Two Titles, You See - 2
With Father’s firm assurance, I should be able to inherit the Countship of Tailglehen by the end of this month at the latest. Father isn’t the sort to blurt things out unless he’s certain; he holds his tongue when he’s unsure.
So now it’s Karl Crassius of Tailglehen.
I pulled the business card from my coat as I rolled the newly lengthened full name around in my mind. I hadn’t even had this card made all that long ago, and already I was going to need a new one. That was budget too, of course.
A nuisance, but there was no helping it. A noble with multiple titles could attach only one of them to his name. There were people out there who would need a full ten minutes just to get through their full name if they strung every title on like ornaments, so the rule made perfect sense.
And that single title had to be the family’s principal one, which meant wiping Wiridia from the card and writing Tailglehen in its place.
I’d only just gotten used to it.
It was a strange feeling. I’d finally grown accustomed to the full name while staying in Wiridia lately—and now I had to change the one I’d only just gotten used to? What was I, some three-surname bastard?
…At least this should be the last time.
The one comfort was that this would be the final nickname change.
Once I inherited the Countship of Tailglehen, there would be no more titles left to receive and no more reason to change the name. The only real variable would be if the Countship of Wiridia were elevated to a Marquisate—but even if I became Marquis of Wiridia, I would still keep Tailglehen as the principal title.
Honestly, the foundation of the Crassius family was the Imperial Count title. An ordinary countship could rise or fall depending on circumstances, but an Imperial Countship stayed fixed until the Empire itself collapsed.
Comfortable. Nice.
That unchanging steadfastness through the years—it had the solid reliability of a civil servant’s job security.
The next day, the moment the club members gathered, I brought up the title succession. I told them I might have to step away briefly this month for the inheritance, so they should keep it in mind.
Father knew I was grinding away at the Academy, so he would do his best to schedule it for a weekend, but you never knew. I was prepared to move on a weekday if it came to that.
“Already? I thought you said there was no need to rush.”
Erich tilted his head as if the news had caught him off guard. As a member of the Crassius family himself, he already knew the succession had been decided—and he also knew it could be put off for a while without issue.
Hearing me suddenly declare that I would take the title “within the month” was bound to surprise him.
“If I don’t do it now, I don’t think I’ll have the time. It has to be finished by early next year at the latest—because that’s when I’m getting married.”
“Ah. That’s true.”
Pulling out a justification that was practically a cheat code made Erich accept it at once. Marriage was a major event, after all.
I glanced past him toward Mar and found her wearing a dreamy little smile. The moment she heard the word “marriage,” she had probably already started imagining mini-Karls and mini-Mars in her head.
It made me curious. If the black-hair genes of the Crassius line collided with the red-hair genes of the Valenti family, which side would win? We’d probably need at least three kids before we could start comparing.
“Well, I don’t know exactly when it’ll be, but take care while you’re gone. Even if you leave on a weekday, the members and I will be fi—”
“You’re coming with me. What are you talking about?”
“Huh?”
Erich, who had been calmly offering an early farewell, froze solid.
The reaction made me feel a little sorry, but if I was going to the territory to inherit the title, he had to come too. Because it was a family milestone and we ought to celebrate together? Because rumors of a feud would start flying if the younger brother skipped the elder brother’s succession ceremony?
Those reasons existed, but the decisive one was separate.
“When Father retires, you’ll be receiving a title yourself.”
Erich was also a protagonist of the succession. In addition to the Countship of Tailglehen, Father held several baronies, and one of them was earmarked for Erich.
It was only natural. If you passed on some titles and kept others, it wouldn’t be a complete retirement. Everyone’s eyes got dazzled by the glittering name “Imperial Count,” but the other baronies were waiting for new masters as well.
“Oh! So you’re becoming a titled noble too? Congratulations!”
Ryutis offered his congratulations to Erich, who was still standing there blankly as if he had only just realized his own future.
It almost sounded like a jab, but it was genuine congratulations. Ryutis was the type to mock you to your face if he was going to mock you at all; he wasn’t the sort to snipe from the side.
“A titled noble in your teens. It gladdens me to see the pillars that will support the Empire growing younger.”
Even Ainter added his praise for Erich’s elevation to titled nobility.
Congratulations indeed. How many barons in the world received congratulations from both royalty and the imperial family upon their elevation? The title itself might be the lowest of the five ranks, but the honor was something even a count would envy.
I, of course, was not envious. A proper older brother didn’t get jealous of his younger brother’s glory. Naturally.
“If there’s a particular barony you want among them, just say so. For my little brother, I can yield that much.”
“…Can I just not receive any of them?”
After a long silence Erich finally opened his mouth, and I smiled faintly.
“Pick one before I start offering to give you the countship instead.”
I was fairly sure Erich muttered something unprintable under his breath just then, but I let it slide.
I had forgotten. We called the Crassius family an Imperial Count family so often, and we called the family head the Count of Tailglehen so constantly, that I had completely forgotten.
