Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 16 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Of Kings and Overlords

Several days had passed since Ryoma Mikoshiba arrived in Pireas. Life in the capital hadn’t changed much. People still freely walked the streets, laughing and smiling as ever. Peddlers entered the city gates, and countless wagons cruised along the roads. It was another ordinary moment in an otherwise unextraordinary day. Or so it seemed. Under the surface, the rumblings of great change were gradually growing louder, preparing to swallow the city.

That day, two people met in a large estate hidden in a thick forest on Pireas’s outskirts. One of them was a young man, his face mature for his age. The other was a beautiful woman, her chestnut hair elegantly pulled back.

They sat on the sofas in the spacious office, facing each other. The atmosphere between them was relaxed, as if they owned the place. The teapot, cups, and cakes sitting on the table next to them hinted that they did.

The room was originally the study of the mansion’s owner, but the relaxed way with which they occupied it seemed to imply that it was theirs. That wasn’t to say they owned the estate, though, or that they were even related to its owner by blood.

According to Rhoadseria’s register, the owner of this estate was Count Thomas Salzberg. The count, however, was no longer in this world; he’d died at the hands of Ryoma Mikoshiba. Since there was no formal succession of the family head yet, this mansion belonged to his legal wife, Yulia Salzberg.

The two people using the room were technically guests of the manor’s owner, who was currently out. As guests, they were equals, yet there was an obvious difference in their positions—the hierarchical difference between a monarch and his retainer.

“How go the preparations?” Ryoma asked Simone Christof, who sat opposite of him. “The evening party’s around the corner. If there are any problems, I’d rather you point them out sooner rather than later.”

Simone nodded and reached for a stack of documents she’d prepared beforehand.

“Things are going more or less smoothly. Mr. Boltz has finished paving the road from the Wortenia Peninsula to Epirus, so delivering supplies should go smoothly. The same can’t be said for the roads south of Epirus, unfortunately. The deaths of the ten houses’ heads has muddled things there, so deliveries could take longer than planned. The highways haven’t been properly serviced in months. But we built our schedule accounting for some delays, so it should arrive on time for the dinner party.”

A sigh escaped Ryoma’s lips. Simone watched him anxiously. She was confident she’d done her job perfectly, but she also knew how important the upcoming party was for the Mikoshiba barony.

After staring into space for a few seconds, Ryoma eventually said, “I see... Well, it’s all within an acceptable margin of error. Still, a delay in supplies is pretty bad news. Although, given what’s to come, servicing the roads at this point would be a waste, and doing so could cause other complications for us. It’s a difficult question...”

Typically, each domain’s governor maintained the highways that crossed their lands. If new land was under development, the country would sometimes initiate the paving, but in most cases, the regional governors would coordinate operations with one another and then the country would approve their plan. This power over transportation infrastructure was indicative of the vast authority nobles held.

But great authority also came with many troubles. Managing a highway was a lot of work. The priority was periodically repairing and maintaining the barrier pillars that kept monsters at bay, as well as maintaining the flagstones that paved the road, but there were plenty of other issues—too numerous to count. Removing weeds was backbreaking work, and whenever a storm or a typhoon occurred, the mud and fallen trees would have to be cleared. However, since the governors in the north who handled this job were now gone, there was no one to manage and maintain the roads anymore.

I figured they’d just breed more problems if I kept them alive, but...

The ten houses had ruled over northern Rhoadseria since the country’s inception, but most of their bloodlines had been terminated during Ryoma’s war with Count Salzberg. Of the ten, only three remained: House Salzberg, with Lady Yulia as its provisional successor; House Galveria, which Signus had inherited; and House Bertrand, which Robert would go on to inherit. The ten had been reduced to fewer than a third of their number, and Queen Lupis hadn’t approved any of their inheritances yet either. This meant that, strictly speaking, even for those three exceptions, succession was still incomplete. In a way, all ten houses were currently in a state of limbo.

That was where Ryoma’s plan came in. He picked promising people from among the seven remaining houses and appointed them as temporary heads. Should their work prove reliable, they could restore their respective family lines.

Who knows how that will go, though.

In Ryoma’s opinion, most of the nobles in this world were terrible statesmen. It wasn’t because their taxation was severe, although he wouldn’t deny their greed altogether either. Nobles everywhere shared a disproportionate sense of hubris—meaningless pride. The way they clung to their rights while shirking their responsibilities didn’t sit well with Ryoma.

Nobles had duties, a statesman’s obligations and responsibilities. Those duties could be described in a number of ways, but it all boiled down to a singular idea: the safety and prosperity of their vassals. In Ryoma’s eyes, so long as they fulfilled this duty, they could take as many bribes or have as many mistresses as they wanted. But as far as he could see, most nobles didn’t recognize this obligation. Of course, they would often say they did what they did for the country or the people. If one just listened to their slogans and justifications, one would think them admirable rulers. But those words were all empty gestures they never acted on.

