Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 17 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Verbal Dogfight

“Before we begin the hearing, I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize for the unfortunate misunderstanding that took place between my fiefdom and the Salzberg county, as well as for any trouble it might have caused you. I cannot begin to express the deep shame and regret I feel over this affair.”

Ryoma spoke with an austere tone. He placed his left hand over his navel and his right behind his waist and bent forward. This was the style of bowing customary among Rhoadseria’s court. He performed the gesture perfectly, and coupled with his dignified air unique to warriors, it made for one striking show.

It was an admirable display, to be sure, but it didn’t change how the nobles felt about Ryoma. Or rather, it did, but for the worse. Their glares, which were dripping with enmity, made way for expressions of scorn and glee. To them, it must have looked like the pretentious upstart was startled by being summoned to the House of Lords and was groveling before them. Yet rather than praise him for approaching this so admirably, they criticized him for taking too long to act repentant.

Of course, Ryoma wasn’t groveling before the nobles. He straightened his back and turned to look at Count Eisenbach, who sat at Marquis Halcyon’s side.

“I would also like to apologize to Count Eisenbach specifically,” Ryoma added. “You are vice director of the House of Lords, the body that stands as the authority of our kingdom, yet I am encroaching on your precious time.”

The instant Ryoma said this, the air in the courtroom suddenly became tense. Ryoma’s response wasn’t discourteous or impolite, and as the one undergoing this hearing, his behavior was perfectly acceptable. The problem, however, wasn’t what Ryoma said, but who he’d directed his apology toward.

What did he say?

Is he mad?

The stares directed at Ryoma were full of bewilderment and fear. They were facing something utterly inexplicable. After all, Ryoma had just openly ignored Marquis Halcyon, the director of the House of Lords, and instead apologized to Count Eisenbach, the second-in-command. This was tantamount to ignoring the president and instead bowing to the vice president.

It was actually possible that one might mistake Count Eisenbach for Marquis Halcyon. This world didn’t have photographs, so it was rare to know what someone looked like without meeting them in the flesh. The only real way to do so was by studying portraits drawn by an artist, but no matter how good a painting might be, it wasn’t a photograph. The artist could have ended up changing details. Therefore, someone could mistake one man they never met for another, no matter how cautious they were.

Ryoma, on the other hand, had mentioned Count Eisenbach’s name and his role as vice director, which meant he wasn’t making a mistake out of ignorance. That made a world of difference.

By bowing his head to me, he makes it obvious that he ignored the marquis, thought Count Eisenbach. He just made an open declaration to one of Rhoadseria’s most influential nobles and the director of the House of Lords. He just told Marquis Halcyon that he has no interest and sees no value in him.

Seeing Ryoma bow his head to him, Count Eisenbach instantly guessed Ryoma’s intentions. This was the greatest insult and provocation he could have possibly made toward Marquis Halcyon, who boasted authority and influence. No, it was more than just a provocation; it was a declaration of war. No noble would mistake Ryoma’s intention.

Count Eisenbach glanced at Marquis Halcyon, who sat at his right. He could see the count’s face turn red with humiliation and rage. A vein popped out on his temple, and his clenched fists were visibly shaking.

It makes sense he’d react this way. He was just openly insulted by a lowborn upstart he’d mocked before.

Nothing angered nobles more than suffering an indignity and seeing their family name tarnished. Just a noble greeting his peers in the wrong order would result in outrage and sometimes a duel. It could even lead to nobles fracturing off into cliques and factions, a possibility demonstrated by the fact that half the cases the House of Lords dealt with began like that.

For a noble, their honor meant more than their life, and Marquis Halcyon was especially preoccupied with his family’s name and status. His fiefdom wasn’t very large, so he didn’t have much economic or military strength. There were several nobles within the nobles’ faction with larger domains, yet House Halcyon had been given the position of director of the House of Lords for many generations, granting them vast influence over the palace. Not even the monarch of the kingdom, with their absolute authority, could disregard the authority they held.

Everyone respected Marquis Halcyon. They knew to bow their heads to him, and this was something that the marquis himself took for granted. At least, he did until Ryoma Mikoshiba spoke a moment ago.

Just what raged on in Marquis Halcyon’s heart? He was never a patient or a tolerant man. His performance as director of the House of Lords aside, his personality was absolutely average. He wasn’t the kind of man who could shrug off a whelp insulting him like this either. Normally, he would have kicked his chair away and started shouting, yet Marquis Halcyon was able to maintain enough composure to keep his anger in check.

I’m sure he’s seething on the inside, though.

Ryoma’s behavior was extremely provocative, but it wouldn’t benefit Marquis Halcyon to raise his voice in the middle of a hearing. While Ryoma’s intent was clear, the House of Lords still had to stand on ceremony here.

It was true that Ryoma had ignored Marquis Halcyon, but he could very well claim that he didn’t know the marquis was there. The marquis never introduced himself, so it would be difficult to pursue the matter any further. Marquis Halcyon couldn’t blame Ryoma for this insult unless he could prove that Ryoma knew he was present beforehand.

We could fault him for not knowing such an influential noble’s face, but...

Count Eisenbach glared at the man standing before them, but his smile was soft. Rhoadseria had nearly one thousand nobles of differing ranks and positions, and that number was even larger if knights were included as well. Honestly speaking, knowing every single noble by face was impossible, and they couldn’t expect Ryoma to do something they couldn’t do themselves. If they tried, Ryoma could claim that Marquis Halcyon was trying to trick him. Marquis Halcyon knew this too, so he begrudgingly held his tongue.

An effective idea indeed, but no ordinary noble would ever try this. He can only do this because he’s an upstart and not connected to noble society. Be that as it may, we’re talking about Ryoma Mikoshiba. Surely he’d fault us if we blame him for this.

If Ryoma were to make such an accusation, it would surely impact the House of Lords’ authority. And what would happen if word of this leaked to the public? Ryoma Mikoshiba was a pariah in noble society—at least, none of the nobles in this room viewed him favorably—but to the public, he was a national hero, and there was no denying his fame. Even his infamous title, the Devil of Heraklion, had by now become more awe-inspiring than terrifying. They couldn’t risk the public finding out that they’d tried to cheat a hero like him.

