Thalianum Depletion Crisis (2)

A few days after the imperial court conference had ended.

—Beep-beep-beep!

“Ah, fuck.”

The Empire’s government and parliament were living through days so frantic they barely had time to breathe.

“Route X37-11511-0553 is completely jammed from excessive traffic volume!”

“Divert part of the Thalianum supply convoy heading that way onto the adjacent route! And tell them to contact Traffic Control about that mess—not us!”

“We already did! Their entire line is dead!”

The shortage of Thalianum was never going to be a simple matter of one resource running dry.

“Sejada Engineering University is requesting emergency Thalianum allocations!”

“Admiral Tu-Shanka of the Second Fleet is asking again! The Thalianum for laser-weapon repairs still hasn’t arrived…!”

“Why is everyone dumping this on me?”

From high-end civilian ornaments and precision-machine circuits on the light end, all the way up to the main gun components of military warships on the heavy end—there was nowhere in the Empire that didn’t use the stuff. The price of treating it with near-total neglect until now was coming due with ruinous interest.

Part of the problem, of course, was that while it went into practically everything, each individual use required only a tiny amount, so its presence had always felt understated…

But there was no time to dwell on that sort of thing.

“…Still, it looks like we’re holding for now.”

The percentage had already shifted in just a few days. At the very least, whatever I was doing wasn’t wrong.

“That’s a relief, yeah. If we keep this up, we shouldn’t have to declare default at all.”

“That would be a real blessing.”

Riel, standing beside me, seemed to share the sentiment.

“Good. We can breathe a little easier for the moment.”

The second I let even a hint of relief show, Riel narrowed her eyes at me.

“…Sometimes, Minister, your way of talking feels really peculiar, you know?”

“Does it? Well, I am a little peculiar.”

Peculiar didn’t even begin to cover it—my true nature was something entirely different from hers—but that was neither here nor there.

“Anyway, things seem to be stabilizing, so it’s about time we went and reported to Her Majesty.”

“Ah, yes! Understood!”

A short while later.

“You may enter.”

“Understood. Your Majesty, your servant Arto and one attendant request entry.”

Following the Grand Chamberlain’s guidance, we stepped into Her Majesty’s reception chamber.

The room was so lavish, solemn, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠majestic that the furnishings in my own quarters couldn’t begin to compare. Everything—from the placement of the sofas and tables to the colors and positions of the ornaments—existed solely to elevate and support the chamber’s true master. You could feel that purpose radiating from every surface.

“Ah, you’re here, Arto?”

Yet sprawled half-reclined across one of those magnificent sofas was Her Majesty herself, dressed in clothes so casual and comfortable they clashed wildly with the opulent furniture.

“…Your Majesty?”

“Huuuh… I’m so tired. Really.”

Even her speech had slipped into something more childish and clingy than usual. I quietly called up the status window to check on her condition.

Even a superhuman emperor of a holy empire was still only twenty. The burden was simply too much for someone that young.

So instead of launching straight into the report as planned, I decided to meet this wilted-mushroom of an emperor at her own level.

“…Mm. The ministers giving you trouble again?”

“Don’t even start. Those trash the previous guy stuffed into every corner are still hanging around, and—”

I hadn’t expected the conversation to open with immediate cursing of the Predecessor Emperor. Anyone else hearing that might have felt their loyalty to the Empire crack at the foundations.

I, of course, felt nothing of the sort.

“Well, the bastard’s idiotic stunts were never just one or two.”

After all, I was the one currently cleaning up the real-time messes that idiot had left behind. If he’d stayed on the throne even one or two more years…

Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.

Just imagining it sent a full-body shudder through me. And the same went for the wilted-mushroom emperor sitting right in front of me—Artraia.

“You’re right, Arto.”

Wearing an oversized T-shirt of unknown origin and sprawled across the sofa, Artraia’s eyes sharpened.

“Handing over the entire northern resource belt and border zones to Prosnak… I still can’t wrap my head around that decision.”