In Ryoma’s mind, the nobles were driven by greed and nothing else. After all, nobles typically spent most of their taxes on their own personal pleasures. Consequently, he saw no value in keeping them alive. Rhoadseria’s nobles in particular were typically coldhearted and arrogant. Knowing them, even if Ryoma did spare them, they wouldn’t thank him for it. In fact, they’d be outraged by the prospect of an upstart taking pity on them and swear revenge.

With all that in mind, Ryoma had handled the defeated nobles as he saw fit.

But maybe I got rid of too many of them?

His plans required that the heads of the ten houses be eliminated—that much was for certain—and he’d intentionally punished them severely in order to stir up the nobles’ hatred. All the same, Ryoma wondered if putting it off would have been better. There was no point regretting it after the fact, though.

“So, we’ve prepared the ingredients for the meal. What about the chef, and the orchestra? Are those preparations complete too?” Ryoma asked.

Simone took a sheet of paper from the bundle of documents and extended it to Ryoma. “The orchestra’s been arranged for. They requested a hefty payment, but they’re a famous troupe that has performed at royal banquets before. As for the chef, I did find one, but...”

Ryoma scanned over the document she gave him. “I see. Kikuna Samejima...”

It was a Japanese name, the likes of which he hadn’t heard in some time, aside from members of the Igasaki clan. The nostalgia it prompted would have flustered most people, but Ryoma had anticipated that this could happen, and he wasn’t going to let homesickness overwhelm him now. All he felt was the realization that a possibility he’d predicted turned out to be true.

I can see why Simone’s unsure about it.

Simone carried on, gauging Ryoma’s reactions. “As you specified, I went to Epirus’s guild with our request. After a month of waiting, she was the one who accepted our request. She had a recommendation from the guild’s manager attesting to her skill and upstanding personality.”

“A recommendation, eh?” Ryoma replied with a cold smile.

Forming connections and human relationships was important in this world. Employment was akin to serving a master, and freedom of employment wasn’t guaranteed like it was in the modern world. For example, one could be hired to work at a mercantile house, and assuming they weren’t fired, they were expected to devote their life to their place of employment.

Be that as it may, it did have its advantages. An upfront mercantile house would not only pay a wage, but also provide lodgings and meals and mediate marriages for unmarried workers. Plus, if the master acknowledged the employee’s work, the employee could even become an independent merchant later down the line. In that regard, the terms of employment were far from terrible.

If there was one problem, it was getting work in the first place. Hiring a complete nobody was a pretty considerable risk, since who was to say they were trustworthy. Anyone could learn to read and do basic calculations, but employers needed to know their employees wouldn’t steal their wares or money. This applied not just to merchants, but nobles seeking to hire servants as well. They sought trustworthy employees who would work for them long-term. For this reason, many employers picked their workers from among their relatives and friends.

In other words, connections decided one’s employment, but not everyone had those kinds of connections. In fact, people talented in human relations were hard to come by. That was where the guild came in. It handled people from all sorts of fields, not just adventurers and mercenaries. It was like a multinational corporation, and part of their business included functioning as human resource consultants mediating between employers and the unemployed. The guild guaranteed the prospective workers’ abilities, so employers could hire them with peace of mind.

In that sense, it wasn’t unusual that Ryoma had consulted the guild to hire a chef. Even if he had entirely other motives for doing so, it didn’t come across as the slightest bit suspicious.

“And? Did you test her skills?” Ryoma asked. This chef would be charged with cooking for an important evening party, so even with the guild manager’s recommendation, they needed to ensure her skills were reliable.

“Yes,” Simone confirmed. “The recommendation stated that she worked as head chef for a certain company in Dreisen, the capital of Helnesgoula. I’ve tried her cooking, and I believe she fits your standards, my lord.”

Ryoma nodded. The paper he held contained a record of Kikuna Samejima’s history, or her resume, so to speak.

No picture, though... 

But it did contain all the information Ryoma needed.

Age: 28 years old. Single. Height: 155 centimeters. Weight: 48 kilograms. Damn, they even have her three measurements.

Her age aside, the information on her body was edging toward sexual harassment. That concept didn’t really exist in this world, but Ryoma was still disgusted to see such information written on a resume.

He flipped the document and read the other side, which was a record of her employment history.

So she was employed for five years at a company in Dreisen. And before that, she traveled the continent, polishing her cooking skills. She doesn’t specialize in any particular kind of cooking, but she does prepare dishes from the central and southern continents in a western-continent style.

Nothing about her resume particularly stood out. Regardless of how Kikuna Samejima found her way here from Ryoma’s Earth, her cooking skills probably began with preparing dishes from their home world. Even if she wasn’t trying to hide it, she passed it off by saying they were dishes from the other continents.

Traveling the continent makes it easy for others to acknowledge the novelty and originality of her dishes...

Given her name, Ryoma had no doubt she came from his Earth. She could be of Japanese descent rather than being from Japan, but she certainly wasn’t originally from this world.

Was it a coincidence that someone from my world was picked to serve under me, or was it someone’s will at play?

To that end, Ryoma had to ask Simone, who’d actually met this woman, what her impression of Kikuka Samejima was. Simone, who was sly and experienced in negotiating, had a very observant eye. Her impression would be valuable.