Nothing that goes on here should ever leak to the public, but...

The only people present were the nobles affiliated with the House of Lords and the knights serving under them, so it wasn’t a concern that anything would leak to the public. Still, the more one tried to cover something up, the more likely it was to leak, so they couldn’t risk falling for Ryoma’s taunt.

But at this rate, the marquis won’t stand for this. In which case...

Marquis Halcyon himself declaring his presence in this assembly would be a bad idea. It would give the impression that, for as influential as he might be, he was a buffoon whose name was not worth remembering—a trifling man easily forgotten by others. It would be a terrible blow to his dignity.

That left only one option. Count Eisenbach’s expression clouded with confusion and resignation. He’d pulled the short straw, and since Ryoma had spoken to him specifically, he was the only one who could resolve this situation. Readying himself, Count Eisenbach slowly rose from his chair.

“Your earnest apology is touching,” he said. “However, it seems you’re operating under a misunderstanding, Baron Mikoshiba.”

Ryoma cocked his head. “Oh. How so?”

On the surface, Ryoma was smiling pleasantly, but Count Eisenbach caught a glimpse of the emotion hiding behind his friendly expression.

Nonetheless, whatever he’s plotting, I can only do what I must.

It might not have been the ideal solution, but stating the facts would be much better than keeping quiet.

“I am merely an assistant here. This hearing is managed entirely by the current director of the House of Lords, Marquis Halcyon.”

Marquis Halcyon, who’d remained silent in his seat, nodded gravely and relaxed his clenched fists. Count Eisenbach’s words seem to have helped him regain his composure.

Confirming this with a glance, Count Eisenbach went on the offensive. “In fact, I wonder why you were under the impression that Marquis Halcyon, the director of the House of Lords, would not be attending this hearing, Baron Mikoshiba.”

The other members of the House of Lords all murmured in agreement.

“The purpose of this hearing is to offer you a chance to explain the reasons behind your recent war, which has disturbed the peace and order of the kingdom. This matter is a priority for the House of Lords, as your actions are in opposition to national law, which forbids private wars between nobles. What’s more, your war cost the lives of many, including Count Salzberg and the heads and relatives of the ten houses of the north, who were charged with the defense of the northern border. Your actions will have lasting repercussions for Rhoadseria’s national defense. Given the gravity of your transgressions, it is entirely possible that we may elect to strip you of your title and wipe out your house. So, considering the importance of this hearing, why would you assume that the director of the House of Lords would not be handling this matter? Surely you won’t say you didn’t know the importance of this occasion.”

This was a vicious counterattack. There was truth to Count Eisenbach’s words, but Ryoma’s attitude didn’t change in the slightest; he had been waiting for those very words.

“I see. So Marquis Halcyon is the one directing this hearing. And it was by his will that I was separated from my escorts and forced to spend a full day and night in a room without windows. That’s what you’re saying, yes? Because, unless my memory fails me, Rhoadserian law defines a hearing as a procedure where witnesses are merely questioned in order to decide if there’s need for a trial. Which means that, as a noble with a title, I ought to have been entitled to all my rights.”

Ryoma hung his head morosely. He wasn’t actually bemoaning what happened, but the gesture was enough to make it clear what he was getting at.

This bastard. He’s trying to criticize us for treating him unfairly and throw the House of Lords’ impartial neutrality into question. He’s trying to say this entire hearing is a ploy to set him up.

True, Ryoma’s confinement in a room no different than a cell was the handiwork of Count Eisenbach and the other nobles in attendance. They all knew it. If asked if this was the proper way to treat a noble with a title, the answer would be a resounding “no.” Even if this was a trial and he was judged guilty, as a noble, he was still entitled to certain rights, as long as he wasn’t sentenced to death.

One of those rights was to have his attendants with him. Despite being aware of this, the House of Lords knowingly treated Ryoma improperly. There could only be one explanation as to why they did so: as a show of enmity and antagonism toward Ryoma Mikoshiba.

We let them go ahead with this so as to keep the other nobles’ disgruntlement contained, but I didn’t think he’d turn it against us now.

Count Eisenbach quietly clicked his tongue. Several noble houses had blood ties with the Count Salzberg and the ten houses of the north. Some were just connected by marriages from several generations ago, but given the importance of family connections within the nobility, this was close enough to blood ties. To them, Ryoma wasn’t just a treasonous upstart; he was the killer of their relatives. It would have come as no surprise if their houses had pooled their soldiers together and marched on Ryoma, but doing so would have made the country’s volatile internal affairs even more unstable.

For this reason, Marquis Halcyon and Count Eisenbach had decided to suppress the nobles’ wrath by offering them retribution in the form of an official hearing. This was, after all, the standard procedure for dealing with such matters.

Her Majesty greatly desired this as well, so it was only natural we would go along with her will.

Queen Lupis and the House of Lords never quite saw eye to eye, but when it came to Baron Mikoshiba, their interests were perfectly aligned. In the face of this common enemy, they were able to put aside their existing disagreements and collude together. When it came to the question of how to dispose of him, the queen stressed that they were to follow the proper procedures by the book. Since they were judging a “national hero,” Queen Lupis needed to maintain her dignity in this situation.

The nobles understood this, but the human heart had a way of ignoring reason. One such example was a victim’s desire to punish their assailant in ways that overstepped the boundaries of the law. That was why Count Eisenbach had looked the other way as they confined Ryoma in a filthy room in the House of Lords. He’d assumed that this was so minor an infraction that even if news of it did get out, they could come up with an excuse. Otherwise, the other nobles’ tempers would be too difficult to control.

Count Eisenbach himself hadn’t been inclined to offer Ryoma a comfortable stay either, so he’d just seen it as a convenient development. He certainly hadn’t expected Ryoma to use it against them like this, not right after he’d explained that Marquis Halcyon was the one in charge of this hearing.

This is bad. And him suggesting that Marquis Halcyon was behind it is even worse. This could even reflect poorly on Queen Lupis...

