Plum Blossoms
'I never expected Duke Fraia to come in person.'
He'd thought shipping the warhorses and griffins wouldn't be a big deal—they'd just send some handpicked subordinates. If he'd anticipated things unfolding like this, he would've at least left a heads-up with Byeon Gyeongbaek of Manrmursk after the Round Table Meeting.
"Regretting it now won't change anything."
"Pardon? Did you say something, Viscount Seolhwa?"
"Ah, no."
The maid assisting with the crystal communication tilted her masked head. The light haze that had formed Duke Fraia's image moments ago flowed back into the crystal orb. Seolhwa gazed at it silently before speaking.
"May I use the crystal communication one more time?"
"Of course, Viscount Seolhwa. Where to?"
"Connect to Manrmursk this time."
Victors use the past as a springboard; the defeated are shackled by it. Time wouldn't wait for Seolhwa to dwell on irretrievable regrets—not back when his family burned, nor now.
Wooong! The light haze gathered atop the crystal orb began to dance. It swelled like dust bunnies from the bed's corner, soon transforming into the familiar Manrmursk reindeer crest.
But only for a moment.
Psshik.
"Huh?"
The dancing light-reindeer fizzled out limply. Crystal orb communication required massive mana stones and costs just to attempt a connection, regardless of whether the recipient accepted. For a vast territory like Manrmursk, dedicated managers were always on duty 24/7 to ensure no calls were missed.
Which meant this reaction wasn't from missing the orb...
"Viscount Seolhwa?"
"Yes."
"They hung up on us."
The maid stated it flatly through her mask, showing no change in demeanor, but Seolhwa felt his face heat up slightly.
"Try Manrmursk again."
"Understood."
"Wait!" Seolhwa interjected just as the maid reached for the orb. "This time, sender pays for the mana stones."
"L-Lord Byeon! It's ringing again—sender's covering the mana stones!"
"About damn time, kid. Connect it."
The Manrmursk manager, who'd been fidgeting anxiously after cutting off Moribwe's call, placed his hand on the orb with a relieved expression. Seolhwa's form materialized in light and haze before the pleased-looking Byeon Gyeongbaek of Manrmursk.
"Loud and clear."
"That's too much, isn't it? I'm not even paying for the call, and you hang up?"
"Who told you to hire mercs and ditch to Moribwe without paying? I fronted this month's fees already."
"Oh~ If you're bringing that up, I might have to mention a certain sunny afternoon incident~."
"Fine! Fine! Drop it! So, what's the deal? Why're you calling?"
Hans, the Manrmursk crystal orb operator listening in, went wide-eyed.
Who the hell is this guy bantering with Lord Byeon like that? Who'd I just hang up on?
“Speaking of the mercenaries, did you make sure to send them to Petergorsk exactly as I requested?”
"Not all arrived yet, but yeah, sent 'em. Place is basically an abandoned port village—needs rebuilding too."
"Guess Sachsen didn't send theirs all at once."
"Nah. Maybe half-ish now? Count 'em yourself when you get here."
Hans's face now looked like a man on death row. Someone bantering with Lord Byeon and issuing requests. Someone using Moribwe's crystal orb. Whoever it was, a top noble for sure. And if that noble learned a lowly operator had cut their call...?
I'm screwed! Totally screwed! Should've just answered and called for Lord Byeon...
ZZZzt! Hans's mana wavered, shaking the image.
"What the—why's it glitching? Hey, fix it!"
"S-Sorry! I'll focus!"
What's he apologizing for all of a sudden?
"Yeah, good. Keep it steady."
Clueless to his subordinate's turmoil, Byeon Gyeongbaek of Manrmursk tilted his head but answered.
"Lord Byeon?"
"Nothin'. Anyway, why the call?"
"Well... To head back to Utopia, I've gotta go through Manrmursk, right?"
"True."
"But get this—the ship with Fraia's promised warhorses and griffins is routing through Moribwe?"
"And?"
"Figured I'd check the animals' condition and hitch a ride back while I'm at it."
"Quit circling. Spit it out."
“Would you mind granting formal docking permission at Petergorsk for those ships?”
Fraia's vessels—who knew what they carried, how many would come. Animals, maybe. Or not ships at all, but invasion craft. Fraia wouldn't launch a land war with their sea power, but hit-and-run raids? Different story.
Still, Byeon Gyeongbaek shrugged nonchalantly.
"That what this was about? Do whatever—sent Gustav there already."
"You can approve that easily?"
