Inheriting the Seat of Family Head - 3
"It's been quite a while. You seem to be in better spirits these days."
"Is that a compliment, Your Highness? It seems you've already heard the news."
Keitel's expression looked quite pleasant.
Perhaps he'd already learned that I had secured the relic. From the moment I entered, he had been standing there waiting, making no effort to hide his delight.
Which was only natural. Anyone who succeeded in securing the relic could reasonably be called capable.
And it was an Evil Dragon relic, no less.
He had been moving alongside the Church, and I had brought back the artifact anyway — so the eyes Keitel fixed on me were noticeably softer than before.
His wariness, however, remained intact. The masked man who had been with Theresia was surely one of his underlings, after all.
As I approached, the seated Keitel gestured to a seat beside him with a sly smile.
His goodwill wasn't unwelcome. Though I would have to consider just what thoughts lay behind such behavior.
All that remained was to hand over the relic. What I needed in return was tacit approval for the coming contest over the family headship.
That alone would amount to the Empire's support, wouldn't it?
I sat down and drew the relic from within my coat.
The moment the round artifact appeared, radiating a brilliant light, Keitel reached out with careful hands.
"...So this is the relic."
"It's called the Eye of the Moon, to be precise. Is it what you were searching for?"
"There is a way to confirm it. As it happens, I was about to show you something — convenient timing."
With that, Keitel produced a small medicine bottle.
When the cap came off the vial of trembling pink liquid, I sensed a strange mana seeping out from within.
That mana was quite familiar — it seemed to resonate with the Moonstone lodged within me.
An artifact that resonated with other artifacts. Why did this Moonstone still have power left in it?
Amid that question, Keitel carefully dripped the drug onto the relic.
Ssshhk—
Just as it had when Arwen fed mana into it, flames flared up once more. Watching them, Keitel gave a faint smile.
A drug similar to lunar mana, then.
Those flames had been a rejection reaction. As they gradually died away, Keitel gripped the relic again and looked at me.
"I never imagined you'd actually secure it. You've worked hard."
"It wasn't particularly difficult. If you request it again, I could manage it just as easily."
"Don't you think that's a bit much confidence? Well — I don't mind it, in any case."
For now, anything I did would reflect well on me.
He had said the Eye of the Moon was the most important piece for harnessing the Evil Dragon's malice.
That was only part of Arwen's speculation, but no doubt he had found a concrete method of using it by now.
Wearing a satisfied smile at my words, he continued in a quiet voice.
"Thanks to you bringing this, things will move far more smoothly. His Majesty will look favorably on the subjugation of the South as well — we could march out at any moment."
"Isn't that why the non-human races have been stirring? I hear they've already been moving for some time."
"Hm. Quick on the uptake, aren't you?"
The reason my southern trip had ended early was that the movements of the non-humans had grown unsettling.
That was likely why I'd been pulled out of the depths so quickly. There was only one reason the non-humans would move at this particular moment.
Left alone, they would have stayed quiet. But I succeeded in securing the relic, the Crown Prince heard of it, and moved his army ahead of schedule — that was all there was to it.
In fact, the papers had reported that imperial forces were garrisoned on the southern outskirts.
Officially they were stationed in response to the non-humans' movements, but in truth they must have been there well before the races ever stirred.
Keitel chuckled softly at my words but didn't deny it.
He only regarded me with a slightly intrigued look.
The better an impression I left on him, the better.
He would remain wary, of course — but if he came to find things inconvenient without me, then he'd have to try something. And that was where opportunity began.
Aspiring to become a close confidant meant precisely that.
Only when I made myself so indispensable that he could accomplish nothing without me — so that in any situation, he would inevitably come seeking me out — could such a relationship truly be said to begin.
"Then do you plan to begin the campaign within the year?"
"There will need to be some breathing room. You'll be rather busy yourself, I imagine — through this summer at least."
It didn't take long to grasp his meaning.
What was happening this summer was the settling of the Taylor family headship.
Reading my newly composed gaze, Keitel's lips curved quietly.
"You brought back this relic because there was something you stood to gain from it, no doubt. It was a transaction from the start, wasn't it?"
"...It was."
"I'm not a man who retracts a word once spoken. Last time I may have been a bit vague, but now we should settle things properly. What is it you want from me?"
I had thought many times about what answer to give when this question came, so I opened my mouth without hesitation.
"I want your tacit approval."
Something unusual flickered in Keitel's eyes. I understood that in a situation like this, his single word would be a great benefit to me.
But the contest with Yuria over the family headship was not merely a fight for a seat.
It was the settling of years of accumulated enmity. If an outside power intervened in that, the ending would never be clean.
Drawing in other factions was simply about balance.
So that no one would harbor ill intent when I became family head — I needed, at the very least, factions befitting the seat of head to stand behind me.
In that sense, direct support wasn't necessary.
It was enough that no matter what happened, no noise would arise.
For the Crown Prince to give tacit approval to the succession contest of a ducal house meant that no one in this country could say a single word against it.
If the Crown Princess and Crown Prince said nothing, the Emperor would hardly bother to interfere.
