Smuggling (3)
Perhaps it was because my swift apology had landed at the most exquisite possible moment.
"If Arto says so… well, I suppose there's nothing for it, then."
Fortunately, Artraia's fury lost its way and simply melted into the empty air. Once the anger—if that was even the right word—had subsided, her mood seemed to settle as well. She settled her exquisite form back onto the sofa, tilted her head at me with a look of mild puzzlement, and spoke.
"By the way, Arto… if that's really the case, couldn't you have just handled it yourself without bothering to tell me?"
I shrugged at her words, as if to ask what kind of nonsense that was.
"No. When it comes to the Predecessor Emperor, whatever it is, it's better that you know."
"Mmm… well, I suppose that's true…"
Seeing her rather ambivalent reaction, I drove the point home.
"Think about it. If I dealt with the Predecessor Emperor without telling you and just swept it under the rug, your blade might end up pointed at me."
Common sense, really. When it involved one's own parent, having a stranger take care of the matter however they pleased would leave a foul taste—regardless of whatever feelings one actually held toward that parent. I explained it as my own particular brand of consideration toward her, but…
"I would never do that!"
"Oh."
Artraia barked the words at the top of her lungs.
"Did you actually think I would turn on you of all people, Arto?!"
"…"
At that, I took a brief moment to revisit a few past incidents. A short while later:
"Is that so… is that how it is…"
"Arto, why does your face look like a monk who's just achieved enlightenment?"
"I will not be explaining the reason."
Ever since she had taken the throne, Artraia had donned an iron mask so complete that merely guessing at what lay beneath it sent a chill down my spine. But that wasn't the important thing right now. I had Riel bring over the materials I had prepared in advance, using the chance to clear the awkward atmosphere once more.
"Here you go, yeah."
"What's that supposed to be?"
When Artraia eyed the documents Riel had carried over with open suspicion, I finally felt ready to proceed and opened my mouth.
"This is the method our Foreign Executive Ministry has planned for this operation."
"Hmm?"
The moment the words left my lips, every trace of her earlier disheveled demeanor vanished. In an instant her eyes regained the full dignity of the Iron-Blooded Sovereign, and she began poring over the materials I presented with meticulous care. Barely a few minutes later:
"Haa… so in simple terms, you want to use those loyalists to siphon resources and technology out of Prosnak… is that it?"
"Exactly."
A plan I had sweated over for a full five hours before coming here, and she had not only grasped it but summarized it in a matter of minutes. I felt a vague sense of injustice at the sight, yet I still nodded in affirmation.
"To be precise, it's a modified version of the overseas spy network I used to rely on so often—something you're already quite familiar with."
"I see."
At my explanation (such as it was), Riel leaned in from behind and whispered carefully into my ear.
Whisper-whisper.
"Minister, isn't that just the same thing, yeah?"
"Quiet, Riel."
I was trying to sound at least somewhat impressive—how dare this detestable-intelligence humanoid interrupt so cluelessly? I was in the middle of shoving her forehead away when Artraia spoke up again, this time with a question about the plan.
"But Arto… will those people even listen?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your Purge Squad went all-out on the interrogations, right? Looking at this data… they held onto their will even under that kind of high-intensity questioning. How exactly do you plan to turn them?"
I found myself nodding inwardly at her words.
True enough—they did have rather formidable willpower…
I hadn't conducted the interrogations myself, but they had received my instructions through the screens, so they certainly knew I was involved.
"Duke Arto, you bastard! Even if you cloud His Majesty's eyes, our loyalty will never change!" …or something like that.
There had also been plenty of ranting about how my overreach would never have been tolerated if the Predecessor Emperor were still alive, and so on. Given that I was trying to make use of people who were essentially walking bundles of conviction and willpower, I hadn't exactly been holding high expectations myself. I had merely confirmed through the salt-field method that their loyalty was directed not purely at the Predecessor Emperor but at the Empire and the Imperial House. My only thought had been that, if things went well, I might be able to repurpose them.
But after skimming the plan one more time, Artraia produced an answer I had not anticipated at all.
"I understand… so you came because you need my help."
"…Hm?"
"All right. Then I'll speak with them myself."
Out of nowhere she declared that she would personally converse with the key figures we had captured—the loyalists. I felt a jolt of dismay and tried to dissuade her.
"Are you certain that's wise? I realize I'm the one who brought this up, but… for you, those people are the sort who provoke a visceral sense of revulsion, aren't they?"
"And yet the person who knows that perfectly well still shoved this in my face?"
Once she put it that way, even ten mouths would not have been enough for me to answer. Opening my mouth any further would only amount to confessing that I had brought the matter to her without thinking it through. Seeing my expression, Artraia placed a hand over her chest and spoke.
"You don't need to worry so much. How many times have I already received help from you?"
"…"
"I have to do at least this much if I'm going to repay even a little of the debt I owe you…"
I had never asked her to go that far. Her words made the old heartburn flare up all over again.
And so, in accordance with the demands of our most august Emperor, we secretly transferred the "loyalists" we had been stashing at the Foreign Executive Ministry base all the way to the Imperial Palace.
"Urgh…"
"Y-you damned, cursed bastards… if His Majesty learns of this, He will never forgive you!"
Of course, no one had paid the slightest attention to the safety of the cargo during transport, so the bodies of those dragged in were uniformly free of any unbruised flesh. Their vision had been completely blocked to make escape impossible, which meant they had slammed into every available surface without even realizing it, leaving them covered head to toe in contusions. And yet, even with body and spirit exhausted, they still burned with defiance toward the people who had tortured them.
"Impressive, yeah. I didn't expect them to keep up the rebellious act even in this state."
Even Riel the humanoid was astonished—that was how far it went. But this was no time for us to stand around marveling at the sight.
"Remove their blindfolds."
"Yes, Minister!"
The moment we seized them to take off the blindfolds, the loyalists thrashed and raved all over again.
"W-what are you trying to do now?!"
"Don't touch me! Let go!"
"Aaaah, Your Majesty the Emperor! Please watch over us!"
But once the blindfolds were actually stripped away…
"…Your Majesty?"
"O… ooooh…!"
"Let us hear what you have to say."
The instant they confirmed that the Empire's greatest and only Emperor, Artraia herself, had descended upon them in person, the situation resolved itself in the blink of an eye. When we had handled them, it had taken days of work just to extract a single route.
"I see. Then… would you be willing to devote yourselves to the business relationship with Prosnak—for Us and for the Empire?"
"Of course, Your Majesty!"
"Our sole purpose in life is to devote ourselves to the Imperial House and the Empire! Please give us any command You wish!"
One word from Artraia, and they were ready to hand over their livers and gallbladders both; high-grade intelligence on every route came pouring out in torrents. Watching the scene from a distance, Riel leaned over and spoke.
"Minister, you're feeling pretty mixed right now, yeah."
"…I have nothing to say to that."
Still, this was precisely the moment when humanity's friend, the AI, ought to step forward. I was about to answer her with genuine emotion…
"It's like you fought tooth and nail with slogans flying just to get a result, and then the other side presses a single button and gets the same thing—or better, yeah."
"…"
"Click, click, click, click."
"…"
…only to realize she was simply teasing me. Once this business was finished and we returned to the Foreign Executive Ministry, I would have no choice but to swing the Etiquette Injection Rod Mk. 47 at Riel—who had clearly believed the top of her head was inviolable—and administer a dose of justice.
"Wait just a second, yeah, that was only a joke to lighten the mood—"
Clang!