Can You Feel the Difference in Power? - 1
Beatrix's Shadows were busy year-round.
They took turns on duty and managed the occasional rest — but that was all. Weekends off, let alone a proper vacation, were things they could barely dream of. And even when leave was granted, bodies trained by habit moved of their own accord. It was no different when Beatrix herself went on vacation.
From the common gossip circulating through the streets to voices of discontent — the Shadows gathered every scrap of information from every corner of the realm, collected the evidence, and delivered it. Only this time, not to the Queen, but to Albert.
"Am I really allowed to take this?"
Albert, catching his breath in the garden pavilion, tilted his head. He had just finished a light workout at the training grounds, and the flush of exertion still clung to him.
A woman dressed like an ordinary maid nodded in reply. She was one of those who served among the Shadows. Outwardly she kept a rigid, professional line — but inside, things were considerably more complicated. It was the sweat trailing down Albert's neck, the quickened breath slipping from his lips.
The kingdom had no shortage of young lords and men every bit as handsome as Albert. Those who belonged to the Shadows had seen enough of them to grow indifferent — and yet, strangely, her heart was racing.
Why does he have to look so absurdly fuckable?
Hiding thoughts that would cost her her head if discovered, the Shadow answered in a flat, even tone.
"Yes. You are Her Majesty's consort, after all. If I delivered this to Her Majesty, Your Highness would learn of it eventually anyway."
She — and every Shadow — knew perfectly well how that savage Beatrix was handled like a dog. Even the people who merely passed by their chambers knew; there was no way the Shadows would not.
It would not be an overstatement to say the true power behind the throne is the Royal Consort.
The moment the Queen pushed him away, he would be nothing but a discarded orphan pup. That was how the ignorant thought of it. The Shadows knew better. They knew exactly how thoroughly Albert had the Queen wrapped around his finger — and just how much that let him do. If he so much as begged for it right now, blades would start dancing across the kingdom.
It was fortunate his character was decent. Had he been as vain as the usual young lords, chaos would have broken out long ago. Blood would have been flying in every direction, and the palace itself would have been in turmoil.
Even now he worries whether Her Majesty's authority is being diminished…
Having a man like this as Royal Consort was a genuine relief. The woman let out a quiet, private sigh and set her mind at ease.
Albert carefully leafed through the bundle of papers she had handed him. The voices of discontent were still there — and he could tell they had grown louder.
"Thank you for bringing this. You're always working so hard — why don't you rest a little before you go?"
"That won't be necessary. I'm fine. I'll take my leave, then."
The Shadow bowed politely and withdrew. Her heart had fluttered at nothing more than a single word of thanks. Beatrix did occasionally acknowledge their labors, but she never expressed it as often as Albert did.
There's a lot of cursing in here.
Albert sighed as he skimmed the paper report in his hands. When you thought about it, this was not so different from a pile of hate comments. Seeing it with his own eyes was dizzying — like coming back from vacation only to find a mountain of work waiting on your desk. Suffocating. Despairing. The kind of thing that dragged a sigh right out of you.
Of course people are pissed…
Albert was still fairly tolerant of being talked about behind his back. Of course the rock that rolled in from nowhere was going to grate on people. The problem was whether the resentment would swell large enough to spark a rebellion. That was what worried him.
If a rebellion did break out, they would purge it cleanly and be done with it — but when that time came, Albert had no desire to grab Beatrix by the ankle and start preaching about the sanctity of human life. If someone pointed a blade at you, you at least cut off the wrist, or took the head, and snuffed the threat at the root. That was a lesson he had learned living from orphanhood to the present.
Still. That did not mean he wanted blood on Beatrix's hands.
So just once. He wanted to give them at least one chance to change their minds. In the end, the ones who threw that chance away died by the sword…
It might be time for a warning.
Albert set the report down on the table and sighed. He firmed his resolve to act before things got any noisier.
Beatrix was busy covering for the empty seats of her ministers — Charlotte, Mia, and the rest. So it seemed best to try handling this matter himself. He was in a position where he could live in comfort for the rest of his life if he wanted — but there was no harm in sharpening his ability to deal with things.
