Black (2)
The Great Emperor who laid the foundations of the Empire was an outstanding conqueror and a god of war, and the meritorious retainers who stood beside him in his path of conquest were likewise heavily skewed toward martial talent. Ludwig himself understood the importance of civil officials and granted them treatment no less than that given to battlefield generals, yet in an era when swords and shields mattered more than quills and ink, he could not easily change the people's perception. Young men preferred earning glorious achievements on the battlefield over burying themselves in moldy mountains of documents and quietly handling administrative work. Forcibly assigning those who wished to become military officers into civil posts and working them to the bone was tolerable once in a while, but hardly a method one could use often. When someone is forcibly assigned to a department they never wanted, how often will both their motivation and ability be satisfied?
After the long years of war, the military had grown excessively bloated and was eating away at the national treasury. Even at the cost of side effects, it had to be reduced. At the same time, someone who could handle affairs with impartiality and integrity—despite being the head of the military—had to be placed at the very top of the civil bureaucracy. Through various other measures, the imbalance between military and civil officials was somehow resolved, but it was merely returning a tilted scale to center. There had not been enough time for the prevailing martial spirit and perception to reverse. Thus the Empire remained the strongest nation while also being immature in matters of governance. It possessed vast resources and population, yet was clumsy at using them efficiently. Its institutions were rough and incomplete, and the circulation and distribution of wealth did not flow smoothly.
Of course, most people living in the Empire did not even recognize this as a problem. The Empire was far from anything one could call perfect or a golden age even in empty flattery, but the common people's lives had not been driven to the extreme where they would die if they did not struggle. For many, that was enough. Elders who remembered the corrupt royal era or the time of endless war when human lives were worth less than flies sang of how abundant the present age was. Those who grew up hearing such stories vaguely accepted that this was a good world. Not everyone was satisfied with their current lives, but those who were not could not carelessly speak out or take action. Complaints about life, laments about the world, criticism of the class system—any of these could be interpreted as criticism of the rulers, that is, the imperial family, and such acts were extremely dangerous in the Empire. When the majority of the people gave the imperial family fervent support, anyone who earned the label of anti-imperialist would face nothing but cold stares or outright violence; there was no good outcome to be had.
Yet the resentment remained. Because it could not be expressed outwardly, it festered and rotted even deeper inside, like pus that could not be drained. For Alcor, who was thoroughly skilled at manipulating human psychology at will, recruiting such people was hardly difficult.
In a certain city of the Empire, in a shabby house roughly ten minutes' walk from where Chrome and Joy were staying, Alcor opened his eyes. Wearing loose robes that hid his figure and a grotesquely twisted mask, he rose from the chair he had been sitting on and offered words of gratitude to the homeowner.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, I was able to safely achieve what I wanted."
At Alcor's thanks, the middle-aged woman with a haggard and sharp impression bowed her head in a fluster.
"I-I'm honored! How could I possibly deserve such excessive praise…!"
She seemed genuinely at a loss for what to do, but Alcor approached as if to reassure her and gently stroked her hair. At first she trembled, but soon, as if overcome with emotion, she grasped Alcor's hand and shed tears. Alcor waited patiently until she calmed down before rising to his feet.
"Please wait a moment. I'll go check outside."
The middle-aged woman, whose eyes held a strange madness and sense of mission despite her ordinary appearance, stepped out of the house and returned shortly after.
"I don't see any soldiers on patrol nearby. Still, just in case, please be careful."
"Understood. I hope you stay healthy until we meet again."
"Thank you, thank you……!"
The woman, who had lost her husband twice, been treated as a villain, and lived each day in hardship, felt not the slightest fear or guilt about sheltering a dangerous criminal. Alcor was not helped by her alone. There was the former soldier who had lost an arm during a monster subjugation mission. The old servant who had lost the family he had served his entire life under the grand cause of purging corrupt officials. The orphan who had never received parental love and survived through theft and robbery. They were not a single, organized group, and many of them did not even know Alcor's true identity. Yet they willingly risked danger for Alcor's sake. Even if each individual's abilities were insignificant, their devoted assistance and the power of the mask that distorted people's perceptions were more than enough to let Alcor slip through the Empire's pursuit net.
After passing through alleyways, crossing the city walls, fording a river, and brushing past a forest, Alcor suddenly stopped. On the lonely path cutting through the woods stood a woman blocking the way with an imposing stance. A hairpin reminiscent of a flower, short hair the color of water. Eyes like blue crystals. The gloves embroidered with splendid lace and the violet dress looked somewhat out of place in the sparsely populated forest, yet precisely because of that, they exuded an even more unreal beauty. Upon discovering the beautiful woman who possessed the charisma of a great actress on stage, Alcor greeted her in a bright voice.
"Oh, Lady Mizar. What a delightful coincidence to meet you in a place like this."
Looking at him with disgust as he bowed politely while expressing joy with his entire body, the woman called Mizar answered in an icy voice.
"How could it possibly be a coincidence that you and I crossed paths in such a shabby place?"
"Are you saying it is fate? I am deeply moved to hear such words from a great predecessor."
"It seems you want your head to fly off."
"Hmm, that would be rather troublesome—"
Before Alcor could finish speaking, a flash of light shot from Mizar's hand and grazed past his face. Three strands of pure, dense mana without any added attributes pierced through dozens of trees without resistance, proving their power, and a moment later triggered a massive explosion that erased part of the forest.
"—indeed. I still have many things left to do. I don't know why you're in a bad mood, but would you please forgive me?"
Each individual strike carried power that was difficult to reach even with ordinary high-tier spells, let alone mid-tier ones—far beyond a simple threat. Yet even though such an attack had grazed right by his head, Alcor finished his sentence without the slightest sign of flinching. Clicking her tongue at him, Mizar waved her hand. At the same time, a gust of wind lifted something that had fallen to the ground after being grazed by her previous attack and floated it in the air between Alcor and Mizar. A butterfly with no luster, as if drawn as a shadow in the void, was still faintly convulsing despite having lost one wing and half its body.
"You asked why I'm in a bad mood. Since you asked, I'll answer. First, because of your foolishness in stirring up the Empire to save a fool who couldn't even complete a single assigned mission and got captured. Second, because of your arrogance in arbitrarily deploying one of the limited 'Towers' that are difficult to create anew. And last, because of your dullness in trying to return so casually with something like this attached to your back. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Staring at Alcor with her piercingly blue and clear eyes—eyes that held special meaning in certain countries—Mizar continued. Even in the face of her chilling presence that seemed to freeze the surrounding air, Alcor boldly puffed out his chest.
"If saving a comrade is called foolishness, then I will gladly become a fool. If opening new possibilities for my comrades is called arrogance, then I will accept it with joy. Also, I am originally a lacking and dull person, but since someone like Lady Mizar is extending a helping hand, I can only be grateful."
At his shameless attitude, Mizar clicked her tongue as if to vent her anger and crushed the black butterfly floating in the air into powder.
"How detestable, how utterly detestable. I truly cannot understand why Passion chose someone like you. Still, even for you, this time you've gone too far. For a while, you'll have to stay quietly at home. This is something Benetnasch has also agreed to."
"…Hmm, if the two of you have come to an agreement, then I suppose I must accept it. Will you be taking over the plan that was in progress, Lady Mizar?"
"No need. I'm sick of your petty schemes. If the Empire is an obstacle to achieving our great cause, then we simply need to make it stop being an obstacle. The Empire will have to choose. Whether to continue blocking our path, or—"
Cutting off Alcor's words without hesitation, she spoke calmly.
"—or whether to save their own hero."