Even after Alice finished singing, none of the patrons made any move to leave.
Most of them seemed thoroughly intrigued, lingering to watch how the situation would unfold.
And for good reason: right outside the entrance, the local magistrate was prostrating himself, trembling violently.
This establishment always kept its doors wide open, making the spectacle plainly visible from within.
A magistrate, groveling in the dirt, terrified out of his wits.
A sight so rare you might see it once a year—or perhaps once in a lifetime—greatly stirred the crowd's appetite for drama.
I remained seated, taking slow sips of my tea.
Thanks to the open doorway, the exchange between the groveling magistrate outside and the man at his side—evidently his subordinate—drifted clearly inside.
"I-It's no use... I-I'm done for. Lawrence, do something, please!"
"You must not, Lord Will. Running away after coming this far will only invite further displeasure."
"B-B-But... h-he's the Thirteenth Imperial Prince!"
"Even so, failing to present yourself will only guarantee the worst possible outcome. I will back you up, so come now."
Two voices reached my ears: the magistrate's—presumably the man named Will—loud enough to carry despite his sheer terror; and his subordinate's—the man named Lawrence—speaking in a quiet, steady tone.
It is in adversity that a person's true worth is tested.
While turning that thought over in my mind, Will and Lawrence entered the shop.
Will threw himself onto the floor before me, pressing his forehead against the boards, while Lawrence dropped to both knees three paces behind him, keeping his head raised to look at me.
"P-P-P-Pascal Will b-b-begs an audience with His Highness the Thirteenth Imperial Prince!"
"Pascal Will, is it? So you're the magistrate around here."
"Y-Y-Yes, Your Highness!"
"I don't recall appointing you. Who gave you the post?"
"I-I-I received the appointment directly from His Majesty the Emperor!"
"I see."
Magistrate Pascal Will was terrified to a degree that was almost pitiful.
Crouched on the floor like a frightened animal, he hadn't lifted his head once since stepping inside.
Under Imperial Law, Pascal's offense wasn't particularly severe.
Inviting someone like Alice to sing in a private venue was common practice.
His only transgression was resorting to coercion.
A crime was a crime, but at the absolute harshest, it warranted a one-month pay dock or something along those lines.
There was truly no need for him to be this paralyzed with fear.
"...Pascal. Do you understand what you've done wrong?"
"Y-Yes! I-I-I know it is an unforgivable offense!"
"..."
It's really not that serious.
I let out a sigh, and Pascal flinched violently where he lay curled up.
Sighing again at his reaction, my gaze shifted to Lawrence, kneeling behind him.
Unlike the utterly terrified Pascal, Lawrence had remained composed the entire time.
"Your name was Lawrence, was it not?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Addressed directly, Lawrence bowed his head for the first time.
Then, immediately looking up, he met my gaze squarely.
"My name is Lawrence Barten. I serve as Lord Will's scribe."
"Barten... Is your family from the west?"
"My father is, Your Highness."
"I see."
Neither intimidated nor insolent.
I took a liking to the calm, steady manner in which Lawrence answered.
Come to think of it, he had been giving Pascal sound counsel outside just a moment ago.
"...Pascal."
"Y-Eeek!"
Pascal's voice cracked into a panicked squeak, as if screaming, He's back to me again!
"Draw up a bill of impeachment against yourself."
"Yes, Your Highness!...............Huh?"
Having answered on reflex, Pascal blinked in blank confusion, unable to grasp the command.
Trembling, he cautiously raised his face from the floor for the first time to gauge my expression.
"Impeach... myself? Your Highness?"
"That's right. Detail what you did wrong and what punishment is appropriate. Have it drafted and delivered to my estate by this time tomorrow. We will speak after that."
"..."
"What is it? Or would you prefer I pass judgment right now?"
"Th-That is..."
"We are deeply grateful for your benevolence."
Cutting in before Pascal could dwell on his confusion, Lawrence bowed low, formally accepting the order on his superior's behalf, and escorted Pascal out.
Once the magistrate had gone, the spectators dispersed into the street with excited murmurs.
"Thank you very much."
After the patrons had cleared out and the shopkeeper barred the front entrance, Alice, who had been waiting at a distance, stepped forward.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. Thanks to you, Your Highness. I am always in your debt."
"Good."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
A brief silence settled between us.
Yielding to the quiet lull, I broke it.
"Aren't you going to ask why I made him do that?"
"I simply sing."
Alice answered without a moment's hesitation.
"That is the best way I can repay Your Highness. I do not believe it is my place to pry beyond that."
