Chapter 43
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 43
"Instructor Kinuan is provoking us."
I deliberately used the word "us" when addressing the Imperial Guard Captain. I relayed the seditious words that had come out of Kinuan's mouth to him, exactly as they'd been spoken.
"...Luka, do you remember when I told you before that Kinuan was assigned to unofficial missions?"
I nodded. Unofficial missions left no records. That was why even the Imperial Guard Captain didn't have a clear grasp of Kinuan's true nature.
It meant that even the Captain didn't have access to all the information. He, too, was merely someone who took orders from above—just like me.
"The same goes for the terrorist Rick Silva Nunez. It seems Rick and Kinuan mostly carried out unofficial missions during the same era. There must be some kind of connection between the two."
"One is an instructor, and the other is a wanted fugitive."
"By now, you must be wondering. If Kinuan is so suspicious, why have we left him alone all this time?"
It was true. I was incredibly curious. But survival came first.
"If there's a reason I shouldn't know, I'll keep my ears closed."
The Captain crossed his arms and shut his eyes. He leaned back loosely in his chair before opening them again.
"I've decided to trust you, Luka. Investigating Kinuan is an order that came from higher up than the Imperial Guard. The higher-ups seem to think they can reach the core of the terrorist group Nemesis through him. We could kill him this very instant, but... we're letting him be. Kinuan knows that full well, too."
It couldn't be helped. No amount of torture would ever make Kinuan open his mouth.
"And you gave such a seditious man the important position of instructor?" I said, my voice thick with displeasure.
"He said he'd leave if we didn't give him the position. Well—not that Kinuan would ever leave the Imperial Guard alive, of course. Besides, he's highly competent as an instructor. Has your curiosity been satisfied now?"
"I've been by Kinuan's side for quite a while, but to be honest, I don't see any openings. He's a man of thorough self-discipline. He never shows his hand."
Kinuan was far more calculating than me. A difficult man.
"Stop whining and do your best. You're the only one suited for the job. Over the past dozen years or so, we've assigned several cadets to Kinuan, but none of them managed to get as close to him as you have. Kinuan likes you."
I turned the Captain's words over in my mind. There was no way for me to back out of this.
"...In that case, I'll need authority beyond that of a cadet."
I listed the privileges I required: a pass to freely travel between the Lower and Upper Districts, a permit for custom armaments, access to a higher-grade database, and a reasonable allotment of investigation funds.
"This much isn't difficult. And?" The Imperial Guard Captain granted permission readily, without a moment's hesitation.
"I know this doesn't sound very soldierly. But I don't want to die over some murky business like this. Especially not for the simple reason of 'knowing too much.'"
"I won't lie to you. Let's be frank. If orders come down from above, I, too, will have to make this entire affair disappear. That would mean several people would have to be cleaned up—including you. But I'll do my best, at least within the scope of my authority. I promise you that. It's the reason I had you brought into the family in the first place. Your official identification will be issued within two or three days."
This was the best I could hope for. The Empire was cold and ruthless. I knew that all too well.
"Your word alone is enough for me."
It wasn't enough. But it wasn't as if I could demand anything more. My life rested entirely on the Captain's discretion.
* * *
Imperial Guard Cadets used standard-issue equipment of a fixed specification. A single close-quarters weapon—such as a monomolecular-coated blade—and a pistol were the universal armaments. Additional gear was issued as needed, depending on the mission.
...I had always been dissatisfied with monomolecular blades. The cutting power was excellent for the first few uses, but after that, the coating would gradually wear away. It was a chronic problem. Once the coating peeled off, the thing was nothing more than a sturdy sword.
Still, it was understandable. Monomolecular coating was itself the product of an advanced manufacturing process—a high-performance weapon rarely seen on the open market. Naturally, the unit cost was high, which made it impractical to supply cadets with anything better.
The standard-issue pistol, on the other hand, was as common as dirt. It possessed nearly every convenience and boasted excellent craftsmanship, sure—but its raw power was mediocre.
I visited the Imperial Workshop. The technician assigned to the Imperial Guard scanned me up and down.
"You received a permit for custom armaments? That's unusual for a cadet."
It must have been rare for a cadet to set foot in this place. At most, they'd only come to run errands.
Inside the Imperial Workshop, technicians and androids moved about busily. They were crafting equipment for high-ranking military officers who'd been granted custom armament permits. The metallic tang of iron and a pungent, smoky smell drifted through the air.
"That's just how things turned out."
The technician didn't ask further. A wise attitude.
"Do you need the catalog?"
The workshop technician had an extra auxiliary arm mounted at his back. He held out an electronic catalog with the arm attached at his shoulder blade.
I swiped my hand over the screen, flipping through quickly. I already had something in mind before coming here.
"I want a high-compression heavy weapon. In the form of a sword," I said, pointing to the list of heavy weapons.
"Hmm. You know that's a difficult weapon to handle, right? From a professional standpoint, I wouldn't recommend it. You've still got a lot of biological parts, too."
"I know."
Reading my expression, the technician shrugged.
