Small but Substantial - 1

The storm that was the New Year's Audience had finally ended.

No—honestly, calling it a storm felt inadequate. In the span of barely a week I had been saddled with the post of Minister of the Inspectorate Ministry, the honor of knighthood in the Lisizariune Knights, and the shackle of an overseas assignment all at once. This was closer to a nuclear strike, wasn't it?

Tsar Bomba, even.

I scratched my head absently as I stared at the silver seal carved in the shape of a lion. If the three burdens before it had been ordinary nukes, this seal was the Tsar Bomba.

It was a headache. At the time I had accepted it with genuine gratitude because my father-in-law was handing it over himself; once reason returned, I realized I had taken something far too excessive into my hands.

This is a national treasure.

Not of the Empire, of course—of the Leon Kingdom. A historical treasure that had existed since the kingdom's earliest days.

How it had ended up in my father-in-law's possession was not the important part. The man who had stripped Leon to its very soul thirty years ago was my father-in-law, so he must have done a little farming while he was at it. There had been a duke among the Leon nobles who died at his hands, after all.

What mattered now was not that the seal existed inside the Empire, but that it had come into my hands.

It isn't a treasure just because of its long history, either.

I tapped the seal with a fingertip, then picked up the papers the Director of Intelligence had sent over again.

The contents were short and simple. Just as the Empire fixed its number of dukes at five, Leon had only ever allowed one; the founding duke had been the second prince who, during the kingdom's establishment, had piled up more brilliant achievements than anyone. Fearing that his mere existence might threaten his elder brother, that second prince had voluntarily withdrawn to the frontier. Moved by the gesture, the first prince had bestowed the dukedom upon him the moment he ascended the throne—a heartwarming tale.

A genuinely touching anecdote. The problem was that the seal granted along with the dukedom was the silver lion seal sitting in front of me. In other words, this was a supreme national treasure bound equally to Leon's royal house and its ducal house.

Leon's dukedom is vacant.

A sigh escaped me before I knew it. The war thirty years ago had extinguished Leon's sole ducal house—House Dinerua—in a blaze of glory, and even the seal that symbolized the title had been taken as spoils by my father-in-law.

Thanks to that, Leon still had no duke. With neither a successor who could claim the title nor the treasure that embodied a duke's authority, who would dare style themselves one? My father-in-law had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠probably farmed the seal with exactly that in mind. The Leon duchy had bordered the Empire, so from his perspective it would have been the first threat that needed eliminating.

What am I supposed to do with this?

The more I grasped the seal's value, the more tangled my thoughts became. I was grateful for the father-in-law who had trusted his son-in-law enough to hand over a treasure, but this lowly son-in-law could not find a proper use for it.

Yes, it was a supreme national treasure tied to both the royal house and the ducal house. But the royal house that would have cherished it was on the verge of collapse, and the previous owners—the ducal house—were already dead. There was no one left to squeeze rights out of in exchange for returning the seal.

…

Should I just install a new duke?

Come to think of it, we were heading over to replace the royal house. Setting up a new duke while we were at it would not be so bad. If we were installing puppets anyway, one or two made little difference.

Fortunately, finding a suitable candidate would not be difficult. Dangle this seal in front of someone with enough bulk who also knew how to bow to the Empire, and he would wag his own tail for us. The seal once used by Leon's only duke, now in his hand? That was more than enough justification to claim the vacant dukedom.

Like the lucky bastard who got his hands on the Imperial Jade Seal.

Not bad.

The royal house would have to be established through agreement with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Armein, but using this seal would let us install the sole duke according to the Empire's wishes. We would be leveraging spoils the Empire had secured thirty years ago; Armein could raise no objection.

Good. It was an idea that had come to me on the spur of the moment, but it was the best course. Further fretting would not produce a more useful application. Expecting high-level strategic play from an inspector whose only real talent was beating people up was simply shameless.

Moving on from that problem.

Besides, what mattered most right now was not some foreign dukedom.

…How wide should I set the guest list?

The wedding with Rory that would soon take place in the Attini Barony.

That was far more important than the dukedom of a minor kingdom staring down its own ruin.

Rory wanted to hold the ceremony in the Attini Barony—her hometown and the territory she would one day inherit.

I had been at a loss when I first heard it. As a husband, wanting to give my wife a grand wedding for her one and only ceremony was only natural. Mar and Trixie before her had both held magnificent weddings; I had thought Rory deserved the same.

But Rory was not competing with the two who had gone before her. She was thinking of the three who would come after. If even she held a grand wedding, she said, the ones who married later would feel pressured—so she wanted hers ordinary and modest.

