According to the great Dà Yìn rites and system, conferring a duke’s title was an extremely solemn and serious affair.
When the Dà Yìn dynasty was founded, the act of conferring dukes was marked by choosing an auspicious day and building a grand altar to offer sacrifices to Heaven and Earth.
The Son of Heaven himself would bathe and fast for an entire month in advance, preparing himself to preside over the grand ceremony.
But those were the original dukes of the dynasty—founding lords who carved out their own territories.
Compared to those “founding character dukes,” Lú Qiào and Lú Tài, who were being granted duke titles—a Tiān’ēn Duke and a Tiānyáng Duke respectively—were far less prestigious, and their titles didn’t carry the same weight or significance.
Besides, do you really expect the current Emperor Jiāyòu, Yìn Yuán, to starve himself, fast, and purify his heart for an entire month just to stand in the altar’s wind and rain for hours on end, presiding over a grand ceremony just to confer titles to these two?
No way—that’s absolutely impossible!
So when Yú Chánglè loudly called out Lú Qiào’s name, Lú Qiào hurriedly smoothed his official robe and strode into the Fúyáo Hall.
With a small eunuch whispering guidance right by his side, he performed formal bows to the Empress Dowager and the Son of Heaven.
Lú Tài did the same, stepping forward in turn to perform the ceremony.
This uncle and nephew exchanged a glance—Lú Qiào smiled politely with a nod, while Lú Tài’s expression stayed hard as stone, his dark face not revealing a hint of emotion as he looked at Lú Qiào deeply.
Yú Chánglè personally drafted the imperial edict, which the Empress Dowager used the imperial jade seal to authorize.
The edict was then handed to a tall, loud-voiced eunuch of the Rites Ministry.
The eunuch stood respectfully, unfolded the scroll, and with his voice rich in tone and cadence, began solemnly reciting the titles and rewards granted to Lú Tài and Lú Qiào.
Lú Tài’s rewards were not many.
According to Yìn Yuán’s secret intentions, this was an opportunity to quietly promote Lú Tài from Tiān’ēn Marquis to Tiān’ēn Duke—a way to vent the old resentment from when court ministers had pressured the emperor not to grant Lú Tài a duke’s title back then.
Truth be told, as far as Yìn Yuán was concerned, he wasn’t happy about Lú Tài’s contributions last night.
He’d rather have seen those rebellious factions storm the Grand Chancellor’s mansion and carve up those ministers! If he could have seen some strikes land on Zhū Chóng’s body, that would have been a joy beyond compare.
But instead, Lú Tài cleaned up the rebels and saved Zhū Chóng along with several other court officials—and Yìn Yuán wasn’t pleased at all!
The Secret Palace Surveillance was very swift with information.
Before dawn, Yìn Yuán had already received a detailed report—while he was battling with ghosts and demons in the imperial city yesterday, a group of important court ministers had been watching from a distance, just waiting to see him make a scene at the Grand Chancellor’s residence!
So Lú Tài’s promotion in rank was just a token; a little vanity, a grant of three thousand households for his fief, and that was all.
Lú Qiào’s rewards, however, were hefty and substantial.
As the eunuch read out Lú Qiào’s conferral item by item, the ministers below Zhū Chóng at court were dumbfounded—jaw dropped, eyes wide in disbelief, some quietly burning with fury, shooting daggers through their gaze as they swept across Lú Qiào.
How generous the Son of Heaven was to Lú Qiào!
Lú Qiào was granted the title Tiānyáng Duke.
The Ministry of Finance was to allocate funds to build his new mansion on fifteen hundred acres of land in the Yǔshùn district, while the Ministry of Works was tasked with providing manpower, funds, and materials under the supervision of the imperial master artisans to construct the Tiānyáng Duke’s mansion.
Outside the capital Hàojīng, he was granted a copper mine, a tin mine, and an iron mine in the southern part of the city, on Mount Xiǎocāng, which was under the Ministry of Works’ control.
He was further granted three thousand li of pasture on the southern slopes of Mount Xiǎocāng under the same administration.