“Hm, I see. This information looks to be about right. So what was your take on her?”

“I have no proof,” Simone answered, “but it’s probably as you’ve assumed, my lord.” During their conversation, Kikuna Samejima hadn’t done anything incriminating, yet Simone was convinced she was suspicious.

“So I was right.” Ryoma folded his hands, looking up.

“What shall we do, then?” Simone asked. In her opinion, hiring a suspicious figure—even a chef she’d gone to great lengths to find—was a liability.

That would be the obvious decision, Ryoma thought.

Ryoma could see the concern in Simone’s expression. Letting a suspicious person cook one’s food would be terribly dangerous. Even Ryoma would be defeated if his food was poisoned or laced with narcotics, and that would ruin all his plans. Of course, there was no proof that Kikuna Samejima was an enemy of theirs, but the suspicion alone was a problem.

But the plan will fall apart if we don’t use her.

Very few people could fulfill the demands Ryoma set in his job offer—no chef born in this world, at least.

And I don’t have any proof the Organization is against me either...

Ryoma went to the guild to find a chef for two reasons. The first was that he needed their mediation services, but the other was that he suspected that the mysterious organization operating in the shadows of the continent was the guild itself.

His suspicion, as it turned out, was right on the mark.

Well, at this point, it’s hard to tell if the guild is the Organization, or if the Organization’s just leeching off a part of the guild, but...

Ryoma wasn’t even sure if the Organization was his enemy.

Based on what King Julianus said, they’re definitely warmongers.

If the Organization really did view Ryoma as an enemy, they would’ve had several chances to strike at him by now. The group spanned the continent, meaning they had the resources to eliminate Ryoma if they were so inclined. However, Ryoma was still alive and well, which implied the Organization didn’t regard him as an enemy—at least not yet. Ryoma could only hypothesize, though; he lacked proof as to their presence and intentions.

This leaves just one conclusion...but that’s fine. We need to focus on getting through the evening party first, anyway.

“Are you sure we’re holding the evening party, my lord?” Simone questioned, sensing how Ryoma was feeling. He’d already explained their future plans to her, so she shouldn’t have needed confirmation, but she felt she had to ask.

“Are you anxious about it?” Ryoma inquired.

Simone hesitantly nodded. “I understand why we’re having the party, but with the House of Lords’ interrogation upon us, I’m not sure how many nobles would even attend.”

“You can’t make a prediction?”

“No...ashamed though I am to admit it.”

Simone was a skilled merchant with a keen eye for business, and she understood that sometimes one had to risk danger to claim the fruit of profit. But that didn’t mean she liked gambling. Simone knew that Ryoma had made all sorts of preparations for the evening party, but it was hard to tell just how useful his preparations would be. There was no telling how things would turn out until the deed was done. Unfortunately, losing this gamble would put the Mikoshiba barony in a precarious position. Plus, Kikuna Samejima was added to the equation as an unknown variable. Simone’s anxiety was understandable.

Ryoma, on the other hand, was the picture of composure.

“You’re absolutely right, Simone. This is a gamble. Still, we have a chance of winning, and I’ve been doing everything I can to ensure we do. And if we need to take care of Samejima, we have the cooking utensils we asked Nelcius for, right?”

Hiring Samejima was another gamble. They didn’t know her intentions, and they had no idea what the Organization was trying to achieve by sending her. Nonetheless, Ryoma could ask Laura and Sara to watch over her, and should Samejima poison the food, the utensils Dilphina was delivering would solve that issue. Ryoma had them made especially for situations like this.

The only other unknown was whether people would attend the evening party, and Ryoma had measures in place to ensure even that.

“Of course, even with everything I’ve done, there’s a chance people won’t act the way I need them to,” he said. “But anyone who’s not smart enough to pick up on what this party is for isn’t worth siding with anyway. In other words, if they can’t discern that much, they won’t be a threat even if they turn against us.”

He sounded convinced, and since he was her lord, Simone had no choice but to prepare herself for what was to come. She did, after all, decide to be his retainer.

I can understand what he’s trying to do. Besides, now’s definitely the time to act.

It was clear to all that Rhoadseria had no future. It might have been possible to prolong its life by another decade or so, but it was already terminal and lying on its deathbed. All that was left was to either while away the time until its demise or have someone put it out of its misery. Either way, the Kingdom of Rhoadseria would fall to ruin. The question was what were the people to do next. They could follow the country to its doom, or they could carve out a new way for themselves.

Sensing Simone’s resolve, Ryoma smiled. He then rose from his sofa, walked to his desk by the window, opened a drawer, and took out an envelope.

“You don’t need to worry about it so much. I’ve got a few cards up my sleeve.”

Ryoma handed the envelope to Simone. She quickly inspected its wax seal and, after a moment, cocked her head curiously.

Where have I seen this seal before...? She’d seen the design at some point, but she couldn’t remember which house it belonged to. This is likely some noble house, and probably a high-ranking one at that.

