Chapter 74: The Rulers (4) "Ludwig? Ludwig! No—where the hell did that brat Ludwig run off to?"
"Maestro, is something the matter?"
Soldiers on duty approached the gentleman in his forties who was hurrying around near the party hall and asked.
The gentleman roughly wiped the sweat streaming down his forehead and asked the soldiers,
"Ah, sirs. Did a young man with a rather nasty-looking face pass by here?"
"A young man? I just took over the shift, so I'm not sure… Hey! Craype, do you know anything?"
The non-commissioned officer tilted his head as he answered, then tapped the shoulder of the soldier beside him.
"Not really, Sergeant… Ah! Now that you mention it, about ten minutes ago, someone did run out toward the main gate."
"Oh? Do you know what he looked like?"
"Uh… I think he was wearing a black suit."
"Oh, damn it! Thanks anyway."
"Ah… yes."
At the soldier's words, the middle-aged gentleman gripped the soldier's hand, shook it once, then bolted for the main gate.
Outside the main gate, the place was packed to the brim with people of every sort.
"What is it today—some kind of special day? Why the hell are there so many people?"
After the middle-aged gentleman forced his aging body through the crowd with difficulty and finally emerged, he spotted, far ahead, a musician in a black suit standing before the people and craning to look down the road.
"…Ludwig? You little shit, honestly!"
The middle-aged gentleman let out a deep sigh, then fought his way back through the sea of people with great effort, grabbed the musician by the shoulder, and turned him around.
"Ludwig! You little brat! What the hell are you doing out here?!"
"Uh—huh?! M-Maestro?"
The musician's eyes widened in shock at the middle-aged man's thunderous shout.
The middle-aged gentleman spoke right into the musician Ludwig's face in an angry voice.
"You! The other members are all rehearsing for tonight's performance, and you slip out on your own? If you want to act however you please, then quit the court orchestra!"
"N-no! Absolutely not!"
At the maestro's words, the musician clasped his hands together, begging, and shook his head hard again and again.
"…Haa. Fine—don't do it again. But why did you sneak out of rehearsal?"
Seeing the young man who could have been his son, the middle-aged gentleman finally let out a short sigh, patted the musician's shoulder, and asked.
"That is…"
Pwooooo—!
Just as Ludwig was about to speak, far down the road an officer on horseback approached, blowing a brass horn with all his might, a white-gloved hand holding it.
"Move back! Move back! You there—do not step into the road!"
At the same time, soldiers with rifles began blocking the space between the carriage road and the sidewalk where people stood.
Behind them, cavalry carrying France's tricolor and cavalry bearing the Habsburg double-headed eagle rode past side by side.
From the corner in the distance, dozens of French and Austrian cavalry moved slowly down the street, surrounding a few young men in the middle.
"…Hah. So you ran off just to watch a French parade?"
The middle-aged gentleman looked at the musician and sighed again.
"J-just a parade?! Maestro, do you not know who that person on the white horse in the center is?"
At the middle-aged gentleman's words, the musician shot back as if he could not believe it.
The middle-aged gentleman looked again at the marching Frenchmen and pointed at the man being escorted in the center as he spoke.
"…That Frenchman on the white horse? He looks only about your age, Ludwig."
"No, Maestro! How do you not know Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon?! Maestro, are you secretly not Austrian but a British spy?"
"What? Ludwig, you little bastard—there are things you can say and things you can't. How dare you call someone British? And how does me not knowing one French name make me not Austrian? Insolent brat."
"No, even so, not knowing Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon is really not it! I keep telling you to read magazines or newspapers sometimes—stop staring at sheet music every day and go outside too. Ack!"
The musician clutched the crown of his head and groaned after being smacked by the middle-aged man.
"Hmph. He's probably just another one of your so-called Enlightenment idols. That's why young punks these days are no good. When this conductor was young, life was a battlefield! A battlefield! People were dropping dead on battlefields at the slightest thing—where was there any 'Enlightenment' then? Tsk."
"Th-that…"
"Because you're warm and fed, all these slick word-play types come out and completely fool people. Especially young ones like you—Voltaire, Diderot… Instead of that, write one more line of music, you brat."
Even as the maestro poured out his words with a scowl, the musician kept speaking with wide eyes.
"No, even taking everything you said into account—Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon is an amazing person!"
"Quiet, you brat! If you make even one mistake at tonight's performance, I'll tear you apart. Now follow me."
The maestro shook his head hard, snapped at Ludwig, then turned around.
"M-Maestro?"
"What is it, Ludwig."
