The Reluctant Imperialist - Chapter 148

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 148

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Exploring Prozen (2)

I rented a one-room place in Prozen.

I only needed somewhere to stay for a week or two.

"...It's cramped."

Was this a prison?

Even setting aside my days as a fugitive, when the streets themselves were my home, this was exactly the size of a basement cell.

The monthly rent for a room this small was 1,300 livres. In imperial dollars, that was around 1,000.

College students had it rough too.

I unpacked first. Terminal. Wiretap device. Communicator. Pistol. Dagger.

Some Prozen cash too. I did not bring the Ebenholtz longsword. A weapon that conspicuous could get me identified.

Srrrk-

I pulled open the curtain by the window. Right in front of me, the national university spread into view.

"..."

I stared at it, lost in thought.

Before regression, this had been a turning point in history. One of the most famous failed assassinations.

Around this time in Prozen, there had been assassination attempts on two giants: Defense Minister Louis Marceau, and Bernard, Prime Minister of Yursled in the eastern states.

But the assassin's bomb failed to detonate, and the assassin was shot dead on the spot.

"There is no failure."

This time would be different. I would make the assassination succeed.

The targets were anti-imperialists, the main force that would later unite Prozen and Yursled.

Weakening the enemy before war was something that naturally had to be done, and above all-

No matter how much I thought about it, I still could not shake the suspicion that Izenheim had its hands in this incident.

* * *

At the national university, among the clutter of flyers plastered along one corridor, one poster stood out.

[For the Reconstruction of a True Nation - "Revision Society" Recruiting New Members]

[Prozen's "Republic" Is Clearly Wrong!]

[Location: Estirigie Hall Basement Room 112]

"Hm."

Prozen's republic was wrong... that piqued my interest.

I headed there.

Estirigie Hall was one of Prozen's old buildings, and Room 112 was at the far end of the basement.

Knock knock-

I rapped on the door.

Creeeak. The moment it opened halfway, stale cigarette stench poured out, and a gaunt man stuck his face through the gap.

"Who are you?"

"I came after seeing the poster."

He gave me a quick once-over, then twitched his brows.

"Name?"

"Felix."

"...Come in."

I stepped inside. The room was very cramped. Smoke hung thick in the air, large protest sheets were strewn around, and three men and two women sat inside. They all looked sharp and hard.

"If you want to join our Revision Society, you need a one-on-one interview with the chief."

The man jerked his chin at a separate office door deeper inside.

"Show me your student ID first."

"Yes."

I handed it over.

"Felix. Third-year military studies... took leave for three years?"

"Yes."

Third year, three-year leave. Perfect for the setup that I knew no one at this university. Military studies had no graduate program either.

Without much suspicion, he knocked on the inner door.

"Chief. New applicant."

"...Send him in."

The man opened the door. I stepped in and paused.

Honestly, I had expected some murky-looking brute, but she was a woman with curly hair, pale skin, and a youthful, almost cute face.

"You want to join the Revision Society?"

Unlike that young face, her voice was rough, like her throat was full of phlegm.

"Yes."

"Sorry, but."

She smirked and pointed at me.

"I know your type. I can tell just by your face, you're red to the core. Socialist Party rat."

"...So I'm a spy because I'm too handsome?"

"..."

She had no comeback and just worked her lips.

Quite a character.

I smiled faintly.

"Everyone's insides are red. You can't judge ideology by appearances."

"Funny."

The republic naturally had both light and shadow. No state system in this world was perfect in the first place.

Prozen was binding itself with the shackles of "ideology." Socialist Party, People's Party, Liberal Party, and every other faction locked in extreme conflict.

Maybe ideology was both freedom's greatest strength and its greatest weakness.

"Let's talk."

I sat across from the chief.

"Get out. Who told you to sit? Out!"

"I said I want to join, so why are you trying to throw me out?"

She knit her brows tight.

"A guy who took leave for three years is suspicious. Why should I have to take you?"

