Around the time Crocell, ranked forty-ninth, was slain, the twelve nations of the Human Realm were consuming time as energetically as ever.
A domed meeting hall with soaring ceilings.
Right now, it was close to a battlefield. The nobles' faces were ugly with fury. They hadn't drawn weapons, but they were pouring every insult they could think of onto one another. All of them were the empire's highest-ranking ministers, yet not one of them cared about preserving dignity.
Today, they had clashed over the military system. The Princess faction demanded that, if the other side wanted to pass the motion, they must immediately disband the foreign mercenary unit hired by the imperial household. The Prince faction replied that it was "an extremely difficult matter." Translated into everyday language, this roughly meant "go screw yourselves."
In response, the Princess faction answered, "That is truly regrettable," which could just as accurately be rendered as "then get the hell out, you bastards." Naturally, the motion regarding the military system spectacularly exploded in midair. What the nobles were now screaming at each other was, in essence, the aftermath of that splendid fireworks display.
"Your wife doesn't even have tits!"
"What poppycock is that? My wife has magnificent breasts—magnificent breasts ten times finer than your wife's, I dare say. It's your wife who has those hideous blemishes on her backside, if anything."
"What?"
The mustachioed noble furrowed his brow.
"How would you know that?"
The fat noble spoke.
"Because I saw them with my own eyes. Not only did I see them with my eyes, but I touched them with these hands, and not only did I touch them with my hands, but I even licked them with my tongue. Honestly, she was a terrible woman! I could never understand how a sorry excuse for a man like you could maintain a sacred marriage, but after seeing your wife, my curiosity was finally put to rest. You two are truly a match made in heaven, I do say."
The fat noble nodded with a smug "Mm-hmm." The mustachioed noble's face turned deathly pale. Wait—this bitch—here I was wondering why she hadn't been nagging me lately, and it turns out she'd been getting it from behind with a roaring bull all along...?
"Your wife wasn't exactly a prize either. Sure, she had big breasts, but that was the extent of it. Big breasts, yes, but her face was something else entirely. And her weight—who knows why she was so heavy, she might as well have been a dairy cow. While we were at it, she kept kissing me passionately without letting up, and I damn near got crushed to death."
These were the words of a third party—the bald noble. He belonged to the same faction as the mustachioed noble. When the fact that his wife had been sleeping around was publicly exposed in one fell swoop, the mustachioed noble was dizzy with shock, and the bald noble had stepped in to rescue him, unable to stand by any longer.
"A-are you insulting my wife right now?"
The fat noble's nostrils flared. Unfazed, the bald noble shrugged.
"What? You insulted his wife too, didn't you?"
"I challenge you to a duel!"
"Fine."
The bald noble nodded.
"But go duel that man first before anything else. That's the proper order of things, if you ask me."
The imperial princess seated in the seat of honor watched this entire spectacle unfold. No, she wasn't watching. She had both hands covering her face.
Elizabeth Athanasia Evatrie von Habsburg. She had already been granted the rank of countess, was hailed as an unprecedented genius at the age of sixteen, and was praised as the hope of the Habsburg Empire. The silver-haired imperial princess, however, was at this very moment in the depths of despair...
Those nobles were the top leadership steering the Habsburg Empire. They were elites who had received every conceivable caliber of high-level education since childhood. In other words, they were the "best" the Habsburg Empire had to offer. If this wasn't a nightmare, then what was?
The Imperial Supreme Council had descended into utter farce.
"No... fighting two people at once, how cowardly."
"Being called cowardly isn't really a problem for me. I actually enjoy being called cowardly. To be honest, every time someone calls me cowardly, my nipples get a little tingly."
"Good heavens, how dreadful... to think that bald marquis is a masochistic pervert."
At that, the bald noble suddenly erupted with a shout.
"Don't you dare insult masochism—!"
The nobles chattering nearby were startled. They turned to stare at the bald noble. The bald noble was famously glib-tongued and obnoxious, but he never lost his temper. The fat noble was startled too. He stammered.
"W-what kind of tone is that toward someone of equal standing?"
"You're the one with the bad tone!"
