Even the Expo Was Window Dressing - 2
The Leon Kingdom. A realm seated in the heart of the continent, sharing a border with the Empire—and a once-glorious nation that had fallen spectacularly through war with that same Empire. That was the Leon Kingdom as it stood today.
Yet Leon had once been counted among the great powers. As the lion stamped into its very name suggested, it had boasted formidable military strength, and at its zenith had been judged nearly the equal of Armein—the hegemon of the central continent. Why else would it have stood at the head of the anti-Imperial coalition, rallying the eastern kingdoms to trade blows with the Empire?
Worse still, Leon had launched its full-scale war against the Empire just as the Retired Emperor had newly ascended the throne. The Empire had not yet been restored from its long decline; from Leon’s perspective, they must have believed they could thrash the Empire with impunity.
But whether a dying Empire was still an Empire, or whether the First Father-in-Law had simply been a monster—the anti-Imperial coalition led by Leon had been soundly beaten, and Leon, as its ringleader, paid for the spectacularly bungled war by trading the title of central hegemon for that of central loser.
After that, the wages of its wretched diplomacy had earned it a stab in the back from its neighbors. Now the continent’s consensus was that Leon was a terminal patient waiting only for the day of its death.
I never thought it would actually die, though.
Even so, I had not expected word that Leon’s bloodline was about to be severed.
A nation’s bloodline ending meant the royal line itself was ending. Considering the chaos that would follow, and the nerve-shredding scramble for the throne, Leon was as good as destroyed already. Whether it rose again or climbed into its coffin would depend entirely on how capable the next king proved to be.
Isn’t there still one left?
But it didn’t add up. I knew the Leon royal family was sparse. I had even heard that what little direct and collateral line remained had largely been wiped out through the wars.
Even so, the current King of Leon still had one child left to inherit the throne. For the bloodline to be broken meant that sole remaining child was finished as well. Had Leon gone so mad that it couldn’t even keep its Crown Prince alive?
As if sensing that very doubt, Count Nerkaff spoke again.
“Leon is a nation that holds martial valor in the highest esteem. Under that influence, royalty and nobility alike regarded taking the field of battle as an honor.”
I knew that. Wasn’t that precisely why the Leon royal family’s numbers had plummeted?
“Because of that climate, the majority of the succession candidates fell in battle, and the youngest prince—the only one who never took the field—became Crown Prince.”
Ah.
Only then did it click. The Leon of that era had been so consumed by madness that every member of the royal family rode to war. In a Leon like that, the odds that they had left a prince behind in the palace out of cold calculation—“we should at least keep one as insurance”—were far lower than the odds that they had simply been unable to send him.
Even if they had taken out insurance, they would never have left the youngest behind rather than a legitimate heir. In other words, the present Crown Prince had been so compromised that even in the midst of that frenzy he could not take the field.
Something like a health condition so severe that leaving the palace was an ordeal, for instance.
So he’s the Sera type.
Looking back, I had only ever heard that the current Leon Kingdom had a Crown Prince; I had never known the details. Natural enough, given that I had never bothered to take an interest in foreign affairs.
Moreover, if the present Crown Prince were capable of ordinary activity, he would already be of an age to have produced a royal grandson. And yet Count Nerkaff had said the bloodline was about to end—meaning the Crown Prince was ailing, and there was no grandson. That, too, was information I was hearing for the first time today.
Every circumstance pointed to the Crown Prince’s frailty and the Leon royal family’s crisis. I was simply the only one who hadn’t known.
I really wasn’t paying attention.
A faintly embarrassed feeling settled over me. However much of my work was domestic rather than foreign, this was information I could have learned in a moment’s inquiry—a truth I could have reasoned out at once—and I had been ignorant of it. For someone who called himself an Imperial minister, I was disgracefully blind to the continental situation.
I ought to reflect. The moment I rose from a mere department head to a minister, I had become not merely a major figure of the Empire, but a major figure of the continent. It sounded like inflated self-importance, but that was the reality, so what was I supposed to do about it?
…
I’m finished.
Before long, embarrassment curdled into dread. A frail Crown Prince who had produced no heir—that was certainly a grave enough reason for Leon’s bloodline to end. When major figures of different nations met, it was natural enough to discuss upheaval in a neighboring state.
But Count Nerkaff had not merely remarked that Leon’s bloodline might be broken; he had added the qualifier “before long.” And he had delivered it as an unofficial message from the King of Armein himself.
He knows something.
That much was certain. Even unofficial, this was a message the Grand Marshal was delivering in person on behalf of his king. He would never say such a thing unless he had received word that the Crown Prince was on death’s door—or unless they themselves planned to send the Crown Prince on his way.
And if a royal line ended, what followed was nothing but a blood-soaked scramble. However far a nation had fallen, a king was still a king. There was no shortage of blue bloods blinded by the purple crown.