I nodded, took out a small box, and set it on the table.

"During those three years, I studied abroad in the Empire."

"Studied abroad?"

"Yes. Then I got lucky and hit big on an investment."

I opened the lid. Inside was a mana stone worth around 300,000 dollars.

The chief's expression wavered.

"Now I've returned to my homeland, and I'm looking for a stage to spread my ideology."

Staring at the brilliant, high-purity mana stone, she bit her lip.

"Come to think of it, I still haven't heard your name, Chief."

"..."

She tore her eyes away from the mana stone and stared straight at me.

Then she spat out her name.

"It's Clara Magal."

I repeated the name in my head.

Clara Magal.

I did not know Clara, but I knew Magal. It was in my memory from before regression.

Because in the future, the leader of an armed group that carried out terror in Prozen while siding with the Empire was named Kura Magal...

By coincidence, that leader had been a woman too.

"...Yes."

The national university really did have high standards, and with standards like that, the talent it produced was impressive.

"Nice to meet you. Felix Renoir."

Looks like I had found the right person.

......

"We're being oppressed."

On a remote walking path at the national university, among sparsely trafficked woods, Clara Magal walked with veins standing out in her neck.

"The republic is trash."

It was an extremely radical statement, but I listened with satisfaction.

"Look at the Empire's moves right across the border. The Empire is the one becoming a true nation."

A strange feeling came over me.

Looking at the Empire from faraway Prozen.

Looking at Prozen from faraway Empire.

They each saw only one side of the other, admiring and hating at the same time.

"Hey, do you even know Maximilian?"

"..."

My name came out of her mouth.

I cleared my throat.

"Of course you don't. Military studies guys just think and move exactly how those useless Socialist stooge professors tell them to."

Clara took a cheap cigarette from her pocket and stuck it between her lips.

"Prozen is rotten to the core. Fuck, those old raccoon bastards in the Socialist Party took massive losses from Kanillan speculation and dumped it on innocent citizens in the name of taxes, while stuffing their own guts."

The fallout from Kanillan had reached Prozen too.

"But look at the Empire now. Taxes on the lower class dropped sharply. The state is taking money from those filthy parasite races like Mer, Izenheim, and Edellem and handing it to its own citizens!"

The chief kicked a stone.

"Mer and Izenheim especially. Those cockroaches are the real problem on this continent."

At that moment, I suddenly found this friend likable.

"Izenheim... you say?"

"Yeah. Mer and Izenheim. Both have one disgusting trait in common. They're vermin who lend money they don't even have and suck up interest!"

In reality, many Izenheim worked in finance. Capital was both the strongest weapon controlling this continent and the strongest weapon for building cartels.

Izenheim had naturally realized that power of money early.

"...Why Maximilian, then?"

"Ha. This is why military studies guys are hopeless."

She shot me a look full of contempt.

"The bills proposed in the Empire to legally confiscate the assets of those things that aren't even human and drive them out, all of them were led by Maximilian. I read that declaration and was impressed."

"Ah. I see."

A curious thought crossed my mind.

Even outside the Empire, there were voluntary heroes contributing to humanity's survival without realizing it.

"Chief, then how many members sympathize with our Revision Society?"

If so, I should help this kind of group grow.

"Quite a lot of people support what we stand for. Not just college students. Hospital directors, doctors, nurses, entrepreneurs, small business owners, self-employed workers... the real citizens who work with blood and sweat. The real citizens getting their money unfairly taken by those Socialist sons of bitches."

They were clearly furious with the current system.

"But the number of official members who actually act is small. The 'real' ones willing to sacrifice themselves, willing to get blood on their hands like us, are rare."

"I see."

"...So."

Suddenly she stopped walking. Click. A familiar chunk of steel slipped out of her pocket.

It was a pistol.

"Then I'll ask you again, Felix Renoir. Where did that mana stone you gave me come from?"

"..."

Clara Magal was truly serious. Serious about building an organization, and her convictions were deep and solid.

