Chapter 83: Before Spring Comes (6) Layers of tanks encircled the Genen Autonomous Region. Inside, the department heads of the Governor-General's office were busy drafting a letter to the Imperial Court.
[...As the suppression of the recent riots in Genen has been successfully concluded, we request that the military forces and tanks be withdrawn. Furthermore, as this incident stemmed from a lack of authority and personnel within the Governor-General's office, as well as an absence of censorship, we ask that the office's control be further strengthened to prevent such unfortunate events in the future...]
Erio, the Head of Internal Affairs, sent a messenger via his secretary.
A vehicle pulled out of the Governor-General's office and sped down the road. However, they didn't get far before they were forced to stop. Military barricades had been erected at every intersection.
"Halt."
Soldiers stood in front of the car. The secretary rolled down the window, his tone irritated.
"Yes, yes. We are messengers from the Governor-General's office. We are on our way to deliver a confidential letter to the Imperial Court, so open the way."
"..."
The soldiers didn't answer. Instead, they stared intently into the car.
"Hello? Did you hear me?"
"The area is under curfew."
"What? I told you, we're from the Governor-General's office! Communication is completely cut off because of the mana barrier, so we have to go in person. Move aside."
"..."
Despite the secretary's urging, the soldier silently retreated into the guard post and made a radio call.
It was a 'Band Resonance Communicator,' the only device that worked while the mana barrier rendered all other radio and mana waves in Genen useless. These short-range military radios were designed with finely crushed mana stones—whose frequencies and mana wavelengths were perfectly matched during manufacturing—embedded inside, allowing them to resonate only with specifically designated devices.
After a moment, the soldier stepped back out.
"Hey! Can you hear me? I said we're in a hurry!"
The secretary shouted, tapping his wristwatch. The soldier signaled somewhere, and the surrounding troops swarmed the vehicle.
Clatter!
They yanked the car doors open without warning.
"Step out."
"What the—? I told you, we're with the Governor-General! Do you have any idea how important this letter—"
"I said get out!"
A soldier grabbed the secretary by the collar and dragged him out roughly.
"Urgh! Hey, you bastard, what's your name! I'm a secretary of the Governor-General's office! How dare you lay a hand on me!"
"Drag them away!"
After subduing the secretary and the driver, the soldiers confiscated their letter.
*
In a shabby house on the outskirts of the Genen Autonomous Region, Alphonse sat at the dining table with the family living there. They were kind people who had allowed him to stay for several days and nights.
"Thank you. For taking such good care of me."
But it was time to leave. Alphonse pulled a pre-prepared envelope from his coat and pushed it toward the corner of the table.
"No, no. That's quite—"
"We're leaving now!"
Hoping this small amount of money would help their household, Alphonse stood up abruptly before the family could voice their refusal.
"Let's go."
Alphonse looked at his companion—the Genen man who had served as his guide since they left the Empire.
"Ugh, it's cold."
The man pulled his coat tight. Deep inside his inner pocket, right against his heart, the film canister felt heavy.
Roads crushed by tank treads, bleeding students, the interview with Adeline's father, photos of the deceased—everything about the situation in Genen that the Imperial media tried to hide, and the truth behind the shooting incident, was contained within that small roll of film.
"...I'll be in your hands for the way back, just like when we came."
Alphonse bowed his head to the man.
"Yes. Let's move quickly."
They climbed into a truck. The engine sounded exceptionally loud, but fortunately, the streets were deserted. The truck drove through the darkness, where even the streetlights were dead.
They took a winding path that bypassed the city center and climbed the mountainside. It was a rugged route known only to Genen locals.
Thump. Thump.
Every time the truck jolted, Alphonse clutched the camera in his lap.
How many hours had passed as he broke into a cold sweat from the tension?
"...We're almost there. Once we cross that ridge—"
Just as the driver began to smile with relief, Flash—!
A powerful searchlight erupted. A wave of white light slammed into the truck's windshield.
Screeeech!
The driver slammed on the brakes.
"Halt."
Solid figures stepped out from beyond the light. Imperial regular soldiers, wearing steel helmets and armed with rifles.
Step. Step.
One of the soldiers approached and tapped on the truck window.
Knock, knock.
"Checkpoint."
Alphonse swallowed hard. His heart hammered wildly, but he forced his trembling hands into his pockets and rolled down the window.
"Identification, please."
The tone was businesslike. The soldier's dry gaze swept over the interior of the truck.
"Sir. Your ID."
"Ah, right. Yes."
Alphonse slowly reached into his coat. Passing the film canister that brushed against his fingertips, he pulled out his leather wallet.
