WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 153

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Turning Point (3)

"The Imperial Civil Law for the Protection of Aran Bloodline," also known as the "Imperial Civil Law,"

was officially proclaimed.

Princess Justine proposed it herself, and the Emperor stamped and approved it with the imperial seal, so there was no turning back.

"How can an absurd evil law like this even exist?!"

Zestpol, District 39 on the Empire's outskirts.

It was home to mana engineering firms, universities, magic towers, and many other institutions, and now it had become a center of outrage and alarm over this bill.

"They're saying they'll investigate family genealogies, and if you're an inferior race or mixed with one, you'll be permanently expelled from public office and universities? Who exactly decides pure bloodlines and inferior races, and by what standard?!"

Joshua, the hot-blooded son of Zestpol University's president, shouted with his fist raised.

The president watched the window with a stiff expression and shook his head.

"...Keep your voice down. You might bring the night down on us."

At the university president's trembling words, Joshua clenched his fist even harder.

"Night" was a metaphor. A metaphor for him, the man who had brutally trampled the Gennen Autonomous Territory.

Across the Empire, including Zestpol, people feared the moon as much as the sun. Because the moon delivered the sun's will with the greatest precision and clarity.

When darkness fell, that silver light turned into a blade.

Before long, everyone on the continent who was not Aran feared his name.

"Joshua. There is a monster in Ebenholtz......"

Joshua ground his teeth.

"Don't give that man a story. We have our own road to walk."

To him, the lives of his neighbors, friends, and lovers mattered more than fear of that man.

"I'll fight. Even if this body breaks."

And so the grand ambition called revolution swelled.

......

Deep inside a private chamber of the imperial palace.

Chief Secretary Kurt Grossman smoked a cigar and spoke in a low voice.

"Anyone who opposes this law even a little, or shows even the slightest dissatisfaction, will be thrown in prison."

Kents Bertem, seated across from him, tilted his head.

"The Gennen massacre was only a few years ago. Is there really still an idiot left who'd openly defy an imperial order?"

"..."

Instead of answering, Grossman stared at Kents in silence. Kents cleared his throat and picked up his cigar.

"If they show no visible resistance, we drag it out of them and make one. They're only hiding sedition inside while keeping their faces clean. To root out those impure ideas, I've already organized a new Special Imperial Guard unit."

Results.

The violent suppression of the Gennen crisis and the political gains that followed had been monopolized entirely by Maximilian of Ebenholtz.

So if this civil law was to be enforced thoroughly and the Emperor's will carried out, the hands and feet doing that work had to be the Imperial Guard.

It was Grossman's safeguard against power concentrating in Ebenholtz.

"Yes. Understood."

"And one more thing."

Grossman casually added, crushing the short cigar into the ashtray.

"Goebel will be replaced soon. That old, useless dog is no longer needed."

A chill ran down Kents's spine, but he still put the cigar to his lips.

"...Won't that be dangerous? Leutern II will be watching."

"Which is why your role is important, Kents."

Grossman and Kents had both begun to watch Leutern.

Julius had fallen because of that man's scheme. They had no choice.

"I'll leave him to you. Stay by his side and watch him closely."

A man hiding a viper's temperament under a dull, stupid face.

He could thrust a dagger again at any time, so they could never let their guard down.

......

A dim underground storage room in Zestpol. Goods, desks, chairs, and a blackboard were crammed together, and despite the late hour, night school was still in session.

"I'll explain the Imperial Civil Law that's being introduced this time."

The teacher tapped the blackboard as he spoke. Dozens of young people packed into the cramped basement held their breath and listened.

"This evil law is bizarre and chilling at its core. The Empire has now decided to divide human dignity and worth strictly by bloodline."

The teacher wrote in thick letters on the board.

"It has no scientific basis at all."

[ 1. Dominant bloodline, Aran ]

"There isn't even the bare minimum of logic."

[ 2. Quasi-applicable bloodline that can receive Aran-equivalent treatment through loyalty to the Empire ]

[ 3. Affiliated bloodline close to Aran collateral lines ]

"It is a barbaric classification system built only for discrimination and oppression."

[ 4. Heterogeneous bloodline that contaminates the Empire's purity ]

"The core of this law goes beyond status discrimination. If just two of your four grandparents are classified as heterogeneous bloodline, or even if you merely follow the same religion, you can be branded heterogeneous bloodline at any time."

Anger filled the teacher's voice.

A vague fire with no answer and no way to put it out.

"Mer, Kenshi, Edellem, Dromon, Izenheim...... Even if they were born and raised in the Empire, just because they aren't Aran by blood!"

Zestpol's symbol was progress. In return for paying enormous taxes to the imperial palace, and under the pretext of expanding the connected underground city, they had gained privileges close to autonomy.

But before an imperial decree, they were still just a powerless frontier city.

"What do you all think of this madness?"