It was evident that the House of Lords’ neutrality and impartiality was an empty slogan, and everyone present knew that, but it was upheld by an unspoken understanding that they must keep up appearances. It only lasted for as long as no one spoke of it, and if anyone were to deny the idea, the thin facade of it all would crumble away.

What do we do? Just keep holding our tongues?

The nobles of the House of Lords and the knights serving them were the only ones here, so they could just ignore Ryoma’s words and carry on with the hearing. The outcome was already decided, after all. But doing so could put Marquis Halcyon and Count Eisenbach at risk later down the line. Malicious rumors could spread that the House of Lords’ director tried to bend the rules to pin a crime on a national hero.

There are many nobles seeking to claim the director’s seat for themselves, like Viscount Therese.

The House of Lords was an influential clique that helped form the nobles’ faction, so the position of director was desirable, and many people actively pursued it. Those nobles were always looking on like vultures, waiting for Marquis Halcyon and his lackeys to make a mistake.

They couldn’t even trust people within the House of Lords, who were supposedly on their side. From where the other nobles stood, Marquis Halcyon and Count Eisenbach were the leaders of the clique. While they were valuable allies, they were also obstacles that stood in the way of their personal advancement. That was even applicable to Count Eisenbach to an extent. He too wished to become the director of the House of Lords.

No, the issue right now is how to get out of this.

Several possible excuses came to mind. Count Eisenbach didn’t believe he could completely talk his way out of Ryoma’s question, so coming up with unpleasant excuses was necessary, yet he couldn’t even manage that. He’d tried to help Marquis Halcyon, but that had only tightened the noose around him instead.

Nevertheless, it seemed the gods hadn’t abandoned Count Eisenbach to his plight. One of the nobles watching on rose from his seat and spoke.

“I’ve heard your accusation,” he said, his austere voice, full of dignity, echoing through the room, “but it strikes me as unjust suspicion on your behalf. Do you have any solid proof of this?”

The voice was brimming with confidence, its tone indicating that the owner saw it as his calling to govern people. At the same time, the voice was wise and cold, with the sharpness of a blade. Any man of average grit would have fallen silent at the sound of it.

This man was pressuring Ryoma into abandoning his argument. It wasn’t a bad play, yet it hinged on Ryoma being a man of average grit.

“And you are?” Ryoma asked, his expression remaining composed as he betrayed the man’s expectations.

“My apologies. I am David Hamilton, head of the Hamilton county. I serve the House of Lords as assistant to Marquis Halcyon, much like Count Eisenbach.”

His tone had made it clear how proud he was of his family name. As he’d spoken, he’d puffed up his chest.

Count Hamilton, eh? Ryoma hung his head, smiling to himself. So the bailiff’s family head just stepped up. I was hoping to turn the conversation over to him, so this is a fortunate development.

“I see. So it’s you,” Ryoma muttered.

“So you’ve heard of me,” Count Hamilton replied.

“Yes. I’ve heard that you’re in charge of managing the bailiffs and court attendants and that you are a leading figure within the House of Lords.”

Count Hamilton must have enjoyed having his ego stroked. He seemed satisfied with Ryoma’s answer and carried on.

“Good, then that makes things quick. I understand there may have been inconveniences in your reception, but I can attest that Marquis Halcyon is, by his very nature, a just and fair man.”

Count Hamilton then waved his hands, as if to say that the matter was over and done. There was no logic or reason to his claim; it was an empty promise, akin to an attorney in a criminal trial promising that his client was innocent without any material evidence. This wasn’t negotiation or persuasion. He’d laughed off Ryoma’s claim and treated it like nonsense. From Count Hamilton’s perspective, as the number three man in the House of Lords, his assertion of Marquis Halcyon’s character was enough to wrap up this entire discussion.

Ryoma was momentarily speechless at Count Hamilton’s attitude. For as calculating and wary as he was, he rarely had this reaction. He’d anticipated Count Hamilton’s attitude, of course, but he’d also assumed that the probability of him acting like this was low. People said that truth was stranger than fiction, and Ryoma had just experienced that firsthand.

He seriously thinks that if he hides behind his family name, I’ll just settle down obediently, Ryoma thought. That’s some amazing confidence. Or, well, overconfidence, in this case. Either way, it’s impressive, to be honest.

Confidence meant that one believed in their abilities or powers or that they believed they could achieve the future they desired, and there was no room for a third party to interfere. In essence, it came down to whether one believed in oneself.

Having confidence might seem very simple and fully within one’s control, but realistically speaking, it wasn’t that easy. For example, anyone who went through an entrance exam knew how hard it was to be confident in one’s chances. Students could study for days on end to enter their desired schools, each of them spending their time optimally to study, but they wouldn’t know if their choice to work so hard would pay off until the exams concluded. After all, they all believed they’d worked their hardest, but many of them would still go to shrines, praying and buying amulets to gain divine favor. Praying for success was hardly unusual, but if they were truly confident in themselves and their efforts, they wouldn’t need to rely on divine favor. Still, it was human nature to cling to something else in times of uncertainty.

Believing in yourself was easier said than done, so Count Hamilton’s attitude really was strange. He honestly believed he could convince an enemy he hated to step down and change their mind through nothing but a verbal promise.

That’s the kind of thing I’d never see in Japan.

Most people in the modern world would think Count Hamilton was a pompous, overconfident fool, perhaps even a madman to be avoided, but that was just how things worked in modern Japan. From what Ryoma knew, most nobles would have actually taken Count Hamilton at his word. Or, if nothing else, they wouldn’t have questioned it.

Counts, depending on their influence, were either medium- or high-ranking nobles. Count Hamilton also managed the House of Lords’ personnel, which granted him more military strength than most. The only people in this room who could openly oppose Count Hamilton were his superiors, Marquis Halcyon and Count Eisenbach.

This kind of thing isn’t totally impossible in Japan, but it just wouldn’t be this exaggerated. I guess that’s just the nobility for you.

