281. The Hawk Soars (2)
Robert Benitier de Tremule. It was not uncommon for the evaluations of imperial nobles to vary, but few figures in his era received such starkly contrasting assessments.
Some called him a parricide. The emperor’s corruption was a fact acknowledged by the church, but few among the nobility believed it at face value. Thus, Robert’s actions were seen as no different from those of a power-hungry parricide who killed his father.
As long as his sister, Everiz, was alive and well, he should not have inherited the title of Count Tremule. The common belief was that he gained his position by actively supporting the Duke Carvelier’s efforts to dethrone the emperor.
And then there was another assessment: that he was a cunning figure in troubled times. It was too complex and grand a conspiracy to be merely the work of someone drunk on power. Pointing out that he and Rene Philippa had worked together for a time, the nobles believed he had been Rene’s advisor.
However, unlike the assessments of noble society, the citizens of Gur viewed Robert with nothing but praise. As such—
“Waaaaah!!”
As his carriage passed through the market street, cheers erupted as if they would burst eardrums, even though he hadn’t shown himself outside the carriage.
Flower petals rained down, and the citizens roared.
It was only natural. Robert, with his chin resting on his hand, listened to the commotion beyond the thick curtains.
“Quite popular, Count Tremule.”
“Haha, popularity… It’s inevitable. After all, the masses love a ruler who fills their bellies.”
The situation in Gur was not much different from that in Ribue. Gur was a trade port, and at a time when most imperial trade ports were suffering, it had rapidly risen to become the empire’s premier trading hub.
It was only natural. After all, it was Robert himself who had struck the other ports of the empire.
At least in terms of maritime trade routes, Gur’s prosperity was built on trampling over the poverty of other port cities.
“Jean Albre. You should take note as well. The greatest nobles are not mosquitoes that suck the blood of the people to fatten themselves, but those who grow by feasting on the love of the people.”
Without a hint of arrogance, Robert spoke coldly. There was no pride in his eyes. He continued as if merely stating a fact.
“The most precious luxury and the insurance of one’s life are the people.”
“A very humanistic noble you are, Robert Benitier.”
“Humanistic…? Haha. Jean Albre. We are nobles, politicians. Humanism… Such things are neither necessary nor sufficient for us.”
Robert suddenly pushed open the curtain. As his face appeared through the pale window, the citizens’ cheers soared. Robert lowered the window and waved his hand vigorously.
After encouraging the citizens for a while, Robert closed the window and drew the curtain, then spoke coldly.
“Loving a politician and loving family or friends carry different weights. Politics is ideology before profit. They would turn their blades even on family for the sake of ideology. That is my insurance.”
The carriage, with its curtains drawn, was shrouded in deep shadows. Through them, Robert’s pale blue eyes gleamed coldly.
“If I were to raise the military flag and gather soldiers, they would follow me at the cost of their lives. If I were to declare someone an enemy and hang them on the gallows, they would throw tomatoes and rage. The greatest politicians have always been the most beloved. The authority of a noble does not come from the sword but from trust.”
“…Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your father couldn’t.”
At Robert’s words, the man sitting across from him bit his lip. He lowered his eyes for a moment, trembling, then raised his head to glare at Robert.
But the exchange of glances did not last long.
Under Robert’s cold gaze, the man soon bowed his head again, powerless. He was afraid. That man was terrifying. That was all.
“What… What do you want me to say? You’ve succeeded, and I’m just a fallen noble who lost his territory and was driven out due to my father’s misdeeds.”
“But you are still an Elector.”
“An Elector…?”
The man, Jean Albre, jerked his head up and shouted. Despite his fear, his eyes were bloodshot, filled with venom.
“What kind of Elector am I without territory or people! Are you… Are you mocking me? Insulting me? How can I… How can I be called a ‘lord’!”
“The rights of an Elector cannot be transferred. Jean Albre de Vares, Duke of La Merthion. Your bloodline is the only proof.”
The rights of an Elector cannot be transferred. Given the history of imperial noble law, this was only natural.
No matter the family, they would inevitably rise and fall over the long course of history. But if the authority of an Elector were transferred to another family each time, the empire’s framework could not be maintained.
