Two Dukes (4)

The fact that First Prince Raphael himself was traveling with the delegation did not come to light until the party was nearly upon us. Even Lucian's intelligence network had failed to uncover it, which meant the imperial family had buried the truth deliberately.

It did not matter. If they had come prepared with a trump card, then I had methods of my own.

"Tell Thalia to receive the delegation."

"As you command, my lord."

Thalia moved out the knights of both the Frost Knights and the Steel Guard to welcome the imperial party. Over the past three years the Frost Knights had grown to two hundred strong, and the Steel Guard by another hundred. They had seasoned themselves in the brutal campaigns of the North while helping rebuild Stormrock Fortress, and Kaspar's pills had dramatically raised their realms.

They were likely the only order on the continent where senior knights outnumbered intermediate ones. What was more, the Frost Knights' officers were Master-rank powerhouses, the sort before whom an entire territory would drop to its knees at the sight of a single man. An elite force rivaling the full strength of a nation stood in gleaming formation before the ducal residence.

And...

"You go too, Ivan."

The giant sheathed head to toe in metal armor gave a nod.

This iron colossus was Ivan, the puppet I had built when I was two years old. As my cultivation rose to the Incarnation Realm, his performance had naturally been upgraded along with it. Ivan had since become the duly appointed captain of the Frost Knights' Fourth Squad, a unit composed entirely of puppets.

"Committing your own masterstroke, I see. You truly are remarkable, Lord Iden."

"If we are to negotiate, we can't have them laboring under any misconceptions about us, can we?"

"A fair point. The imperial family has likely come resolved to crush the ducal house by force."

Lucian looked down past the window. The imperial delegation was filing through the inner gate, a massive procession numbering well over two hundred, attendants included.

"Then this humble merchant will withdraw for now."

"I still have use for you."

"You know full well that is no seat for a man who bought his title with coin." Lucian turned away with a laugh.

"Then all I need do is grant you a title myself."

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"If this affair is settled the wrong way, it seems a few countships will be opening up."

"Duke Iden."

Lucian turned slowly back to face me. It was the first time he had ever called me Duke.

"I prefer things as they are."

"A countship would let you make money far more easily."

"A life that is nothing but easy holds no fun." Lucian walked away, still smiling.

At last the delegation arrived at the front entrance of the ducal residence. I let a suitably long time pass before descending to meet them.

Three figures stood waiting. One of them was nearly the size of an ogre, a frame of some two meters and thirty centimeters packed solid with muscle.

One of the Imperial Seven Pillars. King Sandor.

His muscular torso was bare, a white conical hat perched atop his head, and two curved sabers hung at his hips like a pair of crescent moons. His face put one in mind of a gorilla, not as an insult, but because though his features were unmistakably human, nothing human reached you from them. Those chilling, white-rimmed eyes seemed to bear out a reputation for butchering hundreds of thousands, sparing neither man, woman, nor child.

Lucian's intelligence dossier had gone into painstaking detail over how King Sandor had used that very ability to sweep the desert ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tribes from existence.

"So this is the young lord Iden." Sandor looked down at me as he spoke. "Much smaller than the rumors made you out to be."

"I would say it is Your Majesty who is oversized."

Kalman stood at Sandor's side, unchanged as ever. He still clung to his spotless white longcoat, his golden hair falling in flawless order.

"You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you." Kalman offered the exact opposite assessment of me.

"He is at the age when a boy should be growing."

That was the extent of my exchange with Kalman. The delegation's true leader was another man entirely: the one who would inherit the Empire, foremost of the Imperial Seven Pillars, Raphael Romarin Pellion.

Raphael was a youth of seventeen, with the ash-grey hair that was the signature of the Pellion imperial line. He wore a lavish black formal tunic, a longsword sheathed at his waist.

Having read Lucian's dossier, I had settled on a definition of Raphael long before we met: he was what you would get if you fused Mavel and Chris into a single person. Raphael had been born with a cruel temperament. From his earliest years, suspicious deaths had trailed in his wake without end.

"So you are Iden." Raphael flashed me a self-assured smile.

"I greet His Highness the First Prince."

"Call me Raphael. You are a claimant to the ducal seat yourself, after all," he said, as though granting a favor.

"The welcome ceremony was quite impressive. Not bad for a rural duchy."

"Thank you, Lord Raphael. Allow me to escort you to the main hall. A banquet has been prepared."

"I'll accept. I'm curious what country folk up North eat to survive."

So Lucian's flattery had found its mark. But this was surely a provocation aimed squarely at me.

We made our way to the banquet hall. In the vast main hall, a dinner had been laid for just five. The guests were Raphael, Sandor, and Kalman; Uld and I played host.

The truth was, Uld had tried to bow out. She had flubbed it even in front of the family council, and she did not trust herself to mind her manners before honored guests. To her anxious protests, I had only said this:

"Just be your usual self."

Servants brought out freshly cooked dishes one after another, every menu the height of fashion in the capital's high society.

"...What is this?" Raphael asked, puzzled. "Why is there nothing on the table but forks?"

The food itself was lavish and fashionable enough, yet before each of us sat a single, solitary fork.

"This is how northern country folk eat."

