WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 22

──────

In the End, the Problem Is People (3)

The warden's office at Imperial Prison No. 13.

Warden Gunter took a call there.

"......Yes. Knight Maximilian is here."

Clutching the terminal in both hands, he politely reported everything that had happened today.

"It looks like he plans to use the Limited Pardon System. Right now he is interviewing inmates, including No. 330......"

His careful report went on, but the reply from the other end was short and blunt.

“It can't be helped.”

The voice was low and heavy. The warden hunched his shoulders without realizing it. The person on the other end was not some distant Ebenholtz, but a blade much closer, poised right in front of his eyes.

“Prepare to carry out the execution first thing tomorrow morning. A formal execution order will come down from the Imperial Western Court.”

"......Understood."

Click. The call ended. The warden let out a deep sigh and sank into his chair.

* * *

I sat on a metal chair in the prison visitation room.

Tick. Tock.

For no reason, I stared at the analog clock on the gray wall.

Tick. Tock.

That sound. The movement of the second hand. At some point, everything that marked time started to bother me.

Knock, knock.

The door opened with a knock. A guard bowed and spoke.

"No. 7301. Bringing in Jin Maykop."

The inmate came in.

The first was a thin young man. I looked over his file.

[Jin Maykop. 27 years old. Death-row inmate. Ran a small teahouse on the outskirts of the capital, poisoned 8 travelers, and robbed their valuables.]

"Got any candy or something? The food here tastes awful."

"......"

I watched him for a moment, then waved my hand.

"No. 172. Bringing in Geyus."

The second was a huge man with a thick mustache and scars all over his body.

I turned the page.

[Inmate Info: Geyus Pen. 42 years old. Death-row inmate. Ran the 'Iron Fist' mercenary band, then when money ran dry, repeatedly attacked cargo wagons and killed over ten people.]

"......May I ask why you wanted to see someone like me, Sir Knight?"

He lowered his voice and tried to size me up. I hated the way he acted clever.

"No. 370, bringing in Yustihi."

"No. 997, bringing in Kane."

After a few more meaningless interviews like that, finally.

"No. 330. Schatz Heizen."

That number was called.

No. 330 sat down in front of me, restraints clanking over her body.

"Good to see you."

I meant it, but she said nothing. She only stared at me with steady eyes.

"So your name is Schatz. Unusual."

It really was unusual. There could not be many people with the same name.

Even if it had not been unusual, I would never have forgotten it.

[Case File: Schatz Heizen. 22 years old. Death-row inmate. Killed 7 employees of Mason Industries in a mana rampage.]

Before my regression, she had been a core figure in the Revolutionary Faction, famous enough to get featured in special newspaper reports.

"You killed seven people."

I opened the case file. The full incident timeline, Schatz's background, and everything else were recorded there.

"......"

I looked at her.

Still silent.

She looked stubborn at a glance. She was the quiet type to begin with.

"After serving three years, do you feel any remorse?"

"......"

I turned another page and let out a short laugh.

At this rate, I would have to start the real conversation myself.

"Unlike the other gutter trash, you had a high-level education. Probably thanks to your father, who rose from commoner roots to become a researcher at a major corporation."

For a split second, Schatz's brow twitched.

"Your father recognized your talent early and supported you. But-"

"Do not say another word."

Her sore spot seemed to be her father. I found that absurd, but at least she finally spoke.

"Your father is dead. Official cause of death: overwork."

Schatz clenched her teeth. Her mouth stopped at "you son of..." She had barely swallowed the curse.

"You couldn't believe it, so you carried out your own investigation......"

The file included a photo of Schatz staging a one-person protest in front of a corporation.

"And this was the result."

Tap.

I placed my finger on the last paragraph of the case file.

"You killed 7 civilians in a mana rampage."

"......What do you want from me."

She had not spoken in a while, and her voice came out rough.

I leaned back in my chair.

"I'm looking for an investigator. A knight's work is complicated. I need someone whose eyes and ears still work in the dark."

"And you picked me, someone who killed seven people?"

"I have a good eye."

Schatz gave a disbelieving laugh, but information like this was my greatest weapon.

"......Then let me ask you something. Do you even know what this case is connected to?"

"You can hear the details bit by bit later."

The corner of Schatz's mouth curled up. It was a cold sneer.

"You'll regret this. Someone like you can't handle it."

Someone like me.

That was funny.

I smiled at her.

"No. Exactly the opposite."

I pulled out a document and slid it across the table. A Limited Pardon Document.

"I'm the one that's impossible to handle."

Even for knights, it was a burdensome document, used only in rare cases. At the top was the name of the knight responsible for the pardon recipient.

[Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholtz]

Her eyes shook.

Again, Ebenholtz was a name printed in Imperial textbooks. Any commoner with a basic education would know it.

"This is your chance. The kind of chance that probably never comes twice."

I held out a pen.

"......What happens if I sign?"

Schatz's attitude softened a little.

"You get a limited pardon. You can walk out of prison."

"And after the pardon?"

"You wear a collar. Everything you do comes under my control."

I never took my eyes off her.

"And what do I get from that-"

"An indefinite stay of execution. And."

I added the one condition she wanted most.

"A chance to achieve what you really want."

* * *

Mason Industries.

A giant corporation based in the western Empire, leading the field of magi-engineering.

