A Human on the Throne
I had thought that once the abdication ceremony ended I could clock out immediately, but that was the naive delusion of a greenhorn without enough years under his belt. The real schedule began after the ceremony.
A giant who had steered the Empire for decades had stepped aside, and the new Emperor now had to fill that void. Naturally, as the newly crowned sovereign, he needed to prove to the entire continent that he could fill it completely. Fail at that, and unrest would spread at home while foreign powers quietly waited for their chance.
Which was why, far from going home, I had been glued to the Emperor’s side like a matching set from the day of the abdication until now. Days on end stuck next to a man I already found unbearable even in brief encounters.
Fuck.
The one silver lining was that it was not just the two of us. All five Dukes were tagging along as well. If it had been only him and me, void or no void, I would have already deserted.
So I sat there watching the Emperor on the throne while nobles prostrated themselves before him and swore their loyalty, and I heaved a silent sigh. Those people would finish their oaths and head straight home. Why, then, was I still here?
…I already knew the answer. As godfather to the Crown Princess who sat first in the line of succession, and as the eccentric who could split the heavens with a sword, my presence at the newly enthroned Emperor’s side lent weight to his authority. Conversely, if I were absent, whispers would spread that something was amiss between us.
Better to put up with the nuisance of sticking close than to have to clean up that kind of anxiety later. Politics really was a headache and a bitch of a job.
“Your loyalty has pleased even the Retired Emperor. So long as you do not first forsake your duty, We too shall show you unchanging trust. Continue to serve the Imperial House and the Empire.”
“We shall surely live up to Your Majesty’s trust.”
In any case, the Emperor returned the customary reply to the nobles—more precisely, to the great lords of the East—after their oaths of fealty.
Of course, at a public event like this, nothing put people more at ease than a purely ceremonial answer. Any other reply would send the nobles’ minds racing into overdrive. There was no need to make them start scheming from the very beginning of a reign.
If there was something he truly wanted to say, a private audience would more than suffice.
“The great lords’ oaths of loyalty are concluded.”
After the eastern lords bowed deeply and withdrew, the Duke of Victory, who had been standing in attendance to the Emperor’s left, spoke.
At those words the Emperor’s expression eased somewhat as he nodded. High officials of the capital’s administration, the Imperial Counts, and the great lords scattered across the Empire—every fire that had needed immediate extinguishing could now be considered put out.
Next up the mid- and small-scale lords and the military, then?
Urgent fires only, of course. Far more people still waited than had already finished.
“Those loyal subjects who rushed all the way to the capital deserve time to rest. We shall pause the audiences for now.”
“Truly a sagacious decision, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor, too, seemed to have considered the throng still remaining; after a brief silence he declared a recess.
Honestly, an oath of loyalty was not some neighborhood mart sale, so the decision was only natural. Keep the rotation going without a break and even those offering their loyalty would start to feel strange. It would be a shame if their devotion began to feel like leftover clearance stock.
At the Emperor’s declaration of rest, the Dukes who had been holding the atmosphere near the throne began to disperse this way and that. I, too, was about to go find a corner and—
“The Minister of the Inspectorate Ministry will remain. We have something important to discuss.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
Son of a bitch.
Was the sight of me taking even a short break that intolerable?
I quietly closed my eyes as certain Dukes casually popped flasks into their mouths or pulled out cigars on their way out, and as Beatrix’s retreating back hesitated and cast furtive glances my way.
Should I just punch him once?
The thought was entirely serious. Less than a week had passed since I swore loyalty; I could cancel the loyalty contract with no penalty. Cancel it, land one clean hit, then swear the oath again—would that not work?
I knew it was a mad idea, yet my fist kept twitching. If I did not do it now, the chance would never come again.
No—strictly speaking there was no chance even now, but I was perfectly capable of rationalizing it to myself.
“At last I can breathe. Meeting people without pause had grown a little stifling.”
Regardless of my murderous thoughts, the Emperor let out a small sigh and slumped back against the throne. He looked exactly like a head of household who had just finished work and come home.
The sight nearly dragged a curse out of me by instinct. You find it stifling, and my exhaustion is somehow the black ox’s passive skill? Spare a thought for the subordinate stuck alone with his boss.
“You have labored greatly, Your Majesty.”
