Two Titles, You See - 1
The Advisor and Irina were sharing a single cookie. I watched that wondrous sight for a moment, then quietly turned my head away.
It was a heartwarming scene of lovers sharing affection, but not one that outsiders ought to stare at openly. That was why I simply looked aside without a single remark or teasing jab.
Truth be told, it was a little embarrassing. I knew full well about the relationship between the Advisor and Irina, yet I never imagined they would display that kind of affection so casually. Simple contact would have been one thing, but this was a bit much.
Is the Empire just that aggressive about romance?
The thought even crossed my mind for a second. A reasonable hypothesis, really: that Imperial culture valued love between partners more highly than the eyes of others.
It was a fairly plausible theory. My homeland, the Uven Alliance, and the Empire sat at opposite ends of the continent, after all. A considerable distance. Differing cultures between Uven and the Empire would hardly be strange.
Wrong.
I had to scrap that hypothesis almost at once. Luise, who had just come back carrying a fresh cookie, froze solid right where she stood. Temporary Advisor Teacher, who had been giggling, stared down at the cookie in her hand as if wrestling with some deep dilemma.
Even Lady Margeta and the Demon Duke showed similar reactions, which meant the Advisor’s behavior was considered outrageous even by Imperial standards.
So it’s the Advisor who’s the odd one.
After careful consideration, that was the conclusion I reached. It wasn’t that Imperials were particularly forward; the Advisor himself was simply outrageous. I had nearly misunderstood the entire culture of the Empire.
And if it was the Advisor, even outrageous conduct was something I could accept. He had only just risked his life on a military campaign; it was easy enough to believe that his tender feelings toward his lovers had only grown stronger while he was away. Longing for ordinary life always swells in the middle of danger. That much was only natural.
Yes, natural. Perfectly natural, and yet…
But what about you?
I found myself glancing at Erich without meaning to. Fine, let’s chalk the Advisor’s flashy displays of affection up to the campaign. Even before he went off to war, though, the Advisor had already found lovers and shown them affection, however modest. He had behaved like a normal person.
Erich, on the other hand, was not normal. Even with everyone around him pushing and prodding, he remained as stubborn as a pine tree.
It’s not as if different blood runs in their veins.
If the two of them had been complete strangers, or if the Advisor and Erich had simply looked too different, I might have written Erich off as a tragic mutant.
But the Advisor and Erich were blood brothers. Right after Luise had kicked us aside and started taking an interest in the Advisor, he had shown the exact same cluelessness Erich was displaying now. Anyone could see they shared the same temperament as kin.
In that case, shouldn’t Erich be finding a lover soon, just like the Advisor? Why was that guy still acting like the Advisor of old?
Pitiful.
The moment I looked at Sera sitting beside Erich, I nearly sighed out loud. While everyone else was flustered by the Advisor’s public affection or quietly averting their eyes, Sera was watching the scene as if she were envious.
Then she would steal a glance at Erich, look back at the Advisor and Irina, and glance at Erich again.
Pitiful. There really was no other word for it.
“Uu, urrrgh…”
In the middle of all that, I heard Luise’s voice, sounding as if she were gritting her teeth, and hurriedly turned toward her. Watching someone else spend cozy time with a cookie she herself had baked? Enough to make anyone’s eyes roll back in rage and jealousy—
Ah.
I quietly closed my eyes. She wasn’t gritting her teeth at all. She simply had a cookie in her mouth.
“It’s awfully cold today, somehow.”
I heard Ryutis muttering under his breath, but I ignored him.
I was feeling much the same way, after all.
There had been a bit of a commotion, but the welcome-back party wrapped up without further incident.
As long as nobody got hurt, it counts as smooth.
I sat on the edge of the bed and began rationalizing it to myself. The other lovers had been startled and the club members had looked away, sure, but there had been no physical casualties. That made it a successful conclusion.
I would admit that I had gone a little far in front of a bunch of teenagers still growing up, but considering everything I hadn’t been able to do for them until now, this level of compensation felt about right.
“You’d better come back thinking hard about what you’re going to do for me and Penelia! If it’s anything half-hearted, I’m locking you in the basement and never letting you out!”
In exchange, the vacation was probably going to get a little rough, but that was the karma I had to bear, so I decided to accept it with humility.
I was worried she might dig her heels in and refuse to leave.
A sigh of relief slipped out before I knew it. From Eri’s point of view, the basement-lockup declaration had been only natural. If anything, I ought to be thanking her for returning to the Imperial Capital so obediently.
If she had simply flopped down and declared that her side was cold and she couldn’t go alone, there would have been nothing to do but soothe her. Even if I had called Penelia in the capital as reinforcements and raised a ruckus, I wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on.
So I was grateful, and sorry. The kid had gotten a little more spoiled, maybe, but at least her heart seemed generous.
…Could you even use “spoiled” and “generous heart” for the same person, though?
Whatever.
