WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 266: Preparation...

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The incident was closed.

Jamie Blake earned credit for recovering the bonds and eliminating the terrorists, wiping out everyone under Illich's command. She returned to Hailand as a Black agent.

There was no medal.

A Black agent's achievements always ended with another line added to a document that would never be made public.

"I've received the report, but..."

Director Z of the Intelligence Bureau asked as Z closed the file. Hailand's characteristic gray rain streaked down beyond the window, mixed with wet sleet.

"What exactly happened?"

The director already knew Blake was hiding something.

"..."

She could not answer right away. Kaven lingered in her thoughts.

A man who had held scripture and a cause close to his heart, asking her to keep his comrades' sacrifice secret.

"Over there..."

But had that grotesque form been my hallucination?

A shadow shaped by oxygen deprivation while Illich strangled me?

"I saw Maximilian."

That knight, Maximilian, believed every Izenheim was like Kaven.

"And..."

Even if what I had seen was real, I could not conclude that all Izenheim were the same.

One individual could not be used to judge an entire species.

"...A person turning into a monster."

Even so, the director's expression did not change.

"I saw either a mutation caused by a new type of mana drug or someone with such an ability."

The director did not doubt her. Blake was not someone who would lie, so the director merely accepted her account and interpreted it.

"...A people driven into a corner can do anything."

Z held something out to Blake.

It was an intelligence summary.

"Camps are being built in the Empire. The Izenheim must know who will be imprisoned inside them."

Numerous inexplicable Camps had been built across the Empire. First the railways were laid, then the walls went up.

"B. What do you think Maximilian intends to do?"

At the director's question, Blake suddenly remembered the face she had seen that day.

"...He will probably."

A man devoid of emotion. The face that had watched her after killing the Izenheim. The face that had seemed almost pleased to find someone who had seen "the same thing" as him...

"No, he definitely will."

Everything about Maximilian. His confident movements. The eyes of someone bound by a certain duty, more dangerous than any ideology.

"He will massacre the Izenheim."

...

Outcast Studio, in the Empire's underground city.

"..."

Filty stared blankly at the page.

The ink on the manuscript had not fully dried. Her desk lamp illuminated it while everything else remained in darkness.

"..."

She had clearly drawn it herself.

Even so, she could not believe it.

"..."

Words failed her. She could only trace the drawing with her fingers.

Patterns spreading black from the neck. Inverted muscles. Joints bent in directions they should never have bent. The places where the whites of the eyes had been swallowed.

"..."

Every crosshatch. Every striation in split tendons. They were rendered in such detail that it looked as though she had copied them from something right before her eyes.

"..."

Why did I?

No, how had I seen scenes like these?

"..."

She looked down at the pen clenched in her hand. Ink had dried black across her fingertips.

"Haa..."

Filty drew in a trembling breath and raised her gaze.

She pulled a file wedged into a drawer on the shelf.

It was labeled [Izenheim], containing the manuscripts of every "suspicious" thing she had drawn so far.

She took out several pages, arranged them in a row, and placed this newest page at the end.

"..."

Those who had shown unusual reactions whenever Maximilian scattered unidentified waves,

[Kaven]

had revealed themselves clearly before an Izenheim named Kaven.

* * *

The New Year. The Imperial Regular Army's regimental banquet was held.

In the past, they had struggled with insufficient budgets and could not even secure a proper place for a social gathering. Now, they had rented out the grand ballroom of the finest newly built hotel in the capital.

"...Therefore. Only those prepared to answer the Empire's call are worthy of raising this glass today."

Lieutenant General Litruman finished his toast.

"For the Empire!"

Everyone raised their glasses.

"For the Empire!"

The shout filled the ballroom. Even the waiters looked strangely moved by their powerful voices.

Perhaps because everyone here was Aran, as proven by their family registers.

Afterward, everyone in uniform conversed with pride on their faces. Bernhardt and Adel wandered the ballroom without even a chance to sit, drinking every glass offered by the general officers.

The treatment of the Regular Army had changed dramatically.

As the Imperial economy recovered, or at least appeared to recover, donations from companies benefiting from military contracts poured in. Every bit of it was spent on the soldiers.

It was a system where corruption and embezzlement could easily occur, but under the Sentinel's cold gaze, no officer dared try it. The pit on the eastern border, where hundreds had been shot and buried, had not even dried out yet.

More than anything, they were now paid and rewarded well enough that they did not need to be corrupt.

Official residences. Military vehicles and drivers. Dedicated hospitals. Military golf courses. Boarding schools for their children. Things that became cheap when the state secured them in bulk but cost a fortune for an individual to buy.