It wasn’t unusual for people to suck up to their superiors, or even change their minds based on what their superiors thought. In other words, they would infer how their superiors felt and act accordingly. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing either. If no one ever budged on their opinions, nothing would ever resolve smoothly.

Ryoma, however, saw these nobles as enemies, and no matter what they thought, he had no intention of stepping down.

“If you ask for proof, I can simply say that the bailiff works for the House of Lords—the very same bailiff who shut me inside a dark room for nearly a full day. That much is fact. Don’t you think it’s only natural to assume that someone from the House of Lords instructed him to do so? And earlier, Count Eisenbach attested that this hearing is managed entirely by Marquis Halcyon. Does it not make sense, then, that I would come to that conclusion?”

His attitude was bold, if not outright brazen, but to these nobles who loathed him, seeing him act so collected and unperturbed was more irritating than anything. This was like watching a low-grade employee argue with a company’s president. Obviously a whelp who didn’t know his place would buy their ire, but Ryoma was well aware of what he was doing.

“Like I said, this is an unjust suspicion on your be—” Count Hamilton started, but this time, the dignity and confidence in his voice seemed somewhat shaken. He hadn’t expected Ryoma to argue back so directly.

“And if I recall, the bailiff who showed me in was also called Hamilton...which gives me the impression that he might be related to you. Could it be...?”

With these words, Ryoma had turned his criticism from Marquis Halcyon to Count Hamilton, and though he’d trailed off, the intent behind his words was clear. A heavy silence settled over the room.

Count Hamilton had just tried to help his colleagues but had brought the blame on himself instead. He racked his brains for a way out of this. Ryoma wasn’t kind enough to let his enemy’s moment of weakness pass by without capitalizing on it, though.

“I think that I’m going to have to start questioning whether this court is as impartial as it claims to be...”

Ryoma shrugged dramatically and shook his head, but no one dared blame him for the impolite gesture. They couldn’t; Ryoma’s doubt was reasonable. No one present held any delusions that this was a fair trial—neither Ryoma, who was the one being subjected to this hearing, nor the House of Lords, who were holding it. Nevertheless, the House of Lords couldn’t let it be known that this trial wasn’t impartial and fair, because they wanted to use it as an opportunity to attack a whelp they disliked.

Eventually, Marquis Halcyon broke his silence with a sigh. He looked Ryoma in the eyes and said, “Very well. Though unintentional, I will admit our hospitality was lacking. Your misgivings are understandable, Baron Mikoshiba.”

The other nobles began murmuring among themselves. The director of the House of Lords had acknowledged that their treatment of Ryoma, albeit unintentional, was improper. Considering the difference in their ranks, a marquis apologizing to a baron was unimaginable.

Marquis Halcyon carried on, disregarding the nobles’ whispering. “Now then, what can we do to alleviate your misgivings?”

The director of the House of Lords was raising the white flag to Ryoma Mikoshiba, which was exactly what Ryoma wanted.

“That’s a good question. In that case...”

After a moment’s contemplation, Ryoma uttered his demand to Marquis Halcyon.

♱

Douglas Hamilton dragged his legs along with a heavy, melancholic air. His steps had no power. He was hunched over, and his head was hanging low, like a prisoner climbing the steps to the gallows. As his footsteps echoed loudly through the stone corridor, there wasn’t a hint of the arrogance he’d displayed the day prior.

Everything looks the same as ever, but something is obviously different.

Lights lined both sides of the corridor, and armed guards stood in set intervals between each other. As a member of House Hamilton in service to the House of Lords and a bailiff, Douglas had seen this sight every day for over ten years, but something critical was missing today.

Is this what this hall looked like to all the prisoners I brought here?

Something dark and oppressive had bound Douglas’s heart. Up until now, he’d walked this corridor as a bailiff leading convicts to their destination, but now he was the one being led along. Douglas was shocked to realize how much a change in one’s position could alter a familiar sight.

As a distant relative of Count Hamilton, who was in charge of the House of Lords’ staff, Douglas was someone to whom others had to bow. Or at least he was until just an hour ago, when all that had changed.

Why? Why did this happen? All I did was obey the count’s instructions. Everyone else knows it too, so why?

Douglas continued to drag his feet, following the bailiff who was once his colleague. Nothing he could say now would change things. If words could fix this, he wouldn’t have been in this position to begin with. After all, Douglas was a member of House Hamilton, a family whose authority over the House of Lords was second only to Marquis Halcyon himself.

That said, Douglas was a distant relative; he wasn’t a member of the head house. He had a claim to the headship, but his chances of inheriting the title were close to nil. Even so, as a blood relative of the count, he’d received the favor of many people in service to the House of Lords. That favor had its limits, though, and it didn’t give him license to do whatever he pleased.

Unlike other bailiffs, Douglas was often allotted manageable, docile defendants and prisoners, so he rarely ran into unexpected situations, and he was often accompanied by more knights and guards than necessary. When he demanded bribes, everyone else in the House of Lords’ employ looked the other way. As greedy as Douglas was, he was good at his job, and the people he demanded bribes from were usually defendants in very weak positions. So while some might have frowned upon his actions, nothing was ever said. He very much ruled the place. His relation, although distant, to a man in power ensured his success, but at some point, Douglas’s reign seemed to have ended, turning into an age of decline.

The bailiff and Douglas arrived at a room in a corner of the House of Lords.

“Excuse me,” the bailiff said courteously as he knocked on the door. “I’ve brought the man you asked for, as per the director’s instructions.”

His call was answered immediately, implying that the people inside had been waiting for them.

“Good. Come in,” replied a voice as clear as a bell.

A girl with waist-length silver hair wearing a maid’s outfit beckoned them inside. Her face confirmed Douglas’s greatest fears.

It’s like I thought. But why? Why is this happening?!

On the way here, Douglas had vaguely suspected that this might be what was going on. There was no other probable cause that could have brought this on—nothing but his arrival yesterday at Count Salzberg’s estate to pick up Baron Ryoma Mikoshiba.

