The Marriage Envoy
"A delegation, you say? Not from the Republic, though...?"
"Is that so?"
Johan found it curious. With the Republic set aside, there weren't many quarters left who could plausibly send an envoy.
"Did the merchants of the city-states send someone?"
The Venedo Republic was hardly the only city-state on the peninsula. A scattering of them dotted the middle and northern reaches, and they all took a keen interest in the trade network now driven by the league of the south. Of course, the Republic, as the closest and most favored partner, enjoyed benefits the others could never match — but even setting that aside, southern trade was well worth diving into.
To the east lay the sea lanes to the Eastern Empire; to the west, routes to the Hundred Kingdoms and beyond. It was a gift of geography, plain and simple.
"No, my lord. The delegation comes from Vinashitim."
The Vinashitim Empire. In truth it bore a long Ancient Imperial name beginning with Vidonaithepharothra, but unless the occasion was formally solemn, even the Vinashitim themselves didn't bother with it.
Besides, the empire of today was a thing in decline, sinking slowly into ruin. Threatened in the north by the petty kingdoms of the Ulcana Peninsula and in the east by the Eastern heathen empire — small wonder that among the empire's own people and the peninsula folk alike, it had earned the mocking name of the Empire of the Old Blind Man.
But old and sick though it might be, a lion was still a lion, and an empire was still an empire. As befitted those who claimed descent from the Ancient Empire, their reserve of strength remained formidable.
The Doges of the Republic held imperial titles, and the nobles of the neighboring petty kingdoms coveted them as well — for good reason. The legitimacy and august renown carried by the oldest of empires were a power all their own.
"Oh..."
From Johan's standpoint, this was no bad news at all. Fresh authority layered atop existing authority — what could be wrong with that? All the more so when his grip on the south was still barely settled.
"Well, this is awkward..."
"Is there some trouble between you and the Vinashitim, my lord?"
"The trouble will be you, won't it."
Suetelg said it with a look of utter disbelief.
The Hundred Kingdoms and all the land south of it had originally been fiefs of the Vinashitim Empire. Lost over the centuries — seized by heathens, then seized again by the people of the Sacred Empire.
"But that was ages ago. Who in their right mind would demand the land back now, or insist you swear vassalage? No one but a madman would try it."
"Hmm. True enough, I suppose."
After several hundred years, demanding the return of ancient soil was laughable. And proposing that Johan, master of the southern league, become a vassal of the empire would be equally laughable.
Anyone making such an offer would have to structure it so that Johan received all the honor and virtually none of the obligations — otherwise he simply wouldn't accept. In practice, that meant treating him as a petty king in all but name, which left the Vinashitim side with nothing to gain whatsoever.
If anything, the likelier outcome was that the Vinashitim nobles would erupt in furious opposition: 'Giving away that much to an outsider? Have they lost their minds?'
"I hear the Vinashitim nobles are exactly that bloody-minded, aren't they?"
"...Ahem. There is, at least, some truth to the rumor."
Suetelg glanced around — a token gesture to preserve the dignity of Johan, who was, after all, a count now. Fortunately, no one had overheard.
"Their customs are simply... rather different from ours, you see."
The Sacred Empire was an empire in name only — really a patchwork stitched together from the domains of countless lords.
Vinashitim, by contrast, had an emperor who genuinely wielded the full authority of 'emperor,' and a state that could honestly be called an empire in form as well.
By Johan's reckoning, it was the sort of country that made you think, 'Well, this much at least deserves to be called a nation.'
The slapdash system of the Sacred Empire — dispatching a single clerk to collect taxes and a priest to ask, 'And how many souls live on your lands?' — had always chilled Johan to the bone.
Yet even the Vinashitim emperor could not simply do as he pleased. In some respects he had to mind his step more carefully than any Sacred Emperor.
The support of the capital's citizenry. The support of the church's priests. The support of the Vinashitim nobility. The support of the army...
