An Unwanted Countship
The Emperor had declared that he would draw troops from no fewer than three regional armies to form the expeditionary force, and the nobles—swept along by public opinion—found their loyalty and martial spirit bursting forth so fiercely that they offered up their private soldiers and war funds of their own accord. In light of that, one could fairly say this summons had been the Emperor’s one-man show and an unqualified triumph. Even if the Imperial Army suffered heavy losses in the coming northern campaign, it would not be the Emperor’s forces alone that plunged into the abyss; the lords’ armies would go down with them.
Having secured that complete victory, the Emperor made his exit. The nobles, fleeced before their very eyes, ought to have muttered something like “life is a goddamn mess” and returned to their estates or offices—yet the Emperor would not even grant them that petty discontent.
An incident capable of wiping away, in a single stroke, the memory of being thoroughly fleeced by the Emperor’s schemes had erupted at the very end of the summons.
“The Audit Department Chief’s merits are certainly great, but to think he would receive a countship all at once.”
“And a hereditary one with a fief attached, no less. Wiridia may be a northern frontier holding, but if the northern campaign ends in success…”
“Astonishing. For a mere scion who is not even a titled noble to prove his ability and receive a peerage.”
At the Emperor’s sudden announcement of Karl’s appointment as military inspector and the bestowal of a countship, the nobles in the grand conference chamber did not even leave; they simply buzzed among themselves.
Had it been a lower title—a viscounty or barony—they might have shrugged it off. Even a non-hereditary, life-peerage rank would have fallen within the bounds of comprehension. But a countship, the unmistakable mark of high nobility, granted as a hereditary title complete with a fief? That was no light matter.
Damn it.
My lips felt parched. He had given a countship even to me—someone who would become an Imperial Count in due course anyway? That sort of thing only happened when a man had rendered truly monumental service… or when they intended to work him to death.
Regrettably, I seemed to fall into both categories.
Even the Imperial Counts didn’t know.
I cast a sidelong glance toward the cluster of Imperial Counts. Even those who had spearheaded the pro-war opinion looked openly flustered. Perhaps the Emperor had felt no need to consult them on the matter of the title, or the idea had struck him so suddenly there had been no time. Either way, it no longer mattered. The moment the Emperor bestowed the title, the decision became irreversible.
“Congratulations. You’ve got plenty of children already, and now there’s another title to pass down.”
“No, that’s not—”
The Minister chose that moment to needle me; I nearly snapped back, but the awkward curl of his lips cooled my temper at once. Judging by his face, the Minister was just as bewildered. He had forced the joke simply to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere.
Then, lips flattening again, he whispered rapidly in a low voice.
“Leave as naturally as you can. That way they’ll assume you received private word from His Majesty and won’t dare approach you.”
“Understood.”
I offered a grateful bow to the Minister who was practically shoving me out and to the other department chiefs who nodded in agreement, then vacated my seat.
The Minister was right. If I alone exited with unhurried composure while everyone else reeled in confusion, they would mistake me for a hidden camera planted by the Emperor and the Audit Department Chief. They would not dare approach me then.
These men lived by reading the room; sooner or later they would realize I was a victim too. But at least I could avoid being swarmed by every high-ranking official at once. That alone was enough.
This is insane.
The moment I left the grand conference chamber I lengthened my stride. Whether I barricaded myself in the Audit Department or at the mansion, I needed to hide.
Damn it—I never expected to end up receiving a countship of all things.
Once inside the mansion I went straight into no-visitors mode. No matter how I looked at it, a mansion whose doors could be locked was safer than government offices where other civil servants or nobles might wander in.
Of course I had already informed the Demon Duke via communication crystal that I was hiding at the mansion. The instant I named my refuge she teleported straight over.
“My dear, what on earth has happened? Military inspector—why you of all people!”
Seeing the mix of panic and sorrow on the Demon Duke’s face, I felt a little moved. She was protesting not because I had received a countship, but because I would have to take part in the war. Knowing there was someone who worried for me like this… I hadn’t lived my life entirely in vain.
“Did you know about this as well, dear?”
“No. I had no idea. Really.”
I shook my head firmly at the Demon Duke, whose eyes were beginning to sharpen.
I had intended to join the war, yes—but even I had been searching for a proper pretext. I had never imagined the Emperor would fold me into the expeditionary force. Who could have predicted he would saddle me with an inspectorship and a title just to drag me along?
“So it was His Majesty’s decision, then.”
Muttering that, the Demon Duke lightly bit her lip and sank into thought.
This was a matter even she could not block. The Emperor had acknowledged a crisis of the Empire and the Mandate of Heaven, and—though there had been manipulation of public opinion—he had declared war at the request of every high official. In a war that staked the nation’s fate, a duke could not simply say, “Please leave my future husband out of it.”