Once, they threw themselves into an Imperial state project, the development of the "Mana Engine," which injected artificial mana into the human body, and Schatz's father was a core researcher.

During the project, her father realized the Mana Engine design was flawed. He asked management to restart the project, but they refused. Instead, to force a clear success, they pushed human experimentation. The subjects were homeless people or ain species.

One day after learning that, her father suddenly died.

Cause of death: overwork.

Schatz doubted his sudden death. She tracked Mason Industries alone, found piles of evidence, and submitted it to the press, but every piece was buried. Mason Industries crushed it with power.

Then they came for her instead. They held a blade to her throat and demanded the "original copy" her father had supposedly hidden somewhere.

Schatz did not know what her father had hidden. But the way those men smeared his name with lies right in front of her disgusted her, and she fought back against the people trying to kill her.

That was how she killed seven men.

By the time she came to, she had been arrested. Hearing, trial, sentencing, all of it ended in barely a month.

Sentence: death.

"......No. 330."

Schatz's eyes flew open. Her whole body was drenched in sweat.

"Move."

Clank. Her solitary cell door opened, and morning sunlight spilled in.

Schatz followed the guard in silence.

Death-row inmates were not told their schedule in advance. That was the rule.

But Schatz had signed the Limited Pardon Document. So the relevant procedure should have been underway.

──But.

The route was wrong.

The corridor ahead was unfamiliar.

At that split just now, they should have turned right.

The exit was there.

But this was a different way.

A path she should never take.

Every morning when she started her routine, she imagined the worst possible left turn.

The road to the execution chamber.

This isn't it.

This isn't it.

Schatz stopped short. The guards forced her forward.

"What-"

No way.

A chill flashed through her mind.

Those bastards moved first. Mason's hands were faster than the knight from Ebenholtz.

Her face went pale.

"I......!"

Just as she tried to shout at the guards gripping both her arms.

"Shh."

The guard on the left gave her a low signal to keep quiet. He even gave her a faint smile, as if to reassure her. The guard on the right did the same.

"Just follow us. You know what that means, right?"

"......"

Schatz calmed down first. The guards really did pass the execution room. They walked out of the prison as if nothing was wrong and reached an open lot behind it.

A black vehicle was waiting there.

"Get in. He's waiting."

The guard opened the rear door. Schatz climbed in blankly and sat down.

That man was in the seat beside her.

Blond hair and golden eyes, symbols of the Empire. Features sharp as if carved with a chisel. Maximilian of Ebenholtz.

"What happened?"

"Your execution was approved this morning."

Maximilian smirked and held up the execution order.

"But I submitted your Limited Pardon Document before dawn."

The engine started, and Maximilian tore the order apart. Schatz stared blankly at the paper shredding into strips.

A court order commanding her death had been ripped apart by one man's hand.

"Timing-wise I had the advantage, and the western court cannot stand up to the Sentinels."

"Then......"

"I saved you. That's all you need to know."

Maximilian quietly closed his eyes. It felt wrong to speak to him again.

Instead, Schatz looked out the window. The prison scenery had already fallen far behind, and before long new terrain appeared.

"......"

Wordlessly, she pressed her eyes and nose to the window and watched the unfamiliar view slide by.

How many hours passed like that?

"A car is following us from behind."

Schatz spoke quietly. Maximilian gave a slight nod.

"Good instincts. No need to worry."

Before long, the vehicle reached the outskirts of the Imperial center.

Screech.

It stopped at an open lot.

"Get out."

"......"

Schatz got out obediently. The car that had tailed them all this way stopped nearby too. A door opened, and someone stepped out.

Schatz's eyes widened.

It was the two guards who had released her, and the deputy warden.

"......Seeing you again here, No. 330."

The deputy warden approached with a bitter smile. Schatz flinched and asked,

"What is going on?"

"Simple. We decided to secure a better Link for ourselves. We can't stay under that rotten bastard in that rotten prison forever."

Money was only money. Power was only power. But honor bound to tradition, and a lineage that had lasted nearly five hundred years, was history itself. People naturally looked up to it, and it naturally drew people in.

The deputy warden's side approached Ebenholtz the moment Maximilian entered the prison. They exposed every bit of Warden Gunter's corruption, and the prison's corruption with him.

"First, these are the belongings you had when you were locked up."

The deputy warden handed Schatz a bag.

"And this is a terminal for contacting the knight."

Schatz took it and stared blankly at Maximilian.

"Until you get separate instructions, train yourself over there."

He pointed to the lodging in the distance. A single building stood alone on a vacant patch of land.

"For now, your top priority is getting stronger."

"Yes."

Schatz started toward it, then stopped.

"Sir Knight."

She looked at Maximilian, who was watching her quietly, and asked what still bothered her.

"Why me of all people?"

Maximilian seemed to think for a moment. Then a smile spread at the corner of his mouth. He let out a sigh-like reply.

"You don't need questions. Let's bury the future for now."

"......The future?"

The future. Bright and bleak at the same time, a future where all humanity slipped free of the Empire's shackles only to be destroyed by those fucking otherworldly species.

In that future, you killed my father.

"Yes."

You were the one who killed Sebestian himself.

"It means stop worrying about trivial things and focus on the present."

There was no reason not to claim someone like you.

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