The bald noble's bare scalp flushed crimson red.
"Insult me all you want. Insult my wife for all I care. But I will not tolerate anyone insulting masochism!"
"H-hey now... have you lost your mind? Masochism, what have you... isn't that all just perverted nonsense?!"
The surrounding nobles nodded in agreement. Both the prince faction and the princess faction nodded without distinction. Masochism was perverted—there was absolutely no room for debate on that matter. Emboldened by this miraculous display of unity, the fat noble spoke with renewed vigor.
"Enjoying getting beaten by others and getting sexually aroused by it—if that's not perverted, then what is? Playing around with other men's wives like that fat fellow over there is practically gentlemanly by comparison. No, there's at least some romance in sleeping with another man's wife! Masochism is just plain perversion!"
The nobles nodded once again. This time too, it didn't matter whether they belonged to the prince faction or the princess faction. The reason was simple. They were all of one party when it came to sharing each other's wives. They were noblemen, and hunting other men's wives was precisely the sort of entertainment befitting a nobleman.
"Hmph."
The bald noble wasn't cowed. He snorted and spoke.
"Romance? What a joke. You don't even know the first thing about romance—you know nothing of what true romance actually is! You lot play around with childish little games and then go around thinking you're living romantic lives."
The nobles murmured among themselves. Their expressions were deeply unpleasant. Perhaps they could have forgiven having their political beliefs denied—but having their sexual romance denied was absolutely intolerable.
"Drag that bastard out!"
"How dare he make a mockery of the Supreme Council of the great Habsburg Empire!"
"Sue him immediately for the crime of insulting the Empire!"
Shouts erupted from every direction. They raised their heads and flushed red with fury. In this vast domed hall, there was exactly one person—Princess Elisabeth—who was slowly lowering her head further and further down. Making a mockery of the Habsburg Empire's Supreme Council—that's not just the bald noble, that's every last one of you, you insatiable bastards…..
Of course, the princess was the exception among exceptions. The vast majority were screaming as though they were ready to peel the scalp off the bald noble's head right then and there. From the bald noble's perspective, he was Socrates stepping into the Athenian courts to proclaim the truth—nothing more, nothing less. Feeling himself a guardian of truth—and with a clear, unwavering gaze—he spoke deliberately and distinctly.
"Masochism, I hereby declare, is the pinnacle of sexual romance. Compared to that, adultery is the bottom beneath the bottom of sexual romance—a thoroughly base act. You fools! What grand meaning could adultery possibly hold? It breaks nothing but the laws of society. There is no love in it."
The bald noble clenched his fist and thrust it upward.
"That's right. Love! Adultery is full of nothing but selfishness mistaken for love. And what of masochism? What about it? To enjoy masochism, the very first thing you need is a partner willing to be the sadist. Someone willing to beat me, bind me, trample me. Such a partner is truly rare and precious… Next, think about the most fundamental act of masochism—bondage. Just imagine, right now, that my two hands are tied with rope!"
He cried out passionately. Truly, he was passionate.
"No matter what you do, you can't get free… Your heart sinks! Yes, bondage is so frightening that it makes your heart sink. And to make it worse, it's not me but someone else who ties me up and refuses to untie me… That fear is bound to be enormous! To allow this. To show absolute, complete trust in the other person. No—to trust one another! This is what masochism truly is!"
The nobles looked at each other with dazed expressions. Wasn't the argument surprisingly compelling? They began to lend the bald noble their ears. He was riding the momentum.
"Everyone has a desire to be tormented. Everyone carries at least a small desire to have someone conquer them, to ravage them completely… Isn't that right, you hypocrites!"
That was true. The nobles of Habsburg, who were more honest than anyone when it came to sexual desire, nodded their heads. It was true enough. I sometimes wish someone would pound me from behind like a beast too, feeling that heavy weight through my whole body… a certain count murmured in a daze, unaware of the baron beside him who was horrified by the remark.