As a merchant, Simone had dealt with nobles in the past, so she was familiar with many different emblems. But that wasn’t to say she’d memorized each and every one. There were hundreds of such families just within Rhoadseria, and if the neighboring countries were included, that number jumped into the thousands. No person could accurately memorize every single emblem. The fact that Simone couldn’t attach a name to the design just meant that the Christof Company didn’t deal with that house directly.

But it’s definitely familiar.

It had to belong to a major noble or an influential trade firm.

After staring at the emblem for a few seconds, trying to remember, Simone concluded that she couldn’t recollect the name. Giving up, she turned to Ryoma.

“What is this?”

Ryoma gave her a teasing smile, looking like a boy satisfied with his successful prank.

“Open it and read what’s inside,” he told her.

Simone did as he said. She took out the letter and swiftly read its contents. Once she finished, she realized why her lord was so composed.

“So that’s why... I see,” Simone whispered as she once again confirmed the name of the letter’s sender. No matter how many times she checked, the name remained the same.

I didn’t think he would turn to the lord’s side.

The name was truly unexpected, but that was precisely why Ryoma was so confident.

“Not just Helena, but even those two have accepted what’s to come,” Ryoma explained.

“Meaning?” Simone asked.

“Well, they sent me a letter thanking me for my help with the spy. And they’ll come to visit me in the middle of the night, at that.”

Simone was speechless. She’d already heard of Helena Steiner’s involvement, but this was the first time she was hearing of those two. They promised to pay him a nightly visit because they wanted to avoid detection, which could only mean one thing.

I know the lord’s intentions, but I didn’t think his preparations ran so deep.

Simone was simply baffled. If the contents of this letter were true, this country’s future was all but decided.

“My apologies for being so forward and forgetting my place. Please forgive me, my lord,” Simone said as she bowed her head deeply.

♱

That night, when the clock ticked past midnight—a time when everyone else would be fast asleep—Ryoma welcomed a guest.

“First, allow me to thank you, Baron Mikoshiba, for saving my brother-in-law’s...for saving Elnan’s life. Normally, he’d be here with me to thank you personally, but he’s busy ensuring matters are moving along.”

Count Bergstone trailed off for a moment and ruminated on his next words. Seeing the conflict on the middle-aged man’s face, Ryoma had a faint idea of what he was about to say, but he waited for the count to speak. They both gazed into each other’s eyes. After several seconds of silence, Count Bergstone finally made up his mind and continued.

“I hope you forgive him this time. My brother-in-law will arrive in the coming days to give his regards as well, my lord.”

Count Bergstone rose from the sofa and bowed deeply. It was a significant gesture; a count was bowing his head to a baron even though he ranked higher than the baron in the noble hierarchy.

The fact was that Ryoma’s men had saved Count Zeleph from assassination. From Ryoma’s perspective as a Japanese person, showing the utmost respect to the savior of one’s life was to be expected, but this world functioned within a strict class system. Had Count Bergstone bowed to Ryoma in the middle of the Rhoadserian court, it would have caused quite the riot. And to top it all off, Count Bergstone had called Ryoma his lord, making it clear he was acting as a vassal. He did all of these things in secret because he knew how the world would react.

Ryoma was surprised by Count Bergstone’s actions, but he soon smiled. “I appreciate the gesture, but we’re comrades striving for a common goal. You don’t have to stand on ceremony like that.”

To Ryoma, the two counts weren’t much more than useful pawns. If Count Zeleph proved himself to be incompetent, Ryoma wouldn’t care one bit for his life. Saying it to their faces, though, would be the height of folly. And since Count Bergstone chose to treat him with modesty, he thought it best to meet the gesture magnanimously.

Ryoma’s complacency came from a position of power. After all, House Bergstone did declare its fealty to him, even if unofficially, and that would radically change the cooperative relationship they’d built so far.

I figured he’d grumble more, given his personality. I didn’t think he’d make up his mind this quickly.

The intention behind Count Bergstone’s visit was evident, but seeing him approach so humbly was a pleasant surprise. They were about to challenge the entire Kingdom of Rhoadseria to war, as it were, and holding negotiations when one side was emotionally cornered wasn’t a good idea. Ryoma wanted to ask Count Bergstone for his loyalty and was planning to explain his future plans to some extent, but the count ended up saving him the trouble of doing that.

Well, I guess he feels backed against a wall already.

Anyone with even a rudimentary sense for politics would see just how fatal Rhoadseria’s current position was. Nevertheless, understanding that situation and being able to resolve it were two different things. It was all the worse for Count Bergstone, who had no final say in the management of this country. Still, he was a skilled politician, and he wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing as things went downhill. He’d tried to advise Queen Lupis, who did have the final say in the country’s management.

Not that much came of it, from the looks of things.

That was why Count Bergstone came to Ryoma’s doorstep that night.

