WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 77

──────

A Friend of a Friend

The Imperial Palace's direct agency oversaw both the Intelligence Bureau and the Secret Police Bureau, but it was cut from slightly different cloth.

If the Intelligence Bureau was the hand that detected external enemies, and the Secret Police Bureau was the foot that struck internal threats, then the direct agency was the head that coordinated and controlled them both.

"...I see."

Lutz Rozen. As head of the direct agency's Special Affairs Inspection Department, which tracked subversives harmful to the Empire, he had caught a distinctly suspicious flow of money.

"Clever. Very clever, but..."

Lutz skimmed the fund-tracking report his subordinate had brought.

"Yes. The funds came out of the military factory Maximilian built in Hermes."

It was embezzlement and laundering. Some of the money paid out under the pretext of factory equipment investment had been split and remitted to shell companies set up across the western kingdoms.

From there, it passed through several countries, was laundered into bearer bonds, and flowed into untraceable accounts.

A meticulous route for siphoning off private capital and building slush funds.

"Keep watching it. Do not miss even one dollar."

Lutz suppressed a smile.

So Maximilian, in the end, was just another greedy noble.

One of countless nobles who preached loyalty to the Empire while sucking it dry behind the scenes to line their own pockets.

"Will this be all right? He is an Ebenholtz..."

"That industrial complex is a state industry project. It was His Majesty's direct order."

When Maximilian had said, "I do not need taxpayer support," the Emperor had instead been moved and granted him a certain amount of funding. He had been impressed by that very loyalty, Maximilian's pledge to pour in personal wealth and fill the gap left by Gigantes.

But what if all of it was a lie, and it came out that the factory had been used for embezzlement and money laundering?

"Keep him under steady watch."

The crime of betraying the Emperor was grave. Not even Sebestian's influence could cover it up.

"When the laundered amount has piled up enough."

A smile curled at the corner of Lutz's mouth.

"I will bite his throat."

* * *

The dining hall in my mansion. One by one, works of art by Chef Mepungi were set on the table.

For the appetizer, scallop tartare flown in from the northern frozen sea, topped with caviar. For the main, top-grade veal tenderloin reduced in red wine, and steamed black abalone in saffron cream sauce.

This was my daily rest.

"People can rest. A factory cannot."

I cut into the tender abalone and spoke about my factory.

"At root, it was an efficiency problem. Gigantes handled a large portion of imperial military production, yes, but its method was inefficient. They fed people into the grinder to make up for low productivity."

Exploitation was not Gigantes's only problem.

"So even children were consumed. We do not need that."

My factory ran a three-shift system and never stopped, twenty-four hours a day. A precise algorithm designed by Dieter himself, one I still could not fully understand. Security and inspections were tighter than anywhere else.

"Then labor costs will cut your profits."

Editor-in-chief Celine Dubois sounded worried about profitability. I only smiled.

"It was never a business meant to make profit."

"Then what is it for?"

"For the Empire."

And then, just as I lifted a piece of abalone to my mouth.

"...Kraaaagh!"

Without warning, Alphonse sprang up with a crash.

"Guilt, no, rage beyond guilt is surging up and I cannot sit here! This kind of luxury food, laid out with the blood and sweat of the lower classes! Fuck!"

He had not touched his food from the start, only fiddled with his fork with a face like he had chewed shit. Then he threw down his napkin and stormed out.

"..."

"..."

Celine and I stared blankly at his retreating back.

In the silence, Celine sighed.

"I am sorry. He is a bit unusual. I have recommended psychiatric evaluation several times, but he refuses to listen."

I raised an eyebrow and shook my head.

"No. I rather like him."

"...Pardon?"

"Reporter Alphonse is at least consistent. Far from two-faced..."

He was the same in front and behind.

A man with convictions of his own, perhaps far better than someone like me.

"That is what true nobility looks like."

Celine gave a dry laugh.

"Noble? Even after cursing like that and running out in the middle of dinner?"

"Manners are just a shell in the end. At least, that is what I think. Editor-in-chief, you too have smelled the rot on polished nobles more times than you can count."

"...No comment."

I looked at Celine for a long moment.

A question came to mind.

"Editor-in-chief. What kind of smell do I have?"

I was measuring her.

At Tiger Mask, at Thomas Wagner's request, I had willingly spared her life. But if she became harmful to me.

"I am not particularly good at smelling people. I can smell the scented candle, at least."

I laughed softly.

"Editor-in-chief. I heard you took a week of sick leave after the Gigantes destruction incident."

"Yes. I had a severe flu. It damaged my bronchial tubes, so my voice is still a little hoarse."

Celine answered as if nothing were wrong.

Scrape, scrape.

I cut the remaining abalone. Smoothly, like slicing through someone's throat.

"...I see."

We stood and shook hands.

Then I noticed the scratches on her hand. They had not healed yet, marks that looked like traces of wire use.