"Hm..."

I considered my answer for a moment.

Then again, did I need to make it complicated?

"Didn't I tell you I studied abroad in the Empire?"

"So?"

"I met many famous figures there. As you know, imperial nobles have quite a taste for Prozen art and intellect. And those people desperately hope a leader with a similar 'great ideology' will rise here in Prozen too. I received sponsorship from them."

A smile passed through her eyes, but it was not approval.

It was a sneer.

"Really? Then how do you prove that? You could be a Socialist Party spy sent to hit us. And that level of mana stone isn't impossible for those bastards to get either."

All of that had been spoken in Imperial Aran. Even her pronunciation was fluent, nearly native.

Clara Magal was indeed smart.

"Well? Surprised? If you didn't understand, get lost."

It seemed she had not intended to kill me after all, and she put the pistol back inside her coat.

I shook my head.

"No. The imperial people told me."

My answer was in the imperial language as well.

"The Empire gives opportunities only to those who prove themselves."

The chief's gaze flickered.

"In the three years I was away in the Empire, a group with ideology this excellent rose up in Prozen."

"..."

The wariness in her expression eased a little.

"The imperial sponsors are looking for someone like you, Chief. So accept me. I think I can bring in even more support by traveling between Prozen and the Empire."

"...Your words are slick."

She snorted. She had dropped some suspicion, but she was not ready to trust me all at once.

Clara Magal walked out past the university's main gate.

I watched her from behind and smirked.

"...Unique."

She was very unusual, but I saw no reason she would not be useful to me.

* * *

- Exploring Prozen, Day 2.

I sat at an outdoor seat in front of a sandwich stall and scribbled on a napkin.

[Felix, need parent background.]

[Make it that his parents were exploited by a loan shark firm controlled by Izenheim capital and committed suicide.]

I left the note on the table. A little later, an employee in an apron served my sandwich and took the note away.

They were intelligence agents from the Gennen branch office. My unofficial field agents now numbered in the hundreds. They did not know who they were working for, and I did not know who among them worked under me.

Now they would fabricate a perfect background for the Felix identity.

I chewed my sandwich and walked down the street.

Step. Step.

Right away, a tail latched onto me from behind. Revision Society friends.

Too systematic for a university group. They were still clumsy because they were students, sure, but if they were this meticulous, they were worth supporting.

"...This sandwich is good."

I looked at the neatly folded square sandwich and admired it.

Later I should take a few back and have the chef analyze them.

- Exploring Prozen, Day 3.

Early weekend morning. Comere Boulevard, where Minister Louis Marceau and Prime Minister Bernard would pass for their talks.

I went to the failed assassination site.

"...Why did it fail?"

I muttered as I checked the route.

In this place packed with welcoming crowds, the assassin threw a bomb. It failed to detonate, and the moment he drew a pistol, the guards shot him dead.

"More than the failure itself..."

Security had been too loose. It was strange from the start that the assassin had even been given time to throw a bomb.

"Hmm..."

After surveying the area for a long time, night fell, and I returned to my room.

"Hey."

A cool voice greeted me there. The room had already been trashed.

"Nice to see you."

It was Clara, chief of the Revision Society.

I had expected this. I had already cleared out confidential documents and equipment, so they only rummaged through fake documents, a self-defense dagger, communicator, wiretap device, and similar items.

"What the hell did you come here for? And what is all this stuff?"

Clara asked while fiddling with my dagger. Behind her, a Revision Society member glared at me.

"Hm..."

I looked at the chief quietly, then ran a hand through my hair.

"Chief. Could you ask your people to step out for a moment?"

Clara Magal frowned, then signaled her subordinates. The members obediently followed her order.

"So you really were a Socialist Party lapdog? You bastard."

As she waved the dagger around, I gave the exact opposite answer, and partly an honest one.

"No. I'll tell you. I'm preparing for an operation."

"...What? An operation?"

In a group like this, "operation" meant assassination or terror.

"I can't tell you in detail."