Considering the domains each Elector held. The fall of one Elector would lead to a weakening of the empire’s national power. Moreover, the first Elector Council had to prevent their authority from being usurped by other nobles in the future.
The emperor’s crown is not inherited, but the seal of an Elector is always passed down within one family.
Even after the complete downfall of the Duke Sephor of Bülrang, the beastmen of the Great Wilderness did not exterminate the ducal family but established a puppet government for this very reason.
Therefore. Even though La Merthion is currently occupied by the Eastern Kingdom Alliance. The Vares ducal family is still an Elector. As long as he is not assassinated.
“You knew that, which is why you sought my protection, didn’t you?”
“……”
Jean Albre’s head fell heavily. When he realized his family had been annihilated while he was away, he immediately sought out his old friend, Robert. It was due to the threat of assassination.
If the bloodline of an Elector were completely severed, where would the family’s authority go? While a lengthy legal battle would ensue, as such a thing had never happened in imperial history, the most likely outcome was that it would go to the de facto ruler of the territory.
King Vicente of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance. His actions after occupying La Merthion made the situation clearer. In fact, without the direct assistance of Robert’s Iron Side, Jean Albre would never have been free from the hands of assassins.
“…Vicente… That damned country bumpkin… He… me…”
“Yes. But how can you blame a foreign king? You should first blame your father’s tyranny.”
“How dare you say that to me…!”
“Now, now. If your father had, like Duke Carvelier, enjoyed the full support of his vassals and people, how could a foreign monarch like Vicente have effectively controlled imperial territory?”
If the authority of the Vares ducal family had been sufficient, the outcome would have been entirely different. The Eastern Kingdom Alliance, by its structure, could not choose a protracted war. Each command was entangled in the interests of different kingdoms.
In such a situation, if Jean Albre, the legitimate heir of the Vares ducal family, had rallied his vassals and begun resistance based on sufficient authority, it wouldn’t have taken long for La Merthion to return to the empire’s embrace.
The prestige and authority of Duke Carvelier in Ribue were absolute. This was proven by the fact that even after Emperor Erbe was assassinated, his vassals awaited Rene’s return without a hint of disturbance.
Had his authority been insufficient, a rebellion would have erupted immediately—either against the emperor who killed Erbe or among the vassals vying to control the power vacuum in Ribue.
In any case, Rene’s authority would have been utterly crushed in such a scenario. The reason she was able to hold authority and be recognized as Duke Carvelier was largely due to her father’s legacy.
‘Of course, that wasn’t the only reason…’
Robert knew the truth behind it. It was because of the existence of [Untouchable]. The one who assassinated the emperor, destroyed the imperial palace, and annihilated the elector’s legion with just over five hundred men. His presence alone was enough to keep the nobles in line.
But there was no need to reveal all that. He glanced at Jean Albre. The seemingly fragile young man was trembling in shock and misery.
Robert clicked his tongue and spoke.
“Listen, friend. If you still consider me a friend. If you came to me just to discuss the remnants of your life, speak now. I’ve returned to the territory to restore your rights.”
“……How? Isn’t it already too late? La Merthion has long been under the direct control of the Dane Royal Family!”
“Too late? Haha! It’s been a thousand years since La Merthion was part of the empire, and King Vicente of Dane has only held the city for three months. Isn’t it too early to talk about late or early?”
Of course, Jean Albre was right. King Vicente, who declared he would save the people from the tyranny and slaughter of Duke Bares, poured resources generously, and his authority among the people was now unparalleled.
But could he become an imperial? No. Imperials are inherently proud. Proud of being the strongest nation in the civilized world. Robert chuckled and continued.
“We will save the empire’s people from foreign oppressors. That is the strongest and only justification we can have.”
“……What about the troops? Aren’t all of Gur’s troops naval forces? If it were Duke Carvelier, it might be different. But Duke Carvelier’s forces haven’t even left the capital… I doubt they’ll help me…”
“Are they the empire’s only troops? The empire’s legions number over two hundred thousand. There are eight electors. Just conscripting from La Merthion’s subordinate cities would easily gather twenty thousand troops.”