"Well, my job's just to make it once the order comes in. You already know this, but your personal copay will be deducted from your salary in installments."
The Imperial Workshop's manufacturing costs were as high as its quality. Ordering a decent piece of equipment would cost a cadet two or three years' worth of salary. But because we received imperial backing, my copay was only ten percent. That much was manageable.
"Even with the compression, it'll come out a bit larger than the sword you've been using."
"I've factored that in."
"Ah—single-edged is fine, right? That makes the weight distribution cleaner, easier to work with. It's not like you plan to thrust with a heavy weapon anyway."
I nodded. He was a true master of the Imperial Workshop. With his wealth of experience, he'd read my intentions exactly.
A heavy weapon was, quite literally, a weapon made heavy to increase its power. High-compression was the process of compressing that heavy weapon to make it smaller—tailored to my physique and requirements.
A high-compression heavy weapon.
It might not sound like much, but outside the Imperial Workshop, no one would even dare attempt to manufacture one. To maintain the tensile strength of the compressed metal required reprocessing at the atomic bond level, blah blah blah... If I was curious, I could just read the explanation in the catalog.
So I ordered a high-compression heavy weapon shaped like a sword. To put my requirements simply: its outward appearance would be identical to the sword I'd been carrying, but it would be tremendously heavy.
Without a high-performance prosthetic body, a person wouldn't even be able to lift it. Difficult to handle. In return, it could maintain lethal power and cutting edge even without a monomolecular coating.
"I'd also like to place a separate order for a pistol. Something with high single-shot power. I don't need aiming assistance or cybernetic synchronization, so keep the electronic components to a minimum."
I waited for the technician's recommendation. I knew what I wanted for the sword, but the firearm was better left to the workshop master's judgment. He'd find something solid that fit my requirements.
After just a few exchanges, I already trusted the craftsman standing before me.
"Hold on. High single-shot power, but in the form of a pistol..."
The edges of the technician's pupils glowed as he searched.
"It's for close-quarters shooting, not long range. Low ammo capacity is fine," I added. Expecting long-range performance from a high-power pistol was greedy from the start. If I wanted that, I should be carrying a rifle.
"A shock pistol would suit you. Ever used one?"
"I know how to use it."
It required preheating before the first shot. But the power was devastating. It was another option I'd been keeping in mind.
"You'll have to run both an energy cartridge and live ammunition. I'll set the output to the highest tier permitted for a personal firearm. You'll need bullets with coolant casings—otherwise, firing even two rounds in a row will cause the gun to seize up from overheating."
The operating conditions were a hassle. But I had no complaints. My demands had been demanding, after all.
"When should I come to pick them up?"
"A week."
Fast, considering the difficulty of the order. I supposed this was why they called it the Imperial Workshop.
* * *
I had less than a year left of cadet life. After that, I'd become an official Imperial Guardsman. In the meantime, I was freed from trivial missions.
Ilay hasn't come back yet.
Ilay, who'd returned to his family home, still hadn't come back to the training center. I didn't bother reaching out first. I had no business with him, and I wasn't about to force cringeworthy small talk.
"Luka... Custoria? How the hell did you pull that off? I know the Captain favored you, but still—an adopted son of House Custoria?" said a classmate I ran into in the lounge. The rumors had spread far and wide.
Luka Custoria.
I'd been registered as the Imperial Guard Captain's adopted son. The official paperwork was already complete.
It wasn't just the other cadets. Even the instructors and the occasional Imperial Guardsman I passed went out of their way to strike up a conversation. Everyone was curious. They wanted to know how I'd climbed to this position.
I wasn't born noble. I came from a low-grade Double-Digit Orphanage. It was a miraculous rise in status.
Yet my mind was far from at ease. In exchange for being brought into the family, I'd have to carry out perilous missions.
I gave everyone the same plausible excuse: that it was thanks to saving Giselle Custoria at the Academy. Since I was already favored by the Captain, it wasn't entirely unbelievable.
But no one except the cadets bought it. The instructors and Guardsmen surely suspected there was a far bigger story behind it. And their suspicions were correct.
"We might be father and son on paper, but don't start calling me 'Father' just yet. It's embarrassing."
The Imperial Guard Captain stood at the airfield, waiting for me.
"You don't have to worry about that. I'm not exactly the sociable type either—'Father.'"
The Captain let out a dry chuckle. As we approached the aerial vehicle he'd prepared, the door slid open.
Step, step.
I boarded the Custoria family's aerial vehicle. The Captain sat across from me.
"Nervous?"
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. A bit tense."
Right now, I was on my way to the Custoria family mansion. In a sense, it was a formal introduction. Apart from Giselle and the Captain, I'd never met a single member of House Custoria.
"I don't care for these empty formalities and procedures either. But since we've technically become family, you should at least pay your respects."
"If you give me a guideline on how to behave in front of the other family members, I'll follow it."
At that, the Captain smiled, amused. He stroked his chin, pausing a moment before he spoke.
"Just act like your usual self. It'll be a fresh, stimulating change—in many ways. For my children, too."
The Captain grinned like a mischievous boy.