That once you became a high noble of count rank or higher, you usually held multiple titles. That the family head, who ranked among the upper tier even of Imperial Counts, held numerous baronies.
And he only has two children, at that.
If there had been a whole crowd of children waiting to inherit titles it might have been different, but with only two children, a divided inheritance was inevitable. Setting the heir aside left exactly one child—and the Crassius family was not so poor that it could simply ignore that one.
Therefore, as the heir’s only younger brother, I had to receive a title. Not merely the proxy seat in the Imperial Diet, but a title as well.
It’s not actually a bad thing.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t bad at all. To a noble, a title was a treasure beyond exchange, and the difference between having one and not having one split the grades of wealth, honor, and power.
Moreover, every barony the family head held came with territory attached. Inherit even one of them and you could live as a lifelong freeloader without any trouble. The kind of post that bled you dry once you took it on was a bureaucratic office, not a title.
But I was uneasy. I had already been saddled with the proxy assemblyman’s post simply for being the younger brother; if I took a title on top of that, the thought of what else might get dumped on me was downright terrifying.
“I’m an Imperial Count and I’m still working—you think a lowly baron gets to loaf around? Your nephew’s working in the Diet and his uncle is just playing?”
I could see the bleak future already. I had originally planned to hand the proxy assembly seat over once my brother’s children grew up and then live in peace, but if I became a baron I could already picture my brother still wringing work out of me even after the nephews came of age.
Cold sweat prickled down my back. Inescapable despair was right in front of my nose.
“Well, if you don’t have a preference, Father will just pick something suitable for you.”
Ah.
Those words snapped my fading consciousness back into focus.
No. If I couldn’t avoid the title itself, then at the very least I had to be the one to choose it. Not every barony was the same.
Which territory is the quietest?
I racked my brains desperately. Among the baronies the family head held, the most peaceful and uneventful place. Nowhere with mines or major trade routes that would become a nuisance, nowhere with so many residents that the administrative load would be heavy—
…
There was one. A decent candidate.
“I think the Hardiner Barony would be good.”
I spoke up in a rush, and my brother gave a faint frown, clearly trying to recall where the Hardiner Barony sat.
But someone else reacted before he could finish dredging up the memory.
“H-Hardiner?”
It was Sera.
“…Ah. That one.”
My brother finally placed the location as well and nodded.
“The Hardiner Barony is right next to the Zaigel Barony, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
The Zaigel Barony—the sub-territory under the Countship of Tailglehen managed by the Trimara baronial family, Sera’s house.
And the Hardiner Barony was the neighboring territory that shared a border with it. Even inside the Countship of Tailglehen it was an especially quiet place where nothing much ever happened—peaceful to a fault.
Perfect. No nuisances, and I would become Sera’s neighbor. Ideal location not only for me but for any children I might have as well.
“That work for you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
I let out a breath of relief at my brother’s permission. If I had to take a title anyway, Hardiner was better.
“Looks like Sera and I are going to be neighbors from now on.”
“Uh, y-yeah! That’s right!”
When I spoke to Sera with a smile, the answer that came back sounded a little flustered.
I understood. I was still flustered myself for having chosen it.
I looked once at Erich, snickering to himself, and once at Sera, who kept nodding with her face flushed bright red.
After glancing between the two of them, I quietly averted my gaze.
That crazy bastard.
It was impressive. Separate from his abysmal social instincts, his gut was working overtime and had somehow made a truly spectacular choice.
Father held a great many baronies. There were so many scattered baronial territories that you couldn’t even call them all to mind right away. And out of that entire pile he had picked the Hardiner Barony? The one right next door to the Zaigel Barony?
Once they’re married, it’ll be perfect for joint management.
Originally the Baron of Zaigel had two children, but one had passed away, leaving only Sera. In time, therefore, the Zaigel Barony would become hers.
And if Erich, Baron of Hardiner, married Sera, Baroness of Zaigel—then a single couple would be managing two adjoining baronies. A fairly strong power bloc would be born right inside the Countship of Tailglehen.
He can’t have aimed for that.
Nobles expanding their influence through marriage was only natural, but that idiot definitely had not chosen the Hardiner Barony with that calculation in mind. I was certain of it.
Which was exactly why the only thought that came to mind was “crazy bastard.” To make a choice like that without even intending to…
…Count Horfelt won’t be able to monopolize him either.
I suddenly remembered Count Horfelt, who had been so delighted when Erich became a proxy assemblyman. Just as Father commuted from the territory, Erich could choose to live in the territory rather than the capital. That would mean working with Count Horfelt during office hours and spending time near Sera after hours.
In that case Count Horfelt would be at a disadvantage. Erich would naturally grow closer to Sera, whom he saw in his private time, than to Count Horfelt, whom he only met for work.
Insane balance.
I nearly laughed out loud. Count Horfelt held the power, Sera held the neighbor’s advantage. The moment one of them tried to pull ahead, the other would have a foothold to keep pace.
Do I need to play matchmaker?
If I left it to those two, they still wouldn’t have an answer even after they turned thirty.