Eastern Stroll (2)
The words coming from the mouths of the eastern leeches were downright shocking. They claimed they hadn't come to the empire with the intention of sucking it dry from the start. But starting from the Second Prince down to the Eastern Grand Duke, they saw the crown prince—who wielded the emperor's authority by proxy—as a pushover. So they started slacking on everything from reports to formal submissions. Naturally, those under them followed suit, just like the Second Prince's own cronies.
They weren't even properly fulfilling the tribute obligations owed to the empire from the east. And of those botched tributes, a good chunk ended up lining their own pockets. If the Eastern Grand Duke had cracked down, it might have been contained, but he didn't grasp the importance of self-discipline and spent his time gallivanting outside instead.
'So the top dogs were out playing, while the underlings focused on stuffing their pockets.'
A sweet gig had formed where they reaped all the privileges without fulfilling any duties. Money? They got it from the empire, from the east, and if they needed more, they just blamed the Maselin Kingdom and demanded it. And yet, the Empire Status Window still rated the treasury as "Average." That was truly impressive. How overwhelmingly powerful had the empire been set up to be, to endure something like this for five more years?
Such thoughts were fleeting.
"How can those who are not subjects of the empire... exist within the imperial palace?"
I uttered the words deciding the fate of the eastern leeches.
"My apologies. We'll remove them immediately."
"Forgive us! We're so sorry! We've committed a grave sin! Spare our lives! Please, just our lives! Please! Please!"
The knight's response and the leeches' pleas erupted simultaneously.
Did they really commit such acts without anticipating this? No, they knew the risks. But they never dreamed the crown prince would react like this if caught. After all, up until now, he would have let them off even if they were busted.
"Do you have heirs?"
"Y-yes...! We do! We all have sons! We swear we'll never sin again! So please, spare our lives...!"
But that wouldn't happen.
"Good. At least your houses won't be extinguished. Pray in your hearts that your sons serve the empire loyally."
With those final words, the leeches were knocked out by a gesture from the knight. A remarkably merciful punishment. Unconscious, they'd be freed from the pain of death forever. They'd die cleanly without knowing when, and their heads would be sent to their families. The empire had changed, and it was time even the provincial nobles learned that. What better way than kindly delivering the news via their heads?
"Come to think of it, did I summon the Executioners?"
"Yes, and we'll handle these non-subjects before carrying out your command."
The knight paused mid-drag of the leeches like sacks of trash upon hearing me.
'I'm just going for a stroll—no need to drag along all those strategic weapons.'
After a moment's thought, I decided I didn't need the Executioners plural.
"Tell the Executioners to select just one—the one who best suits a stroll with me."
"Understood."
One should suffice.
The Executioners. The empire's strategic weapons. In modern terms, nukes. There were five in total. Some were meticulously cultivated by the empire itself, while others had joined through inexplicable connections. They hadn't sworn absolute loyalty to the empire. But when the empire needed them, they moved. That was the Executioners.
They only stirred when truly required, so...
"Ah, so boring."
They usually lounged leisurely in their personal spaces. Each had their own palace—an extravagance and honor possible only in the vast, obscenely wealthy Bellos Empire. Even with palaces, they did little but waste away the days.
"His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince requests that one among the Executioners accompany him on a stroll."
"What?"
A dopamine-spiking tale pierced their ears. No wars lately was a shame, but a one-on-one stroll with the crown prince who'd flipped 180 degrees? Executioners rarely left their palaces, but they now gathered at the midpoint between them.
"You hear that? Straight from His Highness."
"Not 'said'—he decreed it. Use proper honorifics."
"Ugh, whatever! I already fixed it by adding 'Highness'—that's progress for me!"
"..."
Five gathered, but only two spoke. Elimination narrowed it down naturally.
"The silent three look like they couldn't handle a stroll, let alone daily life. You're out, right? Do you really think a walk suits you?"
"Arbeda, isn't that a bit harsh?"
"No? Just stating facts. And honestly, you don't suit a stroll either. Over three meters tall in that getup—walking with His Highness? Got any shame?"
"And your height isn't much better, is it? I hear you're barely scraping 150cm."
"I-I'm...! This is my style! You think I'm like you? You crazy tin can!"
Thwack. Thwack.
The girl called Arbeda kicked the shins of the one in steel armor over three meters tall. She knew it wouldn't hurt, but it vented her frustration somehow.
"Quite the unique taste. Short stature, twintails, dark elf-like skin... and parts bleached white. What intent, what preference is this?"
"There is such a thing! A profound world you ignorant tin cans wouldn't understand! You know nothing of my noble, deep tastes!"
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
As the kicking echoed, the other three silently turned away. Truth be told, they were excited about the stroll too. But as Arbeda said, they lacked the words or had special circumstances keeping them from it.
"Everyone's leaving on their own? Even you get the hint, tin can?"
"Arbeda, at your age, you're the only one throwing tantrums like this. You're not the only one curious about His Highness's change..."
"So what?! What do you want me to do about it?! Wanna settle it now? Rock-paper-scissors! I'll do rock—you do scissors! Otherwise, I'm really gonna—!"
"...No reasoning with you. Fine, I yield. You go."
"Obviously! I was going anyway! Conversation over—gotta prep for the outing with His Highness. Bye!"