The words that left my mouth, however, were nothing like my true feelings. No matter how much of a bastard one’s superior might be, a civil servant’s destiny was never to show it on the surface.
“How could I alone have suffered? The Minister and the Dukes also worked hard simply remaining at their posts.”
And knowing that, the bastard still held only me back—which made it even worse.
Perhaps that thick resentment and fury showed in my eyes, because the Emperor let out a soft laugh and continued.
“The Dukes are rather advanced in years, are they not? Even the youngest among them, the Wise Duke, is in her forties. We who are still in our twenties ought to show some consideration.”
The appeal to age momentarily sealed my lips.
Cowardly use of facts.
It was true that the youngest Duke was in her forties and the eldest well past eighty. Even an Emperor would have found it awkward to keep holding those elders in place.
Fine. Given the times, the young ones should take on a little more hardship. The instinct for respect toward elders still ran in my blood.
“And as I just said, there is something important I wished to discuss with the Minister alone.”
With those words the Emperor drew a small flask from his robes. Two of them, in fact.
…?
What the fuck.
Why was a liquor bottle coming out of the imperial robes?
“Take it. Just enough for a mouth rinse—no need to worry about getting drunk.”
“Ah, yes.”
I was startled for a moment, but I quickly pulled myself together and accepted the flask.
Having already been tempered by the Wise Duke, I did not get rattled by something of this level. I had simply flinched because an unexpected person had produced liquor from an unexpected place.
I let out a quiet snort of laughter as I watched the Minister accept the flask with a dazed expression. Even I had never imagined I would one day sit on the throne and drink vodka straight from the bottle. And a rather fierce one at that.
Yet this was the place that made such unimaginable behavior possible. It sounded like an excuse, but it was the simple truth. Anyone who claimed otherwise could say so after sitting on the throne themselves.
Even braced for it, this is still quite something.
I took a quiet sip and ordered my thoughts. The weight carried by the name of Emperor, a future that would never be peaceful—I had prepared myself for everything. I had sworn I would still go forward.
Yet the reality I faced once I actually sat upon the throne—with the imperial crown upon my head—was harsh. Only a few days had passed, yet the mental burden I felt in that short span was considerable.
I had to manipulate and manage the nobles who had sworn loyalty to me the way Father once had. Even a single word, a single gesture, had to be laden with meaning. Amid fiercely shifting international affairs I had to display the Empire’s dignity and secure both profit and justification.
I had experienced all of that in the space of a few days. I had felt it keenly while watching nobles bow their heads before me, while watching envoys whose mouths spoke congratulations and friendship while their eyes spun busily.
“I will cast nothing aside.”
The words I had spoken to the Retired Emperor at the abdication ceremony came back to me. A kind of rebellion—that even while bearing the weight of the Emperor, I would keep moving forward while still retaining the emotions of a human being rather than becoming the entity called Emperor.
Remembering that declaration—which had been, in effect, the first act of defiance I had ever shown him—brought another smile to my lips.
What a grand dream.
Though I do not respect the Retired Emperor’s methods, I revere his achievements. If I had ascended in his place in those days, I am not even certain I could have raised this Empire again.
And yet, standing before him, I had boldly declared, “I will not become like you.” A man who could not even guarantee he would reach the heights the Retired Emperor had attained even if he cast everything aside—and I had proudly boasted.
“Minister.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I am a different sort of man from the Retired Emperor.”
Yes. Different. Far too different.
“Do you know why I accepted Ainter?”
“…Though His Highness Ainter, unlike the Second Prince, maintained neutrality, and Your Majesty’s clemency—”
“It was because I was swayed by emotion.”
Emotion. Unlike the Retired Emperor, I had handled a matter of the Imperial House for no reason other than feeling.
“Because my position as Crown Prince was solid? Because Ainter was no longer a threat? It was not any such political calculation. It was an emotional one.”
The reason I restored Ainter as a member of the Imperial House was simple. The Empress was pregnant with the Crown Princess, and I restored him because I fretted over what the child who would one day be born might say.
Because I could not bear the thought of the Crown Princess someday looking at Ainter and asking, “Father, why do you not get along with Uncle?” and finding myself unable to open my mouth.
“It was far too emotional a decision. It is fortunate that Ainter is a harmless younger brother without ambition. Had I made such a choice while keeping an ambitious brother close, I would have raised a future calamity for the Imperial House and the Empire with my own hands.”
