WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 142

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The World Thinks of Us as It Pleases (4)

Julius von Arensburg's annex.

On ordinary days, the place would have been noisy with his inner circle's flattery and lavish banquets. Now it had sunk into such grave silence that even breathing felt difficult.

"...There is no turning back."

This incident, the bombing attack on Leutern II.

Julius and his many loyal men had stayed up day and night, combing through every piece of evidence and every detail at the scene, and they reached only one conclusion.

'Leutern II staged this himself to persuade his father.'

Julius, too, knew Leutern I's temperament better than anyone after years of political rivalry. Leutern I was never the kind of man to spill blood recklessly, without cause or gain.

An old fox who compromised at the proper line and took practical gains.

That was why Julius had also tried to stay within bounds. He only needed to lie low for a few years.

But he had never imagined a madman would appear and flip the entire board like this.

Thanks to that, the so-called "elegant political struggle among royals" had become a joke.

"So he had been hiding that kind of venom all this time."

There had been no reason for them to push things to the brink.

As fellow royal blood, there had been no reason to force an expulsion while taking that level of risk.

It had been a fatal miscalculation.

A fallen royal house living like a parasite inside the imperial palace had exposed its weakness.

In the past, royals from ruined kingdoms had been moved around like chess pieces by the Emperor's exact calculations.

At times, they were used as a sword to check founding nobles who had grown too powerful. At times, they were used as a shield to suppress discontent from rising nobles. At times, they were merely ornaments to display imperial generosity.

Each time, the royals adjusted themselves in humiliating ways and survived. After centuries, they had finally built a somewhat firm factional ecosystem inside the palace.

Still, all of it was only a power-sharing feast.

Every night, one delicious pie was delivered from the imperial household. The noble houses of royal blood had formed an unspoken agreement to divide that pie peacefully at proper ratios.

Yet one vicious bastard had been hiding among them.

A viper who felt no satisfaction with the single slice given to him, who perfectly hid his dark greed and desire to steal from others, and sharpened his blade for over a decade while pretending to be a useless idiot.

Leutern II.

That bastard had decided to choke his rivals to death so he could eat the whole pie alone.

"He wants war."

Julius said under his breath. His anger had reached its peak, yet his mind only grew calmer.

To survive, they might have no choice but to tear out their throats first.

......

The Imperial Royal Hospital run by House Bertem, where Leutern II was admitted.

"I'm glad you're safe."

Using a hospital visit as an excuse, I went to his private room. Instead of cheap flowers or health drinks, I gave him rare gemstones that suited his taste.

"W-wow, what is this?"

"It is a gift wishing for Your Grace's speedy recovery."

Leutern stared at the gems, entranced by their brilliant shine. His eyes sparkled as he lifted his chin.

"Seriously... Max, the more time passes, the more I regret all those days I misunderstood you!"

I chose not to ask what exactly he had misunderstood.

It would only sour my mood.

"But what happened that day anyway? I think I lost part of my memory right after the blast. They said a bomb blew up under my car?"

"Yes. Please be careful from now on. The palace is not what it used to be."

I spoke in a deliberately worried tone.

"Right. Ah, and they said I survived thanks to that cube you gave me? Max, seriously, thank you."

Even after brushing past death, Leutern looked strangely bright.

A psychopath with little sense of fear. The same Leutern who, before my regression, had thrown hundreds of thousands of regular imperial soldiers into death zones, then returned to the battlefield as a commander once again.

Only now did his past actions make sense to me.

"But which crazy son of a bitch targeted me? Got any guess? Damn, this hurts. It still hurts!"

This bastard was less afraid than furious.

"Once we catch that bastard, I'll kill him."

Murderous intent burned in Leutern's eyes.

"I won't kill him cleanly either. I'll rip off all four limbs and then strip off all his skin and flesh!"

"Private vengeance is illegal, Duke Leutern."

"What... is it? Then how is the investigation going?"

"It's an ongoing investigation, so I cannot give details."

"I'm the victim here."

Leutern frowned.

"You can't tell even the person involved?"

His voice turned cold.

"......"

