The imperial capital, the Fourth Imperial Prince's residence.
As Henry sat in his study, glaring down at a map of the entire empire spread across his desk, a retainer entered respectfully.
"Lord Henry, the Eighth Prince has arrived."
"Oscar? Show him to the reception room."
"At once."
Having received his orders, the retainer bowed low and backed out of the study without turning around.
Puzzled by Oscar's sudden visit, Henry straightened his clothes, left the study, and headed toward the reception room.
Along the way, another retainer—a maid in her mid-twenties—stood waiting in the corridor to receive instructions.
"No alcohol. Serve tea. Oscar seems fond of it lately, so brew it with the cold spring water stored in the cellar."
"Right away, my lord."
Without breaking stride, Henry tossed the instructions over his shoulder as they passed and briskly continued on to the reception room.
Stepping inside, he found Oscar already admitted, gazing up at a painting adorning the wall.
"Same as ever, I see. Does that catch your eye?"
"Yes. I was just thinking it had a rather sensual touch for something hanging in your residence, Brother. Have your tastes changed?"
"It was a gift. If you want it, feel free to take it with you."
"If anything, my own tastes have shifted. Lately, I find myself drawn entirely to bold, martial compositions."
"Fickle as ever. Has that been true since we were kids? Are you still frequenting Cobalt Street?"
"Right after a major earthquake? Hardly in broad daylight."
"You get timid in the strangest places. Why not take a page out of Dustin's book? When I ran into him the day before yesterday, he said he'd already put down a deposit for a hundred slaves over in Enlil."
"To pull off a stunt like that, it's meaningless unless you started thirty years ago."
"Heh, fair point."
The Fourth Imperial Prince and the Eighth Imperial Prince.
Having now become the supreme authorities overseeing the empire's military and domestic affairs respectively, the two eased into the conversation with casual brotherly banter, smoothing out the atmosphere.
After a moment, Henry cut to the heart of the matter.
"So, what brings you here today? You visiting my residence barely happens once a year. Did something happen?"
"A secret letter arrived from His Majesty—by courier horse."
"A courier horse, you say?"
Henry knitted his brows.
Noah had established wired telegraphy technology using Humbaba thread, achieving transmission speeds so transcendent that no courier horse could ever hope to rival them.
Because of the steep operational costs, it was not yet open to the general public, but Emperor Noah could commandeer it with utmost priority whenever he pleased. Courier horses were effectively obsolete for Noah's correspondence.
If speed was required, wired telegraphy was the only choice; if speed wasn't an issue, standard, leisurely transport would suffice.
Yet it had come by courier horse—a detail that made Henry furrow his brow so deeply that his eyebrows nearly met.
"Here it is."
Oscar presented Noah's personal letter, its seal already broken. Henry accepted it, pulled out the parchment inside, and scanned the contents.
His initial suspicious frown gradually gave way to surprise—and then to utter astonishment.
Having read to the very end, Henry looked up and stared at Oscar, looking as though he had just seen a ghost.
"Demoting himself to... governor-general?"
"That is what it says."
"Is it not a forgery?"
"No, it is unmistakably His Majesty. Upon receiving this, I had Imperial Law scrutinized from top to bottom, and there was not a single clause forbidding the Emperor's demotion."
"...The law."
Henry gasped softly, murmuring the word under his breath.
"Indeed. It is quite typical of His Majesty—strictly adhering to the law while delivering an interpretation that is 'technically not wrong.'"
"Even so, demoting oneself from Emperor ought to be unthinkable."
"Well, that is not entirely true."
Oscar let out a soft chuckle and shrugged.
"What do you mean?"
"Imperial abdication. Between an emperor and a retired emperor, the retired emperor holds a lower status—'legally' speaking, that is."
Hearing Oscar's explanation, the realization struck Henry even harder.
"Naturally, no one actually considers a retired emperor inferior to the reigning emperor, but legally, the rank does drop. Thus, abdicating to become a retired emperor could also be called a demotion, in a manner of speaking."
"I see."
"That said, going from Emperor to a provincial governor-general is on an entirely different plane. His Majesty's ingenuity never ceases to amaze me."
"Yeah. His Majesty truly is something else."
Henry remarked, and Oscar nodded in agreement.
"Even the late Emperor could never have pulled off such a feat."
"And the fact that we find ourselves strangely persuaded by it is quite remarkable in its own right."
