Pax Crefelofenica - 3
The soldiers’ steps toward the Imperial Capital could not have been lighter. They were not marching toward a battlefield where death might claim them, but returning to a place where the cheers of the multitudes awaited. Of course it was only natural.
Even so, a relatively light toll and an overwhelming victory did not change the fact that war was still war. There were soldiers whose faces remained dark from the unwanted farewells to fallen comrades, and others who lay in eternal rest upon the wagons. Sadly, no war can ever leave every soul happy.
Knowing that indelible shadow well, the commanders did everything in their power to ease the men’s burdens. The march was kept deliberately unhurried, and enough wine was issued to wet dry throats. The dead could not be raised, so the living had to be made as comfortable as possible—that was the best anyone could do.
Thank the heavens it’s quiet.
The fact that no trouble had erupted in a column mixed with both heartland men and northerners was itself proof of the commanders’ desperate efforts.
Just as there had been nomads who burned their lives away insisting they could never coexist with the Empire, there were no few imperial soldiers who still looked upon the nomads with open distaste. Specifically, those northern-born who had suffered under nomad raids, or the men of the Northern Army whose duty it was to guard the frontier.
That the atmosphere remained so calm even with so many men for whom the mere sight of a nomad was a trigger suggested they had poured every last drop of their rage into the war itself. Or perhaps it was simply the cool hand of reason, warning them that starting a brawl with nomads who had already surrendered would be disastrous.
Either way, it hardly matters.
Whatever the reason, so long as they did not actually start fighting one another, it was enough. It might sound a touch irresponsible, but results always outweigh process, do they not?
“This is my first time setting foot in the Empire proper, yet even a single provincial city’s prosperity reaches this height. I can already see how magnificent His Majesty’s rule must be.”
Thanks to that quiet, a mainland noble and a northern noble could converse without drawing any particular attention.
“Soon His Majesty’s rule will reach the North as well. One day this same prosperity will blanket the northern lands.”
“Just imagining it makes the heart race.”
Marquis Barandiga laughed with genuine anticipation, and Karl returned the smile. The North was so vast and barren that true prosperity would never arrive in the marquis’s own lifetime—but his descendants, at least, would enjoy the fruits as high nobles of the Empire. Karl decided to think of it as a long-term investment for the next generation.
“As the sole marquisate of the North, House Gurt will bear a great many duties for the region’s development.”
“Having received such boundless grace, it is only natural. I shall spare nothing of myself for His Majesty and the Empire.”
While exchanging these ordinary courtesies, Karl studied the marquis’s expression. There was a reason he had deliberately reopened the same polite formalities they had already traded many times in the North.
I need to bring up the sacred relic soon.
When the war ended he had given his verbal promise that the sacred relic would be handed over to Marquis Barandiga, the high priest. If the high priest possessed the relic, faith would deepen; if faith deepened, the power of the Eternal Blue Sky would grow, and the World Tree’s revival would be hastened. Or so he had calculated.
Yet the high priest—whose faith was nonexistent—had shown not the slightest reaction even when shown the relic. More precisely, he still had no idea it was a sacred relic. Handing it over under these circumstances would do nothing to hasten the World Tree’s revival. Better simply to offer it to the World Tree himself.
That’s right. That would be far better. I guarantee it.
The decisive factor was the Eternal Blue Sky herself, who was staging a furious protest inside his skull against any transfer whatsoever. There was simply no way he could hand it over.
But what in the world was he supposed to say? Even a verbal promise was still a promise; for an imperial envoy to break his word was thoroughly unseemly. And asking the high priest, “Mind if I just keep your sacred relic?” was equally awkward.
Of course the marquis would never leave the Empire’s fold merely because a promise had been withdrawn, but souring the relationship over something so trivial would be troublesome. Stack enough unfavorable impressions and one never knew what might explode later.
Maybe I should just give it—
No! Please don’t!
At the tearful, desperate cry he absently rubbed the back of his neck. If he ignored that plea and handed the relic over, she would sob and throw tantrums even while he slept. Of that he was certain.
No choice, then.
After long deliberation he decided to leave the matter in limbo for now. If he could neither give it to Marquis Barandiga nor claim it entirely as his own, then he would treat it as a long-term loan. For the moment that was the only answer.
“Incidentally, Marquis, there is something I must tell you regarding the sacred relic.”
“The sacred relic?”
Marquis Barandiga blinked several times before nodding belatedly.
What? Did this man actually forget the relic even existed?
