Chapter 15: The House Head’s Measure

We arrived at our estate and greeted the soldiers, knights, and officer-mages who had been with us for the past two months.

“Lord Anplus. I will never forget the sight of you felling a royal mage.”

“I will train to become a knight like Lord Anplus.”

“If you hadn’t had that big shield, you might not have returned. I’ll be sure to carry one from now on. Contact me if you get some good wine.”

I bowed to each of them in return.

Maybe it was because this was the first mission I had completed cleanly since coming to this world, but I felt good.

We returned to our rooms to wash and change.

We could not report while still bearing the fatigue and traces of the journey on our bodies.

I washed quickly and, towel-wrapping my short tied hair to dry it, a maid spoke up.

“Young Master. You look better than two months ago. Your shoulders look broader, and your gaze looks sharper.”

“Really? That’s good. Seems the mission did me some good.”

“I was worried it might not fit.”

The maid handed me a white shirt.

It was a rather nice shirt made of silk.

“Was this newly tailored? Where did the budget come from to buy something like this?”

“I got a good price for the clothes you had disposed of last time.”

“But was that really enough for this? It’s silk.”

“Silk prices have dropped a lot in the last two months while cotton rose. Thanks to that I could afford to make one.”

There were all sorts of oddities.

I put the shirt on with pleasure and stood before the mirror.

The silk’s unique soft, smooth feel wrapped my upper body.

It was a feeling I had missed.

“Thank you. I’m really surprised.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a better price.”

“No. I’m actually in a great mood right now. I’ll tell you stories of the mission after the report.”

“Yes. Please go.”

I slipped on an old vest and a small uniform over the shirt and followed the servant who waited outside the door.

As we paused before the House Head’s study, Ribelia came toward us from afar.

Dampness still clung to the tips of her black hair.

“Why didn’t you finish drying it?”

“The report… is more urgent.”

When the bell sounded inside the study, the servant who had guided us opened the door.

“It has been two months.”

House Head Argantius called us.

He sat behind his fine ebony desk with a face unchanged.

The display cabinets full of collected curiosities remained as they had filled the room.

Time itself seemed to wait; all that moved was Father’s gaze, waiting.

I pulled out a chair for Ribelia and sat across from the desk.

A satisfied expression flickered at the corner of his mouth.

“You have not forgotten the comportment befitting a knight.”

“I have not yet submitted the mission completion report. Of course, even after completing a mission there are appropriate duties to perform.”

The House Head nodded.

“Very well. Tell me what happened over the two months.”

His eyes were a gray nearly white, burning.

When Ribelia saw that look she drew her shoulders in close.

My sister opened the accord and began her report in a small voice.

“The Imperial Court demanded this border line from our House…”

The report went on for a long time.

The House Head listened, sometimes smiling, sometimes scowling.

“They did not send a pureblood royal mage?” he asked.

“They sent a halfblood by the name Sormanzer, pale with blond hair.”

“Do you think they might claim the agreement never existed because a direct-line member did not appear?”

“…No. The seal was certainly genuine. If I may venture a guess… the Imperial Court is also short-handed or a struggle has begun between direct and branch lines.”

“They made a reckless play. Not only did they send a halfblood royal, they attempted a kidnapping. How did you break free of that crisis?”

“Thanks to Lord Anplus. He struck down the Imperial knight and the halfblood royal and saved me.”

The House Head regarded me with an expression I could not read for a moment.

“Continue.”

“Yes.”

Throughout the report the House Head asked questions here and there.

It seemed he was genuinely curious at times, and at other times probing.

“You said they forced a seal?”

Ribelia bowed at his sharp voice.

I lifted my chin and answered.

“Yes. They did.”

“Have you considered the consequences? If the world learns this was a forced agreement, which House would want to make an agreement with the Intezeruto?”

“It was immediately after the attempted abduction.”

With memories of war I did not yield to his authority and spoke with some indignation.

If they had given more escort guards, the Imperial Court would not have dared. 

Sending just a hundred as a test was their doing.

“There are lines of propriety in the world. If you do not keep that line, you are not a noble of dignity but a rogue who spreads harm.”

Yes, those lines are what make nobles noble.

But—

“The ones who crossed the line first were them. They dared draw their sword in the conference hall and tried to abduct the successor of our House.”