The military pension system had also been reformed.

Their years of service would secure their retirement, making it a tremendous loss to throw away a uniform for the sake of a bribe.

The Ditter Division, backed by Maximilian, managed the pensions.

...Of course, as everyone knew, gifts from knights did not count as bribes.

Anything a knight gave was not legally considered a bribe...

That spring, radios were distributed free across the Empire. The same boxes were placed in every village, factory, and on every tavern counter.

Every local station broadcast censored programs under state control, spreading the same thoughts and ideology.

Their reports twisted and exaggerated certain facts, or repeated the same incidents from different angles.

Most covered Izenheim terrorism, crimes, incitement of strikes, and the downfall of those who protected them.

Johann Georg also created a program called [Culture Show], perhaps the first radio variety show. It presented sensational stories favorable to propaganda, either received from listeners or written into scripts.

"Now, our first story today comes from Helga of the Schwarz District."

At an orphanage in Imperial District 42, Entikkan listened to [Culture Show] while working through the ledgers.

"One day, the key to Helga's home disappeared..."

These days, they received plenty of machinery and facility support because they were Yaken, but Entikkan still preferred to keep the ledgers by hand.

Knock. Knock.

Then came a late-night knock.

"Come in."

"Director."

A staff member entered and whispered to him.

"...Let's go."

Entikkan went outside.

At the orphanage entrance, a Yaken guard stood beside a newborn in a cradle.

Sniff. Sniff.

The guard inhaled and spoke.

"I can smell it. Definitely."

He meant Izenheim.

"Who left it there?"

"That much, I don't know..."

Entikkan looked down at the child for a moment. The innocent face looked back at him and smiled.

"...What's going on?"

Another Yaken emerged from behind them. It was his niece Erka, who had passed the knight order's recruitment last year.

"Someone abandoned an Izenheim child."

The baby did not look even a year old. Erka rubbed her eyes as she looked at the child, seemingly exhausted from staying up all night.

"What a waste."

"What is?"

"We should have caught the parents."

She continued calmly.

"Abandoning a child is a crime."

"..."

"Did you know, Uncle? There were bastards in Zerpha who framed the Yaken as Republican Party members and butchered them. They said every one of them was Izenheim."

Yaken in the knight order could access even such hidden information without difficulty.

Entikkan fell silent for a moment before speaking.

"...Go get some rest. You have work tomorrow too."

"Okay."

Erka turned away. Trudge. Trudge.

The girl heading back to her room had become quite dependable before he realized it.

Perhaps the knight order did that to people.

Entikkan spoke to the guard.

"Take it somewhere far away and abandon it. Then hide and watch."

"Do we only watch?"

Entikkan had hired a Yaken guard with particularly great strength. There had, in fact, been several suspicious signs of terrorism at his orphanage as well.

"Yes. If they abandoned it only because they wanted someone to adopt it, it will remain there. If not..."

If the child had been abandoned for an entirely different reason.

"They'll come to retrieve it. Catch their scent."

* * *

...Such an incident occurred.

I took charge of the case from the police.

The middle-aged Yaken transferred to the Sentinel had apparently been given a great many things already. Cola, cigarettes, and even an empty meal bowl sat before him beyond the interrogation room window.

I entered.

"Nice to meet you."

I smiled and gestured at him as he flinched and tried to stand.

"Please remain seated."

"Ah, yes..."

The Yaken sat back down.

"Mr. Orban?"

"That's right. Orban Denkun."

I picked up the statement.

"Could you tell me your account once again?"

"Yes, well, there was a suspicious child abandoned in front of the orphanage where I work..."

The baby had a wet, fishy odor.

By Entikkan's order, Orban had secretly abandoned the child somewhere else and watched from afar. Near dawn, two male Izenheim came to retrieve the child.

It was suspicious.

"That certainly is strange. The fact that they came to retrieve a child they had already abandoned..."

"Yes. So I tried to ask them why."

The men reacted violently, and a fight broke out.

The Yaken, Orban, killed both in self-defense and was arrested by the police.

"Did they smell like Izenheim as well?"

"Yes."

Orban was a Yaken who could smell them. One of the rare few, roughly one in every two or three thousand. Some could not smell anything but pretended they could, of course, but this man was real.

"I see."

The autopsy determined that the men killed by the Yaken were subspecies. They had surely been Izenheim.

They had not been armed, though. That made Orban's claim of self-defense difficult to establish.

...In truth, this Yaken's account did not quite add up.

Much of it was likely a lie.

