Does anyone actually like meetings?
Normally, everyone hates them, right?
Say, “Let’s cut out pointless meetings,” and you get a storm of agreement.
At least, that was how it was at my company. I imagine most places are more or less the same.
You almost never get a meeting where people actually discuss something practical, examine it together, and eventually reach an agreement.
Usually, the broad outlines have already been worked out somewhere beforehand by the people involved, and the meeting is where they present the result.
Because think about it.
There is only so much you can discuss in an hour or two.
And the bigger the issue, the more people become involved.
There is no way you could fit all of them into a conference room.
If that was already true of some tiny regional company that could be blown away by a stiff breeze, then for an entire country...
Yeah.
Impossible.
And everyone knows that.
From the newest recruit all the way up to the company president.
And yet meetings are always held.
Actually, there was a period when I was almost possessed by the need to hold meetings myself.
In the end, I think it was anxiety.
The anxiety of the people at the top.
Unless you can see your subordinates’ faces and check their expressions, you cannot help feeling uneasy.
Take your phone, for example.
Have you ever patted your pocket to make sure you did not forget it?
It is like that.
But do you ever touch your leg just to check whether it is still there?
Of course not.
Because your nerves connect it to your body.
Your phone is not connected to your body through nerves, so you worry about it.
Your leg is, so you do not.
And a company, unfortunately, is much closer to the phone.
Unless you reach out and check that it is still there, you cannot stop worrying that you might have dropped it somewhere.
A phone matters, so you do not want to lose it.
Conversely, if losing something would not especially bother you, there is no need to keep checking on it.
Which is why I have spent this entire meeting touching the pocket watch in my pocket.
Gold has a particular warmth and softness to it that calms me down.
Even though it is metal, there is something almost yielding about it.
What I really want is to take it out and stare at the dial.
But if I did that during a meeting, people would misunderstand.
They would start wondering whether I had another appointment afterward and was getting impatient, or whether checking the time was my way of signaling that I was bored.
No, I do not have any plans.
And I am not bored.
I just have nothing to do, so I want to look at something I like.
Back in Japan I wore a wristwatch, so I could sneak little glances at it.
A pocket watch, though...
Today’s royal council contains almost no information that is new to me, so I have been feeling a little idle.
“Your Majesty, we ask for your approval.”
Marquis Froisbourg, the Steward, spoke those solemn words.
To me.
All the senior people from the various departments were gathered in my office.
Starting with the Steward, who also serves as chancellor, there were the Comptroller, the Lord of Foreign Affairs, the acting Lord of the Army, the Lord of the Navy, the Inspector General of the Royal Guard, the Lord of the Interior, and the Lord Chamberlain.
The heads of all the major departments were here, along with the holders of important posts beneath them.
And me.
In other words, almost the entirety of the Kingdom of Santeneri was gathered in this room.
The only thing missing was a representative of the common people.
I silently sympathized with whoever had arranged this.
It must have been a nightmare.
Important people like these have their schedules packed solid.
Dragging them all out of those schedules and forcing them into the same room must have been an incredible amount of work.
Back in the old days, I would probably have spent the whole time staring at their faces and running my brain at full speed.
Ah, that one isn’t convinced.
Looks like those two already reached an agreement beforehand.
Things like that.
Now, though, I feel absolutely no urge to do it.
Because if I would not particularly care about losing something, there is no point constantly checking that it is still there.
I do not want their loyalty.
I do not want their trust.
As long as everyone somehow keeps this country running, I ask for nothing more.
“Have all of you exhausted the discussion?”
I asked the Marquis.
It was basically a ritual.
“Yes. We have spent considerable time examining the matter. We are united in the belief that, under present circumstances, there is only one best path for the Kingdom of Santeneri.”
The Marquis declared it calmly, but with dignity.
Because this is a ritual.
“I see. First, I offer my gratitude to all of you who have devoted yourselves each day to our country, the Kingdom of Santeneri. I have now received the conclusion to which you have guided me. Having received it, I hereby order you to proceed accordingly. As the one who sits upon the throne, I give you that order.”
There was only one thing I absolutely had to say.
This is the king’s order.
The person who gives the order assumes responsibility for it.
That is why I cannot merely say, “I agree with everyone’s opinion.”
