Theocracy with the Hate AI (3)

The method was simple enough.

It was a matter of turning the fact that the culprit(?) of this incident was a member of the Purge Squad to our advantage.

"Couldn't we simply claim it was an accident that occurred during infiltration training?"

"Does that even make sense?"

The cautious commander of the Orbital Defense Command reacted with clear disapproval to my suggestion.

"If we say 'it was actually training' without a proper operational plan in place, the parliament will demand one without fail."

"Exactly. More than anything, the fact that something as massive as a meteorite—no, a tectonic plate, was it?—was deployed without a single alarm is already serious enough."

When even the commander of the Capital Defense Fleet joined in with a negative stance, I nodded and replied.

"I understand why you would think that. But if it was practical 'infiltration' training, both the parliamentarians and Her Majesty will overlook the absence of alarms."

"Even granting that, what about the operational plan?"

At the mention of the plan, I glanced at Riel behind me. She stepped forward holding a thick stack of printed documents as I spoke.

"The operational plan is right here. Admiral Kazarius of our First Fleet noticed the situation and drafted it separately to send over."

Admiral Kazarius's expression froze solid for an instant at the sight of that paper bundle, then quickly recovered. Of course, the others missed it thanks to the angle of their gazes.

"That's quite a volume. Did you write all of that in a single day, Admiral Kazarius?"

"Ahem... well..."

"Impressive. Normally even simple paperwork takes you months."

"S-sometimes things just work out that way."

Caught between the Orbital Defense Commander's and Capital Defense Fleet Commander's barrage of "praise," Admiral Kazarius had no choice but to manage his expression whether he liked it or not. Throughout the conversation and after it ended, he kept shooting me looks full of pure shock, but—

You lot really were planning a coup, so shut up and stay quiet.

My silent glare made the admiral lower his head in wordless agreement. And it wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just him; I hadn't summoned the others for nothing either.

"This is fabricated accident data our agents pieced together from various real incidents to explain why the training went wrong."

I pulled up the accident reports on the terminal—essentially waving the Capital Defense Fleet Commander's own past screw-ups in his face while calling them a "patchwork."

"The contents differ a little from the operational plan, but people make mistakes in life, don't they? Misunderstandings happen."

"..."

For the Orbital Defense Command, I even mapped out a fictional training route that highlighted their shoddy surveillance-net management, pointing out every broken sensor along the way. After laying it all out like that...

"...Perfect. Yes, it's perfect."

"We can proceed with this."

"..."

Everyone clearly wanted to say something, yet the atmosphere left them unable to voice a single complaint.

"Minister, but if even this fails to satisfy the parliament and Her Majesty, what then?"

When that cautious question surfaced, I nodded and answered.

"Don't worry. I've already prepared something else in case this plan doesn't land."

"If the Minister is that confident..."

"Still, a plan this thorough ought to work, no?"

"Indeed. With this much realism packed in..."

And so the cunning scheme of these sly middle-aged men seemed to wrap up in complete success.

"With evidence this detailed... there's nothing we can do."

"Simply human error. Human error once more."

Even if the fundamental premise was a lie, every piece of data was genuine, so the parliamentarians had no choice but to swallow it whole.

Phew.

It looked like the necks of myself and the old men would remain safely attached after all.

"Mm. Still, an accident is an accident. We cannot simply let those involved go without some form of reprimand."

"Her Majesty speaks truly."

Of course Artraia had no intention of letting slip this perfect chance to further solidify the power of the imperial house—no, of the Emperor herself. Even a reprimand that was little more than a scolding could still place her and her faction in a superior position...

Well, that sort of calculation was surely running through her mind. Unfortunately I was neither a politician nor anything of the sort, so I had no way of knowing exactly what Artraia was thinking. Still, if things continued like this, it would all wrap up neatly without further trouble.

But the moment I allowed myself that thought and relaxed—

At the sudden appearance of a choice event, I felt my sanity get forcibly ejected once more.

What the hell is this?

It was an utterly bizarre event.

Bind me to herself for eternity? Bind what, exactly?

The content was so out of left field that my brain seemed to refuse to process it... but since everything was paused, I spent a long while thinking it over.

...Artraia. Don't tell me.

This whole affair—no, the target Artraia was currently trying to deal with—wasn't our old men at all. It was me. Only then did I belatedly understand what those absurd choice descriptions actually meant.

Pick option 1 and it was an instant pet-life sentence.

Option 2 was a cheerful, fun "logical debate" with Artraia—who ranked in the top five smartest people I knew—that was really just torture time (plus guaranteed defeat).

Option 3 was... "that thing" I had prepared for the old men in case this plan failed.

Seriously, what kind of bullshit railroading is this?

Option 1 was game over the moment you picked it. A straight-up death flag. In the original game it would have been written in red letters with "Low Probability" slapped on it. But the others weren't any better. Option 2 just meant me thrashing around pathetically under Artraia's intellect before getting thoroughly crushed.

If I could beat Artraia with words, I would have been Emperor instead of her in the first place...!

She could fire off a barrage of arguments in a few minutes that I needed days of pause-time just to formulate. In the end, only one choice remained for me.

Can we please stop getting events where the answer is already decided...?

With that thought, I selected option 3 and released the pause.

After various minor discussions, the moment of the Emperor's decision finally arrived.

"The cause of this incident ultimately lies entirely with the Purge Squad, and with the one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who commands them—Arto Virtorius Sevely, Minister of the Foreign Executive Ministry."

Just as the death sentence(?) aimed at me was about to fall—

"If you would wait just a moment, please?"

I looked Artraia straight in the eyes and opened my mouth, ready to deploy the clever countermeasure that would reverse this situation.

"What is it, Minister Arto of the Foreign Executive Ministry?"

"I fully acknowledge that my responsibility is great."

"...?"

"As the materials show, even taking the circumstances into account, management of the Purge Squad falls to me. I know there is no escaping that."

While speaking, I transmitted the truth to Artraia through a coded message of deliberate blinks.

(The accident story is a total lie. But everything in the data is real.)

"However, what my Purge Squad members were rushing to transport was something they knew could cause an accident midway—yet they had no choice."

(And even if a situation like this arose, what we brought was worth every bit of it.)

"...What do you mean by that?"

(What is it?)

The moment Artraia understood my meaning and replied with the same coded blinks—

"Allow me to introduce her. This is Miss Alina, an ancient AI who assisted our imperial personnel during the ruins expedition."

I inwardly declared victory and deliberately used exaggerated gestures to draw every eye toward the ancient AI about to enter through the conference room doors—or rather, toward the humanoid body she controlled.

"...Hoh."

"Ahem, ahem."

"Minister... is that perhaps your personal preference?"

The parliamentarians' reactions were somehow off, so I turned my head in puzzlement—

And there she was.

"Is this how you wanted it, little fleshling?"

"..."

A humanoid whose voluptuous figure the empire's widely worn nun's habit—chosen specifically to reduce rejection—could not fully conceal, was walking toward me with an utterly sunny expression.

And right after that—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A small sound cut through the chaotic noise of the conference room and reached my ear. My head turned toward it of its own accord.

And at the end of that gaze—

"...Hmmm."

—stood Artraia, staring at me with an expression of blazing fury, as if an asura from hell itself had manifested.