By early March, a family meeting was called at House Wellrod.
Such a thing had never happened before.
It felt too soon for any major change, and Isaac grew uneasy, bracing himself for whatever would come.
The family gathered, and the servants withdrew, leaving only Morgan's secretary behind.
From that, Isaac understood.
――This would be an important discussion.
If it were a trivial matter, there'd be no need to dismiss the servants.
Still, Isaac tried to calm himself.
(If the talk were about granting Nathan priority in succession, the secretary wouldn't be present. It would spread quickly, so servants could hear. This must be something else.)
In truth, he was just forcing himself to believe it.
The seeds had only just been planted.
If Nathan were truly declared heir now, Isaac would lose any justification for the succession struggle.
That would be disastrous.
Though outwardly composed, inwardly he was far from calm.
He watched silently, waiting for Morgan to speak.
"I've received notice that I am to be appointed foreign minister."
Morgan looked around at everyone.
"Count Lancaster, the current minister, has fallen ill often of late. It's become difficult for him to fulfill his duties, so the matter has come to me. I'm not expected to perform as highly as my father, Jude, the former head, but they do expect a fair amount."
His eyes turned to Randolph.
"To meet that expectation, I intend to devote myself to the office. Randolph, I leave the duties of Lord to you."
"Yes."
Randolph accepted with a grave look, sensing the weight of responsibility.
"I've been given a year to prepare. In spring and summer, I'll pass the lordship to Randolph. After that, I'll take over as foreign minister. But that is only the plan—it could move faster. All of you, support Randolph as best you can."
"Yes."
This time, the reply came from everyone but Randolph.
Especially for Lucia and Melinda, who would move from "the Lord's son's wives" to "wives of the acting Lord," much work awaited.
The household tasks Margaret had handled until now would fall to them.
Life was about to become even busier.
"Count Lancaster's poor health must not become public. I trust you will keep this quiet."
Morgan closed the matter with a firm warning.
(Then perhaps Nathan and I didn't need to be here...)
Isaac thought so, but kept silent.
Rather than being excluded as a child, he preferred to believe he was trusted as family.
"But... what level of expectation is this? Surely not like grandfather's..."
Randolph asked nervously.
Grandfather Jude had been Count Lancaster's predecessor.
"No, of course not. They expect the kind of steady work Count Lancaster has provided."
At that, Randolph let out a breath of relief.
If Morgan were asked to act like Jude, even family could not feel at ease.
Jude, the former Marquis Wellrod, had been taciturn and poor with words.
But he could read hearts and manipulate them with ease.
He excelled not only in diplomacy but also in intrigue.
Any country he visited—ally or not—was on edge.
Even friendly states kept constant watch for signs of treachery.
When an allied nation was invaded, he led reinforcements and mediated peace.
Until the day he was killed in a sudden raid on headquarters, the diplomatic stage had been Jude's domain.
His name appeared not only in Wellrod records but even in the kingdom's modern history.
Yet he had not been perfect.
Isaac had heard that when Morgan was told his father had fallen in battle, his first reaction was not sorrow, but relief.
Jude's brilliance had cost him something essential as a person.
For Morgan to be expected to act like such a man was impossible.
Even if he could, it would only trouble others.
Hearing that he was expected merely to match Count Lancaster, Morgan gladly accepted.
(Great-grandfather was insane in his own way... but that Count Lancaster who took the role after him is incredible too.)
The greater one's predecessor, the harsher the comparison.
"That man could have solved this much."
Such words were inevitable.
Only someone with iron nerves could endure such a cursed post.
Isaac silently praised Count Lancaster, though he had never met him.
"Life won't be the same as before. I'll need everyone's effort. Any questions?"
Isaac raised his hand.
"If you become foreign minister, will you live in the Royal Capital, grandfather?"
This was something he needed to know.
"Yes. I'll be negotiating and meeting with envoys of many countries. Margaret and I will live in the capital. ...I'll miss seeing you and Nathan."
Morgan looked at the boys with fond eyes.
Randolph protested.
"Father, how can you bear not seeing your cute sons?"
Morgan snorted at his son's teasing.
"You're of age to rejoice in independence, not cry over parting. I'll be glad to see you finally stand on your own."
"How cruel."
The two laughed together.
Someday, he had known, a day of parting would come.
At least this was not a sudden separation by death—living apart was far better.