Unfortunately, Queen Lupis wasn’t fit to be queen. She was a merciful woman, giving one the initial impression that she might be a fine ruler, and her close aides, Meltina Lecter and Mikhail Vanash, were entirely devoted to her because they believed in her as a sovereign. Ryoma had no qualms with her merciful nature, but it was a different story when it came to her capacity as a ruler. Mercy was only one virtue of a fine king, and if his flaws were enough to cancel out that virtue, then it was meaningless. Simply put, Queen Lupis lacked a certain quality, a natural disposition. She was too indecisive to make her own decisions and move things along.

It’s sad, really.

Ryoma knew no one was perfect—he himself was as flawed as she was—and normally, Lupis’s shortcomings wouldn’t have been so critically fatal. Indecisiveness was hardly a rare trait. But only the mundane and insignificant could waver in the face of important choices.

Sadly, Queen Lupis isn’t mundane or insignificant. It’s very unfortunate...for the people of this kingdom, that is.

How many times had that thought crossed Ryoma’s mind? That was honestly and truly how he felt. He was still angry with her for effectively exiling him to the Wortenia Peninsula, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny feeling some pity for her current state.

A sovereign’s role was to make decisions, but Queen Lupis wasn’t a decisive person. The outcome of that went without saying, and her merciful nature just became quicksand.

It was worse when more than one person offered her their opinion. Being compassionate meant being emotional, tenderhearted even. So what happened when an indecisive ruler became sentimental? In most cases, they would prioritize the person who offered the option over the option’s validity. Indeed, Queen Lupis had a proclivity for getting carried away by emotion and therefore couldn’t make decisions that would hurt her or those close to her.

Mikhail Vanash’s fate was a prime example of that. Mikhail was a close aide to Queen Lupis, as trusted as Meltina, but even though he was a loyal vassal who served her for many years, he still acted on his own accord during the last civil war and got himself captured by Duke Gelhart. To save Mikhail after making such a shameful blunder, Queen Lupis spared the leader of the opposing faction, accepting his offer of allegiance.

Being merciful isn’t a flaw in and of itself, but everything has its limits.

A country run by an overemotional ruler was bound to fly into chaos, and Queen Lupis’s mercy had only poisoned Mikhail in a sense. It was difficult to criticize a king for acting too much in their own self-interest, but no one would hesitate with those favored by the sovereign. Mikhail’s life had been spared, but not only was his honor as a knight tarnished, he was also ordered to remain under house arrest. The people around Mikhail all mocked and insulted him. Things had died down somewhat by now, but when the matter was still fresh in the nobles’ memories, public criticism of Mikhail ran rampant across the court.

And all of that came about by Lupis’s indecisiveness.

Had Queen Lupis accepted that she was nothing but a figurehead, Rhoadseria might’ve grasped a different future for itself. Ryoma could have shown her the path to that future too. But reality was unforgiving; Ryoma’s kind intentions were utterly betrayed, and that possibility fizzled out of existence.

Many of the nobles doubted Lupis’s abilities as a ruler and were beginning to once again gather under Viscount Gelhart, who sponsored Radine Rhoadserians, her paternal half sister. The country was in a volatile state of unrest and political instability. Fearing that, each noble hurried to strengthen their domain’s military and ordered excessive taxation on their subjects.

Among the ruling class, that was a typical response to anxiety, but none of that mattered to the people being extorted. The common man sought only one thing: a stable livelihood. So long as they had that, they cared very little about who ruled over them. However, now that their stability was fading, the commoners were clashing with their governors. Just the other day, the monarch’s guard dispatched a battalion of knights to suppress a rebellion in the country’s south, where a group of villages had risen up in revolt. Things were still peaceful around the capital itself, thankfully, but even that would crumble given time.

The capital’s streets were much emptier than they were when I visited last year.

With internal affairs destabilizing, economic activity had been declining too. The country was effectively dying.

I’m the one who drove it to that state, though.

More accurately, someone was trying to throw Rhoadseria into a state of chaos, and Ryoma played along with their machinations. Ryoma wasn’t the principal offender in this case, but he was certainly an accomplice. Still, there was no communication between the offender and the accomplice, to say nothing of cooperation.

Right about now, the offender probably saw that the situation had progressed faster than expected and suspected someone was involved. If Ryoma was right in his assumption of who was behind this, then they’d already figured out Ryoma was their unseen collaborator.

Either way, the trial in the House of Lords is going to be the key to everything.

Excitement ran through Ryoma like a jolt of electricity.

Count Bergstone must have noticed, because he said, “First, we must deal with the upcoming evening party. Ever since I heard of the event, I’ve kept my eyes peeled on them.” He didn’t need to elaborate on who he was referring to.

“Good work. I wouldn’t have expected any less from you,” Ryoma replied, looking at the count. “You could see what I was planning without me needing to explain anything.”

“I could only guess at your intentions, my lord,” Count Bergstone said vaguely.

“So, what’s your take on what they’re doing?”

“I believe they’re going to try to crush your dignity, my lord.”

Ryoma’s lips spread into a thin smile. “Just like they did way back with Count Salzberg...right?”

Ryoma referred to the callous trap that had turned a once noble hero into a bitter, terrible tyrant.