He was also granted three royal estates producing silver and wheat in the seventh-tier market district of Hàojīng; together these estates included close to two million mu of fertile farmland and a total fief population of ten thousand households—amounting to roughly one hundred thousand people.
Following Dà Yìn’s usual customs for conferring titles to royal clan members one step lower than “lord,” Lú Qiào was granted a robe embroidered with the mighty Kunpeng pattern, a full set of ceremonial arms including gold knives and silver swords, gold spears and silver halberds, gold saddles and silver stirrups, and gold horsewhips with silver reins.
He was given thirty-six Divine Warrior generals as his honor guard, with their salaries paid by the Ministry of Works.
He was also granted three thousand elite infantry of the Yǔlín (Feathered Forest) Army to act as his personal escort, their salaries likewise covered by the Ministry of Works.
Lú Qiào was further granted a “Jié” (a ceremonial baton of authority), a large white wolf-tail banner, four blue wolf-tail banners, and eight black wolf-tail banners, as well as a nine-fold blue silk parasol—according to Dà Yìn’s usual precedent for dukes, this allowed him to raise a private army and suppress rebels, with all expenses self-funded.
As the eunuch chanted out these provisions one by one, many ministers in the hall changed their faces repeatedly.
To confer a duke’s title and build him a mansion—that was fine.
If the Son of Heaven was willing to spend money on this, then so be it.
A mansion of fifteen hundred acres was a bit excessive, but if the emperor didn’t mind, the ministers naturally wouldn’t either.
Granting productive farmland, mines, and pastures were just normal perks.
But the new duke was still a young greenhorn, probably with pockets emptier than the polished floors of the Fúyáo Hall.
If the emperor didn’t give him perks, Lú Qiào wouldn’t even be able to maintain the servants and retainers needed to keep up the appearance of a duke.
Designer robes with Kunpeng embroidery, golden swords, or thirty-six divine warriors as ceremonial guards—all that was just “vanity.” Nothing too serious.
In Dà Yìn’s history, there had been an emperor who was so infatuated with a consort that he actually decreed her father receive the full honor guard appropriate to a prince—a rank higher than “lord.”
So it was all just vanity.
Sure, some ministers might be a bit jealous or green-eyed, secretly cursing Lú Qiào as a flattering villain or a favored sycophant—but that was about it.
Three thousand troops of the Yǔlín Army suddenly transformed into Lú Qiào’s bodyguards?
A bit much, but still acceptable.
A proper duke of Dà Yìn must have some presence—without a force of three thousand guards, he couldn’t even meet and greet people with any dignity!
But granting him the Jié!
What was a fake Jié?
During special times, a fake Jié was basically equal to the imperial authority of the Son of Heaven!
The "Yuè" axe embedded in the Jié was the same golden axe that Lú Tài wielded—the power to slay first and report later, holding life-and-death authority.
The “Jié” baton itself was slightly less potent than the axe: the power to slay first and report later was nearly nil, but the bearer was considered an imperial envoy.
In critical moments, it allowed the bearer to raise troops and suppress rebels in the emperor’s name!
Granting Lú Qiào three kinds of great banners and the nine-fold blue silk parasol was even more outrageous!
In Dà Yìn’s military system, commanding officers divided troops by banners:
A black wolf-tail banner could command ten thousand troops.
A blue wolf-tail banner could command thirty thousand troops.
A white wolf-tail banner could command one hundred thousand troops.
By granting Lú Qiào three such banners, Yìn Yuán was effectively handing him command over three hundred thousand troops.
As for the nine-fold blue silk parasol—this was an honor and a privilege.
In the army, anyone traveling with such a parasol was to be considered one rank above all except for the Grand General.
Of course, compared to the old-established lords of Dà Yìn, three hundred thousand troops wasn’t much.
Some ancestors of other lords held only “Zi” or “Nan” titles but commanded armies numbering in the millions.
But to have three hundred thousand troops under a duke’s authority and fiefdom was still reasonable.
