However, in this empire that had abolished the aristocracy, even using “lord” to refer to a minister, let alone an individual guard or member of the army, was seen as a vivid reminder of nobility culture and how harmful it was, so it was avoided. As such, even if it was to pay respect to Mina, it was excessive for Tomon to go out of his way to refer to her as “lord.” His attempts at flattery were much too blatant.
Still, although Zen understood what Mina wanted to say, he defended Tomon. “That’s just how much he respects you and, by extension, His Excellency Cummel, who holds the most power in this jurisdiction. I think the chief has a loyalty that’s admirable for a bureaucrat.” From the bottom of his heart, he backed up his boss as if to say, He’s definitely not a bad person.
Mina probably didn’t really care about the sincerity of Tomon’s character, so with a brief, “I see,” she changed the subject. Instead, she quickly broached her main topic.
Rather than it being out of impatience, that action was probably the manifestation of her practicality as a military officer. “Are you familiar with His Excellency Stoga, Sir Zen?”
“The prefectural governor of Alona?” Zen confirmed it just to be sure, a habit fitting of a model government official who valued accuracy in his work.
There were three prefectures within the state of Cylin, Nazalf and Alona being two of them. The three prefectures were positioned in a triangle in the northern, southern, and eastern regions of the territory.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I can’t really say I know much about him,” Zen answered frankly.
They’d had to depart the imperial capital the very next day after Zen’s demotion to Cylin, so he hadn’t had the free time to thoroughly look into the details of the state’s circumstances. What he did know were mostly things he’d happened to hear in relation to his duties back when he’d been a central bureaucrat.
Cylin was a remote region at the southernmost point of the empire, so what he’d heard was especially little. Furthermore, he’d been determined not to work hard after he’d come to Nazalf Prefecture, so he hadn’t gone out of his way to learn about any matters unrelated to the village town hall.
Even so, if he shook out the bag containing his meager knowledge, he did know, for example, that Stoga was the young prefectural governor who’d been recently appointed two years ago. In other words, unlike Cummel, who’d been appointed by the previous emperor, Heinri, Stoga was a high official who’d been appointed by the damned current emperor, Jemma II. For that reason alone, Zen honestly didn’t have a good impression of Alona’s prefectural governor.
That wasn’t to mention the fact that if you took into account that he’d been selected at the exceptionally young age of twenty-seven, and with a lackluster professional history to boot (he hadn’t even worked in the head offices before), his appointment seemed even more dubious.
His father was also a wealthy merchant who was notable even in the imperial capital. Zen really didn’t want to consider this a possibility, but there was a chance that Stoga’s father had bribed the present emperor and prime minister in exchange for Stoga’s current position.
If that were true, he was totally a “bought official.” Didn’t the current emperor and prime minister understand that having a hand in that would be the start of the country’s collapse?
No, this isn’t something a common government official in the sticks should be worrying about. Zen shook his head slightly. How long was he going to act like a central bureaucrat?
He once again looked to Mina after noticing her watching him with a questioning gaze. “So what about His Excellency Stoga?”
“He’s having a birthday party the week after next. I attended it last year, and it was a fabulous soiree. It might be an even bigger event this year.”
“Just to be sure, this isn’t an official event, right?”
“Of course not. It’s His Excellency Stoga’s personal birthday celebration.” She told him that Stoga would gather his personal invitees, and they’d enjoy a meal, pleasant conversation, and ballroom dancing. That meant, as a public figure, there wouldn’t be any issue. No matter how magnificent his party was, he could do what he liked so long as he used his own funds to celebrate his birthday. As a prefectural governor, he should have a significant salary, and he might also have support from his parents.
“However, when I attended the party last year, it was as an official representative of Nazalf’s prefectural government office. I accompanied His Excellency Cummel.” She purposefully called her own uncle “His Excellency,” probably to keep a clear distinction between her personal and work life.
Zen also nodded. “Indeed, it’s better to have a good relationship with any neighboring prefectures. In order to achieve that, you have to first start with getting the most powerful individuals of each prefecture on good terms with one another.”
“It was especially because it was His Excellency Stoga’s first birthday party after being inaugurated. His Excellency Cummel couldn’t refuse when he was invited.”
It would be ideal if everything could go well with reason and logic alone; sadly, however, humans were creatures that were far from perfect. In order to move public business along smoothly, you couldn’t disregard personal human relationships, even when they should by all rights be unrelated.
“However, His Excellency Cummel is extremely busy,” she continued. “He’s attended His Excellency Stoga’s party once already, so he’s ordered that he’ll only send out a representative this year.”
“It does take a week to go to and come back from Alona City, after all.”
On top of that, it’s official business. You’d want to take into account the possibility of any unforeseen incidents, and seven days doesn’t leave enough wiggle room. You’ll want to have at least ten days off. Zen’s government-official brain immediately launched into calculations.