Chapter 473: Taking Office
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 473: Taking Office
"Is this... an appointment?"
On the exquisite, gold-embossed paper, the text was written in an elegant copperplate script that looked almost as perfect as a printout.
Ninety percent of the document was filled with highly formal officialese, expressing heartfelt praise and appreciation for Muen Campbell—son of Duke Campbell, a rising star of the Empire, and the young knight who had just received a personal reward from the Pope in the Holy City. It also offered condolences in the name of the Emperor of the Leopold Empire.
None of that mattered.
What mattered was the final sentence.
"By special decree, Muen Campbell, eldest son of Duke Campbell, is hereby appointed as Inspector to oversee flood relief efforts in the northern Sidel Territory."
"Sidel Territory? Floods?"
Muen’s brow furrowed slightly.
He was no longer the naive newcomer he had been when he first arrived in this world. As the future Duke, he had spent considerable time studying the various regions of the Empire.
He knew that the Sidel Territory was located in the far north, bordering the Slav Kingdom. It was a cold region prone to heavy snow in the winter. However, warm sea breezes would sweep in during the spring thaw. Combined with the unique local terrain, the melting snow would rush down the valleys every spring. This, coupled with increasing rainfall, inevitably resulted in floods that ravaged the valley plains.
Since there was a flood, someone needed to manage the relief efforts.
And now... His Majesty was ordering him to oversee it?
Muen rubbed his thumb over the unmistakable royal seal at the bottom of the letter.
Being an Inspector for disaster relief was actually a plum assignment. As an "Inspector," one didn't need to do any of the actual grunt work, yet could easily claim the lion's share of the credit. If one were "clever" and "open-minded" enough, it was even a simple matter to skim a massive amount of profit from the funds.
For a high-ranking noble like Muen, such a task—which bolstered one's resume and enhanced one's reputation—was undoubtedly a perfect opportunity to gild his name. Most nobles would struggle for a lifetime and never see such a chance.
Under normal circumstances, Muen would have accepted it gladly, spending a few months wandering about as if on a sightseeing tour to broaden his horizons.
But now...
"His Majesty is gravely ill, and Senior Sister is overwhelmed by the various Evil God incidents. Yet, out of nowhere, I’m handed such a 'generous' assignment. The timing... is certainly suspicious."
A cold glint flashed in Muen’s eyes as he looked at the messenger.
"Who is currently handling the Empire’s administrative affairs?"
"His Majesty, naturally."
The messenger wore a smile that looked like a porcelain mask. His movements and etiquette were far too refined for a mere courier. "I must ask Young Master Campbell to refrain from reckless talk. His Majesty is merely ill; such rumors would not be good for your reputation."
"Let me rephrase that. Who is currently assisting His Majesty with the burden of state affairs?"
"His Highness, the Second Prince, is handling matters in coordination with several ministers."
The messenger didn't hide much, as this was information Muen could easily verify.
"The Second Prince?"
Muen tapped the armrest of the carriage.
Andrew Leopold.
Muen didn't know much about the man. He hadn't had many dealings with the Second Prince, who had always maintained an extremely low profile.
Given that the First Prince suffered from a congenital defect, the Second Prince was the first in the line of succession. With the Emperor ill, it was only logical for him to act as regent.
Except...
Why is His Highness getting mixed up with those parasites? Does he not understand where his power base lies?
Muen couldn't wrap his head around it.
As the man who was practically guaranteed to be the next Emperor, Andrew should have been upholding the Emperor’s political direction and standing with the Royalist Faction. Instead, the Second Prince had issued a bizarre order to send the son of the Royalist leader away from Belland at such a critical juncture. It was almost like... a betrayal.
Duke Campbell was away leading the army, the Emperor was bedridden, and now Muen was being sent away. The Royalist Faction would be left leaderless. Who would suppress those greedy nobles who were already seething with resentment over the recent crackdowns?
Was the Second Prince planning to rely on his "regal charisma" alone?
The ministers are ready to fight to the death, so why is Your Highness surrendering first?
Or was there some other factor at play that he wasn't aware of?
Muen rubbed the bridge of his nose. Being away from the eye of the storm made it difficult to see the full scale of the tempest.
But if he wanted to step into that storm...
Muen’s gaze fell back onto the appointment letter. The cold paper suddenly felt as if it were burning, searing his hand.
"Does Young Master Campbell intend to continue forward?"
The messenger spoke up suddenly, his eyes fixed intently on Muen. "This road leads to Belland. The road to the Sidel Territory is not this way."
"Are you trying to stop me?"
Muen’s voice turned icy.
With a subtle flick of his fingers, several powerful auras erupted from the shadows surrounding the carriage, pressing down on the messenger like collapsing mountains.
"No... no, you misunderstand."
The messenger’s mask of a smile shattered instantly. Drenched in cold sweat, he bowed deeply and scrambled out of the way. "With your status, you are naturally free to go wherever you please."
"..."
Muen withdrew his gaze.
It was true. Given his status, he could simply ignore the decree and force his way back to Belland.
But that would give his enemies a reason to attack the Campbells. Disobeying a direct imperial order—they could make that charge as heavy as they wanted. In these treacherous political waters, even a tiny crack could be fatal, let alone a blunder that even a fool would know how to exploit.
"What a wonderful 'gift' this is."
After a long silence, Muen sighed softly, appearing to have resigned himself to reality. "Go back and tell those behind you: I will follow the decree."
"As expected of Young Master Campbell. Truly—"
"Get lost."
"Yes, right away, I'm going..."
The messenger scrambled away, disappearing into the deep night. Silence returned to the surroundings.
On the wide road, the only sounds were Muen’s fingers tapping the wooden armrest and his steady, rhythmic breathing.
"Let’s go," he signaled the carriage to move. "To the Sidel Territory."
"But... Young Master, are we really going?" The subordinate’s voice from outside the carriage was hesitant. "At such a critical time, if you aren't in Belland, things might..."
"We’re going. Why wouldn't we? Do you think I would disobey His Majesty’s orders?"
Muen leaned his head on his hand, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Not only are we going, but we’re going with great fanfare. In three days, I want the Lord and the Governor of the Sidel Territory to hold a grand banquet to welcome Muen Campbell. Every displaced citizen in the Sidel Territory shall receive aid from the Campbell family!"
"Understood."
The well-trained subordinate quickly grasped Muen’s intent and began to execute the order with loyalty.
However, a moment later, his hesitant voice drifted back into the carriage. "Um... Young Master, to provide aid to every displaced citizen in the Sidel Territory... the funding..."
"...How many manors does my old man still have in Belland?" Muen asked after a moment of thought.
"Roughly... of the ones we can liquidate immediately... I believe there are three left."
"Sell them!"
"Yes, sir!"
*
The night receded as dawn broke.
Birds took flight from the forest, circling a few times before flying off into the morning dew.
The last image reflected in the eyes of those birds was a magnificent carriage bearing the Campbell crest, speeding away—in the exact opposite direction of Belland.
It seemed the son of the Duke had finally chosen to compromise.
But just as the carriage was nearing the Sidel Territory, a man wearing a slightly undersized, awkward formal suit and a tall top hat stood outside the walls of Belland. In the morning light, he gazed at the waking capital.
"The one who compromised was Muen Campbell. What does that have to do with me, Bruce?"
The man adjusted his tall hat, revealing half of a stern face with the distinct features of a northern Slav.
The Lower District was still untouched by the sun, silent and still, as if loyally awaiting the arrival of its Emperor.