Chapter Nine: The King’s Fleeting Dream
Remember when I talked about that young entrepreneurs’ meeting I had to attend due to social obligations? The one where they immediately head to a cabaret club?
Thinking back now, I feel nostalgic about what a strange world that was. Naked desire for money and connections bragging. And morality with pleasant-sounding words coexisting there without any friction. “Employees come first,” or “The president should be the greatest servant,” or “Never forget daily gratitude.” How should I describe it? Each sentiment is a wonderful mindset, I think. But somehow, my instincts sense the phoniness. That.
I think about where that phoniness comes from.
By some twist of fate, I’m the king of Santeneri. As a king, I respect all my subordinates and want them to fully demonstrate their abilities. So, how far does the scope of “everyone” that I can grasp extend? This is just intuition, but probably up to the wealthy commoner class. That’s probably the limit.
When Braag-san came the other day and I ordered watches, the attitudes of those daughters of great noble families toward him were roughly the same as mine. They recognized Braag-san’s character and treated him politely with proper respect. I thought maybe they just followed suit because I, the king, treated him that way, but as far as I observed, they also pay appropriate respect to the maids and servants in their service. Of course, there are absolute differences in status. But they treat them as fellow human beings.
I, they, my subordinates—we all have roughly the same sensibility. You rarely encounter the arrogant villains depicted in novels. Everyone thinks this way: “We must cherish the people,” “It is the ruler’s duty to protect the people.” Pleasant-sounding morality.
But the “people” that the ruling class of this country—probably the same in any country—including me think about are merely concepts. Right at this very moment, there are probably people dying on the back alleys of the old town. We think that’s pitiful and want to save them. No, I should be more precise. We only wish to save the “concept” of the poor. We cannot understand the reality of them.
Suppose I suddenly awakened to morality one day and impulsively went to those back alleys. And suppose I was lucky enough to meet “pitiful poor people” there. If I spoke with them, would we understand each other? Probably not. To understand them, I’d have to enter their world. That’s impossible.
Nevertheless, acting as if I know them and wielding “concepts”—it’s that posture that makes me sense the phoniness.
Does this man passionately speaking before me now understand this?
Pierre-Ene-en-Aquiane.
A branch family of Lerois, master of the Grand Duchy of Aquiane which possesses vast territory and wealth alongside Gaillou. The head of the Duke Aquiane family, who would have the primary claim to the throne under Santeneri’s succession law if the Lerois family were to end.
A man of enlightened thought, protector of the common people. Does this man called these things understand his own “phoniness”? If he understands it and still acts that way, that’s fine.
But if he’s unaware, then that’s a kind of misfortune.
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“Does Your Majesty know? About those who suffer in poverty daily in this Shtrois and die unnoticed on the roadside? Are they not granted the right to live as human beings?! The lament of mothers at a loss while holding nursing infants. Young men who lost their legs in war and fell to begging. All due to political failures.”
He can speak to me, the king, this way because he’s a relative. And the wine he can drink to his heart’s content is served because he is the Grand Duke of Aquiane.
This wine is delicious. I wonder if they splurged a bit for today’s meal since we have a guest?
“The nobles of this country have lost sight of the true path! We should be protectors of the people. Without the people, there is no king. We should be servants of the state, yet somehow we’ve misunderstood ourselves as masters.”
“I see. Your words are truly reasonable. As expected of Duke Aquiane. A pillar of the state indeed.”
I sip my wine while giving a response that’s neither poison nor medicine. There are people who start speeches when drunk, aren’t there? Though of course some do it sober too.
“Grois-dono is young. There is still so much to learn. Yet you stay cooped up in Palais-Lumiere palace. You should visit the city once. And see it. The misery of those people.”
This Pierre-san is in his late thirties. He may have had a muscular build originally, but at an age when middle-aged weight gain is starting in earnest, his protruding belly can’t be hidden.
I get it. What is that anyway? Is it from drinking too much alcohol? Even though we clearly eat less than when we were young.
“Speaking of the city, Pierre-dono, I heard you acquired a large plot of land in the old town. What will you do with it?”
“Oh, I’m glad you asked! There are heaps of abandoned old mansions in the old town, aren’t there? I’m going to consolidate those and redevelop them. The commoners these days have money, you know. They can’t enjoy refined pleasures like us nobles. So I’m creating a place where they can spend their money.”
“That’s splendid. A great enterprise that could only be accomplished with Duke Aquiane’s financial resources. —It will surely be quite profitable.”
I was getting tired of listening to the speech, so I changed the subject. From high-minded morality to vulgar money-making, flowing seamlessly. This speed of switching is charming, isn’t it? I think it’s a kind of talent.
“Let me tell you, Grois-dono. Well, it’ll be profitable. Land is meaningless unless consolidated on a large scale. Large-scale operations improve efficiency. That’s the secret.”
Indeed. The Aquiane domain was the pioneer of large-scale agricultural management in Santeneri. Seeing Aquiane’s success, many land-holding lords followed that trend to varying degrees. Well, that’s appreciated. Thanks to being able to produce large quantities of grain cheaply, the military is quite helped. Additionally, they sent large numbers of people to the military. The former independent farmers who lost their land.
“When Pierre-dono says so, it has different persuasive power. After all, you’ve produced results.”
Ah, it’s not just the military. The place that supplied people. They sent many to the cities too. They were former farmers. They don’t have the skills to survive in cities. So they’re living on the streets and in abandoned buildings.
“By the way, what did you do with the residents of the old mansions?”
“Residents? There were no such things. I evicted those who were illegally squatting.”
Well, about what I expected. In short, small-scale farmers with old-fashioned high-cost management structures were crushed by big capital, and having lost their place, they flowed into the military and cities. The former are ground up in wars, and the latter are forced to live day-to-day as the urban proletariat.
And I have to manage the bloated military while somehow dealing with the large crowds who aren’t rooted to land and have nothing to protect.
If I reduce the military’s size, the soldiers who’ve lost their place will be cast into the streets. Before long, they’ll blend into the urban proletariat.
A tattered military. Worsening public order. And large numbers of people with nothing to lose. It’s like flicking a lighter in front of a dynamite fuse.
I tend to think critically, but it’s not really the fault of the Grand Duke of Aquiane. He and his ancestors surely didn’t predict such an outcome either. They too did so out of necessity. It just had to become this way. It’s not anyone’s fault in particular.
No, I really hate thinking about this, but the truth is, bad guys do exist.
The poor people that the man before me evicted will die on the streets. Who will they resent as they face death? This Monsieur Pierre? Of course not. They’re criminals who illegally squatted in abandoned buildings, and Monsieur Pierre is a philanthropist who led private soldiers to purify the city. The exhausting thing is, Monsieur Pierre himself and even the evicted poor people think exactly that way.
So then who?
The King, right?
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