Northward - 1
I had managed to soothe Mother, yet I remained in the territory for a full day just in case. Fortunately, she did not shed tears again.
Of course her worry for a son heading off to war remained undiminished, but she seemed to have accepted that she could not stop me. All she offered now was encouragement: take care of yourself, achieve what you set out to do, and come home.
"Make sure you come by before the expedition sets out."
"Yes. I'll keep that firmly in mind."
The next morning Mother came all the way to the main gate of the lord's castle, took my hand, and repeated her instructions several times over. She would no longer try to hold me back, she said; she only asked that I visit the territory once more before heading north.
"You've worked hard."
Father, who had just returned from an overnight shift, patted my shoulder in encouragement. No doubt it was for the effort I had put into calming and persuading Mother.
"It was something that had to be done."
"I'm glad to hear you say so."
With those words Father fell silent, and I saw no reason to speak further either. We had already laid our hearts bare at my mansion; once war broke out we would march north together. There was no need to detain a man still reeking of overtime.
That said, the Imperial Diet is vicious. Even for overtime, finishing only after the sun has risen?
My future.
The thought left a bitter taste. One day I too would become an Imperial Count and be forced to labor inside that monstrous assembly.
If I continued to hold a high administrative post I could at least dump the parliamentary duties on Erich—but that would simply mean I could never retire.
Either path led to a nightmare.
Before I knew it the Academy calendar was already racing toward summer break. Perhaps because I would soon leave for the north, the approach of vacation brought a quiet sense of relief. At least during the fighting I would not have to wonder whether those hopeless brats were still alive and well.
Last year was hell.
That hazy summer when the entire club had refused to go home and stayed in the Empire instead. Thank the heavens nothing of the sort was happening this year.
Damn it—just remembering how I was hauled in front of the Crown Prince and the ministers and thoroughly roasted after hearing they intended to stay—
"I hear you will be moving soon."
"Yes. It is work for the Empire; I must gladly lend my hand."
Just as the old trauma threatened to surface, Villar's timely intervention snapped me back to the present.
It was almost impressive. Merely recalling the incident had nearly sent me into a fit in front of a guest. The club members of the '77 season were truly legendary…
"I have never faced the nomads myself, yet even the records make it clear they are savage and barbaric."
"For the most part, yes. The less savage nomads simply get eaten by the more savage ones."
I collected myself and tossed the remark back as a light joke; Villar answered with a faint smile.
A year and a half had passed since this knight and I had become a twisted community of fate. We could now trade jokes of this sort without a second thought.
"Of course, no matter how fierce they may be, they are powerless before the majesty of the Empire."
"Naturally. How could barbarians defy the Mandate of Heaven?"
A hollow laugh nearly escaped me on pure instinct. It was hardly the thing to say when those same barbarians had defied that Mandate with spectacular success five years ago and had begun defying it again a mere three years after the peace.
Still, there was nothing for it. As the Empire stirred with war preparations the Imperial Academy had grown restless, and once the Academy grew restless the forces of the Three Kingdoms inevitably learned that the Empire was readying for war.
It was not as though the Emperor were preparing in secret, nor could the Three Kingdoms' detachments stationed at the Academy access classified material, so there was no real need for concealment—yet for Villar, suddenly forced to witness another nation's war preparations, the position was awkward. The matter was too grave for a foreigner to acknowledge openly, yet he possessed eyes and ears and could not pretend complete ignorance.
The result was this polite greeting: a peculiar form of encouragement that declared no one would dare defy Heaven against an Empire now marching against those who had already defied it.
A knight is a knight, after all.
A seasoned politician or diplomat would have used the situation to probe gently or hunt for openings. Villar simply and quietly wished for an acquaintance's safety and victory. Only a rough-hewn knight could offer such unvarnished sincerity.
So what was I to do? It was this blunt knight's own brand of encouragement; even if it felt a little strange, I had to smile and accept it.
"…Even should they defy it, their end is obvious."
Villar himself seemed to sense something off and quickly added the rider.
"Haha. Sir Villar is quite right."
I offered him an appropriate smile and let the moment pass. I had received the encouragement; that was enough.
Organization of the expeditionary force proceeded without a hitch. There were no traitors to drag at our ankles as there had been five years earlier, and the sense of crisis regarding the nomads was entirely different; it was only natural. With the Imperial Counts themselves leading public opinion, the departure at least could be managed smoothly.
"The 8th, 11th, and 12th Legions of the Western Front Army have arrived in the Hablem Duchy."
"I shall appoint the commander of the 8th Legion as Marshal. The 8th, 11th, and 12th Legions will move at his command."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I handed the marshal's commission to the Minister of War; he bowed and withdrew. The forces drawn from the Central Front Army would travel together with the private soldiers of the capital region, so in practical terms every unit had reached its assigned position.
Twelve legions.
Fully twelve legions had been formed into the expeditionary force—roughly one hundred fifty thousand men. Even without the nobles' private troops, the central army alone more than doubled the nomads' numbers.