"A wedding with the people close to me in my hometown will be lovely too. I want to be reborn in the place I was born."

Faced with Rory's soft little laugh, I had surrendered. When the bride ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the wedding wanted a small ceremony, what else could I do?

That did not mean a small wedding allowed me to choose the guests carelessly. On the contrary—because it was small, the guest list had to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠selected with absolute elite precision.

"Writing wedding invitations for the third time, my hand's gotten used to it."

"You still have three more to write, my lord."

I handed the carefully composed handwritten invitations to the steward; he accepted them with a gentle smile, playing along with my joke.

But I had been half serious. At this rate, was I going to become the Empire's foremost wedding-invitation expert? When my own children married, I would probably have to write theirs as well.

"My lord, if I may."

"Hm?"

"The Third Madam seems to want a quiet wedding… are you certain we should send these to such people?"

I let out a short laugh at the steward's cautious question. Compared to the scale of the ceremony, every single guest was a heavyweight; it was only natural for him to wonder.

"Quiet and shabby are two different things."

Quiet had already been solved by keeping the number of guests small. Filtering out the people who absolutely ought to be invited as well would only turn it into a shabby, insufficient wedding. I would not ruin Rory's memories that way.

"Besides, it would be awkward to cut anyone from this list."

"That… is true."

The steward checked the invitation recipients again and nodded.

The guests' ranks were nearly equal; remove one and you would have to remove them all, include one and fairness demanded you include everyone. Better to turn the celebration into a gathering of titans than to leave room for gossip at a wedding that was meant to be congratulated.

The only thing that still nagged at me was my third father-in-law, whose territory was about to become a sudden hot spot…

Time for him to build up some immunity.

It was a little cruel, but my third father-in-law needed shock therapy. He might already have developed some resistance through meeting my first father-in-law and Trixie, but those encounters had been as family, not as outsiders.

Once we were formally father- and son-in-law, a mere baronial title would not stop him from being shoved into the center of high society. Until now he had simply never left his territory, so the fuss had been limited; from here on, every scavenger hoping to pick up scraps by attaching himself to him would come all the way to the estate.

For a man who had lived as an ordinary minor lord, it would be a nightmare. How exhausting would a pack of determined hyenas be?

He has to step out of the ordinary.

So my father-in-law needed to awaken from ordinary minor lord into extraordinary minor lord. Once dealing with genuine titans became familiar, a swarm of hyenas would not rattle him; once he had those titans as connections, the lesser creatures would not even dare approach.

With that thought, I looked at the guest list resting in the corner of the desk.

It is flashy, I'll give it that.

That flashiness would only make my father-in-law stronger. I was absolutely not setting fire to his territory and then making excuses.

Really.

My heart had been restless since the New Year began. More precisely, I had not been able to keep my wits about me from the day our Rory—the girl I would never mind putting in my eye—graduated from the Academy.

This was not some classic novel about refusing to hand an only daughter over to a thief. She truly loved him, and he was a prospective son-in-law who could cherish that daughter without lack; how could I harbor such feelings?

It was simply that the child I had always assumed would remain at my side—the bright, cheerful girl who was the pride of the family and the territory, the child who had endured a painful childhood because of inadequate parents—had grown so splendidly that she was about to form a household of her own. I could not quite believe it.

"Dear."

"My wife."

While I sat alone in a chair staring blankly, my wife came over and patted my shoulder.

As expected, the only person who could understand a husband's heart was his wife. She was Rory's mother; of course she would know exactly what I was feel—

"Why are you moping like this where people can see you? It isn't as if Rory is being sold off."

Never mind.

"The day a child leaves a parent's side comes whether it is early or late. All a parent can do then is send them off with a smile."

The words were cold, but I forced myself to nod. The hand resting on my shoulder was trembling, ever so slightly.

She had not settled her own heart either; she was only pretending to be composed for my sake. In that case I could not keep showing such an ugly face.

I have to let her go.

Yes. Children leave their parents' arms someday. I had never expected that Rory, the heir of the house, would leave the territory, but she had found a good husband; there was nothing to mourn.

It was not as if she were departing for a place from which she could never return. It was not as if she would live without love.

You must be happy.

As happy as the share that belonged to your sister, who left us because of our failings.

Please make her happy.

And I prayed to the husband who would walk with her after us. Make her happy for our share as well.

A few days later, as if the prayer had been heard, word arrived from my prospective son-in-law.

"……."

Only the prayer seemed to have landed a little strangely.

His Majesty the Emperor and… Her Majesty the Empress…?

Otherwise a list like this could never have appeared before my eyes.