"Here..."
The identification of an Imperial noble, Alphonse von Stauffen, was handed over to the soldier.
The soldier's eyes narrowed slightly as he checked it.
"...Wait a moment. Hey, come over here!"
The soldier called for another—a soldier of slightly higher rank. They whispered in low voices, glancing back and forth between the ID and Alphonse's face.
— I think it's him.
— Yes. It looks like it. The description matches.
— Hmm. Then...
The sounds were ominous.
Alphonse secretly pulled out the film canister and slid it toward the driver's thigh.
"Listen. If we get held up, I'll draw their attention. You know what to do, right?"
If he caused a scene, the soldiers' eyes would be on him. He had to save the film, even if it meant he was caught.
Thump. Thump.
He took a deep breath and began to warm up his mana. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in so long it seemed foreign. His heart raced.
Thump. Thump.
Meanwhile, the soldiers, adjusting their rifles, stepped right up to the truck...
Knock, knock.
They tapped on the front door.
Thump. Thump.
Alphonse prepared to fling the door open and bolt at any second. As a noble, mana was a basic skill. He could at least make himself run very fast.
"Alright. You're clear."
Just as they were about to return the ID to Alphonse.
Bam!
"Go!"
Alphonse swung the door open with all his might.
Wait, did they say 'clear'?
The timing between the words he heard and his own actions clashed, and his entire body skipped across the ground like a stone.
"...Gah!"
Roll, roll. He tumbled four or five times.
"Urgh! Cough, cough!"
"What are you doing?"
"Aargh!"
"..."
The soldiers looked at Alphonse as if he were absurd. Alphonse laughed awkwardly and scrambled to his feet.
"Ahem. I, uh, I tripped. But, wait, what did you say? I can go?"
"Yes."
They didn't seem to be joking. The soldiers actually opened the barricade.
"You may leave. But why would an Imperial noble come to a place like this?"
"Oh, well... I had some business. Someone I had to meet."
"Ah, I see. Actually, a radio message came in for you from the garrison base."
"...For me?"
Alphonse tilted his head and asked back.
"Yes. They said to tell you that the night is cold, so why such a hurry? They told us to make sure you travel in peace."
Alphonse's expression froze instantly.
He didn't need to ask who 'they' were. A specific voice replayed in his ears.
— The night is cold, so why such a hurry? Go in peace...
The Knight of Ebenholtz, Maximilian von Ebenholtz.
*
Before the department heads of the Governor-General's office could even wonder why their messages weren't being answered, the suppression forces requested a meeting first. However, the location was the garrison base, not the Governor's residence.
"The garrison base, huh..."
"Well, I suppose the security would be tighter there."
Thinking there was no reason to refuse, the high-ranking officials of the Governor-General's office headed there.
"Welcome."
At the Genen garrison base, Maximilian, sitting at the head of the table, greeted the department heads as they entered the conference room. Seated around him were various generals, including Major General Maut, the commander of the suppression forces.
"Please, take a seat."
The department heads sat down with relaxed smiles.
Maximilian spoke first.
"It seems the suppression is in its final stages."
"Haha. Yes. It's all thanks to your tank unit, Sir Knight."
Kaltz, the Head of Finance, responded. He was a noble who had spent his bribe-bought term embezzling taxes through shell corporations and seizing real estate from the common people by exploiting legal loopholes.
"You cleared them out quite satisfyingly."
This was Molt, the Head of Land Affairs. A villain who had evicted the residents of Genen under the guise of redevelopment and privatized the land for a pittance.
— Hahahaha.
The department heads laughed, but the soldiers did not. The generals' gazes were, if anything, bleak.
"...?"
The officials suddenly felt a chill run down their spines. The laughter died away, and a heavy silence filled the room.
"In that case."
Maximilian's golden eyes were devoid of emotion. His gaze, resembling burning desert sands, quietly observed the bureaucrats.
"There is one last thing left."
Now that the justification had been built, it was time to swing the sword.
— Thud!
The conference room door closed. The sound of it locking echoed with unusual clarity.
The flustered department heads looked around the room.
"Now, you must take responsibility for the end of this riot."
The silence deepened.
The department heads twitched their faces as if trying to process what they had just heard. But as if the thought itself was unacceptable, a faint, hollow laugh spread across the lips of everyone except Erio.
"...Haha. Sir Knight, you certainly have a sense of humor. Hahaha."
Maximilian remained still despite the words of someone denying reality. The generals stood like statues, not moving an inch. This was not an atmosphere for trading jokes.
