Chapter 99#
Chaise a la ReineChapter 99#
Lately, the Marquis of La Baille had been feeling, with painful clarity, that he had grown old. In moments like this, facing a young monarch who, with unfaltering gentleness, spoke of a vengeance gone cold, that awareness deepened all the more.
It was not with renewed resolve but rather with weariness that he greeted the looming signs of coming turmoil. Perhaps it was because he no longer had a future to look forward to.
He had long since lost the child who would have inherited his house. He had lost the kin who might have offered comfort in his lonely final years. He had failed to protect the heir to whom he had hoped to pass down the legacy of a lifetime. He had lived, he thought, as best he could, but looking back, nothing seemed to remain.
From the moment he requested a private audience with the Emperor, the Marquis had already made up his mind. And the conversation just moments ago had served only to solidify that resolve. As the interminable meal at last drew to a close and the attendants came to clear the dishes, the Marquis, who had now set aside even his last lingering hesitation, addressed the Emperor with measured calm.
“There is one petition I would present, Your Majesty.”
Emperor Ebroin V, who had just lifted his glass of dessert wine to his lips, raised his golden eyes and looked at him.
“By the late Emperor’s grace, I received my commission and have since devoted my life to the empire’s seas. As a soldier, I rose to the rank of admiral, commanding fleets. What greater honor could there be? And yet, every song must come to its end.”
The plainspoken words lacked the ornamental flourishes courtiers often employed on formal occasions. The Marquis was not a man of letters, after all. But in its simplicity, his speech held a deeper sincerity.
“I believe my time has come. I implore Your Majesty, relieve this old subject of his duty.”
It was an unexpected but earnest request for resignation from a liege who had served the empire for decades. In such cases, unless the liege had committed a grave offense, even the sovereign was bound to observe certain courtesies. But Ebroin V observed no such decorum.
Upon hearing the Marquis’s request, the Emperor withdrew even the gaze he had fixed on him, savoring the wine left in his glass in long silence. As the Marquis waited wordlessly for his sovereign’s leave, an attendant stepped forward at a signal and refilled the Emperor’s cup. The Marquis quietly spoke again.
“Your Majesty.”
But the answer he received was not at all what he had expected. A trace of the haughty ennui that marked the powerful flickered across the young Emperor’s face. He looked coldly at the Marquis, without concealing the disdain that had risen in his eyes.
“How disappointing.”
There may have been no one else in the world who could weaken another man’s heart with nothing more than the faint furrow of a noble brow. The Emperor’s demeanor and reply were wholly unforeseen. The Marquis, shaken by this sudden deviation from what he had believed certain, faltered.
“I… do not understand, Your Majesty…”
“Among all Our high-ranking officials, you are exceptional. That is why, when you came to Us of your own accord, We believed it meant you had arrived at the proper conclusion. Were We mistaken to have such high expectations?”
The Marquis could not comprehend the Emperor’s reaction.
“It may not be the best possible choice, but it is not one I made solely for my own sake.”
“A choice for Our sake, then? Is that truly what you believe?”
“…l cannot fathom YoUr MajeSty’S intentionS.”
ThoUgh he poSSeSSed a Sharp mind, he laCked a gift for improViSation. He waS, in that SenSe, mUCh like EUgene, at heart, a man of Unbending prinCiple.
lt was not until the conclusion of Louise de Dumont’s divorce trial that the Marquis realized the Emperor had begun to keep him in check. Even then, he had not suspected anything unusual about the fact that his own niece had been chosen as the Emperor’s pawn. He had simply assumed that the scandal had arisen by unfortunate coincidence because she had happened to be the mistress of Prince Merrick.
But then, while his relationship with Vice Admiral Chastan, who was summoned to the capital for the trial, began to weaken, the Emperor’s favor shifted to him as if in compensation. Watching this unfold, the Marquis began to suspect another possibility.
That faint doubt became firm conviction thanks to one crucial clue offered by his wife. She, having borne the brunt of public disgrace through Louise’s scandal, confessed a truth he had not known as if lamenting it aloud.
