Semi-Coercive Imperialist

Maximilian's administrative officer, Hans Wenzel.

He disguised himself as the lawyer "Thomas Idunas." A law office had appeared in Imperial District 23, its interior finished with meticulous care.

Clients came and went regularly. Most were Maximilian's informants, but a handful of ordinary people also showed up seeking genuine legal counsel.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Hans had started to feel Georgen agents trailing him.

He didn't flinch. If anything, he moved more openly than before.

He visited the site of the Alchemia destruction, gathered testimonies from Nico Beber's hometown, and sent letters up to the Imperial Guard and the upper reaches of the Empire, all the way to the palace itself.

The result finally arrived: a response to his request for an audience.

A formal invitation from Georgen Deputy Director Valerian.

"Whew......"

Hans stood in front of a mirror and recited the Imperial Civil Law and the relevant criminal code articles tied to the case. He didn't miss a single clause.

"......Good."

Satisfied, he nodded and straightened his suit. He tucked the emergency pager into his pocket. He put on his shoes.

As a proper, well-groomed lawyer, he stepped out of the office.

......

Georgen headquarters had been built on plunder from the start. The site was once a wealthy Mer businessman's trade facility, seized by force and remodeled.

Buildings renovated to the Imperial Guard's taste shared two features: right angles and height.

The iron bars stretched high enough to pierce the sky, and every wall had been cut flawlessly straight, radiating an oppressive weight.

"......Hm."

Deputy Director Valerian's office was even more so. The space held a chill like frozen air, and the classical music drifting from the phonograph felt eerily bleak.

Only Valerian's own expression stayed rich with feeling.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Thomas Idunas. Valerian von Taxis."

After checking the lawyer's ID, he smiled brightly and offered his hand.

House Taxis, one of the Empire's great names. Valerian knew better than anyone how his own smile pressed down on the people he met.

"Yes. Attorney Thomas."

Hans shook the hand and answered evenly. Valerian seemed bothered by his composure, but asked without showing it.

"Wanting to defend a terrorist Georgen rooted out. That takes some nerve."

"It's because Nico Beber is a pure Aran before he's a terrorist."

"Hm~"

Valerian's eyebrows lifted.

"So you're saying Georgen's investigation methods have a flaw... that's how it sounds to me."

"Not at all. This concerns the Empire's law and justice. Any Aran is entitled to counsel, and so I'm requesting a formal audience with Nico Beber."

Georgen was the Imperial Guard's own hand, an institution that could detain any noble under the pretext of "ideological verification."

And into that severe place, some mere lawyer had walked in on his own two feet to argue rights.

Valerian tucked the anger rising in him behind his smile.

"In that case, well. Yes. I suppose I should gladly show you the way."

"Thank you."

Tap tap. Valerian rapped two fingers on the table. The door opened and Georgen officers stepped in.

"Ah, right. Before you go, just in case, let me give you two options."

"......Options?"

"Yes. Either you go down the stairs into the basement as you are and meet Nico Beber."

Valerian's eyes curved into an arc as he looked at Hans.

"Or you set that document down right now and walk out of this building."

His smiling eyes sank cold, all at once.

"Which path is right for you, I'll leave that to your own intelligence."

"......."

Valerian gazed steadily at Hans. Hans gazed back, not looking away from his eyes, even smiling.

Valerian was the heir of House Taxis, a great name rooted in the imperial center. A man who had climbed the Imperial Guard's elite track to claim the deputy director's seat in a brand new institution.

By rank alone, the gap between them was heaven and earth.

And yet.

Why was it.

He wasn't afraid of him at all.

"I'll go down."

So, as counsel, he did not bend.

"......."

Valerian gave the officers a look, and Hans walked off together with them.

"Follow me."

Thud. Thud.

He descended an endless spiral staircase.

Thud. Thud.

The air grew damper, the light dimmer.

Thud. Thud.

Deep. As deep as a pit. Could anyone who went down here ever walk back out on their own?

Thud. Thud.

He finally reached the underground detention block. Hans handed his counsel's visitation form to the guard standing at the end of the long corridor.

The guard worked his lips like he was about to spit, ugly and hostile, but opened the door without a word.

Creeeak.

They walked a little further down the dark hallway and stopped before a cell.

"Mr. Nico Beber?"

Inside was Nico Beber, beaten into a pulp. Through the bars, Hans checked his condition and spoke to the officers.

"Bring him out. I want to meet with my client somewhere the law actually guarantees, not a place like this."

"......Hey, counselor. I'm at a loss for words here."

