The Ambassador's Downfall
The reactions of the envoys, caught off guard by the situation, were all much the same. They denied everything at first, then insisted on a face-to-face meeting with whoever had made the claim.
Once they stood before the man himself, they figured they could size up the situation and bluster or talk their way out of it.
"Your Excellency! The people of the Republic are greedy, scheming, cunning creatures! You must not believe a word they say!"
There was no falsehood in the envoy's voice. He seemed to genuinely believe it.
Ah. Well, that makes sense.
Come to think of it, the odds that the envoys knew the truth were slim. This was the fabrication of a fake imperial prince, after all. Only the nobles directly involved and a handful within the palace needed to be in on it.
It must have felt like a bolt from the blue to the envoys, but there was nothing to be done about it. Johan began wielding the information Hormaric had given him like a whip.
"I have already heard of this man Agarphos and his house. The fourth son of House Hadonus, is he not? Did you think that because I am dragon beastfolk, I would fail to recognize true blood?"
"...?"
As Johan went into detail about the powerful noble houses of the Empire, the envoys could no longer hide their bewilderment.
Johan knew far more about the Empire's internal affairs than they had imagined.
Worse, as they listened to his long, thorough account of what kind of man Agarphos actually was, they began to wonder—could it really be true that Agarphos was no imperial prince at all?
"Does this make any sense? That Lord Agarphos was never truly of the imperial bloodline?"
"...Hmm. Well, I am not well versed in the palace's affairs..."
Aside from the imperial family, the eunuchs, and a few select officials, palace matters were nearly impossible to access. Drag some low-ranking noble in and call him a fraud, and outsiders would have no way to verify it.
"Surely the Grand Chamberlain would never devise such a scheme..."
"...One cannot say he wouldn't."
"...Y-yes, I suppose. That is true..."
"Are you admitting it?"
"!?"
At Johan's words, the envoys nearly fainted from shock. They had been speaking in the Ancient Imperial Language.
The nobles of Vinashitim, styling themselves heirs of the Empire, used the old tongue among themselves. When conversing privately away from outsiders, it was only natural to slip into Ancient Imperial—and Johan had understood every word, as if it were his mother tongue.
How could a man from the Holy Empire—a knight no better than a barbarian—?
"There is nothing left to deliberate. Imprison the envoys and confiscate everything they carry! I shall send word to Vinashitim and demand accountability for this affair. If they cannot provide a proper explanation, they will face my blade!"
"Your Excellency! Your Excellency, wait, please—"
The envoys desperately tried to calm Johan's fury, but it was no use. Johan hadn't been acting out of anger in the first place.
Had Johan been a genuine noble, he might have raged and wailed at losing a chance tied to a noble bloodline. But in truth, Johan could not have cared less about any Ancient Imperial lineage.
Everyone carried on about dragon beastfolk as if it were something extraordinary, and honestly, he couldn't see what the big deal was.
If I could transform into a dragon and breathe fire, maybe. Otherwise it's just horns, eyes, fingers, and a tongue that look a bit different, plus some scales on the body. Might as well be a lucky Johnny.
Gianna was serpent beastfolk, so at a glance she resembled the dragon folk well enough. Of course, saying that aloud anywhere in Vinashitim would get him cut down in broad daylight.
In any case, even if Johan couldn't share the sentiment, he understood the symbolism and legitimacy that bloodline carried. Anything old enough accrues authority.
Which meant that now was the time to direct that righteous fury at the swindlers who had tried to cheat it.
After confining the envoys, Johan summoned Hormaric and showered him with applause and praise. More than that, he gifted him a beautiful treasure from among the spoils of the Countdom.
Loyalty, after all, was best maintained when its rewards came promptly and reliably.
Hormaric wept copiously and swore his allegiance to Johan all over again. Johan raised him up a few more times, then moved on to the real business.
"Among the things the envoys discussed, the Chamberlain's name came up. Do you happen to know who that is?"
"Ah... that man. Yes, I do. He is the true power behind the Empire."
It was easy to mistake, but serving as chamberlain to a high noble was itself an honor reserved for nobles. The one who presided over all such chamberlains—the Grand Chamberlain—held one of the key posts of any court.
"Vinashitim is currently ruled by two co-emperors. But both are young, so their uncle has taken the seat of Grand Chamberlain and governs as their regent."
"Quite young, then. Ten or so?"
"The elder brother would be twenty."
"...I... see."
Johan bit back the urge to ask Hormaric, did you forget how old I am?
Vinashitim's political system was an odd one. Multiple emperors was a convention seen often enough, and people accepted it without batting an eye.
And frankly, twenty was old enough that having a regent rule in one's place raised no eyebrows. It was also young enough that a lack of political experience raised none either.
"That uncle strikes me as rather ambitious."
"Yes. Lord Leoanos has quite the... reputation."
"He doesn't intend to take the throne for himself?"
Johan found it strange. Young emperors and an ambitious uncle—a situation where the uncle drawing a sword and seizing the throne would surprise no one.
From what he'd heard, Vinashitim was a country where emperors were deposed and new ones raised up with remarkable frequency. If he were gambling, the odds more than justified the bet.
"Hahaha. That is impossible. For one thing, Lord Leoanos was born of a concubine, and he does not carry the Dragon Bloodline..."
"If it's politically costly, there must be more imperial kin than just those two. Why not fetch some distant branch of the bloodline and stage a rebellion?"
"...Ah. Huh. You're right."
Hormaric was struck speechless. The more he thought about it, the more plausible Johan's words sounded.
"I'd always dismissed that as rumor, but hearing you say it... maybe there was a reason that talk was circulating after all."
"Lord Hormaric, you truly are a remarkably capable talent."
