Round Table Meeting (1)
“The wind will blow! The wind divided into three streams! Ohhh..., great spirit of the warrior.”
“Your Grace....”
His dull eyes, stripped of any spirit, did not gaze upon the present. The man was crumbling so thoroughly that even the silk robes exuding softness at a mere glance, and the jewelry flaunting splendor to the entire world, could not conceal it. The Grand Duke of Sukan, Muyuldaesok Khan, muttered endlessly like a madman.
The Round Table Meeting operated on the principle that electors either abstained or attended in person. Yet Sukan had skipped not only the last meeting but the one before that as well. Though not mandatory, in noble society, silence without reason was taken as forfeiture of sovereignty. No matter the Grand Duke's condition, skipping three consecutive meetings was untenable.
How did it come to this..., Father?
Compared to its heyday, when it wielded near-absolute power dubbed the kingdom within the kingdom, Sukan fell far short—but under the great leader Muyuldaesok, it was rising again. Especially after successfully expanding its territory in the recent war of expansion. Until his second son, Muyul Ihyeon, entered the Academy, the fief's future had seemed bright.
“The first wind is an empty cart..., all my fault for being so lacking! Forgive me, ancestors!”
But the fief he returned to upon receiving his brother's urgent summons..., his father.... had become someone else entirely.
“Your Grace. Second Young Master. We will arrive at the Round Table Meeting site shortly.”
“Got it.”
“Ohhh..., the second wind blows from afar, but better than the first...—...”
The ceaseless groans quieted at last. The nerve-soothing magic stone ring, secretly commissioned from Moribwe, proved exceptionally effective.
“Do not leave Father alone for even a moment during the meeting, Housekeeper. If he removes this ring in front of the other electors, things will get complicated.”
“I shall keep that in mind, Second Young Master.”
The great leader, robbed of his dull mutterings, sank into a blissful expression as if lost in a dream. An artificial silence filled the carriage.
“Ugh..., my back. Next time, let's get a carriage with better cushions. Riding this long is driving me nuts.”
“Couldn't agree more. The ride's as stiff as those chairs in the Academy's old schoolhouse.”
Seolhwa and Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek disembarked from the carriage, twisting their bodies in grotesque contortions.
“Growing accustomed to such softness as cushions is actually detrimental to your health, Your Grace.”
Manrmursk's Knight Commander Gustav, the eldest among them, stood the straightest of all.
“Does our Knight Commander have an iron rod shoved up his back or something?? How are you so fine?”
“It's Your Grace who's lacking in exercise.”
“What'd you say?”
Whether another elector had arrived first, the village near the ancient castle selected as the Round Table Meeting site brimmed with stringent security. Every alley and corner hosted guard squads of at least three men each. The chilling clinks of their cold steel weapons betrayed their intent to preempt any assassination attempts.
“By the way.... I figured since it's the 'Round Table' meeting, we'd naturally head to the Imperial Capital, but apparently not?”
“What kinda talk is that..., oh, that Round Table? It is that Round Table, but it's just symbolic now.”
Leaving the two exercise-deficient chatterers behind, Gustav approached the guards and began conversing.
“It's just us electors getting together to chat—going to the Imperial Capital every time would be a hassle, right? But holding it in anyone's fief? No one would show. Absolutely not.”
“So it's held in neutral territory like this.”
“Ding ding ding! As expected from the Academy's top! Grad! U! Ate! Your brain turns faster than most, huh?”
Puhihhing!
“They say it's too far to walk to the meeting site. They've lent horses—please mount up, Your Grace.”
“Why, when there's a perfectly good carriage?”
“No paved roads fit for a carriage.”
“What kinda lame excuse is..., ah, whatever. Not their fault—the order came from above.”
Gustav, having finished talking with the guards, now held three leather reins. Seolhwa couldn't help but smirk at Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek as he grumbled but mounted anyway.
“These are the last trial documents for today, Your Majesty.”
The endless mountain of papers finally crumbled. But the emperor atop the Empire could not naively show joy to his attendants. Concealing his intentions was the rule.
I'm exhausted.
“You must be weary today—perhaps dismiss the attendants and rest, Your Majesty.”
A grating voice intruded, piercing the emperor's mask as if it were child's play.
“I was just about to. Thanks for suggesting it first, Sachsen Duke.”
Ignoring the curt permission, Sachsen Duke lightly gestured to the attendants. Only the pinnacle among them served the emperor up close, it was said. Erasing their footsteps was trivial; they vanished like sinking into the earth.