"Why do we take pleasure in respecting the law? Why do we hear the cry of conscience when we follow ethics? If it isn't because every one of us carries sadistic and masochistic natures within us, then why else would that be? I solemnly declare before this assembly—as every ethic contains a trace of masochism, so too must every masochism contain a trace of ethics! To grant what the other person desperately desires, to willingly spank the other's behind—if that isn't love and respect, then what on earth is?!"
The fat noble collapsed into his seat with a thud.
"Th-This can't be… You're telling me I had it wrong this whole time? Masochism isn't perversion — it was love all along…?"
The bald noble smirked at the corner of his lips.
"That's right. Masochism is the pinnacle of sexual romance! To call an act so brimming with love 'perversion' — now who's the real pervert? That would be you. Truly pathetic. You who know nothing of love — truly pitiful."
Thunderous applause erupted from the assembly hall.
The nobles had been swept up before they even realized it. They were deeply satisfied — having listened to a magnificent speech for the first time in ages, and especially one that offered such a brilliant argument on the subject of sexuality. Some even declared it the finest speech heard at a recent High Council session. Only, only the imperial princess clutched her head, her skull throbbing with pain.
"I-I cannot accept this!"
The fat noble, who had been painted a pervert practically overnight by a pervert of all people, trembled with rage. He spoke in a low voice.
"Masochism is not the pinnacle of sexual romance."
"Hmph. The loser tries to put up a fight."
"No! I recognize the sincerity of your earnest pursuit of sexual romance. I pay you my heartfelt respects… However, I absolutely refuse to agree that masochism is the pinnacle of sexual romance."
The bald noble furrowed his brows.
"You refuse to agree? Ha. So then what — adultery and promiscuity are the pinnacle of sexual romance? Now that's a mighty impressive pinnacle."
"No!"
The fat noble shouted, his voice blazing with fury.
"The pinnacle of sexual romance is incest! And not just any incest — the love shared tenderly between an elder brother and a younger brother, that is the pinnacle —!"
……
The assembly hall froze.
The nobles gaped in horror, their mouths hanging wide open. Even the guards, who were supposed to maintain impassive expressions at all times, gaped wide open. A silent chorus — one worthy of being called a Symphony of Horror — was being sung from every agape mouth in the hall. Even the self-proclaimed guardian of masochism, the bald noble himself, had his soul utterly drained by this earth-shattering statement.
"Just stop already, you lunatics…."
The princess muttered, feeling as though her skull was about to split apart. It was a voice so laden with anguish and sorrow that it was hard to believe it belonged to a sixteen-year-old girl. Her magnificent silver hair somehow looked washed out and listless, as though all life had drained from it.
However, the princess's murmur was far too faint. No one heard it. In fact, even if they had, they would have deliberately ignored it — including the fat noble who had just advocated for incest.
The fat noble carried on with his speech.
"The essence of love lies precisely in the transgression! Acts that society does not permit! Acts that others find morally repugnant! Those are the impregnable walls. The value of romantic love lies in scaling those fearsome walls for the sake of love. Take the love story of a noble and a commoner. Why is their love considered noble?……It's simple. Because their families opposed it. Because they pursued love in defiance of their families — because they proved that love is more precious than the wall called family — their love became noble."
The nobles nodded subtly. That did sound like a reasonable point. Emboldened by their reaction, the fat noble spoke with renewed vigor.
"Indeed. The higher the wall, the greater the value of the love we claim. The harshness of the wall only serves to prove the worth of love. When the one you love is poorer than you, and yet you love them all the same, that love becomes noble. Look — is there any barrier as enormous as homosexuality today? And what of incest? Is there any barrier as colossal as incest? Then tell me — does there exist a love that scales a barrier as vast and overwhelming as homosexuality and incest combined, a love between brothers? There does not. And is there any love as magnificent as the love between brothers? There is not! Absolutely not!"
The fat noble spoke with an expression of bottomless sorrow.
"Just how deeply must they love each other to love as brothers……? Imagine how fierce that love must be. Perhaps a grief as heavy as the weight of the continent itself crushes down upon it. They would anguish and anguish over it. Why am I like this? Why do I love my brother? This shouldn't be happening, this shouldn't be happening……"
The fat noble's tone was so desperately earnest that people could not help but imagine that love. Their chests tightened. How much must one love to feel that way?