“Was Gur that wealthy? No. No matter how rich Gur is, can it really afford to fund other territories?”
“Does it have to be my money?”
Robert crossed his legs slowly and spoke.
“Didn’t I tell you? The electors aren’t just us. Their coffers are full, so why would they need Gur’s wealth?”
“How will you get them to open their coffers? Even if possible, La Merthion would be in debt for centuries.”
“Would they really engage in usury when the empire is in danger?”
“……Do you have a flower garden in your head……? Do you think the electors will provide funds without any return?”
“Of course. Oh, we’ve arrived.”
-Clunk!
The carriage stopped, and outside the curtained door, a commotion filled the air. Robert, lounging on the sofa, stood up at the call from outside.
“Your Excellency! We’ve arrived!”
“Come, let’s get off.”
-Creak.
As the velvet-lined door opened slowly, the dazzling blue sea came into view. The uniquely calm and beautiful docks of Gur Port appeared.
But looking at the docks wasn’t easy. Everywhere on the docks, every harbor, massive ships were lined up. And around their carriage, men in white uniforms stood at attention, shouting in unison.
“Salute to His Excellency Robert Benitier de Tremule, the Court Count of Gur!”
“Glory to Gur!”
“May it last forever!”
As Jean Albre stared blankly at them, Robert patted his shoulder and laughed.
“Have you forgotten my nickname?”
The Privateer Count. Another insult following the scoundrel. The man who led privateer ships to indiscriminately attack the empire’s port cities.
“……You’ll blackmail the electors……? It might have been possible during wartime, but now that Duke Carvelier holds power, it won’t be easy. Back then, there was at least the justification of attacking the pro-emperor faction… But now, if you act like that…”
“The electors’ land forces would devastate Gur. I know that.”
“Then how exactly……?”
“I’ll support other ports. Ensure trade and protect sea routes. Fill the electors’ coffers as much as possible.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
Robert laughed heartily at that.
“A starving man becomes a thief, but one who gets even a crumb of bread becomes a tool. Because he gains hope of filling his belly. Once, twice. Those who grow accustomed to begging for mercy will never rebel. Politics isn’t done with a sword, Jean Albre. If you become an elector, remember that.”
Politics is closer to a methodology of using tools. A methodology of using this tool to break other things. The port cities, realizing their hunger, cannot suddenly reject the helping hand or think of greater greed.
They won’t flip the plate and risk losing the bread that might fall to them. Humans have always been like that. A small gain. Even the slightest favor can easily make them change their stance. They ‘love’ the hand extended to them.
And politicians are monsters that feed on the people’s love.
“La Merthion will return to the Bares ducal family. All I want is one thing. Until the elector council…”
“Support the Carvelier ducal family?”
“No. Oppose them.”
“……What?”
“And form a faction. Most of the broken port owners were pro-emperor nobles. Electors, their vassal nobles, all of them. Naturally, they’ll hold a grudge against Duke Carvelier. Unite them. At this moment when the emperor is dead. How many true pro-emperor nobles remain. What that list looks like. Report it to me.”
Politics is a methodology of using tools. Robert looked at his new tool and continued.
“And when the elector council begins, support Duke Carvelier.”
“What about the nobles on that list……?”
“If they can survive until the council day… Unanimity will be difficult.”
Unanimity is difficult. That means a majority vote is practically guaranteed. Jean Albre shuddered and rubbed his arm.
“Why go this far? Isn’t Rene Philippa practically confirmed as the next emperor?”
“A certain man desires an overwhelming victory.”
“……A certain man?”
“There is such a man. He’ll soon come to this city… I’ll introduce him to you then.”
If politics is a methodology of using tools, then for that man, politics is just one of many tools. Untouchable. A master of victory in battle, strategy, intrigue, conspiracy, and political strife—all without revealing himself.
A man feared because he is unpredictable. As the head of the empire’s intelligence agency and the Court Count, Robert couldn’t help but think of the one man he truly feared.
Fernandez Sernerd. It had been three days since the young man’s messenger arrived. And a week later, news reached him that the young man had passed through Gur’s gates and entered the city.
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