“I will be off, then.” The bailiff bowed, having handed custody of Douglas over to the silver-haired girl, and left the room. It was evident that the bailiff hadn’t wanted to linger even a second longer than he absolutely had to. From his perspective, he’d just thrown Douglas into shark-infested waters, and his guilt kept him from watching the atrocity that would follow, even though he didn’t much care for Douglas and his greedy, arrogant ways. Perhaps deep down the bailiff was gleeful about this, but that depended on Douglas’s past behavior.

The maid led Douglas into the room, where he stood before a man seated on a sofa—the room’s owner, Ryoma Mikoshiba. Douglas shivered, likely out of fear.

“Master Ryoma, they’ve brought him,” another girl whispered to Ryoma, whose eyes were closed in thought. She had the same facial features as the girl who’d opened the door, but her hair was a golden color.

Ryoma nodded and slowly rose from the sofa, smiling broadly at Douglas.

“We meet again,” he said, “Mr. Hamilton the bailiff. Well, you’re not a bailiff anymore, are you? And if I just called you by your last name, it might sound like I’m addressing Count Hamilton. But Douglas is fine, right?”

Ryoma gestured for Douglas to take a seat on the sofa. There was no enmity in his gesture, nor any sense of superiority based on how their positions had flipped in a day. It was just an ordinary gesture. However, Ryoma’s innocuous behavior made Douglas feel like he was about to lie on a bed of thorns. He was prepared to be shouted at and threatened, but he had no idea what to expect from this.

Douglas took a seat on the sofa, visibly frightened. Ryoma leaned over and poured some water into a glass for him.

“I’d usually serve a guest liquor, but sadly this is all we have here,” Ryoma said, placing the glass before Douglas.

The glass was full of a transparent fluid. If Ryoma was to be believed, it was just water. And it probably was, if only because they weren’t in Ryoma’s domain or at Count Salzberg’s estate. They were in the House of Lords, a stronghold managed by Rhoadseria’s nobles. Expecting any proper hospitality from Ryoma when he came here to be questioned would be excessive, but that wasn’t what made Douglas pause.

Ice? And so much of it...

This world had no electrical appliances like refrigerators, so ice was precious and rare. It wasn’t unobtainable, but it wasn’t readily available either. One could store it in an ice room during the winter, or go to a mountain covered in perpetual snow. Or one could create ice using thaumaturgy and sell it for money. But even if one could store ice somewhere or collect it from a mountain, transporting it cost time and man power.

In both cases, traveling to a remote area came with the risk of being attacked by monsters, so one had to be able to repel the monsters. Plus, the deeper you went into the mountains, the less the trails were maintained, which ruled out traveling by carriage. One had to leave their carriage at the foot of the mountain and carry the ice along the mountain trail. It all resulted in absurd costs in man power, so the price of delivering ice was high. It was so costly that some adventurers specialized in delivering ice, and many of the upper classes paid for it, seeking to chill themselves during the sweltering summer.

More specifically, those who were wealthy but not powerful paid for ice to be delivered. The true upper classes hired verbal thaumaturgists. To them, rather than going to the guild to obtain ice, they could ask the thaumaturgists they’d already hired as teachers or guards to do it, which was both safer and quicker.

Ice made with verbal thaumaturgy had no impurities in it, and the caster could manipulate the size of it and the amount they produced. In addition, most thaumaturgists would cast the spell in front of their clients, eliminating the possibility of poisoning, which worried many people in the upper classes. It wasn’t a perfect countermeasure to the threat of assassination, but most powerful nobles saw it as a way to reduce the chances of it.

What troubled Douglas was the fact that his glass of water had such precious ice in it. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

What is going on? Is there some kind of catch to this?

Honestly speaking, Douglas wasn’t under the impression that Ryoma liked him whatsoever. It was much more likely that Ryoma loathed him. After all, Douglas had taken his money under the table but hadn’t shown him any preferential treatment, instead locking him in a small, windowless room for a whole night. Douglas didn’t do that of his own accord—he’d only carried out Count Hamilton’s instructions—but he knew that wasn’t going to help him any.

Besides, isn’t he the one who abducted my family?

That doubt hung heavily over Douglas. There was no proof implicating Ryoma of kidnapping, but given the situation, Ryoma had the most reason to hold a grudge and act out against Douglas, so it was hard to believe Ryoma was unrelated to this. The letter did mention that as long as he followed their instructions, his family would be unharmed, but Douglas wasn’t oblivious enough to blindly believe a verbal promise from criminals. The instructions they mentioned hadn’t reached him yet, so he had nothing to follow anyway.

“Here you go. Take a breather for the time being,” Ryoma said.

Ryoma urged Douglas to drink, so Douglas carefully reached for the glass. After steeling himself, he brought it to his lips...only to be surprised.

“This is...fruit water?” he asked.

A refreshing, fruity aroma filled his nostrils. The mild sourness of citrus fruit and the sweetness of apple relaxed Douglas’s heart. More than anything, the fragrant grasslike aroma made all the tension drain from his body. The flavor made him want to sigh in relief.

“Before we get down to business, allow me to greet you,” Ryoma said, settling his gaze on Douglas. “I’m Ryoma Mikoshiba. I have been granted the title of baron in the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. I govern the Wortenia Peninsula and have placed the northern regions under my control. That’s all the official titles, but, well, you knew all that.” Ryoma then shrugged, his expression somewhat sheepish.

All of this struck Douglas as rather out of place, so his discomfort was understandable. Just a few days ago, Douglas had arrived at Count Salzberg’s villa, where Ryoma was staying, meaning he knew perfectly well who Ryoma was. While Ryoma was technically a minor aristocrat, he was still a noble with a title, so one couldn’t just ignore him.

“Aah... I-I am Douglas Hamilton,” Douglas muttered in response, stumbling over his words. “A distant relative of Count Hamilton. Allow me to apologize for what happened yesterday. I hope our relations can be cordial in the future, Baron Mikoshiba...sir.”

Under normal circumstances, this exchange would have been impolite. It was different in Ryoma’s world, but in Rhoadseria and other countries in this world, those from a lower class introduced themselves to those of a higher station first. Even in modern society, which didn’t have a strict class system, there was a pecking order based on age and social position—full-time employees and part-time ones, parents and children, teachers and students. Human interactions were made up of a complex web of such relationships.