I have to give a clear order.
Over the course of a three-hour meeting, this was the one and only thing I actually needed to do.
I had spent the entire time sitting in that chair just so I could say that one sentence.
And thus, the Kingdom of Santeneri decided to reverse a traditional foreign policy that had endured for centuries—long enough to be called a fundamental national principle.
Reconciliation and cooperation with our sworn enemy.
The Empire.
And my marriage.
◆
The “Empire” borders the Kingdom of Santeneri to the east.
Its formal name is:
The Realm Ruled by the Sovereign of Mankind, Granted Authority to Unite the Kings Beneath the Glory of the Orthodox Faith.
Ours is bad enough, but the Empire is pretty ridiculous too.
That name is long.
There is no shortened name like “the Something Empire.”
There is only one empire on the Central Continent, so everyone simply calls it the Empire.
It is a loose confederation in which enormous lords—roughly equivalent to the Duke of Gaillure in Santeneri—each style themselves kings and gather beneath an emperor elected from among them.
I said “elected,” but...
Well.
That is the official story.
They did genuinely elect emperors in the old days, but the imperial throne has been hereditary within House Estburg for a very long time now.
House Estburg simultaneously holds both the imperial title and the crown of the Kingdom of Estburg.
It is not quite as large as Santeneri, but the Kingdom of Estburg alone is about half our size.
The other kingdoms, by contrast, are considerably smaller.
The Duchy of Gaillure would be about the upper limit by our standards.
And Santeneri and the Kingdom of Estburg have always hated each other.
Both sides have done plenty to deserve it.
Whenever a king changes, the other side interferes.
They come up with one excuse or another.
The nobles on this continent are all related somewhere along the line, after all.
Ah.
I may have made it sound like both sides are equally at fault.
For the last hundred years, we have clearly been worse.
See, the Empire is formally a confederation of small kingdoms, right?
That means each of those kingdoms possesses its own diplomatic authority.
And when Santeneri sees something like that...
Well.
We feel tempted to poke at it.
Take the Kingdom of Stüburg, which borders us along our eastern frontier.
It is an old and prestigious house that once held the imperial throne itself, although these days it is more of a mid-tier power.
So we start raising objections whenever there is a succession there.
Something like:
“Wait, didn’t a princess from a cadet branch of House Leroy marry your king about fifty years ago? And doesn’t one of her grandsons seem rather clever? Wouldn’t he make a better King of Stüburg? Your direct line ended, didn’t it?”
When someone does that, Stüburg splits apart.
A Leroy faction and a conservative faction.
If the Leroy faction wins, the western part of the Empire effectively falls under the influence of the Kingdom of Santeneri.
Naturally, that causes serious problems for Estburg, which shares a border with Stüburg.
First, it could lead to the collapse of the imperial “framework” itself.
Second, the heartland of Estburg becomes vulnerable.
Because if the Leroy faction wins, of course we will send troops to protect our dear royal relative.
And by “send troops,” I mean we will go as far as permanently stationing them there.
To prevent that future, Estburg intervenes militarily.
Then the Leroy faction comes crying to us for help, so unfortunately we have no choice.
We send our army too.
And we keep doing this.
Over and over again.
There are plenty of other kingdoms within the Empire too, by the way.
In fact, the decision we just made was triggered by the actions of one of those many kingdoms.
The Kingdom of Prozan.
◆
Lady Mary is joining me for tea today.
She was at the meeting before noon with her father, the Inspector General of the Royal Guard, so she must be tired.
The fact that she shows absolutely no sign of it is probably part of what makes her such a hard-driving career woman.
Lady Mary is wearing the Royal Guard’s semi-formal uniform.
Or maybe court uniform?
The truly formal attire for women is a dress, apparently.
Anyway, this uniform looks cool.
Her vivid blue jacket is lined with crisp gold buttons and fastened all the way to the neck.
Decorative epaulettes at the shoulders.
Service ribbons on the chest.
Trousers below.
They have been pressed with sharp creases, which only emphasizes how slender her legs are.
And the black stripe running down each side is a nice touch.
Great legs.
But that is another trap.
If I stare too long, I am in trouble.
The Labor Standards Inspection Office will come for me.
“Was that truly acceptable to you, Your Majesty?”
