The Young Heir - 3
Night had long since slipped past into what one ought to call the early hours of dawn, yet neither I nor the Empress could find sleep.
"The Countess of Tailglehen has gone into labor."
That was the staggering report delivered by a palace maid of the Empress's household who had been dispatched to the Minister's mansion.
It was true that the Countess had been confirmed four weeks pregnant toward the end of February, so the due date fell roughly around now. It was a touch early, but still well within the margin of error.
Why am I the one trembling?
Unlike the Empress, who sat in silence beside our sleeping Crown Princess, I paced the room, rubbing the back of my neck. Whether from tension or from forcing myself to stay awake, a dull ache had settled there for no good reason.
No—it was almost certainly the former. The birth of the Minister's child was not merely a private matter for the Minister and the Crassius family. With only a slight stretch of the truth, it was an affair bound up with the safety of the Empire and the Imperial House itself.
If the child arrived safely, it would be a joyous occasion that solidified the succession of the Crassius line—loyal retainers who had upheld the Imperial House for generations—and the Minister's heir would become a friend of the same age as the Crown Princess. Even I, the Emperor, would not feel it excessive to read a congratulatory address in person.
But if—heaven forbid—something went wrong with the Minister's child or his wife during the birth?
There is no telling what might happen.
The Minister was generally mild-mannered, yet there was no knowing how he might change if he suffered such a tragedy. He had only just begun to heal the wounds of his past; a blow worse than those would drive even the sturdiest man to madness.
That must never be allowed to happen. A tragedy without catharsis or lesson was something I, both as a father and as Emperor of the Empire, refused to countenance.
"Ah."
The Empress let out a soft exclamation.
I snapped my gaze toward her at once and saw her fingers flying over the communication orb.
Is there news?
Cold sweat beaded on my brow before I noticed it. The weather sat at the border of autumn and winter—hardly the sort of climate that should make a man perspire—yet I felt nearly as taut as I had on the day the Empress gave birth to the Crown Princess.
The Empress seemed to share the feeling; her expression was rigid as she checked the orb, and then—
"It seems Charlotte will soon have a fine young gentleman friend."
The gentle smile that curved her lips finally allowed me to release a long breath of relief.
Fortunately, the young heir of the Crassius family appeared to have entered the world unharmed.
A gentleman friend.
And the moment the tension drained away, an indescribable irritation swept over me.
Of all things, it had to be a son. And not just anyone's son—the Minister's.
It would be a problem if he grows up to be a man like his father.
It was a worry too awkward to put into words and one I could never voice to another soul, yet somehow I already felt as though my only daughter had been stolen by some scoundrel.
I freely admitted the thought was both delusional and ugly. Still, was the Minister not the demonic man who had bewitched even the Demon Duke? If anyone had gone about a few years ago declaring, "The Demon Duke and the Audit Department Chief are getting married," they would have been pointed at as thoroughly mad.
So the possibility that the heir of an Imperial Count family might one day become the husband of the next Empress could not be dismissed out of hand. I had to consider every eventuality if I hoped to keep my daughter from being snatched away without warning.
...
Matters of the future should be left to the future.
Just as the Minister's son—whose face I had not even seen—was about to evolve in my mind into a detestable little thief, I gave a quiet shake of my head and brushed the thoughts aside.
Casting aside the present for a future that might never come was the act of a fool. What mattered now was to send gifts and congratulations to the Minister, who had become a father.
Going in person is out of the question.
Visiting the Minister's mansion myself was an idea not even worth discussing. The Countess had exhausted every scrap of her strength bringing a child into the world; if I barged in under the pretext of a visit and caused a commotion, even I would find it more offensive than grateful if our positions were reversed. I had no desire to become the first Emperor in imperial history to be punched by one of his own retainers.
Yet if my presence would create a stir, the same held true for anyone else. Whoever went in the Emperor's place to congratulate the Minister on the birth of a son would have to be of high rank, and sending someone of low station simply to avoid fuss would itself be an insult.
For now, gifts alone will have to do.
After some deliberation I arrived at the ordinary conclusion. Until the Countess recovered her strength, it would be best to send only presents. A servant could manage the delivery of gifts well enough.
No sooner had I settled one worry than another rose to take its place.
What foods are good for stamina again?
For a man soon to have six wives, nothing could be more vital than stamina. Exactly which dishes should I send to move the Minister to genuine gratitude and send him bowing toward the Imperial Palace?
Just imagining it was enough to bring a smile—
"Your Majesty. You seem quite pleased."
At the Empress's words I absently touched the corner of my mouth.
Without my noticing, it had risen high enough to catch on my ear.
The saying "I never tire of looking" was one I knew well. In the old days I had felt it every time I looked at Hecate; these days I felt it every day while gazing at my lovers.