In modern society, being late to introduce oneself to someone higher didn’t cost one their life. At most, it would spark gossip that the person had no common sense. In this world, however, with its class system and Rhoadseria’s particularly severe rules for how nobles were treated, it could be a matter of life and death. One could be executed for insolence, depending on circumstances.

Of course, this time, Ryoma addressed Douglas first, so this was an exception. Furthermore, this was the House of Lords, and while Douglas wasn’t a noble with a title, he wasn’t a commoner either, so such matters could be overlooked. Still, it would make sense for Douglas to bow his head and pay his respects.

Douglas knew all this too. As a distant relative of Count Hamilton, he’d been thoroughly educated in manners and etiquette from youth, so normally this exchange would have gone smoothly and elegantly. But given the situation, he wasn’t in the state of mind to do so. His position was much different from what it was just yesterday, and now Ryoma was the winner and he was the loser. Douglas wouldn’t have been escorted to this room otherwise.

Ryoma’s attitude, on the other hand, didn’t give that impression at all, and Douglas had no idea how he should act. He felt like he was being tortured.

Meanwhile, Ryoma regarded Douglas with a smile—not because he was exceptionally magnanimous toward him, but because he couldn’t care less how Douglas felt. Ryoma had only called for Douglas because he needed Douglas to do something for him.

But the way things are going, we’ll be getting nowhere... Ryoma thought.

Ryoma cared little about Douglas himself, and he wasn’t targeting him because of a grudge or any particular dislike. He simply needed the right tool to ensure that his next plot succeeded, and Douglas, who’d accepted Ryoma’s money but hadn’t helped him at all, was the perfect candidate. Plus, Douglas’s abducted family acted as insurance.

In the end, since Douglas had taken Ryoma’s money, he had to pay the price. Most people would be upset if they received nothing after offering such a sum. It was unfortunate that Douglas had no choice, and he was to be pitied, but since he’d already accepted Ryoma’s bribe, he was perhaps getting his just deserts.

Nonetheless, they had to get to the main topic, or else this meeting would be a waste of time. One needed to tend to their tools if they wanted them to be effective, and Ryoma knew this very well.

“Now, now, calm down a little. I’m not going to pluck you and eat you, you know? Just drink some water, okay?” Ryoma said, trying to calm Douglas as he looked around nervously.

Douglas shivered at the sound of Ryoma’s voice, but he did seem to relax a little after that. Or maybe he merely resigned himself to whatever might come. Whichever it was, he picked up the glass and downed its contents.

“Yes, thank you. So why did you call for me, sir?” Douglas asked.

Ryoma nodded, satisfied. “Actually, I wanted to ask you to handle a little task for me.”

“A...task?”

Douglas felt intense chills wash over him. He was getting a bad feeling about what was coming next. There was no basis or reason for this premonition; it was just a gut feeling that was as likely to be true as it was to be off the mark. Except this time, Douglas was almost sure it was accurate.

“I call it a task, but it’s really nothing big. Though it is a bit dangerous, I’ll admit,” Ryoma continued.

The implication behind Ryoma’s words was clear, and Douglas wasn’t nearly foolish enough to miss their nuance. After being called here like this, Douglas wouldn’t believe it was just a small task.

“And that would be?” Douglas asked, his eyes full of suspicion and distrust.

No one would blindly agree to this. In any other situation, Douglas would have kicked the chair away and stormed out of the room. The fact that he hadn’t done so meant he knew his place in this situation.

There were two reasons Douglas couldn’t leave. The first was that his own colleagues had brought him to this room, and the second was that Ryoma was probably involved in his family’s sudden disappearance.

Ryoma was well aware that Douglas suspected him too.

I shouldn’t toy with him too much, though. Let’s cut to the chase.

“It really is nothing too big,” Ryoma said. “I want you to use your authority to open the door leading to the underground passage. That’s all.”

Curious, Douglas cocked his head. “The underground passage? You mean the evacuation passage meant for emergencies?”

Ryoma nodded. “Yes, that one.”

Douglas fell silent, staring fixedly at the young noble seated before him. The door leading to the underground passage was usually locked tight. It was forbidden to open it, and no one in recent memory had ever used it. In fact, very few people even knew it existed.

The only ones who knew of this door were the guards charged with protecting it and some of the House of Lords’ most influential members. Douglas only knew of it because Count Hamilton had ordered him to be prepared to unlock it if the need arose. He had a general knowledge of what was behind it, but he’d never actually stepped inside. This was because the underground passage was an evacuation path leading out of the House of Lords, under the castle gates, and all the way outside the capital.

And this man knows about it? Most members of the House of Lords don’t even know of it. He’s well prepared... Douglas thought.

Douglas’s bad feeling was growing ever grimmer. He was beginning to piece together why Ryoma Mikoshiba had called for him.

The door to the underground passage was small and inconspicuous, so as to not draw attention, and the area around it was forbidden at most times. Only a few guards watched over the door, but in exchange, they were some of the most skilled guards in the House of Lords’ employ. Forcing one’s way through them would be difficult, and if anyone were to try, the House of Lords’ knights would immediately notice the disturbance and hurry over to help. Therefore, the safest way to get through this door would be to go through the official procedures of unlocking it.

But those procedures are quite rigid. If I recall correctly, it requires a decree from the director, Marquis Halcyon...

A secret passage leading outside the capital was a security liability, so the procedures to open the door were complex. Even so, Douglas knew this was all pretense; if a powerful enough member of the House of Lords or their relative were to order it, the passage could be unlocked with ease. And as a relative of Count Hamilton, the number three member of the House of Lords, Douglas could possibly apply enough pressure to make it happen.

If it’s just ensuring the door is opened, I could do that. At least, until now, I could just go and tell the guards that Count Hamilton ordered that the door be opened, but...

But the problem was that Douglas’s current position wasn’t the same as it was just yesterday. One day earlier and he could have thrown around his authority, but now that his fellow bailiffs had brought him here like a prisoner, it was doubtful if he had much influence left.

