Chapter 8 - The Doubts of the Marquess's Son Kurtfried
Three knights of the Royal Guard arrived at the Marquess's royal capital villa early in the morning. Although they were not wearing helmets, all three were in their mounted attire, clad in armor.
The gatekeeper welcomed the three politely and guided them to the stables. After entrusting their horses, one stayed near the entrance while the other two headed further inside, dispersing without exchanging any particular words. It must have been arranged that way beforehand.
The two who headed inside stopped in front of Ariarein's study.
"Young master, I shall wait here."
"Yeah, thanks."
The older one spoke, and the young knight responded. He was somewhat shorter than the older knight. Neither the thickness of his neck nor the breadth of his hands could match the veteran knight standing next to him. He had short, well-groomed black hair and slanted eyes with gray pupils. Despite his features, the reason he felt more approachable than cold or strict was probably thanks to his expression, which looked like a gentle smile.
Waving off the waiting lady-in-waiting with a hand saying it was fine, the young knight called 'young master' knocked and spoke into the room.
"It is Kurtfried. I have come as summoned, Big Sister."
There was a reply telling him to enter.
When he opened the door, the scribes and his sister—Ariarein—were already working busily inside. Even though the son of their lord had appeared, not a single person stood up to offer a bow. Kurtfried himself didn't seem to mind.
"Big Sister, about this matter, truly—"
Ariarein cut off Kurtfried as he began to speak, saying it was fine.
"Kurt, has the word reached the Mares Knight Corps?"
"Yes. Total evacuation by tomorrow afternoon. Everyone is proceeding with preparations on that schedule. —I heard the Knight Commander and other executives stayed up all night."
"How are the other Knight Corps doing?"
"They're keeping their ears to the ground. Officially, Big Sister, the announcement of your sentence of exile hasn't happened yet."
The Royal Guard was, of course, a knight corps under the direct control of the royal family, but in addition to the direct territories, a corresponding number of people were gathered from the holdings of each noble. This was a measure to ensure close cooperation on the battlefield during emergencies, or to streamline military training and promote interaction among the knights of various territories during peacetime.
The residences of the knights, divided by their place of origin, were called Knight Corps. The Knight Corps of the Marquess Mares territory was second only to that of the royal family's direct territory and was the largest among the noble territory Knight Corps. It was an oversized scale compared to the allocation of the number of knights assigned to each territory. Following the policy of the previous Marquess, the unusually large Knight Corps had been formed by gradually taking over the portions allocated to small and medium-sized nobles.
"What about your preparations?"
"All three of us are ready to leave immediately, Big Sister. We left the orderlies at the Knight Corps. They have their own preparations to make."
"Which means you three haven't slept, have you? I'll have a room prepared, so go rest for a bit. Kurt, I'll have you accompany me in the afternoon. Tell the other two to take turns resting as well—Stuart."
"Yes."
The old butler, who was examining some letters beside Ariarein, responded.
"Give Kurt and the others a room. Wake them at noon."
"As you wish, my lady."
The old butler placed the bundle of letters on the desk, bowed, and left the room with Kurtfried, saying, "This way."
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A carriage was running through the royal capital in the early afternoon. Ariarein and Kurtfried sat facing each other on the seats of the carriage, which swayed slightly.
"By the way, Sister, I didn't ask where we're going."
Kurtfried's tone was not the official one from the morning—as the Marquess's representative—but that of a younger brother to his older sister.
"Saint Rainia Cathedral. I have an appointment to meet the Archbishop there."
The name Ariarein mentioned was that of the oldest and largest church in the royal capital.
"It's not that you're... going into a convent, right, Sister?"
If that were the case, it wouldn't match the story about coming to the Knight Corps, Kurtfried thought, tilting his head.
The church was governed by the church and was separated from secular authority and power. In other words, the effect of a sentence of exile did not extend into the church. Taking the tonsure and obtaining a substantial pardon for one's crimes in exchange for no longer being involved in secular affairs thereafter was a method often used since ancient times.
"Kurt, do you think I'm suited to be a nun?"
"I don't. Because you're my sister; I can't imagine you taking the tonsure."
At the overly frank way of speaking, Ariarein chuckled.
"Show a little restraint, honestly."
"You didn't call me because you wanted restraint or etiquette, did you?"
"Well, that's true too," Ariarein laughed again.
"Sister, are you serious? No, I and the guys at the Knight Corps are motivated, but..."
After laughing for a while, Kurtfried returned to a serious expression and asked in a lowered voice.
"I'm serious. At the very least, right now is a time when I have to show my fangs in earnest."
"Isn't it just that both sides have reached a point where they can't back down?"
"That might be so. However, if we just submissively back away here, the House of the Marquess is finished."
If you stay silent after being insulted, you will be insulted again. If they think that person won't fight back, they will be attacked again.
It was the same for people and for houses. Especially for a house of martial prowess like House Mares—a house whose status was built on military might—what would happen if that chain reaction occurred?
Therefore, if one was insulted, one had to make them understand. That they were an opponent who must not be insulted.
—As a logic, that's probably right.
In his sister, who had made an immediate decision to move the situation this far and seemed to have no intention of stopping even after this, Kurtfried felt he saw something unfathomable.
"What happened to Arveil? In a situation like this, I think he's the subordinate you should keep closest at hand."
At the name Kurtfried mentioned to hide his inner agitation, Ariarein averted her gaze.
"—I sent him down the Mares Road as an official messenger."
"I heard the story that our house and House Brosner were taking on the official messengers for the Government Administration."
Since the official messengers of the Government Administration, which handled the administrative affairs of the kingdom, were essentially the King's messengers, they could pass through any city gate at any time, and of course, their luggage would not be inspected. However, keeping messengers and horses constantly on standby for official business that might arise at any time and in any way required extraordinary preparation and expense.
As communication via documents reached every corner of the kingdom and commerce and distribution flourished, the need for those official messengers expanded rapidly. However, the royal family alone was not prepared to constantly meet that need. Just like the case where the number of scribes themselves was insufficient, the change in the system to match the needs had not caught up.
In the same way she had sent civil officials to the Government Administration, Ariarein was providing some of the personnel and equipment for the official messengers at the expense of the Marquess's house.
"'Do as you please as long as you do not touch the national treasury,' His Highness said. The Government Administration welcomed it, both the dispatch of civil officials and the matter of the official messengers."
The Crown Prince had waved his hand annoyedly to cut off Ariarein's proposal in front of the assembled lords, answering, "Do as you please, provided you do not touch the national treasury." Since then, Ariarein had been doing 'as she pleased.' Regarding the matter of the official messengers, she had also involved Marquess Brosner, who held vast granaries in the western half of the kingdom—partly because she couldn't handle everything west of the royal capital herself.
"Hmm... so he won't even take that away while exiling you."
"He's probably operating on the premise that I'll bow my head and say 'please forgive me,' and in the first place, he doesn't know how deeply we've integrated ourselves."
"And so, the official messenger. I won't ask what kind of thing you're having him do, but was Arveil the right choice?"
"He is—my trump card."
—'My trump card.' Not Father's, not the Marquess house's.
A deep trust that his sister was likely aware of, and something else she might not be aware of.
Kurtfried swallowed the question, Is that okay with you, Sister? Inside the carriage where the conversation had died out, only the regular sound of the wheels echoed.
Because she's my sister (The younger brother's certainty)