WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 160

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Blizzard (2)

Inside a research office at Prozen National University.

Professor Jean Pierre received a report from Akenji, a department head at the Prozen Central Intelligence Bureau.

"...There is a radical student group called the Revision Society."

He frowned and lit a cigar.

"I heard it started as a tiny club formed in this university's basement."

Revision Society. Revision Society. Jean Pierre rolled the unfamiliar name around in his mouth several times.

"Ah. I remember them, vaguely."

They were the ones who sat in the very back whenever he gave a lecture, fired hostile questions at the ruling Socialist Party, and staged fierce protests whenever the party announced a policy.

"Those students..."

Whooooo. The blizzard outside slipped through a crack in the window. Jean Pierre got up and shut it.

"Lately, that Revision Society has been growing at an abnormally rapid pace. It's no longer just a club. It's starting to take the shape of an organization. They even bought a building."

"A club got that big?"

Akenji nodded.

"One of our agents went in under a false identity, contacted one of their lower members, and talked with them."

The agents slowly blended into their base and watched their movements.

"They kept their mouths shut about the recent bombing attack on Minister Louis Marceau... but that man, Felix Renoir, clearly knew something."

After that, the agent investigated their funding.

Every month, a courier delivered a certain box to the Revision Society. It was handed only to their chief, Clara Magal.

"I barely managed to obtain this one sheet."

Akenji pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper and laid it on the table.

[This is Felix. Please put this to good use. If anything is lacking, let me know anytime.]

The moment he read those short lines.

"...Wait!"

Jean Pierre grabbed his forehead as if struck by lightning. Akenji flinched and crushed out his cigarette.

"Wh-what is it?"

"Here! This!"

Jean Pierre opened a drawer and pulled out that nameless answer sheet.

The writing of someone who had perfectly predicted Zerpa's political situation, in other words the Empire's coexistence and Crown Prince Alonso's success.

"Look."

Jean Pierre and Akenji set the answer sheet and the note side by side, then compared the handwriting.

The note had only a few lines, but it was enough to confirm that distinct, elegant pen stroke.

"The handwriting is the same."

A detective's intuition flashed through his mind.

Felix was the Revision Society's source of funds. Maybe even more than that.

No, definitely more.

"Akenji. What do you think."

Felix Renoir.

A genius who had left that nameless answer sheet, and in Jean Pierre's eyes, a prime assassination suspect.

"Can you keep watching the Revision Society?"

At his request, Akenji nodded quietly.

* * *

At the center of the Empire, where an icy blizzard raged.

The Zestpol intellectual coalition had effectively collapsed. The Special Imperial Guard had investigated their backgrounds one by one and imprisoned anyone who was not pure Aran.

Captain Hans played a major role in that process.

Maximilian gave Hans the intelligence network of the Gennen branch office. Hans then hunted down every reactionary like a mad dog, and that service secured his promotion to major.

Naturally, he ended up competing in performance with his former direct superior, Lieutenant Colonel Lorentz.

A split and mutual check had been created inside the Imperial Guard, and one person had been planted into that crack.

Before long, that one would multiply into dozens, then hundreds.

Maximilian also borrowed Johann's pen and proposed a new policy to the Emperor.

「Special Act on Imposing Surcharges on Imperial Civil Law Violators and Providing Special Relief for Poor Aran」

- Under this law, punitive surcharges are imposed on heterogeneous bloodline public officials, doctors, lawyers, mages, researchers, and others who are dismissed from public office or lose qualifications under the Imperial Civil Law, and those funds are to be used transparently to support poor pure-Aran citizens.

A law to collect fines from those dismissed under the Imperial Civil Law and support lower-class Aran citizens of the Empire.

Even without Maximilian, that law likely would have passed. Before the regression, though, the Imperial Guard and noble bastards devoured all that blind money. So this time, it would be monitored thoroughly and distributed with as little leakage as possible.

Rustle, rustle.

In the lower districts of the slums in the imperial center, under heavy snowfall. And not only there, stoves and food were delivered across barren lower-class residential areas in the west, east, and north.

"H-here..."

"Sarah Fisher, right. Take it, press this red button, and the fire comes on immediately. It's loaded with enough fuel to last all winter and then some, so don't be stingy with it, and never damage it!"