“Don’t worry. It isn’t as though we’re facing a Heaven-defier. Dorgon may be strong, but he’s not unbeatable.”
I spoke carefully, trying to comfort the dejected Demon Duke. A hundred thousand nomads, the one-and-only monster Kagan, and the Eight Steeds who were combat machines on par with Dorgon—even in that madness the Empire had ultimately triumphed.
Now the enemy numbered sixty thousand at most, Kagan was dead, and of the Eight Steeds only Dorgon remained. The Empire’s national strength might not be what it once was, but the North had weakened even more. Nothing truly threatening my safety was likely to—
“What wife in the world could rest easy knowing her husband is going to war?”
“I’m sorry…”
At the faint reproach mixed into her words I quickly lowered my head. She was right; I had no counter.
Yes—there was no such thing as a safe war. The best course was never to take part at all, and once you set foot in one, dying at any moment would not be strange. Yet here I was telling her not to worry; of course it grated.
“Because of the Heaven-defier I nearly carried a wound forever… and I had only just begun to erase it…”
Her voice was almost on the verge of tears now, and my heart ached. I had spoken as nonchalantly as possible because I was already set on going to war, but if I put myself in her place I would have grabbed the back of my neck and foamed at the mouth. Even knowing how strong the Demon Duke was, if she announced she was going to war I would of course worry.
And so, caught in the dilemma of being unable either to refuse an imperial command or to send me off with a smile, an awkward silence settled over us.
“My lord, are you in?”
That silence was broken by a knock and the butler’s voice seeking me.
“Butler? What is it?”
I felt uneasy. I had asked him not to disturb me unless it was urgent, wanting a little quiet—and yet this butler, who was always faithful to my words, had come all the way to my room. Something truly massive must have happened.
“The Count of Tailglehen has arrived.”
“Ah.”
Yes. Truly massive.
“His Lordship said that if you were busy he would come another time, but—”
“Show him to the reception room. I’ll be right there.”
“Understood.”
As the butler’s footsteps receded I let out a small sigh.
No-visitors mode or not, refusing a visit from my own father—the head of the house—was awkward. Besides, while I had been hunkering down in the mansion, the family head might have received some instruction from the Emperor. Meeting him could do no harm.
“Beatrix, want to come with me?”
“…No. It would be better if you went alone this time, dear.”
After a moment’s hesitation the Demon Duke gently shook her head. The family head visiting now was far more likely to have come not as my father and her father-in-law, but as an Imperial Count—one of the Emperor’s limbs.
When I reached the reception room I saw the butler just setting a teacup before the family head.
“You’ve come.”
Noticing my arrival, the family head greeted me flatly. If one could even call that a greeting.
“I apologize for the delay.”
“No need. I only just sat down myself.”
In a voice neither soft nor stiff—simply level—the family head continued. I took the seat opposite him, and the butler bowed swiftly and withdrew.
“Congratulations. You are now a proper titled noble yourself.”
The moment I sat, the family head brought up the title.
I was rather glad. If he had raised the subject of the peerage, the odds were high that he had heard something from the Emperor and come to deliver it.
“I am overwhelmed by such excessive grace.”
“His Majesty judged it fitting and bestowed it; there is no need to regard it as excessive.”
When I offered the customary humility, the family head firmly shook his head.
Quite unexpected. I had thought he would say something about repaying His Majesty’s grace still more diligently, or about not growing arrogant and striving harder. Or perhaps treating the countship as excessive grace would imply the Emperor’s judgment was wrong, so he insisted it was proper? That made a certain sense.
“But return it. You may say that in the grand conference chamber you were too astonished to open your mouth.”
“Pardon?”
I could only gape at the sudden words. The family head spoke as though puzzled.
“Have you perhaps developed a desire for the title?”
“No, not particularly.”
Desire? Hardly. I already had an Imperial Countship and a capital-region fief guaranteed, plus the label of Audit Department Chief stuck to me. Even if the Wiridia countship I had just received was hereditary and came with land, honestly it made little difference whether I had it or not.
“Then return it. Tell him you are too awed to accept it—that while you are deeply moved by his trust, your sorrow at being unable to live up to that trust leaves you unable to dare receive it. Then His Majesty will also withdraw the post of military inspector.”
Ah.
Only then did I grasp the family head’s true intent. He, too, was reluctant to see me go to war.
“My lord. While the title is indeed an overwhelming grace to me, as a noble of the Empire it is only right that I render service for the Imperial House and the Empi—”
“You have already fulfilled more than enough devotion and duty. No one may demand further sacrifice from you.”
My body went rigid. Those words were not ones an Imperial Count—the Emperor’s loyal hound—ought to speak. An Imperial Count who held infinite loyalty and devotion as virtues had just declared there was no need for further devotion. And he had said it to the very heir who would succeed him and lead the Imperial Count family.
“…At the very least, that is what I believe.”
To that, I could give no answer at all.