“Yes, that is the most likely possibility. I believe they will attempt it during the ball to be held following the evening party.”

“I see... So you think so too.”

Ryoma nodded. Count Bergstone’s prediction matched Laura’s misgivings.

I was right to have them give me lessons.

Ryoma hadn’t actually wanted to take those lessons. He realized that they imparted necessary skills for a noble, but at the same time, he felt like it wasn’t necessary to study that right now. Nevertheless, Laura and Sara had insisted on it, saying it could end up being essential, and Ryoma had reluctantly gone along with their idea. In truth, he’d felt like the twins might be worrying too much, but it seemed their misgivings were justified.

Things are flowing my way.

It felt like a revelation. A shock ran down Ryoma’s spine, like the tingling of electricity. He’d never gotten to experience this kind of pleasant excitement in modern Japan.

I guess, in some ways, being called to this world wasn’t all bad.

Ryoma poured wine into the glass he set for Count Bergstone and celebrated a new, skilled vassal’s oath of fealty.

♱

After concluding his secret meeting with Ryoma Mikoshiba that night, Count Bergstone sneaked through the streets of Pireas, evading any prying eyes, and entered his estate in the noble sector through the back gate.

It was already past four in the morning. In another hour, the eastern sky would begin to brighten. The capital’s gates were closed until dawn, but that was something money and authority could overcome.

However, for Count Bergstone, who was among Rhoadseria’s more reasonable nobles, this feat struck him as very inappropriate. Normally, he would wait outside the gates until dawn or ask to spend the night at Count Zeleph’s estate, but tonight he needed to return to his mansion as quickly as possible.

“Thank you for your service,” Count Bergstone told the coachman who’d served him for many years, depositing a small leather purse full of hush money in his hands. “Needless to say, tell no one what I did tonight.”

Of the several coachmen working under Count Bergstone’s employ, this particular one was from a family of vassals who’d served House Bergstone since his grandfather’s generation. He wasn’t a knight, but he was highly skilled and could use martial thaumaturgy, making him both a coachman and a bodyguard. He was the perfect person for secret missions like this one.

The coachman’s family house was adjacent to the mansion’s stable. As long as he didn’t make any major blunders, in just a few years, his child would enter House Bergstone’s service as an apprentice. In that regard, he was more reliable than a coachman for hire. After all, his family was basically being held hostage, as awful as that sounded. But Count Bergstone wouldn’t treat a long-standing retainer like him poorly. A noble valued nothing more than reliable retainers.

Nobles were certainly haughty, cruel, and coldhearted, but that was just one side of how they acted. They weren’t foolish enough to believe that they could maintain all the power they gained entirely on their own. Anyone who thought that they didn’t need others’ help wouldn’t be able to keep their house alive. Illness or accident was bound to come sooner or later, and then they would pay the price for their foolishness. Just like a debt, the time to pay would eventually come, be it to the nobles themselves, or their families...

“Now return home and rest well. Use that money to buy something nice for your children.”

“I’m in your debt, my lord.” The coachman weighed the sack in his hands before bowing his head. “I’ll be off then.” Without another word, he returned to the driver’s seat and silently spurred the horse along.

Night’s curtain still hung in the sky, but what was known as the dead of night—the time between two and half past two—was over an hour ago. It wasn’t late night, but it wasn’t quite morning yet either. Perhaps in modern Japan, red-light districts would still operate in these late hours, but most people would be drifting in their dreams. That applied to Count Bergstone’s family, as well.

The mansion was dark, not a candle left burning. The servants didn’t imagine their master would return at an hour like this, so no one was there to greet him. The sole exceptions were the guard who opened the back gate and the guards patrolling his garden.

Count Bergstone walked through the dark estate, holding up a lantern with his right hand. He knew his way through his own house well enough. He entered the building through the kitchen’s back door, then walked to the entrance hall and up the stairs to the second floor.

Even with the faint light of the lantern to illuminate the dim mansion, his steps were quick. But as he reached for his office’s doorknob, he paused, sensing someone’s presence inside.

Is someone there?

He listened carefully. Hearing the sound of paper rustling, he reached for the sword at his waist and quickly analyzed the situation.

An assassin? No, an assassin wouldn’t be this careless.

Swordsmanship was an aristocratic pursuit, so nobles practiced it to some extent. Count Bergstone was by no means a warrior, and even he could feel the presence in his room through the door. If the person inside was an assassin, they were a second- if not third-rate one.

Furthermore, this was Count Bergstone’s capital estate, and even compared to the mansion in his home domain, it was guarded quite well. There were dozens of guards patrolling the premises. Count Bergstone had passed without issue since he was the master of the household, but any intruder would have been expelled.

To top it off, there had been too many suspicious incidents as of late, such as the assassination attempt on his brother-in-law Count Elnan Zeleph’s life, as well as the revelation that the secret messenger Count Bergstone sent to Ryoma had been some sort of spy. With so many incidents happening recently, the guards were all the more vigilant and alert, so the possibility of this being an assassin was close to nil.

Then who is it?

