WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 45

──────

Drawing the Future with a Pen (4)

Zenith Times headquarters.

I arranged a meeting with the editor-in-chief. It was not difficult. The moment my aide contacted her, she said she had been waiting and would come to me, but I told her I would come instead.

"I am sorry, Sir Knight."

The editor-in-chief bowed.

"We did not fully realize that the knight handling that case was Sir Maximilian."

I watched her deliver the formal apology in silence.

"...Since that reporter is from the Stauffen family, we had little choice but to give him leeway until now..."

She spoke too much to follow every line, but the point was clear. Alphonse was a noble reporter, so he had been largely free from desk-level censorship.

"As you can see in the article, there was not a single direct mention of Sir Maximilian, so from our side..."

A standard media tactic. They pursued conscience and money in the right proportions.

Put plainly, conscience was profitable.

"It is fine. I understand Reporter Alphonse's thinking. But those illegal immigrants were Revolutionary Faction members."

"So that was the conclusion."

"It was not a conclusion. It was the truth."

"Yes. We will run a correction as soon as possible. Also."

The editor-in-chief set an old duffel bag on the table.

"We have decided to part ways with Reporter Alphonse von Stauffen."

It looked like Alphonse's belongings. I gave a dry smile and shook my head.

"No. It is fine."

"No, Sir Knight. This was our fault, so naturally we should..."

"No. I said it is fine."

I raised a hand and cut her off. I let my expression go cold.

Alphonse really was a good reporter.

"Reporter Alphonse is a noble. The Stauffen family is a fine house that has served the Empire for generations. I can bear this much."

The editor-in-chief stared at me, then nodded a moment later. She seemed to understand enough.

"That is good to hear. Still, let us at least review the articles Reporter Alphonse wrote."

"Yes, they are all in that bag."

I opened the duffel bag. It was stuffed with bundles of paper. There was even my photo from the grand jury. It looked like they had taken the bag from him almost by force.

I skimmed his articles, then frowned at one unpublished draft.

"Why was this article not published?"

──Was the 14-year-old boy, Kane Romil, really a murderer?──

Last month, in Shiltach, Western Alteo Province, commoner boy Kane (14) was arrested as the suspect in a serial murder case targeting young girls. He was declared the culprit almost immediately and is now awaiting sentencing. But according to this paper's reporting, unidentified adult male footprints were found at the scene, and aside from the boy's confession, there was no physical evidence at all...

──────────

"The Kane Romil case."

At my question, the editor-in-chief answered quietly.

"It was held back because most of it was speculation, and because the reporter was too personally convinced that there was another real culprit."

I met her gaze. I could guess the rest. The real culprit was probably the child of an influential house, or from a rich family, or connected somehow to the newspaper owner.

Obvious. Completely obvious. But these obvious things pile up and make the Empire creak.

"Since when have you refused to run that kind of speculation? In my view, this belongs on tomorrow's front page."

She looked at me with an odd expression.

"May I ask your reason?"

The reason was simple. The Empire had to be normalized. At minimum, every gear in this massive state had to do the job it was meant to do. Not purely good, just not evil.

That was the only way to win the coming war.

The only way to completely purge the otherworldly species called Izenheim from this land.

"You already know."

...Explaining all of that was tedious. Persuading her would waste even more time.

There was an easier way.

"If you made a mistake, bury it under a bigger story."

Pull out the checkbook and scribble down dollars.

"Do not overthink it. This is only a process to see whether we can be friends."

"..."

The editor-in-chief stared at the amount on the check. On a face that had shown no change until now, a faint crack appeared.

* * *

Inside Zenith Times, Alphonse was locked in a small storage room at headquarters.

Open up! Open the door!

"...Hey, punk. Just go home and rest already. Go back to your nice family estate and rest."

Open it!

Manager Eddie sighed at the pounding door.

Then open it first! I said I'll go!

Just as the pounding started again, the editor-in-chief returned.