A mass-supply stove developed by Lorenzo Academy. They designed it in a way that did not trust people.

If someone tried to force it apart or rip it open to sell parts, the internal mana circuit would tangle and break. The fuel tank was also integrated into one body, so mana stone fuel could not be extracted separately and skimmed into the black market.

"This Aran ration coupon can only be used if you present it with your ID at the supply station, so don't lose it."

"Y-yes. Thank you..."

"This is given only to Aran subjects, so keep watch around you too! Don't let useless types mix with your children!"

"Y-yes..."

Holding their strange-looking stoves and ration coupons tightly in their arms, the lower-class residents went home smiling.

Whooooooo!

Even in the driving wind, the stoves gave off blue warmth, and the number of winter freeze deaths in the Empire dropped sharply.

Now, as a new year approached, the Empire was stepping forward, slowly but surely, into deeper ground.

......

Several generals in the Imperial regular army received secret invitations printed on premium parchment.

「Imperial Solidarity Dinner Invitation」

It was a New Year banquet hosted by Maximilian.

The key figures from last year were invited again, but this time there was a special clause.

[All of you who received this invitation are fixed honored guests. For this banquet only, you may bring one colleague who shares your intentions.]

"Hmm..."

Because of that, Major General Maut fell into deep thought.

This was the biggest final event of the year. The words honored guest looked good and sounded good, but the fact that he could bring only one person was painful.

"Only one colleague I can bring..."

Maut had already formed a private group called the Gennen Society, centered on commanders who had served together in last year's Gennen suppression operation. Suppressing Gennen was a great source of pride for them. The generals from that campaign had surely received this invitation too.

Riiiing-

Right then, the terminal on his desk rang.

"Hello. Ah, yes. Lieutenant General Litruman, sir. Haha."

Maut stood up, looked out at the snow-covered drill yard, and took the call warmly.

"The year really flew by. I heard the news. Congratulations."

Lieutenant General Litruman had been thriving lately.

He had basically let go of his line and waited for retirement, a political general who had stepped away from the front. But once Empire Point was revived with Maximilian's investment, the Empire Point commandant post suddenly rose into a key position inside the military.

"Yes, yes. Ah, our training has also been very intense and practical."

Maximilian valued discipline and training. Rumors were everywhere that he sometimes rewarded units with high training performance.

Even just to stay on Maximilian's line, the generals were tightening discipline hard.

"Then before the dinner, shall we gather and discuss? Yes, yes. Honestly, these days there is no military event as important as this dinner."

「Imperial Solidarity Dinner」

Just one year ago, it had been no more than a meal hosted by a young knight. Now it had become the most intimate center of power for the top command of the Imperial regular army.

"Yes, then... yes? Lilac Vita? You got that invitation ticket? Ah, so that person gave it to you."

Like this, from now on they would build a cartel on their own.

That meeting would become a lifelong source of pride for them, that meal an unforgettable joy, and that gift a family heirloom passed down through generations.

"Yes, thank you. I'll see you that day."

But the one man who built that whole structure alone...

was beyond the curtain called darkness.

* * *

The Imperial Palace, located at the heart of the Empire.

This place was radiant in all four seasons. That was not a metaphor. No matter how blizzards raged outside or rain and wind lashed the sky, the imperial palace was truly a magical space, and every moment there was spring untouched by the seasons.

"...Duke Ebenholtz, this way."

Today, I attended that mysterious palace.

I had come to testify about the reputation of a certain candidate group.

Creeeak.

An imperial butler opened the door. I stepped inside. Unlike the dazzling exterior, the room was an ordinary office, and two palace officials sat across from me.

"Welcome, Duke Ebenholtz."

One of them pointed at an empty chair.

"Please sit."

I sat without a word. Crossing my legs, I flicked my brows, a gesture telling them to speak first.

I had come here not as a knight but as Ebenholtz, and this was how an Ebenholtz noble behaved.

The level of formality and manners I had absorbed was extremely high, but I did not spend that on mere officials.

"Yes. You likely came here already expecting this."

The officials looked unconcerned.

"We would like to ask Duke Ebenholtz about Candidate Anton's qualifications and public reputation."

That day was not far away now.

