The Fractured Plan (1)
The Barhart Empire was in an uproar, which was only natural. Though the Mars family had little connection to central power due to its nature, it was still one of the only two ducal houses in the entire empire. Its territory had been struck by terrorism in broad daylight, resulting in thousands confirmed dead and tens of thousands more actual victims. Because the incident occurred amid a large-scale event, many of the victims were nobles, wealthy merchants, and local magnates from various countries—in other words, "important people"—which only amplified the gravity of the situation.
What people wanted to know first was, of course, the identity of the perpetrators. Who had committed such an act? What was their purpose? Was it the work of demons? Or anti-imperialists? What was the identity of the tower? What was the blood-red rain that had fallen so widely? And what was that giant that appeared at the end?
The imperial family's answer to all of this was one and the same.
"The investigation is ongoing. Refrain from unnecessary disturbances that may hinder the investigation. Severe punishment will be meted out not only to the culprits but also to those who obstruct their capture."
It was a very ordinary response, yet one that left those who had been listening with bated breath deeply disappointed. With such an announcement, it was only natural for all sorts of speculation and rumors about the culprits to spread, but even that did not come easily this time.
After all, the statement had explicitly warned that "those who obstruct the capture of the culprits will be severely punished," and it had come directly under the imperial name. No one wanted to be arrested for spreading false rumors just because they had speculated about who the culprit might be. In the end, people reached the conclusion that they should "wait until the investigation is over" regarding the culprits' identities, and their next point of interest became the question of who was responsible for the incident.
The first person mentioned as responsible was naturally Duke Mars. The incident had taken place in his territory, the damage had been magnified because so many people had gathered for the martial tournament, and regardless of the process, the ducal soldiers had failed to protect the victims. There was more than enough grounds to hold him accountable.
However, such opinions were quickly quelled for several reasons. The Mars family had long worked to revitalize cultural life within the empire, earning them great popularity among the common people. They favored martial artists and provided them opportunities to shine through various tournaments, earning high regard from the knightly and military circles that valued martial prowess. The family also sponsored artisans from various fields without binding them through contracts, making them a valuable source of talent for many noble houses and benefiting numerous people in the process.
Of course, there were those who dismissed all of this as a mere show to avoid displeasing the imperial family, others who scorned the duke for enjoying clownish antics despite his status, and still others who mocked him as nothing more than a useful fool. Yet even they had to choose their words carefully when there were many eyes watching. Otherwise, they would draw glares from those asking, "If you're going to badmouth him like that, how much better are you?"
In short, Duke Mars enjoyed considerable popularity, and regarding this incident, the prevailing opinion was not that "the damage was greater because Duke Mars made a mistake," but rather that "it was unfortunate that he suffered such an accident during what should have been a joyous occasion." Many had witnessed the exploits of Daniel Richter, the representative knight of Mars, and the ducal soldiers under his command during the incident. After the event, when it became known that Duke Mars had used his personal wealth to aid the victims, this sentiment grew even stronger.
The problem was that this situation was quite troublesome for the civil officials who managed the administration of the Barhart Empire. An incident had occurred, and with victims numbering in the thousands or tens of thousands, someone had to take responsibility. However, there was strong public support for Duke Mars, the most obvious candidate for blame, and ignoring that sentiment to pursue him would be burdensome even for them. Moreover, they could not even reach internal consensus.
The next candidates for responsibility were the military, which had failed to maintain public order—specifically the central army, given the jurisdiction. This was equally difficult to touch. Setting aside the fact that it would be like marring the empire's own renowned sword, if they stirred up the central army, would those already arrogant individuals simply stay quiet? It would be fortunate if they merely protested, "Why are you blaming us for this?" If they responded by saying they would accept responsibility and that the standing army needed to be expanded to prevent such incidents in the future, things could truly descend into chaos.