It was more convincing that he had been unable to control his hostility toward the Izenheim and killed them, rather than a fight breaking out by chance while he questioned why they had abandoned the child.

It did not matter.

Your malice had made humanity that much better off.

"Sir Knight, then what will happen to me...?"

"What is there to happen?"

I smiled faintly.

"You're innocent."

"R-Really?"

His eyes widened.

"Go home and rest. The case will be handled soon."

"Yes, yes! Thank you...!"

Escorted by the Yaken within the knight order, Orban left with his arms full of gifts.

I spoke to the case officer.

"Send the local police station an order to close the case."

"Yes."

Quietly, I turned my gaze outside.

Spring leaves had already begun to sprout on the branches.

"Sir Knight!"

An intelligence agent responsible for foreign affairs rushed over and delivered an urgent report.

"They say the end of the Zerpha Civil War is, is in sight!"

* * *

Zerpha's Republican Party had fallen.

Badsel, the Republican faction's largest stronghold, raised the white flag after two months under siege. Frank and other key figures fled abroad to Prozen, while numerous other Republican faction members were imprisoned.

With only the final curtain of the long civil war remaining,

"Haa..."

Major General Schweitzer sat before a map in his barracks, crushing out a cigarette as he muttered.

"...This is fucking boring."

He had directly commanded few battles in this war. The Empire could not take the lead, so he had spent years hiding behind the kingdom's army, offering advice and counting shells.

The bombing of Guernica had at least felt satisfying, but that had been all.

"Fuck, what a life..."

Whoosh.

The field tent flap opened, and someone entered.

If it had been a soldier, barging in without a word would have earned a harsh public punishment.

"Nice to meet you."

But it was Maximilian.

"I came after hearing the telegram."

Schweitzer was no longer surprised. This man had always appeared like this.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant General Schweitzer."

The rank of lieutenant general.

It was the reward for this boring war.

"Kai Han will be a colonel, then?"

"Yes. You're well informed."

Maximilian walked up to the map.

"You've done well. The Republican traitors have fallen at last."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Schweitzer had already identified nearly every strategic point in Zerpha and planted the Royalist faction's blue flag across all of them.

"Do you know how many years I've been stuck in this boring battlefield?"

Schweitzer asked with a crooked smile.

Maximilian answered with something else.

"Before long, the Empire will wage war against the continent. I don't know whether it will be this year or next."

It would not take more than two years.

Schweitzer's ears perked up. Slowly, he uncrossed his arms.

"Lieutenant General Schweitzer will be appointed commander of the 4th Armored Corps."

Commander of an armored corps...

His eyes narrowed.

"There, you will take the finest tanks ever built and lead from the front."

Maximilian reached out and folded the map.

A map of Zerpha, which was no longer needed. A completely different stage, far wider than this one, would probably be laid over it.

"You will race across the continent."

The corner of Schweitzer's mouth slowly curled upward.

"Then let me ask you, Sir Knight Maximilian."

Schweitzer was deeply contrarian. He distrusted those whom everyone else considered great, and loyalty meant little to him.

Still, he believed one important thing.

He could follow someone to the end if their natures matched.

"How many people do you intend to kill?"

Maximilian does not know me very well.

I, Schweitzer, am a battle maniac by nature, someone who has nurtured a craving no one would acknowledge, someone more steeped in blood and gunpowder than anyone else...

"..."

Maximilian fell silent for a moment, and Schweitzer waited for the number that would come from his lips.

Tens of thousands. Perhaps hundreds of thousands. Even millions?

No, this knight might babble about some more old-fashioned value to hide his slaughter. To preserve his dignity.

You are fundamentally different from lowborn scum like me, and such naked language is beneath a nobleman like you, so...

"Tens of millions."

At those words, Schweitzer's expression froze.

Every sentence with which he had been judging Maximilian broke off inside his mind.

"To cleanse the continent's filth."

Maximilian added with a faint smile.

"That many will probably be sacrificed."

He did not hide his hostility, nor did he sound remotely like a nobleman. He spoke as flatly as a butcher stating the weight of the meat he would slaughter that day.

"..."

Schweitzer's lips parted halfway. They moved soundlessly.

"...Ha, hahaha!"

Laughter burst from him before he realized it.

"Hahahahaha!"

As his laughter shook the barracks, the general realized just how badly he had underestimated someone.

"Kuhahahaha!"

A mere battle maniac only wanted war.

The man before him wanted the continent itself to burn...

"Hahahahaha!"

Maximilian only watched Schweitzer's long laughter impassively.

Footnotes:

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