"I like that about you."
"Since Your Highness commanded it, did you have a deeper intention?"
"Nothing so profound."
Offering that disclaimer, I explained it to her.
"He holds an imperial appointment, clumsy as he may be, and his offense isn't severe. Impeaching himself—in essence, writing a letter of remorse. If it shows he understands what he did wrong, well and good. If he doesn't, I'll punish him then. If it turns out to be nothing but excuses and flattery, he's getting replaced."
"To think you considered that far... Truly magnificent, Your Highness."
"Setting that aside, would you sing another song for me?"
"With pleasure!"
Listening to Alice's voice, I looked forward to seeing how that man would respond.
☆
The following day, in the outer court of my mansion.
Upon arriving at my fief, I had followed imperial tradition and renovated the estate into two distinct sections: an inner court and an outer court.
The inner court served strictly as the private living quarters, accessible only to me, my legal wife Audrey, our maids, and eunuchs.
Modeled after His Majesty the Emperor's inner palace, ordinary men were strictly barred from entering to preserve the purity of the imperial bloodline.
The outer court, on the other hand, housed studies and parlors, serving as the setting for official business and entertaining guests. Naturally, other men were permitted here.
In a study within that outer court, I sat facing Don Oates.
Don had entered my service following that incident three years ago.
I leaned back in my chair while Don stood before me, looking over two documents.
"It turned out just as Your Highness anticipated."
"Indeed."
What Don held were Pascal's "letters of remorse."
Two of them.
One ran along the lines of: Unaware that she enjoyed the Thirteenth Imperial Prince's favor, I committed an act of insolence. I submit to whatever punishment you deem fit.
The other expressed remorse for coercing an unwilling commoner—namely Alice—and offered to accept a salary dock and demotion.
The latter was the official submission, while the former was something I had quietly intercepted.
"I have reviewed official documents from that office many times. The one citing insolence toward Your Highness is in Pascal's own hand, whereas the one regarding coercion of a commoner was penned by Lawrence."
"I see."
"Splendidly deduced, Your Highness. Just as you foresaw, this man Lawrence is remarkably sharp."
"Yeah."
It had played out precisely as expected.
Judging from their reactions yesterday, I anticipated that Pascal would first produce either a plea for his life or something entirely beside the point.
Sure enough, he had.
I had never declared my name during the altercation.
Without a formal introduction, "insolence" toward an imperial prince could not be prosecuted as an offense.
Most likely, Pascal drafted that first, only for Lawrence to intervene and substitute a measured petition for a pay cut and demotion.
It aligned perfectly with what I had deduced from the two of them yesterday.
"And how will you handle the matter?"
"A salary reduction will suffice. It was never a matter of great consequence to begin with."
"Are you certain, Your Highness?"
"Yeah. If he is capable of heeding his subordinate's counsel, that is worth something in itself."
"Such magnanimity—truly admirable."
"Also, could you pay Lawrence a visit?"
"Yes, Your Highness. What are your orders?"
"Deliver this to him."
I retrieved a box from my desk, roughly the size of something held in two hands, and passed it to Don.
"What is this?"
"A box crafted using Huwawa and a portion of the ring. Once locked, no one other than me can open it."
"Pardon...?"
Don tilted his head, wondering why such an item was necessary.
"Lawrence is undeniably the more capable of the two. That is why I'm entrusting him with this—as a direct line to report to me in secret should anything happen."
"I see. For whistleblowing and the like."
"Precisely."
"Brilliant, Your Highness!"
Don looked down at the box with open envy.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, sire. I merely thought what a tremendous honor it must be to receive such a gift."
"An honor, is it?"
I let out a faint, dry chuckle.
"Is it not, Your Highness?"
"No. Look at this."
I reached into the desk and pulled out another box.
It was identical to the one in Don's hands, except this one was battered and broken.
"That is... Did someone attempt to force it open?"
"No. This happened because the recipient went around showing it off."
"Showing it off."
Don repeated the words in a flat, even tone.
"I have Huwawa keep watch over them. If someone fails to use it for its intended purpose—strutting about bragging that they received it from me, boasting of my trust—it is designed to self-destruct on the spot."
"—I see! What an ingenious mechanism... No, what a magnificent philosophy."
"I have no use for people like that, after all."
Don nodded in understanding and excused himself from the study to deliver the box.
I put the ruined box away.
As for those who had betrayed my trust, I could no longer recall their names or their faces.
Would Lawrence prove worthy of it?
I found myself holding out a little hope.