Ch.129Expansion (1)

“Your Majesty, it’s time for you to retire.”

“Is it that time already?”

Though my workload had increased a bit lately, since I was merely in a position to give orders, my working hours and actual workload remained unchanged. The court attendants, who primarily handled court affairs rather than administrative work, were in a similar situation with little change to their workload.

As for the bureaucrats… well, at least they’re paid regularly, aren’t they? Of course, those officials who attempted insolent actions like unauthorized absences or resignations have long since lost such inclinations due to pressure, persuasion, and threats from various quarters.

I wouldn’t simply let go of slaves who have been extensively trained through countless hours of education and practical experience.

In this era where educated, literate people are extremely rare, losing even a few officials would be a painfully significant loss. Certainly, universities are continuously producing talented individuals, but it will take a considerable amount of time before they properly graduate and adapt to practical work, so I must hold onto my officials by any means necessary.

They can only quit their job after training at least two successors who can perform their duties with equal efficiency.

‘Everyone’s working hard today as well…’

Oh no… I can’t help but smile…

A smile involuntarily forms on my face as I see the officials through the window while leaving work.

Was I always this malicious? Seeing them continue to work while I head home fills me with an inexplicable satisfaction that tingles from my fingertips to my toes.

“…”

And Leclerc’s expression as he watches me is… so sunken it’s beyond description.

It’s like the face of a grandfather clicking his tongue at a grandson who’s developed a bad habit. What’s with that look?

“Do you have something to say?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

You do.

When I slightly furrow my brow and stare at him steadily as if telling him not to lie, Leclerc slightly closes his eyes and lowers his head a bit.

Written as text, Leclerc’s attitude might seem disrespectful and insulting, but the atmosphere suggests otherwise. He exudes the air of a grandfather who has given up trying to persuade his immature grandson, making it somewhat awkward to take issue with.

…Sigh, never mind.

“Ahem, I’ll be going then.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Your Majesty. Please keep up your strength for tomorrow as well.”

…What?

Somehow his farewell is different from usual. Asking me to keep up my strength for tomorrow? What’s that supposed to mean?

Hmm… am I feeling guilty because I’ve been slacking off too much lately?

Well, who would dare criticize me for doing as I please in my own domain? There’s genuinely no work to do anyway.

“Uh… thank you, you worked hard today as well.”

I just brushed off Leclerc’s words as a slightly different greeting. It wouldn’t look good to nitpick such things. Hmm.

“…?”

As I mumbled something and left the room, Leclerc, after bowing to me, headed toward the inner part of the palace instead of going outside.

If he were going home, he should be heading in the completely opposite direction… What’s going on? Is he going to his private office?

“Aren’t you going home?”

“Ah, I have some overtime work remaining today. It seems I’ve misallocated some tasks and need to make adjustments.”

“Is that so? Well… good work.”

It seems like something that could be done tomorrow… but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.

There’s no need to stop someone who’s willing to work hard.

……….

“Yaaawn…”

“Welcome, Your Majesty. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Good morning, Leclerc.”

Since I had no work anyway, I lazed around in bed with Ines and came to work a bit late. Well, not just a bit late—I arrived well after lunchtime… but who cares?

There’s a reason why executives and directors at companies come and go as they please. Even if they arrive early, there’s nothing important to do unless there’s a critical agenda.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. Did you eat before coming?”

“No, the timing was awkward, so the meal wasn’t prepared yet. I’ve arranged to have lunch served in my office today, so food should arrive when it’s time.”

“…I see.”

Of course, a king’s meal is never truly simple. While the quantity might be relatively less compared to dining in the royal dining hall, it’s still enough to stretch the mealtime to over an hour.

The setting up, dining, post-meal rest, and cleanup will probably take about 90 minutes, and since I leave work at 2 PM, my actual working time is only about an hour?

If I come in late like this again and have lunch in my office, I could reduce my daily work to just one hour. Oh…

‘That’s great!’

Ah… I shouldn’t think like this…

When I first became a duke, I worked diligently because there was so much to handle, but as the bureaucratic system gradually took shape, I had less and less to do and became lazy.

It’s not that I’m deliberately avoiding work.

Administrative tasks that don’t require my judgment or trivial matters are already handled by the staff, and the work that manages to pass through the numerous filters of those officials is further divided by Leclerc into matters that need my attention and those that don’t.

