WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 111

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For the Emperor (2)

Kanillan Independent State.
VIP consultation room at the bank, 「Kronen Schatzinsel」.

Ren, the first commander of Akarius, checked her thick pay envelope and gave a bitter smile.

"Heh..."

Akarius was now under 「Kronen Schatzinsel」's management. In return, they cleaned up every mess Ren had made, and her salary was now higher than when she had owned the group herself.

The quality of their commissions had risen sharply.

The mission difficulty had not changed much, but the CEO's negotiating ability was simply on another level.

'If I grind like this for five years, I can probably recover every loss.'

Ren focused only on field command as commander, while the new CEO handled all mercenary contract operations in her place.

The members liked that setup too.

"Have you confirmed it?"

"Yes."

Ren slipped the pay envelope into her inner pocket.

"By the way."

She carefully pulled out an item from her coat.

"...This."

A palm-sized jewelry case.

Stolen goods, or something close to battlefield loot.

It was an unwritten rule in the mercenary world. If life and death were decided in battle, you always took what the dead had on them.

Would a bank even accept something like this...

"Yes. Confirmed."

Her tension was pointless. They accepted it without even asking where it came from. That was one of the privileges of a VIP.

On top of that, every transaction at 「Kronen Schatzinsel」 went through anonymous accounts, so there was no better place to process loot.

"You will be notified of the appraisal result later."

"Understood. Then I'm off."

Ren left the VIP room.

"...Lot of Imperials."

She muttered while scanning the lobby.

Maybe because the rumors had spread, imperial nobles were everywhere, even men who looked like Imperial Guard types. All of them wore tense faces, trying to open accounts and get VIP badges.

Ren watched them for a moment, then walked out of the bank.

"Kanillan changed a lot too."

Kanillan, once a sleepless city of lights, had now settled down. Real assets had moved into the place where the bubble burst, and the economy looked like it was being rebuilt from the ground up.

In Ren's eyes, it was still far easier to live in than the Empire.

"That bastard probably made a fortune."

Still, every time she thought of Maximilian, all she could do was sigh.

"Lucky bastard, seriously... Hm?"

At that moment, baggage was being moved out from inside the bank. Tightly wrapped boxes, apparently headed somewhere for delivery. Through gaps in the wrapping she caught flashes of ornate frames.

"Artwork?"

Some had no bread and starved to death, while others bought and sold art and burned money.

The world was absurd.

* * *

The weather was gradually warming. Mountains and fields were filling with fresh green.

Before I knew it, a new summer had come, and the innovations from Lorenzo Academy, where I had invested without limit, were starting to explode one by one.

They developed a new household air conditioner that circulated cold air using medium-purity mana stones, and farm machines powered by low-purity mana stones rolled across the fields of Hermes Province.

Above all, mana stone detection technology leaped forward, and new veins I had never known about were being discovered in rapid succession.

Which meant the numbers in my accounts were climbing nonstop.

Srrrrrr-

Sentinel Order office. Cool air poured from the newest model air conditioner, and I asked the officers around me.

"How is it?"

"It's great!"

"Insanely comfortable."

Everyone looked happy. The number of officers had grown to more than a dozen.

Knock knock.

Right then, a visitor came in. Kairon.

"Max, perfect tim... what?!"

He wiped sweat, then froze at the chill air in my office.

"What is this!"

He dropped all composure and just soaked in the wave of cold air.

"No, an air conditioner?"

"How did you install it? You couldn't have broken through the wall."

Air conditioners had already been invented, but they could not be used in the Order. The Order building's magic conflicted with the mana-engineering structure of existing units.

I pointed at the window.

"It's a window unit. Lorenzo Academy developed it."

"..."

A remarkable invention from Lorenzo Academy, one whole window converted into the air conditioner itself.

Kairon whipped his head toward me like a primitive man who had just discovered fire.

"Th-th-th-"

"I'll introduce you to the supplier."

"...Thanks. Ah, first, Max. Good timing."

Kairon returned to his main business. He fluttered a mission file and signaled me.

"Let's go."

"Yes. This way."

I guided him into the inner office. He handed me the file first.

