The Succession of the Family Head — 1
"So the schedule the South assigned us is nearly finished, isn't it?"
"I imagine so. The matter of the mages has been pushed back to the next round, after all."
"That's a little disappointing. Investigating the mages was the reason we came here in the first place."
When Adrian murmured those words with a trace of regret, I simply nodded in agreement.
Our original purpose—the investigation into the mages—had been cancelled because of the non-human races' movements. They should have been quiet at this time of year, yet they had stirred all at once, cutting the month-long schedule down to a mere two weeks.
Mirazen, having heard that someone had used a relic, had already returned to the imperial court. Only Adele and Adrian remained here with me—and even they were now on their way home.
Still, considering everything I needed to gain from the South, I felt I had gotten it all. The relic meant for the Crown Prince was secured, and most importantly, I had won Adrian's support.
As long as Adele and Adrian stood on my side, I could leverage the forces of the Church and the North to stabilize House Taylor once I became its head. In that sense, the swift conclusion of our southern business was actually a boon.
It meant I could strike at Yuria before she expected it—before she even knew I was returning.
I assumed she would catch on eventually, but for now, her ignorance of my movements was a certainty. Winter had not yet loosened its grip; spring was still some distance away.
So many tangled affairs had piled up barely a month into the new year. If Yuria were to move rashly amid all this chaos, it would most likely prove a self-defeating blunder.
The faction Yuria commanded under the name of Taylor was by no means small. To overturn the entire board in a single stroke, she would need some decisive "move"—and even if that move succeeded, it wouldn't guarantee her the headship outright.
That was exactly why I had deliberately let word of my movements slip. I hoped she would either hesitate, her ankle caught by the possibility of my return—or, failing that, dismiss me entirely no matter what I did.
Truthfully, I preferred the latter. But according to Renald's reports, Yuria was paying rather close attention to my route.
Well, if that's how it is, then my task is simple.
To telegraph my intentions as clearly as possible, through my very movements. The mere fact that the Saintess and the Grand Duchess traveled at my side was already enough to make her uneasy.
I could judge matters more precisely once the next report arrived, but even this alone suggested the advantage was slowly tipping toward me. For now, I could afford to be patient. Until I set foot in the capital, there was little I could do anyway. It was enough to endure until the news I was waiting for finally arrived.
Sensing a gaze upon me as I sank into thought, I turned my head and found Adele watching me quietly.
"...Was there something you wished to say?"
"No, just looking for a moment. I have to return to the North now anyway. When will you come next?"
"I can't say. I'll likely be quite busy through summer."
Driving out Yuria and taking the headship was one thing, but before that I would need the recognition of the other nobles. And accounting for the time it would take to stabilize everything... a few months at the very least. Delivering the relic to the Crown Prince and approaching him was another problem entirely.
I could honestly say things had been convenient out here in the South and the North. The capital was a minefield of headaches, and I knew perfectly well that this rare calm had little time left.
At my vague answer, Adele frowned; at the mention of being busy until summer, she swallowed a groan. I did have to visit the North within the year. The incident in which Keitel summoned Adele fell between autumn and winter. Without me there at that time, she would grow anxious on her own. At the very least, I intended to witness every event I knew of with my own eyes.
"I will visit around autumn, at least. Though by then I'll be Duke Taylor, not Robert Taylor."
"You sound confident of that. The faction the Young Matriarch has built won't be easy to dismantle."
"I'm not without confidence. Why else would I have made my way through the North and the South—to be certain?"
And if asked whether I had truly gained that certainty, I thought I could answer yes, with some boldness. I would manage. The gap between us was no longer the overwhelming chasm it once was, and the harvest from the North and the South had exceeded my expectations.
At the very least, if I counted only the names of those who now supported me, the advantage was mine. I had secured the Evil Dragon's relic, which would buy Keitel's tacit approval, and I held the backing of the Saintess and the Grand Duchess. Each of them represented the Church and the North respectively—which meant that if Yuria made a reckless gamble, I had the forces to answer it.
"Don't overextend yourself. You know better than anyone what Yuria Taylor is capable of."
"I intend to move carefully. I've been receiving reports for some time now—once I reach the capital, I'll have to act at once."
"There's nothing I can help with, I suppose?"
"Until I claim the headship, I must arrive there on my own strength."
Legitimacy was an especially critical matter. No matter how little weight I personally placed on it, in this society of nobles, legitimacy and perception outweighed everything else.
Even if I seized the headship by force, without the nobles' recognition I would be nothing but a figurehead. Since I had to make use of the name Taylor, that was a state of affairs I could not afford—and my current standing was something I absolutely had to maintain.
Hearing this, Adele gave a small, wry smile and nodded. Once I became Family Head, things might be different—but until then, the position was one I had to reach through my own power alone.
...Strange. I never cared much for the title of Family Head, and yet here I am, treating it as if it were everything.
Perhaps my values had simply shifted with time. Had I focused on the succession struggle from the beginning, what would have changed? It was a foolish thing to wonder now, but I couldn't help entertaining the thought.
