Gray Winter (4)
Mid-January, Baron Lift's mansion.
"Don't you have any plans to build a new baron's castle?"
"A mansion, maybe, but I don't see the need for a full castle."
Sir Mente Lift welcomed two imperials into what was nominally his baron's mansion—a four-story wooden structure.
"If you want to launch a construction business, bring me a business plan. Lift Territory is under my management, but it's fundamentally part of Gibraltar Territory."
"Isn't it a place ceded to you, Baron?"
"You entrusted me with managing it, not with free rein to do as I please. Duke."
"Ah, a-ah...."
The bald man scratched his scalp awkwardly, as if in distress.
"Understood. We'll prepare a plan that will satisfy you, Sir Lift."
"Not me—you need to satisfy Margrave Gibraltar."
"Hmm...."
"But rest easy. Surprisingly, the margrave won't mind if imperial-style buildings go up."
"Then...?"
"He hates tedious work. He despises anything that steals time from his wife and daughters."
"!!"
Color bloomed on the faces of the bald man and the short, bespectacled fellow.
"Thank you for the advice, Baron!"
"Good. Now then... Ash. Ash!"
"You called, Baron?"
The bespectacled butler in a gray suit, waiting outside the door, bowed at a perfect ninety degrees.
"Escort Duke Aegis and Duke Erchia out. And give them some gifts on the way."
"Oh, no need! We're already grateful just to offer our gifts!"
"We'll meet again. Farewell!"
The two men bolted from the room like arrows.
"...Good grief."
The butler Ash watched them go with a troubled expression.
"What do you think, Baron?"
"Think? What's to think?"
Baron Mente poured a full cup of somnus tea and took a light sip.
"An imperial construction firm wants to build with their own money and sell the buildings. Why not?"
"Looking at the blueprints they brought, it seems like they're planning dorms for imperials staying in Lift Territory—or prison-like hotels."
"Aren't you unusually knowledgeable about the empire for a mere butler? Heh."
"It's the bare minimum education for a butler, Baron."
Butler Ash picked up the documents the two imperials had left on the desk.
"Building one structure costs tens of millions, and they want land to erect several with their own funds. No need to block that. Approve it."
"I didn't ask for your advice, butler."
"You'll just pass it to the Gibraltar margrave family anyway. Easier to glance and stamp."
"Who owns Lift Territory? Tsk tsk."
Baron Mente grumbled as he pulled out his seal.
"But you seemed more guarded than I expected. Any reason?"
"They praised Grey Gibraltar."
"...Isn't that dangerous?"
"Not dangerous in that way. They have good instincts. They sniff out money like bloodhounds. Win-win deals all around. Look at this."
Butler Ash hoisted a box the imperial firm reps had brought as a gift.
"A mango box?"
"Not mangoes."
Ash opened the lid of the mango-labeled box, revealing stacks of bills inside instead.
"This is...?"
"A bribe."
"Turning Mente Lift into trash nobility who takes bribes right after getting his title?"
"This isn't a bribe—it's a 'gift' hoping for good future business."
Baron Mente leaned back in his chair with a sour face at Ash's words.
"Gifts can cause trouble if mishandled."
"If problems arise later, submit it as-is. Keep it stored; if a trial happens down the line, use it as evidence of 'their solicitation' and file charges."
"Let all that money rot?"
"No interest, but solid insurance. Looks like it's all laundered clean."
"Launder money?"
Ash chuckled as if to say don't joke, but Baron Mente's face was dead serious.
"...No, it means cleaned spotless like laundry. Know what scares the empire most?"
"The imperial shadows?"
"The Imperial Tax Agency. Anyway, details later."
Ash carefully closed the box.
"More investors, more partners—the better. Good omen. Imperial capital will pour into the canyon and the capital alike."
"The capital...."
"Orosol Academy."
Ash shook his head firmly.
"Even with special admission, you won't get in, Baron."
"......."
"Unless you fake your age."
"Hah. Better to just compile a list of bribe-offerers here."
Baron Mente propped his feet on the desk and snorted.
"You think I'd lie about being seventeen to enroll?"
"Baron Mente wouldn't. Of course. If only others followed your example."
"......."
A winter day, with entrance exams looming.
"I never imagined the kingdom had so many 'seventeen-year-olds'."
Regardless of official stats, noble heirs and wealthy children around that age began gathering in the capital.
"Makes sense. Natural progression."
"Yeah. Especially since it's...."
"Naria Geo Nostrum enrolling."
To enter Orosol Academy.
"And from the empire, Astasia von Tersian—the empire's top beauty—as an exchange student."
"So what'll you do?"
"Obviously."
Butler Ash shrugged, lightly brushing dust from a mansion shelf with his gloved hand.