I quietly looked around the room. Shocked by the attack on his son, Leutern I was now deep in paranoia. There had to be bugs hidden in here.

"This is for Duke Leutern's safety."

"Ah, come on. Just tell me in secret. You look like there's some progress."

My expression.

Of course I made it look that way on purpose.

"...Then I will tell only Duke Leutern."

I gave a small cough.

"The bomb's origin is a ghost."

"A ghost?"

"Yes. A ghost bomb."

I lowered my voice and sat in the chair beside his bed.

"The metal material, alloy ratio, purity of the trigger mana stone, fuse structure. Every part was designed with extreme precision. It was clearly the work of a highly skilled technician, but when we reverse-track the source of the parts... every trail is cut off, as if a ghost made it."

"Huh... that's uncanny. Why?"

"Hard to say. They may have used parts from factories already shut down, or components that do not exist on paper. There are many reasons. It's difficult to pin down one."

First condition, factories already shut down.

Second condition, components that do not exist on paper.

The answer was Gigantes.

If Leutern I was listening through a bug, those words would leave him no one to suspect except "Julius."

"...Wow. Seriously, thank you, Max. Without that cube you gave me, there wouldn't even be bone dust left of me right now. I don't care who that fucking bastard is, once I catch him..."

Leutern trembled in rage.

I lowered my voice.

"However, Duke Leutern. I will focus only on the case. I have no interest in palace affairs or politics."

Now I would let them wage their own hidden war.

"Huh?"

"Finding the traitors who embezzled Gigantes weapons was something I had to do as a knight, even apart from your request, Duke Leutern."

"...What are you talking about?"

"What Your Grace said at the restaurant that day."

I twisted my words on purpose, aware that his father might be listening somewhere.

"Ah, that. Right. Of course that had to be done. Absolutely. You can't leave those rat bastards alone when they disrupt imperial order."

Leutern still seemed not to understand what his own signed order had set in motion.

I stared straight at him.

"Duke Leutern."

"Whyyy?"

I wanted to punch that face pretending to be innocent.

"How far do you want to climb in this Empire, Duke Leutern?"

"...How far?"

His expression stiffened for a moment.

"Yes."

Even now, Leutern was still highly useful.

Because of his stupidity, and because of the royal power coiled behind him.

"...Looks like you figured it out, Max?"

Based on the future I knew, I already knew he had ambition.

"I want to become a commander."

As expected, Leutern dreamed of pushing hundreds of thousands of regular imperial soldiers into death zones.

"How did you know?"

He looked oddly serious.

I gave a small smile.

"That kind of aura always comes from you, Duke Leutern."

I hated saying this to him, but I held back my disgust.

Think of it as tempering steel.

In the near future, Leutern might become my weapon, the one that burns the palace down.

"The kind of distinct aura that appears only in someone who looks far ahead, steadily builds inner strength, and perfectly hides his true will."

Leutern paused at my exaggerated flattery. Had I overdone it?

Even I tensed for a moment.

"Heh. You're sharp. I am a bit like that."

He soon lifted his chin arrogantly again.

I forced down the nausea rising in my throat.

"Yes. Exactly, Duke Leutern."

From now on, the palace, no.

The whole world would think what it pleased about you.

For someone like you, who wants fame and authority, that might not be entirely bad.

* * *

Lounge of Prozen National University in the Western Prozen Republic.

Professor Jean Pierre received news from Zerpa.

The fall of Zeronica Mine. The regular army coup had been suppressed, and the Republican front had been overturned by the fierce counterattack of the imperial Durkon Legion.

Still, in that process, Zeronica had collapsed into wreckage and ash.

A traditional vein responsible for a very large share of Zerpa's national mana stone production had been crushed.

That was only the first piece of news.

The second was Zeronica's reconstruction. They had mobilized large numbers of Durkon Legion personnel and Republican prisoners, clearing the debris in no time.

From the beginning, Zeronica was not a place the Empire could abandon as hopelessly destroyed like Gigantes, so that move had been somewhat expected.

But...

In Jean Pierre's view, this was where Zerpa's sovereignty and lifespan ended.

