Karma

"I'll try asking around from a different angle."

The noble society was far more distant from the common folk than one might think, and unless we were professional information brokers, amateurs like us had zero chance of digging up anything useful in a single day just by poking around the streets—so there really wasn't any other option worth mentioning.

So when Sheryl said she'd try a different angle, what she really meant was using connections among the same nobles she knew... but given that Lord Ekaf was already busily moving on that front, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind about whether her efforts would actually mean anything.

But after looking into Sheryl's eyes, I understood that questioning whether it held meaning was itself a meaningless act.

"Alright. I'll head back to the manor first, change back into Ragnis's clothes, and go check out the detention site Sir Renisa told me about. Showing up like this, I doubt I'd get a warm reception."

"Then I'll poke around a bit too. It's been a while since I was last in the capital, but I might still have some old acquaintances around."

Just like with Gin the other time, it seemed Asilie also had some contacts living somewhere in the capital. After briefly watching them each head off on their own way, I let out a sigh and made for the manor.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt it anew—the path to upholding one's convictions was long and brutal. There was still so much to learn and what felt like even more mountains to climb, and on top of the physical barriers, getting tripped up by political crap like this was suffocating beyond words.

If I at least had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solid justification, I could bite back—fuck. Going forward, it seemed like a good idea to start devising ways to counter the bastards who tried to nibble away at me from the outside, bit by bit.

After reaching that realization, I changed clothes at the manor, bolted back out, and headed toward a reasonably tidy building on the outskirts.

"Bleak."

But the two-story building was merely tidy, nothing more. Calling it a rectangular brick box wouldn't have been an exaggeration. Even the reason it was two stories seemed purely to separate the guards watching the building from the prisoners. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Worse, the area was a street where ordinary citizens came and went without a second thought, so having one's face exposed would happen in an instant.

Still, for a commoner, being held somewhere other than an underground dungeon would've been considered quite decent treatment... but since the person inside was a noble, it was absurdly shabby.

I pressed down the discomfort that had naturally welled up and approached the guards standing watch at the sole entrance. With crisp precision, they crossed their spears to block the door and threw a question at me.

"This is a place where a criminal is confined. What business do you have here?"

And that very first question was enough to make Bad Eldmia and Worse Eldmia flare their eyes for the first time in a while.

What? Criminal?

"Criminal? Did you just refer to a noble who voluntarily entered temporary detention to prove her innocence as a criminal?"

I forcibly held back the curses that wanted to burst out and replied with the best attitude befitting a household attendant. I'd been practically itching for them to hand me just one excuse, and now this clueless bastard had gone and poked a nerve.

The guard, facing someone a good 20 centimeters taller than him, dressed in what anyone could see was uniform-like attire with a half-cape, and glaring with naked fury, seemed to lose some of the brazen confidence he'd initially displayed.

"St-state your identity. Otherwise, I will consider this a threat and detain you."

"Eldmia Ega, temporary attendant to Margrave Ragnis Lien da Levien. Now, will you answer my question? Did you just, with your own mouth, treat the Margrave—who voluntarily presented herself for temporary detention—as a criminal?"

I placed my hand on the pommel of the sword at my waist and asked with deliberate clarity.

I didn't know how this fellow would interpret my action, but this wasn't a threat—it was combat preparation. Noble society had a truly fascinating quirk: a single wrong word could stain one's honor, and a single right one could gild it.

The problem was that, true to noble fashion, the consequences of staining or gilding were extremely extreme. And when a commoner stained a noble's honor, they could act as if laws and everything else didn't exist—and it would actually be perfectly legal.

Treat a noble carelessly as a criminal, and it was a world where you could be cut down in a duel and have no grounds to complain.

That was precisely why, for commoners, it was better for their health not to even mix words with nobles in the first place. Staying quiet wasn't just cutting the risk in half—it was keeping yourself alive.

"That is correct. Under the Noble Council's directive, the criminal..."

"Just once. I'll give you one chance."

"Wh-what?"

No matter how fucked up the Noble Council was, this guy was still someone's son and someone's family. The truth was, if he simply didn't know the law, it was a mistake anyone could make—so I resolved to explain with a generous heart.

"Let me say this again. Margrave of Levien is currently here voluntarily to prove her innocence, despite the Noble Council unilaterally notifying her and forcibly attempting temporary detention. That is why it remains temporary detention, and that is why the Margrave is not yet a criminal. I will consider this a mistake made out of ignorance—that a commoner who carelessly treats a noble who is not a criminal as one cannot escape death. Correct yourself."

