and now the problem was family?
But what could I do? Looking on the bright side—the very bright side—a cozy love-triangle fight was better than an incident that shook the Academy or the nation.
...Though I had my doubts about how "cozy" it really was.
"Oh, so this is the bread Lord Tanian made."
"Yes. Do you like it?"
"Of course! Five more, please!"
With that bitter feeling I looked from a corner of the booth toward the sales counter, where a young man in priest's robes was impulse-buying Tanian's bread.
After the mage visitors and the noble visitors came the priest visitors seeking Tanian. The silver lining was that the priests neither caused a ruckus nor required me to step forward and greet them.
Priests really are the best.
Truly, they were virtuous beings who followed the will of the gods. Compared to any other profession, they were people of pure goodness.
I thought so—until Tanian suddenly called me. The moment I thought well of them, that bastard stabbed me in the back.
"Brother Bedler says he has something he wishes to ask you, Brother."
"Me?"
The unexpected words made me tilt my head. If it had been a civil servant or a noble, fine—but I had no particular connection with priests.
Of course, one could still ask questions without a connection. Still, it was rare for priests to speak first to a high-ranking secular official. Perhaps if one were a diocesan bishop forced by necessity into politics...
"What is it?"
I couldn't ignore a virtuous customer, so I nodded and approached. Bedler quickly bowed his head in greeting.
His polite manners satisfied the baseline of goodwill. All right, whatever the question was, if I could answer it I would. How hard could it be?
It was hard.
"Have you ever had contact with a heretical faith?"
The question came in so abruptly that I lost my words for a moment. What, heresy all of a sudden?
"...I have suppressed the Twilight Cult."
"And other heresies?"
I had no idea. I didn't even know what other heresies existed besides the Twilight Cult.
At my answer, Bedler rubbed his chin as if puzzled and scanned my body—especially my upper torso.
What is this.
What is going on? If something is clicking for you, say it already.