Whether he understood my meaning or not, Keitel let out a small laugh before speaking.
"That alone is enough for you?"
"It's enough. If the imperial family stays silent, then the next time we meet, it will be as Duke Taylor."
"What pleasant words to hear. I truly hope it comes to pass."
Perhaps it sounded like nothing more than a hollow fantasy.
I had shown no accomplishments whatsoever in noble society, after all.
For someone like me to become family head — it was a gamble no one would place a single coin on.
I might well be the only one who believed I could win this fight.
And yet I held my conviction. Having resolved to become the family head, I did not consider failure.
After a hundred regressions — surely I could manage this one small thing.
It would be my first attempt, but still I pictured the future in which I became the head of House Taylor.
Because that was what I had chosen for myself.
There was no failure in it.
"...Yes, I heard that Robert went to the Imperial Palace."
Yuria, quietly reviewing documents, let out a small breath.
The North, then the South, then back to the capital — where he had holed up somewhere before heading off to the palace once more.
She had expected him to strike the moment he returned, but his movements had been quieter than anticipated, and her vigilance was only growing.
She had not expected him to keep this low a profile.
That was precisely why she had summoned the nobles and spoken against Robert in advance.
If she became family head, their gains would be considerable as well.
Dozens of noble houses were bound together under the name of Taylor. If they cooperated with her, someone like Robert could be dealt with easily enough.
So why on earth had he gone to the Imperial Palace?
She knew his purpose lay with one of two people — the Crown Princess or the Crown Prince — but Yuria had guessed it was the Crown Princess.
Hadn't it been the Crown Princess who helped Robert last time as well?
He seemed to have aided the precarious princess and drawn her into his camp, but that was no turning point in the situation at hand.
"Has the imperial family made no response yet?"
"No... I've heard there's been no clear reaction as of yet."
She frowned at her attendant's words, but that told her nothing certain.
Rumors framing Robert's movements as suspicious must have already spread widely among the nobles.
She had confirmed the rumors had reached the palace as well — so why was there still no reaction?
Lately, everything had been going wrong in one way or another.
The poison she had been gradually administering to her father had gone missing — a problem, and then gone entirely.
Because of that, her plan to claim the seat of family head before Robert returned had failed as well.
Father knew nothing yet, but she doubted he would simply hand her the position, either.
What method should she use to usurp the position in short order?
In Yuria's eyes, her father had long since ceased to matter much.
The seat of family head had, at some point, come to feel like her own property — so surely, whenever she wished it... her father would simply have to yield it to her.
He had taught her that himself, after all. Perhaps it was only natural.
As she tipped her wine glass, the full-bodied aroma spreading through the air made her eyes narrow.
There had been a time of leisure. But no longer.
She was clearly the one holding the advantage — and yet Robert's movements felt as though they were slowly closing around her throat.
Why?
Had he returned straight to the ducal residence, she would have used her people to confine him somewhere in the basement.
She'd meant to correct his thinking about daring to covet the seat of family head.
Yet somehow he knew, and slipped away at every turn.
She was the hunter, after all.
Robert was nothing more than a rat. Yuria forced down the creeping unease and passed a hand over her face.
"So, what is the Duke occupied with at the moment?"
"I understand he has gone out."
Out. Then he had left his seat.
She had noticed her father's outings growing more frequent of late.
How to make use of that was her task alone.
Yuria fingered the rim of her wine glass for a moment, gave a small laugh, and then quietly rose from her seat.
"Was there a servant who's been slacking lately?"
"Pardon? Why would you ask about a servant all of a sudden—"
"Ah, never mind. There's one useless servant here, after all."
Crash.
The wine glass, striking the table, shattered with a light snap.
Only the handle and a jagged fragment remained. Holding the sharp-edged shard of the broken glass, Yuria strode toward the attendant.
For her to become family head, the current head had to disappear. It was only right.
Thirty years in the seat would be a long tenure by any measure. Even if he was her father — wasn't it time he stepped aside?
"Young Matriarch? Young Matriarch—"
Thud.
The shard drove into the fragile neck, and red blood began to flow from the throat of a servant who never even understood why.
What a soft neck it was.
The torn vessels bled freely, soaking the servant's pure white garments in red.
"It seems the Duke has lost his mind to old age. To kill a servant and then forget all about it. Isn't that right?"
The more Robert moved, the less her careful plans held together.
It was an ill omen. An unexpected rival had appeared and was trying to steal her place.
Hadn't the seat of family head been hers ever since the day she was named Young Matriarch as a child?
He had crossed the line long, long ago. Did he truly not understand that she had spared his life only because he was her brother?
As she stared down at the collapsed, bleeding servant, the corner of Yuria's mouth twisted.
She had once heard someone speak of a "contest for the family headship." But that had been a mistake.
Because—
The seat of family head had been hers from the very beginning.
Even her father, should he become an obstacle, was something to be swept aside.
A senile family head who couldn't even remember killing his own servant — surely he would have to step down before long.
Having wiped the blood from her hands with practiced ease, Yuria looked down at the servant's cooling corpse.
As if nothing at all had happened — only her frozen eyes gave off a faint, aching gleam.