That son of a bitch…
Unfortunately Karl was not alone in the thought; the Eternal Blue Sky’s resentful growl echoed through his mind.
“Now that you mention it, Count, I also have something to say to you about the relic.”
“Ah—please, go first.”
At the convenient coincidence Karl yielded the floor, and Marquis Barandiga continued in an utterly matter-of-fact tone.
“I shall not claim ownership of the sacred relic.”
“Pardon?”
What fresh nonsense was this?
“That the relic rests in the Count’s hands must be the will of the divine. A mere high priest cannot defy the will of the gods. Besides, what matters is that the relic exists in this world—not who happens to hold it.”
On the surface it was the statement of a selfless, merciful high priest; Karl could only nod blankly. Was he so casually abandoning the claim simply because he still had no idea it was a genuine sacred relic?
…Damn it.
It was entirely possible. Had it truly been a sacred relic, a high priest would never have yielded it so easily; if he regarded it as nothing more than an ordinary sword, he would feel no attachment at all. He might even feel as though he were stealing another man’s property and prefer to refuse.
Karl suddenly felt like a fool for having agonized over how to break his promise.
They arrived at the Imperial Capital. The expeditionary force that had marched north vowing to conquer the wilds now returned in triumphant glory.
As they passed through the city gates with proud bearing, a rain of flowers fell upon the great avenue leading to the central square. Citizens lining both sides of the road, and others leaning from windows, scattered blossoms and roared their welcome.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live the Empire!”
“Glory to the Empire!”
“Great Emperor, protect the Empire!”
Cheers praising the glory of the Emperor and the Empire rang out without end—toward the sovereign who had achieved so great a feat, toward the Empire that had once again written a chapter of victory, and toward the Great Emperor who surely watched over them all.
With every lofty cry of praise, pride etched itself deeper into the faces of the expeditionary force. They were the ones who had, by the Emperor’s command, forged that achievement and that victory. They were the ones who had helped make the present Emperor a great one.
Citizens who had already been shouting themselves hoarse redoubled their cheers the instant they saw the unmistakably nomadic ranks. The imperial family’s hired claqueurs no doubt played a part, yet that column itself was living proof that the Empire’s Mandate of Heaven remained unshaken; the reaction was only natural.
Oh.
Before he realized it, the imperial crest had been painted across the sky. The magicians, too, were performing splendidly from places unseen.
Basking in that grand welcome, they reached the square and beheld the Emperor standing there, attended by the Imperial Knights and surrounded by prostrating citizens. Behind him stood even the Crown Prince and Crown Princess; save for Ainter, who remained at the Academy, every member of the imperial family had gathered.
That was surprising enough. The Emperor himself had come out first to greet his subjects?
They really are pulling out all the stops.
Ordinarily a triumph ended with the commander reaching the palace gates after passing through the square and presenting the victory report to the Emperor. That was custom not only in the Empire but across the entire continent. For the Emperor to ignore it so completely meant his satisfaction must be extraordinarily high.
Well, this war had finally ended the ages-long conflict between settled peoples and nomads. Breaking one mere custom was hardly unforgivable.
“We present ourselves before His Majesty the Emperor!”
At that magnificent reception the Duke of Victory, riding at the head of the column, hastily dismounted and prostrated himself.
“We present ourselves before His Majesty the Emperor!”
The entire expeditionary force followed suit in a wave. To lift one’s head insolently when the Emperor had personally come forth to honor their deeds was the act of a traitor.
“You may rise.”
No fool would deliberately make himself a traitor while the Emperor’s satisfaction still rode high.
The Emperor praised the superb command of the Duke of Victory as supreme commander of the expedition, the valor of the nobles and soldiers under him, and the loyal chieftains who had voluntarily entered the Empire’s embrace.
Nor were the words empty. He declared that every man who had taken part in the campaign—those who had, regrettably, lost their lives or been forced to leave the army—would receive clear and certain rewards. Rewards announced at so glorious a triumph could never be meager; the expeditionary force’s morale soared to the heavens.
One might wonder what use soaring morale was once the war was already over, yet it was still better than wiping their mouths after the meal and triggering an imperial version of the Bonus Army.
“Though we boasted of serving the sky, we were but fools who wandered without knowing the sky’s true will—until at last we beheld it. Thus do these humble shepherds of the frontier offer the title of Khan to the most exalted one who upholds the will of the sky. We beg you to look with pity upon these shepherds and accept us!”
The subsequent ceremony in which the designated nobles were acclaimed as Khans drew awe and admiration from the watching citizens.