Had I cast Yuria out long ago? Had I simply excised her from my life and moved on?
I knew now that either path would have been better. But there was nothing to be done about it. Just as with Theresia, what I had ultimately chosen was to carry everyone with me, didn't I?
Though this time it was different. Discarding, one by one, everything that held no meaning for me—that was the very purpose of this life.
No matter how much I had once believed them to be family, in the end they were nothing more than stepping stones beneath my feet. Yuria was simply one of them—a thing to be walked upon, crushed so thoroughly it could never rise again.
Theresia had left me a valuable lesson. If you intended to cut something out of your life, you had to move fast. And if you intended to trample it—
Then you had to trample it completely.
The carriage jolted and swayed along the road, and I turned my gaze to the window. The trees that had stretched skyward fell away, and broad plains and scattered cities came into view. Leaving the North for the South, and now the South for the capital. My feelings were strangely fresh—for this would be, perhaps, the first New Year I had ever greeted in all my lives.
#
—What is your name?
It had been only recently that the master he served had changed. Always meek, always pushed around by others—a presence so thoroughly disregarded within House Taylor that he survived on the family name alone, unable to utter a word of protest even when a mere butler like himself slighted him. That had been Robert, hadn't it?
Then one day, everything changed. A cold stillness had entered the young master's eyes, and all hesitation vanished from his conduct. His unimpeded advance redrew the balance of power within the ducal house—and even the unshakable Yuria Taylor had, for a moment, wavered. Her connections to the imperial court grew loose, and her position, once treated as a foregone conclusion for the headship, was no longer what it had been.
Even so, the gap between her and Robert Taylor remained vast—yet within the ducal mansion, whispers were circulating nonetheless. What if? Renald had started those rumors himself.
Raising his collar, Renald chuckled softly. In the beginning, he had complained bitterly about having his fate tied to Robert Taylor. No matter how he looked at it, the man was a rotten rope. Even if his family left him little choice, the moment an opportunity arose, he had planned to betray him at once and attach himself to Yuria Taylor.
But now? Was there any reason left to side with Yuria at all?
Renald was no fool. He knew that his survival, despite having scorned the sole heir of House Taylor, stemmed from his own peculiar talent. He knew when to drop something, and when to press forward. What had looked like a rotten rope at first had carried Robert further than either he or Yuria had imagined. A friendship with the Grand Duchess. An open, public friendship with the Saintess. And now, even ties to the imperial princess.
And so he now felt not the slightest compunction about reporting Yuria Taylor's movements. When you peel away the rotten surface and find gold beneath, only a fool runs away.
"And the public mood isn't bad these days, either."
The very first thing Robert had done before departing for the North was dispatch medical aid across the territory—as though he had foreseen an epidemic coming. And indeed, a sickness had broken out in several regions, but with the aid conveniently already sent, it was overcome without difficulty.
The order for medical support had come from Robert Taylor—Yuria had tried to sabotage it, of course—but Renald had spread the word first, making sure everyone knew whose deed it was. Spreading rumors was what Renald did best. After all, he was the one who had once spread ugly rumors about Robert when the young master was first scorned. He felt a faint twinge of guilt about it now, though back then he couldn't have imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that the man had been hiding his true face.
Meanwhile, Yuria Taylor's own behavior had turned strange. He'd heard she quarreled with Robert before he left for the North, but whatever she'd heard that day, he couldn't fathom it—it had left her like this.
When news arrived that Robert had reached the South and was moving with the Saintess, what did Yuria do? She summoned the nobles she had cultivated connections with to a social gathering. Renald knew only fragments of what was discussed within—but two things were certain. She had proclaimed that she would soon become Family Head, and she had begun openly moving against Robert Taylor.
Renald jotted those two facts down and swallowed a quiet groan. There was, in truth, one more thing he had to report—but that matter, he could not help but treat with the utmost caution. It was the very key that could overturn this precarious board, still tilted in Robert Taylor's disfavor.
What would become of him if this letter leaked? If Yuria learned of it, he was as good as dead.
Her proclamation carried two meanings. One, of course, that she truly would become Family Head—but the headship of House Taylor only held meaning if the previous head acknowledged it. And with the current Family Head having taken an interest in this succession contest, would he simply hand Yuria the position on a platter?
Renald shook his head and laughed bitterly. Cold sweat ran down his brow; he wiped away the dampness that had soaked his hair without noticing.
"Mad. It's madness."
Until now, the road had been smooth. From here on, it could not be. He was standing on a rope bridge over an abyss.
Yuria's plan to forcibly usurp the headship had failed—and by Renald's own hand. His own initiative: he had smuggled out the drug that would have been the seed of that scheme.
He let out a long breath, then set his stalled pen moving once more, writing furiously. All he could do was pray that the rope he had grasped truly was made of gold. The instant he sent this letter, he could see his own future with brutal clarity—the death that awaited him if Robert failed.
[It has been secured.]
A brief message—yet one that carried more weight than any could know. With the small vial of medicine sealed inside, Renald let out a long sigh. Everything now rested in Robert's hands. If he failed to become Family Head, then Renald too would have to die.