The problem was that many of Dà Yìn’s current dukes—like the Lord of Lái’s estate—already possessed five, six, seven, or eight private armies of that size just in their own territory.
Yet these private armies could not step outside their land; stepping beyond was considered treason.
But with these imperial banners, Lú Qiào could rove freely across Dà Yìn’s entire realm with his three hundred thousand soldiers, all perfectly legal!
Private armies without banners were guard dogs; with banners, they were hunting wolves!
Even worse, the emperor gave him the Jié!
This meant that if anyone ever crossed Lú Qiào, he could show up anytime with his three hundred thousand troops and cause trouble, while the other party would be forced to take it lying down!
When this imperial reward was announced, not only did the whole court bristle with shock and resentment, but even Lú Tài couldn’t help but glance at Lú Qiào repeatedly.
As fellow trusted ministers and saviors of the emperor, Lú Tài himself held only one blue wolf-tail banner and could command a mere thirty thousand troops.
At most, to avoid suspicion, he only ever brought around ten thousand soldiers with him on trips.
Lú Tài looked at Lú Qiào with a strange pang in his heart—“Is it possible that from now on, I’m no longer the emperor’s most important confidant?”
The eunuch’s chanting continued.
Having laid out the major provisions, the remaining rewards were petty but flashy trinkets.
For example, the emperor granted Lú Qiào a quantity of copper coins, gold ingots and silver ingots made by the Imperial Workshop, gold sunflower seeds and small silver badges to reward his servants, imperial brocade, silks, horse carriages, sedan chairs, and various bronze vessels.
There were also rare gifts like pearls, coral, tortoise shells, and agates tributed from the Four Great Provinces.
Though it was said the current emperor was a miserly penny-pincher, he was genuinely generous to the trusted ministers he dote upon.
Or perhaps the shelf of odds and ends gifted by the provinces was too full, and Yìn Yuán wanted to clear out some inventory?
At the end of the eunuch’s recital, there were even over a thousand giant logs of golden silk nanmu wood, rosewood, and huanghuali—each over twenty zhang long, with diameters exceeding eight chi!
Lú Qiào’s face twitched again and again.
With his experience and knowledge, he could only figure these rare woods might be good for making coffins; beyond that, he had no idea what to do with them!
But they were the emperor’s “heavenly grace.” What choice did he have but to receive them?
For various odd rewards and curiosities, the eunuch spent a full fifteen minutes reading them out.
Then, even stranger things appeared—thirty thousand jin of white pepper, one hundred thousand jin of black pepper, eight thousand jin of borneol, three thousand jin of frankincense, and two thousand jin of ambergris.
Lú Qiào could only clench his face and forcibly maintain a dazzling smile.
Was he supposed to use all this spice to smoke cured meat?
Lastly, Yìn Yuán gave Lú Qiào a tremendous surprise—he granted him thirty well-mannered nursing maids from the Jiuqu Courtyard, one hundred palace maids proficient in qin, chess, calligraphy, painting, tea ceremony, and cooking for close personal service, three hundred protocol palace maids skilled in etiquette, social graces, and communication, and six hundred palace maids who were obedient, discreet, swift, strong, and healthy for labor and errands.
Obviously, these maids and attendants were all destined for Lú Qiào’s newly built ducal mansion.
Palace maids trained systematically within the palace were not something you could buy with money anywhere else—they were far superior to civilian girls hired off the street.
The entire court looked on with red-eyed envy.
Lú Qiào felt a little overwhelmed.
He was mulling over the fact that nowhere was it mentioned that these palace maids’ salaries would be paid by the Ministry of Works—did this mean he had to support them himself?
Suddenly, he heard the emperor’s laughter:
“Lú Qiào, Old Yú could only think of these rewards for now. You think about what else you want. Since things are going well today, I’ll approve it all together.”
“So that later, when someone accuses me of over-generous rewards, or calls you a flattering villain or a favored sycophant, you’ll already have what you desired. It won’t be so easy to get good things in the future.”
At least three hundred ministers in the great hall couldn’t help but snort coldly.
(End of Chapter)