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what, Your Majesty?”
“The electors have gathered at the Round Table.”
“I've heard.”
“You don't need to attend, Duke? Though you're on imperial tour with me, it's not far from Manrmursk where this Round Table is being held.”
The clock chimed ten times. As impatience began to gnaw in that awkward interval, a reply came.
“To heed unnecessary grievances in person, my aged body deems it unwise, so I conveyed my intent to abstain.”
Unnecessary grievances...
Even he, the Empire's emperor, could not dismiss the electors' complaints as unnecessary. Electors—literally those who selected the emperor, nobles among nobles. They enthroned or dethroned emperors at the Round Table. True, deposing an emperor required unanimous consent—an effectively impossible condition—but their power was undeniable. If the Empire's core was the emperor, its substance lay in the electors' grasp.
“However, having also abstained from the previous Round Table, I left the decision to attend or not to my proxy this time, Your Majesty.”
“Proxy? The Round Table doesn't recognize proxies, does it?”
“Quite right. Except for one case.”
Was that a look implying ignorance? The emperor dismissed the embarrassing fancy. Amid burying it inwardly, Sachsen Duke's voice resumed.
“The Round Table requires each elector's house head to attend in person. In unavoidable circumstances, direct lineal descendants may proxy.”
“Your direct lineal descendant..., surely not?”
Puhihhing!
“Inspection, please. Your Grace the Elector, your house seal. Entourage, identification.”
If the village guards near the ancient castle numbered a platoon, those by the main keep rivaled a battalion. Their apparent guard captain approached Seolhwa's group.
“What the hell. We already did this at the carriage—what now?”
“Procedure for security and safety. We beg Your Grace's magnanimity and understanding.”
“Magnanimity and understanding, my ass....”
Grumbling, Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek nonetheless tossed his house seal from his breast pocket. Carved into indestructible Manrmursk eternal ice: three crowned reindeer. Magic-treated for portability, it even carried the border count's warmth.
“Confirmed, thank you, Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek Your Grace. The two behind you as well, please.”
Gustav's ID was routine, returned as swiftly as the count's.
“Knight Commander Gustav confirmed. The remaining one..., Utopia? Vice Warden cum Barony cum Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek direct aide..., yes?”
“Uh, yeah..., that's right. Hey, Your Grace, say something?”
“What am I supposed to say here? These guards aren't my men?”
Pondering what to present, Seolhwa handed over three IDs. Imperial civil servant card proving Utopia vice warden. Academy top graduate barony certificate stamped vividly with the emperor's seal. Last, the dispatch paper Byeon Gyeongbaek had scrawled when escorting the guard earlier.
But more convincingly proving Seolhwa's status was the banter with Byeon Gyeongbaek.
Manrmursk's house seal is genuine—forgery's impossible anyway.... The Knight Commander doesn't intervene in their bickering?
This man of bizarre titles must be a noble well-known to the border count. Round Table rules mandated the house head's presence—no ban on entourage.
“Confirmed, thank you, Seolhwa Romanov Vice..., no, Aide..., Warden? Forgive the rudeness. Seolhwa Romanov Vice Warden cum Barony cum Border Count direct aide, sir.”
Unable to pick the highest among them, the guard captain recited all.
“No trouble. Hard work.”
Kkiiik... Thud!
The guard captain in leather gloves waved, and the drawbridge over the moat descended.
“The other electors have already arrived.”
“Oh yeah? Fancy that. Good work~.”
Twirling his house seal like a toy, Byeon Gyeongbaek crossed. Simultaneously, a stray thought crossed Seolhwa's mind: If he drops it, will it melt in the moat?
Pretend it's an accident and spook his horse?
Recalling how he'd dragged him off midday like a kidnapping, Seolhwa gripped the reins tighter. Just how hard to yank for plausible deniability?
Puhihhing!
“Whoa! Scared me. Wh-what happened, Knight Commander Gustav?”
“My apologies, Vice Warden Seolhwa. Perhaps I've aged.... My grip slipped.”
From behind, Gustav struck sharply—like what Seolhwa had plotted against Byeon Gyeongbaek.
Slipped? A knight commander dropping reins from horseback?
Implausible excuse, yet Gustav's face showed no tremor.
“What're you doing? Come on! We're the last ones.”
Byeon Gyeongbaek shouted from the uphill path to the keep. As Seolhwa yanked to catch up, Gustav's heavy gaze bored into his nape.