Chapter 289
Chapter 289
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 289
Chapter Title: Let's Root Out and Burn the Would-Be Assassins to the Ground (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
One saying I'd heard before went something like this.
"If you ever find yourself in a situation where you have to persuade someone, it's easier to sway a group than a single individual."
You might wonder what that means, but the idea behind it is roughly as follows.
No matter how hard I try to change someone's personal beliefs with good arguments or tempting offers, if they flat-out refuse, there's nothing I can do about it.
But if the target is a group, even if they all start out rejecting the idea outright, one or two will gradually start to waver.
Eventually, more people shift to your side than stay opposed. That's the gist of it.
However, getting a specific group to betray their own is different from changing beliefs. Persuade just one, and the rest will scramble to save their own skins.
Following that logic, my first task right now is to make one of them turn traitor.
"You're all here, so either way, you're looking at torture until your limbs are ripped apart in agony or a brutal public execution in the Reich Empire's central square. Why would I lie to you lot? I could just use harsher methods to make you spit out the truth. That way, I wouldn't even have to bother talking to you. Unlucky for you, convenient for me."
Truth be told, I have zero interest in actual torture.
Torturers have it easier than the victims, and I'd be even more comfortable just watching than doing the work myself.
Still, the screams hurt my ears, and watching blood and flesh splatter isn't exactly a pretty sight—even on the battlefield.
Sure, there are psychos who get off on it like it's a show of naked beauties, but that's not my thing, so I don't want any part of it.
I have no sympathy for these bastards—not a speck of dust worth.
"And to prove I can actually get you out and have the authority to grant you immunity, take a look at this. You'll believe me then."
With that, I pulled His Majesty's edict from my bosom and showed it to the assassins.
"Even blind rats like you must know that documents announcing major imperial matters always bear His Majesty's seal right here. This is a genuine edict with His Majesty's command, delegating full authority over this investigation to me, Division Commander Peter Jaeger."
I paused deliberately, and the assassins started murmuring among themselves.
"That looks like the real deal... Shit, that seal matches the one on the announcement about the Emperor's son being born years ago."
"Doesn't seem like a lie..."
"Get a grip, you idiots! You gonna buy that crap? Say it's true and we bust out—what then? Think the guild master will let us or our families live? No way. We die here, end of story."
Sure enough, sowing betrayal among a group beats convincing them one by one. Just moments ago, these guys were cheering to screw over the Empire, and now they're already shaking.
Hell, even the four-star gangsters back in 21st-century Korea who yapped about loyalty all day would sell out brothers without blinking if it meant saving their own asses.
I knew trash even dirtier than mobsters would crack if I offered a way out.
"Believe it or not, your call. Do what you want. But provide solid intel, and I'll get you out of here. I'll even protect your family."
Protect them? Under imperial law for treason attempts—which is as bad as rebellion—families get enslaved. I'd just smuggle them to decent postings.
Still, for commoners guilty of this, men rot in mines and women in brothels until death. That's mercy enough.
Though it does strike me as absurd how this era's laws punish the same high treason differently based on status.
As that thought crossed my mind, the guy who'd just questioned me earlier spoke up cautiously.
"We're rank-1 assassins from Black Night. Our orders were to eliminate Division Commander Peter Jaeger and wipe out as many witnesses around him as possible."
Shouts erupted like "Hey, you fucker! Why'd you spill that?!" But I signaled the torturers to gag the rest.
All they could manage now were muffled "mmphs"—fitting for their sorry state.
Black Night: a thieves' guild that ranks in the Empire's top ten, if not top five.
To commission them for a job that'd get everyone executed for treason...
Definitely a group with massive power and wealth behind it.
In other words, a full-blown noble conspiracy.
"On success, we were promised 140 gold for prime spots."
"140 gold—not chump change. Probably hush money to vanish to the countryside after."
The guy nodded quietly in agreement.
"Honesty suits you. Now, who hired you?"
He met my eyes, pleading silently.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. No reason for you to trust me, cornered or not.
Spill freely, and I'll ease your mind—for a bit.
"On my honor, I swear: you'll walk out alive, and your family gets my protection. If the info checks out."
"As a rank-1, I was beside the guild master when they took the contract. I saw who they were: Count Manstein and Baron Pietro. They said, 'Kill the treacherous upstart Peter Jaeger, Marquis, before the black eagle spreads its wings.' They put down 50,000 gold upfront—generous. Said it was pooled from nobles sharing their cause."
50,000 gold: enough for a year's minimum living for 50,000 serf households. All for my head.
Back when I first possessed this body, my head wasn't worth a single gold. Life's unpredictable.
The absurdity of them banding together over me drew a sigh.
I got similar answers from the others, and the Inspectorate Chief eyed me with quiet admiration.
"Opening up stone-cold assassins who wouldn't crack under torture—in moments. Impressive, sir."
"Not that big a deal. Anyway, true to my word, you—the first to answer. What's your name?"
"Bink. No family name."
"Bink, huh? I swore on my name, so you're coming with me."
As I said it, I signaled discreetly: kill him outside, out of sight.
"With your edict and command of the Inspectorate, do you need my permission, sir? As you wish."
The torturers unchained Bink, and Inspectorate agents escorted us out to the Reichsburg outskirts.
Bink, thrilled to be alive, bowed repeatedly, vowing to live right from now on.
Tough luck for him—I never planned to let him live.
His cooperation earned him a quick, painless end, tops.
"Bink, right? Here's 20 gold. Grab your family and run—fast. Exile abroad. Settle any farm as freeholders with your own land."
Tears streamed as he bowed, thanking me profusely.
The moment he clutched the pouch, head fully bowed, guard down, I drew my sword and severed his neck.
His head flew with a whoosh, blood spraying a bit, but he went peacefully, unaware.
Before heading to the palace, I pried the gold from his hand.
"Died outside without more torture. I kept my word. Your family? I'll make them office slaves instead of mines or brothels."
A week later, under my command, the Inspectorate—with Imperial Guard and 7th Guard Division troops—rounded up Black Moon and all connected nobles.
I needed to consult His Majesty on their fate, but this time, the meeting wasn't in the audience chamber. For utmost secrecy, it was set for a tavern.