Club Members Stay, Advisor Goes Home - 3
The third prince of the second-strongest nation on the continent, the second prince of the third-strongest nation, and the next saint of the continent’s mainstream religion. If a lineup this magnificent were to visit the Imperial Capital, the fallout would be enormous.
Had they come on a school trip, they could have been written off as “just some of the students,” and no one would have needed to fuss too much. Security would still be handled with special care, of course, but the Empire itself would not have been obliged to roll out a formal welcome. Coming in a private capacity, outside Academy schedules? That was different. The Empire would have to prepare protocol to match.
Having a subordinate greet a visiting royal was a diplomatic breach. No matter how powerful a duke, a minister, or a marshal might be, they were still subjects. A member of the imperial family had to step forward.
Which leaves only the Crown Prince.
His Majesty the Emperor could hardly be expected to appear for something like this. That meant one of his children—and there was no resurrecting the second prince from hell, nor handing real authority to the third prince at this late hour. The Crown Prince was the only option left.
And once the Crown Prince was involved, the Ministry of Palace Affairs, which handled imperial business, could not stay out of it. The Palace Minister would be joining the fray as well.
If Palace Affairs was moving, Special Affairs would follow. The Minister of Special Affairs would also be drawn in. Simply because a member of the imperial family had to do the greeting, the Crown Prince and two ministers were already tangled up in this.
What else was there…
I pressed my fingers to my brow and tried to sort the mess in my head. A royal reception was not something the Crown Prince simply ambled out and handled alone. There were people grinding away out of sight to make it happen.
Naturally, the Minister of Foreign Affairs would be involved.
Precedent and legal issues had to be checked, so the Minister of Justice was in.
They would be using imperial territory and roads, so the Minister of Land was in.
It was a domestic affair, so the Minister of the Interior was in.
Escort troops and military bands would be dragged in, so the Minister of War was in.
All of it cost money, so the Minister of Finance was in.
And finally, the mayor of Ausen, the Imperial Capital, was in. Of course, he was treated as a minister-level figure himself.
And I was the one who had to report to the administration that the Baking Club was visiting the capital—and thereby set those ten people in motion. What a delightful task.
Would jumping headfirst out the window work?
I found myself staring out the window. It was not that high, but landing on my head might at least knock me out cold. Sleeping for a month or two and waking up afterward did not sound half bad.
A hollow laugh slipped out at the sheer absurdity of it. Ah. So this was what Villar had felt. Laughing when things got hard might not make you first-rate, but if you did not laugh you really would lose your mind.
I’m going to go insane.
The Crown Prince, eight ministers, and one minister-equivalent. I would be wedged right in the middle of them, taking a cheerful beating.
Had I ever dreaded calling a minister as much as I did today?
“What kind of bullshit is this?!”
The minister’s righteous fury—loud enough to haunt my dreams—slammed into my eardrums through the communication crystal. He had wondered why I was calling again after only a day; the moment he heard the situation he unleashed every obscenity in the book and a series of thunderous roars.
To be fair, it was the sort of news that made your eyes roll back in your head. If a section chief had dropped this on me, I would have reacted the same way. So I humbly sacrificed my eardrums and endured the scolding.
If it had been something the Ministry of Finance could handle on its own, I could have gritted my teeth and borne the annoyance. This, however, had ballooned until even the Finance Minister was just one participant among many.
“You little—just how the hell did you handle this?!”
“Why are you taking it out on me?! I only found out today myself!”
But the remarks that sounded like he was pinning the blame on me made my blood boil. This was a natural disaster, pure and simple. If I had lured those kids to the capital myself, I would have deserved to have my head chopped off for being a complete maniac. I was still a sane, innocent victim.
“They said they were coming! How was I supposed to stop them?!”
It was beyond my power to begin with. A rotten principle ran deep on this continent: civil servants were nothing more than the hands and feet of their betters. Creatures who made sure the exalted got what they wanted and went where they pleased. Avatars. Shadows.
Even the kindest person never said, “Good work today, my legs,” when walking somewhere they wanted to go. Unfortunately, a civil servant was exactly that pair of legs. I was. The minister was. Villar was.
A royal decided to go somewhere and a mere pair of legs dared say, “I don’t feel like going there”? Unthinkable. Absolute garbage.
“Well… that’s true.”
My heartfelt protest left him without a retort; his voice came back drained of energy.
“Sorry. The whole thing was just so ridiculous.”
“It’s fine. I understand.”
That this particular minister would actually apologize for yelling said everything. I truly understood, so I held no grudge.
“Eight ministers… never thought we’d be holding a ministers’ meeting in the middle of summer.”
