Ch#19
*If I go all the way to that woman’s room, bad rumors will spread.*
Especially thinking of head maid Marsha, who was desperate to tear her down.
*‘Well, what would I even say if I met her? Sorry? Then what does that make Linia?’*
His footsteps, searching for Edel, came to a sudden halt.
His mind felt like a tangled mess.
The desire to meet Edel and apologize, the urge to ignore her, and some strange, indefinable feeling all mixed together, making him hesitate.
*‘Haah, let’s just go back.’*
He turned around in the end.
*Spoils of war*
Duchess
There was nothing he could say even if he met Edel, and seeking her out now would only harm her too.
But his chest still felt stuffy, so he headed to the back garden where the training grounds were.
The cold winter wind pierced through his shirt, but it felt refreshingly cool instead.
“Haah...”
Truly written by Lemon Frog
The deep sigh he let out scattered as white breath.
*‘What the hell am I doing?’*
Staring at the pitch-black back garden, he asked himself.
Serving as Imperial Guard Captain and the Emperor’s bodyguard knight posed no issues.
Reorganizing the mercenary guild under his command and absorbing them into the empire’s military force was also progressing smoothly.
Since the Lancaster Duke’s house was exterminated, it seemed the remaining three great houses were plotting something behind the scenes, but things were still quiet, and building strength to counter them was proceeding steadily step by step.
If he could just focus on work at the imperial palace, his chest wouldn’t feel this stuffy or his head ache like this.
But maintaining and managing this household was an entirely different matter.
- 2 -
.
This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted a title or mansion. Taking care of Linia was hassle enough.
“Hoo...”
A clicking sound of his tongue leaked through his gritted teeth.
Though the Emperor had strongly insisted, he could have refused a title or territory. If he’d pushed back hard enough, saying he didn’t want it even if it killed him.
As the middle-aged man exhaled a long plume of cigar smoke, the reception room with its red carpet grew hazy.
Yet the Emperor had pressed on with persuasion using logic he couldn’t refute.
The man, with his silver hair and pale eyes giving a cold impression, savored the lingering taste of the cigar on his tongue and spoke.
“You must become a symbol for the mercenaries. Half-abandoned mercenaries need hope to live proper lives.”
“Hmm, as expected of Bincov cigars—top quality.”
“No matter how hard you try in Half Rebel or Mirabar, nothing matches a Bincov cigar. Among them, I like this ‘Olga’ brand the most.”
That wasn’t all.
“Thanks to Marquis Tollein, I’ve discovered a fine product. My gratitude.”
“No need. The ‘Moldiba’ that Marquis Winblair smokes is excellent too.”
“Only if you become a new power can you protect <Calliope> from other powers eyeing them. The reason I grant you such a high title is all for that purpose.”
No one here begrudged the 50-rington cigars burning away one by one.
It was utterly impossible not to yield to the Emperor’s persuasion.
After all, those present were solely the heads and heirs of the Pispera Empire’s four great houses—or now three great houses.
As the mood, heated by cigar talk, cooled somewhat, Marquis Tollein broached the main topic obliquely.
*Damn Emperor. His tongue’s as slippery as a snake.*
“By the way... do you all know the atmosphere in high society since the victory banquet?”
In the end, as the Emperor desired, he had become a new power protecting the Emperor. There was still much lacking, but the Emperor didn’t seem to mind much.
“Ah, those flighty fools never change.”
“Let’s use precise words. They’re just cowards.”
“You too will one day accept your fate, Laslo. Just as I had no choice but to accept mine.”
No need to go back to the previous Emperor’s era—even before the Lancaster Duke’s house was exterminated by the Emperor, power had tilted toward the four great houses.
Dimacus’s words, chuckling familiarly as he said he was hopeless at living like a noble, came to mind, but he couldn’t agree at all.
Many nobles had relied more on the four great houses’ power than the imperial family, and among them, the Lancaster Duke’s house wielded influence enough to aim for the throne itself.
What fate? He didn’t even know what to do with Linia right now.
“The Lancaster Duke’s house collapsing so easily is the cause. That house, which seemed more solid than the imperial family, was exterminated by the Emperor—they had no choice but to be scared.”
“It was unexpected. I didn’t think they’d lose so badly to the suppression army, but I figured they’d at least hold out until year-end...”
Accepting this situation as ‘fate’ felt too unjust. He had merely fallen for the Emperor’s schemes and taken on these headaches.
“Indeed. If they’d held out that long, who knows how the situation might have shifted.”
Anyway, he couldn’t just drop everything now, so he had to somehow resolve the immediate issues.
The Lancaster family’s final defeat was about two months ago, on October 15th.
*‘I’ll ask the Imperial Guard for governess recommendations again. Tell Linia this is the last time... On the day she goes to the party, send her off with an expensive necklace—maybe those noisy hens will be more cautious?’*
Everyone believed that if they’d endured until year-end, they could have regrouped for a month under the Asker Church’s canon forbidding all combat in January.
However, Marquis Winblair Isaac thought differently.
Laslo came up with the easiest solutions, without even considering his own position of not having set foot in high society yet.
“Even if they’d held out that long, could we have supported the Lancaster house? With the ‘treason’ label attached?”
.
