Chapter 132: The Face of the Empire (5) The vast, open sea of Volska. On the deck of a ship, where the bows met like two heads pressed together, Hannah tightened her grip on her sword.
I scanned her from head to toe. She was bleeding profusely, and a sound like bone scraping against lung leaked out with every breath she took.
"Is it just us?" Hannah asked.
Her physical state made it clear she hoped that wasn't the case, yet her eyes remained as fiercely alive as a predator's.
I gestured toward the space behind us.
"The Empire maintains order through strength."
If anyone seeks to crush the weak simply because they are strong, they must be prepared to be crushed in turn. For they are never the only ones with power.
However, because everyone in the Empire knows this, they invented 'promises' for internal affairs. Since the law of the jungle is the logic of beasts, they established plausible excuses called 'justifications.'
"And," I allowed a thin smile to touch my lips, "we have the justification to set that order right."
PHHHH-OOOOOOOONNNNNN!
Suddenly, the blast of a ship's horn shook the sea. The thick fog surged and began to dissipate. Beyond the veil of mist, steel silhouettes emerged.
One, two, three, four...
Warships surrounded the tugboat from all sides.
Kanilan-standard warships. Might fueled by the power of pure capital.
"Hannah! Max! Hellooo!"
Atop one of them, Leon waved his hands brightly.
—...
The Imperial Guards fell silent. The red glow emanating from the slits in their helmets flickered and dimmed.
"Now, I shall give you a choice."
I lowered my longsword, angling it downward. There was no longer a need to trade blows with them.
"If the cannons fire and this ship sinks, can you survive here?"
The armor of the Imperial Guard is unique. To prevent capture and to stop desertion, it is bound by magic that makes it impossible for the wearer to remove it themselves.
But because of that, the Guards are tethered to the earth. Their density is greater than water; if they fall into the sea, they will inevitably sink and drown.
"The vessel you prepared for your escape has already been seized."
I had cut off their retreat completely.
"So, remove your helmets quietly."
The helmet is the only exception to the Guard's armor. It is the only part that can be detached, for the sake of breathing and eating. However, for a Guard, having their helmet removed is considered a profound disgrace.
— Do you think an Ebenholtz can strip a Centurion of his helmet and walk away unscathed? the Centurion warned in a suppressed voice. It was a petty display of pride.
I took a calm breath.
"Listen closely."
Whish—
A cold sea breeze swept in, tossing my hair.
"I am Maximilian von Ebenholtz. Even the sum of everything you all possess does not equal me."
I looked down at them with cold arrogance as I spoke.
"You don't even reach the soles of my feet."
This was a fact that would never change 'within this Empire.'
"You are leeches by nature, destined to crawl upon the ground. We are of a different breed entirely."
As the heir of Ebenholtz, as a human being rather than a mere cog in the Empire's machine, the Imperial Guards were nothing more than commoners raised within the palace walls.
No, perhaps they were simply slaves.
— Why, you crazy—!
One Guard stepped forward in a fit of rage, but—
— Stop.
The Centurion restrained him.
— ...Sigh.
He let out a heavy breath, as if swallowing his humiliation, and removed his helmet with his own hands.
I stared indifferently at his revealed face.
"No matter who you are, it would be wise not to interfere too deeply in the affairs of the Imperial Palace."
It was a predictable warning. The Palace was a place where an entirely different logic and hierarchy of status applied compared to the outside world.
Which was exactly why I had prepared a document in advance.
"Do you still... think I am alone?"
Flutter.
The paper drifted through the wind toward the Centurion. It was a certificate of full support for the 'Hannah Usar' case and a strong condemnation of acts harmful to the Empire. At the bottom was the clear, distinct signature of Reutern II.
"..."
People often mistakenly believe the Imperial Guard is an organization solely for the Emperor, but the reality is different. They protect the entire den of iniquity that is the Imperial Palace, and they are creatures born and raised within it. They are soaked to the bone in the factional infighting and political maneuvering of the nobility.
In that regard, Reutern was a titan who stood at the very top of the Palace nobility in terms of sheer influence. He was a man of remarkably pure blood.
This meant he belonged to a power capable of crushing the 'Julius' faction that this Centurion served.
"Reutern..."
The Centurion's pupils trembled as he confirmed the document.
He furrowed his brow slightly, seemingly puzzled by the 'II' attached to the name, but he could not deny the weight it carried.
"...Understood. Send us back to the Empire."
The Centurion had removed his helmet, and the remaining Guards lost their will to fight.
