Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Suppression of the Uprising (6)
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There's a saying called Columbus's egg.
Standing a raw egg upright on a table looks impossible at first glance...
But crush the bottom, and it stands straight up.
Anyone who knows the trick can do it easily, while those who don't are convinced it's impossible...
The point is that even seemingly impossible feats become easy once someone pulls it off first.
If Zwei succeeds in climbing the ranks during this uprising suppression...
'Similar copycats will keep popping up.'
Plenty of people crave promotion but lack the path or talent, so they'll resort to slick talk instead.
"Major Schumacher, our Ravoniasi protesters will disband completely today, in accordance with the imperial decree."
"You've had a rough go of it."
"For His Majesty the Emperor to lend an ear to the voices of lowly folk like us... His boundless benevolence overwhelms us."
The others might buy it, but not his real motives. I see right through him.
That look screams it.
His own shot at glory has opened up, so his gratitude to His Majesty must be sky-high.
"Thanks for opening the gates and coming out. You spared me from anything dishonorable."
The Imperial Army must stand for justice.
That's the only way to fully win back the people's hearts.
Until the hidden truth I've secretly prepared comes to light, I have to treat Zwei like the protest leader he claims to be.
Shower him with respect, then expose him with 'Wait, this guy's a spy?' right in front of everyone for maximum impact.
And it's way more entertaining that way.
Let them revel in it, then drop the bomb that it was all bullshit.
"As promised, the citizens inside won't face any accountability, and we'll distribute food supplies shortly."
The citizens lit up at my words.
"Is that really true?"
"His Majesty the Emperor doesn't double-talk like that tormenting mayor did. Food rations are coming, and taxes are waived this year for the poor."
"Tax exemption."
Even a partial year-end tax refund puts everyone in a great mood.
That's why the thirteenth paycheck gets such cheers.
But in a world this pinched, with sky-high tax rates, a full year's exemption?
I'd be shouting long live His Majesty too.
Three times a day for a month.
"Anything else you want?"
"That last mayor rammed through all sorts of cruel laws. We've suffered terribly."
The guy's eyes—pure 'innocent farmer' vibes—welled up with tears.
Faces flushed red, the air thick with sobs about to erupt.
How badly did that former mayor bleed them dry?
A local bureaucrat in a sprawling land of moral voids embezzled four trillion...
Strip the mayor's mansion and hidden stashes, and we're talking tens of billions of marks, easy.
"Please arrange for our leader to speak on behalf of us simple folk."
If some thick-headed fool were handling this suppression...
A plea like that from citizens, and they'd slap a fancy hat on the protest leader.
All to soothe the masses, they'd say.
But I have zero plans to boost that bastard.
I'll say it once more—no, a million times.
Everything's toughest at the start; following suit is a breeze.
We can't set the precedent that hijacking an uprising guarantees a promotion.
“Consider it done. We’ll specially appoint your leader as a people’s livelihood advisor to assist the new mayor for now. Does that work?”
"Really? Our leader gets to stand by the new mayor and speak for us?"
"Naturally."
Just as everything seemed neatly wrapped up...
Lieutenant Lina, who'd gone into the city first, rushed toward me.
"Battalion Commander, big trouble! This wasn't a simple uprising!"
"Not simple? What do you mean, Lieutenant Lina?"
Zwei's face drained of color at her words.
He stared at me like he might piss himself any second.
Pure innocence, no guilt—that's the mask he wore...
You don't qualify for innocence.
Using a people's revolt for your career? Bad move.
I stared at her, playing dumb.
"A secret letter found under the mayor's office bookshelf. It says the Dolce Republic paid Zwei, the protest leader, to incite the uprising."
"...Paid to incite...?"
The Empire views even spontaneous survival uprisings as borderline rebellion.
Worst case, brutal punishment for every participant.
Theory goes: ringleaders and families fully executed; adult male participants executed, rest enslaved.
Mercy here because my probe showed the mayor crossed every line—legitimacy granted.
No legitimacy? Chief Judge Ainz would've buried them in death sentences by now.
These everyday citizens and farmers grasped the stakes...
A few pissed themselves.
"So what we did was full-on rebellion?"
"You fucking Zwei!! Your fault we're all fucked!"
"Mayor bastard, Zwei bastard..."
Well, my handiwork, of course.
Chief Judge Ainz greenlit it to deter uprising careerists.
Protests fix unfair crap, period—not a ladder for leaders to feast.
"Silence."
Chaos peaked; all begging for mercy, no quieting down.
I finally drew my sword from its sheath.
No real intent to kill...
But the message? Crystal: stay loud, stay silent forever.
"Anyone here know Zwei was a Dolce Republic spy?"
"If we did, that bastard's head would've rolled first!"
This was a revolt to save their own skins and families.
Legit protest for survival—not some promotion grab.
"His Majesty wants this handled with maximum leniency. You protested a corrupt mayor; blind executions? I'd lose my head to His Majesty for that."
True story.
Smashing real traitors (careerists count as rebels) with light fabrications to prevent repeats? General Staff and Emperor would approve.
Hell, reward me.
Full suppression authority, stamped by my nominal boss the Chief Judge. Why punish?
But one step over? Overreach—my head rolls for real.
"Leniency promised for all except the protest leader and his cadres. Can't send you home yet, but you'll go free soon."
"Really?"
"His Majesty knows your grievances, your rage."
"Thank you—truly."
The Empire teeters on the brink.
Neighboring states openly salivating to devour us.
To survive, we unite around one core.
The Emperor, naturally, at the center.
So I hype him up, unprompted.
"Zwei, right?"
Zwei met my eyes and soaked his pants.
He'd figured his death sentence.
Why exploit the people for a leg up, you rotten fuck?
Know your place and stretch your legs accordingly.
Behaved? You'd live; no sword-swinging for me. Win-win.
"Y-yes, sir."
"This traitor's not chat-ready. Whip him fifty light lashes first."
One lash bruises deep, rips flesh.
Fifty? Blackout guaranteed.
"...Mercy... I just..."
"You're a traitor."
Incited the masses, botched suppression, chased promotion.
Not treason? What is?
A week later, Zwei endured torture till his body was pulp, then got torn limb from limb.
His name rang across the Empire.
As its worst traitor.
The news reached His Majesty too.
"Major Schumacher, was it? Politically sharp one. Right, Grand Chamberlain?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
Grand Chamberlain—like a chief of staff, simply put.
True to his role as imperial confidant, he fed the desired line.
"Abilities proven, political instincts too. Why not summon him?"
"And do what?"
"...Test him. That one's vessel won't settle for mediocrity."
A smile crept across the Emperor's face.
One far from saintly, for certain.