Since Count Bergstone handled confidential information, very few people could enter his office. His wife and the maids charged with the mansion’s upkeep could enter, but they typically didn’t. Plus, there was no reason for them to visit Count Bergstone in his office at this late hour.

Which means...

Having come to a conclusion, Count Bergstone turned the doorknob and quickly looked around the room.

“Elnan... It’s you.”

Count Bergstone sighed in relief, glad to see a markedly different scene from what he’d been fearing. Nonetheless, while he trusted his brother-in-law, Count Bergstone couldn’t condone Count Zeleph’s sniffing around in his office in the dead of night. The fact that Count Bergstone didn’t immediately fly into a rage over this violation of privacy was proof he was still being rational.

Count Zeleph, on the other hand, acted like there wasn’t anything suspicious at all about what he was doing. He even greeted Count Bergstone with a smile.

“Working so late at night? Impressive, brother-in-law. Was it cold out?” Count Zeleph remarked. He walked over to a shelf like he owned the place and took out a bottle of brandy, holding it up for Count Bergstone to see.

Given that Count Zeleph always seemed like Count Bergstone’s silent and introverted follower, this show of assertiveness was quite a shift in attitude. Count Bergstone wasn’t angry with him, though. He took off his cape, placed it on a hanger on the wall, and sank into the sofa in the corner of his office. He’d known his brother-in-law for many years, so what was the point of being pretentious around him now? There was no need to greet him formally anymore.

“Here you are, dear brother-in-law,” Count Zeleph said, holding out a glass full of amber-colored alcohol.

Count Bergstone took the glass and downed it in one go. It was a strong drink, distilled several times over. He felt the alcohol burn in his intestines, but after the work he’d done that night, it was a satisfying feeling.

“‘Here you are,’ you say. This is my alcohol, Elnan,” Count Bergstone grumbled.

Count Zeleph nodded with a grin. “I see your meeting went well,” he said. “Congratulations are in order.” He was able to surmise the meeting’s outcome through his brother-in-law’s expression and attitude.

“As astute as ever, Elnan,” Count Bergstone said, giving him a tired smile. “Your observational skills always leave me impressed.”

“Oh, not at all. I’ve simply known you for far too long.” Count Zeleph tipped the bottle to Count Bergstone’s now-empty glass and, in his usual joking tone, added, “Not as long as your lovely wife, of course.”

Count Bergstone shrugged at his brother-in-law. “I see. Well, since you can read my heart so well, I’d do well not to make enemies out of the two of you. It’s clear you’ll beat me before the battle even starts.”

As a politician, Count Bergstone had survived many a political struggle, and he rarely let his true intentions show in his gestures and expressions. He knew to smile during hardship and weep when he was truly rejoicing. His performance even put some professional actors to shame.

Only two people could see through Count Bergstone’s act. One of them was his beloved wife, who’d been his partner for many years. She would never miss even the slightest change in his behavior. They interacted every day, after all.

That wasn’t to say that living together meant a couple would understand each other perfectly. If they did, divorce rates wouldn’t be rising in modern times. But spending time together certainly helped one know their partner. If nothing else, his wife knew him much better than a stranger who had only spoken with him for a few minutes.

This made Count Zeleph’s deep understanding of Count Bergstone all the stranger. They were trusted relatives, yes, but they governed different territories and lived apart from each other. Even if their fiefdoms were adjacent, they were still two independent nobles, so the time they spent together was limited.

They only met during scheduled dinner parties or public events like balls, meaning they didn’t have much time to foster their friendship. They could exchange letters, but written correspondence had its limits. Despite that, Count Zeleph knew Count Bergstone very well. In a sense, he knew Bergstone even better than Bergstone’s wife did.

The reason was Count Zeleph’s discerning eye, which allowed him to see into people’s hearts. Its accuracy and sharpness were almost supernatural. However, those around him would see such a talent as dangerous.

That’s why he doesn’t take the front stage when it comes to politics, Count Bergstone thought.

He looked at Count Zeleph, who was still wearing his usual smile. His pudgy physique and amicable features didn’t make him look silly, per se, but he didn’t look particularly bright either. Not even Count Bergstone could claim otherwise.

But Elnan’s real worth isn’t in his looks.

The faces of two men surfaced in Count Bergstone’s mind. One was their beloved, deceased father-in-law Marquis Ernest. He’d lost a political struggle with Duke Gelhart, leader of the nobles’ faction, but before that, he’d served as Rhoadseria’s prime minister and held considerable power and authority. His political prowess and his understanding of people were undeniable.

The men Marquis Ernest chose to be his beloved daughters’ grooms were the Counts Bergstone and Zeleph. At the time, the gossipers in the royal court were unsure as to why he’d chosen Count Zeleph. All kinds of slanderous rumors had circulated, from stories of a hearty bribe to speculation of an unexpected pregnancy forcing the marquis to legitimize the marriage.

Normally, no noble would stand for such obscene, slanderous rumors. That someone would even start such rumors was a major issue in and of itself. Nevertheless, Marquis Ernest hadn’t let the words of others sway him. He’d refused to annul his daughter’s betrothal to Elnan Zeleph, proof that the marquis had seen Count Zeleph’s value.