"They would try being deliberately cold to the one they love. They would rush to a temple and pray to the god of love. 'O God, why did you grant me such a love? I would rather have hatred be worth its weight in gold than this. Please, take this love from me, take this burning heart……' And yet, even so, they cannot stop loving……!"
Tears welled up in the fat noble's eyes. Moved by his plaintive voice, the nobles' hearts stirred. Ah, could this truly be a great love?
"Like a flood that cannot be held back! Like a summer typhoon that cannot be resisted! The love of these two brothers simply cannot be suppressed! What does this mean for the world? Through their love, they prove that no ethic, no law, no emotion in this world is greater than love! They show with their own lives that love is the greatest thing of all! In this bleak age — an age where even yesterday's allies are slaughtered like flies for the sake of political conviction — how could the love between brothers not shine brilliantly……?"
The fat noble gazed into the void with eyes brimming with tears, as though he might burst into sobs at any moment.
The assembly hall was cloaked in silence. It was not a heavy silence. The nobles were moved. Yes, that's right, someone whispered. That is what love is. No matter how much society and others oppose it, it does not bend. And that is precisely what makes love great. Yes, the people murmured to one another, swept up in emotion. I think I'll start loving my brother too. I'll dote on my younger brother. In bed, that is. Yes, that's right.
"……."
The bald noble who had argued that masochism was the pinnacle of romantic love stepped forward. He approached the fat noble and extended his right hand.
"I concede. Your victory."
"No. There are no losers here."
The fat noble smiled radiantly. It was a smile so pure and beautiful that it was hard to believe it belonged to a man in his fifties.
"We are all winners, for we have acknowledged one another's convictions."
"Hah, I suppose so……"
The two men shook hands. At that same moment, a roar of applause erupted. Some noble whistled. In this place, at this very moment, there were no factions of the Prince, no factions of the Princess. There was only tolerance. In an era of the Empire's decline, they had finally reached a concord after shedding countless seas of blood and tears. A miraculous, grand accord was forged there.
Save for one person. The Princess.
"…Charles."
The Princess called out to the knight standing behind her. The knight could not answer. He too had been moved by the speech and was clapping enthusiastically. Only after the Princess called his name a second time did he snap back to attention.
"Charles."
"Huh? Yes, yes! Your Highness!"
"Take those buffoons out of here. Immediately."
Knight Charles faltered, as if troubled.
"Um… Your Highness. One of them is the real power behind our Princess faction."
"Does he not know that himself?"
Princess Elisabeth let out a hollow "Hmph." It was the look of someone who had given up on the world entirely. For a sixteen-year-old girl, it wasn't an expression one ought to wear, but it suited her perfectly.
"No, I suppose he doesn't want to know… To think the real power of the Princess faction is a man who committed both incest and homosexuality. If the Temple dogs found out, they'd strip off their robes and start dancing on the spot. They might even declare today a holiday. Charles. Beat those buffoons."
"With… with my bare hands, Your Highness?"
The Princess shook her head firmly.
"No. With clubs."
"I… I will obey."
Charles bowed his waist. He immediately approached the main culprits of the disturbance. He grabbed them by their collars. Before the people could stammer a protest, he dragged them away. The two nobles could not resist the knight's monstrous strength and were hauled straight out of the conference room.
"Uwaaaargh!"
"Gack, gahack, hack!"
Shrieks for mercy echoed from beyond the conference room. It was a pitiful sound. Beads of sweat began to form on the foreheads of the nobles remaining in the hall. The stirring emotion and goodwill that had swept through the room moments before had vanished somewhere, replaced only by a chilling northern wind.
A moment later, the knight returned. He took his place behind the Imperial Princess with a composed demeanor, as though nothing had happened. There was a bloodstain on his right cheek, but no one here was bold enough to point it out.
The Imperial Princess spoke.
"We will move on to the next agenda item. Let us discuss the Black Death."
The nobles nodded enthusiastically.
============================ Afterword ============================
Part 2 Begins.