And what is he intending to do after I open the door? I shudder to even consider this, but...

The most plausible scenario was that Ryoma was planning to escape the House of Lords, but although that was likely, it felt altogether meaningless.

Assuming he escapes the capital safely, what then? Is he just going to hole himself up in Wortenia?

Ryoma had overcome Count Salzberg in the previous war, placing northern Rhoadseria under his rule in the process, but that was only temporary. Surely the commoners wouldn’t view this new governor who cast them into war favorably. If Ryoma did hide in his territory, a subjugation army under the royal house’s banner would march on his lands and no doubt sway the hearts of the commoners away from Ryoma’s side. Even if Ryoma escaped, there were only two options left to him: surrender or suicide.

Or maybe, being the commoner that he is, he would pathetically throw it all away and flee the country.

If Ryoma tried to escape the House of Lords at this point, he would have no future. Douglas couldn’t see this ending any other way.

In spite of Douglas’s doubts, Ryoma maintained a composed smile as he asked, “What do you say, Mr. Douglas? Do you accept?”

“Am I allowed to refuse?” Douglas asked with a self-deprecating smile.

“I’m not twisting your arm.” Ryoma shrugged, but the smile vanished from his lips. He leveled his gaze at Douglas, his eyes cold. “But if you don’t undertake this request, you’ll be forfeiting your reward. And unlike you, I don’t renege on a promise, even if it is just a verbal one. As proof, I’ll give you this.”

Laura, who was standing behind Ryoma, picked up a wooden box and placed it on the table. She then slowly opened the lid.

The moment Douglas saw its contents, all became clear to him. This boy, whom he’d mocked as a lowborn commoner until now, had just bared his fangs at him, and their length and sharpness sent shivers down Douglas’s spine.

Sitting inside the box were a ring and a hairpin, both of which were familiar to Douglas. No, they were more than just familiar. The ring was the wedding ring he’d given to his wife, and the hairpin was a birthday present he’d given his daughter.

My wife would never take off her ring, and my girl cherished this hairpiece. No!

Douglas’s expression contorted into a grimace as the worst-case scenario crossed his mind. Yet, upon closer inspection, the ring and hairpiece were clean and untouched, just like he remembered them. There wasn’t a drop of blood on them. This implied that his wife and daughter hadn’t been taken by force. That wasn’t of much solace to him, though, because Douglas wasn’t nearly foolish enough to miss the meaning of all this.

A long silence hung over them, until eventually, Douglas spoke.

“I see. So these are your methods...” Douglas said, his hands shaking. His heart sizzled with anger and hatred toward the man sitting calmly before him. How satisfying it would be to let out his emotions and slam his fists into this terrible man’s face.

His was the righteous anger of a man whose family had been taken hostage, but none of the gazes in the room fixed on Douglas had an ounce of pity in them—only scorn and enmity. To those in Ryoma’s service, Douglas had disrespected and insulted their lord.

“Why did you do this?” Douglas murmured, his head hung and his fists clenched on his lap. He was shivering with suppressed rage. “True, I didn’t help you even though I took your money, but...my wife and my daughter are innocent. They have nothing to do with this, do they?”

Douglas was in a truly pitiful state, but Ryoma Mikoshiba wasn’t naive enough to let his heart be swayed by such cheap theater.

“I was under the impression that, in this world, the debts of a parent are passed down to their children,” Ryoma stated. “I could be mistaken, but isn’t that how you’ve lived your life so far? And the rules aren’t going to bend just because you’re on the receiving end of that for once, no matter how inconvenient it might be for you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Douglas Hamilton?”

“Th-That’s...” Douglas stumbled over his words.

It was quite common in noble society for the sins of a parent to be passed down to their children. As a member of the House of Lords, Douglas had escorted to the gallows several people who were paying for their relative’s crimes. Most of them were young men or elderly people, but some of them were children—toddlers still not out of their diapers. He didn’t enjoy sentencing them to death, and if he could have shirked this duty, he would have. The sight of mothers begging for their child’s life tugged at his conscience and weighed on his heart.

The bailiffs often foisted the job of manning the gallows onto each other. Douglas wasn’t a man without emotion, but the fact remained that he’d been complicit in forcing children to repay their parents’ debts and crimes.

This man...

Douglas understood perfectly well what the baron sitting before him with a composed, calculated smile was getting at. The crimes of the accused were paid by their families.

Modern society stressed individual rights over filial relations, so it had greatly improved on this concept. For example, debts were meant to be repaid by the one who took the loan, but since ancient days, debts had been passed on from parent to child. It was a child’s duty to repay what their parents owed. Many historical dramas drew on this idea as inspiration, often including plots with a daughter or wife being sent as collateral for a man’s loan, which wasn’t an entirely fictional idea.

This wasn’t limited to debts either. Favors and revenge were also subject to this logic. It wasn’t unheard of for one to repay a debt of gratitude to the child of their benefactor, especially among those who knew the battlefield. The same applied to revenge. Plenty of stories told of avengers who, upon learning that their nemeses had died, had turned their blades to their enemies’ children. Unlike most stories, such cases rarely devolved into life and death, but every now and then, people were lured by the sweet temptation of revenge, most often when there was a large difference in class between the avenger and the target.

What’s more, before modern times, there was a belief called guilt by association, wherein blood relatives were complicit in a person’s crimes, so a parent’s wrongdoings could result in the exile or execution of a child and vice versa. Some modern societies still followed this reasoning. For instance, when it came to Japan’s Public Office Election Law, guilt by association still applied. Even if a candidate wasn’t directly involved with a crime, if their secretary or blood relatives had taken bribes or committed an election offense, the candidate might have to withdraw, and they’d be forbidden from being a candidate for a certain number of years.

This was unreasonable in modern society, but if one were to think of punishment as a deterrent, this was an effective method—especially for people who cherished their family and friends’ well-being more than their own. And Douglas deeply cared for his wife and child.

“This being the case, can we count on your cooperation?” Ryoma prodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll send a person to give you the right time to open the door. You don’t have to hesitate at all.”