"Go ahead and clean up in advance, right?"
The next day, no one in Lift Territory could spot the man called Butler Ash.
He'd never existed in the first place.
Year 97 of the Tersian Empire's unification, February.
In the winter when white snow blanketed the continent, the academy most people thought of was—
Kingdom different, empire different.
Coincidentally, both started semesters in March.
March, the month before enrollment.
Preparing for entrance, the kingdom reviews lists of incoming noble heirs.
They seek out influential nobles to befriend early, scout salons and cafes near the academy.
What about the empire?
January to February is 'exam season'—for entrants, not undergrads.
Anyone can enter? But they can't accept just anyone, so exams filter for those with basic academy-ready knowledge.
Anyone can study! Contradiction!
Kingdom nobles protested, but quieted at "Should we accept illiterates?"
Minimum academics: basics to learn at academy.
Academic place needs reading/writing; communal life needs social skills.
Empire's Education Vice Minister leads professors for entrance exams.
After talks, officially 'balanced selection'.
Orosol Academy: 300 total admits.
Respecting imperial ways, kingdom 'selects' 100 seventeen-year-old nobles.
Invites sent in January; nobles with seventeen-year-olds responded.
Some. Others claim seventeen falsely, or adopt timely 'seventeens'.
Loopholes used, but legally fine—no issues.
Normally, 200 of 300 would be these 'seventeens'.
Imperial style, so nobles wanting kids in sans loopholes complain.
Result: imperial method, but 'balanced selection' opens to 200, age-free and fair outwardly.
Open to all.
But some nobles whisper who it's really for.
"Noir Gibraltar's fourteen this year, right?"
"Too young for Grey Gibraltar at seventeen? Margrave intervened."
Gibraltar's will.
"Queen Carmen pushed for special admission... ahem, more balanced slots."
"Queen Carmen? Aiding Gibraltar over checking them? Grey enrolling means comparison with Princess Naria, boosting palace honor?"
"Prioritizing pride via advantage? No, granting Crimson Gibraltar's request."
"Grr. Old love still burns...."
Rumors of close Morgania-Gibraltar ties for years; this quota tweak nails it.
Many cheered. Knew it forced Noir in, but widened paths for all.
"Exam hall's packed. All here to test?"
"Look, House Roland marquises too."
"That young man's Viscount Kalia's second son!"
"Heavens. That woman...!"
Most nobles entering weren't seventeen.
Standout among them—
"Noir Gibraltar!"
All eyes on the black-haired youth striding the boulevard, face alight.
"Trailing him: Sir Carlos of the canyon knights...!"
"And beside, no need to say—Mente Lift Baron."
"Heavens. Attaching core knight strength for his son—even a master."
"How cherished is that boy?"
Even if riffraff enter Orosol, they'll force fourteen-year-old second son in.
If harm aimed at him, master's guard shows what happens.
"Practically heir declaration...."
Envy toward boldly striding Noir Gibraltar.
"Top enrollee Noir Gibraltar then...?"
"Ah, about that."
Screech.
A carriage halted before the hall.
Morgania knights as coachmen; rear bore Nostrum emblem gleaming.
"Princess yielded her slot, declared she'll take the exam herself—who knows now."
"......Why would the princess do that?"
"Well."
A golden-haired woman in white tunic and black pants—like knight garb—entered the hall.
Erasing Noir Gibraltar's presence.
"Wants to show her skills from day one, it seems."
Naria Geo Nostrum.
Waived seventeen and princess perks, appeared boldly for the exam.
Orosol Academy, a spot away from the exam hall.
"Hmph, hm-hmph, hmmm~"
A woman in black robe, baker's hat perched on head, strolled the grounds.
Black glasses on face, full lower mask—imperial breathing aid 'mask'—touring freely.
"Oh my. All those people taking exams... wow!"
She raised her voice toward the hall.
"Princess Naria wielding a spear overwhelming young master Noir...!"
Exam center.
Scores sparring live; eyes locked on standout duo.
Mid-level skills both. Full effort thrilling, but backgrounds problematic.
"Hmm...."
Woman crossed arms, pondered, then—
"Winner's my side! Both my side!"
Whispered playfully tiny, headed into a building she'd been passing.
"Dorms for imperial exchange students...!"
"Excuse me."
"......Huh?"
Orosol Academy, separate dorm for imperials.
"This area's restricted now."
"Uh.... Um...."
"Exit's that way."
Man in white mask, work cap, gray coveralls pointed outside.
"Sorry, but...."
"Hmm... ah!"
Woman clapped, beamed wide.
"Introduce me here!!"
Clung insistently.
"Come on. Huh?"
"......."
Janitor eyed her blankly, broom in hand.
"This once."
Led her inside, locked the door.