The House Head’s gray eyes fixed on me.

That pressure felt like it would stop my breath.

I swallowed and pressed my trembling legs with both hands before continuing.

“The Imperial officer-mages were about to rain magic down at any moment. They were sea-colored officer-mages, while the officer-mages assigned to us were azure.”

If I made the wrong move, Ribelia and a hundred soldiers would have been in mortal danger.

There was only one way to turn the situation around.

I dared meet his face.

Argantius smiled then.

“Well done.”

“Eh?”

Ribelia echoed in a dazed voice.

“Well done. Both your response in that moment and the answer you give here are excellent.”

“Didn’t you just say one must not cross the line?” Ribelia asked in a timid voice.

Argantius shook his head.

“To protect the line from those who first crossed it is not dignified. And once you decide to cross, you must leap over at once.”

Ribelia nodded.

The House Head looked at me.

“Anplus. Good judgment. I will praise you. You may be glad.”

“Thank you.”

I answered, startled.

I had not imagined such sincere praise would come.

Until a moment ago I had resented him, and now I simply felt… bewildered.

“Is the report finished?”

I nodded, and my sister shook her head.

“On our way there and back there were twenty-five skirmishes. The tax rate for the serfs climbed to ninety percent on the ascended tenants, and the burden on freemen also rose, so it seems large.”

“It could not be helped.”

The House Head replied curtly.

A will that it was not our place to interfere conveyed itself like pressure.

Ribelia trembled but carefully chose her words and spoke on.

“To the young woman’s eyes, it seemed there were regions where the tax collectors were pocketing taxes.”

“No matter what you request from your House Head, they must dedicate themselves. That said, if they suffer even when you did not will it, I thought that was wrong.”

He nodded.

“I will send an investigator.”

“Thank you.”

“Ribelia may leave. Anplus, stay a moment.”

She bit her lip and rose.

“Thank you.”

When she left the room, Argantius opened his desk drawer and took out a letter.

“I received a report of your remarkable exploits.”

“I am honored.”

“You drove off a band of crossbow-wielding thieves, felled a flower-bedecked royal knight, and even a flame mage fell.”

“It was luck.”

“You should be thankful you did not kill them. Quite a competent youth.”

“If I may make one humble remark, I think differently.”

“What do you mean?”

The House Head’s eyes flared.

I took a small breath in.

I had spent ten years bewildered by my previous life, and after struggling I decided to live as a person in this world.

For five years I completely blended into this hierarchical society and convinced myself I was a blue-blood noble only because of memories of a past life.

Just as I fully accepted that, the world abandoned me; I lived three years like a corpse before taking up a sword.

And seeing how the House Head treated my sixteen-year-old sister—my little sister—awoke the ethics of my previous life.

“Ribelia bears expectations and burdens far too heavy for her age. You place a maid on her and pester her instead of easing that burden.”

I spoke to him, watching his face.

Anplus would not have said such things, but as he had said, there were lines.

“If someone is pressed down, someone must relieve them. If everyone presses from all sides, how can the child live with a sound mind?”

At my impassioned words the House Head answered in an indifferent voice.

“If she were my daughter, I would have raised her that way.”

“But she is your daughter.”

“But that child is, before being mine, the heir of this House.”

That statement was a hammer crushing the ethics of my previous life.

I could not bring myself to refute it.

As someone who once sat in that seat, I understood that weight.

“If you become House Head, enemies are on every side. Six great Houses in front, and in the rear the variously ambitious branch families and elders.”

My father spoke as though expounding an eternal truth.

“You must not become dependent on someone.”

“If it continues like this, her spirit will break.”

“Time heals.”

“There are wounds that do not heal.”

I, braving rudeness, retorted.

“For how many years?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you mean it will not heal for years?”

But the man who stood at the pinnacle of this world did not even blink.

“If one year is insufficient, I can wait ten years. If ten are not enough, I can wait a hundred. You did not emerge from your room again until three years had passed, did you not?”

His voice resounded through the quiet room.

Hearing him speak of ten years and a hundred so casually made me suddenly realize I had become someone of another world and another breed.

“Anplus. Do not take time lightly.”

“If you think of that child that way, why did you attempt to remove her?” I persisted, unable to yield.

Yet by the standards of this world it was cruel to send a sixteen-year-old child to a conference between Elector Houses, so I again pressed.

