Chapter 100#

Chaise a la ReineChapter 100#

“In terms of capability, the most suitable candidate would be-”

…Vice Admiral Chastan. But having just exchanged such a lengthy discussion about why he could not yet be elevated to Fleet Admiral, the Marquis could not bring himself to name him aloud.

“It is not a question of his capability, but of qualification, is it not? Even if it is mere formality, certain appearances must still be maintained.”

When the Marquis hesitated to name anyone outright, the Emperor, having grasped the situation, cut him off in irritation. When, exactly, was the man supposed to find a woman and father a child? That part hardly seemed relevant now, yet the Emperor revealed an excessive displeasure over that very point, as though inexplicably disgusted by it.

“How about Admiral Balboa?”

“Is his mother not from the Confederation of Five Nations? We heard there was quite a bit of opposition to his promotion to Admiral.”

Admiral Balboa was a man of great competence, but his birth was mired in suspicion. Rumors had spread that his mother was not truly a noblewoman from the Confederation of Five Nations, but rather the daughter of a pirate captain. The problem was that the Imperial Navy regarded both pirates and the Confederation of Five Nations as principal enemies. In that sense, he was effectively of mixed blood with a hostile power.

“It would be one thing if that were all, but We hear he has an inferiority complex about his origins and often overreaches to distinguish himself, to the point of endangering his entire fleet. He has not made any grave errors yet, but such a tendency can hardly be called desirable in a commanding officer.”

“If he is unfit, then there is still Admiral Sentallien.”

“There may not have been a formal trial, but there were still allegations of cruel treatment, were there not?”

The fact that his alleged victims were not enemy prisoners but his own men left no room for reconsideration, the Emperor said, dismissing the idea outright. The Marquis of La Baille, who shared the Emperor’s stance on that point, nodded and moved on to the next.

“Lastly, there is the Chief of Staff, Viscount Deluan. His status is clean, and he is an exceptionally capable man.”

“But he is also deeply ambitious. Rare among naval men, the scale of his corruption is quite significant. Are you aware that most of the misconduct involving naval supply contracts passes through him? We had always wondered whether you were simply turning a blind eye, or genuinely ignorant of it.”

Each time he brought up a name, the Emperor responded with an immediate assessment and dismissed them one by one. The Marquis listened in mounting surprise to the piercing precision of the Emperor’s analysis.

I had expected as much, given his meticulous nature… but I never imagined it would be to this extent.

To his astonishment, Ebroin V saw straight through the inner workings of the Admiralty as if reading the lines on his own palm. Given how detached the Navy’s sphere of activity was from the inland capital and how seldom its internal matters leaked outside, this degree of awareness was all the more telling.

“When we changed the prize reward system so that naval prize money was handled by external agents rather than internally, several families lost the hereditary posts they had held for generations. There was considerable resistance during the revision of the regulations, but the corruption among the hereditary prize clerks had grown too severe to ignore. Some of those displaced formed an alliance with Viscount Deluan. I am aware of that. But had I tried to suppress even that, the resulting backlash would have been even greater so I had accepted it as a necessary cost.”

“…It is plain now why We mean to give you another chance, precisely because you have such subordinates.”

The Marquis of La Baille paused and looked at the Emperor. Ebroin V reached for the wine glass he had left untouched, speaking softly.

“People often make the mistake of thinking that minor faults and misdeeds are decisive in evaluating others. But everyone has their flaws. What truly matters is whether someone remains useful despite them. It is said that interest commands the sovereign. Did you truly believe Our leniency toward you sprang from any pure sense of mercy?”

What had begUn aS an Unplanned confrontation now reached a diSheartening conclUSion. One by one, the MarqUiS had weighed hiS optionS, and trUly, there waS no one left. No wonder he had once Skipped over all hiS cloSe aideS to caSt hiS hopeS on Vice Admiral ChaStan, far off aS he waS.

