CHAPTER 11 - FIFTH ASCENDANT
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They say a king's power lies in his crown. But I say, it lies in the hands that put it there.
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"Your father is a very busy man."
"He is?"
"Undoubtedly."
The estate's library carried with it an air of benign neglect. Kuro's nose subtly twitched, scrunching up at the scent of old parchment in a slow dance with decay, and the dust that had claimed every flat surface as its territory. Yet, she remained silent, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might be useful one day.
Their initial objective had been to seek Juliana's chambers, only to discover them stripped bare of any personal belongings as if her existence had been erased. Thus, their path led them to the library—a place where Juliana sought solace in the written word, where she found comfort in the company of parchment ghosts.
Groaning under the weight of age, the shelves were packed with historical annals of bygone eras, forgotten wars, and heroes long devoured by the passage of time. The volumes, yellowed by years and worn by the unyielding onslaught of time, held wisdom beyond price.
To Juliana, these were not simply books; they were sanctuaries of untapped knowledge, wellsprings of answers to questions yet to form on her lips. At this juncture, the library adopted an additional role—a refuge, a sanctuary. A place where she could shelve her burdens, letting them gather dust alongside the ancient tomes.
They found a secluded corner in the most remote part of the library, hidden near the back wall. The journey from her father's study had been one of silence. Not that their interactions were usually filled with small talk. After all, Kuro was a servant, and Juliana was her mistress. Such was the order of the world.
And yet, a seed of curiosity had been planted within Juliana, watered by Kuro's statement. She remained largely in the dark about her father's affairs. Their estate, strategically placed at the crossroads between warring states and the Protectorate, served as a sanctuary for weary travellers and adventurers. A vibrant oasis where tales and goods were bartered, a place to recuperate before the onset of the next expedition. This rendered her father a busy man, a fact she was well aware of.
As she surrendered herself to the comforting hush of the library, Juliana broke the silence. "What exactly do you mean when you say Father is very busy, Kuro?"
"Do you really not know what your father is involved in?"
Kurosaki's words bore an uncharacteristic sharpness and a distinct lack of 'nya', yet Juliana discerned no malice in her tone. It was less an indictment and more a stark assertion.
"I am well aware. He administers the manor, supervises the estate, and governs our territories."
"Nyah," Kuro nodded, her ears subtly twitching. "You comprehend his responsibilities, but do you grasp the nature of his actions?"
Juliana tilted her head. "Is there a difference?"
The demihuman lapsed into a brief silence, tail swishing in thoughtful rhythm. "Perhaps not."
"You mean he's doing things that need a lot of work? So he's really busy?"
"That's one interpretation," Kuro conceded with a sigh. Her eyes meandered towards the window, absorbing the scenery outside. The sun had relinquished its hold to the night, and stars had taken their sentinel positions in the clear sky. "It's probably quite complicated," she murmured, more to herself than to Juliana.
Even in their fleeting interaction, Albert von Wickten was a man shrouded in minimal mystery. His emotions, like a well-rehearsed play, performed openly on his visage—transitions from surprise to irritation, then to scorn were all too palpable. Indeed, he was a creature of emotion, his feelings donning him as vibrant and unmissable. Yet this peculiar relationship between the father and daughter was something Kuro had not yet fully understood.
Could it be merely a byproduct of her sheltered upbringing? Juliana had never delved into the depths of Albert's obligations, nor mused on the ways he partitioned his hours. Kuro guessed that her loyalty to him was unwavering; she would surrender Kuro at her father's mere utterance, devoid of any second thoughts.
Perhaps the dynamic between them was as clear-cut as it was straightforward: Albert was her sovereign, and she, his vassal. Their bond lacked depth, nuance—it was simply a monotonous cycle of power and subservience.
"..."
Kurosaki was intimately familiar with the sensation of being at the nadir—a persistent, skin-deep discomfort, a resonance of his early days at a corporate giant. His first boss had been a man who brandished power like a cudgel, barking orders, turning the workplace into his personal fiefdom. Each promotion was merely another step on a relentless hierarchical climb, a ceaseless series of lords, each more taxing than the last.
But here, the dynamics were somewhat simpler than the convoluted politics of the corporate jungle. There was only one master, Juliana, who in turn was a puppet to her father. The complexity lay in deciphering the intertwined loyalties. They were bound by an invisible tether that was difficult to discern.
If Kuro could gradually disentangle Juliana from her faith in Albert, perhaps a path to her own advancement would emerge.
"My lady?" Kuro ventured.
"Yes?" Juliana responded, her attention drawn away from the ancient tomes.
"Is it the eldest who inherits your father's title?" Kuro watched Juliana's reaction through the veil of an inconspicuous gaze, gauging her response.
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Kurosaki watched Juliana's response under the cover of a casual glance.
"Yes, it is decided by the order of birth. Why do you ask?"
"Is there any prevailing bias against female successors?" Kuro probed further, her tone retaining its casual lilt.
Juliana paused, reflecting on Kuro's question before offering an answer, "No, it's rather the opposite. Noble families often favour female successors. They are typically more adept at wielding magical power."
"Fascinating, nya," Kuro hummed, her eyes betraying a spark of intrigue. "And your siblings? How many of them precede you?"
"I have four siblings, all elder to me, including my brother Valentin," Juliana disclosed, her bewilderment escalating over the trajectory of Kuro's probing. "Why this sudden curiosity?"
"Merely a passing interest," Kuro dismissed airily, punctuating her dismissal with a feigned yawn. "As your servant, it is my duty to familiarise myself with my lady's circumstances."
'What poor luck.' Kurosaki lamented silently. Out of all the conceivable scenarios, fate had led him down the most challenging path.