"Then, Sir Knight. The meal was excellent."

In this Empire, there were surely capable investigators who would suspect Celine from that alone.

"...Editor-in-chief Celine."

I stopped her as she was about to leave.

After the Gigantes terror, Rabbit Mask had been identified as one of the operatives. All the weapons and equipment used had already been disclosed.

That meant the investigation into her was already proceeding very aggressively.

"Until that wound fully heals."

So I chose to kindly point out the carelessness left on her hand.

"I think you should wear gloves."

For an instant, Celine's eyes trembled.

I smiled and added,

"It should not get infected."

"...Yes. Thank you."

She bowed and left the mansion.

I watched coldly as she hurriedly shoved her hand into her pocket.

* * *

Winter before the New Year. Around this time every year, events were held. It almost felt endless.

This year was the same in tone and extravagance, but most people wanted to hold them in the capital, or as close to it as possible. Safety concerns, born of the Gigantes terror and the Empire's recent mood.

Of course, for now it was still a safe zone. According to my memories from before regression, no major incident would happen immediately.

That did not mean we could relax. Beneath the surface, many things were already beginning to twist, slowly but surely.

...Then one evening.

Unexpected guests arrived at my mansion.

"Lieutenant General Litruman?"

The headmaster of Empire Point, Lieutenant General Litruman, stood there with an unfamiliar general beside him.

"Brigadier General Hagen as well."

"Ah. You know my name? Well, we did exchange names back at the Ebenholtz main house."

So we had met before.

To be honest, I had recognized him from his nameplate first.

"What brings the two of you here...?"

"Well, Sir Knight Maximilian."

Lieutenant General Litruman gave an awkward cough and a bitter smile.

"Please, come in first."

I led them into the reception room. The moment they sat down, both Litruman and Hagen wore deeply aggrieved expressions.

"It is embarrassing to even say this, but we planned this Imperial Solidarity Dinner..."

The Solidarity Dinner was, simply put, a banquet where regular army generals and senior officers gathered. A tradition of more than a century, where commanders bonded as comrades and reaffirmed unity.

"We received sudden notice. They said the venue had to be used for a New Year gala for noble businesspeople. Even though we made the reservation much earlier."

Litruman's face flushed with humiliation.

"I see."

That was the regular army's current standing. Nobles and businesspeople looked down on them. Even with rumors of war, no one believed the regular army would become the true power. They only cared about pleasing the Emperor's Imperial Guard.

A classic omen of a failing state, political soldiers rising while field soldiers were sidelined.

I pretended to think for a moment, then spoke.

"I assume you are not looking for retaliation. You need a venue for the dinner, yes?"

"That would be right."

"Then I will provide a suitable space."

I owned several buildings. I had even built a few myself. Lately, sharp-eyed foreigners and lower-ranked races had been leaving the Empire, and I had been buying up the properties they put on the market for cheap.

"I-is that true?"

Lieutenant General Litruman's face lit up. It was a rare expression on a man long past middle age.

"Yes. In return, leave the operation of the Solidarity Dinner to me. As you know, I have some expertise in cuisine and banquets. I will create something far more beautiful than their party, and perfectly suited to the dignity of soldiers."

This was for the future. A good chance to plant goodwill in the regular army.

"Can we trust that? Our budget is not very generous..."

"Lieutenant General."

I stood and opened a display cabinet in my study. Litruman's command sword, which I had won for two million dollars at the last charity auction, was preserved there with care.

I had considered throwing it out, but left it there in case it might be useful someday.

I took it out and offered it respectfully.

"The Battle of Rostalon Heights on the western front. I heard both you and Brigadier General Hagen defended the Empire in that hell."

Litruman's eyes widened. His hands trembled as he accepted his old sword. Hagen beside him looked like a man returned to his youth.

This was the point. In an Empire that treated them with contempt, I had to make them feel that here, at least, they were respected more than anyone.

In the end, we would have to face every terrible thing together.

"Compared to that day's honor, costs like seating and food are trivial. I will cover everything."

If you had money and did not hesitate to spend it, winning favor was easy.

"...Thank you. Truly, thank you."

Litruman thumped the medal on his chest.

"Yes. Please look forward to it."

At the very least, soldiers never forgot a meal offered when they were at their lowest. That was the kind of people they were.

"Then we will see you that day."

I saw both men out at the front door myself, then returned to my office.

"Rough budget, a few million..."

If I did not hold back, that was the range. A few million for one party.

It was close to burning money, but if it left a strong impact on a gathering of the regular army's so-called top brass, it was not a bad trade.

Bzzzzzz.

The terminal rang. It was Zendo from the Gennen branch office.

“Sir Knight.”

"What is it?"

“The atmosphere has not been normal lately.”

The situation in Gennen had been getting more and more severe. The sparks from Gigantes were flying to the wrong place.

"How bad?"

“Even we are under surveillance. Secret Police Bureau bastards are pouring in right now.”