He now saw clearly that it was not mercy but need that kept the Emperor from discarding him. Ebroin V was a man terrifyingly driven by pragmatism, one capable of setting aside even his sovereign dignity for the sake of necessity. lt was admirable, perhaps, or thoroughly ruthless.

“So what Your Majesty grants me is not forgiveness, but a temporary reprieve.”

“Whether it remains temporary or becomes long-term, that depends on you.”

“Does Your Majesty wish for me to buy time for Vice Admiral Chastan?”

In the end, it had come to this, just as he feared. His weakness was already being used as a leash to control him. The Marquis sighed inwardly and asked how long this period of reprieve would last. Hearing this, Ebroin V tilted his head slightly and regarded him with a sidelong glance.

“Vice Admiral Chastan… You do seem overly concerned with him.”

Though he was a man who, when necessary, did not hesitate to commit acts tantamount to treason, he showed an unexpectedly sensitive reaction in an unusual matter. Marquis La Baille almost retorted that it was rather the Emperor himself who was overly sensitive in strange ways, but he held back with difficulty.

“Is he not a man worthy of Your Majesty’s interest?”

“But your concern for him is not solely out of regard for talent, is it?”

“I do not understand what Your Majesty implies.”

“In all your decades of military service, you have committed no notable errors. That alone speaks to what an excellent administrator you are. One need look no further than the case of Vice Admiral Chastan. A penniless scion of a fallen noble house with no background or wealth, yet he rose purely on ability. That alone is proof that the Navy has been run with transparency and fairness under your leadership. You outlawed the sale of officer commissions, restructured the prize system to incentivize merit, introduced a clear system of evaluation and disciplinary action… These were bold reforms, possible only in the Navy, where the web of interests is less entangled than in the Army, but the results have been remarkable.”

He looked at the Marquis of La Baille with his deep, brooding eyes and clicked his tongue softly.

“Knowing the man you usually are, this lapse in judgment is almost unbelievable. What could have narrowed your vision so? Had We not guessed the reason, We might not have forgiven you even out of necessity.”

As if casting off a lingering hesitation, the Emperor’s gaze shifted, and he flicked his fingers to summon an attendant. The waiting attendant approached, and the Emperor gave him a few quiet instructions. With a bow, the attendant exited the room.

Marquis La Baille could not help but feel tense at the Emperor’s strangely serious demeanor. Wondering if he had once again made some mistake, he carefully reviewed his words and actions in his mind, but found nothing amiss.

Not long after, the attendant returned from the adjoining room, carrying on a tray a bundle wrapped in a handkerchief along with a small, heavily worn book. The Emperor nodded, silently ordering it to be placed before the Marquis.

“What is this?”

“You insisted on bringing in Vice Admiral Chastan, an outsider, even going so far as to marry your own niece to him. Your house does have an heir, of course, a direct blood successor, yet you chose otherwise. We have always found that troubling.”

Though the Marquis’s only son had died young, the family was not entirely without heirs. As a high-ranking noble house, the La Baille line still had living direct descendants, albeit few.

“Your Majesty?”

“Your young child died early, did he not? Seventeen, was it?”

“My child passed from illness.”

“So We have heard. After his death, the heir was said to be your younger half-brother. We believe they were close in age, just a few years apart, and even attended university together despite being uncle and nephew.”

“I do not understand why we are having this conversation all of a sudden.”

“Examine these items. You will understand soon enough.”

The Marquis of La Baille felt troubled. Though he tried to steel himself, the Emperor’s subtle implication unsettled him entirely. Surely not…? Could these be the very things he had searched for so long?

He stared intently at the objects on the silver tray, objects he had long sought even in his dreams, yet never dared touch easily. Was this truly what he had been looking for? Or was he once again being deceived by the cunning Emperor?

After a long moment of hesitation, La Bayeux finally steeled his nerves and carefully unfolded the linen cloth with trembling fingers. Beneath the disheveled fabric lay a brooch.