With no further questions raised, the meeting dissolved in a calm, almost warm atmosphere.
――But Isaac's heart was anything but calm.
(One year left... this is bad.)
Until now, Morgan and Margaret had been there.
Their presence alone had been enough to restrain Melinda.
――But what would happen once they were gone?
That was the root of Isaac's unease.
No one knew what Melinda might attempt once no one remained to hold her back.
If she continued gathering supporters slowly, waiting to seize control, that would be tolerable.
But if she grew impatient and acted at once, the results could be disastrous.
(Right now, I have no way to stop her. I need some reason that will make it impossible for her to act...)
Ordinarily, Isaac should have rejoiced.
Morgan becoming both Marquis and foreign minister, a central pillar of the realm—this was a proud achievement.
Yet for Isaac, it meant nothing but danger.
Isaac's response was to bury himself in books.
He searched for answers, reading every account he could find of his great-grandfather Jude.
(He just visited an ally of the enemy, drank wine, and went home—and that alone made them fight each other? How suspicious can you get...)
Of course, Jude never simply "did nothing."
He used suspicion itself as a weapon.
By acting only as a harmless envoy, he provoked paranoia in enemy states.
Convinced Jude must have plotted something, they struck their own allies to secure their rear.
"Jude only drank and went home," he claimed in defense.
But such a weak excuse was impossible to believe.
Guilt made them assume he lied, and so they acted rashly.
(To understand how others see you, and then exploit it so perfectly... this man's flexibility is terrifying.)
No matter how Isaac tried, he could never reach such heights.
His great-grandfather seemed like a protagonist of legend, not a real man.
When Isaac finished the biography, he felt the satisfaction of reading a fine novel.
(Wait, no. Why am I satisfied? This is dangerous.)
He rebuked himself.
Yet it was hard to help it.
Until now, he had only read picture books and histories.
This biography, filled with moments fit for tsukkomi (T/N: comedic retorts in Japanese storytelling), was gripping in a way nothing else had been.
He had lost himself in it.
(Still... I'm relieved he's dead.)
That thought—relief that Morgan's own father had died—Isaac could agree with completely.
Morgan had once had sisters.
None lived now.
Jude had killed them.
He had married his daughters to men who might harm the kingdom.
So far, a common political marriage.
But then, Jude poisoned them all—sons-in-law and daughters alike.
Naturally, even a Marquis had no right to kill other nobles.
So he claimed:
"Someone tried to poison me. My sons-in-law died in the attempt, and even my daughters were caught up in it."
No one believed him.
But because his own children had also died, he escaped punishment.
Isaac trembled at a man who treated his children as disposable pieces, and yet... he respected him too.
(To rule people, one needs both carrot and stick. Jude ruled through the stick alone—through fear—and still rose above all. Incredible. I would never want to become such a man... but his talent was undeniable. Used rightly, he could have left a better mark on history.)
Perhaps he had used carrots as well, but if so, they were subtle—so subtle they were remembered only as tricks, not kindness.
His great-grandfather had been extraordinary.
But now was not the time to dwell on it.
Isaac's own future mattered more.
He closed the biography and picked up a book on the interracial war.
(This world has elves and dwarves. Could I make allies of them?)
Two centuries ago, they had lived peacefully with humans.
But relations soured, and eventually war broke out.
Since then, each race had withdrawn into its own realm, cutting ties.
No law forbade contact.
If he could win them over, they might become powerful allies.
The dwarves lived south of the Wellrod lands, beyond the mountains where the rock-salt mines lay.
The elves dwelled east and southeast, deep in the forests.
Close enough to reach.
But there was a problem.
(If I enter their territory, they'll kill me. Best not.)
Since the war, they had guarded their borders with lethal force.
Any intruder was met with death—so the books said.
The risk was too great.
And Isaac had no subordinates he could order into such danger.
The trump card lay within reach, but he could not grasp it.
The frustration gnawed at him.
(No... this is better. Handling poison is tricky.)
Nitroglycerin could save a heart or explode like a bomb.
Relying on other races for power would be even riskier.
He understood that much.
He would have to find another way.
(Damn it. I never should've wished to Santa. What I wanted wasn't sudden chaos like this.)
The looming absence of his greatest protectors—Isaac could only curse the fate that stripped them from his side.
Notes:
• Ran - She is a gentle orphan, appeared as Mobu's close friend, surviving the demon attack in their secret hideout.