"Ah, Editor-in-chief. You're back."

She pointed at the storage room and snapped her fingers.

"Let him out."

"Sorry?"

"The door. Open it."

"Ah, yes ma'am."

Eddie looked confused, but opened it. The second the door swung open, Alphonse rushed out and thrust out his hand to the editor-in-chief.

"Alright, hand over my bag, my bag! I have to go report right now!"

She gave it back without a word, and Eddie ran a hand through his hair.

"That brat... talking about reporting, my ass. You are out as of today, punk. Editor-in-chief, I'll clear his desk first thing."

"No. It is fine."

"Underst... sorry?"

"Run this article first. Front page. Right under the headline."

──Was the 14-year-old boy, Kane Romil, really a murderer?──

Last month, in Shiltach, Western Alteo Province, commoner boy Kane (14) was arrested...

──────────

She held out Alphonse's article.

"...Huh? Isn't this Alphonse's piece?"

"What? My piece?"

Alphonse, who had been about to leave, rushed back and snatched it. He skimmed it, then asked in shock.

"...You're running this? The desk rejected it just yesterday."

"Exactly. Front page too? Not once has one of his pieces made page one."

Alphonse and Manager Eddie suddenly ended up on the same side.

"The situation changed, so if I say run it, run it without complaints."

"...Ah, yes."

"Alphonse. Go do your reporting or whatever it is. Mr. Eddie, do your work too."

Still bewildered, the manager returned to the desk. Alphonse kept staring at the editor-in-chief, then frowned.

"What is this? What did Knight Maximilian say? Wait, did he insult you or something? Did that finally knock some sense into you?!"

"The opposite."

"The opposite? Opposite of what? Are we talking bedbugs now?"

Ignoring Alphonse's nonsense, she went into her office.

"Haa..."

Editor-in-chief Celine Dubois sat down and pressed both temples.

Today she had met Maximilian. It was a rare chance. In that short time, she had tried to figure out what kind of man he was, studying his expressions and mindset, but she got nothing.

"...To bury his own article that only made page two, he pushes another noble's case to page one."

If this was obsession with cleanliness, then why protect Alphonse, who had directly attacked him, just because he was a noble?

"Is he calculating, or just strange."

Celine picked up her terminal and called someone immediately.

"Lady Margaret."

"Yes. Speak."

Margaret. She was the real owner of this newspaper. Celine, the editor-in-chief, was only an acting representative.

"I have a message from Knight Maximilian von Ebenholtz..."

She relayed everything that had happened today, including Maximilian's proposal.

"...I see."

Margaret paused to think.

In the Kane Romil case, there really was another likely culprit, and that suspect's parents were nobles with deep connections in media and legal circles. That outside pressure was exactly why the desk had cut the piece.

But now their opponent was not a newspaper. It was Ebenholtz.

From Margaret's position as owner of Zenith Times, judging house rank and sponsor weight was easy.

"Do it."

"Yes."

Margaret gave the order. After setting down the terminal, Celine picked up her fountain pen. Chin in hand, she thought for a moment, then touched the nib to a blank sheet.

Tap. Tap. Scratch.

She drew something and made a cipher.

A cipher made that way would become secret mail and be delivered somewhere.

To a group carrying an unwavering grand ambition, a group that dreamed of revolution.

* * *

The Kane Romil case was one Alphonse had chased for nearly a month. One day the boy was suddenly branded a murderer, and even with other evidence suggesting he was not the culprit, the investigators ignored everything.

But the moment the article ran on page one, everything turned upside down.

The local court that had sentenced the boy to death only 40 days after the case began reversed its ruling the very next day. Central police came directly from the capital. They re-collected the evidence that had been ignored and quickly identified the real suspect.

"Thank you... thank you so much, Reporter."

After the boy was released, his parents thanked Alphonse through tears. Poor and uneducated people. Alphonse shook his head. He even refused the gifts they tried to offer him.