A strange schedule was written inside.

[ Perimeter Protection Schedule ]

13:00 ~ 15:00 : Constant perimeter watch, Central District 33 food alley

15:30 ~ 17:00 : Perimeter watch around Arte Museum

18:00 ~ 20:00 : Close protection near VIP seats, Royal Opera House

It looked like child's play for a knight mission, but the line under it was vicious.

[ Special Authority: If suspicious individuals are found, summary execution and power over life and death granted ]

"This is not ordinary protection duty."

"Right. Looks like a core figure of the imperial household is planning to go out."

Kairon stroked his chin. I had a good idea who that "figure" was, but I did not say it out loud.

"...Like some brat from a novel, maybe."

There was bite in Kairon's words.

"It might mean we're supposed to soothe her and send her back inside."

"No."

I shook my head.

"I think they're going to put her forward from now on."

"Put her forward?"

"Yes. Just my guess."

The Emperor knew his own weakness well. His appearance was not Aran at all. That was his biggest complex.

If he had looks like mine, with his personality, he would have shown himself off all day.

Either way, he shut himself deep inside the palace, but with war coming, diplomacy was essential. To calm neighboring states and deceive them at the same time, the Empire needed a "beautiful face."

"Hm... well, we got this mission. We can't refuse."

"Yes. Understood."

"By the way."

Kairon frowned, looking unusually curious.

"Where exactly is Yulian, and what is he doing?"

"...He is probably handling his own work."

I was looking forward to it too.

Before long, Operation Path of Dreams would begin.

...

Riiiiing-- Riiiiing--

Center of the Empire, afternoon in District 33 where sunlight fell straight down.

I was watching the special protection target.

“She is now in visual range.”

She was walking through the food alley in District 33, packed with stalls. Plain clothes like a commoner, and a beret pulled low to hide her blond hair.

"..."

More than her, my eyes kept drifting to the faces of the lower-class people around us. Maybe I was imagining it, but they looked fairly bright.

I thought it was because of taxes.

In the Empire, lower-class income tax had been over 30%, but this tax law revision had brought it down sharply.

“This is B03 sector. No abnormal signs.”

Reports from intelligence agents kept coming.

I also moved within a close radius and kept watching her. Her formal escorts followed tight behind, but she bought grilled skewers from a street cart. She drank fruit juice too. The escorts behind her looked restless.

“Max. Did you clear the stalls?”

Kairon's voice rang in my ear.

"We completed full inspections starting three hours before the target's arrival. It is safe."

“...Confirmed. By the way, what impression do you get? I heard she likes art, especially painting. Sounds pure and bright.”

I hear she likes dogs too, like you.

Kairon had gathered quite a lot of information, but I did not answer.

I checked my watch.

"I will move to the museum first. Please handle the rest."

“Right. Understood.”

I turned and ran toward Arte Museum.

My two legs would be faster than most cars.

...

Arte Museum.

I reached my surveillance point. I expected it to be empty, but there were quite a few visitors.

"...This composition is very unique."

"The color is intense."

"As expected, very imperial... truly fitting for the birthplace of Impressionism."

The language I heard sounded unfamiliar. I could still interpret it, of course. Prozen language.

Tourists from Prozen, a western great power, were admiring the artworks.

"There are many high-level pieces here."

"Ah, that is what is unfortunate for me."

"What do you mean?"

"This museum was almost certainly going bankrupt... somehow they secured funding from somewhere."

Outwardly, the Empire was making conciliatory gestures toward western countries.

In truth, many western states despised the East no less than the Empire did.

They called them a different-rooted people, "inferior humans," based on language and ethnic origin.

Nationalism was not exclusive to the Empire. The Empire was simply huge, and so openly brutal, that it stood out more than everyone else.

"I actually came on this Empire trip to acquire these paintings."

"Ah, I see?"

"Such a shame..."

Then they walked over to the painting I was looking at.

"What is this title? I can't read it."

"Hm... I don't know."

"What, professor, and you don't even know this?"

"It is not Imperial language. It is ancient Aran."

"Ancient Aran?"

