The Count of Bercy had been busier than ever lately.
His rank had risen from baron to count. He had further been appointed the Empire's Minister of Justice. In the Empire, the order of precedence was the Emperor, the Chancellor, and then the Minister of Justice. He had vaulted to become the real power behind the government in one fell swoop.
What made it worse was that in the current Frank Empire, both the Emperor and the Chancellor were absent. Emperor Henri III was dead. The Chancellor's duties had been temporarily assumed by Henrietta de Bretagne. Now both of them were gone.
There was the Dowager Empress, of course, but she was more of a figurehead — a symbolic presence at best. Moreover, the Dowager Empress was old now. It was plain for anyone to see that the Count of Bercy was the head of the government.
From a mere sub-baron to the Empire's de facto chief administrator in the blink of an eye... One could well call it the glory of his family. But the Count of Bercy honestly could not bring himself to be happy about it.
"What kind of empire even is this..."
The Count of Bercy rubbed his forehead as he flipped through the documents.
The documents laid out the state of the Frank Empire. It was far beyond what could simply be called "not good." Finance, justice, military — every single domain was an utter mess. Worst. That single word hovered in the count's mind.
"This won't do."
The Count of Bercy set down his hands.
If he kept reading any longer, his skull was going to explode. How many days had he been running on less than three hours of sleep? Four days, five, six... The count gave up counting at fifteen.
"What am I even doing."
The count scoffed at himself. It seemed his head was going as well...
The Count of Bercy sank into the backrest of his chair. Exhaustion washed over him. Just a short rest, he thought, and closed his eyes. He didn't know how long had passed. Outside his office, a servant spoke.
"Your Excellency. Her Majesty the Dowager Empress is here."
"Hm."
The Count of Bercy's eyes snapped open.
In an instant, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face in one swift motion. He rose from his seat, buttoned up his coat, and smoothed out his jacket. The entire sequence took five seconds. Clearing his throat to steady his voice took two more.
"Show her in at once."
It was a flawless sequence.
The door opened, and an elderly woman entered the study. The Count of Bercy moved toward her and was about to drop to one knee, but she smiled and waved him off.
"Spare me the formalities, Count. You must be tired enough as it is."
"I am most honored."
Before the Count of Bercy could even pull out a chair, the Dowager Empress strode over and seated herself. Royal women were invariably expected to grow more rigid with etiquette as they aged, but the Dowager Empress was the exception. She had simply been born a matriarch to her bones.
"How are things?"
Straight to the heart of the matter, no preamble. The Count of Bercy managed a wry smile.
"Frankly, Your Majesty, they are dreadful."
"My. You are a man who doesn't know how to flatter, are you."
"I beg your pardon."
The Dowager Empress furrowed her brow in exasperation. But she wasn't truly displeased. The evidence was the mild, comfortable atmosphere filling the study.
Over the past month, the Count had come to grasp the Dowager Empress's character to some degree. She despised empty ceremony, spoke coarsely but carried immense pride — a matriarch through and through. That was Catherine de Medici, the Dowager Empress who had borne three emperors.
"Your Majesty. How are the nobles?"
"Don't even get me started. 'Return our lost territories,' 'Restore our family name'... Those pigs who sat quiet and obedient under Bretagne's rule now have the shamelessness to whine!"
The Count of Bercy couldn't help but laugh again. The tone of voice was impeccably refined, befitting perfect etiquette, yet the words themselves were as coarse as a street thug's. It was an unfamiliar manner of speech, yet it suited the Dowager Empress with surprising perfection. She was far more entertaining to talk with than he had ever vaguely imagined.
The Dowager Empress narrowed her eyes.
"Does that sound like a joke to you? I'm not kidding. The number of nobodies requesting an audience every day exceeds seventy. Count, this is elder abuse."
"It means there are many families that were ruined under Bretagne's oppression, Your Majesty."
"I know that."
The Dowager Empress's gaze grew serious.
"But, Count. I have no intention of quietly restoring those people to their positions. They turned their backs on the nation and the imperial family when both were in danger."
"You mean..."
"Titles and estates are far too generous for those who forgot their duties, wouldn't you agree?"
The Count of Bercy swallowed hard.
Bretagne had forcibly dissolved the estates of countless nobles. Vast tracts of land came under the imperial household's control. Naturally, the nobles revolted, but they were crushed beneath the boots of Bretagne's powerful army.
Now, with the new government established in Parisiorum, the surviving nobles were clamoring for the restoration of their former honors. The Dowager Empress was denying them that.
"Your expression is surprisingly grim. I heard you were a republican, Count."
"...Your Majesty. I am deeply ashamed to say this, but if the nobles were to rise in revolt, I do not have the means to handle it."
Even the security of the Parisiorum district had been entrusted to the Batavia Republic's forces. They had offered to provide protection free of charge for the next year, but they would surely not go so far as to actively suppress a rebellion.
"It has not been long since the civil war ended. The countless people of Frank yearn for peace. The cooperation of the nobles is essential to rebuilding the nation."
"I will spend my own fortune."
The Dowager Empress said firmly.
"If we offer the Republic's forces a handsome bonus, they will gladly join the fight."
"..."
The Dowager Empress's resolve appeared unshakable.
"Count. If you look at it differently, this is an opportunity."
"An opportunity, you say?"
"At present, there is not a single duke left in Frank. The Queen of Bretagne had every last one of them killed. The counts and barons are few in number compared to before. Has there ever been an age when noble power was this weak?"
It seemed the Dowager Empress harbored thoughts beyond mere republican ideals. The Count of Bercy leaned in to listen.