And now I felt it while looking at the tiny life that carried my blood.
"He really looks like an angel."
Watching Ferdinand sleep, occasionally twitching his little fingers or toes, I could not help smiling.
He was adorable. So beautiful. I had thought the same even when looking at the Crown Princess, who was not my child—how much more so for my own son? It was as if an angel had descended from heaven and fallen asleep right before my eyes.
I wanted nothing more than to hold him in my arms for twenty-four hours straight, but I restrained myself. Handling a newborn carelessly could misalign his bones.
"Ugh..."
Oops.
Apparently my murmuring had reached him; Ferdinand, who had been sleeping so soundly, gave a slight frown.
Daddy's sorry. I'll be quiet.
"He was impatient even before he was born, and now he's sensitive on top of it."
Mar, having watched me clamp my mouth shut in a hurry, let out a soft chuckle and smoothed the blanket covering Ferdinand.
At once the faintly scowling expression on Ferdinand's face melted into perfect calm.
What the hell.
Why was he already discriminating against only his father? At this rate Daddy was going to cry.
"Pedi and I spent ten whole months together, you know. For now, he's still more comfortable with me."
"That's true enough."
I had no choice but to accept Mar's logic. When she brought out a mother's bond that no father could surpass, what counterargument was left?
Still, I felt a little forlorn. Whenever Ferdinand had wanted something to eat I had leapt out of bed, and if it could not be found in the capital I had shaken down the Second Division Chief until it was. I would have been grateful if he recognized even a speck of dust's worth of his father's efforts...
Pedi?
Come to think of it, the nickname had slipped out with startling naturalness. To receive both a name and a nickname on the very day of birth—that was fast.
Pedi, huh.
The cute sound of it pleased me. Ferdinand was not a bad name, but calling this tiny wriggler "Ferdinand" every single time felt far too grand and imposing.
Mar and Pedi.
Without thinking I looked back and forth between Mar beside me and Pedi lying in the cradle.
Truly, no matter how long I looked, I never grew tired of them.
Even after Pedi's birth I did not stop going to work. Taking parental leave when graduation was right around the corner—and when the situation already felt ready to wring tears from me—would have been awkward, so there was no helping it.
Still, it was a relief that the servants threw themselves body and soul into caring for Mar and Pedi in my absence. Having loyal household staff made life easier in every direction.
"If the first little one is all right with it, I'd like to help. Would that be all right?"
"Of course. Having Mother help would put my mind at ease."
On top of that, Mother herself had offered to drop by now and then to fill the gap I left and look after Pedi. Among our parents and in-laws, she was certainly the only one with free time and an easy journey.
And so, every time I missed Pedi, I clenched my teeth and endured. Our little angel would be smiling in Grandma's and Mama's arms even without this daddy around. Even if this daddy did not bring food home, the servants would provide the finest... ah, right—he was still a baby, so he could only drink breast milk.
Is that enough to fill a stomach?
Of course it was; that was why babies all over the world grew up strong and healthy.
"Counselor, what are you thinking so hard about?"
Ah.
Just as I was marveling at the fact that a mere liquid could settle a meal, Ryutis's voice pulled my gaze away.
"What else would I be thinking about? My son, of course, Third Place."
At the same time Later's natural jab reached my ears.
Ever since the inter-class tournament, Later had taken to hanging the words "Third Place" from his lips. Considering how thoroughly he had been toyed with at chess, the behavior was only natural.
"...You want a taste of Third Place yourself?"
"Sorry, but I'm too busy aiming for First to waste time fighting the Third Place beneath me."
I watched Ryutis's hands tremble for a moment before deliberately looking away.
It was reaping what one sowed, yet even as a third party the remark made me flinch. The rage and humiliation of the person involved were beyond my ability to measure.
Reaping what one sowed, though.
When Nia said she was going to see her grandson, choosing to make time and accompany her had been a wise decision.
"Waaaaaah!"
"M-Mother! What am I supposed to do in a situation like this!?"
"C-Calm down first. They say a baby cries when it's hungry, don't they?"
"I just fed him a moment ago!"
"Th-Then maybe he needs to... take care of business..."
"There's no smell!"
A novice mother of a daughter-in-law, and a mother-in-law who had raised two grown sons yet possessed almost no child-rearing experience to speak of. The combination alone was enough to draw a hollow laugh and tighten the chest.
As if she herself is in any position to help anyone.
Watching Nia flounder raised that very doubt. I had managed Karl and Erich's early years myself; after that they had simply grown up on their own. Honestly, Nia's share in raising the two of them could be called negligible.
At this point, was she not simply coming because she wanted to see her grandson? Any other explanation failed to make sense of the situation.
"Let me take a look."
I carefully examined the little young lord who was weeping so bitterly.
If left to those two, he might still be crying when Karl came home from work.