"It makes no sense."

One young man calmly raised his hand. The teacher nodded bitterly.

"Zestpol in particular has many mixed-blood families and immigrants. But they've shed blood and sweat with us for decades to build this city. They are our neighbors, and they are rightful imperial citizens."

A neighbor who smiled and exchanged greetings with you yesterday could lose citizenship in an instant because of one line in imperial law?

It was an outrage no reasonable person could accept.

"So we-"

Just as he continued, KWA-AAA!

The basement door exploded. A violent gust mixed with wooden splinters blasted through the room. Student screams were swallowed by the blast pressure.

"...Well, well."

Step. Step.

Out of the dust cloud, a man walked forward with one hand jammed sideways into his pocket.

Creak. Creak.

The floorboards groaned beneath his military boots.

"What, wrote quite a lot in here, huh?"

He smirked at the blackboard, then shouted.

"Hey, you fucking reactionary bastards!"

The vicious roar echoed as the Special Imperial Guard in pitch-black uniforms stormed in.

"Who the hell are you trash to run your mouths about the Great Empire's law?"

Imperial Guard lieutenant colonel Lorentz shouted as he scanned the subversives.

"Round them all up!"

The teacher stepped in to protect the students, but Lorentz swung his pistol grip and struck him hard enough to cave in his face.

Aaaagh! Kyaaah! Ugh, thud!

The cramped basement instantly became chaos, filled with screams and the sounds of beating.

......

In the Empire's central luxury district, Elias Walter, chief secretary of Gennen, stepped out of his car. Right in front of him stood the Empire's finest restaurant, Lilac Vita, where nobles from the imperial palace had already gathered.

Political officials, Imperial Guard generals, and House of Nobles lawmakers.

All of them looked eager for Lilac Vita, yet none could go inside. They had no invitation.

Elias straightened his suit.

"Pleasure to meet you."

He approached politely and greeted them.

"Ah, so you're......"

"Yes. Elias Walter, chief secretary of Gennen."

The nobles looked him up and down with interest.

"Please, come in."

Elias led them.

He handed over the reservation pass to the staff and was guided to a room prepared in advance. The nobles sat, admiring the larger room and its decor.

They chatted among themselves. Some said it was their first time at Lilac Vita, others said their second, and some said they were even more excited than last time.

Naturally, Elias, who had invited them, became the topic.

"So, Elias, I hear you're originally from the Empire?"

"...My grandfather was an imperial noble."

The nobles studied Elias's pale blond hair and golden eyes, then nodded.

"Hm. Blood really doesn't lie."

Elias smiled faintly.

"Gennen and the Empire share the same roots, after all. Same language, same culture... in the end, isn't Gennen part of the Empire?"

He dropped those words casually, and at just the right time expensive drinks arrived. The nobles smiled brightly and agreed.

"Right. You could call us cousins. If one proves loyalty and devotion to the Empire, that qualification is granted."

"Then let's call it brotherhood while we're at it."

"Hahaha. Good, good... hm? But this menu looks different."

"I've heard Lilac Vita changes its menu every month."

Elias explained in place of the waiter.

"They rebuild the menu each month around seasonal delicacies from land and sea across the world, including Zerpa specialties."

"Ah, so that's why they said repeat visits are a must."

"Hm, hm. No wonder it's called the continent's best, beyond the Empire."

Anyway, the amuse-bouche was something like pudding. One bite, and everyone looked entranced.

Even Elias, who had focused solely on this meeting, was startled by how good it was.

"...Ah. Right."

Elias gathered himself.

As Maximilian said, these people were middle tier. More than enough to serve as stepping stones for Gennen.

"About this Imperial Civil Law that was just proclaimed......"

Now Elias moved to his real point. Feed these people meals and money consistently, and secure formal recognition of Gennen's fixed status as [quasi-applicable bloodline].

For Gennen's sake, Elias Walter swallowed his nausea.

* * *

From the moment the Imperial Civil Law was proclaimed, the Imperial Guard rampaged through the imperial center, and behind all that I put my own kill list to work.

Izenheim had no place in public office.

Yukia and I moved between sites and filtered out those things in human skin, one by one.

Rustle-

Knight office. I was not alone today. There were quite a few people.

Four Imperial Guard members had come to observe, and across from me sat a man they had brought in.

Rustle-

A page turned under my fingers.

Rustle-

It was a certain official's genealogy certificate.

What people commonly called a family register.

Rustle-

But from my side, it only made me laugh.

Thump.

My heart was racing, yet this document claimed that bastard was Aran.

Better for me, really. Instead of exile, I could hang him for document forgery.

I raised my head and looked at him.

Thump.

I wanted to cut him down right now. I wanted to speak to him in the language of Izenheim.

"Mr. Espin. You said your grandfather received this genealogy certificate twenty years ago, correct?"

"Yes. That's correct."

