WeTried Translations x Flame Comics

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 84: 14. The King's Silence (2)

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During the roughly two weeks Ivan was hospitalized, Elizaveta did not visit his room even once.

She simply shut herself away in her office, as though she meant to follow her father's example of never leaving the palace.

Instead, she sent Dmitry.

"Look at the thickness of this peel, Miss Isabelle. At this rate, you'll never get married. Good heavens, you've diced the flesh into cubes."

"How am I supposed to peel it any thinner than this?!"

"Hm? Shall I show you?"

Dmitry took the paring knife and apple from her, then began rubbing at it with quick strokes. He looked less like he was peeling it and more like he was polishing it.

Before long, an apple sat on the plate, peeled in one unbroken strip so thin that the peel was nearly translucent.

"Ta-da!"

"That's insane..."

Isabelle stared blankly as she lifted the apple peel with one index finger. It was thin enough to crumble at a touch.

"Does the Counterintelligence Command put people through bride training or something? How did you do that?"

"Hehe. There's a terrifying secret behind it."

"It's one of the torture techniques."

Ivan spoke as though he were tossing out a stray comment, his expression bored.

"A basic skinning technique. There shouldn't be much call for it in this day and age, yet you've kept your touch, Dmitry."

"Come on, it's all about staying prepared. I bet it'll come in handy soon enough."

"...Soon?"

"Well. This is highly classified, but..."

Dmitry glanced at Isabelle and tilted his head.

"Miss Isabelle, could I borrow our captain for a moment today? This is official business, after all."

"Y-You're going to torture Mr. Ivan?!"

"What? Even if I came at Mr. Ivan fully armed, I'd be the one getting tortured..."

"Isabelle, go home."

Ivan spoke sternly to Isabelle, who had puffed out her lips in a sulk.

"Don't you have things to prepare?"

"Mr. Ivan, you're really serious about this."

"I'm always serious."

"That's the problem, you're serious about those weird pickled vegetables. Fine, fine, the civilian will take her leave!"

Grumbling, Isabelle left the hospital room. Dmitry closed his eyes briefly and listened to her footsteps fade, then his expression hardened as he moved the apple aside.

Pavel promptly began eating the apple Dmitry had set aside with relish.

"Have you noticed that the mood in Pritchenkaya has gotten a little strange?"

"The mood?"

"Well... the Counterintelligence Command is outside the city right now. For training."

Dmitry looked reproachfully at Pavel. Pavel shrugged and finished his apple.

"How many direct attacks has the city suffered this year already? Two terrorist attacks on trains, one terrorist attack targeting students near the city, one demonfolk raid inside the city, and then that gentleman..."

"Hey, show your senior some respect, rookie. Which class are you from, anyway? Ivan, that brat wasn't originally from the Royal Guard, was he?"

"...Then there was Pavel's astonishing attack. Now the King of Droan personally invaded. Wow. Even through the entire war, Pritchenkaya has never been hit this badly."

Dmitry carefully pulled an envelope from inside his coat. It was an order stamped with the royal seal, or more precisely, Elizaveta's personal seal pressed into the wax.

As Ivan tore it open and began reading, Dmitry added an explanation.

"Especially since that major incident at Saint Yansk University, which Her Highness personally oversees. The court nobles have started thinking the bond between the Counterintelligence Command and Her Highness has become somewhat... strained. In fact, Her Highness has driven the entire Counterintelligence Command out of the city under the pretext of training. So it looks like a reprimand."

"So it looks like one?"

"Yes, so it looks like one. And recently, you got beaten up by Einar..."

When Ivan's eyes fixed directly on Dmitry's brow, Dmitry hurriedly continued.

"...You were hospitalized after that fierce battle of wits. So we, um, spread a rumor that the Berserker King, enraged by the Counterintelligence Command's excessive operation of foreign intelligence networks, personally lodged a physical protest."

The Counterintelligence Command specialized in domestic intelligence rather than foreign intelligence. The Foreign Ministry was Alexander's domain, and Krasilov had been on the brink of civil war.