One of the officers gave a hollow laugh and took off his cap.

"You. Do you even know where you are right now?"

"I'm saying this because I know exactly where I am."

The officer's temple twitched for a moment. With a face fighting down anger, he gave the guard a look.

Clang.

The bars opened.

"Mr. Nico. Let's get you out of here first. Come on......"

Hans helped Nico Beber to his feet with his own hands.

* * *

I have a great deal of money, but I can't look into every corner of this vast Empire. I can't screen every ideology and every act of corruption. It's physically impossible.

Filth runs through the veins of this golem called the Empire, and all I do is find the pulse points that matter to me.

The chemical company Alchemia had corruption running through it. Imperial-style rot.

A problem that becomes a problem only if you make it one, and stays a non-problem if you don't. In this era before the coming war, that description fit practically every business in the Empire.

In the end, it all came down to who made it a problem, and how.

The structure was elaborate. Alchemia received tax support from the Ministry of Defense to purchase mana stones. On paper, they bought uniform-grade mana stones produced in the imperial interior or the western kingdoms, and collected tax refunds and subsidies on that basis.

The reality was different.

They smuggled in cheaper mana stones from the Eastern Alliance.

Eastern-produced mana stones carried uneven mana content, but were serviceable enough. Not so low-grade they'd cause outright defects.

Alchemia laundered the origin of these stones as western-made, and covered up the mana instability that surfaced during processing with clever chemical additives, deceiving everyone along the way.

The margin generated through this process passed through several shell corporations, with part of it kicked up to the Imperial Guard, and part of it, no doubt, flowing straight into Victor Heim's coffers.

"......Cunning bastard."

But no matter how thoroughly I pieced together this stack of documents, the name "Victor Heim" only ever remained a faint afterimage.

A level of care so thorough that even Dieter, without my memories from before the regression, could never have caught its tail.

Instead of paper trails, these people ran a network this massive on nothing but the belief of shared blood.

One of Izenheim's greatest weapons.

People can't trust people. But Izenheim always trusts Izenheim.

"Send this information to Hans."

I organized the fragments of truth.

"Yes. Understood."

Digging up corruption under a lawyer's name, sending anonymous letters to the Imperial Guard's leadership and every corner of the palace.

I had a rough idea how Georgen would react once they got their teeth into this information.

To put it plainly, it was a sting operation.

A plan to grab hold of the Imperial Guard's slackened leash and save Nico, a hero who had done a great service for humanity.

Operation Save Commoner Nico.

"Also, sir. The analysis results are in."

The administrative officer handed over another report. The compositional analysis of the Izenheim altar found at Alchemia.

"......Nothing?"

"Yes. That's right."

The Sentinel Magic Tower had run the analysis directly, and found nothing.

No detectable data whatsoever.

"......."

I stared blankly down at the empty figures.

The virus had clearly reacted, but the Empire's finest forensic equipment stayed silent.

Which meant it wasn't mana.

If it wasn't mana, then where exactly did their malice seep from, and where did it come pouring in from?

Every miracle, every piece of technology in this world we knew of should have originated from the circulation of mana.

"......It's not mana."

He repeated it quietly to himself, but no answer came easily.

* * *

Nico Beber's counsel, Thomas Idunas.

A letter drawn up under his name reached the upper ranks of the Imperial Guard.

A written complaint urging a full investigation into the corruption Alchemia had committed and into the chemical company's unidentified owner, and demanding the release of the detained Nico Beber.

"......Yes, General."

Heinrich, director of the political police force Georgen, took a call from deep within the Imperial Guard.

His expression stayed rigid the whole time he held the receiver.

"Understood. I'll carry out the directive."

After hanging up, Heinrich let out a hollow laugh. He raked a hand through his hair, looking utterly at a loss.

"......."

He fell into thought for a moment, then immediately dialed the internal line to Deputy Director Valerian.

......

Deputy Director Valerian took the call from Director Heinrich.

"Yes, Director. I'll arrange it that way."

The moment the call ended, he dialed again, somewhere else.

"Valerian speaking."

He leaned back against the window frame at an angle. Looking out at the view outside, he continued in a low voice.

"About the Nico Beber matter. The trial preparations should be finished without a hitch, yes? Ah~ yes. Nothing much, just that the higher-ups want the terrorist dealt with quickly...... Ah, yes, yes."

An answer came back from the other end.

The moment custody transferred from Georgen to the court, it would take two days at most. If it moved fast, the death sentence would be finalized within a single day.