Thinking it over carefully, when had Eri ever been normal? No matter how peculiar or strange something was, if the person involved was Eri, it could happen.
Having convinced myself of that, I alone took out the communication orb from my coat. Calling this late at night was hardly polite, but this was someone who only finished work once night fell, so there was no help for it. Better to call at night than interrupt during office hours.
- Karl?
My guess proved right; an answer came back not long after I opened the line.
“Sorry for the hour, Father.”
- No, it’s fine. I just finished work, as it happens.
I started with an apology, and Father waved it off as if it were nothing.
Looking at him, I couldn’t quite erase the bitter feeling. To still be handling work this late even with retirement right around the corner… just how punishing a job was it, being a member of the Imperial Assembly?
At least once Erich graduated he would finally be free of that suffering, so that was a relief. Erich was young; a little hardship would do him good.
- So what is it? I heard you returned to the Academy today. You ought to be spending time with your wives rather than calling your old man.
“I’ve spent plenty. I only just got back to the dormitory myself.”
- There is no such thing as “plenty” when it comes to time between husband and wife. The more the better—remember that.
For a second I pictured Father getting chased out by Mother, but I forcibly shoved the image into the far recesses of my memory. It would be terribly rude to entertain such thoughts in front of a father offering precious advice.
“I’ll keep it in mind. Still, since I’ve already called, please let it slide just for today.”
- All right, if it can’t be helped. Go on and speak.
So I deliberately put on a bit of a show, and Father answered with a faint smile of his own.
“I want to inherit the title.”
At those words, Father’s smile vanished in an instant.
He hadn’t turned stern, exactly. He was simply steadying himself, taking my major decision seriously.
- As I told you before, there is no need to receive the title right away. His Majesty the Retired Emperor will tolerate the delay until early next year.
“I’m fine. I want to complete the succession by the end of this month at the latest.”
- Is that so.
Faced with my firm reply, Father quietly closed his eyes. Having confirmed that my resolve was solid, he seemed to be checking the schedule in his head.
I felt a little guilty for dumping the huge event of title succession onto Father right after he had finished Assembly work for the day, but I was sincere about wanting the inheritance finished this month at the latest.
It has to be done before the wedding.
As Father said, the absolute deadline for the succession was early next year. Given how sudden the inheritance was, the Retired Emperor would understand delaying Father’s retirement that far and no farther.
But early next year was when I had to marry Mar—Mu-ryeo Mar. If the title succession ceremony and the wedding overlapped, either the succession or the wedding would get buried, and neither was an event that could afford to be buried.
I had no intention of postponing the wedding just for a title, so of course the succession had to be moved up. Mar mattered more than any title.
- …True enough. For the sake of my first daughter-in-law, it would be best to settle it at once.
Before long Father reached the same conclusion I had and nodded.
- We should be able to hold it as early as this weekend. It won’t run past the end of the month, so don’t worry.
“Yes, I understand.”
As long as it didn’t run late, any date was fine with me.
With Karl’s farewell, the light of the communication orb faded.
A succession ceremony…
A smile rose of its own accord. The title succession had already been decided the moment His Majesty the Retired Emperor commanded it, yet actually hearing Karl say he would take it still filled me with fresh emotion.
And with it came a strange mix of feelings—lighthearted yet hollow, anxious yet reassured. This was the moment the master of House Crassius changed: three hundred years of history, the house appointed Imperial Count by Eimanka II. The moment I, still only in my forties, set down three centuries of history and passed it to my son in his twenties.
If I did not feel lighthearted after setting down the burden, I would be heartless; if I did not feel hollow after laying it down before I died, I would be irresponsible.
If I did not feel anxious after handing the load to a son barely in his twenties, I would be without affection; if I did not feel reassured because that son was reliable, I would be without trust.
You’ll do well, I know.
That strange tangle of feelings gradually tipped toward lightness and reassurance. If it was Karl—if it was my son—he would surely manage.
…So now he’s a dual count?
I smiled again despite myself. Karl already held the Countship of Wiridia. An Imperial Count was still classified as a count, which meant Karl had become a heavyweight who held two countships at once without being either a duke or a marquis.
It was truly astonishing. Once one reached high nobility, one almost never held a title equal in rank to the house’s primary title. A duke holding another dukedom, a marquis holding another marquisate—that would be strange.
Yet Karl had done it. It was something of a loophole using the Imperial Count rank, but he had become a high noble who simultaneously held a title equal to his house’s primary one.
Perhaps the primary title itself will change someday.
Yes. If the Countship of Wiridia were ever elevated to a marquisate, the primary title of House Crassius might have to change as well.
House Crassius, Marquisate…
I rolled the unfamiliar name over my tongue alone, then let out a short laugh.
It was pure fantasy. Karl’s elevation was only a strong possibility, not a certainty. At the moment his prestige was enough to brush against a marquisate, but no one could say what the future held.
And yet, for some reason, I had the distinct feeling that someday Karl would find himself wrestling with exactly that problem.