He let out a dry laugh. I almost pointed out that it was not quite a full ministers’ meeting since not every minister would be present—then bit the words back. In this situation that would not have been comfort; it would have been pure provocation.
“I’ll speak to the Palace Minister myself. Stand by.”
“Understood.”
Hearing that he would handle the higher-ups for me was a relief. With the Finance Minister I could call without much hesitation thanks to our usual bickering, but the Palace Minister was still awkward territory. The Palace Minister would probably change before I ever got friendly with him.
“They’re not coming right away, are they?”
“No, sir. They only decided on sometime during the break. No schedule has been set yet.”
“That’s something, at least.”
After taking such a concentrated hit of disaster, I had reached a state where almost anything counted as good news. Not that this particular news was welcome.
“We’ll move as fast as we can. Keep that crystal glued to your hand.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
If the higher-ups finished coordinating and a lowly department chief failed to answer on time, the resulting grudge would pierce the heavens. Just imagining it was terrifying.
Still, this was not some department-chief meeting; it was practically a mini ministers’ conference. Even at top speed it would take five days before any outline took shape.
Please let nothing else happen until then.
And yet, astonishingly, less than five hours later the crystal glowed violet. I had hoped for quiet, and the universe had not even given events time to happen before delivering results.
“Audit Department Chief. I have just received the gift you prepared.”
“…….”
The one calling was a young man with the same blond hair and violet eyes as Ainter—yet the atmosphere he gave off was completely different.
“How did you know I was buried in work lately and prepare such an amusing little present? I laughed so hard I lost count.”
The Crown Prince had contacted me directly, bypassing the Palace Minister entirely.
“I am most humble—”
“Ah, none of that. I am not so humorless as to put on a stern face over a gift from a friend.”
Through the crystal the Crown Prince’s mouth produced pleasant laughter, but his eyes were not smiling at all.
“I received the gift most gratefully.”
= I’m already drowning in work and you dump this shit on me?
We were past the stage of assigning blame for the explosion and into the stage of cleaning it up, so he was not scolding me outright. His eyes, however, were spewing vicious curses. Fuck. Did he think I did this for fun?
“I worried it might disturb Your Highness’s peace of mind, yet I could prepare nothing better. If it failed to please Your Highness, a thousand apologies would not suffice—yet that you think of it so kindly fills me with gratitude.”
= Not my fault. It blew up so suddenly there was no way to handle it. If you don’t like it, fire me.
“Haha. As always, the Audit Chief’s loyalty is a joy to behold.”
= You bastard. Fine. I’ll let it slide.
Beneath the polite exchange, the real messages flew back and forth just as fast. There was nothing more I could offer the Crown Prince, and nothing more he could throw at me. Mutual greetings laced with silent swearing were the best either of us could manage.
He had not called to reprimand me in the first place. The man monitoring Ainter at the Academy had suddenly heard that Ainter and the whole club were pouring into the capital; of course he wanted to know what was going on. Being handed bizarre extra work while already busy genuinely seemed to irritate him, though.
“An unexpected gift is always more delightful. Life would be dull if it always followed the script, would it not?”
Coming from a living witness to a roller-coaster existence, it did not sound like a joke.
“Joy is meant to be shared. The Academy is going on break soon, is it not?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Once the closing ceremony is over, come to the capital.”
A summons had been issued. I had secretly hoped the ministers would just handle everything themselves with a hearty “let’s do this,” but that had been a futile hope.
Besides, the person who had dropped this bizarre news on the administration skipping the meeting would have been even stranger. Even if I had nothing useful to say once I got there, a few people would insist on dragging me in just so they could look at the culprit’s face while they solidified their rage.
“Understood, Your Highness.”
“Good. I shall see you then.”
I stared blankly at the crystal as its light died. I had wanted to leave the Academy and go to the capital—just not like this.
The vanishingly short time left until the closing ceremony. I checked more than once whether the kids might change their minds in that brief window.
If they abandoned the capital trip, I could immediately notify the administration. The meeting date was already set, so someone might grumble, “Are you toying with ministers?”—but those same people would do a tap dance on their way out the door the moment they heard the meeting was cancelled.
Hope, however, is the mother of disappointment.
“So you’ll all be staying at the Academy for a while?”
“Yes. Packing up takes forever.”
“Then we can set the schedule in the meantime.”
Right up to the very last moment, the capital trip was never cancelled. Instead we parted ways after casually discussing when to go.
And then I dropped out of the sky in front of the Ministry of Palace Affairs building, escorted by the teleportation mage the Crown Prince had thoughtfully sent.
Right ahead of me: ten superiors waiting.