That made the Counterintelligence Command skilled at gathering intelligence on domestic nobles. Information also flowed both ways, even when it did not appear to.

Being able to gather information also meant being able to plant false information. That was most of what the Counterintelligence Command did.

Therefore, spreading rumors and manipulating public opinion could be called the Counterintelligence Command's true role. Torture, kidnapping, terrorism, and sabotage were really just extras.

"So people are gradually starting to think Her Highness has lost her political backing. The Foreign Ministry hasn't been fully brought under control yet, the military except for the Capital Command is still declaring itself 'neutral,' the Counterintelligence Command has been 'neglected,' and Saint Yansk University keeps blowing up at every opportunity."

"What about Enrika?"

"Ah, she's busy with something else right now. Adding that to everything else, Her Highness is, in any case, having her leadership somewhat... questioned."

"She intends to prune the branches?"

"Yes. A gardener is needed."

There was no need to read the order. Ivan was an experienced agent who had seen this kind of situation often enough.

There was only one reason a ruler deliberately revealed weakness. It was a test of loyalty.

The nobles of Pritchenkaya were not stupid. When the princess, who had seized complete power after Alexander's mysterious "disappearance," suddenly declared a constitutional monarchy, every noble bowed low in unison.

It must have been a kind of propaganda. Even while relinquishing explicit authority, she was effectively declaring her confidence that she could command the entire country.

But that was no longer the case. The princess's power had suffered devastating blows over the past few months, and the nation was, after all, a constitutional monarchy.

From the nobles' perspective, it had become plausible that they could establish a constitutional monarchy in the truest sense of the term.

"Matchmakers must be flocking to Her Highness."

"You have no idea. Every sort of vermin is desperate to continue the royal bloodline."

"How kind of them."

Ivan nodded.

With royal authority collapsed, the most attractive option available to the nobles would be a marriage alliance with a princess who appeared to have lost her political backing.

Marrying into the royal family, then using their elevated power as nobles to usurp royal authority and rule the kingdom, was hardly an original idea.

And that meant...

"They're writing their own death lists."

"Yes, how kind of them."

Dmitry nodded with a snicker. The nobles sending matchmakers to the princess now were, in other words, ambitious people who wished to usurp royal authority.

The list of these prospective prince consorts was no different from a list of execution targets standing before Elizaveta's gun.

Ivan slowly rose as he tidied his things. He was already in perfect condition.

"Hand over the list. If Her Highness wants branches pruned, it shall be done."

"No, Her Highness wishes to resolve the matter in a more old-fashioned manner."

"...An old-fashioned method?"

"She said she'll handle it according to the old laws of the court. You haven't finished reading the order, have you? Keep going!"

Ivan looked down at the order he had stopped reading. Half of it was occupied by greetings full of complicated political rhetoric.

Skimming through it, he found odd content near the bottom.

-Therefore, Vanka, I have prepared a position for you. As I considered what I could do for you, I happened to notice a clause stating that your pension cannot be paid in full because your origins are too humble.

Krasilov's military pensions were astonishingly paid according to social status.

Despite roughly twenty years of military service, Ivan had struggled to receive his full military pension. He had been born a tenant farmer.

-So I intend to grant you an appropriate position. Viscount Yermof of the northern colonial territories has sadly lost his third son. From this day forward, you are Yermof's third son. Congratulations. I have offered your father considerable compensation.

Hm. So I'm a noble now.

Why all of a sudden?

-You are now one of my suitors. You would ordinarily lack the standing to become Krasilov's prince consort, but am I not, remarkably, a true ruler unconcerned with rank and lineage? Under the august laws of this kingdom, royalty must also be judged by the same standard. Your proposal has been accepted through legal procedure.

Apparently, I had proposed to the princess as well.

Ivan nodded.

-No matter how old a law may be, it is sacred national law containing the words of our ancestors. I intend to make a declaration based on court regulations. According to the regulations promulgated by my fifth-generation ancestor, Andrei Fyodorovich Krasilov, I will decide my prince consort through a duel.