She delicately pinched the handle of her cup, took one sip, then set it back down with equal elegance.
Lady Mary really is picturesque.
“I do not mind. King Fleisch of Prozan is a hero of our age. I once admired him and wanted to become the same sort of man. But admiration is only admiration.”
Prozan is a small kingdom controlling the north-central region of the Empire.
Originally, it was a quiet, pastoral duchy.
Two rulers ago, its duke laid the foundation.
The previous king built up its military, distinguished himself in the Empire’s wars, and forced the Empire to recognize his right to use the title of king.
And now Fleisch III has become the point from which the storm sweeping across the Central Continent is beginning.
A sophisticated conscription system.
A refined training regime.
The latest equipment.
Add to that King Fleisch’s own natural military genius, and Prozan has become a powerful state with influence far beyond what its small territory ought to permit.
My personal reaction, though, is:
Wow.
That must have cost a fortune.
Armies devour money.
More than equipment, they devour money through people.
Companies are the same.
Labor costs.
Labor costs.
Labor costs.
Nothing but labor costs.
And a little way behind that, taxes.
If you asked business owners everywhere to vote for the words they hated most and made a ranking, “labor costs” would definitely come first.
The ratio of labor costs to revenue is incredibly irritating.
And when I imagine the famous God of War of the Central Continent, King Fleisch, sharing that irritation with me every day...
I feel a strange little sense of kinship.
“Considering Your Majesty’s feelings, I had thought...”
“That I would insist until the very end that we ally ourselves with Prozan. Is that what you expected?”
“Forming an alliance with Estburg and encircling Prozan is the conventional strategic choice. However, I believed there would remain many obstacles to actually carrying it out.”
Many obstacles remain.
That is such a useful phrase.
What she really means is my childish enthusiasm and Santeneri’s traditional foreign policy.
Those are the obstacles.
But if she actually said that openly, she would be criticizing the king.
And she would also be criticizing the previous kings who established those traditions.
The fact that she is willing to go as far as saying “many obstacles” already feels like she is pushing things pretty close to the limit.
She probably dares to go this far precisely because the decision has already been made in the royal council.
Did her father put her up to this?
“I am a young man prone to dreaming, so I understand your concern, Lady Mary. And not only yours. I understand the concerns of everyone who drew up this proposal.”
“Concern is hardly—”
“It is all right. I am aware of it. And I hold no resentment toward any of you. That is the truth. You see, Lady Mary, I have realized something. A fool who is capable of recognizing his own incompetence can become a slightly better fool.”
I decided to step a little closer to the line myself.
Basically, everyone wants to know whether I feel that they forced this decision on me.
Whether I truly accept it.
That includes Lady Mary’s father, the Inspector General of the Royal Guard.
And honestly, I understand why they are frightened.
I am the king.
Even if I am reasonable for a while, I might suddenly change.
Just as I abruptly became “a different person” about two months ago.
I might become “a different person” all over again.
So everyone who put together this proposal has to live with the possibility that, a few days from now, a few months from now, or even several years from now, the Royal Guard might suddenly surround their estates.
Then they could be arrested.
Executed.
I feel nothing but respect for everyone who pushed this plan forward while carrying that fear.
Seriously.
That is incredible.
Lady Mary in particular knew the old me well.
The old me adored the Royal Guard and used to visit their encampments at every opportunity.
I saw her often there, and occasionally invited her to tea gatherings like this one.
No matter how extreme the things I said, she never openly contradicted me.
She might even have felt a little favorably toward me.
After all, I was loudly calling for the Royal Guard to be strengthened.
Doubled.
Tripled.
No.
Maybe not.
Everyone is happy when their work is appreciated.
But if the praise becomes excessive, the person receiving it starts wondering:
Am I really this capable? Or is this guy just an idiot?
And the more excessive the praise becomes, the more likely the person being praised is to look down on the person doing the praising.
I do not know which way Lady Mary leaned, but there is probably about a seventy-percent chance she thought:
This guy is an idiot.
Probably.
“What about you, Lady Mary? Surely you have feelings of your own about this.”
“...I would never—”
“I have spoken honestly. Now it is your turn.”
This is not a good way to pressure someone, is it?
I can only do this because we live in a society with a fixed hierarchy of rank.