For Armein—who understood that perfectly well—to come talking bloodlines to the Empire meant—
“Regrettably, it seems that before long even the last remaining Crown Prince will return to Enen’s side. Our nation has therefore judged that a wise and steadfast noble must be seated upon the throne that will fall vacant.”
—that Armein intended to intervene in that succession struggle, and—
“But how could the king of one nation arbitrarily decide the king of another? We would seek the wisdom of His Imperial Majesty, who upholds the Mandate of Heaven.”
—that they had no intention of devouring it alone, and were proposing to coordinate their positions.
I was going to lose my mind. I had let my guard down because he claimed to be visiting in a private capacity rather than as a diplomatic envoy, and I had never imagined he would float a proposal like this. More to the point—why was he making this proposal to me instead of the Emperor?
…No. Honestly, I knew exactly why he was doing this to me. If Count Nerkaff formally sought an audience with the Emperor for this proposal, the eyes of the entire continent would fix on them. For an Armein that wanted to quietly align with the Empire and swiftly seize control of Leon, that was something to avoid.
Hence, me. The Club Expo already had a long history of foreign visitors, so Count Nerkaff’s presence wouldn’t raise much suspicion, and I was the man who had been stationed at the Academy for the past two years. The odds of anyone finding it suspicious that Count Nerkaff and I met at the Academy were vanishingly small.
Damn this Academy.
In the end I could not suppress the bitterness, and I wept in my heart. For the crime of being at the Academy, I was being put through every imaginable ordeal.
“His Imperial Majesty’s wisdom truly covers the continent. As a mere subject, I could never dare to speak on His behalf.”
“Most rightly said. Who on this continent could presume to fathom His Imperial Majesty’s will?”
I had wrapped up “I don’t have the authority to discuss this, you bastard” in the most polished packaging I could manage—but Count Nerkaff ignored the word “speak on His behalf” and pointedly returned “could never fathom.”
This dog of a man. Speaking on His behalf only required authorization from the Emperor, so go ask and come back—was that it?
“…Come to think of it, we have no sweets to go with the tea. I’ll borrow some from a booth for a moment.”
“My thanks. There is no hurry—take your time.”
Shit.
I shut myself in the most secluded corner I could find and pulled out a communication crystal. Never in my life had I wanted the Emperor to pick up faster than I did today.
And as if my desperation had reached the heavens, it was not long before the Emperor answered—
“Ooo—?”
“Your Highness?”
Instead of the Emperor, the Crown Princess’s puffed-out cheeks filled the crystal as she waved her little hand.
“Oh, perfect timing—godfather has called as well. Hurry and say hello.”
“Awoong!”
The Emperor’s voice followed, but his face was hidden behind the Crown Princess.
What is this. Had I called while he was playing with the Crown Princess?
“Your Majesty, allow me to hold her.”
“Thank you, Empress.”
Fortunately the Empress was nearby as well; the Crown Princess who had been filling the entire crystal vanished, and the Emperor’s face came into view.
“As expected, a minister who is also the Crown Princess’s godfather is a godfather through and through. To call precisely when We were with her—how curious.”
In fine spirits, the Emperor let out a quiet laugh. He had been enjoying a peaceful moment with his family; it would have been stranger if he weren’t in a good mood.
Which made it all the more regrettable. I was about to slam that soaring mood of his straight into the ground. This was all the Academy’s fault.
“Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, but I have a matter of some urgency to report.”
At those words, the Emperor’s brow furrowed, ever so slightly.
As if he had sensed that something was very much amiss.
The moment I finished hearing the minister’s report, my hand went to my chin without thinking. That the Crown Prince of Leon was critically ill was something I already knew through a report from the Ministry of Special Affairs.
It had come up just this morning, after all.
So Armein truly has the upper hand in Leon.
Bitter. The information I had only received this morning, the King of Armein had already secured long enough ago to dispatch an unofficial envoy. At least where intelligence on Leon was concerned, I had no choice but to concede that Armein outstripped the Empire.
But it could not be helped. The collapse of northern intelligence networks after the Great Subjugation War; the resulting reassignment of the Information Department; the relatively low priority of the Leon Kingdom; and finally the temporary intelligence vacuum at the Ministry of Special Affairs caused by the Information Department’s absorption into the Inspectorate Ministry. With disaster piled upon disaster, the Ministry of Special Affairs was already fulfilling its duty simply by continuing to function.
Of course, this inferiority had to remain a temporary phenomenon. A new Intelligence Bureau would be assigned to the Ministry of Special Affairs now that the Information Department had departed, and such things would not happen again.
“Minister.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Command me.”
Having ordered my thoughts, I addressed the minister.
“Cooperate—so long as the Empire’s interests are not compromised.”
It was a vague directive, but it was enough. Having agreed to intervene alongside Armein, the Empire would profit no matter what result emerged.
So rather than burden the minister with meticulous diplomatic instructions, this was better. The other side was not a professional diplomat either, after all. For now it was enough to grasp the broad strokes; the finer negotiations could wait until the royal line was actually on the verge of extinction.