I began stripping the meat from the bone with fork and fingers alike. Raphael eyed me with disgust, then shifted his gaze to Uld. Taking my lead, she had found her courage and was eating exactly as she always did. Raphael's face contorted with displeasure.

"What manner of game is this? Do you dare demean a prince of the Empire?"

What game? If there hadn't been time to teach Uld proper table manners, then the obvious strategy was for everyone at the table to abandon them.

"Let me say it once more," I repeated, with deliberate emphasis. "Country folk have always eaten this way."

"Kalman." Raphael turned to his side. Kalman was in the midst of quietly carving morsels from his meat with his fork.

"You have been to the North before. Did they dine in this fashion back then as well?"

Every eye at the table turned to Kalman.

"I wouldn't know," Kalman said flatly. "I have never once dined at the ducal house."

He was not wrong. Kalman had been seized by the collar and hauled off to the Demonic Realm the moment he set foot in the duchy, and on the return journey he had whiled away the hours picking mushrooms in the Subterranean World. But Kalman saw no need to explain any of that to Raphael.

"However a man eats, it all ends up in his stomach all the same, does it not?" So saying, King Sandor began shoveling food into his mouth with abandon. Kalman, for his part, knew how to preserve his dignity with nothing more than a single fork. Uld and I were lowborn by origin and had nothing to be squeamish about, which made Raphael the only abnormal one at the table.

Raphael prodded at his meat with the fork a few times before his patience gave out entirely.

"What a farce. Not even worth a laugh." Raphael let the fork drop from his hand. The crumpled lump of metal clattered loudly across the floor. He fixed me with a murderous glare.

"Mavel was right about you. He said you were so arrogant and insolent you didn't know your place."

"My dear elder brother certainly has an eye for character."

"Does the name of the imperial family amuse you? If you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wish to live long, you would do well to correct that attitude. I could destroy you with a single word."

"You have certainly conducted yourself in a manner worth laughing at, Your Highness. You came all this way because a criminal's words tempted you."

"A criminal, is it? You deviate from expectations not one whit." Raphael sneered.

"If you wanted to drag down a serious claimant to a title, you should have brought a fresher story."

"How casually you turn a matter the Sword Duke investigated at the risk of his own life into a stale tale." I turned to Kalman. "Kalman, explain to me how a criminal who starved two thousand people to death can be made Duke."

"..."

Kalman's silence stretched long. The Kalman I knew was a man who understood honor. Nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠else could explain the sincerity with which he had thrown himself into saving my father, even with his own life on the line.

"I was awaiting the imperial family's judgment on Mavel." At last, Kalman spoke. "How disappointing, then. If this is what their judgment amounts to."

"What did you say?" Raphael's mouth twisted.

"Are the two of you in league, then?"

"And whose side is Lord Raphael on?" I asked him. "The side of House Esterzy, which has served as the Empire's shield for over three hundred years? Or the side of a criminal who massacred his own subjects with his own hands?"

"That is nothing but your one-sided claim."

"Did the Sword Duke not investigate the matter?"

"Kalman's investigation was insufficient. A few scraps of circumstantial evidence are not grounds to condemn a man of such nobility as a criminal."

"Then you should have investigated further, rather than traveling all this way to speak on his behalf."

"...Insolent wretch." Raphael smiled, baring his eyetooth. "If my mother the Empress had not called you useful material, I would have torn out your tongue on this very spot."

A killing intent flared up beside me without warning. Uld was glaring at Raphael with terrifying eyes. Had I not warned her that he was an important guest, she would likely have torn his tongue out first.

"Enough. Let us move to the matter at hand. I have no wish to linger in this squalid place." Raphael drew a single sheet of paper from his breast.

"These are my mother's proposals for mediating the dispute. Negotiation is off the table; know that much."

"I am listening."

"The ducal title shall go to Mavel Esterzy, eldest son of the ducal house and a man of proven virtue. In recognition of his exploits, Iden Esterzy shall be granted the position of Imperial Seven Pillar."

"I am to become one of the Imperial Seven Pillars?" It was an offer I had never once imagined. Raphael tossed the paper carelessly over his shoulder as he replied.

"I intend to relinquish my Pillar's seat in order to inherit the throne. You will be succeeding me; take it as an honor."

"It is not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠merely the seat," King Sandor said. "You will be granted a fitting fief and vassals as well. The Sword Duke has his own territory, does he not?"

"That may be so." I smiled brightly. "Then it is my turn to make a proposal."

"I distinctly recall saying negotiation was off the table."

"Your Highness, let us hear him out. Are you not curious what this audacious rascal has to say?"

"...Speak, then." King Sandor gestured to me, as if to say: out with it.

"I request the extradition of a criminal, in accordance with the treaty concluded between our two houses."

"Extradite what?" Raphael's brow furrowed deep.

"Surrender the criminal Mavel Esterzy to us. Since the imperial family shows little will to punish him, the aggrieved ducal house will carry out the sentence itself."

Raphael scoffed as though the very notion were absurd. Sandor watched me with evident interest. Kalman's expression was unreadable.

"And one thing more," I said, pointing a thumb at my own chest. "The Duke is me."