Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 11 - Chapter Pr

Prologue — Prime Minister, Marshal, and Duke

According to the calendar, it had been around twenty days since the region had entered the active season.

The sun on the Southern Continent was harsh enough that, subjectively, the difference was not immediately palpable, but after twenty days, things had cooled enough to be noticeable. If the thermometer Zenjirou had brought was correct, the temperature had stayed lower than body temperature even at noon of late.

It was on an afternoon like that—too harsh to be called pleasant, but at least bearable—that an important ceremony was taking place in the Capuan royal palace. As evidence, the audience room was filled with as many nobles as could fit into the room. It felt almost as if every single noble within the capital was now present there. Of course, the majority of those nobles were there solely out of curiosity and to spectate, not as part of the ceremony itself.

There were three main people involved in the event. The first was a slight man of middling age. Zenjirou estimated that he was around 160 cm or so. He had wide, dark eyes and jet-black hair cropped relatively short. His skin was likewise darkened significantly and close to black.

Most Capuans fell between Southeast Asian and Latino in terms of complexion to Zenjirou, but this man was even darker skinned. His fairly slight build was still lean, though, and he gave off a vibe that it would be unwise to cross him.

This was Fidel Regalado. The man’s bearing meant that even with his smaller stature, he didn’t fade into the background. If anything, he was one who drew attention, such was the intimidating air he gave off.

Even he, though, was almost completely invisible thanks to the man next to him. This man had a massive, two-meter frame that was incredibly well trained and tempered. He was clad in a military dress uniform and had a heroic bearing. That was more than enough to narrow down who this was.

This was General Pujol Guillén, a hero of Capua.

The man had an air of pressure around him on a daily basis, but the gleam in his eyes and grin on his face inspired an intimidating sense of awe. His glee was inevitable; his long-desired goal was finally within his grasp.

It sounded charming when put like that, but the kindest thing that could be said about his smile was that it was like standing in front of a salivating drake, starving and with its mouth open.

Unfortunately, the third participant in the ceremony at the general’s side was Zenjirou himself. The clothes he was wearing were those of royalty, so his finery was several levels higher than either the viscount or general, but he was still the least noticeable among the three. Frankly speaking, he just wasn’t as intense.

That went without saying when it came to the general, but even the viscount seemed stronger and prouder than Zenjirou, who was well aware of the fact without anyone saying anything, so he was doing his best to have some form of commanding presence. Whatever the circumstances of his birth and upbringing, Zenjirou was royalty now. Proud and superior behavior was not a right but a duty. Zenjirou had the fable of the frog and the ox in his mind as he stood straight and puffed his chest out. His back was starting to ache and twinge due to the unusual tenseness.

An official on the dais struck a gong, signaling the start of the event.

“The inauguration will now begin. Make your way to the throne when you are called. Lord Fidel, Viscount of Regalado, come forth.”

The viscount was the first to be called. He stepped up onto the raised area with an easy gait, kneeling before Aura where she was seated.

The queen looked down at the man from her throne before standing. She then kept her eyes on him but held her hand out to the side in a silent demand. That was more than enough for the official at her side. He immediately placed some drake parchment into her hand.

It wasn’t particularly large, but the gold embroidery on it was visible even from a distance, showing just how grand it was.

The queen unfurled the sheet in front of her and sonorously read its contents. “Fidel, Viscount of Regalado. By my name as Queen Aura I, I appoint you my prime minister. May you prove equal to your role.”

She offered the letter of appointment to the man—Viscount Regalado—kneeling before her.

“I humbly accept, Your Majesty,” he replied, his voice unable to hide his emotions as he took the document by raising both hands above his head.

Aura then took a shining golden mass and a sparkling silver container from another official before handing it to the viscount. The golden object was the prime minister’s seal, and the silver container was an inkwell. The ink inside it was of a vermilion shade created by following a specific recipe. The prime minister could use both objects together to create official documents in his role.

