Welcoming Voluntary Enlistment (3)
Roena stepped forward to select the personnel heading to the capital. At my insistence not to exceed thirty, the final count came to exactly that number—including me and her. Eight knights, with the rest filled out by esquires like those under my command who knew how to ride.
"Hmm…."
Eight knights was actually tremendous firepower. I'd seen memes online about novels where a single duchy paraded around with twenty thousand knights, but that was just the author botching the historical accuracy and getting roasted for it. If Berg Grand Duchy had twenty thousand knights, that'd be a dream, but reality gave us just over two hundred. Given the sparse population up north, it was about as squeezed as we could manage.
This was a fantasy world, after all, where knights—already walking weapons of war—wielded aura to boot. They could slice steel like tofu and punch holes through ogres with a single lance charge. End of story.
Even so, the knights pulled for my escort amounted to nearly one-twentieth of the grand duchy’s formal knights. Factor in my absence, and it was like losing a full quarter of our strength.
"What the hell does some damn face or prestige matter anyway."
I couldn't help grumbling out loud in the end. It'd be so much nicer if I could just zip off alone and zip back. Of course, the capital's flower-headed nobles would no doubt gossip behind my back about bringing a measly thirty attendants. Whatever—let them yap. Most of them couldn't even meet my eyes anyway.
Not thrilled, but we were off to pick up the new assets—Aisha and company—and pry some startup capital from the emperor. The journey to the capital thus began.
The goal: arrive within a week. Leisurely by carriage would've taken over three, but swapping horses like a courier made it feasible. Even in the medieval era, systems akin to Korea or China's post stations existed. The Germanic pretenders calling themselves an empire—hardly holy, Roman, or imperial—were a prime example. To manage their absurdly vast lands, the Habsburg emperors needed efficient comms networks. They outsourced to the Thurn und Taxis family, setting up post houses at regular intervals along the roads. Swap carriages, forward the mail.
The difference from Eastern systems, strictly for official use, was that the West privatized it for commercial gain.
Ancient Persia had post stations too. Can't run without 'em.
Thanks to that, the trip went smoothly enough. When a grand duke like me showed up in person, the postmasters blinked at our modest entourage but swapped our lathered horses for fresh ones the moment coin changed hands. We bunked at the stations, rode day and night, and hit the Imperial Capital in exactly one week.
"Every time I come here, it's so dizzying I can't get used to it."
I grumbled the moment we arrived. I'd only been a handful of times, but the place was still a glittering spectacle. Roads wide enough for several carriages abreast. Mild winter weather unlike the north. Crowds of citizens milling about.
"…Wow."
Roena let out a quiet gasp beside me. I glanced over and asked casually,
"Is this your first time in the capital, Captain?"
"…Yes, Your Grace. I've only ever lived in the north, so I apologize for the unbecoming reaction."
"No need to apologize. It's just… surprising. Plenty of our knights graduated from the capital's academy. Sir Maximilian, you're academy stock, if memory serves."
"Yes, Your Grace. I studied there before being appointed as a squire."
Another knight nodded promptly from nearby. Roena's cheeks flushed faintly.
"I… didn't graduate from the academy. My family handled the training in-house…."
Ah, homeschooling. Can't fault that.
As we bantered idly, a gaudy carriage rolled past, trailed by soldiers in ceremonial plate—who were sweating buckets despite the winter chill. A parade of inefficiency.
"Is that armor or jewelry?"
"Jewelry. Looks like tinned iron polished to a shine. One good stab and it'd crumple."
"Why bother with the polish?"
"'Cause it sparkles."
"And that's it?"
"Beats me."
The knights behind us chuckled softly. They'd gathered big, burly types for an escort detail, but it was all show, no substance. Still, I liked their sturdy builds and height. Three months drilling them up north, and they'd be proper elites.
I shook off the soldier-king fantasy. Anyone'd think I'd brought an odobongo or something.
Later for that. Focus on the mission: extract the payoff from the emperor that dragged me here. Sounds rebellious, but I'd negotiated with his plenipotentiary court count, right? A whole building, agreed. Time to collect.
We approached the guard post at the capital's main gate. The senior knight bolted out.
"Halt. If you have a pass or seal proving your identity—"
Before he finished, Roena silently unfurled the flag from her saddle. Black field, white lion crest. The guard's face drained of color.
"G-Grand Duke of Berg?!"
Eyes turned our way from all around. Berg Grand Duke. Not to brag, but our name carried the most weight in the empire.
I gave a slight nod, and Roena snapped at him sharply.
"What are you waiting for? Open the gate. You plan to keep His Grace standing here?"
"F-Forgive me!"
The knight scrambled aside—a natural reaction to seeing a phantom Pokémon in the flesh. My gaze lingered on Roena. Shoulders a touch higher than usual. Expression carefully composed. Worlds away from blushing over homeschooling. She's got some steel in those shoulders now. First time in the capital—bound to be exciting.
As I nodded approvingly, the pale-faced knight stammered,
"P-Please, allow me to escort you in. How shall we contact the Imperial Palace?"
"The palace? Ah. Right. Were you planning to relay the message yourself?"
"Yes! I'll deliver it word for word."
"Then why don't you pass it along? Tell them I request a private audience with His Majesty."
"A p-private audience with His Majesty?"
A bit much for a gate guard, but he'd offered.
I nodded with a faint smile at his stunned repeat.
"You heard right. Private audience with His Majesty. And inform him that the Grand Duke of Berg has come to collect what is his."
The building. Hand over my building.
* * *
The emperor ruling the Erbel Empire, Giovanni von Valentino.
The sixty-eight-year-old ruler sat in the audience chamber, kneading his throbbing temples.
"Elder abuse, that's what it is. Pure elder abuse. Body's frail and worn, energy's shot, but they expect me to work like I'm still young. Outrageous."
Ludwin Court Count, standing at his side, smiled faintly.
"But that's Your Majesty's duty. The throne comes with glory and authority—and burdens to match."
"At this rate, I won't die of natural causes. Better to abdicate while I'm still kicking."
Publicly emperor and court count, like employer and butler. Privately, master and confidant of over forty years—the emperor's sole true friend.
He sighed.
"These nobles should come all at once instead of trickling in one by one to pester me. This Founding Festival—why not just skip it next year?"
"You know that's not possible, Your Majesty."
"A nation founded centuries ago, and we know the exact date? It's just an excuse to throw a festival and gossip."
Grumbling, he flipped through the papers before him. His eyes were too dim for fine print these days.
"Tell them to use bigger writing from now on. Or have the court count read it for me. I'm too old; small text's a blur."
"I'll see to their training."
"Old folks should die off. Chest aches—heart's not what it used to be."
As he skimmed the list of nobles requesting audiences—high-caliber sorts needing his aged frame to drag itself out for loyalty oaths and small talk—he kept muttering.
"So, when's the Berg Grand Duke due?"
"He gave no firm date. Said he'd ride day and night alone if needed, but surely not alone."
"Youth really is a blessing. Back in my day, I could campaign for months without a hitch."
Tsking, the emperor shook his head. The two elders chatted amiably in the peaceful afternoon chamber.
A knock from outside, then a servant's voice.
"Y-Your Majesty. Report: the Grand Duke of Berg has arrived."
"Speak of the devil."
"B-But, Your Majesty… he requests a private audience with you."
"A private audience with me?"
The servant's voice trembled. The emperor furrowed his brow.
Clench. Outside the door, the servant—eyes shut tight—added,
"The Grand Duke said he has something to collect from Your Majesty, so a private audience is required…."
Something to collect.
To collect.
For a heartbeat, the old emperor's heart plummeted.