The Sentinel commander's term had already ended, and it was time for a new face to step in.

"First, Duke Ebenholtz. This concerns the period when Candidate Anton served as vice commander."

One investigator asked questions, and the other began recording the conversation.

"Vice Commander Anton promoted recruitment of talented commoner-born personnel within the order, and compared to previous years, retrials for commoners increased greatly. What do you think of that?"

Anton was a reformist. When he became vice commander over ten years ago, he appointed many commoners with outstanding talent and scores as knights, and they had now become solid pillars of the Sentinel Order.

I answered calmly.

"Vice Commander Anton was a man who believed in human potential. He probably thought commoners should be given the same opportunities as nobles."

The official's brows twitched.

"I see. And what do you think of that side of Candidate Anton?"

The investigator turned a page. He seemed to have a script prepared.

"Well. I've never thought about it in detail."

"Then I will ask directly. There are unsettling rumors that Candidate Anton is dissatisfied with imperial policy, including the class system."

A strange glint passed through the official's round glasses.

"Especially after the Imperial Civil Law took effect, we are seeing clashes of opinion inside the Sentinel Order."

That was true. A noble knight would jail someone, another commoner knight would demand a retrial, then the noble would storm into the commoner's office and raise his voice.

"We have quite a lot of internal testimony saying all that confusion is due to Candidate Anton's tacit protection. What do you think?"

Provocative wording. I could see what kind of frame those hostile to Anton in the palace were trying to build.

I answered briefly.

"I cannot read another man's heart. Anton himself comes from a fallen noble line close to commoners, so he may naturally feel for them."

"...Mm. On that point."

The official smiled faintly and continued.

"In fact, Candidate Vice Commander Anton said, 'I became vice commander even though I had nothing. Since I did it myself, commoners can do it too if given the chance.' What do you think of that?"

That part was nonsense.

Not because I was mindful of ears listening in the palace, but because my own beliefs could not allow me to affirm it.

"It was a misconception."

The official asked back.

"A misconception meaning what?"

"Vice Commander Anton is under the illusion that talents like his are walking around harbor docks, market streets, or slum sewers."

"Isn't it too simple to dismiss it as illusion, considering family background and education are major factors?"

"...That is not the talent I am talking about."

I looked at the official.

"Compared to commoner standards like yours, that standard is hundreds of times higher."

Pronunciation and intonation. Habits soaked into the body. Skin condition, including calluses.

The movement of the pupils.

This official was a commoner.

Even if he spent over a decade trying to wash himself clean, he could not deceive my eyes.

Because I, and House Ebenholtz, were true nobles.

"If I may, could you explain the standard you have in mind, Duke Ebenholtz?"

He asked in a low voice.

Gladly.

I raised a finger.

"If one can learn mana and swordsmanship, or scholarship, then one can simply learn."

The official listened quietly.

"If one can understand, then one can simply understand that too."

This was my own conviction, built in my study while reading, studying, understanding, and absorbing papers and philosophy.

"My standard is whether one can go beyond that little level and, as an individual, affect the flow of this world... that vast raging tide."

War would come soon. For humanity's survival, history, heavier than anything, would come crashing in. In that despair, could one still protect oneself.

Could one overcome that fated wave of the world, and together with me preserve humanity's grand ambition.

That was what talent meant to me.

"Vice Commander Anton was certainly one of them. But that kind of talent appears once in a generation, if that."

I looked straight into the official's eyes.

"A man like Anton was actually natural order. In the end, an era discovers talent like that. But now he is being wasted by his own temperament."

In times like this, his gentle heart was only a disability.

It helped neither himself, nor the order, nor this world.

"..."

After a short silence, the official nodded as if he understood.

"Then let me ask."

This political fight would be an unbearably long and painful one for Anton.

The palace nobles would use every trick they had to tear into him.

Even so, Anton would never step down by his own will. He was gentle, yes, but he was not a coward who abandoned his beliefs and ran.

"Duke Ebenholtz, do you believe Candidate Anton is suitable to serve as commander of the Sentinel Order?"

I looked at the official. The official looked back at me.

"He..."

I drew out the word for a moment as if thinking, but my answer had been the same from the start.

"I think he is highly unqualified."

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