Ivan now understood all of the princess's intentions.

Even with a death list in hand, she could not simply execute nobles at will. That would have been impossible even in the days when royal authority reached the heavens.

Quietly dealing with them one by one would be difficult as well. The nobles were not fools. If the princess's suitors began to "disappear" one after another, the nobles would likely recognize her scheme and devise another plan.

The other plan high-ranking nobles backed into a corner might attempt would ultimately be a coup.

With the frontier military and provincial nobles, except for the Capital Command, still of uncertain loyalty, Krasilov, which had been on the verge of civil war, could turn into a powder keg at any moment.

The poison of "democratic revolution" Alexander had sown was surely still raging beyond the king's domain.

So, a duel in accordance with the law.

And duels in this primitive premodern society were usually fights to the death.

"When?"

"They begin in five days."

"She moved quickly."

"It would be troublesome if word spread beyond Pritchenkaya. If provincial nobles start trying to get a piece of it too, things will spiral out of control. We need to clean up Pritchenkaya first, then deal with the rest one by one."

"Is that why the Counterintelligence Command was moved outside the city?"

A trained agent never assigned only one objective to a single action.

As the commander of such trained agents, Elizaveta had already established additional objectives from a broader perspective.

First, she would properly train the Counterintelligence Command to make up for its recent intelligence failures.

Then she would make the training look like a reprimand, creating the impression that she had lost the command's loyalty.

And one more thing, she would naturally deploy the command's agents outside the city and strengthen their intelligence network among the provincial nobles.

It was astonishingly precise and tidy work. Ivan nodded in satisfaction.

"She's becoming an excellent ruler."

Since ancient times, an excellent ruler was not someone who received their subjects' loyalty. A truly excellent ruler created circumstances in which their subjects had no choice but to be loyal.

From that perspective, Elizaveta was perfect. Machiavelli would weep if he saw her. Ivan felt quietly proud.

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"Did Vanka have anything further to add to my proposal?"

"No, Your Highness."

"Hoo... hehehe..."

Elizaveta smiled faintly in the darkness.

A well-trained agent never pursued only one objective at a time.

Every objective Ivan had predicted was, of course, true.

But what if there was one more thing Ivan had not anticipated... and what if it was more important than anything else?

"Vanka. With this, you will have no choice but to become my consort. Let me congratulate you in advance... Hoo... hehehe... hehehehe!"

This operation had been planned on the assumption that he would win the "suitor's duel."

In other words, if he won that duel... he would have no choice but to marry the princess!

Dmitry did not dare look at Elizaveta as she laughed ominously. He lowered his head.

Such a master of schemes and stratagems was our ruler. Ah, the country's future was so bright.

* * *

Of all races in this world, the elves were the most skilled at foreign intelligence. As previously noted, elves were masters of Mind Sorcery.

By actively using friendly rapport-building methods such as Getting Friendly (brainwashing) and playing pranks (memory alteration), the elves had built a meticulous intelligence network across nearly all of the Allied Kingdoms.

Therefore, after learning of the enormous issue that "the princess is looking for a husband!" and the astonishing foreign custom that "goodness, humans choose husbands through duels...," the elves immediately began pondering how to use this for "the benefit of intellectuals."

For reference, "intellectuals" meant elves. The word "intellectual" was surely too difficult for humans. (That was how kind elves were to lower races.)

One influential noble's daughter, who learned of this information at the Pritchenkaya Elven Social Club, trembled in bewilderment at the news.

"Lord Petrovich was actually a noble...?"

What did it matter if someone was a human noble? It was only the difference between a purebred dog and a mutt. Elphihara was a bold young elf with a very open mind, so she did not care about the bloodlines of lower races.

But this issue was somewhat of a problem.

"Lord Petrovich entered the suitor's duel?!!"

To beat that man, it seemed like I would need to bring my father...

But if he won... didn't that mean he would get married?!

Elphihara crumpled the "List of Participants in the Krasilov Royal Suitor's Duel" in her fist and screamed.

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Footnotes:

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