Lose any of that, and in an instant another noble could proclaim himself emperor and take the throne — and by long custom, such usurpations were tolerated. The authority was there in name, but the role demanded a constant balancing act under crushing scrutiny from every side.
"Being the Vinashitim emperor sounds exhausting."
"The imperial nobles never tire of mocking them for it."
From the Sacred Empire's perspective, where a lord was effectively a king within his own domain, Vinashitim ways could only look strange.
"Still, you have to admit you're envious of their bureaucracy. A administrative apparatus maintained across centuries — I'm genuinely, sincerely envious of that."
"...Out of everything you could envy, you pick the bureaucracy?"
Not the bloodline handed down from the Ancient Empire, nor the name — the bureaucracy. Truly, Johan was Johan.
"Marriage?!"
Johan's voice cracked with bewilderment. It was a proposal he had never once imagined. The envoy, visibly satisfied at having startled him, pressed on.
"Yes, my lord! What honor could better befit the man reborn as master of the south?"
Taking multiple consorts was frowned upon by the church, though never outright forbidden. And if the other party was imperial kin of Vinashitim, the praise would drown out any worldly censure. Was this not the bloodline descended from the Ancient Empire itself?
Vinashitim took staggering pride in that blood and rarely let a drop of it pass beyond their borders. That they would even make such an offer proved how valuable Johan had become. With enemies on all sides, the Vinashitim Empire had urgent need of a solid ally.
The problem was...
"Lord Agarphos, famed throughout the empire for his beauty, is wise and devout, and wholly untouched by scandal. I am certain he will please you."
'...If they're going to marry me off, a princess would have been preferable...'
Johan sank into troubled thought, a sour look on his face. He'd heard of marriages between men, but only in passing; now that one had landed on his doorstep, the matter felt considerably more complicated.
True, one could wed and live separately without anyone raising an eyebrow — but human hearts were never so simple, and for an outsider like Johan, full adaptation had proven difficult.
"The following dowry has been prepared — a dowry worthy of your lordship's honor."
Annual tributes of Vinashitim gold, and honorable offices besides. The offer was mouthwatering enough that Johan nearly said, 'Fine, why not.'
"...Very well. I shall give the matter consideration."
"Thank you, my lord."
"The Vinashitim bastards sent a marriage delegation!"
The Republic's people, quartered in the city's guildhall as was their allotted right, nearly fainted on the spot. The fastest courier available shot off for the homeland like an arrow.
"We have to stop this! Stop it by any means necessary!"
"You useless idiots — what in the name of hell were you doing that you never even heard a proposal like this was in motion?!"
No emperor could issue such an offer on his own whim. It required deliberations from the senate on down through each noble house, and a formal grant of permission at the end of it all. The Republic's merchants moved freely through the cities of the Vinashitim Empire, playing merchant and spy alike — and they had seen nothing.
"Ghiada! I'm told you're on close terms with Count Yeitz. You must persuade his lordship."
"Of course! I'll do my utmost!"
'What a load of nonsense.' Ghiada sneered inwardly. A generous dowry and a bridegroom of glittering lineage — who on earth was going to turn that down?
But from the Republic merchants' standpoint, there was no help for it.
The relationship between the Republic and the Vinashitim Empire had always been a delicate one. Once, long ago, the Republic had been their vassal; today it was effectively independent — and judged purely by its reach in every direction, the Republic now towered over the old empire.
In the eastern trade, and in the colonies of the Ulcana Peninsula, the two were rivals. Not outright enemies, but hardly intimate allies either.
If Vinashitim joined hands with Johan, the Republic would find its throat squeezed shut overnight. It absolutely could not be allowed.
"A fine opportunity, my friend. The Vinashitim bloodline is the Dragon Bloodline, is it not? Take such a consort, and your glory will shine all the brighter."
"Glory is not everything in this world, Ezellia."
"Ahh, I see what you mean. You fear being called to war as your ally's duty? A trifle, measured against what you'd receive. One need only show the barest gesture of commitment. And should it weigh too heavily on you, I will take up arms and march in your place."