But I had to hold back. I could not show my hand.

"But do you see this?"

I tapped the red official seal in the lower right corner, from Imperial Central Office No. 3.

"Everyone, take a look."

I lifted the certificate toward the guards as well. The lieutenant and captain leaned in.

"The border is a perfectly even circle."

A seal is stamped hundreds of times a day, and naturally wears down with time.

I pulled out another original genealogy from that exact period twenty years ago and showed it.

"This is a real genealogy approved by Imperial Central Office No. 3 in the same period. You can see faint distortion along the seal border."

Since both documents claim to come from that same period, the seal should show the same worn outline and ink spread.

"In other words, this document was forged."

At that moment, the Izenheim's pupils shook slightly. Cold sweat ran down his pale cheeks.

A very human reaction.

So shallow and filthy it made me nauseous with disgust.

"You dared insult a knight."

Keeping my eyes on him, I scrawled my signature.

"You will receive the punishment you deserve."

It was the document sending him to Knight Court.

......

Late at night in the Knight Order, I stared at the imperial skyline through the window and sank into thought.

It was certainly meaningful change that I had wrought, but I could not predict what lay ahead.

I could not even begin to guess.

"Killing people with a pen......"

As Knight Maximilian, I signed dozens of documents today. Knight trials that could lead to execution, all over forged genealogy papers.

Forty-three people in total. But among them were many whom the Imperial Guard had dragged in who were not Izenheim.

"Sir Knight."

At that moment, Schatz entered the office.

I looked at her.

Under starlight, she was the woman who had killed my father, Sebestian, before my regression.

"What is it?"

My people, who might one day become my enemies.

How much of me could they understand. Would they remain by my side.

"We've captured intelligence. A report just came in that a man named Emilton Veslon is attempting to flee overnight."

I let out a faint breath.

Emilton Veslon. He too was accused of forging genealogy papers.

"Shall we pursue him?"

At her question, I looked out the window again and answered indifferently.

"...Leave him."

Because he was not Izenheim.

"If he's Mer, it's better if he walks out of the Empire on his own."

At least this much.

"No need to spend time hunting down and killing those already running away."

It was the best favor I could give them.

"Yes. Understood."

Schatz withdrew quietly, and I settled into calm as moonlight streamed in.

* * *

On a day when knife-sharp winds lashed the Empire, rain still poured over Prozen.

"...Jean."

Jean Pierre came to see his old friend, Akenji, director of the Prozen Central Intelligence Bureau.

"So what you're saying is this national university student is strongly suspected as the mastermind behind Minister Louis Marceau's bombing assassination?"

"That's right."

Akenji looked at the montage on the table.

A wide-brimmed flat cap. Jet-black hair and black eyes. A tear mole under the eye. A sharply masculine jaw.

The sketch had been completed based on a campus guard's testimony.

"Felix Renoir, Department of Military Studies."

"Evidence?"

"..."

Jean Pierre fell silent. He had nothing that could truly be called evidence.

The suspicion that he appeared right before the attack but never filed for reenrollment. The single unnamed answer sheet left in his classroom at that exact time. And on that same day, a face the guard had never seen before, Felix Renoir.

The only bridge connecting those things was his own intuition.

"Akenji. People change and grow. I don't like judging people through a simple good and evil split. I think first about the influence a person can have."

Jean Pierre stared into the montage's eyes and continued.

"Felix Renoir. If he really was the student who left that answer sheet in my classroom."

He read the larger current of the continent. He predicted Zerpa's political situation and the Empire's strategic shifts. Not easy, and insight that broke the mold.

"He would also have predicted the shift in dynamics among the West, the East, and the Empire if Louis Marceau died."

The assassin had severed, in one stroke, the central axis that allowed Prozen to resist the Empire.

Jean Pierre placed his finger on the answer sheet.

"Of course, he gave only one page, and this is all hindsight."

In truth, history itself is hindsight. A discipline built on outcomes. Process is only stitching things together to explain the result.

"This student deserves to be called a genius."

As a professor who analyzed people, Jean Pierre felt the insight in that answer sheet as pure intellect.

"So even if he is not the true culprit in this assassination, we still have to find him somehow. He's talent that can help Prozen's future."

Akenji looked back and forth between Jean Pierre and the montage, face set hard.

A scholar who had lived by reason and logic all his life, that very Jean Pierre, had suddenly rushed in and started talking about intuition. It could not be dismissed lightly.

"...I'll mobilize my agents."

Akenji nodded and put the montage into his drawer.

Sshaaaaaaa!

Outside the window, the downpour was still fierce. Prozen gets rain in winter. Before long, it would turn to hail.

"Quite a heavy rain."

Akenji looked outside and spoke bitterly.

"Jean, don't head back tonight. Stay at my place. I've had the guest room warmed."

He stood and patted his friend's rain-soaked shoulder.

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