Chapter 12: The Dark lord and the Froisbourg House
Shelving all remaining official duties, Seneschal Marquis Froisbourg hurried back to his estate. He gathered his wife, sons, vassals in the hall. And his eldest daughter as well.
This is a matter for the Froisbourg house, and her matter as well.
Marcel was born as the second son of the prestigious Froisburg Marquis family, a hereditary noble house that had produced many stewards for the Lerois family. Following his elder brother’s early death, he, the son of a concubine, inherited the family headship. As he matured, he plunged into the world of politics—the traditional occupation of the Froisburg house—and subsequently held important posts in due course. He became Seneschal succeeding his father during the final years of the previous king’s reign.
The king, who had been full of vitality in his youth, had become thoroughly subdued in his later years. With political setbacks compounded by physical ailments, he rarely involved himself in governmental affairs anymore. The crown prince was not yet of age and could not fulfill the duties of regent. Therefore, during this period, it was he, Marcel, who effectively governed Santeneri.
As the Lerois family’s chief steward and Seneschal of the Kingdom of Santeneri, he had expectations for the crown prince. Though he was rough around the edges and tended to take reality lightly, he was, after all, still a teenager. Marcel thought those shortcomings would disappear with maturity.
The crown prince possessed “vitality.” For him, who had witnessed Grois XII’s lethargy up close, that single quality alone was enough to outweigh other defects and warrant his expectations.
The king passed away, and a new king ascended.
Grois XIII.
The year that followed did not go well. The new king went somewhat too far.
His intention to rule personally was apparent early on. However, unlike the old days when royal authority covered only northern Santeneri, the current kingdom was one of the great powers on the central continent, encompassing all of Santeneri plus overseas colonies. It was impossible for one person to handle every problem that arose there alone. Information is collected and processed, judgments are made, and several “drafts” are brought forward, based on which the king selects one while consulting with his ministers’ opinions. Modern “personal rule” is supposed to be something like that. Marcel initially assumed that the form Grois sought would naturally be something similar.
And then a discrepancy arose. What Grois sought was intervention from the “draft” stage itself, and the ministers’ opinions were not required. Rather, the king regarded them as impurities.
First, there existed what the king determined “reality should be like,” and without going through the ministers’ deliberations, it became “something that should be realized” and was put into action. Naturally, the king’s ideal could not function.
Marcel fulfilled the truly important duty among the Seneschal’s responsibilities. Remonstration. Naturally, the king did not accept him. He impassively accepted his suspension from service. Eventually, he was dismissed from his post. That was fine.
During those days of resignation, the king’s illness suddenly occurred.
The king was a rare only child in recent years. If he passed away without leaving an heir, the royal line would pass to a collateral branch. To the Grand Duke of Aquiane’s house.
That would be that. It wasn’t abandonment. Marcel simply accepted the situation as a matter of fact. Having thrown himself into the world of politics for thirty years, he had learned through various experiences that there was something humans could not control, something that could be called “fate.”
When the king recovered and a summons was issued to him, he also accepted that as “fate.” He would be dismissed from the Seneschal’s post and declared retired. Or perhaps a slightly harsher fate awaited him.
Those who resented him for occupying the seat of power for so long were not few. As is common for politicians, there were actions that could not be called entirely clean. Under the king who disliked him, his political enemies could surely engage in various machinations.
On the way to the Palais-Lumière, the Palace of Light, he thought of the family he had left at the estate. He might be detained and subjected to refined persuasion to confess his crimes. Probably it would end with his life alone. But what if it didn’t?
He had two wives, a legal wife and a concubine. No, had. His legal wife bore a daughter, his concubine bore sons.
His legal wife, who had married from another hereditary count family like the Froisburg house, was frail and lost her life during childbirth. The concubine was the daughter of a baron family and had been the legal wife’s maid. She was the woman his legal wife had recommended to him, worried about her own frailty.
After losing his legal wife, he never welcomed a new woman to that position. This was unusual for one of the kingdom’s most prominent nobles. The woman who became his sole wife raised Braune together with the sons she had borne. For Braune, she was a stepmother. He had initially felt uneasy about that situation, but eventually it was resolved.
To the concubine, Braune was the reincarnation of “the young lady” and also a daughter. That’s what she was to her. The keepsake of a friend who had transcended social position. His wife lovingly raised Braune. So that she would be a fine lady who could be presented anywhere without shame. So that she would be the princess of the glorious Froisburg house, the keepsake of her friend, and her own daughter.