To those who knew the truth it was a carefully staged performance, yet to the ignorant populace it looked exactly as though the nomads had been overwhelmed by the Emperor’s majesty. It was an illusion—yet Karl could have sworn he saw a deep smile beneath the Emperor’s impassive face.
“We had thought the nomads nothing but barbarians ignorant of courtesy and propriety. Only after beholding you have We realized that was a misconception. How can any people that produces men so wise and high-spirited be called barbarous? It was merely that a few savage and foolish ones ran wild as though they alone spoke for all nomads—truly a lamentable thing.”
“We are overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s grace.”
“In accordance with your wishes, We—as Emperor of Crefelofen and Khan of the North—shall embrace you and your brethren. This We shall do with no less love than We bear for the Empire and Our people.”
With that declaration the Emperor personally invested the designated candidates as titled nobles. The investiture proceeded exactly according to the final list Karl had submitted; smiles never left the faces of those named.
A relief. Had the Emperor muttered “Why so many?” and started trimming the list, things would have grown awkward.
“…The strife between Empire and North has been long indeed. A mere five years ago rebels still raised great hosts against the imperial will. That proper order has at last been established in the North today is a joy beyond measure.”
Having completed the investitures, the Emperor spoke as though preparing to bring the triumph to a close.
“Yet this order did not spring up overnight. Countless sacrifices and dedications that came before have brought about the peace we enjoy now.”
At those words the festive atmosphere of the square gradually quieted. Everyone who knew anything knew that the Emperor always closed a speech by recalling past devotion. This time, too, he would end with a call to remember the sacrifices of the past and march into the future—
“Regrettably, We who stand upon those sacrifices and dedications have failed to give the fallen heroes the recompense they deserved.”
—or so Karl thought, until…
The sudden swerve set the quieting square buzzing once more.
Failed to give proper recompense? Coming from the Emperor of Crefelofen, who had made clear rewards and punishments and advancement by merit the very pillars of his reign, it was a rather dangerous statement.
“We could not lift Our head for shame. Yet the North’s entry into the Empire’s embrace was due in no small measure to those heroes’ merit. We can no longer remain sunk in shame and turn Our eyes from reality. Even now, We shall give them the recompense they are due.”
So proclaiming, the Emperor stretched out a hand; the Crown Prince behind him carefully offered a single scroll.
“In ages past there was a Heaven-Defier. A great evil who gathered arrogant and foolish rebels, flouting the will of Heaven, and rose against the Empire.”
Unrolling the scroll, the Emperor continued in his usual even voice.
“Yet because the Mandate of Heaven still rested with the Empire, the great evil fell and the proper order was restored. There were heroes who broke that great evil. We shall regard them as the Heroes of Ribnoman.”
Karl’s face, however, was far from even.
“To Gerard, former Team Leader of the First Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Batna and name him Count. To Oliver, former Team Leader of the Second Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Crovien and name him Count. To Drake, former Team Leader of the Third Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Schiller and name him Count. To Walter, former Team Leader of the Fifth Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Frenaz and name him Count. To Idrid, former Team Leader of the Sixth Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Reden and name him Count.”
He simply could not comprehend the words the Emperor was speaking.
“And lastly, to Hecate, former Team Leader of the Seventh Team, Fourth Division of the Audit Department, We grant the fief of Larid and name her Count. These six titles are non-hereditary, yet each shall be styled Count of Ribnoman.”
Count of Ribnoman. A title that took its name from the imperial house itself—effectively the highest honor the Empire could bestow upon any individual.
You upheld the imperial house; therefore the imperial house shall forever hold you as its nobles.
“To the heroes who sacrificed themselves for the Empire asking nothing in return, We at last give the recompense they deserve. In place of foolish Us, remember the Empire’s heroes for all eternity.”
Having detonated the bomb in an instant, the Emperor turned as though nothing at all had happened. Escorted by the Crown Prince, the Crown Princess, and the Imperial Knights, he made for the palace.
Even watching that departure, Karl could find no words. His mind simply refused to turn.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”
Then a cheer erupted from the front of the ranks.
It was the Duke of Victory.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live Ribnoman!”
The cheers spread. They spread with unnatural speed, as though everyone had already agreed upon the cue.
“Long live Ribnoman! Long live the Six Heroes!”
“O heroes, protect the Empire!”
Faster and faster the cry raced outward.
Ha.
A hollow laugh escaped him. For some reason his eyes burned.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live Ribnoman!”
Yet his own mouth was already shouting the cheer.