"Indeed. It is precisely because both His Majesty and the two of us know his stance toward the law inside and out. For one's self-evaluation to align so perfectly with the assessment of those around him is normally impossible. It is simply extraordinary."
In Noah's absence, Henry and Oscar—his older brothers and his subjects—showered him with boundless praise.
"His Majesty taking the post of governor-general means he'll be wielding a heavy axe. That will require funds, won't it?"
"I will manage somehow. Funds had to be disbursed from the national treasury for the reconstruction anyway. If anything, with His Majesty keeping a watchful eye, there should be far fewer kickbacks than usual, so I intend to seize the moment and go all out."
"Is that so."
Oscar spoke with a smile, and Henry nodded.
Born of the imperial bloodline and entrenched in the empire's inner circles from a young age, neither held naive, idealistic illusions about cleanly eradicating graft and corruption.
Long years of experience and hard-earned knowledge had taught them the harsh realities of governance.
"Well, knowing His Majesty, he will likely pull funds from somewhere other than the national treasury anyway."
"Quite likely."
"Because he is His Majesty, after all."
"In that case... the real concern lies elsewhere."
"Yes."
The two brothers looked at each other and nodded in unison.
"If he leaves the imperial capital as a governor-general, domestic affairs are one thing, but how the surrounding nations will react is another matter entirely."
"An absent Emperor—some will surely take this as their cue to run wild."
"Once they catch wind of this, those petty thieves from Rakshasa will probably start celebrating prematurely."
"And that is where you come in to keep them in line, Brother."
"True, but on paper, this is peacetime. With the authority I currently hold, there's a limit to what I can do. If only His Majesty—"
Knock, knock. A knock sounded at the door.
Cut off mid-sentence, Henry frowned, though he kept his irritation from showing in his voice.
"Enter."
A young man stepped inside.
He was in his early twenties, with lingering traces of youth still visible on his face.
The young man held a folded sheet of paper.
"Pardon the intrusion, Lord Henry. A wired telegraphy dispatch has arrived from His Majesty."
"From His Majesty?"
The sudden news caught them completely off guard.
Not only Henry, but Oscar rose to his feet as well.
"Hand it here."
Henry held out his hand, but the young retainer did not hand over the paper.
"What are you doing? Give it to—"
"I-Imperial command!"
"—?!"
Henry and Oscar were once again taken aback.
Addressing the youth whose voice trembled, clearly unaccustomed to uttering the solemn phrase, the two dropped to one knee in a single, fluid motion despite their shock.
An imperial command—the Emperor was issuing an official decree.
For this fleeting moment, the young retainer stood as the Emperor's personal proxy, formally outranking both imperial princes until the decree was fully delivered.
That was why Henry and Oscar knelt.
"'In recognition of the Fourth Imperial Prince Henry's long years of distinguished service, he is granted an additional annual stipend of five thousand Rien, along with the character Yu.'"
"—?!"
"'Upon delivery of this decree, Imperial Prince Yu shall be vested with full command of the Northern Regional Army—end of decree.'"
"I accept with the utmost gratitude."
Still on bended knee, Henry bowed his head deeply.
He then rose to his feet and accepted the imperial decree from the young retainer.
In turn, the young man dropped to both knees and bowed his head low.
"Congratulations, Lord Henry. Imperial Prince Yu."
"Provide each retainer with one kilogram of meat and one fresh fish. Up to two liters of liquor for anyone who wants it. Get all the celebrating done tonight; things get busy tomorrow."
"Y-Yes, my lord! Thank you very much!"
The young man looked up with joy, bowed once more in deep gratitude, and hurried out of the reception room.
"..."
Henry gazed quietly at the imperial decree for a moment.
Oscar sat back down, a gentle smile gracing his features.
"Congratulations. 'Imperial Prince Yu'—that is certainly straightforward."
"...Which is precisely the point. It's his way of telling me to use this title to hold those Rakshasa bastards down."
"Undoubtedly. His Majesty is truly incredible."
"The reason you didn't receive one—"
"I must not get in Prince Shem's way."
"—That must be it. In that case..."
"In that case?"
"You'll receive yours in due time. Whenever the moment calls for it."
"Haha, quite right."
The brothers shared one last chuckle, praising Noah once more, before setting off to tackle their respective charges over domestic and military affairs.