When they reunited for the first time in months in the office, the king’s demeanor completely betrayed his expectations. The king sincerely apologized for his previous cold treatment and requested to know the kingdom’s current state “from Marcel’s perspective.” He even pleaded with him, who tried to demur ceremoniously. He took his hand and even said, “I need your help.” Words a king should not speak. But they were sincere. Though confused by the king’s astonishing transformation, he promised his cooperation.
He returned as the linchpin of governmental affairs in Santeneri. The peace treaty with Estvilg, which had been secretly proposed, was also decided without much resistance. The reduction and reform of the army and navy, the gradual dissolution of the royal guard. These were also readily decided. Negotiations with the relevant parties were taxing, but once settled, the king would not stop them.
“If everyone’s deliberations have been exhausted, then I understand them and command you all to act accordingly.”
Matters were decided by the king’s words.
Marcel initially rejoiced at Grois’s understanding, but gradually came to feel discomfort with his sovereign’s attitude. If the king were incompetent and simply did as his ministers told him, that would be fine. The raison d’être of ministers is to compensate for the king’s deficiencies.
Grois XIII, this twenty-year-old young man, the youth who until just recently had enthusiastically spun fantasies, now sits on his throne like an ornament, merely silent. Occasionally he looks at his pocket watch in his hand with apparent boredom. However, when the official meetings end and individual conferences begin, his attitude changes completely. The king fires sharp questions in rapid succession. From the content of his questions, it became clear that the king understood the situation and sometimes even thought ahead of his ministers.
—His Majesty is wise.
That was something to rejoice about. But it was also dangerous. An absolute ruler who understands everything yet says nothing and simply observes his ministers’ movements. There is nothing more frightening than a Dark Lord like that.
He sometimes even felt as if every gesture and action was being graded. A Seneschal approaching fifty years of age, by a young man thirty years his junior.
—And he does not trust his ministers.
The king’s actions superficially appeared to come from complete trust in his ministers. Yet the complete opposite impression emerged. His clever colleagues all more or less shared this mutual suspicion.
The kingdom’s important posts, with the Seneschal’s position at the forefront, were coveted seats. Many wanted to sit in them. Marcel himself had obtained it after a long and fierce struggle. He understood well that there were still many in the palace who aimed for the position he occupied. However, he no longer cared about the movements of these political enemies.
This seat is very uncomfortable. If someone wants to replace him, he could yield it. He had come to think that way.
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When Marcel finished relating the outline of the “trivial incident” that occurred today, all the Froisburg children uniformly turned pale.
The mere fact that the king had been attacked was a nightmare. Horrifying. Our king’s sacred body had been harmed. Nevertheless, their father and even the victim, the king himself, were trying to make it “as if it never happened.” High treason should be answered with capital punishment.
The brothers who had been studying politics to succeed their father could barely understand the meaning of what their father and the king were trying to do. Though their emotions couldn’t keep up. But they couldn’t understand the development from there. Why was their father trying to take “responsibility” at the risk of his life and even at the sacrifice of the family?
“His Majesty Grois is a good person. And an extremely wise person. No matter what I proposed, you would not have been granted death.”
Marcel told his wife and children, and his principal retainers. He thought that in the worst case, only he would die. Grois XIII was an unfathomable king but did not like to stir up trouble unnecessarily. That much he understood. The granted death would not be by official punishment but in the form of being offered a poisoned cup at the mansion. There would be no “official” stain on his sons’ and daughter’s careers. He would be processed as having died of illness. That’s how he initially read it.
After all, the king’s body had been harmed. It would not be unnatural for the Seneschal to feel responsible and down a poisoned cup. The king’s body is sacred and inviolable.
Nevertheless, when he repeatedly said “punish me officially,” he had clearly lost his composure at that moment. While his mind carefully predicted the course of events, on the other hand, his heart was clamoring.
—I want to know this person’s true heart.
So, knowing it was futile, he provoked. The young man’s subsequent outburst was to Marcel half expected, half unexpected. The young man who was “an actor perfectly playing the king” cast off his performance. Or was that too part of the act? It was troubling, but he had anticipated the possibility of him revealing his emotions like that. No, he had hoped for it. That was what he desired. It was the form the ministers desired.
But there was one statement he could never have predicted.
Send his daughter Braune to serve. To “care for” him.
What kind of “care” would be required of a young woman—considering the polysemy of the Santeneri word “care”—his speculation could only be dismal.
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