Ezellia, ever the elf knight, was wholeheartedly in favor.
It was honor itself, distilled — and a military alliance through marriage was familiar fare to an elf knight. Poor elf knights who took gold in exchange for fighting another's wars were a daily occurrence; when someone paid such a handsome price for your sword, selling it was simply what a knight did.
'And they call me the elf...'
"My lord. Someone wishes an audience with you — in secret, away from eyes, they said..."
"The Republic's envoy? Tell them they're not to enter."
Ghiada had already given him the warning, so Johan knew. The Republic's quarter of the city was burning hot at the moment, like a house on fire. He had no intention of inviting headaches before reaching a decision.
"No, my lord. It is Lord Hormaric."
"Hormaric? Show him in."
The third child of Duke Brudhe, come calling. Johan welcomed him, puzzlement plain on his face.
"Well, look at you — covered in dust! Had you announced your rank beforehand, I'd have made preparations..."
"Please, no, Count Yeitz!"
Hormaric bowed with scrupulous care. The Johan before him now was not the Johan of old. Presumptuousness like in the old days could see him thrown out before he'd said a word.
Johan smiled warmly.
"How deep our friendship runs, and has run since long ago — what use is ceremony between us? Please, sit and be at ease."
'Were they that close?'
Ezellia tilted her head. They didn't look particularly friendly to her.
If anything, it looked more like servant and master.
Johan personally took Hormaric's outer coat and handed him a basin of warm water. At that small kindness, Hormaric's eyes brimmed over.
"Ohh, hnngh! There is no one, hnn, as honorable as your lordship, sob..."
"Think nothing of it. What brings you all this way?"
"To tell you, hnngh, of the Vinashitim dogs' treachery, hnk! My lord..."
"!"
Hormaric, having grown close to Sir Gareld, had seen a chance and traveled to the Vinashitim Empire. As blood of the ducal house, he could command a certain standing there.
Vinashitim was a beautiful land, and Hormaric drank it in completely. He met and mingled with any number of nobles, picked up opportunities here and there, and cast about for anything he might make his own.
And in the course of it, he heard something almost beyond belief.
"This Agarphos fellow is not imperial kin! He's from a mere lesser noble house — a fraud, disguised as a dragon beastfolk!"
"...?!"
Hormaric was a frequent guest at debauched banquets, and at a banquet in some far province he'd overheard a careless remark: 'A member of a distant cousin's house of mine has just entered the imperial palace and is receiving the education of a false prince.'
Curiosity took hold; he dug and asked around, and behind the rumor lay something more staggering still. That this impostor was being prepared precisely as the one to be sent to Count Yeitz.
Hormaric had sprinted across the land at once and boarded a ship bound for Johan's court. Truly dazzling loyalty.
'Well, well. Worth all the effort I put into him, clearly.'
Johan felt an unaccustomed swell of pride. He hadn't known the man could deliver something of this caliber.
"You, you must keep it secret that I told you this. You will, won't you, my lord?"
"Of course. No one shall ever know."
Johan himself feared nothing, but Hormaric was another matter. The Vinashitim nobles might erupt in rage on the spot; they might fall upon one or two of his tiny islands. There was a reason he had concealed his rank and sought Johan out in secret.
"These vile, shameless wretches — who do they think they can deceive?! They must be cut down!"
Ezellia was furious beyond measure. Their bloodline might be precious to them, but to resort to outright fraud?
"Calm yourself, Ezellia. This isn't a matter for blood on the blade. Though if I can't reveal that Lord Hormaric told me, my position in this discussion will be a touch awkward... Ah."
Johan had a splendid idea.
"The people of the Republic have already told me — no such prince exists in the imperial palace! You trot out an impostor before me. Do you take me for a fool?"
"No, my lord! It's a misunderstanding! Allow me to bring you face to face with the Republic man who said such a thing!"