Alphonse looked at the central police officer who had taken over the case. What was his name again. Anyway, he walked over and shrugged.

"...This is what they call the power of the pen, right?"

"The power of the pen?"

The mustached cop frowned, then smirked.

"Well, not wrong. But reporter, this was not because of you."

"What? Then why are you here?"

"I said it was not because of you."

"Then what was it?"

"...If you are curious, read this yourself."

The cop flicked a sheet of paper at him. Alphonse picked it up.

Short lines were written on a half-blank document.

─[Official Letter from the Sentinel Order]─

Sender: Sentinel Order

Recipient: Western Alteo Local Court of the Empire

Subject: Immediate suspension of Kane Romil's execution and order for a fair reinvestigation.

As a member of the Sentinel Order, this office raises grave doubt about your court's disturbingly swift guilty verdict in the case of Kane Romil under your jurisdiction.

Accordingly, until the full truth of this case is clearly established, we strictly order the immediate suspension of the suspect's execution and the full restart of all investigative procedures from the beginning under the command of the Imperial Central Police.

This order is based on a knight's inherent authority to protect the Empire's justice, and you are hereby reminded that all judicial and administrative responsibility arising from noncompliance lies entirely with the Western Alteo Local Court.

───

And at the very bottom, the signature.

[Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholtz]

"Maximilian..."

"So?"

Alphonse flinched and looked up. The cop stroked his mustache and curled one corner of his mouth.

"The weight of the pen feels a lot different, doesn't it?"

* * *

──The real culprit in the girl murder case is finally caught──

: Alphonse von Stauffen

Under the wise and swift order for reinvestigation issued by Knight Maximilian von Ebenholtz of the Sentinel Order, the Imperial Central Police reexamined the Kane Romil case from the ground up.

As a result, the real culprit was identified as Marcus von Baum, second son of House Baum. Without Knight Maximilian's sharp insight, we would not have prevented the wrongful death of an innocent boy. The Western Court's compensation for damages...

─────────────────────────

One day, a new article covered the front page.

Judging by the awkward praise of Maximilian inserted here and there, the desk had clearly run it through special censorship.

"Good."

It was necessary.

Before regression, Izenheim had dug into the cracks among the Empire's commoners, more than 97 percent of the population. They touched the hearts of the lower class, people who could not even live decent human lives. They swelled distrust and hostility toward an Empire already near its limit, then overturned the Empire from top to bottom, bottom to top, and outside to inside, toppling the system and the regime.

So at least a minimum level of trust in the Empire had to be kept alive.

For that, I planned to use Zenith Times as much as possible.

Most of Alphonse's articles would no longer be censored. The justice he wanted would become quiet comfort and propaganda for the Empire's common people.

Except for articles that damaged my honor.

Of course Alphonse would try not to make an exception for Ebenholtz, but that could be controlled at desk level.

"Alphonse von Stauffen."

I remembered his name.

Then and now, he criticized the Empire's corruption, and after the New Cabinet rose, he criticized their hypocrisy as well.

That meant he was not Revolutionary Faction. He was simply a good man to the bone who stood for the poor.

Knock knock.

My office door opened. It was Tiana.

"Max. You have been in the papers a lot lately."

"Proof that the media is functioning properly."

"What are you even talking about."

I set the newspaper down and asked,

"Why are you here?"

"We got assigned a joint operation."

"A joint operation?"

Just as I was about to ask what she meant, a trauma rose from deep in my memory.

The worst mission of my knight career. The mission that had half broken the old me. A mission that even now made me feel instinctive fear.

"I still do not know what it is either. Come with me. Sir Knight Yulian is calling."

Tiana gestured and walked out.

"..."

I suppressed the old nightmare and took a quiet deep breath. My heart pounded hard, but I smiled again.

No reason to be afraid. I am not who I used to be. If anything, this is something to welcome. A moment I should be glad for.

Because the chance had returned to change one of the shittiest parts of my past.

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