24-Hour Revolving Consultation Office, Episode 6
The Clan Empire.
In this land, there existed only two ducal houses and three marquisates.
Furthermore, there were only about ten count houses.
Even compared to other kingdoms, the number of high nobles was remarkably low for such a vast land.
‘All of this is because of the first emperor’s command.’
The first emperor, Ren.
He had feared the growing power of the nobility. Because of that, he placed a limit on the number of high nobles.
‘…It would be easy enough to ignore that trivial restriction.’
But the meritorious houses at the center of power—perhaps because their authority derived from the first emperor—sought strictly to uphold his words.
‘And that’s how the procedure called expulsion from the nobility came about.’
And now, the Rien house was that prey.
*Crumple.*
The report was mercilessly crushed in Rora’s grip.
So violently was it crumpled that it seemed about to be torn to shreds.
‘Just because Grandfather isn’t here, they go this far!’
For the past year, she had steadily received demands to attend the noble council.
What had begun as an invitation had gradually turned into a veiled threat.
‘Yes, now is the perfect opportunity to strike our house from the nobility!’
Because a mere child, just past twenty, was leading the house alone.
Returning to her bedroom, Rora donned a long white coat that served as the symbol of the Rien house head.
“The dagger count matches, too.”
Naturally, twenty-one daggers were concealed within the coat.
Having finished her preparations, Rora gently ran her hand over the bedroom wall one last time.
*Click.*
A section of the wall shifted, revealing a secret compartment.
Inside was a magic safe, and within that safe lay only a single object.
A small badge engraved with a golden sun.
“So this is what everyone wants so badly that they’re making such a fuss.”
Badges of five distinct colors, bestowed by the first emperor, Ren, solely upon the five meritorious houses.
They served both as proof of being a meritorious subject recognized by the first emperor,
and as the minimum qualification to stand as chair of the noble council.
“…A writ of pardon.”
Any crime except treason could be pardoned once.
‘And each house possesses its own special privilege.’
Secret privileges unique to each house, known only to the family head.
“Enough to make one covetous.”
A deflated laugh escaped Rora’s lips.
“Even if one wanted to steal it, a stolen badge wouldn’t be recognized, so one couldn’t even steal it.”
The badge could not be recognized as valid unless its owner formally transferred it before the entire Grand Noble Council.
‘And the moment the badge’s master loses their noble seat, they must transfer the badge.’
She had considered handing it over and living quietly in the provinces, but the situation had changed.
A client had appeared.
And no less than the Crown Prince.
“First, I need to bring Tom.”
“Tom, you may leave the house now.”
“My lord, do you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Haah, very well. If you ever consider going into business together, contact me.”
To Rora, he was like a close friend.
The butler.
She had to bring him along.
* * *
*Clang!*
Rora exited the mansion and began to walk.
‘As always, so many eyes on me.’
The House of Count Rien was located at the heart of the nobles’ district. Rora had always endured such gazes. Of course, today she could especially feel the whispering.
‘This is what it’s like every time I take a rental carriage.’
The House of Count Rien is now so destitute they don’t even have a single carriage!
Such rumors were circulating.
“Well, it’s true.”
So she wasn’t particularly upset.
‘Do you know how much money it takes to maintain horses!’
With that money, how many more daggers could she buy? Besides, it was far better spent on food and living expenses.
*Swoosh—*
The wind blew, making Rora’s long coat flutter slightly.
Despite her circumstances, she possessed beautiful golden hair and long limbs. The long white coat draped her in an elegant, weighty silhouette, and beneath it she wore a neat beige suit.
Finally, a golden badge gleamed at her collar.
‘Should I meet Tom and mooch some lunch?’
A servant of a noble house, who had been glancing out the window at Rora walking along lost in such thoughts, muttered,
“Even without money, her dignity hasn’t died.”
“Right? Our young master ought to learn that kind of dignity.”
A dignified gait and upright posture.
All of this had become as rigid as habit for Rora.
She thought quietly,
‘If I’m going to keep living in the capital, I’ll need basic living expenses. Where can I get them?’
Her worries deepened.
‘…Should I ask the client for some compensation in advance? No, I said what I said; I can’t go on about reward already.’
*Swoosh—*
Rora strode with long, elegant, yet swift steps.
