Pax Crefelofenica - 2
Those of even slightly higher rank in the expeditionary force were buried in post-war affairs, but I was able to take a step back from the crush. Part of it was consideration for a (formerly) critically wounded man; part of it was that an auditor meddling in post-war processing would be a serious overreach. In the first place, the Emperor had not truly dispatched an auditor for the sake of auditing.
What little work still fell to me was the final allocation of titles. I had already promised titles to most of the major figures, but the chieftains who had distinguished themselves in the last battle needed to be rewarded as well. Those who earned merit in the greatest battle of the war—the battle that ended the war—shall receive rewards to match. That precedent had to stand if the days ahead were to remain manageable.
And so I drafted the final list of title nominees—
A bit many, isn't it?
One marquis nominee and twelve count nominees. Fully thirteen great lords were about to be born.
Looking only at the North's sheer area, even thirty great lords would not have been strange—but power comes not from the breadth of land, but from population. Considering the desolate North, thirteen great lords did feel like rather a lot.
Still, this is the best we can do.
After a brief deliberation, I stamped the seal without revision. Purely by tribal influence and merit, this was the correct answer. Drop even one name and you would have to drop them all; elevate even one and you would have to elevate them all—the count nominees' merits were that evenly matched.
Ah, except for Count Kaitana, the overwhelming frontrunner. That man would have been a marquis if there had been two marquis vacancies.
...A bloc of thirteen great lords.
As I gathered up the final draft, the thought struck me. Bound by the common identity of surrendering nobles, new-blood nobles, and nomadic nobles, those thirteen would effectively move as a single faction. They were not dense people; of course they would.
And no matter how new the faction, no matter how little power their territories yet held, a faction of thirteen great lords appearing on the political stage was nothing anyone could ignore. One of them was even a marquis.
Things will be noisy for a while.
Moreover, if mainland nobles—specifically those with great holdings in the North—allied with the Northern faction, both politics and high society would be turned upside down. The mainland nobles would become the North's spokesmen and exercise influence, while the North would gain a voice in a mainland they did not know, forging a tight-knit faction.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with me. That was a problem for the Crown Prince who would soon inherit the throne.
Abdication, huh.
The image of the Crown Prince wearing the imperial crown suddenly put me in a good mood.
When the Emperor declared his abdication, I would have to bang my head on the floor for a few days begging him to please hand it over—but if the result was the Crown Prince's suffering, it was more than worth enduring.
Time passed quickly. As the headquarters' sole idle man, eating, sleeping, and loafing, the days flew by.
During that stretch of freeloading I took walks with Penelia, looked in on the Mukgwangdae's training for the first time in a while, and shared meals with Father whenever he had a spare moment. In my heart I wanted to contact my lovers still at the Academy as well, but there had been no official declaration that the war was over, so I refrained. A soldier at war contacting his family for private reasons was a bit much.
While I was living that tearful not-quite-separated-family life, the Duke of Victory called a meeting.
"We return in three days."
Before the gathered leadership and title nominees, the Duke of Victory cut straight to the point. A truly beautiful main point: we were going home.
"The entire army will pass through the Hablem Duchy on its way to the Imperial Capital. His Majesty is preparing a grand triumphal ceremony, so take note."
At those words the faces of the leadership gathered in the tent brightened. If a swift return home were the only goal, the proper course would be to touch the Hablem Duchy and then scatter to their respective territories or garrisons—but if His Majesty himself was preparing a grand triumphal ceremony, that changed everything.
"We are most humbled. We merely did what was proper as His Majesty's subjects."
"Indeed. Thanks to His Majesty's grace, we shall all enjoy the honor of taking part in the triumph."
Laughter-laced conversation filled the tent. To nobles, a triumphal ceremony was nothing short of a once-in-a-lifetime event. Honor and rewards of no small weight would be bestowed—a most welcome occasion.
Because various circumstances had prevented a proper triumph after the last Great Subjugation War, some had worried this one might also be glossed over. That worry vanishing in an instant was reason enough for smiles.
Too big to gloss over.
Though the previous war had been larger in scale and damage, this one's symbolic weight was overwhelming. It was not merely a victory over nomads who "naturally" had to be subjugated—the nomads had elevated the Emperor as their Khan and offered up the North. An opportunity to proclaim the majesty of Emperor and Empire far and wide.