Ahem. The urge to show what you know is hard to suppress.

I spoke casually.

"It is 'Coronation.'"

They flinched and turned to me at once.

"I mean the title."

I pointed at the painting and added an explanation.

"It depicts the coronation of an imperial emperor. The red carpet symbolizes loyalty, and the golden crown symbolizes glory. But if you look closer, the shadow under the crown is very dark. That was Master Astal's intent, to express the weight and loneliness of power."

They listened in a daze. Or maybe they were more shocked by the language itself.

I kept going and pointed at another painting beside it.

"That one is 'Men Hauling a Ship.' In rough waves, the muscle texture of men dragging a ship onto land is vivid. It is a work depicting the Empire's founding myth."

"...Thank you. By the way, your Prozen is very fluent?"

A middle-aged gentleman asked in admiration.

"It is basic literacy for an imperial noble."

I answered calmly. He studied my face with interest, then smiled.

"Pleasure. I am Jean Pierre, a professor at Prozen National University. If this is not rude, may I ask your name?"

Jean Pierre.

A name I knew. He was fairly famous in academia, and I had read his books too.

"Ah, Professor Jean Pierre."

I smiled.

"I've read them. Your papers and books."

His eyes widened.

"Ah. Is that so?"

"Yes."

I held out my hand. Jean Pierre, caught off guard, took it.

"Pleasure to meet you."

I gripped his hand firmly and gave my name.

"Maximilian Ebenholtz."

At that moment, the air froze.

Jean Pierre's expression hardened. Even the breathing of his companions around him stopped for a second.

"Professor Jean Pierre. You wrote quite a lot of analysis on the Gennen incident. You even published a related article in the paper recently."

"..."

Wasn't the title The Most Violent Oppression.

That was the image the continent held of me now. An imperialist who rode tanks and crushed a city. They feared me, and they were terrified of me.

No reason to be sad.

I was going to become exactly that kind of person.

"Ah..."

Jean Pierre could not continue. He only looked at me, still tense.

I spoke gently.

"You do not need to freeze like that. Anyone can analyze a matter."

Only then did Jean Pierre take a deep breath and steady himself.

"...I see. So it was Sir Maximilian."

He spoke with composure.

"If it is not rude, there is one thing I want to ask. As a scholar studying history and politics, it is a question I cannot suppress."

I nodded willingly.

"I want to hear from you directly... why you suppressed Gennen that violently."

Scholarly curiosity was this useless.

Because they did not know. Because they could not understand. The far worse future that would have unfolded in Gennen if it had not been me.

"You already know. A fire has to be trampled before it grows larger. Before wildfire sweeps in, you burn the field first so there is nowhere for the flames to stay."

So what I had to tell them was always the same.

"It was all, only for the Empire."

"...I see."

Jean Pierre took out a notebook, wrote a block of notes, and bowed.

"Thank you."

"Yes, Professor. If something happens again, we will meet again."

Jean Pierre gave a bitter smile at my words. He did not answer.

Did that mean he never wanted to see me again.

"Then, goodbye."

Pierre hurried off with his companions. Every word they muttered was about fear, looks, and dread.

-tok.

Then, footsteps suddenly approached from a blind spot in my vision.

I turned that way. My heart wavered slightly, but I did not show it.

Before I noticed, "she" was standing next to me.

"...For the Emperor."

She extended a finger and pointed at a painting. It was a portrait depicting the ancient Empire.

"The name of this canvas."

Then she looked at me again and said:

"Not for the Empire."

As if correcting me.

"For the Emperor."

I kept my expression calm and nodded. She only twisted her lips into a small smile, then moved to another gallery without a word.

"..."

She definitely had an aura.

The Emperor's heir loved art. She enjoyed beauty and was curious about the lives of commoners.

Yet loving art did not make someone innocent.

Loving commoners did not make someone pure.

No one could look into the deepest part of a person based only on the words and behavior shown on the surface.

Before the regression, Princess Justine ended her own life with the Emperor in the deepest place of the imperial palace.

The worst war criminal on earth, and an accomplice in genocide.

She was carved into history as the eternal symbol of the Empire's downfall.

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