At Last
At last.
The cries of “Long live!” rang out for a long while. In this glorious hour when the Empire’s northern scourge had been conquered and the Emperor assumed the mantle of the nomads’ sovereign as well, a hero was born. No—six noble heroes, granted leave to bear the Imperial name itself, were born.
Of course, most of those shouting “Long live!” would have no idea who the six heroes even were. The Great Subjugation War was regarded as a conflict the Empire was always destined to win, and those men and women had been commoners, not nobles. People might know the Duke of Victory had led the campaign, but the name “Six Swords” would mean nothing to them. Unless they had seen the newly revised textbooks, that was only natural.
Their cheers, then, were less a celebration of heroes’ sacrifices finally repaid than simple fascination at the forging of new legends.
But it did not matter. From this day forward, every citizen, every soul of the Empire, would carry those names in their minds. The world might forget me—but it would never forget you.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”
I shouted the cry again, for what must have been the hundredth time—loud enough, I hoped, to reach all of you up in the sky, and the Emperor in the palace.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live the six heroes!”
Penelia and the Mukgwangdae beside me joined in. They knew the name Six Swords, and they knew exactly what those people had meant to me.
Seeing them, I smiled even more freely. The Fourth Department of the Audit Department that I had raised—our juniors in all but name—were paying their respects to you.
Today was a good day.
“Long live Ribnoman!”
Truly a good day.
After the triumphal ceremony ended, I wiped my eyes with the handkerchief Penelia shyly offered me. Without realizing it, I had shed a few tears. No wonder my eyes had felt so hot.
“Thank you.”
I pushed down the awkwardness as best I could and pulled Penelia into an embrace; she hugged me back just as tightly. The Mukgwangdae watching us with fond expressions made me a little self-conscious, but I did not let go. There was nothing improper about what I was doing.
That did not mean they had to start clapping, though. Even if I had nothing to be ashamed of, drawing every gaze in the vicinity was a bit much.
“So now we just report to the Ministry of Special Affairs?”
“Yes. Once we finish the return report, we will receive standby orders for the time being. In effect, it is leave.”
Still holding her, I asked the question and received the answer I had wanted.
Good. No matter how hard the Empire worked its civil servants, even they would not grind people who had just returned from the battlefield. The entire Mukgwangdae would be able to rest easy for a while. With Dorgon dead, there would be no reason for the Ministry’s forces to be stretched thin anyway.
“Once the report is done, stay at the manor with the others.”
Penelia nodded. News that I and the Mukgwangdae were going to war had left the household staff worried half to death. Since we had all returned alive, it would be good for everyone to share a meal and spend the night together.
“Then, Master, what about—”
“I have somewhere I need to go as well. It will be finished before sunset, so don’t worry.”
“Ah… yes. Understood…”
The dejected look on her face at the news we would be apart for a little while pained me, but there was no helping it.
Just before we entered the Imperial Capital, a summons from the Emperor had arrived through the communication orb: report to the palace once the ceremony was over. When the Emperor himself called, there was no refusing.
Besides, I had received an enormous gift from him. Even without a summons I would have had to go and offer my deepest thanks. I might hate bosses who piled work on me, but any decent human being owed gratitude to a benefactor.
“I’ll be going, then. If Father happens to arrive while I’m gone, tell him I’ll be back soon.”
I left her with that final instruction just in case. Penelia nodded with a resolute expression.
Somehow it looked as if she planned to drag him there herself if he did not come, but I pretended not to notice.
Even at the Imperial Palace the faint echoes of the cheering finally subsided. Granting the title of Ribnoman Count to no fewer than six people had clearly kept the fervor of the triumphal ceremony burning far longer than usual.
Not long after, the Audit Department Chief arrived.
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor. This servant, Karl Crassius, who has received Your Majesty’s grace, presents himself before the noble and magnificent Sun of the Empire.”
The moment he entered the study, the Audit Department Chief prostrated himself in formal salute. The even greater deference than usual was no mere impression.
Bestowing the Ribnoman Count titles upon them had indeed been the correct decision. The gift had almost certainly proven more effective than any title or fief granted to the man himself.
“Rise. When a subject who has rendered greater service than any other returns only to lower himself so deeply, it troubles Our heart.”
“I am humbled, Your Majesty.”
He carefully rose, then bowed his head once more. He had been permitted to stand, but not yet to raise his gaze; he would not dare look upon the Emperor’s countenance without leave.
The effect was so thorough it was almost startling. Permission to rise should have implied permission to lift his head as well—yet somehow he had become such a conservative subject.
The blood of his father runs true.
The thought of the Count of Tailglehen nearly lifted the corner of the Emperor’s mouth. Yes—being that man’s son, this was only to be expected. Blood would always tell.
There was nothing for it, then. He would simply have to treat the Audit Department Chief the way he treated the Count of Tailglehen.
