The Hero's Triumphal Return

The triumphal march, with Herman Ernst riding at its head, came to a splendid close.

He had turned down the carriage the imperial household offered and rode on horseback instead, shoulder to shoulder with his fleet-men. The choice laid bare his conviction: rather than hoard the glory, he meant to savor it as an equal among the men who had suffered beside him.

The white of the fleet-men’s uniforms against their dark-brown horses made a spectacle all its own, glittering in the sunlight, immaculate and dignified at once.

And the man who stood out most in that procession was, beyond any question, Herman. His gaze held more than the joy of a triumphant return; there was a deep resolve in it, a sense of purpose. Each time he glanced about, the eyes around him turned to him on instinct. His presence overwhelmed. He was not merely the center of the procession but something like a symbol, enfolding the whole of the empire. Strange, that even from a distance my eyes kept finding only him.

“!”

It happened in that very moment.

…I could have sworn our eyes just met.

Herman’s eyes were fixed precisely on me. For a moment I wondered if it was chance, but he would not look away for anything.

Ought I to give him a wave, at least?

In the end I could not hold out against his gaze; before I knew it, I had raised my hand to him. And for an instant, a faint smile seemed to catch at the corner of his mouth.

After that, Herman and his corps delivered their homecoming report in Grace Hall, packed to the walls with the central nobility and high officials.

“In the depths of a despair that all with one voice called impossible, the merit of the Supreme Commander of the Navy — who sailed out to sea himself and broke the enemy fleet — is resplendent indeed.”

The Emperor paused a moment, as though steeped in feeling, then took up his tribute again.

“With dazzling courage and matchless command, he not only held Balter’s territorial waters firm but severed the enemy’s supply lines, delivering a great victory none had dared imagine. Were it not for the Supreme Commander and his loyal corps, the imperial glory we enjoy this day could never have come to be.”

Castro III went on praising Herman’s deeds without pause.

“And so I command that Herman Ernst, as of this day, step down from the office of Supreme Commander of the Navy and rise to the great seat of Grand Admiral — the very symbol of the Imperial Navy. The imperial house and every subject of the empire do solemnly promise to remember your dazzling achievements and unwavering loyalty, and to honor them for all time.”

Where the Supreme Commander of the Navy held actual command of the fleet, the Grand Admiral was an honorary post, the navy’s symbolic military leader. For Herman, who must now turn his attention to his house, no retirement could have been more glorious.

“Furthermore, the sacrifice and devotion Herman Ernst has borne are already graven deep upon the imperial house and its people. Even in the jaws of death you never once forsook the soldiers of the empire, and that noble will made the impossible possible. To honor your great achievement, then, I bestow upon you the Grand Order of the Empire of Balter — the most exalted honor the empire can confer.”

Until the medal was conferred, a tacit assent had hung over Grace Hall. Every honor so far was one Herman Ernst had earned.

But the Emperor’s next words drew a tense silence over the hall.

“Lastly, you have placed the empire’s welfare above the interests of your house and your own person, and so embodied the true duty of a noble in your own conduct. This shall stand as a model to every noble and be handed down through the ages. Therefore, in answer to your unchanging loyalty, the imperial house shall entrust to you the exclusive rights to the railway enterprise linking the empire’s west and east.”

The Empire of Balter had a railway joining north and south, but none linking east and west.

Rumors had gone round that an east-west railway enterprise might soon get under way — but who would have dreamed His Majesty would hand down a decision like this.

The empire’s railway venture was coveted not only by the nobility but by the rising bourgeoisie as well, and not one of them could hide the dismay on their faces.

They say even one foot in the railway business turns a profit enough to fan yourself with banknotes.

That was the formula fixed in the minds of Balter’s upper crust. And now full authority over that railway was to fall to Herman Ernst, of all people. It would be only a matter of time before Duke Ernst amassed wealth enough to build a castle out of money.

“To be shown such undeserved praise and grace, I am humbled beyond all words.”

Standing before the Emperor, Herman bowed his head in a clean, straight line.

“To have borne so grave an office in Your Majesty’s trust was honor enough in itself. As a duke of Balter, I solemnly swear that from this day forward I shall devote all my powers to the glory of Your Majesty and the empire.”

The instant he finished, thunderous applause broke out, sudden and sharp, marking the resurgence of House Ernst.

And within it, the soundless war went on.

Every eye in the hall turned as one toward a single point. Toward Duke Ernst, to be precise, newly entrusted with the monopoly over the largest railway enterprise in the empire.

The triumphal banquet was held in Lumen Hall, on the floor below Grace Hall.

“Honored guests, your attention, if you please. The noble lord of House Ernst, Duke Herman Ernst, and Duchess Gloria Ernst, now make their entrance.”

At the attendant’s cry, the doors swung open, their panels beautifully engraved with the founding emperor’s last decisive battle for Balter.

Every noble and high official in Lumen Hall fixed their attention on us. Beneath the soft drift of antique banquet music, a discreet murmuring spread into every corner of the hall.

I had expected it, and yet…

Women hid their mouths behind fans, whispering to those beside them. Gentlemen stood with arms folded, glancing from Herman to me and back again. Familiar faces, all of them, and every one watching me with less than kindly eyes.

Under a hostility I had never felt before, my whole body went rigid. The slightest shift of my eyes, it seemed, would hand them a pretext to revile me.

“Gloria.”

In that moment Herman called to me, low and grave.

“Head up.”

At the words, delivered like a command, I looked at him as though under a spell.

“So long as you are an Ernst, these are people who pose no threat to you at all.”

It seemed I was not the only one aware of the stares; Herman felt them too. Absurd as it was, one look at the firm line of his profile and my tension melted away at once. Whether it was a kindness meant to keep me from shrinking, or simply his pride in his house, I could not tell. Either way, his self-assurance did wonders for straightening my spine.

“Which is precisely why they’d like to strip the ‘Ernst’ from the end of my name.”

Among the guests, the nobles with daughters of marriageable age were sending Herman especially ardent looks.

“What are they, even, to matter.”
“…Are you asking because you truly don’t know?”
“No. I don’t.”

Herman wore the face of a man who genuinely had no idea. I stared at him a while, then spoke as if to sound him out.

“They’re hoping you’ll divorce. Not just them — everyone in Balter.”

Herman cast a narrow-eyed glance their way, then spoke in a voice of pure disbelief.

“There is no divorce in my life.”

His certainty left no room for doubt.

In his situation, most men would have chosen divorce without a moment’s hesitation. I was, after all, a wife rumored throughout society to be mad. Worse still, a wife tangled in a disgraceful scandal, who had squandered the whole of the house’s fortune besides. In a neighboring kingdom, a queen had once been framed for crimes she never committed and put to death. All for the sake of a divorce. Which was to say a marriage was a thing shaken endlessly by circumstance and condition.

“…How can you be so certain?”

I could not help but ask. I wanted to know his reason for declaring, so flatly, that he would never divorce.

“There’s no such thing as success or failure in marriage, or so I’ve heard.”

Herman answered without so much as a pause to think.

“Only an endless process of coming to fit one another, they say.”

I thought it an unduly narrow view, an arrogant certainty. For the truth stood right there before his eyes: a woman who had failed at marriage.