“Where did Your Majesty find this?”

The brooch was lavishly adorned: a ruby at its center, surrounded by intertwined bands of gold and silver, with exquisitely delicate engraving on the gold plates in between. Naturally, the Marquis knew exactly whose it was.

“Do you know of the investigation We commissioned regarding Louise de Dumont? The special task force is currently scouring the back alleys for any trace of the assassin. Recently, they recovered this item. Are you familiar with the term ‘mousetrap’?”

“No. Is that some sort of slang?”

Surely the Emperor was not asking for the literal definition. Ebroin V simply nodded and continued.

“It is a term used among the Surmulots, meaning ‘the client’s weakness.’ We have learned that they habitually steal and secretly hide items that might serve as leverage against a client when undertaking a suspicious commission. Presumably, it is to keep their own backs covered.”

“Your Majesty means this object was the ‘mousetrap’.”

“At the very least, it is no ordinary stolen good. It clearly carries a troubling history. If it had been lost openly, the rumors would surely have spread.”

The Marquis of La Baille knew this to be true. This brooch had been a keepsake his elderly father had bequeathed to his younger brother in his final days. It was not quite a family heirloom, but held more than ordinary value, as their father, fearing he would not live to see his youngest son come of age, had commissioned it in advance as a coming-of-age gift and passed it on personally from his deathbed.

But the Marquis had never heard that his brother had lost this precious brooch. He checked the small book beside it as well. Upon turning the first page, he recognized the handwriting immediately: the jagged scrawl of dates was painfully familiar.

It was the handwriting of a son he had not seen for so long. The diary he had believed lost forever. The Marquis of La Baille traced the familiar writing he had longed for with a tender touch, holding back his words for a long moment. The torment etched across his face could almost be mistaken for fury, yet at the same time, it looked steeped in remorse.

He stared blankly at the diary with eyes that seemed unsure whether they were weeping or smiling, and then suddenly asked the Emperor a question.

“I wish to meet the person who kept these items. May I see him in person?”

“Of course. We will instruct Baron Bouilhet to prepare accordingly.”

Ebroin V accepted his request calmly. The Marquis closed his wrinkled eyes tight as if burned, his gaze burning with grief. Though his son would never return to life, at least now he would know the truth. Whatever the Emperor’s motives, this was an incomparable kindness from his perspective.

“It seems that I was thinking of the boy all day long for a reason. I owe Your Majesty a debt I cannot repay.”

The Marquis barely managed to express his gratitude with his voice trembling at the edges from inner turmoil. The Emperor shook his head with a bitter smile at the sincere gratitude expressed by the old official.

“Spare Us the gratitude. It was merely to pay off a debt. Not an act of pure goodwill.”

The Marquis of La Baille was not unaware of this fact. He was not naive enough to believe it to be a mere coincidence that the Emperor had come into possession of evidence regarding his son’s death, at this particular time, no less, and with such impeccable timing. Considering the Emperor’s calculating nature, it seemed far more likely that he had secured this evidence long ago.

He had likely been holding on to this evidence, waiting for the right moment to trade it. But for the Marquis of La Baille, who, despite faint suspicions, had for years been left paralyzed by a lack of concrete proof, with nothing but scattered, inconclusive clues, the mere fact of finally learning the truth mattered more than anything else.

“No, it matters not at all. As a parent, Your Majesty surely understands my feelings.”

The Marquis bowed once more in sincere gratitude and took his leave. The brooch was shoved carelessly into his pocket, but he held his son’s diary carefully to his chest.

Though he had planned it all, once it was done, the aftertaste was bitter. The Emperor watched the Marquis’s departing figure with a sullen expression, then slowly drained his wine glass. The bitter scent of the wine moistened his parched mouth, but the unpleasant feeling refused to lift. Sometimes, even he grew weary of his own methods.

Today was such a day.