Chapter 18
The Empire's history is not that long.
Of course, if you count back to when it was still a kingdom, it's a little longer, but it had only been less than thirty years since it began calling itself an empire.
There were four families that could be called the founding houses that had raised the once-middling little kingdom into the Empire it was today.
The Duke of Bertus's family, House Estriyas, was one of them.
But founding heroes were usually purged if it served to solidify imperial authority.
Duke Bertus was not free from that pressure, either.
And not just the pressure from above.
Recently, the populists and those damn elf bastards had also set him as their target and were biting away at him.
In a situation where a reversal in public opinion was desperately needed.
"Who would've thought that bastard was that crazy."
Duke Bertus's attempt to win over Councilman Asteric, who had led the exposé, and broaden his base of support ended in a miserable failure.
Not only had he put on a thoroughly sour face at the joint press conference they held together,
- From this moment on, I will treat every councilor speaking on behalf of His Majesty the Emperor as a defendant! A defendant, I say! A criminal defendant!
The incident erupted at the regular Diet session.
Right after Councilman Asteric marched into the chamber carrying a bizarre barrel and sternly berated the other councilors.
- The reason I brought this is to punish the people who are stealing this country's property! This is the people's sugar! Receive this gift from the people, and reflect on yourselves! What I'm saying now isn't an insult but the voice of the people!
No one knew how he had even smuggled it into the chamber, but by splattering filth all over the council benches, the situation became extremely serious.
Since it was an act he hadn't given Duke Bertus even a single word of warning about, Bertus himself, who had been shielding Asteric all this time, had no choice but to draw chilly stares as well.
As he recalled that day, he forcibly swallowed down the rage that made his blood boil, along with the unpleasant feeling that the stink of shit still seemed to cling to his clothes.
"Did that writer friend accept the invitation?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Prepare everything. We were the ones who invited him first, after all, so we should show enough sincerity."
That was Duke Bertus checking whether the order he'd given a while ago had been carried out.
Normally, there would be no such thing as a duke personally meeting some lowly novelist of such humble origins.
But after reading up to the latest serialized installment,
Duke Bertus could be certain that what the writer Ulysses was currently writing could not simply be dismissed as fiction.
The profound political subtext hidden beneath every concise description and every line of dialogue.
Just as it could skillfully shake the psyche of someone like Asteric, there was a subtle sense of resistance to the established powers woven through the unfolding story.
Ulysses had the makings of a professional.
A professional in manipulating public opinion and inciting the masses.
In the end, a pretext is something you build up carefully.
For his plan, if such a person served as a front man, it would be easier to win popular support.
Since the novel he was writing continued to enjoy popularity with the public.
If he merely projected his personal story onto the character named Caesar in subtle ways, he could ride that popularity little by little.
Or simply by laying the groundwork for a pretext to attack the Emperor in future developments or in another new work, and stirring up that crazy Asteric again, it would be effective.
"People are, after all, the kind of thing whose usefulness changes depending on how you use them."
Besides.
Count Panto must have pulled some strings, but the mere fact that he was still alive was enough to prove his own competence.
.
.
.
A week later.
Duke Bertus was able to confirm that proof of competence firsthand.
"Waaah! Duke Bertus, it's been a while! Have you been well?"
"……Saint Roseline, have you also been well? When did you come to the Empire?"
"Not long ago. You really haven't changed, Duke."
"People don't change easily once they get old. Come, come, sit down."
He had thought he was just some upstart young man with a bit of writing talent, but to think he had a saintess backing him.
Only then did Duke Bertus feel as if all the pieces had fallen into place.
In that case.
It would be fair to interpret the intent behind the work "A Noble House's Fall and Politics" as concealing the Holy Kingdom's ulterior motive.
Tossing all the schemes and stratagems he'd been turning over in his head into the trash, Duke Bertus changed the direction of his persuasion.
The Holy Kingdom also couldn't exactly be said to be on good terms with the Empire lately, so if he could include that monster saintess in the plan?
Although he couldn't avoid criticism that it was interference in the Empire's internal affairs, he might be able to carry out the plan far more smoothly.
Duke Bertus wore a pleased smile.
* * *
I, the one who came up with the devilish idea of taking Roseline along.
Praise me lavishly.
At first, I had planned to drag Guildford, who had tried to corner me with his devious trick, down with me by using the "if I'm going down, you're coming with me" tactic.
But the moment I faced Roseline, who had once again shown up pretending it was a coincidence, lightning crashed in my head with a boom.
If she was a saintess, she'd naturally be good at playing the figurehead role.
Then if I went with Roseline and handed her over to the duke as a conversation partner, wouldn't I have it ridiculously easy?
My prediction hit the mark exactly.
"Is His Holiness still in good health?"
"Oh, don't even ask. He's grown much frailer these days. At this rate, the pope might change before he even finishes his term. That's not the natural order, though."
"Haha... Saintess, you're still as blunt as ever."
"Is that so? Hmm, lying isn't a good thing, you know?"
As if they were already well acquainted, the duke and the saintess chatted amiably.