At Johan's praise, Hormaric grinned ear to ear. He was quite deft with numbers and paperwork, but this made clear his political instincts left something to be desired.
Well, no matter.
No one needed to be good at everything. Johan promised Hormaric the position of treasurer he so dearly wanted. With several newly acquired territories, appointing a single treasurer was an easy matter.
Hormaric swore his loyalty once more, tears and all.
"In the name of Saint Gratedi, a toast to House Jepol!"
"To House Jepol!"
The people of the Republic cheered and raised their voices in celebration of Giada's family. Giada wore a dazed expression.
"I shall report this to the homeland without fail, my lord. There were those who slandered you, but I never believed them. Were you not the man who sailed faster than any and brought home more profit than all the rest? And to handle affairs this masterfully on top of it."
"Ah, yes, thank you."
"A toast to the modest House Jepol!"
"A toast to the con artists of Vinashitim!"
The Republic's people had been in full panic at first, but once the news arrived, they regained their composure.
The story went that the Vinashitim dogs had tried to run a swindle, been caught red-handed, and were now sitting in confinement. From the Republic's standpoint, it could only feel like a providential stroke of fortune—a miracle of the gods.
How could Count Yeitz possibly have found out? There could be only one answer: a Republic man close to him—Giada of House Jepol, no less—had swiftly gathered the intelligence and exposed the plot!
"Long live Giada! Long live the Republic!"
"Shut your mouths, you bleating flock!"
"Keep up that racket and I'll fetch the soldiers!"
As the drunken Republic men roared for the entire guildhall to clear out, merchants of other nations lodged in the neighboring halls hurled curses back at them. The Republic could party all it liked; it was no concern of theirs.
"What a laugh. The most favored of this port is none other than our Rep—"
"H-hey. Aren't those soldiers coming this way?"
"......"
The Republic merchants fell silent in an instant. Among other merchants they could brag all they wanted that the Republic was the noblest and greatest—but Count Yeitz's temper was another matter entirely.
Getting themselves banished or fined for mouthing off over a little favoritism would serve them right...
"Lord Giada of House Jepol? His Excellency requests your presence."
"Oh. Yes. I'll come at once."
"Giada, he's surely calling you to sing your praises for this affair. Go well!"
The tipsy Republic men saw Giada off with delight as if it were their own triumph. To Giada himself, of course, it was nothing short of absurd.
I didn't do a damned thing, you idiots...
"Ah, that. I have connections within the Empire, and they tipped me off."
"...!"
At Johan's matter-of-fact explanation, a chill ran down Giada's spine. It sounded simple enough, but building an intelligence network across that sea, inside the Empire itself, was anything but simple.
The Republic knew Vinashitim's affairs relatively well thanks to relationships cultivated over long centuries. The Republic's legation and residential quarter in Vinashitim had been handed down for hundreds of years.
Johan, however, was all but a foreigner on this peninsula, a man who had carved out his power with strength and steel. And yet he had obtained the information a step ahead of the Republic.
Giada couldn't even begin to guess when or how he'd managed it. It bordered on awe.
"Why that expression?"
"It's nothing, my lord. Now then—what would you have me do?"
Johan grinned. Giada's practical attitude suited his own temperament perfectly. They could get straight to business.
"Now that things have come to this, I want to extract as much as I possibly can. But as you know, I'm not well versed in how Vinashitim operates. I would like your counsel."
"Truly humble of you, Your Excellency."
"?"
Johan had no idea what he meant. Humble? Where had that come from?
From Giada's perspective, the fact that Johan—clearly already well informed about Vinashitim—was deliberately asking for advice could only read one way.
Such humility, to seek counsel on matters he already knew, refusing to trust even his own certainty. Giada spoke up, a touch nervous.
"What is it Your Excellency desires, then? The bloodline of the Ancient Empire, after all?"
The Ancient Imperial blood carried more than symbolism and legitimacy. It held one further value:
The right to enter the succession contest of Vinashitim itself!
There was a reason Vinashitim guarded so jealously against its bloodline leaking beyond its borders.
"No. I have little interest in that."
But Johan had no particular interest in the Vinashitim throne. Better to remain a mere territorial lord—who in their right mind would want to balance a dozen squabbling factions while ruling? And as a foreigner among foreigners, it would only be harder still.
"If you do not want the bloodline, that makes things considerably easier."
"What I want is an official apology and reparations. Do you think that's feasible?"
"One of them will be difficult."
"Ah, so the reparations are the hard part."
Johan said this with regret. He had already confiscated the gold the delegation had brought. Even were he in the Empire's position, he'd be loath to cough up reparations on top of that.
"Pardon? No, my lord. Reparations will be easy."
"Did I not mention I seized the delegation's gold?"
Battered by territorial losses and weakened militarily, Vinashitim remained wealthy all the same. Blessed by the gods with its position, the wealth and treasures of the world flowed ceaselessly into its harbor.
There was a reason merchants from every foreign nation—not just the Republic's—flocked to Vinashitim to trade.
"...!"
Hearing this, Johan's resolve wavered slightly. He'd known Vinashitim was rich in gold, but he hadn't imagined it was that rich.
"Which means the gold to be paid to Your Excellency is a trifle. The formal apology, however... that is somewhat..."
"Difficult, I take it. I understand what you mean."
The closer a place was to ruin, the stiffer its pride. This was not a matter that could be settled with cold logic.
Being found out by a newly minted Count was humiliation enough—but a formal apology on top of it?
The nobles of the Empire would go mad with fury.
"Truth be told, what I want is the gold. The apology I can accept unofficially."
"Then surely it is quite achievable. And should they refuse..."
"Should they?"
"You need only march Your Excellency's army there and stage a show of force. Seeing it in person is what will truly shock them. Though I doubt it will come to that."