"..."
The "tin can" watched Arbeda skip joyfully back to her palace. Objectively, she was the best fit for a stroll. But...
'Whether she'll mesh with the changed crown prince is questionable.'
He hoped for a safe, uneventful walk. With a quiet prayer, the tin can returned to his palace. In an instant, the Executioner for the crown prince's stroll was decided.
Details on the Executioners hadn't appeared in the novel parts I'd read. Even rummaging through the original owner's memories yielded nothing. It seemed the empire hadn't properly utilized them before.
'Just created as cheat characters for the Maselin Kingdom arc... like overpowered notebook scribbles?'
What that meant was...
"Your Imperial Highness! I, Arbeda, am the Executioner chosen to stroll with Your Highness!"
When the tiny girl before me showed up claiming to be an Executioner, I couldn't tell if it was real or a joke.
But of course.
'No subordinate would dare joke with me now.'
This was no prank. One of the veiled Executioners was a little girl.
She didn't seem like just any girl. She radiated extreme danger at first glance, clumsy speech aside.
"Looking forward to it. I'm Bellon, crown prince."
"Your favor humbles me!"
"..."
A girl who'd been executing people dropping this clumsy act before me... it eased my tension somehow. Then...
"Your Highness, are you sure no other escorts are needed? The road to the east is quite long, I hear..."
The prime minister's words snapped me back to business mode—not quite tension, but close.
"It's fine. More importantly, with the road so long, is it okay for me to be away that time?"
"We all understand Your Highness's will. Worry not."
The prime minister promised to keep purging the imperial center in my absence, grasping my intent. I'd shown examples already, so no major worries there.
'If the country weren't a mess, I wouldn't need this eastern stroll.'
The road east was long. But I had to go personally—staying in the palace meant missing things. Some truths required seeing and feeling firsthand, plus checking provincial nobles en route and sensing the east's state up close. The stroll was essential.
Still, a few pre-departure checks.
"The Second Prince?"
"We'll ensure he never touches imperial affairs, even feigning illness."
"The First Princess?"
"Same as the Second Prince, though she never directly meddled... so we'll allow some luxury, short of excess."
Precisely how to handle the Second Prince and First Princess.
"Perfect. From now on, no imperial kin but me holds sway."
"Noted."
With the prime minister's firm assurance, I felt at ease. Risk of backstabbing in my absence? Negligible. The Grand Marshal was glued to the Second Prince, and the First Princess was just the type to whine at the crown prince in the original story.
"Won't take long."
"May Your Highness remain hale, achieve your goals, and return safely."
"Overkill for a stroll."
Conversation with the prime minister ended there. I nodded to the girl before me—not a girl, Arbeda—and stepped off.
'This little one acts as a nuke on the battlefield.'
What power did she hide? Musing thus, we walked silently out of the palace. Just as we crossed the gates...
"Your Highness! On second thought, even for a stroll, we can't risk your identity leaking. Am I right?"
Arbeda spoke as if she'd been waiting.
"...Yes."
What was she angling for? I had a guess.
"Then! How about faking our relationship?"
"Like?"
"I've always wanted to play dad or big bro, so call me daddy or oppa!"
"...Sibling concept, huh. But our skin and hair are too different."
"Half-siblings from remarriage! Totally different sperm and egg, but fate-bound parents made us stepsiblings!"
I never expected such elaborate setup. And her speech—how awkwardly formal.
"Love the concept, but we won't need it."
"W-why...?"
"We won't head east at normal speed."
Disappointing her sucked, but my stroll wasn't a leisurely carriage ride or hike. Full throttle, minimal breaks, straight to the east's heart. We'd pause briefly at major territories to check their state, but pure travel time? Under a day.
Considering this absurd crown prince body, it was basically a human bullet train.
My map had few rest stops. If reports matched reality there, fine—but mismatches spelled trouble. Otherwise, we'd blink into Marina Polis, the east's capital.
"Still... if, just if the chance arises, I really want to call Your Highness daddy or oppa."
"...Fine. If it comes up, use your setup and call me oppa."
Daddy felt off.
"On rethink, 'orabeoni' fits stepsiblings better. Please reconsider."
Arbeda bowed clumsily. Twintails, huh—why twintails? Thoughts bubbled up and faded. Pointless to dwell.
"Anyway, first stop: Verda Marquis Territory."
"Verda Marquis Territory, you say."
"...Yes. Crossroads linking east and empire, strategic hub... a comma of a place."
Arbeda pretended to listen while eyeing ants on the ground.
'Yeah, the empire's nukes need this fourth-dimensional vibe.'
Honestly, her demeanor posed zero issues for the stroll. The point was gauging noble territories en route.
'Hope it's just the center that's rotten—not the whole empire.'
Key nobles should have their heads on straight.
"Let's go."
"Yep!"
With that, the stroll began.
Five hours in...
"Ah."
I sighed the moment we hit Verda Marquis Territory. A strategic hub should mean elite troops.
'Reports said even regular soldiers wore full top-to-bottom armor.'
So why were these sackcloth-clad dorks with crappy wooden spears before my eyes? How had the empire survived five more years like this?
'Sturdy pillar of an empire, truly.'
This eastern stroll would bring a bloodbath.