As they grasped the situation, the complexions of the department heads turned ashen one by one.
"Your joke has gone too far, Sir Knight. Responsibility for the riot? That belongs to the rioters out there—"
"—To you."
Maximilian cut the words off coldly.
"You have brought shame upon the Empire. Your vulgar desires spiraled out of control, and your ignorance, incompetence, and filthy corruption have shaken the prestige of the Empire. Therefore, you shall be placed upon the altar of judgment."
"W-What!"
Vango, the Head of Justice, leaped to his feet. His face flushed red; he was the culprit who had forced the hasty verdict in the Adeline case.
"You can't do this! We are department heads of the Genen Governor-General's office, appointed by the Imperial Court! We did our best to settle this situation, but the rioters went out of control! And yet you say we are to stand trial!"
Maximilian turned his gaze toward Erio, the Head of Internal Affairs. Erio might have expected this to some extent. He would have lost contact with the Izenheims around him by now.
"...You seem to be mistaken. There will be no trial."
But it didn't matter what a damn Izenheim thought, or what the department heads here felt.
"This place, where I stand, is the altar of judgment."
They wouldn't be around much longer anyway.
— Tick.
Time slowed down. Maximilian gripped the sword at his waist. In an instant, a blade bloomed, tracing an elegant arc. Moonlight scattered like shards as crimson streaks sprayed through the air.
* * *
Blood flowed through the conference room. Beheaded bodies lay sprawled on the floor, and severed heads rolled into the corners.
The space reeked of blood.
Yet, Maximilian, standing in the center, didn't have a single drop of blood on him. He simply looked around the room, standing straight, mysteriously calm and clean.
Flick.
Major General Maut pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, he asked Maximilian.
"Want one?"
"No. I'm fine."
Maximilian shook his head. The generals exchanged glances. Aside from the summary execution during wartime, there was a realistic concern about the cleanup.
"However..."
Maut began.
"These men were officials appointed by the Imperial Court. Will you be alright?"
Maximilian shrugged nonchalantly.
"Do not worry. The autopsies will provide the results."
He gestured toward the corpses with his chin.
"Some will turn out to be sub-species."
One side of Major General Maut's mouth quirked up. Indeed, if it was an Ebenholtz, they could certainly handle the fallout.
"Some will be traitors who tried to seize power by using the Revolutionary Group—"
And some—no, all of them—would simply be criminals who deserved to die...
A faint, mocking smile touched Maximilian's lips.
"This execution was all for the sake of the Empire."
Creak.
Maximilian pushed the window open slightly. The cool night air flowed in.
"His Majesty will surely understand our intentions."
Major General Maut watched him while exhaling a long trail of smoke.
The silhouette of the young knight standing against the moonlight.
It was a familiar image. In fact, it felt like something he had seen before. It overlapped with the back of a certain giant he had encountered long ago, when he was young.
Zebestian.
His son had grown so much already.
"Now, let us go."
Maximilian stepped through the blood and opened the conference room door.
"To where we must go."
*
By the time morning arrived, the commanders stepped outside the garrison base.
It was a magnificent sight. Hundreds of tanks occupying the streets of Genen growled with the sound of their engines, and beside them, armed soldiers stood in endless ranks.
Snap!
The soldiers saluted the generals in unison.
"Loyalty—!"
A path created by tens of thousands of soldiers and hundreds of tanks.
Maximilian walked down the very center of the empty road, while the citizens of Genen watched from hiding. Major General Maut and the other generals followed behind him.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of military boots echoed off the asphalt. As he walked between the saluting soldiers, Major General Maut felt an unknown emotion surging from deep within his chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It wasn't just him. The eyes of the generals following behind also began to shine with a light from their younger days.
A certain thrill they had long forgotten, or perhaps one that had grown stale after being pushed aside by those strangers called the Imperial Guard.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
They looked at the back of Maximilian, who stood before them.
He was certainly a young knight, but they felt no hesitation in walking behind him. Their pride was not wounded.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Decisive judgment. The power to use any means necessary for the goal.
Above all, a lineage and grace so perfect it seemed to have been molded from the very ideal of the Imperial Aran people.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
If anything, it felt strange for me to stand in front of that man. Following behind him felt like the natural order, and being able to keep pace with him felt like a privilege.
And so—they arrived at the Genen Governor-General's building.
A man stood there.
The Governor of the Genen Autonomous Region. A high-ranking official equivalent to a Vice-Minister in the Imperial bureaucracy.
To the man, whose face was stiff as if he had already heard the news, Maximilian approached and extended his hand.
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