I just keep eating.
Delicious.
Really delicious...!
So delicious it makes me want to cry...!
If there hadn't been nutritional supplements in the lab, my body would already have had problems from malnutrition; my diet lately had been that warped.
Bread.
Soup.
And sometimes, meat when I was in a good mood.
Leafy greens?
That's not food.
Anyway, I had been force-feeding myself only the bare minimum needed to survive, with convenient meals like that.
As expected, the ducal household's table was different in every way.
Bread so soft it was on a completely different level from the neighborhood bakery's.
Soup packed with plenty of chunks of meat.
Even a steak cooked perfectly at medium rare!
"Yul? Picky eating isn't good for your health."
"I have a condition that makes me unable to write if I eat vegetarian."
I even got to watch the magic trick of the salad plate in front of me disappearing in an instant.
I savored the time of the happy banquet.
Of course.
"Writer Ulysses. What message is contained in the work you're currently writing?"
"Hmm... maybe that there is no eternal power? Something like that, I guess."
Right now, Caesar's journey was also the process of challenging entrenched power and seizing it.
And in the end, his fate was also to be stabbed through by Brutus.
Could you say that was the theme running through the whole thing?
"There is no... eternal power... haha, hahaha! That's right, that's a very good story."
I didn't know what about my answer he liked so much, but the duke laughed heartily.
Right.
They say laughter brings good fortune.
I smiled back at the duke as well.
.
.
.
After the meal was over.
"There's a lot left. Could I have it boxed up?"
"Boxed up...? The food?"
"Yes. I have family at home."
"Hahaha! Of course. Wait just a moment. I'll have the servants prepare a fresh set instead."
Wow.
That's class?
Mom! When I grow up, I want to be a duke!
Or a revolutionary who stabs a pike into a duke!
There was still a mountain of food untouched on the table, and they were going to throw it all away and prepare a new meal from scratch.
Works for me.
We'd only been living together for a short while, but I also thought of Histoire, who always complained about meals while grumbling, "Kim Yul, this isn't food. It's just a lump of nutrients."
After taking stock, I planned to put anything that could keep for a while into the fridge and microwave it over and over later.
Now that's living on the cheap.
I politely bowed to the duke, who was slipping into the mansion, and finished my final farewell.
"Kim Yul. You're a bit more shameless than I expected, aren't you?"
"Shameless? Me? Please, call it overflowing with survival instincts."
The saintess must have been raised in luxury and pampered, because she wore an expression that suggested she didn't understand the hardships of someone living alone.
If you're going to make that face, pay up.
Well...
I decided to let it slide today.
"I asked you on such short notice, so thank you for accompanying me."
"Ahaha! It's fine, I had a very enjoyable time too! It was nice to see Duke Bertus, who's still as shameless as ever and probably swallowed a few snakes whole!"
……?
Until just a moment ago, weren't you laughing and chatting so warmly and cheerfully, and now you're suddenly launching a surprise attack here?
I put about a centimeter of distance between Roseline and me.
What kind of abuse is that to the benefactor who gave you money and fed you a meal?
* * *
"Haha, hahaha!"
In the study, after even the servants had left their posts.
Duke Bertus laughed heartily for a long time.
A big catch.
He'd achieved results far beyond his initial expectations.
- There is no eternal power? Something like that, I guess.
A sign that even if disputes over power arose within the Empire, they could be regarded as only natural.
And.
- There's a lot left. Could I have it boxed up?
- Yes. I have family at home.
It was an implication that there was a larger force backing him, and through metaphor he had even requested funds for political maneuvering.
The saintess kept hiding barbs in her words.
It bothered him a little that she was subtly voicing opinions that seemed to criticize him.
From bringing the saintess along to the ease with which he left the conversation to her and calmly enjoyed his meal.
It must have been a high-ranking figure from the Holy Kingdom who had infiltrated the Empire while hiding their identity.
No, it had to be.
Despite his black hair and black eyes, which were usually met with disdain, the saintess's gaze toward him instead held warmth.
Even when he made that childish fuss about not wanting vegetable dishes, she offered no objection and even neatly cleared away the dishes around his table.
And most decisively, the saintess had even called him by the nickname Yul instead of Ulysses.
There was no room for doubt.
"The goddess is smiling upon me."
Duke Bertus poured wine into his glass and rolled it across his tongue as if savoring it.
It seemed he would be able to sleep very soundly tonight.
* * *
"Damn."
Why is a food basket this heavy?
You'd think there was a lump of gold under the basket.
Anyway, after parting with the saintess.
I hurried home with both hands full of food.
Histoire will like this, right?
While devising sixty-seven ways to train someone with food, the moment I entered the first-floor common lounge of the recently moved-in apartment complex.
"As expected, unlike some uncivilized and unenlightened human, you're a superior dragon with an eye for literature. Now then, Es-chan, please read this one too."
"Kya-reek, kya-rreek!"
At the strange sight spread out before my eyes, I was momentarily at a loss for words.
Why is that bratty little dragon here?
Why is it sitting on our tin can's lap?