With a New Heart - 4
Thanks to Marquis Barandiga's enthusiastic cooperation, the marriage talks between Ainter and the Marquis's daughter—Shati—advanced at a breakneck pace.
"His Majesty has said that during the New Year's Audience, His Highness Ainter will be sent over to our faction. The pretext is that, as a member of the imperial family, he is to foster camaraderie with the newly risen nobles, so it should proceed without a hitch."
"I've also told Shati it's for social activities. If I so much as mention marriage, that girl would hole up somewhere and never come out..."
The discussions were proceeding as a thoroughly political arrangement with no input from the parties themselves, yet this was a world where the class system still lived and breathed. Political marriages were the norm; love matches the exception. Marriage talks flowing back and forth without the knowledge of those involved was nothing particularly strange.
Of course, even a political marriage was still two people building a life together, so people usually preferred to join pairs who had known each other since childhood. If they were going to be husband and wife, better that they already got along. But both Ainter and Shati were already classed as adults, so arranging the justification and circumstances for marriage was simply more efficient than carving out time for them to grow close.
Is this really something I should be thinking?
He finished yet another discussion—he had long since lost count of how many—and stared up at the ceiling. This was definitely not the sort of thought a man who had freely courted six lovers without a single political arrangement ought to be having.
Especially when he was stepping forward to matchmake someone whose unrequited love had only collapsed last year.
I'm trash.
The moment the thought formed, a heavy self-loathing settled over him. Setting up a man whose unrequited love had shattered barely a year ago with another woman? And the very person who had shattered that love doing the matchmaking himself?
Objectively speaking it was pure garbage behavior, but there was no help for it. He had already accepted the sweet advance payment of a one-month vacation.
...Ainter will like it too, right?
He forced the positive-thinking circuit into overdrive. As long as Ainter remained a member of the imperial family, the odds were high that he would marry according to the will of the imperial family's head—the Emperor—rather than his own. If a political marriage was inevitable anyway, a sturdy in-law family was pure profit.
And a marquisate was more than sufficient as in-laws; it was overflowing. Being a newly risen house was a drawback, yes, but the title of marquis could paper over such a minor flaw with ease. On top of that, Marquis Barandiga had only Shati for a child, so Ainter's own child could inherit the marquisate.
It was a good match. As an imperial who understood the importance of political marriage, Ainter would accept it willingly.
He would. He absolutely would.
Please.
He had to. If Ainter refused the marriage outright, both Karl and the Emperor would be in a bind. Marquis Barandiga even more so.
So if Ainter simply went through with the wedding without a fuss, Karl was prepared to throw in a voucher for three free uses of Karl himself as a wedding present.
While he was enjoying the vacation the Emperor had granted and simply waiting for the day of the New Year's Audience, a summons from the Retired Emperor arrived without warning.
Even a summons that passed through intermediaries would make a man's heart drop; a direct summons from the Retired Emperor himself was enough to blast away the last traces of morning drowsiness in an instant.
But with the sleepiness gone, his mind spun into high gear.
Is it because of Ainter?
He guessed the reason for the call almost at once and managed to settle his nerves.
From the Retired Emperor's perspective, Ainter's marriage was the wedding of his youngest son and the last daughter-in-law he would ever welcome. Even a man who had stepped back from every official duty would take an interest—whether as a father's affection or the lingering curiosity of a former politician.
So Karl skipped breakfast entirely and headed for the Imperial Palace. The Retired Emperor had said to come whenever convenient, but actually arriving "whenever convenient" was the act of a man who had lost all sense of tact.
What the hell.
Yet in his haste he had forgotten something perfectly obvious.
That the chickens that kept turning up in the Imperial Palace were animals the Retired Emperor himself raised. That the space where the Retired Emperor stayed would therefore be a full-blown menagerie.
- Woof! Woof-woof!
- Whine, whiiiine!
The moment he set foot in the Retired Emperor's residence on the palace outskirts, five little yellow rice-cake-like creatures came barreling toward him.
Awkward. Things small enough to hold in one hand were toddling over on stubby legs, and he had no idea how to react. Ignoring them risked stepping on them as they milled around his feet; pushing them away with any real force felt like it might break something.
What was he supposed to do with this? In a way, it was a more reliable sealing technique than most spells.
"Everyone, come this way. You're making our guest uncomfortable."
At the low, resonant voice, the rice-cakes—no, the puppies—that had been wagging their tails around him abandoned him at once and raced toward the sound.
He had wanted them to leave, yet the speed of the betrayal left him a little wounded. So I was nothing more than a fleeting amusement to you, was I?
"I have shown the Minister an embarrassing sight. These children are the sort that take to people easily; they must have been delighted to meet the Minister for the first time."
He watched the four puppies that had left his side in a daze, then lifted his head. The Retired Emperor stood there holding a small sack, expression as impassive as ever.
"That a life under Your Majesty the Retired Emperor's care should greet this humble servant is nothing short of an honor."
Flattery left his mouth on pure instinct as he moved to prostrate himself—
- Woof!
...only to freeze solid at the sound right beside him.
Come to think of it, why were there only four near the Retired Emperor? Hadn't there been five at the start?