Only issues related to the legitimacy of the royal court, matters requiring diplomatic judgment beyond simple administrative decisions, unprecedented situations, and the like are brought to me. Matters that are predominantly administrative are handled by Leclerc.

As a result, I truly have nothing to do. There’s no way that many significant matters requiring my attention would arise in a single day.

At first, I was a bit frustrated by the lack of work, but now I think I’d be more bothered if work actually came up. It’s been like this for almost 1-2 years, so it can’t be helped.

This is Leclerc’s fault for being too competent, hmm. Not my fault.

Move aside, move aside—!!

‘…?’

As I was engaging in this self-hypnosis while wondering what would be served for lunch, suddenly there was a commotion outside the door.

The sound of someone almost screaming and their footsteps penetrated through the office door and reached my ears.

The sound was getting louder, suggesting they were coming this way…

*Thud*—!!

“Your Majesty!!”

“…What is the matter?”

Those with business with me should knock and enter only after receiving my permission, but I overlooked this breach of etiquette because the messenger’s face was so pale with urgency.

“*Cough, cough*—!!”

“…Take this water, and give me the letter.”

The messenger, who had rushed so urgently that he could barely speak after his initial cry, was handed water that Leclerc had prepared in advance, and then Leclerc snatched the letter from his grip and quickly read through it.

Leclerc’s expression as he read the letter was exactly the same as when we received the declaration of war from Caroling.

He slightly furrowed his brow before widening his eyes, making it clear without any words that he was greatly surprised. It was a textbook change of expression.

“Your Majesty, something has happened in Caroling.”

“In Caroling? They’ve been fighting among themselves for over a year; they shouldn’t have the capacity to worry about us.”

Are they throwing a tantrum about not being able to pay for goods they purchased?

No, that wouldn’t explain why the messenger was so agitated.

“Some nobles in Caroling who have claimed neutrality until now have joined the civil war.”

“…?”

What, is that all?

The expansion of a civil war is nothing unusual—

“And the ultimate goal of these nobles is to offer the crown of Caroling to Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty? Um… you mean the King of Caroling?”

It might sound like a foolish response, but it’s a reasonable one.

No, they’re having a civil war among themselves, so why would I, who has no connection to it, be mentioned?

What grounds would I have to become the King of Caroling in the first place?

If we go back four generations, my great-great-grandmother was from the Caroling royal family, so there’s a bit of mixed blood, but if that’s enough to claim a title, there wouldn’t be a noble who couldn’t become a king or emperor.

Besides, from their perspective, I’m half commoner.

Yes, “Your Majesty” must refer to the King of Caroling, who is of equal rank to me—

“…It refers to Claude, Your Majesty, the rightful monarch of Lotharing.”

However, my denial of reality is shattered by Leclerc’s direct gaze and his elegantly pronounced response.

“How… is that possible?”

“It must be possible, or this situation wouldn’t have arisen, would it?”

After giving this somewhat barbed reply, Leclerc proceeded to explain the contents of the letter to me.

The neutral nobles—not those who were forced into neutrality due to their weakness, but those major nobles who genuinely didn’t want to participate in the fighting—had collectively risen up in support of my claim to the Caroling throne.

These neutral nobles, or rather Lotharing faction nobles, had launched surprise attacks on the civil war factions who had let their guard down, inflicting significant damage. However, the power ratio between the combined civil war factions and the Lotharing faction nobles was about 4:1, so they couldn’t inflict enough damage to end the civil war outright.

And now these Caroling faction nobles were requesting my help. The reward, naturally, would be the crown of Caroling.

Oh my…

“How do I—no, how does one claim ownership of the Caroling throne?”

“Wasn’t the mother of the late Duke of Bourgogne, the Brave Duke, of Caroling royal blood?”

“…Is that really the reason?”

“Yes, it is. In power diplomacy, such minor justifications and weak pretexts are hardly an issue.”

That’s why smaller nations always keep their heads down, trying not to give even the slightest pretext to greater powers.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Leclerc’s posture resembled… a praying mantis with a butterfly within striking distance.

Like a mantis that had patiently waited for a careless butterfly to fly within reach, and now, with the prey finally in range, was extending its arms to make the catch.