"Since we're already out here, can't we watch just a little more—ack!"
"Ah, so you are Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon. A pleasure to meet you."
"Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you. Haha."
"May the Saint, the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Father guard your road ahead. A pleasure, Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon."
"Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you. Haha."
"A pleasure! Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon! I hear you too are a former honorable soldier—is it true?"
"Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you. Haha."
Handshake.
Another handshake.
Another, another handshake.
My hand is trembling. Handshakes were labor too.
Prince-elector, lord of this place and that place, duke, count, general, colonel, archbishop, bishop—why are there so many people who want to shake hands?
While I was doing this backbreaking labor, Grussy-hyung beside me kept chewing nonstop.
"…Where did the serious, dependable man from earlier go, and why is only the guy stuffing his mouth left?"
Say something.
Grussy-hyung swallowed what he was chewing down the back of his throat, then shook his head side to side as he said,
"Ahem. Guillaume, what are you saying?"
"…What, am I wrong?"
"I'm attempting a tactic that consumes the enemy's food and forces them to expend supplies."
What is this, scorched-earth?
"Ah… I see? My apologies, I misjudged you, Grand Marshal Grussy."
If war breaks out, he will probably walk in on his own and become a prisoner.
"…The atmosphere doesn't seem that bad, Your Excellency," Major Davout said as he kept scanning the room and came to me.
"True. Still, don't let your guard down too much, Major."
"Do not worry. I will not touch a single item of food today."
"Uh… you don't need to go that far. Just stay appropriately tense…"
This one is way too ironclad.
"Hey, Guillaume."
"What, Mathieu-hyung."
"Like Major Davout said, the vibe doesn't seem openly hostile to us. What are you going to do?"
"…If we can leave in the middle, it's better to slip out. I don't want to stay and end up making a sore worse by scratching it."
"Hm. Not easy."
Just then, someone approached me, took off his glove, and extended his hand.
"Ah, Your Excellency Finance Minister Guillaume—you've come. Thank you very much for accepting my invitation. I should have come to greet you when you arrived, but there were so many people that I didn't realize you had already come."
"It's all right, Duke. It doesn't matter when we meet. What matters is that we met."
I took the Duke of Brunswick's hand and said.
"Haha. Hearing you say that sets my heart at ease. Ah—do you like music?"
Music? Why music all of a sudden?
I tilted my head and asked the duke back.
"Music?"
Wearing that usual kindly smile, the duke answered.
"Today, the Habsburg court orchestra is responsible for the banquet music. If Your Excellency has deep knowledge or interest in music, would you care to listen?"
"I'd like that."
But why is the court orchestra playing not for the imperial family, but at a nobles' party?
Is this country really an empire? The way it runs doesn't feel very 'empire.' It almost feels more like a neighborhood committee of aristocrats.
"Thank you, Your Excellency. Then I will see you later."
At my acceptance, the Duke of Brunswick dipped his head lightly and disappeared into the distance again.
A moment later, Mathieu-hyung—who had been hanging back—came up to me again as soon as the duke was gone.
"What did that guy say, Guillaume?"
"…He asked if we want to listen to some music together."
Mathieu-hyung crossed his arms, tapped his foot, then spoke again.
"Hm. What are you going to do?"
"Let's listen. It's not like we have anything else to do, and we don't really have an excuse to run."
"Tsk. True."
Clap clap clap.
When the court orchestra finished a piece, the Duke of Brunswick clapped with a pleased smile and said,
"How is the skill of our Holy Roman Empire's pride—the court orchestra?"
"It's grand."
"Haha. If the French have gastronomy, we Germans have music. I'm glad you like it."
"I'm only saying what I honestly felt. That piece just now—"
"It was a capriccio. A piece composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a great figure our empire is proud of."
Mozart?
"Ah—don't tell me… that Mozart?"
"Oh, you know of him? I didn't expect France to know our Mr. Mozart."
"H-haha."
Strictly speaking… it's the Republic of Korea's school curriculum that knows him. But whatever—who cares.
"If there is anything more you wish to know about the piece, I can call over a musician."
"Would that be too much trouble?"
"Haha. You are our guest. I am only following Jesus's teaching to devote ourselves to our guest."
When I nodded, the duke called an attendant and murmured something in German.
The attendant bowed and walked away.
"Well then, while we wait for the musician, shall we pass the time with a brief conversation, Your Excellency?"
"I'd be glad to, Duke."
"Then I shall begin."
The Duke of Brunswick's eyes sharpened into a gaze I had never seen before.
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