And just sitting still until I die would feel a little wrong anyway.
His lifespan had gotten far too long for that.
When Albert rose from his seat and left, the nearby maids fell in behind him. The place he headed for was the Royal Palace Intelligence Bureau.
He was already using the Shadows to gather information, but an official institution for collecting intelligence was also necessary. So he had created the Intelligence Bureau. Its primary work was receiving reports from agents dispatched across the land, compiling and summarizing them, and delivering the results. Because of that, there were always those who tried to snatch profitable information early and turn it into personal gain — buying up land marked for redevelopment ahead of time, for example. Naturally, when such corruption was exposed, Beatrix personally saw to it that heads rolled. By her standards, that kind of graft crossed a line so thoroughly it was unforgivable.
The director of the Intelligence Bureau, Rose Gauge, had kept her neck intact within that policy. A large part of that was her so-called self-preservation doctrine: just hold your seat and don't make waves.
"Good heavens! What brings Your Highness the Royal Consort here…?"
The moment Albert stepped into the Intelligence Bureau building, Rose — who occupied the highest seat — hastily rose to her feet. Desks and people arranged in reasonably orderly rows. It looked rather like the office scenes you saw in dramas. The other staff mid-work bowed in greeting as well, but Albert quickly waved them off. Telling them to be at ease would only leave them more uncomfortable. Best to clear out quickly, he decided.
"I'd like a private word with the Director for a moment."
"Pardon? Ah… yes. Please, follow me."
With me?
Rose tilted her head but guided him to a private room. Inside was another door, one that led back outside. Once Albert vanished from the office floor, the bowing staff exhaled and sank into their seats. They dealt with high-ranking people often enough, but personal visits like this were rare — especially from someone who sat at the very peak of power, like Albert.
"Please, have a seat."
"Thank you."
Albert sat in the chair Rose offered and apologized at once. The chair was plain, and the rectangular table before him was the sort of thing you could find anywhere in the market.
"I'm sorry. I was in such a hurry I was rather rude."
He should have summoned her separately so as not to cause a stir. Albert smiled bitterly at the belated regret, and Rose shook her head as she took the seat across from him.
"Rude? Not at all. Shall I have some tea brought first?"
"I appreciate the thought. The longer I stay, the more uncomfortable you'll be."
"Oh, goodness. Not in the slightest."
Rose insisted she was perfectly fine, laying it on thick. Her true feelings were another matter, but outwardly she played the gracious host. Albert knew what was underneath and cut straight to the point.
"I've actually come to ask a personal favor."
"Hmm. Coming to the Intelligence Bureau with a personal favor… means you want someone investigated, I take it?"
"Yes."
Beyond the agents Beatrix had planted, the Intelligence Bureau ran its own network of informants — as befit a proper state institution. An investigation requested by the Royal Consort. Rose stroked her chin and sensed the stirrings of something about to break.
"Well… please go ahead. I'm listening."
Anyone else would have strained to read between the lines. Rose was different. She simply emptied her head and did as she was told. That, she knew well, was the secret to living long and living quietly.
"I'd like you to gather information on the young noble lords. Names, personalities, hobbies — even their likes and dislikes regarding various things."
Investigate all the young lords. It might have sounded like an outrageous demand at first hearing, but from Rose's perspective it was not particularly difficult. They already had a great deal of collected information; it was mostly a matter of compiling and delivering it.
"Understood. Is there anything else you need…?"
She asked just in case, and Albert shook his head. There was no sign he intended to dig up dirt for blackmail.
"I think that should be enough for now."
"Understood. I'll have it organized and reported as quickly as possible."
"I'd appreciate it. I'll take my leave first, then."
Albert rose from the chair, inclined his head lightly, and departed.
"Hmm…"
An investigation into the young lords. Rose stood still a moment in thought, then walked back toward the office floor.
"What is it?"
One of the Intelligence Bureau staff asked, and Rose rested a hand on her hip and sighed. The others' eyes lit up, wondering what was going on.