Her words dredged up a memory I’d deliberately buried. Out of nowhere, the previous emperor had simply handed over more than twenty northern star systems—including deposits of rare strategic resources—to Prosnak, currently infamous as the galaxy’s worst space-Nazi regime.

“…Yeah.”

Remembering how thoroughly that single act had wrecked the Sevelian Empire’s diplomatic standing still made my blood boil. Looking at it coldly now, though, I couldn’t help wondering whether some kind of deal had existed between the Predecessor Emperor and Prosnak.

I kept that speculation carefully to myself.

“I’ll hold my tongue on that subject for now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Backing off already?”

There were other things that came to mind as well, but even in a situation like this, some topics simply weren’t safe to voice. So I glossed over it, and the two of us spent a while thoroughly roasting the Predecessor Emperor’s endless parade of idiocy before the conversation naturally drifted to the present crisis.

“Speaking of which, about this latest mess…”

“Ah, right. Another problem caused by that piece of trash, I take it?”

Artraia’s tone was pure exhausted disgust. The dead-eyed look on her small, pretty face said, with every fiber of her being, I don’t want to think about that bastard for even one more second.

But there was no way we could just skip past this between us.

“Huuuh.”

I let out a long sigh, took the documents Riel handed me, and passed them to Artraia.

“See this?”

“….”

Unfortunately, the moment she looked at the materials, her words died in her throat. And no wonder—according to the data on the template I’d handed over, every last bit of this disaster really did trace back to the Predecessor Emperor and his cronies. Worse, the culprits had already been purged over completely different crimes and were long gone.

“…How can those bastards keep causing this much public nuisance even after they’re dead?”

When Artraia finally managed to speak, her voice was thick with barely restrained fury.

“You feel the same way, right? I did too, at first.”

How infuriating was it? You finally track down the cause, identify the culprits, and then—

“Yep, go look them up~ They’re already dead, so that’s that~”

“Goddammit!”

—you discover you’ve been forcibly handed the classic “they’re already dead, so nothing can be done” ending, leaving you with zero options for actual resolution.

“And as you can see, the root cause itself was completely ridiculous.”

“…This is exactly why you always need two or three extra review layers.”

Artraia looked too drained even to stay angry. I understood the feeling completely—especially with the glittering status window floating right in front of my eyes.

Even the quest window’s report seemed to drip with emotion. My head started throbbing just reading it. And that was after factoring in the massive pressure the government had been under at the time because of the Zaniradia Campaign.

“Anyway, that’s the whole story. We managed to put out the immediate fire, and we’ve locked down the information on the civilian side, so there shouldn’t be any further problems.”

“That’s our Arto. I can always trust you with anything.”

We’d somehow avoided the absolute worst-case scenario. That alone was a genuine relief. Because I’d moved quickly enough, I even had the luxury of sitting around trading backroom gossip with the emperor instead of drowning in panic.

After the audience ended, I returned to my room…

“Riel! Riel! Riel! Riel!”

“What is it, Minister?!”

Lying on the bed, I urgently summoned Riel, face tight with tension, voice strained, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I issued my next critical order.

“Turn off the lights.”

“….”

The demonic silhouette that seemed to rise behind Riel’s head after that little prank convinced me never to try it again…

But after that, I finally got a proper night’s sleep for the first time in ages.

Warm maternal sunlight filtered gently through the window. The clean sheets and pillowcase felt soft and fluffy. And at exactly the right moment, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the aroma of my specially prepared favorite coffee drifted over. I woke to all of it and—

“Ahh. What a refreshing morning.”

The long-forgotten sense of ease and leisure made me want to savor a slow morning tea time.

—Beep!

Even the notification chime from my terminal that shattered the mood still felt pleasant as I checked it.

Then I saw the alerts.

—Clink… Crash!

I dropped the coffee cup I was holding, adding a brand-new abstract pattern to the expensive carpet.