The revelation of Juliana's position in the line of inheritance illuminated the reality of his situation. As the fifth child, she was but a distant, nebulous blip on the radar of succession—an afterthought, an insurance policy for the improbable. It was no surprise that her father, Albert, dealt with her with such cavalier indifference.
Kuro's gaze lingered on Juliana, pondering the potentialities this fresh insight provided. A daring ambition had been sown; it needed only careful cultivation to blossom. The more Kuro mulled over it, the clearer a new route to power became.
The cruel arithmetic of inheritance was simple: Juliana stood fifth in line.
'Yet, what if the count could be diminished?' Kuro mused.
The thought was daring, but the potential rewards were intoxicating. With each sibling eliminated from the equation, Juliana's significance would surge, and consequently, so would Kuro's, bound to the young mistress's fortune. The prospect of elevation was too alluring to disregard.
To Kuro's discerning eyes, Juliana was a marionette, poised for a dance yet unchoreographed. It was a pity that no puppeteer had seen fit to seize her strings. It was evident that the girl's heart pulsed with an unwavering commitment to perform any role bestowed upon her—an attribute that rendered her a perfect pawn. In her, Kuro perceived raw potential—the unsculpted clay yearning to be moulded into a queen.
Still, the final word would inevitably belong to Kurosaki, the unseen hand behind the curtain.
A predatory grin danced on Kuro's lips, her eyes flickering with a perilous ambition. The stakes of mediaeval politics were significantly higher than the petty power plays of modern Japan. Discreetly removing the siblings from the inheritance equation would necessitate careful planning and execution. A single error, a solitary miscalculation could direct the merciless blade of suspicion towards him.
Each sibling, each potential obstacle to Juliana's—and by extension, Kuro's—elevation, required careful examination. Their habits, weaknesses, aspirations, alliances—every shard of information could be moulded into a weapon. An insignificant preference might reveal a vulnerability; an offhand remark could uncover a hidden alliance.
Furthermore, winning Juliana's trust was of paramount importance. Her unwavering allegiance to her father was both her greatest strength and most exploitable weakness. Kuro would have to artfully reveal Albert's true character without overtly challenging Juliana's beliefs—a delicate act of balancing on a tightrope. For the time being, a comprehensive review of the estate's financial affairs seemed a prudent first measure.
Kuro would need to fulfil numerous roles to ensure his mistress's reliance—mentor, confidante, protector. He would make himself indispensable—a task requiring a set of skills not naturally within his domain. Nevertheless, the more Juliana relied on him, the more influence Kuro would wield, enabling him to better steer her towards the path he desired.
And then there was the matter of Albert, the patriarch, the king reigning over this particular chessboard.
His task was to shift Albert's perception of Juliana—from a surplus heir, a contingency plan, into an indispensable asset. All the while, he needed to remain a silent shadow—seeing all, hearing all, yet remaining unseen.
Sitting in the hushed silence, her eyes shimmered with a cold, ruthless determination. The measured rap of knocks resonated through the room, another variable in the intricate game. Leon's voice, tinged with polite interruption, pierced his meditative silence, "Ahem, food is prepared."
Kurosaki observed Leon. A future obstacle.
To truly commit meant to abandon any prospect of a safety net. He would have to wholly submit to his role as Juliana's retainer indefinitely, sacrificing his initial plan of escape. He could discard it all—these ambitious, treacherous designs—and merely bide his time, waiting for a prime opportunity to escape. She could seek refuge among the demihuman tribes Juliana had spoken of, free to walk his own path, liberated from the shackles of servitude.
It was undoubtedly safer, but Kurosaki's spirit rebelled at the thought of settling for it.
And so, Kurosaki Kageyama was left with a dilemma.
'Could it be done?'
The girl was painfully naive—it was a ludicrous fantasy to believe he could elevate her to such a prominent position. The potential adversaries were as numerous as the stars. A plot to eliminate an entire noble family? It would arouse suspicion. And more likely, he would find himself under the looming shadow of the guillotine.
Success promised a power unprecedented, yet the spectre of failure loomed ominously—a swift and brutal end. Was he to recoil at the first whisper of adversity? Was he not capable of this task?
Why had he followed Juliana back to this estate? At first, it was the allure of knowledge—the promise to teach him the skills of literacy—abilities he had rationalised as essential for survival. To abandon her before mastering them would be premature, even reckless. But now, what stayed his hand?
The fifth-in-line. Was it possible... could it be a fragment of sentimentality? A fondness for the singular soul who had chosen to pluck him from the faceless horde of the marketplace? The idea was ludicrous. She was a tool, a stepping stone in his relentless pursuit of power. Nothing more.
Kurosaki scoffed at the notion, dismissing it with contemptuous ease.
But Kuro... could Kuro entertain such an emotion?
"…"
Beneath the imposing vaulted ceiling, amidst the scent of ink and parchment, a decision was made.
The compromise was inevitable, Kurosaki conceded. The faint hope of returning to his previous world was swiftly fading into nothingness, such dreams were more of a hindrance than a help in his current predicament.
'Very well.'
Kurosaki Kageyama would relinquish the reins of control to Kuro. His experience, his cunning, his ambition—all these were his legacy. Their application was no longer confined to the cutthroat world of corporate boardrooms, but now extended to the equally ruthless theatre of noble politics.
The demihuman's lips twisted into a pleasant smile at this parting gift, a new depth of understanding dancing in her gaze. Rising with an effortless grace, she offered a respectful bow to her lady. "It seems our presence is required, my lady."
It was but a beginning. There was an intoxicating charm to starting anew—a certain thrill. This was not a descent into obscurity but a tactical selection of battlefield.
Kuro welcomed the challenge with open arms.
She would achieve what Kurosaki Kageyama could not.