"Then I'll have to ask this favor of you...... Ah, of course. Once this matter wraps up cleanly, I'll be sure to mention your hard work to my father personally, Your Honor. Of course, you truly are one of the pillars holding up the Empire's judicial system."

After trading pleasantries laced through with that, click.

He set the receiver down.

"Mmmph~"

Valerian stretched, looking satisfied.

"......Some annoying little gnat's been buzzing around, giving me a headache~"

He hummed the words like a little tune.

......

The Empire, Imperial Guard headquarters.

Whirrrr...... Whirrrr......

Hans waited blankly, catching the cool breeze from the window-unit air conditioner. He'd already been sitting in the chair outside the office for two hours.

"Um, Attorney Thomas?"

"Ah, yes."

A secretary called out his fake name.

"He says you can come in."

"Yes."

Following the secretary's lead, Hans stepped into the office.

Past a needlessly large desk at the far end of the room.

One of the Empire's great figures showed himself.

Scratch. Scratch.

The owner of the Martin Foundation and a pillar of the Imperial Guard, Lieutenant General Martin Himler.

He signed some document without so much as looking at Hans, and spoke.

"Sit."

"......Yes."

Hans had dealt with plenty of high-ranking figures during his time at the Order, but this was the first time he'd ever come this close to a general officer of the Imperial Guard.

"Thank you."

Hans sat in the chair across from him and kept his manner courteous.

"It's an honor that you'd meet me in person, Lord Himler."

"Skip the pleasantries. Get to your business."

Scratch. Scratch.

His attention still fixed entirely on the paperwork, Hans spoke calmly.

"Did you read the letter and the evidence I sent over?"

Click.

Martin's fountain pen stopped. He lifted his head and looked at Hans. His eyes had gone cold.

"What evidence, exactly?"

"That Alchemia embezzled national tax funds and smuggled in low-grade mana stones from the east, deceiving the Empire-"

"Ha ha ha."

He cut Hans off with a booming laugh.

"Interesting."

He set the fountain pen down entirely. The nib, laid out neatly, pointed straight at Hans's heart.

"Whatever you've brought here means nothing in this place."

"......What exactly do you mean by that?"

Hans asked back, feigning confusion. Martin took off his glasses and wiped them, answering lazily.

"Exactly what I said. It's not a problem. I understand that sense of justice you're carrying. Very fitting for a young man in law. But the Empire doesn't run on any individual's sense of justice. It moves only by the will of the Empire."

Martin put his glasses back on.

"Alchemia's corruption? Laundered mana stones? Even if that all happened exactly as you say, the Empire has already turned a blind eye to it. It was what the Empire wanted. Sometimes steel has to be forged even out of filth, for the sake of a greater cause still to come."

Martin Himler's gaze fixed on Hans.

Logic that belonged only to the strong, one that stood above any interpretation of the law.

......No. Sophistry.

"Alchemia was a company the Empire needed. A company that was useful to us. The only problem here is the criminal who dared to terrorize that place and disturb the order."

Martin leaned deep into his chair and smiled.

"Think about it. How exactly do you imagine a mere lawyer like yourself gets to sit across from me right now?"

"That......"

"It's because you're Aran."

"......."

Hans held his silence.

"Because you're that Aran you keep shouting about, that's the only reason I'm showing you this mercy."

Watching Martin like that, for a moment, Hans thought of the one he faced every single day, "that person."

The authority radiating off the man in front of him looked immense at first glance......

But next to "that person," it was hideously small.

A face long as a sausage. A bloated nose. Eyes dull like a fish's. A mustache grown in crooked and cheap.

"Give up the defense and go home quietly."

No matter how hard he tried to carry weight, the weight simply wouldn't hold.

"Go back to your hometown and spend your days helping out with petty legal disputes among fellow Arans."

Next to the weight Hans had felt standing beside "that person," this was nothing at all.

"Being the same Aran doesn't make everyone the same kind of person, after all."

A very true statement.

Like how the flicker of a candle poses no threat whatsoever to someone who has looked straight at the sun.

Hans shook his head.

"......I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I have to stand in that courtroom, together with my client Nico Beber."

Martin's eyes narrowed.

"......."

He studied Hans for a long moment with flat, expressionless eyes. A faint malice seeped out through that gaze.

"Understood."

As though his interest had cooled, he sighed and shook his head.

"If that's your choice, I'll respect it. Honestly, what a fool...... You may go."

"Yes. Thank you."

Hans left the office. Martin glared at his retreating back, then picked up the phone.

"......The one walking out right now."

Martin's mouth pressed into a tight line. Wrinkles like spiderwebs gathered across his long jaw.

"Handle it."

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