‘Is there nowhere to get money? If it really comes to it, should I secretly run a few mercenary jobs?’
It was then.
*CRASH!*
“Goodness!”
Genuinely startled, she thrust her hand inside her coat.
And gripped a poison-coated dagger.
This, too, was habit. Pure habit.
‘Wow, what is that?’
Eyes wide, Rora looked toward the source of the explosion.
The neighboring estate of the House of Count Rien, and one of the five meritorious houses—the Ducal House of Cheoseu.
A house that had produced generations of swordsmanship prodigies.
“…It’s breaking.”
One of that house’s windows had shattered.
‘The mad young master must be up to his tricks again.’
Servants could be seen rushing about frantically.
‘Truly, that house is a mess, too.’
Thanks to that madman, the Ducal House of Cheoseu paid no heed to the House of Count Rien and made no schemes against them.
They were merely indifferent neighbors.
‘I heard the Duke and Duchess have been terribly troubled lately? That he has a mental problem?’
The eldest son of the Ducal House of Cheoseu was, in some ways, a pitiable man.
It was said that after losing his grandparents in an unfortunate accident in childhood, he had suffered a severe mental shock.
‘They say he can’t live without drink.’
Having lived dependent on painkillers and alcohol, he committed all sorts of acts while drunk, and as a result was called a madman.
‘Rumor has it he even beat up several nobles.’
Of course, if one considered the circumstances, it wasn’t his fault.
‘Even so, I heard he has considerable talent for the sword.’
So much so that it was said he passed the knight’s examination as soon as he came of age.
Even if it was merely a knighthood in name.
In any case, he had apparently beaten nobles black and blue so satisfyingly that a royal knight had famously muttered he envied the feeling of his fists.
‘Anyway, it must be a headache for the Duke—huh!’
Rora sucked in a breath.
Their eyes met!
Though the distance was considerable, she had clearly locked eyes with the man standing alone by the broken window.
‘I need to avert my gaze, fast!’
Long black hair.
There was no doubt—that man was Sorinte, the eldest son of the Ducal House of Cheoseu.
Rora quickly turned her head. Though the movement appeared quite elegant, Rora was panic-stricken inside.
‘If I get entangled with that madman and end up fighting…!’
It would be fine if that madman destroyed their mansion. The Duke would pay for all of it.
‘But if I accidentally damage that Ducal House…!’
If that happened, she didn’t have the money to pay damages!
Not a single coin even if she turned everything upside down!
‘Whatever the reason!’
It was best not to get involved with that madman.
‘I need to hurry.’
Rora picked up her pace and moved away from the ducal estate.
* * *
The Ducal House of Cheoseu.
Though not as large as the House of Count Rien, it was the third-largest mansion in the capital.
The man gripped the broken window frame and felt the wind brush past his cheek.
His mouth slowly opened.
“This place… this place isn’t an illusion, not hell?”
He turned his head.
Staring at his own face in the mirror, at eyes that were still a translucent red, the man muttered,
“So this is really reality…?”
Ah.
With a sigh, strength left his legs and he collapsed onto the spot as if crumbling.
* * *
*Click.*
Rora opened the carriage door and stepped down.
“Shall I wait?”
“Could you?”
“Of course, Count.”
The old coachman gave Rora an affectionate smile.
“Then I’ll be back within thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Count.”
The old coachman, Jack. He had originally worked for the House of Count Rien.
But now he worked as a driver for a rental carriage service.
“Jack.”
“Yes, Count.”
Rora approached him and quietly told him her next destination.
“I’m going to meet Tom shortly.”
“…Young miss!”
The coachman had unwittingly uttered the title he used to call Rora when she was young.
His eyes trembled.
The master of the House of Count Rien was going to meet the butler who had last left their service.
That meant only one thing.
“Count.”
Jack asked in a whisper,
“…Do you intend to revive it?”
He did not ask what was to be revived.
For the answer could only be the ‘house’.
“I don’t know yet. However, I intend to hold out in the capital a while longer.”
The moment he saw the mischievous smile on Rora’s face that she had worn as a child, Jack felt a slight chill run down his spine.
Their dear young miss never seemed to realize it herself, but whenever she made that expression, she would cause massive trouble.