The wailing of the mourning women carried far enough that Maomao could hear them even from where she was.
She could also see from the second floor of the annex that a line had formed in front of the mansion.
"What a terrible affair."
As though it were someone else's problem, Suzume remarked.
"They say funerals should be solemn, but in the west, they really go all out, don't they?"
"And this is actually the restrained version, I'd say."
Maomao stepped away from the window and looked at the herbs on the table. They were medicinal plants gathered from those that grew wild in the grasslands. Suzume had brought them for her.
She had been about to prepare the herbs when an astonishing piece of news had come flying in, and now she was in a fix.
Gyokuō had apparently been killed.
The killer, it was said, was a farmer who had been coming to Gyokuō for handouts of money for quite some time.
Hearing the news, she was only half surprised. The other half was a mixture of understanding, a strange sense of relief, and unease.
"A farmer?"
"Yes. You know about it, don't you, Maomao? The matter of Gyokuō-sama's excessive charity."
They called it charity, but it was really just lending money.
"Right. I think anyone receiving money should realize their benefactor isn't a god. What were the terms of the lending?"
Maomao asked, figuring that Suzume, who had her ear to the ground, would know.
"Yes, that's exactly it. Apparently, it wasn't interest-free — the condition was that borrowers would provide labor in times of crisis. But nobody really expects a crisis to come along. In villages further west, maybe, but around the western capital, there have been no instances of foreign tribes invading."
Geographically remote, and at least within his own generation no wars were likely to break out — this was the kind of thinking that had led to the riot the other day. Gyokuō Jinshi had steered the conflict as though shielding him, and that was apparently the spark that led to her murder.
"I can see why, though."
Maomao could understand, at least a little, the feelings of the farmer who killed Gyokuou. People don't think something has anything to do with them until the embers fall upon their own heads. The poorer one is, the more one can only think of oneself. With such a narrow field of vision, they leap at whatever immediate desire dangles before them.
"May I ask one thing? The person who was killed—"
"He was apparently cut down immediately. As for the farmer's family, word was sent to them before the matter became public."
Suzume had a way of slipping in the very things Maomao wanted to know, almost offhandedly. If an imperial family member's life was targeted, the entire clan would be exterminated. He was no imperial, but— Gyokuyou was the empress's brother, and Gyokuen 's son. His impression on Maomao and the others was poor, but he had considerable support in the Western Capital. Even if the perpetrator had already been killed, danger could still reach his family.
"Did they manage to escape?"
"Suzume wouldn't know. But in the Western Capital, lynching is legally prohibited, so it would be a problem if they didn't escape properly."
It was prohibited by law, but who knew how much of a deterrent that actually was. The common people had been riled up enough to swarm the villa where the emperor's younger brother was staying, so their composure was largely gone.
"So, Maomao, is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
Suzume sat in her chair with a self-satisfied look. Maomao also sat down and picked up a half-withered medicinal herb. She planned to strip just the leaves from the stems and dry them.
"What will you do about it? You're the acting lord, after all. Work and whatnot—"
"Well, about that—"
Suzume also offered to help, picking up a branch. Though she had her frivolous moments, the capable maid mimicked Maomao and deftly tore off the leaves.
"Last year—has it already been a year? A considerable amount of the work was Rikuson 's to handle, it seems. Between that and the work the adjutant used to do, everything seems fine except for one point."
"Somehow, that one point sounds like it could be fatal."
"Indeed. There's no one to serve as the face of things. That's a big problem."
"Ah—"
Maomao understood. But questions arose at the same time.
"When it comes to the position, Rikuson would be the natural pick, but he's someone who came from the capital."
Judging from how he handled the locust plague, he seems to have more than enough leadership ability, but he's far too weak to serve as a successor.
"I was wondering—Gyokuen has quite a few other children, doesn't he?"
Maomao asked, seeking confirmation.
"Yes, indeed he does. Five more sons, at the very least."
"Can't any of them fill the role?"
"Well, here's the thing..."
Suzume hedged, choosing her words carefully.
"They all have their own specialized occupations, you see."
"Specialized occupations? Such as?"
"Ships, pottery, things like that. Many of them are artisans. No matter how talented,"
"Rahan"
"—the older brother wouldn't be suited for national governance, would he?"
She pictured Rahan, the older brother, doing desk work rather than toting a hoe. He could probably handle it just fine. But put him out in the field and he'd be ten times more useful.
Besides, being merely adequate isn't enough for the person on top. Even the most capable could be replaced the moment they made a single mistake.
"They could always groom one more person with a knack for politics, though."
"Perhaps the eldest brother simply didn't want to compete. And when it comes to political advancement, no one has risen higher than Empress Gyokuyou."
"Now that you mention it, that's true."