‘All of this started with that wretched literary salon or whatever it is. I never should have let her go to that salon of Countess Bonatienne’s!’ 7TXD9F
The Marquis of La Baille, who had not known the details of his niece’s social activities, only then came to learn that the place where Louise and the Duke of Fernand had first met was at Countess Bonatienne’s literary salon.
His wife, bitter to the core, had blamed Countess Bonatienne’s careless conduct, opening her salon to all without heed for differences in rank, under the pretense of exchanging poetry and literature. But the Marquis of La Baille could not quite shake the suspicion that her resentment might not be mere misdirected blame.
Countess Bonatienne’s maiden name was Falcardi. She was the niece of the Emperor’s swordsmanship teacher, Sir Gromanic, and the older sister of Viscount Dériche, one of the Emperor’s close associates.
“Your Majesty has already acquired Vice Admiral Chastan. Is there still any need for me?”
Though he had long suppressed his discomfort, he could no longer restrain himself. The Marquis of La Baille asked bluntly, vividly recalling the shock and humiliation he had felt upon realizing the Emperor’s intent to push him out of his influence over the Imperial Navy.
The relationship between the nobility and the monarch was fundamentally based on counsel and assistance, consilium et auxilium. After the establishment of an empire in which the Emperor reigned over all nobles, centuries of autocracy under the Ardi dynasty have gradually transformed the lord–vassal dynamic into a more subordinate one. But even now, that foundational premise has not been wholly erased.
If a noble bears the duties of a vassal, then the sovereign is likewise bound to reward such loyalty. No monarch has the right to cast aside a faithful servant in such a manner.
Even so, before a sovereign who had so unilaterally abandoned his own obligations, he had found himself incapable of mounting any resistance. The circumstances left him with little room to defend himself without harm. Above all, the most devastating loss was having forfeited Vice Admiral Chastan, widely respected as the Imperial Navy’s most trusted commander, without so much as a chance to intervene.
Should Vice Admiral Chastan stand with the Emperor and oppose him, the Marquis of La Baille would be forced to face an internal enemy more formidable than any he had ever known. It was precisely for this reason that he had resolved to relinquish all that he had built in the Navy and depart quietly.
He had no children, no heir. The only legacy he could leave to posterity was the Imperial Navy, to which he had devoted his entire life. Rather than watch with his own eyes as all he had built crumbled, the Marquis chose instead to step down and withdraw in silence.
“Vice Admiral Chastan as Admiral of the Fleet? A fine choice, but not yet. Is he not only in his mid-thirties?”
Feigning ignorance of the Marquis’s veiled reproach, the Emperor responded with unaffected composure.
“He is more than capable of fulfilling the role.”
Was it not precisely because of that confidence that Your Majesty felt free to cast aside a loyal official charged with the command of the fleet? The Marquis’s tone sharpened as he reminded the Emperor of that fact.
“We know. What he lacks is not his competence, but his age and renown. He seems to be somewhat known in the western territories, but inland, his name carries no weight, which is a considerable disadvantage. He has put in a lot of effort over the past few months, but his footing is not yet firm. He is better placed now than before, yes, but still a touch too unseasoned to be entrusted with the fleet, would you not say so?”
“Indeed. What Vice Admiral Chastan needed more than anything was time. But Your Majesty took that away from him.”
A few years. Had they been granted just a few more years, everything might have turned out differently.
“The moment Louise bore an heir, Vice Admiral Chastan’s promotion to Admiral was to follow as a matter of course. There would have been no opposition to calling him into the Admiralty at once, for no one could dispute his achievements as a commander. He would have gained firsthand experience in the administration of naval affairs and made a formal entry into the political sphere of the empire. After several steady years of building his career, he would have been fully qualified for the rank of Fleet Admiral. Had it gone that way, Vice Admiral Chastan would have been appointed with an unimpeachable reputation, and I, having laid down all my duties, could have left the service with peace of mind.”
The Marquis of La Baille did not believe the Emperor had been entirely unaware of his plan. Perhaps not every detail, but he must have grasped the broad outline. It was precisely because of that that the Marquis found it so incomprehensible.
“Why, when it could all have ended so smoothly, did Your Majesty act with such haste?”
Even if he had fallen out of favor, there had been no need to rush. Had the Emperor simply waited in silence, all would have unfolded of its own accord.