Yet there was no room for complacency. This was an invasion, not a defensive war. To face nomads on open plains one needed at least three times their strength; moreover this campaign was not mere subjugation but a war to display the Empire's majesty and bring the nomads under its wing. The greater the disparity, the better.
About the same scale as the last subjugation force.
Documents reporting the movement of private soldiers showed roughly more than a hundred thousand troops already marching toward the north or the vicinity of the capital. Combined with the central army's one hundred fifty thousand, over a quarter of a million men were now in motion for the conquest of the north.
Not the ideal outcome, but a respectable second-best. An Empire that had yet to erase completely the scars of war and succession struggle was fielding the same numbers as before. That fact alone would press hard upon the nomads. They could be made to believe that while they themselves had suffered in both quality and quantity, the Empire remained unchanged.
If only we had exceeded four hundred thousand…
The thought flickered past, but it was pure wishful thinking. Against the eastern kingdoms, perhaps; committing four hundred thousand to the north would bring overwhelming loss rather than gain.
The Imperial Army—central forces of the Emperor and local private armies of the lords—boasted a million men. To have more than forty percent of that host tied down on the steppes? The jackals of the east would never miss such an opportunity. One could not trade the east for barren grassland.
I banished the futile fantasy and returned to the documents.
Four marshals should suffice.
What mattered now was choosing marshals who could control the local forces.
Fortunately the Count of Tailglehen and the former Count of Horpfelt—both of whom had distinguished themselves in the last Great Subjugation War—were joining the campaign once more. With those two alone, mastery of the provincial troops would present no difficulty.
The remaining pair could be selected from the great lords of the west and the north—
…I'll leave it to the Crown Prince.
I would use this chance to extend the Crown Prince's influence into the west and north as well. If he himself sought out and appointed great lords qualified for the marshalcy, those men would become as good as his own supporters.
I reached for the communication orb resting on the table—to entrust the marshal appointments to the Crown Prince, and to summon a subject who required separate orders.
Not long after the communication orb began to glow with violet light, a teleportation mage appeared before the quarters. This was a summons from the Emperor himself, not the Crown Prince; lateness was unthinkable.
Moreover the northern expeditionary force was even now being assembled, and I was its accompanying inspector. The slightest appearance of dawdling would be dangerous in any number of ways.
"You have arrived? His Majesty is waiting."
Upon reaching the Imperial Palace the commander of the Imperial Knights opened the door at once.
I was going mad. Even the minimal checks had been omitted? The thought of what he intended to say made me distinctly uneasy.
Is he actually going to hand me inspection duties?
I knew, the Emperor knew, everyone knew that what the Emperor wanted from me was the role of joker, not that of auditor. Yet the sudden possibility that his habitual suspicion had exploded and that he truly meant to saddle me with inspection work crossed my mind.
That would be disastrous. Stirring up the interior of an expeditionary force that needed to fight at peak condition under the pretext of inspection? Trolling of that caliber rose to the level of art.
Surely not.
I quickly shook off the anxious thought. Even a suspicious Emperor would not issue inspection orders. The same Emperor who had clutched the back of his neck over the Second Prince and the Aesilon family's trolling would never commit the same folly himself.
…Right?
The palace was so vast that even the journey from the main gate to the Emperor's office took a fair amount of time. Still, the vice-commander of the Imperial Knights standing guard before the office, upon confirming my face, performed only the barest inspection and waved me through. At least further delay had been prevented; for that I was genuinely grateful.
And with the relief, the anxiety only swelled. I could somehow understand the main gate, but even in front of the office itself? Minimal checks or not, a meeting with the Emperor was a place where no amount of thoroughness could ever be enough.
What in the world does he mean to order me to do?
Cold sweat seemed to prickle along my spine. Was he planning a Khan-beheading operation? Order me to take the Khan's head before the expeditionary force even entered the north?
"Audit Department Chief, you have come."
"Long live His Majesty the Emperor. This servant who has received Your Majesty's grace, Karl Crassius, greets the noble and great sun of the Empire."
Of course spinning my thoughts alone was useless. I was already inside the office and had completed my greeting.
"Come closer."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
At the Emperor's command I approached carefully, still bowing at the waist.
"The duties of the Audit Department Chief are by no means light; I shall therefore speak briefly. Raise your head."
I lifted my gaze at once. The Emperor held something out.
Before I could even identify the object I instinctively accepted it. To keep the Emperor waiting was the act of a traitor.
A seal?
Only after the fact did I examine what I held: a white seal.
Yet it looked strangely familiar. Had I seen this before?
"It is the marquis seal once possessed by Aesilon. Since the Audit Department Chief himself recovered it, you should find it familiar."
Ah.
Only then did the memory return. When I had gone to notify the Aesilon Marquis family of their demotion, this was the marquis seal I had torn from the then family head.
So it was white originally.
When I took it, it had been red; that was why I had been confused.