Forming a family tie with the Emperor—there was no higher achievement than that. And Gyokuen, despite having risen from the merchant class, had become the Emperor's father-in-law.
But it was a problem.
Who, then, would govern the Western Capital?
"Gyokuen would never return to the Western Capital at this point."
"It would be difficult given his position. Even if the one who died was"
"his"
"own son, I don't think he'd return to the current Western Capital. That's why, once the funeral is over, the Lady of the Moon will have her hands full with those discussions."
"There are several other important people around, aren't there? Can't it be worked out there?"
"I hate to be the one you're asking, Suzume. But there is one thing I know for certain."
Suzume leaned in close to Maomao.
"Wh-what is it?"
Maomao leaned back slightly as she asked.
"No matter how things turn out, the Lady of the Moon will come home exhausted. A medicinal bath to chase the fatigue away — preferably one that isn't bitter."
"...I'll have it ready."
As Maomao plucked leaves, she made a mental note to check whether the honey she'd brought along hadn't been entirely devoured by the quack doctor.
Just as Suzume had predicted, Jinshi's exhaustion the following day was something else entirely. Even the quack doctor, who was usually fooled right away during house calls, was openly suspicious something was wrong.
"I'm exhausted. That's enough — I'm heading home."
With that, Jinshi slunk off home. Maomao, meanwhile, was left behind.
(This is a bit awkward.)
It was the first time they had properly faced each other since that roundabout expedition under the guise of replenishing supplies. Still, Jinshi's exhaustion was so extreme that she couldn't help but feel curious about what had happened.
The people around Jinshi all seemed to have gotten the news already, wearing somber expressions. Just what kind of grueling story had he told them?
"Sit down, for now."
Maomao sat down as instructed. She had already given Suiren the medicine she'd prepared.
"Ask me what happened."
"What happened?"
Maomao asked, just as she'd been told.
"Well, here's the thing—"
Honestly, it had probably been a long time since he had let himself go this much in front of his subordinates.
Gaoshun was the only one around, he would sometimes let his guard down like this — but.
(To Suirei, Momomi, to Suzume, Bashan...)
Though his figure was no longer visible, Baryo must have been somewhere around as well.
Jinshi letting his guard down in front of everyone. Suirei and Momomi looked like they were about to scold him, but they didn't. There had to be a good enough reason for him to be this lax.
Suirei quietly set a medicinal broth before Jinshi. Called a soup, it was closer to a stew. Trying to mask the bitterness with sweetness would only make it taste strange, so she'd simply made broth instead. Medicinal herbs were combined with fatigue-relieving vegetables and simmered into a stew with cheese and milk. The beef strips had been cooked until they could be easily chewed through.
Honestly, the ingredients were probably too coarse and the flavors too muddled for royalty, but Maomao had thought it over and made what she believed would be most effective. A remnant of its medicinal origins gave it a green hue, but it shouldn't taste bad. The quack doctor, Suzume, and Rihaku had all given it their seal of approval as delicious.
"Hmph."
Jinshi let out a breath after taking a sip of the broth. For someone who'd asked for it, he was certainly putting on airs. Still, it seemed to suit his taste, as he plunged his spoon in and started eating the ingredients.
(Was he hungry too?)
Once he took the first bite, he couldn't stop, and he finished the entire thing. He wiped his glistening lips crudely with the back of his hand. A gesture befitting a young man of his age.
But in the next instant, his expression sharpened. He straightened his slouched posture, and the fatigue on his face had faded. He could switch gears in an instant.
"The question of who would take the lead in governing the western territories—sure enough, the discussion just went in circles."
"I imagine so."
Maomao answered, glancing toward Momomi. In front of Suirei and Suzume it was one thing, but Momomi's gaze was still unnerving. She never knew at which point Momomi might interpret her attitude as disrespectful, so she was walking on eggshells.
"The proposal to put forward Lady Gyokuyou's other sons—every single one of them refused. They each said the candidates were accomplished in different fields but unsuited for politics. Every last one."
Jinshi emphasized the point.
His fists were clenched as well.
「Next, I looked into Lord Gyokuou's deputy and such. As far as their work goes, they seem fine, but none of them have the temperament to be in charge.」
「They're the type more suited to being deputies, I suppose.」
「Yes.」
There are people like that. Not everyone hopes for advancement. Some are fine without status, as long as they don't have to worry about their next meal. Lord Gyokuou's deputies apparently were all of that sort.
(Are they naturally like that, or did they end up that way?)
If you don't need to be at the very top and are satisfied with a certain level of standing, then being a deputy is probably better. If your personality is too serious, you end up taking on too much work and your stomach suffers for it.