I closed my eyes. Having spoken so candidly, I felt lighter.
This was also why I had declared before the Retired Emperor that I would cast nothing aside, and why I could not respect his methods. I already knew I was a man who could not move by pure reason alone. That was probably why I had forced myself to reject his path and resolve to walk my own.
Otherwise it would be the same as admitting I was unfit to be Emperor, unfit to be a leader. The same as admitting I could not lead this Empire.
At least I have the Minister. That is a relief.
Truly a relief. If I poured this out to the Empress she would only worry, and if I told my father-in-law it would eventually reach her ears anyway.
Other family? Should I speak of it to Ainter, whom I nearly killed, or to the Crown Princess who still only babbles?
Friends? In the days when I was the First Prince in name only, waiting for death, I attended the Academy and made none.
Which was why it had to be the Minister. Only to the Minister—my tight-lipped, trustworthy partner—could I say such things.
“And yet with that nature I told the Retired Emperor: I will walk the path of the Emperor in my own way. I will be a different kind of Emperor from you.”
I opened my eyes again and turned my gaze to the Minister.
“In your eyes, Minister, can I become an Emperor? The kind who brings peace to the Empire and its subjects, as the Retired Emperor did?”
The Minister could not open his mouth. Of course not—those were hardly suitable words for a newly crowned Emperor to speak to a subject. Perhaps he even heard them as a test of loyalty.
I was only sorry. I had lightened my own heart and in return placed too heavy a burden on my subject.
Embarrassed, I turned my gaze forward again. Still, having spoken freely, I definitely felt more at—
“You will most likely never become an Emperor like the Retired Emperor.”
?
At the unexpected answer I looked back at the Minister. I had not even been looking for an answer in the first place.
“His Majesty the Retired Emperor seemed a man born to be a sovereign. He moved thinking only of reason and rationality. Honestly, I do not believe Your Majesty will ever become an Emperor like him.”
Even under my gaze the Minister continued without flinching. His tongue was moving with an unnerving brilliance far beyond the usual.
“But is there any need for you to become an Emperor like the Retired Emperor?”
“What?”
I found myself countering without thinking. Was there a need to become such an Emperor?
Of course there was. Emperors as capable as him had been rare before and would be rare again. As the one who succeeded him, I naturally had to strive to become like him.
“His Majesty the Retired Emperor, who spent his entire life moving for the Empire, abdicated to Your Majesty. It was not an unavoidable transfer of power—he judged it for himself.”
Yet the Minister’s thoughts seemed different; he drained the remaining liquor in the flask in one go and continued evenly.
“He must have decided that this Empire may now be ruled not by an Emperor who has cast everything aside, but by a human who will protect everything. The Retired Emperor I knew would have endured even as an immortal if it meant harm to the Empire.”
At those words I could only stare blankly at the Minister, unable to answer.
An Empire that may be ruled by a human.
I repeated the phrase to myself several times.
A statement that did not divide Emperor from human, that regarded even the Emperor as human. A method the Retired Emperor had neither chosen nor been able to choose.
…An Empire ruled by one who chose the path of a human rather than the path of the Emperor.
“That is the Empire you will lead.”
It was not the words I had spoken to the Retired Emperor that came back to me, but the words he had spoken to me.
Laughter burst out of me before I knew it.
Watching the Emperor suddenly begin to laugh sent a chill down my spine.
Did I go too far?
Reason returned a beat too late. Under normal circumstances this would never have happened. If I wanted to dig into him I would have packaged it as carefully as possible; speaking so bluntly was practically madness.
But damn it—the liquor he had handed me “just for a mouth rinse” had set both my throat and my mind on fire. Even the vodka I had once drunk by chance before the possession had not been this fierce. Had someone poured actual fire into the bottle?
In any case, my mind had been swallowed by alcohol beyond imagination, and I had ended up countering the Emperor’s complaints with a full documentary-style rebuttal. Right now I felt grateful that it was only the two of us.
…Is that actually a good thing?
Looking at the Emperor, who was still simply laughing, my hands began to tremble.
Still, if I played up the drunkenness hard enough, perhaps I could avoid disciplinary action on grounds of temporary mental impairment…?