"One catch!"
Seolhwa across the orb—and Hans beside it—held their breath.
"Triple the standard docking fees. Technically smuggling, no complaints?"
Docking fees varied by nation, territory, mainly port. Major hubs or trade chokepoints took 10% of cargo value. Lesser spots, 5-7%.
That plan assumed the existence of a functioning port, but Petergorsk was little more than abandoned rubble that had to be rebuilt by the arriving mercenaries. Under such conditions, they would likely beg for free docking privileges rather than being able to charge triple the standard rate.
"Deal. But I have a condition too."
"Didn't ask to negotiate... Fine, shoot."
"Pay on delivery."
"What?"
To the baffled Byeon Gyeongbaek of Manrmursk, Seolhwa replied with a smoke-like, pure-white smile.
"I'm broke right now."
Piles of documents towered on the desk. Tomes thick enough to block a dagger bore pasted covers everywhere. Amid scholars who looked like they'd lived their lives buried in books and papers sat one who screamed noble birth, exuding effortless poise.
"Your Majesty, the chamberlain. May I enter?"
"Come in."
The heavy door to Palatium's main hall swung open. A steaming teapot and cart of dried persimmons halted before the emperor.
"Not mealtime yet, but thought Your Majesty might want a light refreshment."
"Thanks. If every provincial trial doc was as thoughtful as you, no need for inspections. Right, everyone?"
"Quite right, Your Majesty."
"Grateful, Chamberlain."
"Ooh... this tea's aroma is rich and superb."
The inspections' true aim was checking provincial nobles—especially electors—but not solely. When lords' verdicts dissatisfied or tangled interests overwhelmed solo judgments, the emperor ruled directly, as now.
"Mana stone—or mana reaction stone—mine disputes, Manrmursk purified water export complaints, major crop field reallocations... All thorny issues."
"Even in peaceful times, human greed knows no bounds."
"Most tie to war spoils. Seeing these, feels like the war's not over."
The empire won, but sword-and-spear battles ended while pen-and-ink wars raged on. Territory splits, profit fights, even succession squabbles.
Maybe Father stayed saner, delaying all for victory alone?
Ridiculous fancy, yet hard to shake. The chamberlain, silently watching Rudolf von Romanov II, spoke.
"Your Majesty, en route here I saw plum blossoms blanketing the annex garden. Care to take a brief look?"
"Plum blossoms?"
"Yes."
Perfect breather. As the stuffy emperor rose to stretch, a scholar piped up.
"Plum blossoms? Wasn't any blooming when I arrived this morning—mmph!"
An elder scholar hastily muffled him.
"Nothing, Your Majesty. We'll handle the rest—please go."
"Ahem... Back shortly."
The emperor exited with a casual shoulder roll, chamberlain trailing. Door shut softly; the muffling hand withdrew.
"Pwah! What the hell?"
"That's what I wanna know. Desk-jockeys like us can't be that oblivious... Tch."
"What're you on about? Ugh, why so salty—did you hit the john?"
"Thought you just lacked tact? Left manners at the Academy too? Explains why you still can't solo trials!"
Old grudge flaring into spat; colleagues intervened.
"Easy now."
"Try the chamberlain's persimmons—divine."
"Ahem..."
"Hoo... So, what about 'tact'?"
"Hmph! Figure it out."
The elder, thoroughly miffed, clammed up. The gagged scholar looked baffled; a colleague explained.
"Nobles live and die by etiquette and face—you know that?"
"Sure. Half these doc mountains started as petty squabbles."
"Right. Emperor's more noble than nobles—can't lose face there?"
"What's that got to do with plum blossoms...? Oh!"
Belated realization; the persimmon-munching elder grinned smugly.
"Not a total blockhead, eh?"
Pity the emperor buried in endless trials. But with elder scholars, suggesting only he rest? Face-loss. Hence the "plum blossoms" excuse—plus tea and treats as "bribes" for the rest. Chamberlain's masterful close-aide savvy.
"There are plum blossoms, but Chamberlain."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Er, never mind."
The "blanketing" claim felt a tad embarrassing up close. Too awkward to call out, the emperor zipped it.
Gazing silently, the chamberlain handed over a parchment.
"So the plum blossoms weren't just kindness for me."
"Had to slip it past the scholars. My apologies, Your Majesty."
"No matter. You wouldn't go this far without reason."
Less sheepish now, the emperor took it. Breaking the wax seal revealed a simple title.
[Utopia Regular Inspection Report]