In a company, even with a subordinate, about the most you could do would be casually draw something out of them in the middle of pointless small talk.
But this is Santeneri.
And I am the king.
“—I am proud to serve in the Royal Guard. Ever since Mary Ene en Barois, the founder of House Barois, protecting the royal family has been the pride of our house.”
“Yes. You bear the name of that loyal retainer. Having someone like you in the Royal Guard is reassuring to me as well.”
I nodded firmly and took a sip of tea.
At least, I think this is tea.
I understand.
I do.
I understand how Lady Mary feels.
To show that, I even attempted one of my clumsy smiles.
“And so... knowing that the Royal Guard will change its form leaves me with a certain sadness.”
Well.
By “change its form,” she means cease to exist.
We cannot do it all at once, so the plan is to spend roughly ten years gradually integrating it into the Army of the Kingdom of Santeneri.
It cannot be helped.
Two armies with completely different chains of command, equipment, food supplies, quarters, and contractors are difficult to maintain.
If one were merely a unit within the other, that would be fine.
But they are two militaries with virtually no compatibility whatsoever.
If they were obviously different things, like an army and a navy, I could understand.
But both the Army of the Kingdom of Santeneri and the Royal Guard are land forces.
In other words:
We do not have any money.
I want to save even a little.
Royal household expenses?
Yes, those cost a fair amount too.
But the palace functions as a consumer, and the sellers are our own citizens.
If a major consumer suddenly tightens its purse strings, merchants suffer.
That is how it works.
Of course, excessive spending should be corrected, but we cannot slash it dramatically.
And the same is true of the military.
The military is also a consumer.
So we reduce things little by little.
While we reduce them, we move people into new industries.
It is incredibly dull work.
By the time it is finished, I will probably have gray hair.
Or the clock will run out first and my head will no longer be attached to my body.
“But!”
Her sudden forceful voice startled me so badly that I dropped the pastry I had been eating.
This is exactly the sort of thing Lady Braune would scold me for.
“Your Majesty made this decision. The Royal Guard is the final fortress protecting your own person. To change it means that Your Majesty is willing to expose yourself to danger for Santeneri.”
Exactly.
The Royal Guard is basically the king’s personal weapon in case something happens.
So reducing and dismantling it means giving up my sword and leaving myself unarmed.
This is actually a fairly life-threatening decision.
“I do not know what the others of House Barois may think. But I personally believe Your Majesty’s decision displays courage equal to, if not greater than, that of King Fleisch!”
Lady Mary rarely displays strong emotion.
Of course she laughs.
She jokes too.
But there is always a line she never crosses.
She is an ordinary woman, but she carries herself like a professional.
And yet now her voice was unusually forceful.
Resolute.
I found myself staring straight into her bright green eyes, the same color as those of Mary, the founder of her house.
“Your Majesty, Grois XIII. You have entrusted your own person to all the people of Santeneri, from us nobles to the common people. There is no other king as brave and noble as you. As one citizen of this kingdom, I am proud that the crown of The Sole Kingdom on Earth, Protector of the Orthodox Faith shines upon the head of such a man.”
That is a very kind thing to say.
But you see...
It is a curse.
Everyone casually says things like:
“As expected of the ruler of the Sole Kingdom on Earth.”
Or:
“Truly, Your Majesty is the one worthy to occupy the throne of Santeneri.”
I understand that they are praising me.
But put another way, it is the same as reminding me:
In the end, this is your responsibility.
“Lady Mary. Thank you. And I am sorry. If peace is concluded with the Empire, we will return to the cities many of the troops currently forced to remain massed along the border. Naturally, the army will become weaker. And if the Royal Guard is reduced, it too will weaken. Everyone will suffer wounds alike. The only person who escapes entirely unscathed—and even gets a wonderful wife on top of it all—is me. I feel rather guilty.”
I apologized to Lady Mary, then ended with a joke.
And executed a graceful change of subject.
“By the way, Lady Mary. I happened to overhear something last night at the Gaillure evening party. I was told that you possess a most wonderful hobby.”
“Huh?”
Lady Mary froze slightly at the sudden shift.
Of course she did.
We had been discussing very serious matters a moment ago.
“That would be... Lady Braune, I suppose? Was she the one who told you?”
There seems to be a little color rising in her face.