「I also checked with some influential people in Seito. The answer was no. The reasoning was that as a business proposition, the drawbacks outweigh the benefits.」
「They have a very merchant-like mindset.」
「That's the kind of town it is. If Lord Gyokuen had as much power as he does, it might be different, but the other merchants' influence is reportedly all about equal.」
I don't know how many factions of Seito merchants there are, but if you act rashly, you could be crushed by another faction. Right now, with the locust plague keeping them busy, I can understand not wanting to take on extra work.
「Personally, there was one person I had in mind, but—」
「Yes. Who is it?」
「Rikuson.」
Hearing the name, Maomao thought, *Of course.* Even she could think of the name, so Jinshi surely was considering it too. More importantly, Suzume had definitely reported properly.
「You don't seem entirely convinced?」
Jinshi looked a bit perturbed.
(Mhm, I should speak up before this gets complicated.)
「Because I saw how he took action without panicking during the locust plague. Besides, you'd need a certain boldness to serve as deputy to an eccentric, wouldn't you?」
Objectively, it was clear he had high capability.
「Yes, Suzume-san also highly recommends him.」
Suzume straightened up, extending a hand. A raptor's gleam shone in her eyes.
「But he claimed he's a commission from the central government.」
「Exactly.」
Since Rikuson came from the central government, it was probably best not to be too forward.
The situation was just as Suzume had described.
(Then again, if he'd been from the Western Capital or something, it would have been a different story) Maomao felt a twinge of something off about her own thoughts, but chalked it up to her imagination.
"Worse than that, he told me to take over as chief."
"Huh?!"
Even Maomao couldn't help but stand up and raise her voice.
Those raptor-like eyes swiveled toward her. She sat back down in her chair, embarrassed.
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. For the actual work, the deputy officials will carry on as before. But that man—Rikuson—told me I should stay on as the face of it. That man, Rikuson!"
(Oof.)
This was going to be exhausting. The deliberate emphasis he'd placed on it was the whole point.
"I'm not just some consultant—I'm supposed to be a guest, aren't I?"
Jinshi confirmed.
"That's correct."
"In that case, it wouldn't be out of place for me to have already gone back to the capital, right? So why was everyone staring at me like that? Huh?"
"That's true..."
She recalled it being short— Three months— or so. But she hadn't heard how long it could be at maximum.
(What month was it now?)
Maomao counted on her fingers. She'd been in the Western Capital for nearly five months. Adding the sea voyage, she'd been away from the capital for close to half a year.
She truly wished that man called Yuuyoku had waited a bit longer before getting himself killed. No, she didn't wish for his death, but he had died without properly clearing up his misunderstandings of Jinshi, of the imperial brother. He had done nothing but fan the flames of war among the people.
What an insufferable man.
(But then again, what would have happened if he'd still been alive?)
If a man with that much power in the Western Capital had been stirring up war, even in Jinshi's position, there was no telling how long he could have opposed it.
The Sa'ou...
The war might have been avoidable, but—.
"But, L-Lord Jinshi—"
Maomao hesitated slightly before using Jinshi's name. Raptors really did have terrifying eyes.
"Either way, you were planning to stay, weren't you?"
"......"
Silence was the right answer.
If it was such a hassle, he should have simply gone back the moment the locust plague struck. Given his position, no one could have complained, and there must have been one or two letters inviting him to return.
A leaderless Western Capital—with the populace driven to unrest by the locust plague, foreign tribes pressing in, and public morale in tatters. Even if the thought alone was enough to make anyone sick, Jinshi would be turning it over in his mind.
"You can't just leave the Western Capital like this, can you?"
"That's exactly right."
Jinshi let out a heavy sigh. He was back to looking exhausted again. And he kept glancing at Maomao.
"What is it?"
"......In the current situation, it would probably be somewhat safer to return to the Central Capital."
She wondered who he meant, then realized he was talking about her.
"I suppose so."
He'd spoken of keeping Maomao safe, yet she'd ended up covered in locusts, and a mob had stormed the estate.
But saying so here would be a mistake.
"Don't go telling me to go back now. The eccentric strategist will be returning too, without exception."
Maomao drove the point home.
(I really do want to go back, I want to go back so badly.)
She held back.
"As for how much trouble the Central Capital would be in without the eccentric strategist—honestly, it wouldn't matter much. If anything, wouldn't it be more practical for him to stay in the Western Capital, even if he's a bit of a nuisance? He has his shogi partners there, too."
"But—"
"If I were simply a foot soldier who could be sent anywhere without affecting the battle, that would be one thing. Am I a foot soldier to you, Lord Jinshi?"
"......"
"Do you have anything you want to say?"
"...Do."
Jinshi averted his gaze slightly as he spoke.
"...Just now, I want to eat one more bowl of that stew."
"...Yes, I'll bring you another serving."
Maomao thought, does this mean he's keeping me because I'm useful? She also hoped the quack doctor hadn't eaten all the late-night snacks, and thought it would be terribly unfair if she could just use the imperial designation as an excuse to take them.