Douglas sighed. He was powerless and couldn’t possibly refuse.

“All right, I think that was the final tweak the plan needed,” Ryoma whispered as he watched Douglas shuffle out of the room with his shoulders drooping.

Laura, who stood behind him, replied immediately. “Yes, from watching his reactions, I doubt he’d betray us.”

“I think so too,” Sara said, “but he’s betrayed us once already. We should keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do it again. It’ll keep us safe from any unexpected developments too.”

Even if Douglas didn’t intentionally betray them, his behavior and attitude could tip off his colleagues. For that reason, leaving Douglas unattended was risky.

“Yeah, agreed. Let’s have some of the Igasaki ninjas that infiltrated the place follow him,” Ryoma concluded.

Hearing those words, a knight standing by the wall, who was clad in the House of Lords’ armor, nodded and followed Douglas out of the room. As Ryoma watched him leave, he thought of the tasks ahead of him.

The Igasaki ninjas... They’re a godsend in these kinds of situations. But the issue is that in this world, there’s no saying that other people aren’t aware of ninja tactics.

Even though ninjas weren’t an established school in this world, other groups could be using similar methods. Spies, information brokers, and assassins all employed comparable techniques, and adventurers incorporated such concepts as they explored forests and the like. Indeed, some adventurers went on to become spies for major nobles after they retired from adventuring. These nobles hesitated to give knights or squires from dignified families such dirty work, so adventurers turned spies were much easier to use; they weren’t weighed down by pride or a sense of duty, they wanted only money for compensation, and they knew the way the world worked.

Among the countries in the western continent, some took in children and raised them to be spies, which went to show the lengths people would go to get their hands on dependable operatives. The information they handled could shake the foundations of entire countries, after all, so while their skill was important, trustworthiness was far more crucial.

In that regard, getting to know Gennou and Sakuya during Rhoadseria’s civil war and bringing the Igasaki clan under his employ was a stroke of luck for Ryoma. But it also meant he had to be wary of the possibility that future enemies might also have a network of spies like the Igasaki clan. If that were to happen, counterintelligence would become paramount.

Information security... 

This was a fairly new concept in modern society, mostly used by IT companies, but at its core it described a thesis that had been in use for ages. The concepts of espionage and counterintelligence had lurked in the shadows of war for as long as war had existed.

The opposition’s lack of brains this time does work in my favor, though. 

The Igasaki ninjas he’d sent to infiltrate this place were skilled, but more importantly, the House of Lords had barely any counterintelligence measures in place. With everyone wearing helmets that covered their entire face, it was difficult to distinguish who you were talking to, and even if that wasn’t the case, there were nearly a thousand people working in the House of Lords—even more if one counted the errand boys handling the chores. Identifying each and every person in the building was hard enough, so stopping a hostile third party from infiltrating their ranks was even harder.

On the other hand, since Ryoma had beaten Count Salzberg and expanded his domain to include the northern regions, completely fending off enemy spies would become difficult. Ryoma had all sorts of countermeasures in place to prevent that, but the fact that the Igasaki clan could infiltrate the House of Lords—which was a part of the palace—with such ease was both a favorable outcome for Ryoma and a potential problem.

“When we get back to Sirius, I’ll have to talk things over with Gennou again,” Ryoma whispered to himself as he rose from the sofa. He then looked to Laura, having recalled something. “Right, I almost forgot to ask. What did Dilphina say about the illness?”

Laura’s answer was severe.

♱

Several hours had passed since Douglas Hamilton left the room. Ryoma was seated on the sofa, relishing the aroma of his Qwiltantian tea. He looked at the clock sitting on the table, its hands indicating it was almost one in the afternoon.

After his verbal dogfight that morning with Count Halcyon and the upper echelon of the House of Lords, Ryoma had gained a temporary recess in the hearing, but once the clock struck one, the cease-fire would end.

Just a little longer, and this farce will finally be over.

Ryoma scoffed as the time for the hearing’s continuation approached. However, he wasn’t worried by the prospect of once again having to fight them in a battle of words. In the several hours since Douglas had left, Ryoma had remained shut in this room. He wasn’t displeased by that, though, since he knew it was necessary. Still, even though waiting was part of his plan, it didn’t necessarily put him in a good mood. It wasn’t a waste of time, but it did feel like time spent doing nothing. Ryoma was a busy man; being a governor was by no means an easy job. Military affairs, internal affairs, diplomacy—all these matters were decided by his skill.

Of course, some nobles resorted to heavy taxation and forced their underlings to manage all their practical duties while they enjoyed comfort and pleasures, but governors like that weren’t fated to live long. A rebellion would break out that would destroy their bloodlines, or their family or vassals would plot against them, resulting in their death from illness or an unfortunate accident.

Count Salzberg had spent years living a life of debauchery, but he’d been able to afford it thanks to his transcendent skills as a warrior, his glory and accomplishments, and Lady Yulia’s talents in governing in his stead. He was very much an exception to the rule. No noble with any average sense of responsibility or affection for their domain would act so irresponsibly.

What’s more, the domain Ryoma gained following his last war was vast, especially since most of the ten houses that governed northern Rhoadseria had been destroyed. In terms of surface area, these lands were less than a fourth of the size of the Wortenia Peninsula, but in conquering the north, Ryoma had gained borders with the neighboring kingdoms of Xarooda and Myest. Plus, these domains were populated by citizens. Unlike his peninsula, which was mostly an undeveloped, unpopulated land, this land required him to deal with certain aspects that he hadn’t needed to before. With all these details, Ryoma’s already considerable workload became even bigger.

Yet with all this, he suddenly had spare time. Out of concern for his health, Laura and Sara pushed him to take a break with a cup of tea, but Ryoma wanted nothing more than to get going.

I guess I could ease up a bit and use the extra time to rest, but considering the next war, I feel like I should be doing everything I can right now.

Just then, he heard the bell outside ring thirteen times, indicating that it was one in the afternoon. This was the signal he’d been waiting for, the call that heralded the beginning of his battle.

“Let’s get going,” Ryoma said, rising from the sofa.