“Because We could not allow a precedent to be set.”
“A precedent, Your Majesty?”
“You said it yourself, and yet you fail to grasp the meaning. If events had gone according to your plan, who then would have appointed the next Admiral of the Fleet? Would it have been Us or you?”
At the Emperor’s indifferent observation, the Marquis found himself unable to utter a word. The lips that had moments ago so indignantly sought justice froze in place, and the color drained from a face already flushed red with age. A jolt of realization struck the Marquis like a bolt of lightning. He let out a long, heavy sigh.
I overstepped.
The biting critique he had earlier reserved for Duke of Chirac and his cohort now echoed back at him with stinging clarity. He was in no position to judge others. Had he not just spit upon his own face? Without even realizing it, he had been on the verge of committing an even graver overreach.
“We do not deny the merit of your service to the Imperial Navy. But if that merit becomes justification for privatizing the command of the armed forces, how could We, as Emperor, allow such a thing to pass unchallenged?”
The Emperor’s voice remained composed and untroubled. He did not seem to be defending himself so much as calmly articulating a self-evident principle. There was not a tremor in his tone. The Marquis of La Baille found himself at a loss for words.
No matter how strong the influence of the western aristocratic faction within the Navy, matters concerning supreme command were beyond their reach. The appointment of a Fleet Admiral rested solely with the Emperor’s will.
The Imperial House Ardi had, through the ferocious ‘War of the Scepters’, claimed ultimate command over all military forces within the empire. Even the margraves, who were granted the rare privilege of maintaining private troops, had been required to acknowledge this authority in name.
To wield the command of the Imperial Military was to hold one of the Emperor’s most unassailable powers. For a mere subject to meddle in that authority, even if inadvertently, was not simply an encroachment. In the worst case, it might well have been construed as treason.
“…Why did Your Majesty not warn me beforehand?”
Why had he not realized it sooner? Like a man possessed, blind to everything around him, the Marquis had failed to see just how precarious a line he had been treading. As a cold sweat soaked his back, he forced himself to ask.
“We did warn you. That you are standing before Us now is likely a testament to it.”
“……”
The Marquis of La Baille closed his eyes in bitter despair. Only now did the Emperor’s earlier words, “…When you came to Us of your own accord, We believed it meant you had arrived at the proper conclusion.”, truly make sense. His Majesty had been waiting for him to awaken to the truth and come forward in remorse. The Marquis finally understood that this, belated as the realization was, had been a small mercy extended by Ebroin V.
“I request to resign. Please allow it.”
“Not allowed.”
“Your Majesty, I am not fit to bear this grave responsibility.”
“You persist in disappointing Us to the very end.”
He had thought himself the victim of unjust treatment. But in truth, this entire calamity had been of his own making. And yet, unaware of that fact, he had come forward to protest it. The Marquis of La Baille was so mortified that he could not fathom remaining in office. No, beyond personal shame or any human emotion, even from a political standpoint, this was a blunder of serious proportions.
Was he not, now, in possession of a fatal weakness in the eyes of a sovereign who was difficult enough to face even without it? Unlike the shameless Duke of Chirac, he could not bear such disgrace. And so, once again, he submitted his resignation. But the plea was again rejected, as firmly as before.
“Why do you think We went to such trouble to orchestrate all of this, Marquis?”
The question came with a hint of irritation now, lightly scolding in tone.
“If We meant to cut you off, We would have done so long ago. Do you truly think We would have waited for you to come of your own accord? We granted you this opportunity because We still intend to make use of you.”
The Emperor, who had been talking up to that point, raised a hand to his temple as if struck by sudden fatigue and let out a deep sigh. The Marquis of La Baille, face flushed with shame, stood chastened under the rebuke of a sovereign young enough to be his son.
“Now that it has come to this, let us speak frankly. If you were to relinquish the position of Fleet Admiral, merely hypothetically, whom would you propose to succeed you?”
“In terms of competence, the most suitable candidate would be-”
…Vice Admiral Chastan. But having just exchanged such a lengthy discussion about why he could not yet be promoted to Fleet Admiral, the Marquis could not bring himself to name him aloud.