At the Winter Palace in Robrus, I had exchanged various words with Zerov, yet the substance of it all had been utterly hollow. Even so, Zerov, whose face all but glead with self-satisfaction, kept nodding contentedly and repeating only the words, "I shall convey this."
"I shall convey every bit of today's discussion to the Premier. He will certainly find it of interest."
Thus, diplomacy is rely diplomacy, and politics is rely politics. What matters is the person. In the end, Zerov is nothing more than Premier Varmil's loyal lapdog.
"I certainly hope so as well."
There is no need to fear the future that will soon arrive. The Premier will undoubtedly make a rational decision. He will accept the deception of non-aggression.
That is precisely why, on this incoherent chessboard, the advantage lies with .
Because I knew the course of history. Because I had already witnessed Ezenheim's designs firsthand.
"The result will likely be delivered to you after another night's rest, before your return to the Empire."
Then Zerov's face took on a puzzled expression.
"What is that aircraft you arrived in? It looked like a military transport."
This, too, was a question I had anticipated.
"Yes. It is indeed a Canilan state-of-the-art military transport aircraft. Shall I gift you one?"
"...Are you serious?"
Zerov's face suddenly lit up with interest.
"Of course. It's a gift I would be glad to give, in fact. Would the sa model I flew in on suffice?"
Goodwill that can be bought with money is the easiest kind. Besides, this transport is an older model anyway.
"In that case. We shall not refuse. Hahaha."
With those words from Zerov, the eting ended. There was one regret. I had not co face to face with the General Secretary. I already held so degree of certainty that he was Ezenheim, but the conviction I would have felt in his presence was another matter entirely.
In any case.
Back at the hotel, I sat by the window and spread out the Eastern newspapers. Most of it was criticism of the Empire, which I found rather amusing.
Knock, knock─
A knock suddenly sounded at the door.
I opened it. Yelena stood quietly before . She smiled faintly and held out a single docunt.
"It's the caviar supply contract."
"...That was rather quick. Co in."
I let her in readily.
"I hear you had quite a lengthy conversation with Commissar Zerov."
Yelena broached the subject the mont she sat down on the sofa. It seed that was her true purpose.
"Yes. We discussed the bright future of the Empire and Robrus, briefly."
I answered indifferently while scanning the contract. The nurical terms were quite reasonable.
As expected of a legitimate house of the Eastern Alliance, with no trace of nouveau-riche vulgarity to be found anywhere.
"Very well. May I sign right away?"
"As you please."
Yelena gazed at my fingertips as I signed and spoke quietly.
"The next ti we et, we may perhaps be enemies."
Without pausing my pen, I replied indifferently.
"You never know."
I handed the docunt back to Yelena. She looked out the penthouse window.
Sleet drifting down through the air. Bathed in moonlight, the scene shimred gray, looking as though it might crumble at any mont.
"Truly arduous and cruel tis lie ahead."
Gazing at the blizzard beyond the window, Yelena muttered bitterly.
"...Perhaps they are necessary. If it is for the purification of the continent."
Purification. I have no choice but to use such a word. For this continent, this world, has been contaminated by Ezenheim.
"Ha. Purification..."
But Yelena's expression hardened.
"It seems I cannot divide the value of human lives as conveniently as you do, Sir Knight."
"......."
Rather than answering, I quietly lifted my teacup, and Yelena rose from her seat.
"Then I shall take my leave."
She does not yet know the true form of the hell that is coming. But will her "righteous" convictions hold even when she faces the malice of that Subspecies in the flesh?
"Be careful, Commissar Yelena."
Over the rim of my teacup, I looked straight into her blue eyes and gave the warning. She left without so much as a reply.
* * *
The Empire. The top floor of the Sentinel Knight Order.
[ Sentinel Deputy Knight Commander Chiron von Graf ]
Chiron gazed at the naplate sitting on his oak desk with rapturous eyes. He picked up a cloth and brushed the surface of the plate.
As if there might be dust on it, swish, swish.
Swish. Swish.
Swish. Swish.
Carefully, so as not to leave a scratch, scrubbing obsessively, his hand paused at a certain mont.
"...Ah."
It had not been dust but part of the engraved pattern. Chiron let out a hollow laugh.
"Haa."
With a satisfied expression, he sank into the chair, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath from the depths of his lungs.
His assessnt of himself, having seized this position over the course of the day...
“...Perfect.”
Anton had been ousted, and Knight Commander Alberich was an old man rely awaiting retirent. Before long, the seat of Knight Commander would be his.
"Hahaha."
Chiron laughed.
'This joy is wholly my own. So people prattle on about how emptiness washes over them once they achieve a long-desired dream, but that's just how it is for the morons. Not for .'
"Kuhahaha!"
'Only joy.'
'There's no need to share this ecstasy with anyone. No need to shout it to the world. I shall simply savor this triumph with every fiber of my being!'
"Kuhahahaha! Hahahahaha────!"
He roared with laughter loud enough to make the spacious office ring.
"Phe??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????w!"
After unleashing it all, Chiron cald his ragged breathing and regained his composure.
Truth be told, the atmosphere inside the Sentinel Knight Order these days was not nearly as bright as his own mood.
That was because the rifts between the factions had deepened further since Anton's downfall.
And on top of that...
"......."
Chiron picked up the official docunt bearing a red seal, placed neatly to one side of his desk.
────[ Imperial Edict ]────
Establishnt of the Standing Minister Post and Guidelines for Sentinel Knight Order Cooperation.
For the purpose of strengthening the military and public security capabilities of the Empire, the post of "Standing Minister" is hereby newly established, to coordinate the regular army's budget, all matters of personnel authority, and police forces.
Whereas the forthcoming Standing Minister shall enhance the transparency and efficiency of the regular army and the knight orders.......
───────
Chiron's eyes narrowed coldly.
The bastards at the Imperial Palace were finally making a move to restrict Sentinel's authority.
.......
Nearly every top-secret docunt and every confidential historical record produced within the Empire was permanently stored in the Imperial Palace's Archives, and in particular in its deepest underground chamber, the Forbidden Archives.
A barrier forbidding outsiders' entry was maintained there at all tis. Therefore, to gain entry one had to be an Imperial Royal oneself, or at the very least possess authority on par with the Emperor's closest confidants.
Creeeak─
And yet "soone" threw open the door of that Forbidden Archives with perfect composure. Because that "soone" possessed that level of authority.
Thus, "soone
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