The operation was over.
*
The Imperial Palace of the Empire. Reutern I received major news from Volska.
It was a report that the will of his son, Reutern II, had brought a certain 'agenda' to the surface.
"Duke Reutern. What will you do?"
A close aide asked cautiously. The opposition was the Julius faction, which held formidable power even within the Palace. For the Reutern Family, a direct confrontation was a burdensome prospect.
However, Reutern I's eyes gleamed as he scrutinized the document his son had signed and the circumstances behind it.
"The justification is sufficient."
The crime of embezzling weapons under the cover of the Gigantes terror incident and smuggling them out, draining the national wealth. With such a perfect justification, he could easily cut the throats of his enemies.
Of course, Julius hadn't originally been their direct political rival, but...
"...Ha, well now. This boy."
Reutern I was suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar sense of pride.
Everyone in the Palace whispered that his son was a spoiled brat. As his father, he wasn't deaf to those ridiculing voices.
But Reutern I was not merely a blind father; as a statesman who judged the measure of men, he had already seen the 'ambition' engraved deep within his son.
A child who, since he was young, loved playing with toy soldiers and devising war strategies.
A precious bloodline obtained late in life, after two miscarriages, when he was nearly fifty. A clever boy who was the spitting image of his own youth.
That was why.
"Is he finally waking up...?"
There was no way a descendant of this noble royal bloodline could lack ambition.
Could it be that all his past debauchery was a meticulous disguise to deceive his enemies?
Whichever it was.
"He is finally breaking out of his shell."
Reutern I clenched his fist, calming his racing heart.
"As a father, my only task is to provide full support. Use the entire strength of the royal faction to back him."
"Yes. I shall keep that in mind."
A descendant of royalty carving out his own power and purging treacherous officials.
Father Reutern was so proud he was on the verge of tears.
...
Meanwhile, at the luxurious villa of Reutern II.
Scratch. Scratch.
He was sprawled out on a plush sofa, scratching his belly.
"Ah, I'm hungry."
He let out a wide yawn and rolled over.
"...Should I go out?"
Lilac Vita. The food there was amazing. Maybe he should go eat there again.
He picked up the terminal on the table and pressed the numbers.
Ring... Ring...
Max wasn't answering.
"Ah, damn it, why isn't he picking up? I don't want to eat in the Palace."
The public thought the Palace was served all sorts of hot delicacies every day, but that was nonsense. Because they had to poke and prod everything to check for poison, the food was usually cold and mangled by the time it reached him, looking like leftovers.
"Oh, right. He said he went to Volkas."
Volkas, Volkas...
For the record, it was Volska, not Volkas, but regardless.
"Tonkatsu?"
It sounded a bit like Tonkatsu. A dish that had recently entered the Empire from somewhere in the West and was becoming quite trendy.
"I'm craving it."
People outside were raving about how delicious it was.
"Hmm-hmm~"
Reutern II quickly stood up.
"Hey! Get ready to head out!"
He summoned his escort knights and dressed himself with a grin. Still, it would be embarrassing if the reason for his outing was just to eat Tonkatsu, so he put on a robe to hide his identity.
"Volkas. I wonder what kind of food it is..."
...
Meanwhile, in another villa of the Imperial Palace.
"Reutern, that little brat—!"
Julius, who had embezzled wealth by writing off the Gigantes inventory as a total loss, accidentally knocked over his chair upon hearing his subordinate's report. Thud! The chair leg snapped as it tumbled pathetically.
"...Lord Julius."
On his table lay the document scrawled with Reutern II's signature.
The one strongly condemning those who harmed the Empire in relation to the 'Hannah Usar' case...
"Why that damn brat? Why is that loudmouth idiot, who usually does nothing but act like a fool, suddenly throwing a fit!"
Slam!
This time, he hurled an ashtray. Ash and glass shards exploded.
"That moron with the IQ of a dolphin... what's gotten into him?"
He growled through gritted teeth, clutching his hair.
"Dammit..."
A hierarchy—a pyramid—existed even within the Imperial Palace. Royalty occupied a very high position within it.
In that sense, the royals Julius and Reutern had a de facto agreement not to interfere with one another.
But suddenly, that boy had teamed up with the Knights and struck directly at his most sensitive weakness.
If Reutern was shielding the Sentinels, his influence was not something that could be easily blocked.
"Where did Reutern II go?"
"He is reported to have left the Palace with his escort knights. Seeing as he left without a word and hid his identity, it seems he may have already perfectly rendezvoused with the Sentinels..."