If the culprits' whereabouts had been clear, they might have been able to shift the blame by saying it was all those bastards' fault. But the culprits' identities remained shrouded in mystery, as if they had sprung from the ground without any context, and given the scale of the incident, fabricating a suitable culprit to pin it on was also difficult.
"Couldn't we just blame the demons? There wouldn't be anyone to prove otherwise."
"Demons broke through the eastern defensive line and caused thousands of casualties in the heart of the empire? Do you really think people would stay quiet? We'd end up at war with the Ivestan Empire right away."
"The Academy has only been established for a year. We still need time to prepare."
"What about holding the anti-imperialists responsible? We could use this as an excuse to strengthen inspections, and the vassal states probably wouldn't have much to say."
"And what if those madmen hiding in the mountains start imitating us, thinking they can do the same? Are you confident you can handle that?"
"Please, let's not give the military any more reasons to raise their voices."
As they were struggling with one option after another being impossible, a junior civil official offered a suggestion.
"What if we divert attention elsewhere and cover it up?"
"How so?"
"Since the Academy students apparently contributed greatly to resolving the incident, wouldn't using that create a favorable narrative?"
At the junior official's suggestion, they thought:
'Not bad.'
'We could praise His Majesty the Emperor's foresight while also promoting the excellence of the Academy that produced such capable individuals in just one year.'
'The head of the Bain family from the Nahat Grand Duchy has been making noise here and there. Praising their third son would shut him up.'
Even just being able to steer the conversation toward praising a project initiated by the imperial family was a significant advantage. Creating favorable public opinion toward the Academy was something they had already been doing, so it would be easy to proceed, and the topic had plenty of appeal.
However, there were also those who opposed.
"Isn't this conclusion too hasty? I believe a more cautious approach is necessary."
"Attributing credit to the Academy could potentially provoke the military."
"Even if young students played a role, how much could they have actually done? In reality, it was the ducal soldiers who did everything. Wouldn't it seem like we're just trying to claim credit for ourselves?"
The fact that the empire's own princess was included in the list of "Academy students who contributed to resolving the incident" carried the potential to raise various political concerns. To put it more simply, from the perspective of civil officials from other imperial factions, giving credit to Laila was not desirable.
"Then what do you suggest we do? Do you have an alternative?"
The opposition fell silent. Not all the civil officials were solely focused on factional struggles, and it was true that there was no suitable alternative. Moreover, they were not foolish enough to openly say, "If Princess Laila gains credit, it would inconvenience the person I serve."
'This much should be fine.'
'After all, the core point is the Academy's achievements. One princess being included won't hurt.'
'Tsk, I just hope that person doesn't say anything.'
Meanwhile, at the ducal residence.
"Thank you, Your Highness Princess Laila! How can I ever repay this kindness...!"
"Please raise your head, Duke Mars. What I did is nothing compared to what you and your soldiers accomplished."
"How can you be so humble...!"
Watching Princess Laila smile somewhat awkwardly and Duke Mars looking deeply moved before her, Chrome whispered to Akasha.
"If we're talking about contributions, shouldn't our side be bigger? Why does it feel like the princess did everything by herself?"
"Add 'nim' to it. Call her 'nim' or 'Your Highness.' This isn't the Academy. If you slip up outside, you'll be arrested for disrespect."
"If I'm getting arrested for disrespect, shouldn't Chrome already be on the guillotine?"
"The tongue is the problem, but you can't hang a tongue, can you?"
"Aha."
Chrome was dumbfounded that she actually accepted that logic. Regardless of whether Chrome found it absurd or not, the murmuring did not stop.
Two days after the incident, they were finally meeting the duke face to face. It might seem late, but everyone had been overwhelmed with cleanup efforts, and the duke himself had collapsed from overwork and remained unconscious for half a day. Chrome's group also needed rest due to serious injuries and fatigue, and they had business with Duke Mars anyway.
After repeatedly expressing his gratitude to the princess, Duke Mars finally approached them. Then, without warning, he bowed his head.
"I am truly grateful. I owe you all a great debt."