"That one seems to have taken a liking to the Minister."
At those words Karl carefully looked down beside his feet.
A bright yellow rice-cake puppy was panting happily and wagging its tail for all it was worth.
"First, let us go inside. The day is cold; we cannot remain outdoors."
"Ah—yes, Your Majesty."
He hurriedly followed the Retired Emperor, who had already turned toward the building. Fortunately only one little nuisance was still loitering near him, so walking posed no real problem.
But as they approached the building the Retired Emperor began scattering something from the sack around him, and three chickens suddenly appeared and started pecking at the scattered feed.
You've got to be kidding me.
So that sack had been full of chicken feed? No—more importantly, why was he raising chickens free-range in the first place? That was exactly how they had escaped into the palace proper.
With complicated feelings he watched the chicken trio for a moment, then shifted his gaze to the Retired Emperor's back.
Even when the man had still been Emperor his thoughts had been impossible to read; now they were unreadable in an entirely different way.
When morning came, word arrived that the Retired Emperor had summoned the Minister. It was the first time since the abdication ceremony that the Retired Emperor had met with any sitting official.
He's quick about it.
Though the man had retired from public life, privately he was still the father of us brothers. I had already informed him that the Minister was spearheading Ainter's marriage.
So he must want to hear directly from the man in charge how the marriage of his last remaining child is progressing. Even he who had treated his sons so coldly had always shown deep interest when it came to marriage.
Marriage, huh.
He took a sip of tea and looked out the window. Suddenly he recalled the day he had first told the Retired Emperor about his marriage to the Empress.
That cold, rigid man had shown the only look of surprise Gilbert had ever seen on his face. Anyone would have been startled if a dying First Prince suddenly brought home a duke's daughter as his wife, yet Gilbert had never expected to witness that man look surprised in his entire life.
Of course it had been an extremely faint, extremely brief flicker of emotion.
Will he be surprised this time as well?
The corner of his mouth lifted. What reaction would the Retired Emperor show upon learning that the son who had once sought Ainter's life had personally chosen a marquisate as that child's in-laws—and that the marquisate belonged to the Minister's faction, so there was no chance of the Emperor discarding it later? Would he rejoice at the brothers' reconciliation? Shake his head at an Emperor acting on emotion? Feel nothing at all? Gilbert was curious.
Naturally he had no intention of asking outright. It was a question he would have to keep to himself and eventually erase from memory.
Still, he hoped the man would look kindly on it. Since becoming head of the imperial house, this was the first imperial-family matter he had decided for himself.
"Your Majesty, the Minister of the Inspectorate Ministry."
He's here.
While he continued sipping tea and gazing at the view outside, word came from beyond the door that the Minister had arrived.
He had not originally planned to meet the Minister, but if the man had just held a private audience with the Retired Emperor the situation changed. He needed to know at least what the Minister had said and what reaction the Retired Emperor had shown.
"Enter."
With that word the door carefully opened—
- Woof!
?
The foreign sound made him turn his head before he could stop himself.
There stood the Minister wearing an expression that mixed pure panic with utter resignation, and nestled in the Minister's arms was a yellow puppy looking this way and that.
What?
His mind went blank. Encountering animals outside the Solar Hall was nothing new. Just yesterday he had seen a chicken perched on the head of a black horse. If anything, he had been looking forward to discovering what strange creature might appear next.
But he had never imagined an animal would turn up inside the building itself. No matter how much he had anticipated something, this was not the scenario he had hoped for.
"Long live His Majesty the Emperor. The head of House Crassius—"
- Woof woof!
"...Karl Crassius of Tailglehen greets the noble sun of the Empire."
"……."
Even after the Minister finished his greeting, Gilbert could not force out a single word.
It was freezing. Even with his head bowed, Karl could feel the Emperor's gaze as a physical weight.
And in direct proportion to that gaze, the rice-cake puppy in his arms began to struggle and whine as if the confinement were unbearable.
Please stay still. If I set you down and you start rummaging all over the place, I'm the one who has to take responsibility.
"Minister."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"That... thing in your arms. What is it?"
The Emperor's voice was genuinely puzzled; Karl could not immediately open his mouth. He himself had no idea why he was holding the little creature.
But he finally mustered the courage to speak. Failing to answer the Emperor's question was disloyalty.
"His Majesty the Retired Emperor said that this child follows me closely... and told me to take it home and raise it."
The words were packed with every scrap of courage he possessed, yet the Emperor simply closed his mouth again.
Damn it.
Suddenly he resented the Emperor. Of all the possible moments, the man had chosen to summon him on the way back after receiving this gift, forcing him to arrive looking like this.
Having already received an imperial summons, he could hardly detour to the mansion and then return to the palace. Nor could he simply hand the Retired Emperor's gift off to just anyone. Even the vice-commander of the Imperial Knights waiting outside the door had waved both hands in frantic refusal.
"...It's a cute little thing."
"...Thank you, Your Majesty."
He had no idea what he was thanking the man for, but he answered that way anyway.
After that, for a long while, only the pitiful whining of the rice-cake puppy filled the room.