"No, Your Majesty. The power of the nobility has indeed been weakened."
"So now, if you were to restore the nobles to their former positions, what do you think would happen? They would try to reclaim the properties they lost to Bretagne. And there's only one place left to squeeze wealth from."
"……They would ruthlessly exploit the peasantry."
The Dowager Empress nodded.
"Do you understand now, Count? Wishing for peace is a noble sentiment. But if you cooperate with the nobles, it is the common people who will suffer. And then this time, it will be the people who rise in revolt."
"So it's nobles rebelling or peasants rebelling……is that the only difference?"
The Count of Bercy groaned.
It was certainly a sound judgment. Nobles and commoners alike had endured far too harsh a period these past few years. They were on the verge of exploding. Civil war was inevitable.
"If a revolt is going to happen regardless, it's better to worry about the future of Frank."
"……."
"I will not stake the future on a pack of pigs who don't even know the meaning of duty."
The aging woman, now sixty years old, had eyes that blazed with fierce intensity. Silence fell. After a moment, the Dowager Empress withdrew her gaze and murmured quietly.
"The empire's decline is my fault."
"Your Majesty?"
"When I came to marry from the Kingdom of Sardinia, I was brimming with confidence. I would bear a great emperor and cultivate a court and a kingdom that anyone would envy……I was a failed mother."
Her tone was so thoroughly desolate that the Count of Bercy could not bring himself to speak.
"I believed a son must be raised strictly. Only then could he become a wise ruler. But my children all grew up timid. It was because I was too severe with them……. Frank's misfortune ultimately stems from my misguided upbringing."
"……."
"The imperial family can no longer sustain the nation. The same is true for the majority of the nobility. I believe my remaining duty is to leave the kingdom not to the foolish imperial house, nor to the misguided nobles, but to someone else entirely."
The Count of Bercy bowed his head.
Why should the woman before him have to bear such anguish? The count felt a suffocating weight in his chest. He could not accept it. She was a woman who deserved a happier family, more worthy retainers at her side. She was noble enough to merit precisely that…….
At this moment, the Count resolved to incite a civil war once more. In the past, he had been furious with the Emperor and the Queen of Bretagne for starting one. But now, the Count himself had decided to ignite the flames of rebellion.
Just as Father Jean Vollet had said, it was no longer possible to remain a bystander. For the future of the Franks, for the future of the people, he had to sacrifice himself.
History would record him as the one who restarted a war just as peace had finally been found. The nobles would shed tears of blood in lamentation, and the common folk would brand him a tyrant. There would be no honor, nothing of the sort...
But he couldn't keep his head bowed forever. There was a voice that pulled him upward.
"Count. Will you join me in my last remaining duty?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I will devote my life to you."
"Haa, hic... haa."
The ragged breaths came intermittently. It was Ivar Lodbrok.
In the bedroom prepared at the headquarters of the Qunxka Trading Company, Ivar and I were entangled, naked. We had just finished the first half.
Despite being a Vampire, Ivar was surprisingly weak when it came to nocturnal activities. After only around thirty orgasms, the focus had already vanished from her eyes. A faint mark of saliva glistened on her pale pink lips. Was it because she hadn't slept in a while? Today, her sensitivity was particularly acute.
"Your... Majesty. No more, hic. I can't anymore."
"What's wrong, Ivar? Surrendering already? The honor of the Bloodkin of the Night will weep."
I whispered playfully, biting the lobe of her ear.
"Haic!"
Ivar's small body shuddered. She came weakly.
Her inner folds constricted tightly around my manhood. The sensation was as if every wrinkle clung and sucked like a suction cup. I couldn't help but let out a gasp. She was exquisitely tight. Ivar's body greedily begged for pleasure, regardless of her owner's will.
I held Ivar in my arms and moved my hips. I was seated on the edge of the bed, holding her facing me. With each deep thrust, her small body lifted helplessly.
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty, hic, Your Majesty..."
Ivar clung to me tighter, tears streaming down her face. It was as if she felt she would break unless she held onto something. Her legs wrapped firmly around my waist. It was rather adorable.
Did she know that the closer she clung, the deeper my tool would batter her insides? A mischievous smile played on my lips.
"Lady Lodbrok. Are you about to finish?"
"Hnnh, y-yes... I am... aahh, already, already so many times...!"
"If you answer my questions properly, I'll take it slow. It seems the new Frank government is prepared for a showdown with the nobles."
Ivar gazed up at me with her moisture-laden eyes. Hot, shallow breaths spilled ceaselessly from her lips.
"Yes, hnnh... hngh!"
"A government that's already short on funds. The burden of financing a war can't be easy. What do you think? Lending money to the Frank Empire through the Batavia Republic."
"Aah, hnnh... Your Majesty, wait, ahhhn! Again, hngh, you just... went a moment ago...!"
I picked up the pace. Ivar let out a moan. Her head tilted back, exposing her pale, slender throat.
"Aa, aah, aah! I don't want to, haaaaahn! Why, you keep...!"
"It's about putting the Empire in debt. There'll come a day when that proves useful. Don't you think, Lodbrok?"
"Mmh, hnnh, ahhhhhh... ah...!"
Ivar convulsed. Her entire body trembled violently, as if struck by paralysis.
I loosened my grip on her as a test. The blonde girl collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. She lay there, utterly spent.
"......"
Ivar stared blankly at the empty air. Even so, the girl's body continued to shudder from the aftershocks of the overwhelming pleasure that had washed over her.