9 (9)

He had not been fond of Louis. Because he remembered only the past, it was hard to say that was truly his fault. But after coming here and feeling from Louis an aura greater than Fred’s—no, greater even than Remitri’s—he had undeniably been cowed. He even broke out in a slight cold sweat, and so, quite unlike himself, he let Duncan, head of House Sbah, seize the initiative. In any case, with Louis now the only blood relative who could inherit the ducal title, even if Louis turned out disappointing and not to his liking, there was no other choice.

“Duke Louis, I too will devote body and soul to fulfill whatever duties you command of me.”

Louis looked at Patrick, head of House Bitel. From Patrick’s expression alone, Louis could tell that the man had not liked him at first. When those fierce eyes of his curved round suddenly, Louis knew he was saying words that did not come from the heart. Compared to Duncan of House Sbah, who had stubbornly refused any cooperation, Patrick had given Marquis Gangpireu a certain degree of help.

Even so, Louis did not blame Patrick. Had Louis been in his position, he would also have cooperated to some extent to minimize his house’s losses. To discriminate over that would have been strange. Still, as the man who now stood above them, he had to keep in mind that there ought to be a difference in how they were treated.

Duncan of House Sbah might have acted in what seemed an unreasonable way, but it was undeniable that he had acted honorably and bravely. Louis looked deeply into the eyes of the two power-holders who had borne responsibility for their houses for so long. Their gazes met. What was certain was that Patrick of House Bitel’s loyalty fell somewhat short, but both seemed to be above the minimum threshold where he had to worry about rebellion.

“I, Louis of Pontina, head of House Pontina, hereby demand the loyalty of House Sbah and House Bitel.”

The oath-taking ceremony. By naming House Sbah first, Louis indirectly rewarded Duncan for being the more honorable man. Duncan of House Sbah broke into a broad smile that anyone could see, while Patrick of House Bitel, standing beside him, went stiff-faced. He bitterly regretted having dismissed his nephew’s words with contempt. Louis had seen through his true feelings. But the arrow had already left the bow, and Duncan of House Sbah, whose name had been called first, was the one who got to swear his oath of loyalty before anyone else.

It might have looked like a trivial matter of order, but it meant that Louis, now the greatest authority in the Pontina domain, trusted House Sbah more than House Bitel in the northern region—and that greater trust going forward implied a variety of very real benefits he would bestow on them.

Patrick of House Bitel, who knew the workings of this land better than anyone, sweated even more. In his mind, he asked himself countless times how he might make up for this mistake. Before long, he even found himself thinking, I really must be getting old. He had never once failed to tell who would rise and who would not, and he could not understand why he had allowed himself to be trapped by prejudice this time.

By contrast, Duncan of House Sbah felt not the slightest shame about his actions and let that feeling show openly on his face as he went up to Louis, knelt, and spoke.

“House Sbah will hereafter follow Duke Louis of Pontina.”

It was a plain answer, with all fancy phrasing stripped away, but it was more than enough. Louis put his hand on Duncan’s shoulder.

“Very good. In addition to what you have managed thus far, I will entrust House Sbah with temporary control of the city of Grad.”

Patrick’s expression turned bleak when he heard those words. The only solace was the word Louis had added: temporary. That meant he still had a chance. Resolving to be far more careful in his actions from now on, he happened to meet Duncan’s eyes as the man rose. Duncan, who had been his political rival for many years, gave Patrick a victor’s smile.

Duncan had fought Patrick politically for a long time, always cursing him as a man obsessed solely with practical gain and devoid of any sense of honor. But because Fred had trusted Patrick, Duncan had clashed with him over and over.

Unable to hide his discomfort, Patrick wore the miserable look of a man whose meat had just been snatched from his plate. Yet, having only moments ago sworn to cut his mistakes down to nothing, he scrupulously hid any hint of complaint in his voice.

“House Bitel will hereafter swear loyalty to Duke Louis of Pontina.”

Louis put a hand on his shoulder. Though he was not ready to trust him completely, Louis was a realist himself and wanted to leave Patrick some room for opportunity.

“I accept your oath. In addition to your existing responsibilities, House Bitel will take charge of Grad’s dye industry.”

At Louis’s declaration, Patrick jolted out of his state of despair. He had never imagined the opportunity given to him would be this great. The tightness finally eased from his once-bleak face. When it came to matters of money, Patrick had full confidence in his own ability to produce results. Fred had trusted him for the same reason: he had always been good at making money.

“I will do my utmost with all my zeal and sincerity.”

Once Patrick rose and returned to his place, Louis spoke slowly to the two lords.

“The reason I entrust you with such important duties is that, after a few days of refitting, I will march on Marquis Gangpireu’s cities. Until I return, the governance of Grad will be left to whichever of you produces better results. Keep that in mind.”

Duncan had been delighted, thinking the authority to rule Grad had passed entirely into his hands, and felt a stab of disappointment when he realized that was not the case. But that vanished quickly when he heard that Louis meant to attack Marquis Gangpireu’s cities, and his mood rose again. Strictly speaking, he still held the advantage. Aside from the industrial sector, all authority at the top flowed from his hands, so it should be easier for him than for Patrick to show results.