One other man sees Elnan’s true value.

Count Bergstone was thinking of the young conqueror he’d sworn his service to just earlier tonight.

He probably thinks Elnan is more useful than me... A hint of envy pricked at Count Bergstone’s heart, but it was only momentary. This is absurd. What am I, a child?

Count Bergstone’s talents lay elsewhere. He was skilled at politics and intrigue. He was acting like a fish envying a bird for its wings, or a bird envying a fish for its ability to swim. Wanting to have a perfect talent was natural—such emotions encouraged people to propel themselves to greater heights—but one couldn’t let envy blind them and cloud their judgment. After all, the two counts each had an important role to play.

“Now, let’s hear it. What are our lord’s orders?” Count Zeleph asked, placing the bottle on the table. There wasn’t so much as a hint of kindness in his eyes now. His gaze glinted like a blade.

“Yes, well... The lord asked me to tell you a number of things,” Count Bergstone began.

He relayed what their new master had said to his brother-in-law. The explanation took a while—roughly thirty minutes or so. Count Bergstone talked on, while Count Zeleph listened and remained silent.

“That’s all for the time being. Is there anything you’re unclear on?” Count Bergstone asked, concluding his briefing and refilling his empty glass.

Count Zeleph slowly shook his head. “No... It’s just that, while I made the choice knowingly, I did feel some guilt. But given what you said, I was thinking that we were right to turn to his side. That’s all. I think the evening party will go as our lord plans.”

These were Count Zeleph’s true feelings. His and his brother-in-law’s noble houses were respectable families who’d been in power since the dawn of the kingdom. Only the head of a house could truly appreciate the weight and meaning of that history. No matter how foolish their sovereign might be, becoming traitors required a great deal of courage.

Even after they’d made the choice to betray their queen, their hearts still wavered. Not even Count Zeleph was immune to that kind of fear. Every day, he would feel conflicted about his choice. Was Ryoma Mikoshiba really a ruler worth serving...?

I don’t have any doubts anymore, Count Zeleph thought, but...

After listening to Count Bergstone’s explanation, Count Zeleph understood what Ryoma’s real aim was. His plan was terrifying. However, no plan, no matter how masterfully crafted, was perfect.

“Dear brother-in-law...” Count Zeleph murmured.

“What is it, Elnan?” Count Bergstone asked, a bit puzzled by his hesitance.

Even from Count Zeleph’s point of view, their new lord’s abilities were beyond satisfactory. But while the lord’s plans were justified, they weren’t perfect.

Though, considering his origins, this might be good enough.

Ryoma was originally a wandering adventurer and nothing more before he rose to nobility. He wasn’t a born noble of Rhoadseria, so he didn’t fully understand the bonds between different Rhoadserian noble families. Count Zeleph normally wouldn’t even bring this up. It was clear Ryoma’s plans were effective enough as they were.

But it does feel like we could take this one step further.

The problem was Count Zeleph’s position.

Yes, that man... Gennou Igasaki, was it? He’s quite skilled, but he hasn’t established himself within the country enough yet.

Count Zeleph had only exchanged a few words with Gennou, so he knew only the man’s name and face. Zeleph knew to pay attention to him, though, since he was in Ryoma Mikoshiba’s inner circle.

But the question is, do I tell the lord about this or not...?

The correct answer would be to tell him. Since he acknowledged Ryoma as his new master, it was his duty to do so. All the same, capable people could be overconfident about their abilities and refuse to accept other people’s opinions, and while Count Zeleph trusted Ryoma’s character and prowess, that didn’t necessarily extend to the people working under him. Besides, the two counts were new retainers who’d only recently sworn loyalty to the Mikoshiba barony. Newcomers were always treated harshly, no matter where one went, and causing needless friction between them and the Mikoshiba barony’s existing retainers would be unwise.

This might be a bad play.

If the Mikoshiba barony’s entire policy was wrong, Count Zeleph wouldn’t hesitate to advise them to act otherwise, but their plan was still a good one, and not at all mistaken. It simply wasn’t quite ideal. Even if Count Zeleph were to offer his advice to improve things, it would only increase their chances from ninety percent to one hundred percent. Such a small improvement made Count Zeleph waver.

It seemed Count Bergstone could sense his brother-in-law’s indecisiveness, because he said, “Don’t hesitate. We chose to serve him, so you must do your duty as his vassal.”

Count Bergstone’s words were firm and unyielding, and they convinced Count Zeleph to steel his resolve. His talents lay in strategy, and he knew it. For him to do his duty properly, though, he needed a ruler who would believe in him. Without such a lord to serve, nothing would change. He would lurk in his brother-in-law’s shadow, hiding his talents.

“Very well, brother-in-law,” Count Zeleph replied. “I will speak to him posthaste. And after that, we will visit Viscount Orglen.”

Count Zeleph reached for the bottle on the table and brought it to his lips, gulping down its amber-colored contents like he was resolving to set out to the battlefield.