Decisively, the light casualties seemed to have pleased the Emperor. Last time, generals and commanders and corps commanders had died with perfect equality, and several legions had been smashed to pieces. This time the damage was blessedly light.
In any case, as the noise gradually settled, the Duke of Victory added:
"Furthermore, at the triumphal ceremony the title nominees will offer the title of Khan to His Majesty. Upon accepting it, His Majesty will simultaneously appoint the nominees as nobles of formal rank."
At the news that they would receive their titles in the most glorious of venues, the faces of the title nominees brightened this time.
"Congratulations. You will now be nobles recognized by all."
"Haha, even as a count you'll still acknowledge me, yes?"
"Of course. After the friendship you and I have built, how could I turn my back?"
The bonds forged rolling through the war together, and the calculation that maintaining ties with men about to become great lords was no bad thing, meant that not only the nominees but the leadership as well offered warm words of congratulation.
That those receiving titles were nomads? Such a trivial matter did not matter. A nomad count was still a count, and a nomad marquis was still a marquis. Unless one treated a nomad noble's title as one rank lower, ethnic difference was a minor issue.
Looking at it this way, the most open-minded beings of all turned out to be the nobles.
After reducing the Duke of Victory's report to writing, I rose from my seat. Remaining seated for too long strained the body; standing from time to time was good for work efficiency.
Yet only a few years ago I could sit all day without issue. Now even sitting had become a trial for this body—a lamentable thing.
Fortunate that it ended before I broke any further.
At the same time, relief washed over me. While I could still endure, while I could still lead the Empire by my own will, everything had come to an end.
The succession was secure, and internal turmoil had been settled. Now the external threat had been cut away and the territory expanded—what more could I wish for? If any mission remained, it was only to appoint the soon-to-be-born imperial grandchild as Imperial Grandson. That required nothing of me but the passage of time; in truth, everything was finished.
...Imperial Grandson.
A truly beautiful phrase. Unlike me, of collateral line, unlike the Crown Prince who was a bastard, that child would possess a legitimacy bestowed by heaven itself. Legitimate issue born of Crown Prince and Crown Princess, an Imperial Grandson—living authority itself.
An Empire that had not even filled three hundred years of history, staring down the fall of the nation. Decades spent fighting insufficient legitimacy to revive that Empire.
At the end of those years I could not give the Crown Prince legitimacy, but I could leave him a great Empire. And to the Imperial Grandson I could give everything.
The blessing of the Great Emperor.
I exhaled a small sigh and picked up a single document. Materials on the title nominees, reported by the Audit Department Chief through the Duke of Victory.
Truly a blessing.
A list of one marquis and twelve counts. Looking at that list, I could feel once more that my judgment had not been wrong.
The Audit Department Chief had, as I expected, granted titles for the national interest rather than private gain. He had selected the nominees with thorough efficiency. Having cross-checked the reports countless times, I was certain.
I had entrusted him fully with the marquis's seal; he could have passed it to a tribe that benefited him—yet there was no sign of private dealings with any particular tribe. The impression was strong that he had simply done the work ordered of him and washed his hands of it.
If only he had been born a little sooner.
Had a servant like the Audit Department Chief existed from the start of my reign, things would have been easier. The Minister of Palace Affairs was fully capable, but the chaos of those days was a demonic realm too much for a single limb to overcome.
...No. I should not be greedy. History overflows with rulers who fell for lack of even a servant like the Minister of Palace Affairs. The previous Emperor alone—
"Mmh."
The moment I thought of the previous Emperor, a headache found me by instinct. Emperors before him I did not even wish to recall.
I shook my head lightly and cast off the nightmare. Now was the time to think not of a terrible past, but of a glorious and radiant future. For example, the rewards to be bestowed upon a loyal subject who had returned after rendering great service.
The rewards for the Duke of Victory and the other nobles were clear enough. Precedent for rewarding generals who earned merit in war was more than sufficient.
What the Audit Department Chief would want as a reward...
But the Audit Department Chief had, in name, participated not as a general but as an auditor. He had earned a general's merit by slaying the enemy's ringleader, yet if I gave him the same rewards as a general I would be violating the pretext with my own hands. I would not give him less—but I must not give him the same.
There's just the thing.
After a moment's thought I drafted a new document. With the Northern nomads now embraced in the Empire's bosom, the timing was right as well.
And more than any wealth or honor, the Audit Department Chief would love this reward.