In any case, the simple yet important matters were now settled. It was time to put everything else off and depart on campaign.

After Marquis Gangpireu’s death, the routed survivors who had somehow carved out a path of retreat brought news of the defeat to his children. Among the marquis’s eight sons, the eldest, Haidek Douglas, fell into shock. Though tall of stature, he was now as bloodless as if a vampire had sunk its teeth into his neck.

It was not only the fact that his father had died that shocked him; he could not believe that the father who had prepared for war so thoroughly had been defeated so overwhelmingly. In wars of words alone, he had lost seven times out of ten to his father; Marquis Haidek Gangpireu had known all too well what war was.

If there was a reason for defeat, it ultimately came down to choosing the wrong first target. According to the soldiers, the final victor of the succession war was Louis of Pontina.

‘That little brat…’

He did not know the details, but Douglas knew that Louis was considerably younger than he was. Because Marquis Gangpireu had had his first son early, Douglas was already approaching middle age, and so he had naturally looked down on Louis.

‘No. Father would never lose to some inexperienced whelp… so how did this happen?’

Yet the answer lay plain before his eyes. Even Fred, the eldest of Remitri of Pontina’s sons, was younger than Douglas. Fred’s swordsmanship was famous even in the capital; his military talent had been verified to some extent. And his father had virtually devoted himself to studying only one thing: how to defeat Fred in war. It had not been long ago that he had chosen a frontal confrontation and marched out with pride. When the single letter arrived at the marquisate announcing that he had killed Fred, how happy Douglas had been. No child in this world grew gloomy when his father was doing well.

Once he inherited, everything would be his; until recently, he had strutted about boasting with a pride that nearly verged on swagger. He had firmly believed that the glorious House Pontina would collapse to the point of ruin in his generation, and that their lands would become his. But now, what was this? This bolt-from-the-blue news did nothing but deepen his confusion.

Even if he accepted his father’s death, what gnawed at him was that the one to inherit the ducal title turned out to be Louis of Pontina. It made him sick with envy. Marquis Gangpireu had truly been unlucky in his children. Douglas, whose greed far outstripped his ability, could not begin to calculate just how bad the overall situation might become.

This incident alone showed as much. Douglas had blithely assumed that once his father, Marquis Gangpireu, died, the marquisate would naturally pass to him—but his brothers did not think so at all. Three of them were hiding their feelings completely and preparing themselves to become marquis.

Once this grim news reached each of his brothers, it would be obvious what would happen: in a situation where they were desperately short of regular troops and Douglas did not even command any private soldiers, he would soon be murdered by his own siblings.

Ignorant of all that, while Louis might at any time launch a string of attacks on their undefended cities, Douglas shouted, “Bring me wine!” and wallowed in jealousy and inferiority toward Louis, who had accomplished such a mighty achievement. In his foul mood, he decided to lay hands on one of his father’s concubines, whom he had not dared touch before.

Late that night, a woman came to see Louis, her face hidden beneath a veil drawn low. Louis knew that face well. When she removed the veil, a beautiful woman’s radiant features appeared. Were there a painter to capture this in a portrait, this work would surely be titled something like melancholy or sorrowing beauty. The face belonged to Enika, Dekal’s wife—the one Louis had killed in that night raid at the very start of the succession war.

‘A widow now, I see.’

Louis felt a twinge of guilt, but he did not pity her. Their relationship had already been broken beyond repair; the situation was such that even if they had divorced soon after, it would not have been strange.

Louis still remembered all too well how he had once tangled with her in heated intimacy. Because she had been not only beautiful but also clever, he had liked her; if she wished it, he had even been willing to grant her certain favors.

Yet Louis was genuinely curious as to why she had come at this particular time. As of earlier that day, more than twenty women had shown him clear interest. Because they were merely slaves, Louis had paid them no mind. In his position, he could have them whenever he wished, and for that very reason, if a woman’s charm was mediocre, he easily lost interest.

“What business brings you to me at this hour?”

Despite the cold wording, once spoken aloud his tone carried a certain gentleness as it reached Enika. At the sound of Louis’s voice, she looked on the verge of tears and said, choking up,

“I heard that Dekal is dead. That he died while attacking you, Duke Louis. Is that true?”

Louis found the question unexpected. From her expression, it looked as if she still had lingering feelings over Dekal’s death. Back when they had spent the night together, she had been an ambitious vixen, full of thoughts of taking revenge on her womanizing husband and determined to enjoy her own fate… a bold woman with that sort of air. That was why, even for Louis, who had known many women, she had remained particularly memorable. His assessment of her had not changed: she was a woman far too good for Dekal. Meeting the deep gaze in her eyes, Louis answered slowly and simply.

“Yes. He attacked me. And that day, I killed him.”

Her eyes trembled. Louis had lied. She had asked him for the truth, but he was under no obligation to tell it to her. He thought it enough to tell her only what everyone already knew. Still, she was a clever woman. Louis suspected she might have seen through his heart.

“Did he have any last words?”

Last words, was it. Louis searched his memory, recalling what Dekal had said as he slashed Louis in the side and collapsed to the ground.

“…Enika.”