Is this where the Labor Standards Inspection Office comes in?
No.
Santeneri’s compliance standards are pretty loose.
This much should probably be safe.
“I have forgotten who told me. But I know only the professional Lady Mary, so I found myself somewhat curious.”
“...It is embarrassing to admit, but I do... a little needlework.”
The contrast with her earlier dignified intensity is incredible.
“I see. That is wonderful. You have a very precise temperament, Lady Mary. I imagine it suits such delicate work rather well. What do you make?”
“...Stuffed animals, Your Majesty.”
“Stuffed animals.”
“Yes.”
“What sort?”
“Puppies. I make little black puppies.”
Ah.
That makes sense.
“If I recall correctly, the crest of House Barois is a black dog. Is there some story behind that?”
Nobles, you see, love it when you ask them little bits of trivia about the history of their house.
It is probably instinct by this point.
Proof that their family possesses a long and distinguished history.
It seems to be carved into their identity.
My family has stories about how terrifying my grandfather looked and how aggressively successful my father was.
But those are the sort of stories I absolutely cannot tell anyone.
“Yes. It seems Mary, the founder of our house, was extremely fond of black dogs. There is even a portrait of her. Naturally, it was painted much later entirely from imagination.”
There were no photographs, after all.
No video either.
History is recorded in paintings.
House Leroy has plenty of them too.
My favorite hangs in the great hall of the old castle, Stour en Leroy.
It is called The Queen’s Coronation.
The proportions are wildly distorted in the typical medieval fashion, but I like the cold look in the eyes of the queen painted enormous at the center.
Whenever I see it, I find myself thinking:
She must have gone through a lot too.
Though Queen Marguerite, the woman depicted there, was apparently one of the great rulers of the early Leroy dynasty.
It would probably be rude to lump her together with me.
“I see. That is charming. If you would not mind, perhaps you could show one to me sometime.”
“Yes... No, I mean...”
Ah.
That is the limit.
I pushed a little too far.
Though I genuinely did want to see one.
Honestly, I would almost like her to make one for me.
Dogs are wonderful.
They can entrust everything to their owner.
And best of all, nobody expects them to take responsibility.
I want to be a dog in my next life.
No.
This is my next life.
I want to be a dog in the life after next.
For that purpose, I intend to accumulate as much virtue as possible in this life.
“That was somewhat discourteous of me. Please forgive me. Ah—it is already this late. It seems I have monopolized quite a lot of your time as well, Lady Mary.”
I opened my beloved pocket watch and checked the time.
Lady Mary rose smoothly from her chair.
“Ah, one more thing. Earlier, Lady Mary, you praised me. But that praise should instead be given to your father, the Inspector General of the Royal Guard. And to everyone willing to accept pain for the sake of Santeneri.”
That was completely sincere.
Because I have not actually done anything.
All I said was:
“Develop your proposal without treating anything as untouchable.”
And the Royal Guard really is untouchable.
If you interfere with it carelessly, you could easily find yourself suspected of treason.
Which makes the Inspector General of the Royal Guard remarkable for agreeing to dismantle a sacred institution his people have protected for centuries.
That deserves respect.
Closing a department is hell for the people at the top and hell for the people below.
“...Your words are far too generous, Your Majesty. I will be certain to convey them to my father.”
◆
The Kingdom of Santeneri and the Empire will conclude the first comprehensive peace treaty in their history.
King Grois XIII of Santeneri will become engaged to Anneliese von Estburg, eldest daughter of the imperial House Estburg.
The wedding will take place when Princess Anneliese reaches the age of eighteen.
At present, Anneliese is sixteen.
I am twenty.
Two more years.
There is not all that much we can accomplish in two years.
No.
There may not be much we can accomplish, but if we can simply avoid doing the things we no longer need to do—in other words, avoid war—that will be enough.
Santeneri and the Empire, the two greatest powers of the Central Continent, will now stand together.
I sincerely hope King Fleisch of Prozan sees that and restrains himself.
And I would also appreciate it if Angran did not make any moves.
No provoking King Fleisch.
No providing him with new-model firearms.
Let us all get along.
Yes, skirmishes are still continuing in the New Continent, but never mind that.
Let us get along anyway.
I do not want any more expenses.
Santeneri has no money.