The prime minister had wide-ranging, powerful authority. He could not enact or repeal laws but could authorize almost anything within the scope of already existing laws. Taken to the extreme, it was a position that could run the country as it had been until now without actually consulting the monarch.

“Lord Pujol, Marquis of Guillén, step forward,” the same official said loudly once the viscount had returned to his position.

The man’s gait was deceptively light considering his immense frame as he walked up to the throne. Things proceeded in much the same way they had for the smaller man.

Aura had reseated herself and awaited his arrival. Zenjirou was of the opinion that it was pointless since she would be standing again in the course of the ceremony, but it was likely also tradition.

“Pujol, Marquis of Guillén. By my name as Queen Aura I, I appoint you my marshal. May you prove equal to your role.”

“I humbly accept, Your Majesty.”

Where things differed in this instance was in the object handed to him. While the prime minister had been handed a seal and inkwell, the marshal was handed a short cane. It was about the length of an adult’s upper arm. However, it was constructed of gleaming gold, set with a mother-of-pearl inlay, and tipped with a ruby approximately the size of a clenched fist.

This was the object of the marshal’s office, the marshal’s baton. The marshal had full command of all military matters. Essentially, he was the prime minister, but for the military.

Having appointed both a prime minister and marshal, Aura could technically shut herself away in the inner palace and do nothing while the country carried on functioning both politically and militarily. To put it another way, she had previously treated the running of the country like driving a manual car. But the car now had full autopilot in the form of these two men and could progress autonomously.

The general case of the monarch’s word being law was unchanged, so Aura could still activate the metaphorical brakes if needed to halt that autonomous advance, as well as accelerate or steer it to change course.

However, if she fell asleep at the wheel, the country would keep on going. Decreasing her responsibilities was—in one way—exactly what she was aiming for. If she let her guard down, though, there was a greater risk of the country going in a direction contrary to her wishes.

She’s got it tough, Zenjirou thought to himself. I wish I could help at least a bit.

It was then his turn.

“Sir Zenjirou, come forward, if you would.”

Given his position as royalty, the official was rather more polite as he called Zenjirou forth. He advanced silently. His position meant walking a fine line. Capua was patriarchal to the degree that even marrying a matriarch would make you the family’s head, which meant that he was the spouse of the most influential person in the country.

It would be odd for him to hold himself as highly as Aura, but it was equally odd for him to defer too much to his wife. Therefore, he had to strike the fine balance between using as respectful a tone as he could and holding a fundamentally equal position. Today, he didn’t hesitate to kneel in front of the throne.

He kept his gaze on the red carpet as he heard Aura speak from her now-standing position.

“Zenjirou Capua. By my name as Queen Aura I, I appoint you Duke Bilbo. I also grant you second place in the line of succession. I look forward to your actions as a member of the royal family in the years to come.”

“Prince Consort Zenjirou” was married to Aura and so should avoid being too deferent to her. However, “Duke Bilbo” was nothing more than the head of a branch family, even if he was indeed royalty. Woman or not, there was no issue with him deferring to the head of the main family.

“I will do my utmost to live up to your expectations, Your Majesty,” he answered, taking the copy of the register accorded to him as Duke Bilbo and the gold, pin-like affair that signified his position.

Its official use would be to hold a turban in place. The native clothing of the country had turbans and used pins to hold them in place, acting as a somewhat simplified crown. However, the fashions from the Northern Continent meant that outside of intensely formal affairs, he could wear the more Western style of clothing even for official functions. On those occasions, it was to be used to hold a cloak in place or else as a pin on the chest.

With both objects in hand, Zenjirou made sure he did nothing that would contravene the etiquette of the event as he returned to his position. And thus, the formal inauguration of the prime minister, the marshal, and Duke Bilbo was over.

Regalado, Pujol, and Zenjirou. Each of them had attained new positions and had been central to the country even before that. The new titles gave two of them even greater influence. The political landscape of the country had just undergone a massive shift.

Each of the nobles present began planning how best to steer the newly decided future of the country in a way beneficial to them.