The Secret Police Bureau. More sinister than the Intelligence Bureau, more vicious than the Imperial Guard. Mad dogs that tore into anyone labeled a dissident, Revolutionary Faction or not, if they were even slightly irritating.

“Last week alone, they took dozens of Gennen people with no charges at all. Maybe they think there are Revolutionary Faction underlings in Gennen, or maybe they are trying to provoke demonstrations instead.”

Some of them likely had Izenheim mixed in. And on the other side, Izenheim were likely mixed into the protesters filling Gennen's streets too.

In the end, the history called Gennen Spring would arrive.

And in that upheaval... I was still only one individual.

"...Zendo."

Izenheim were everywhere. Faces identical to humans, blended into human crowds, the entire species sharing a single catastrophic cause.

"Even if a hierarchy exists between races."

That was their greatest weapon.

They were trying to turn everyone outside the Empire against the Empire.

They were trying to pin the Empire in place as the axis of evil.

Their schemes were insidious, and above all, fucking vile. There was no better phrase for it than fucking vile.

"Gennen people can be friends of Aran people."

As one individual, what I had to do, what I could do, was to correct that blade somehow.

To focus all the Empire's hatred and destruction on "you."

"Trust me and wait."

Zendo gave a low groan and answered.

“...Yes. Understood.”

* * *

Top-grade parchment, silver-foil lettering, and a premium seal pressed onto the envelope.

The regular army's generals and field-grade commanders, including Lieutenant General Litruman, received invitations to the Imperial Solidarity Dinner.

─────

Because of your devotion, the Empire still stands strong today.

Please attend this gathering and take the rest befitting your honor.

─────

"Is this the place?"

The promised venue was an old stone building in the heart of the capital. But no butler guarded the entrance. No security checked invitations.

Litruman and the generals looked puzzled, but pushed open the heavy doors.

Creeeeak.

There was only darkness beyond.

"..."

Some generals stopped in confusion. Others went rigid.

"Lieutenant General Litruman."

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"...No."

"Ahem."

Had they been deceived? Was this another crude prank by nobles? Being ignored by businesspeople had not been enough, and now they were being mocked by a young knight too?

Just as humiliation and anger were about to boil over.

Tap, tap, tap!

With a brisk sound, the darkness receded. Soft lights flicked on in sequence from all sides, like dominoes, revealing the interior.

The soldiers caught their breath.

There was no gaudy decoration, no flashy display of nouveau riche excess. Instead, finely crafted silverware gleamed like moonlight over blindingly white tablecloths. Photos from the generals' past were displayed along the walls like classical paintings, and restrained classical music filled the room.

"Welcome."

At the center stood a butler in Ebenholtz formal attire.

"We have been waiting for you, Generals."

At his gesture, servants emerged in perfect formation.

The Empire's finest veterans, trained at the Ebenholtz main house. Their movements were clean and economical as they took the generals' coats and guided them to their seats.

Everyone sat in a daze. Soon, the waiters brought the first course.

"The appetizer is North Sea scallop carpaccio from icy waters. On top is caviar infused with an herb that grows only in the Empire's western highlands."

The plates were set down with a low explanation. The presentation looked like art.

Recently, budget constraints had left these generals with banquet food that was merely passable, so they lifted their forks carefully.

And the moment the food touched their tongues.

"...!"

"Hk!"

"Inh!"

Shocked exclamations escaped from all around, all composure gone. Every eye widened. The depth and level of pure flavor far exceeded imagination.

Melting richness. A texture sharp enough to pierce the brainstem. As though all their accumulated bitterness were being washed away... a beautiful feast of beauty itself.

"Lieutenant General Litruman!"

Brigadier General Hagen called out, voice thick with emotion. Many others looked toward Litruman as well.

Litruman dabbed the sauce at his mouth with a napkin and gave a faint smile.

"This is not my doing. It is respect from Maximilian, that young and bold knight."

Right then, sommeliers appeared and served wine.

"'Chateau de Luna, Vintage 88.' A distinguished vintage worthy of all of you."

Pop, pop! Corks burst like fanfare. Red wine soon filled the glasses.

"Chateau de Luna 88, vintage 88?"

"Good heavens... that means year 988, yes?"

"Yes, that is correct."

Even the soldiers knew the name. That rare wine, said to cost hundreds of dollars per glass, was poured generously for every one of the hundred-plus soldiers in attendance.

"Lieutenant General Litruman. Would you give a toast?"

Brigadier General Hagen suggested it. The other generals signaled their agreement. Litruman stood and raised his glass high.

"To the Empire's future, to His Majesty's eternal health, to the honor of our military. And..."

He slowly looked around this perfect space.

Not extravagant, yet luxurious, a banquet carrying even reverence for soldiers.

"To Sir Knight Maximilian, who prepared this gathering."

“To that.”

The generals answered in deep voices, keeping the dignity of the occasion, with more gravitas than ever.

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