“If she is the sort who will break at such pressure, then it is better to raise a new one. She did not break this time, so you resolved to wait ten years, or a hundred.”

He answered as if it were natural.

“I understand.”

In the end I had no choice but to step back.

“But if you reach out once, know that you can shorten ten years to one, a hundred years to ten.”

Argantius did not shake his head at my words.

He too is driving himself. Ribelia’s words flashed through my head.

A moment of silence fell between us.

“You learned flame magic, I hear.”

He broke that silence.

“Yes. I cannot yet fully reproduce it, but it was the reason I survived.”

“One report does not make me believe you are a knight who can stand against mages.”

“Quite right.”

“But if a sapling thought a mere scrub might become a great tree, passing by to water it once or twice would be permissible.”

The House Head drew a second document from the drawer and thrust it before me.

My signature line was blank, but the seal was already affixed.

[A Request for Increased Maintenance Allowance.]

“Your maid sold the last coat you wore as a child to tailor that shirt. She need not do that again.”

“Thank you.”

Seeing that he even knew such trivial matters, it seemed the walls had eyes and ears.

I accepted the document happily.

It was not an enormous sum, but enough to buy decent clothes to wear at formal gatherings.

“There will be a banquet this evening. It is to celebrate Ribelia’s successful conference. If you wish, attend.”

I bowed deeply.

***

Blue-blooded nobles, who enjoyed long lives and robust vitality, loved to play.

They set up buffets at one side of marble-floored, gem-studded ballrooms and left space on the other side for dancing, indulging in music, wine, and the bodies of the opposite sex.

They assigned taxation to knights and tax collectors, administration to the paler-blooded, and labor to the red-blooded commoners, and celebrated for a year on end for a thousand excuses.

“Lord Anplus and Miss Ribelia are entering!” the steward cried out in a raised voice.

I escorted Ribelia and entered the banquet hall.

Eyes full of curiosity and surprise poured down on us.

“Miss Ribelia is dressed more splendidly than usual today.”

“Lord Anplus? I heard you trained with the sword—have you become a knight?”

“Haven’t you heard? He supposedly felled a halfblood royal and a flower-bedecked knight in the last mission.”

“Hmph. Still, isn’t he just a swordsman? From a noble heir to a lowly running-about knight—how shameful.”

Receiving those glances, I took food onto my plate.

It had been a while since I’d felt such attention.

It felt like being the protagonist again.

Though the looks were less deferential than before, it was still pleasant.

“Young Master Anplus. Or should we now call you Lord?”

“It has been a very long time. Three years.”

“Could you tell us a bit about your encounter with the bandits?”

Young nobles approached me.

‘Is it proper for a knight to enter here?’

‘Wasn’t he supposed to be a mage?’

Some smiled openly while others cursed behind that smile.

I had expected it, so there was no need to bristle.

I smiled in return.

“Shall I prove my bloodline then?”

A young noble with a mustache shook his head flippantly.

I recognized the face from somewhere.

“Oh my, do you intend to blind our eyes? We all know the Young Master is pureblood.”

A powdered-wig noble near him said.

“I was just curious how skilled your swordsmanship must be to enter a mage’s banquet.”

He too was a familiar face.

I felt déjà vu and replied.

“I felled the halfblood royal. I survived against a flame mage as well.”

“Impressive. Were there any officer-mages among them?”

Officer-mages—considering their power, they were still out of reach.

When I did not answer, the powdered-wig noble wore a triumphant smile.

He raised his voice so all nearby nobles could hear.

“I am preparing for the officer-mage examination with my companions. The officer-mage exam has a swordsmanship section—the knightly subject.”

A red-haired noblewoman popped her head over and asked,

“After you finish eating and to help with digestion, would you spar with us?”

At that moment I realized where I had seen them before.

Temeratia frequented the shadowed corner of the training ground most often, but she was not the only one who came.

That powdered-wig fellow was the one who used to say I was no fun because I did not rebel.

“Are you nervous? A knight cannot show his true skill unless he strikes by surprise, can he?”

So you see my face and find it nothing.

“Very well. A spar sounds good. Let’s recall old memories.”

Right—those who struck me before would not remember it.

So now I will forget you.

Let’s see how strong your recovery truly is.