I trusted that even they wouldn't have recruited someone with the intellectual capacity to not understand after being told this much. But, astonishingly, reality always surpassed imagination.

The bastard who'd been faltering just moments ago suddenly puffed up with some inexplicable confidence, let out a scoff, and shook his head.

"Hah... I tried to be as courteous as I could, but this is just flabbergasting. We are the Noble Council's private soldiers, this is the location where the criminal Ragnis is confined, and that is the Noble Council's directive. Don't spout nonsense."

The reason I listened to every last bit of that horseshit was simple.

"Your last words are a bit long, but I'll deliver them well to the Noble Council."

-Shk!

Cutting off someone's last words was bad manners. Before the bastard could swing the spear blocking the door toward me, I drew my sword and sliced clean through his throat.

I'd already received every treatment the Empire could offer, so my body was in peak condition. On top of that, I used Magic Power—there was no way a mere foot soldier could react. The severed head flew through the air, smacked against the building wall behind, and dropped to the ground. The other guard, who'd been watching blankly from beside him, recoiled in horror and scrambled backward.

"A-aagh! Emergency! Emergency!"

The bastard didn't even think of swinging his spear—he just screamed and tried to open the door. I helped him out by kicking it with all my strength.

-CRASH!

Since it was made of simple wooden planks and not solid timber, the door exploded outward in all directions, scattering debris everywhere.

Hm. That felt more cathartic than I'd expected.

The bastard whose outstretched fingertips had just grazed the door handle before my kick obliterated it went pale and collapsed on the spot. Inside, four guards who'd been roused by his scream hadn't even managed to grasp the situation—they just stared at me with wide, startled eyes.

"Who's in charge? Get out here."

"Wh-what in the world is the meaning of this! This place is..."

"Are you the one in charge?"

The bastard who'd been lounging comfortably in a rocking chair by the fireplace at the very back scrambled to his feet and started to speak, so I leveled my sword at him and asked. No one objected. Yeah, it was pretty obviously the commander's personal seat.

But just because they fell silent didn't mean I had no reason to speak. I kindly explained the situation.

"I came here for the purpose of visiting the temporarily detained Margrave of Levien. Your subordinate, however, referred to Margrave of Levien—who is merely in temporary detention prior to trial—as a criminal. I gave him a chance to retract his statement, he refused, so I killed him in accordance with noble law. Any objections?"

"What an utterly outrageous claim! We are..."

"I know you're the Noble Council's private soldiers and this is the temporary detention facility designated by the Noble Council's directive. Answer the question. Or do you not know the law either?"

Back when I was in the military, the only thing I'd memorized was the service regulation. It was the same in modern society—so how much law could these bastards possibly know?

"You know what you're saying? Are you declaring you'll make an enemy of the Noble Council?"

Why was it that, since ancient times, whenever I asked something, the bastards who answered with unrelated bullshit always outnumbered the ones who actually held a proper conversation?

But with four of them present, I still had three reserves of patience left. So I explained as calmly as I could manage.

"I am a law-abiding subject of this kingdom. Those among you who insist on calling Margrave of Levien a criminal—pick up your weapons and die. Those who don't, contact the Noble Council immediately and have them dispatch someone who actually knows the law and can hold a conversation. Your commander is an ignorant fool who can't communicate."

Truth be told, the one who hadn't made it inside the building had already bolted, so it probably didn't matter either way. But since there was no chance that bastard would give a proper explanation wherever he fled—barracks or otherwise—it was only right to at least explain things to these ones. At least, judging by the hesitant atmosphere, maybe one of them might actually listen.

But the commander's face contorted at my words, and he shouted—instantly shifting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mood.

"Treason! This is treason—an attempt to free the criminal Ragnis! Attack!"

Even a noble had to stake everything on an all-or-nothing challenge before crying treason. A mere guard had some serious nerve.

Contrary to my hopes, at his shout the remaining guards—including the commander—drew their swords and began cautiously keeping me in check.

It was genuinely pathetic. But just in case one of them gave up the fight and survived, only to spout some nonsense about me cowardly ambushing them, I decided—with heartfelt gratitude—to let them have the first strike.

Thank you for giving me a legal opportunity to rampage, you ignorant bastards.