"Investigate the young lords scattered across the various territories. If you've already prepared materials, just compile them."
"All of the young lords?"
Another staffer asked, eyes widening, and Rose nodded.
"That's right. The work itself isn't that punishing, is it? We've been gathering this kind of information routinely anyway."
"Well, that's true enough. Specifically?"
"Names. Distinguishing features of their appearance. Hobbies. Things they like. And… if possible, any dirty laundry as well."
Albert had not ordered it, but digging up weaknesses always left room to use them. Noble politics, as a rule, amounted to stabbing at other people's weak points to line your own pockets. The Intelligence Bureau staff had seen that firsthand, so they obeyed without complaint.
"Start by tearing through the archives! Who has the vault key?"
"I do!"
"Split the report compilation among several people! There may not be that many young lords, but the reports are still going to get pretty thick!"
The entire Intelligence Bureau whirled into busy motion — yet Rose alone remained unhurried.
Ah. My crotch is tingling.
Was it because she had been alone with Albert in that small room? The fragrant scent of a male that had drifted to her nose was stirring her instincts as a woman. To the people of the palace — Rose included — Albert had long held the number-one spot on the "men I want to fuck" list. A cute face of the sort any woman would find appealing, paired with the stamina of a beast. Rumor had it the cock Albert carried could punch straight through your guts… She could not even begin to picture how large that must be.
The young lords cursed him as a vulgar orphan, but in truth they had almost nothing over that orphan. They had been lucky enough to be born into good educations — and that was all. Even the advantage of a good education was fading by the day. The teacher tutoring at Albert's side was none other than Beatrix herself.
In the end, only the Royal Consort comes out on top.
Rose sighed, thinking of the young lords who clung so desperately to status alone. She herself had been raised in a blessed environment as a baron's second daughter. She might never inherit the title, but here she was, working her way up in the central government. If the eldest daughter who was to inherit died, that might change things — but that eldest had already borne a child long ago.
"I definitely left it stored right here! Who touched this?!"
"Hey! You're the one who went digging through everything saying you'd organize it! Get over here!"
Amid the ongoing racket, only Rose kept her post, savoring her ease. Because she practiced self-preservation, she did not chase merit — and because of that, she did not needlessly grind down her subordinates. She was not lacking in ability, either. To the staff of the Intelligence Bureau, Rose was a good boss.
"Albert did what?"
"Yes. He visited the Intelligence Bureau and requested information on the young lords."
In the middle of reviewing documents without pause, Beatrix set down the pen in her hand and lifted her head. Her eyes settled on the maid standing before the desk — the same maid who had delivered the report to Albert.
The young lords.
Beatrix stroked her chin with a finger and sank into thought. She had already heard that the Shadow standing before her had delivered a report to Albert. She knew what was written in that report as well.
"Hmm…"
He reads the report, goes to the Intelligence Bureau, and demands information on the young lords. Knowing the sequence of events, it was easy enough to see why Albert had done it — if you had any capacity to think at all.
"He's too soft."
Stopping at mere persuasion. If it were me, I would just kill them all.
Beatrix sighed, thinking of Albert choosing the troublesome path. He had grown more decisive than before, but there were still plenty of times he showed the face of an ordinary person. She loved that about him — and yet sometimes watching him was frustrating. She would never have dodged an obstacle that got in her way or grated on her nerves. She would have smashed it.
"And the Intelligence Bureau?"
"They already have profiles on the young lords secured, so they're currently digging up only the additional information."
"So they actually do their jobs."
"Yes. It appears they have faithfully carried out Your Majesty's directives."
Of course.
Beatrix nodded as if she had no particular opinion on the matter.
"And him? What's he doing now?"
"After stopping by the Intelligence Bureau, he went to the reception hall. He has an appointment with the tailors."
"That's right, he did."
Whatever clothes he was planning to have made this time… Beatrix's face colored faintly as she looked forward to the night ahead. Every time he summoned the tailors, he always had them make something vulgar for her to wear.