"Full-scale plunder will begin."

Jean Pierre all but stated it as fact. The faces of the professors gathered in the lounge, each a leading figure in humanities, sociology, economics, and war studies, had sunk into the same heavy silence.

They exhaled thick cigarette smoke and agonized over the continent's future.

"Reconstructing the mine. A very plausible justification. The imperial bastards just got the perfect legal excuse to swallow another country's core."

Economics professor Laurent clicked his tongue as he spoke.

"The next picture is obvious. The Empire will inflate Zerpa's debts from reconstruction costs and military support by dozens or hundreds of times, bill the royal house, then monopolize Zeronica's mana stone under the pretext of repayment."

Zerpa would be left as an empty shell forever, reduced to an economic colony of the Empire.

"Is there no variable?"

At sociology professor William's question, all eyes turned to Jean Pierre.

These days, he was treated as Prozen's special intellect, a brilliant new star in academia.

In fact, his books History Born from Individuals and Convergence of Trajectories had predicted many continental developments with striking accuracy. Most recently, his essay The Form of Aran, describing in detail his direct encounter with Maximilian in the Empire, stirred not only Prozen academia but the wider public as well.

'An imperial noble who spoke Prozen with more elegance than natives. A clean, austere figure that either ran opposite to everything he had done, or moved along the same track.'

- Excerpt from Jean Pierre's essay The Form of Aran.

"What variable would there be."

Jean Pierre gave a bitter smile.

"Say something anyway, Jean. You're the prophecy scholar."

"Not me. The people who read and interpreted my books are the prophets."

"Still."

As the name Maximilian crossed the continent, the name Jean Pierre was also spreading through Prozen.

"Well. The probability is very low, but."

Jean Pierre propped his chin on his hand and gripped his pen.

"It could change if Crown Prince Alonso somehow pulls off a miraculously 'proper' negotiation with the Empire. But against those wolves of the Empire, the chance that such a weak crown prince takes control is very slim."

If Crown Prince Alonso had backbone in the first place, he would never have approved the imperial army plan to turn Zeronica Mine, the heart of the royal house, into ashes.

"Do you all know who is responsible for this operation?"

At that, economics professor Laurent let out a dry laugh.

"If you took Professor Jean Pierre's classes, you would know. A person's path always leaves traces like fingerprints."

As he said, a person's method left a fingerprint. And few people had fingerprints as clear as this man.

"Right. Alonso would never take control against him, even if he died and came back."

"That monster again?"

The Beautiful Devil.

The Idol of Aran.

The Monster of Ebenholtz.

He had many epithets. More kept appearing lately.

Probably because his individuality was unusually strong.

"Even when people take the same action, some figures attract more attention than others."

That was what happened when someone wore the appearance humanity loved most, yet committed acts that harmed humanity the most.

Sociology professor William clenched a cigarette between his lips.

"You're the one who created the fantasy. Because of that essay, even I got curious about that knight's face."

"So now I regret it too."

Jean Pierre had never written a false line in his life, but recently he had finally realized that sometimes truth also had to be hidden.

"Maximilian swallowed Zerpa completely through this civil war. He likely judged that seating the incompetent and dependent Royalist faction was far better for the Empire than dealing with the difficult Republican faction. In reality, his judgment was exactly right."

Zerpa was a kind of war corridor. Control it, and you could use Zerpa's rugged mountains and roads leading west as if they were your own backyard, making force projection much easier.

"In other words, a single man..."

Jean Pierre picked up his fountain pen to organize his lecture materials.

Scratch, scratch.

The surrounding professors watched as the nib raced across the page.

"...now seems poised to reverse even the winner and loser of that civil war."

Jean Pierre suddenly raised his head and stared into empty space.

"But."

Deep sorrow settled in his voice.

"If the monarchy wins this civil war... Zerpa will instead be unable to escape an even harsher and more miserable cycle of exploitation."

That was the essence of imperialism,

and the balance of power between states that the Empire claimed as natural.

"Even the dignity of the knight called Maximilian, in the end, comes from imperialism itself."

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