"..."
Julius fell silent. In that quiet room where his subordinates bowed their heads in pale-faced terror—
"Son of a bitch."
A curse unbecoming of royal dignity settled like cigarette smoke.
...
"Whoa, what is this?"
At a famous Tonkatsu restaurant on the outskirts of the capital, Reutern II's eyes widened as he held his knife and fork.
"The taste is fascinating. Truly."
Crunch.
Thick pork coated in breadcrumbs and flour, then deep-fried in oil—an exquisite dish. Who on earth could have come up with such a cooking method?
These lowly commoners might be useless at everything else, but they certainly knew how to make incredible food.
— Hey! How old are you? Huh?!
Just then, a harsh shout erupted from a corner of the restaurant.
— You gonna run your business like this? You piece of shit!
A drunk troublemaker was causing a scene, grabbing a waiter by the collar.
"Ugh, that dimwit. Making all that noise while I'm trying to eat."
Reutern II furrowed his brow and set down his knife. A wave of irritation washed over him.
He gestured with his chin to the escort knight behind him.
"Hey."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Get rid of that guy."
"Yes, My Lord."
The escort knight walked over the moment he answered.
— You little shit, come out here, you— Argh! Gack!
The sound of a wet impact was followed by a short scream. The escort knight lightly snapped the man's joints and tossed his large frame out like a sack of garbage.
"Delicious."
Reutern picked up his fork again and neatly tucked the remaining Tonkatsu into his mouth.
"Hey. Another plate of this."
He instructed the returning escort knight, pointing to his empty plate.
"Yes, My Lord."
Just as the escort was about to go and stand at the back of the long line in front of the counter—
"No, hey! What are you doing!"
Reutern II shouted irritably. The escort blinked in confusion.
"Pardon?"
"Don't stand in line, just tell them to give it to you. Why would you wait for that?"
"...Yes, My Lord."
The escort took the hint, pushed past the commoners, and stood at the very front of the line. Perhaps as a reward for getting rid of the troublemaker, the people didn't say much.
*
The Empire, Sentinel Knights Headquarters.
Hannah had returned safely, bringing with her the evidence of weapons smuggling recovered from Volska.
"Phew."
She took a deep breath in front of Maximilian's office.
Knock, knock.
She entered the office.
"Sir."
Maximilian didn't look up from his documents but gestured to the seat in front of him. Hannah went and stood before him.
"Did you submit the evidence?"
"Yes. I handed everything over to the administrative officers outside."
"Good work. Once this case is fully closed, your name will be at the very top of the merit report."
It was a dry commendation from Maximilian.
Hannah bowed her head.
"Thank you."
It was the proper etiquette to show for a superior's consideration, but the words felt hollow in her mouth.
"There's no need to be thankful."
Maximilian raised his gaze to look at her. His golden eyes pierced through Hannah's exhausted appearance.
"In the end, everything is—"
"—For the Empire."
Hannah whispered, as if intercepting his next words. Maximilian let out a short, dry chuckle.
"You know it well."
"Yes. Sir, however..."
She stared at Maximilian for a moment.
On the cold sea of Volska, in that space thick with mist. His silver sword strike that had mercilessly claimed Gale's life. That 'face' that had fallen onto the deck kept flickering before her eyes.
"What... will happen to Sir Gale then?"
"Everything will be stripped from him. His family will likely have to leave the Empire as well. That is the end for a criminal. A Knight of the Empire must never dare to be subordinate to the Palace, nor volunteer for slavery."
"..."
Hannah lowered her gaze. A senior knight she had believed would lead her, as a fellow commoner.
Yet, for his own advancement, he had pushed his junior into a death trap and ended up buried in the cold sea.
"Was there... a better way?" Hannah suddenly murmured in a self-deprecating tone.
Maximilian set down his pen. He gazed steadily at Hannah.
"...You said something like that before."
A fragment of a memory from two years ago flashed through his mind.
Back when he had taken the head of Jacob, the Izenheim cadet, a seventeen-year-old Hannah had whispered resentfully.
'There must have been a better way. Surely.'
Maximilian stood up from his seat.
Slowly, he approached her.
"My answer is always the same."
He placed a hand on her bandaged shoulder.
"..."
Hannah looked up at Maximilian without a word.
He was a man who did not waver.
A man who knew where he was going and moved forward endlessly, chasing only the greater cause.
A knight who had forged a conviction as sharp as a blade through absolute belief in himself.
He repeated those words to me.
"This is the way."
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