“We have a command. Raise your head.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Only then did the Audit Department Chief look up. The Emperor pointed to the table; following the finger, the man’s eyes widened for a brief moment.
“To grant a subject the name of Ribnoman is to declare that his merit and devotion are worthy of being called pillars of the Imperial House itself. The six heroes We elevated to Ribnoman Counts this day were precisely such men and women.”
“Truly, they will rejoice at grace as vast as the heavens.”
The Emperor shook his head at the swift reply.
“It is not We who have bestowed grace upon them. They are the ones who bestowed grace upon the Imperial House.”
“Y-Your Majesty.”
The Audit Department Chief stammered in surprise, but the Emperor paid it no mind. Excessive honor for a living subject could be dangerous, yet to turn away from those who had laid down their lives for the Imperial House and the Empire was base. For the Empire to remain an empire, it must hold devotion and sacrifice in the highest regard.
No devotion is ever a matter of course; no sacrifice is ever light. That was the will of the Great Emperor who had set Heaven’s mandate aright.
“Those who receive the title of Ribnoman Count are honored by the Emperor himself with wine. This has been a beautiful custom since the days of the Great Emperor, and We shall follow it as well.”
The Audit Department Chief’s gaze returned to the table. Upon it lay seven leather wineskins—the wine to be bestowed upon the six Ribnoman Counts.
“Yet when the Ribnoman Count is deceased, it is also custom that the surviving kin receive the wine in their stead.”
With those words the Emperor walked to the table, took up one of the skins, and held it out.
“We can think of no one more fitting to stand in their place than you. Receive it on behalf of the heroes, as is right and proper.”
For a moment the Audit Department Chief said nothing. Then he bowed his head and forced out a single sentence.
“…I shall surely repay Your Majesty’s grace.”
“We shall look forward to it.”
The original recipients would receive theirs from the Audit Department Chief in due course.
My eyes had grown hot twice in a single day. I was not usually this tearful.
Embarrassing.
I roughly wiped the corners of my eyes and let out a sigh. Any later and I really might have broken down crying.
That would not do. A man who had come to deliver good news looking a wreck would only get mocked for it.
“I’m back again.”
After a brief cough to clear my throat, I spoke—to the six who had been waiting for me, the true protagonists of the triumphal ceremony, the heroes.
“The whole capital was in an uproar, so you already know, right? We won. This time we won completely.”
Completely. Every force that had raised its banner against the Empire was gone. The North had been gathered into the Empire’s arms, and the Emperor had secured the right to rule the nomads as Khan. The blood spilled for this dazzling achievement had been relatively little. Not none—but little.
“Dorgon is dead, too. Since I killed him with my own hands, I have no regrets.”
Dorgon, whose very existence had symbolized an unstable peace. Though his death had been little more than suicide, killing him in this war had turned that fragile peace into a complete one.
The peace you wanted—the peace we dreamed of—had arrived.
“…I think I can finally stand before you with my head held high.”
A soft laugh escaped me. After you died and Dorgon vanished, I had lived as a half-measure. An outsider who had stolen someone else’s body and still failed to achieve his purpose—a half-measure.
But now I could say I was no longer half of anything. I could say I was whole. Not an outsider, but a resident of this world.
“So I brought something good to celebrate. His Majesty bestowed it, so drink without holding back.”
With that I poured the wine from the leather skins onto the gravestones.
“This is rarer than Boyar Wine, so take it slow, you damn drunkard.”
First, to Gerard Bartna, Count of Ribnoman.
“I know you don’t drink much, but this is the good stuff, so bear with it.”
Next, to Oliver Crobien, Count of Ribnoman.
“You make sure you actually taste it while you drink. Once you’re drunk you can’t tell anything apart.”
Next, to Drake Schiller, Count of Ribnoman.
“There’s one each, so don’t just sit there spacing out—drink with us.”
Next, to Walter Frenaz, Count of Ribnoman.
“If you’re still having a hard time over there, drink this and hang in there.”
Next, to Idrid Reden, Count of Ribnoman.
“I love you. If we meet again in the next life, I’ll be the one to confess first then, too.”
Last of all, to Hecate Larid, Count of Ribnoman.
After offering a cup to each of them in turn, I sank down in front of the gravestones. The Emperor had given me seven, so there was one for me as well. We might as well toast.
“Take care of yourselves. I won’t come here to whine anymore, so don’t worry.”
Looking back, I had been quite a nuisance to them. Showing up in the middle of the night dead drunk, then falling asleep right there and camping out on the ground…
The one left alone—the youngest, no less—pulling those stunts must have left them at a loss and full of worry. I was nothing but sorry.
“…I’ll take care of myself, too. Happily—so happily you’ll see it.”
So I spoke with everything I had.
I would live so happily from now on that you would never need to worry again.
With that vow I held the wineskin out in front of me.
As if they were all still sitting right there.
