Great Cleanup (4)
The Pope of the Romper Church had no blood heirs, neither official nor unofficial. How could someone devoted to God create offspring through sexual reproduction? Yet the Pope clearly had a son—not born of copulation, but of the heart.
His one and only child of the heart: Valerian. From childhood, he'd shown extraordinary talent for divinity, sprouting like a rare seedling. Now, he'd even earned the title of Saint.
But what good was being called a saint?
"What the hell kind of mess have you gotten into for a letter like this to arrive?!"
He was always pulling stunts like this. The previous incidents had been the sort you could grit your teeth and overlook if you tried hard enough. But this one? It was on another level entirely.
The Empire had sent a letter reeking of fury—delivered not through normal channels, but by messenger bird? This was no trifling matter.
But...
"Father, it's fine. Just trust me—I can handle it."
Hearing his son's nonchalant reply nearly made the Pope's insides explode.
The Empire might project a mild image now, but go back just a few generations, and it was a terrifying beast. Step out of line? Die. Don't want to die, so you rebel? Still die. Fine, flee to another country—but leave everything behind. Refuse? Die. It purged anyone with even a whiff of disloyalty, like culling rebels before they could sprout. Immediate execution for the slightest hint of defiance. After dancing that bloody dance once, generations passed, and the mild Empire of today was born.
"How do you plan to resolve... Wait, resolve? Are you saying you know what's happening in the Empire right now?"
"Of course. How could I not?"
"And you knew, but didn't share it with me?"
"I was handling it on my own."
Crack, bam!
"Gah! A sudden kick..."
Despite his advanced age—where it took two hours of stretching just to loosen up—the Pope forgot his body's screams and kicked his son square.
"You madman! You couldn't handle it yourself, so an imperial letter ends up in my chambers, and you're this calm?!"
"It's really fine. The Northern Grand Duke's rebellion must have failed, but there won't be any backlash against us."
"The Empire demands the truth—and compensation, no less. No backlash?"
"Just that part... Just give in on that one thing. Nothing else. They won't find out anyway. They're pissed about the rebellion, so dispatch a few priests and it'll be settled."
"Hah, easy words."
"It's true. And it's part of my plan too."
"Your plan?"
Plan or bullshit? The Pope shot him a look that said no approval until he heard a proper explanation. Saint Valerian shrugged and continued.
"The Northern rebellion has left a huge troop vacuum up there. We're under suspicion, so to clear it, we send forces north."
"Yes, that's the Empire's demand... And refusing means who knows what they'll do."
"So just comply. Comply, and finally proselytize openly in the Empire."
"Proselytize?"
"Yes. The North is a harsh place to survive from the start. If our dispatched priests show divinity there, how easy would conversion be?"
"..."
The Pope held his tongue. Ignoring the imperial letter was one option. Or he could snap back, demanding why they'd suspect them like this. But...
'The Empire has solid evidence. We have no choice but to comply.'
The situation was unfavorable for the Holy Kingdom. His own son was blatantly involved, and priestly conscience made ignoring it hard. Proselytizing amid that?
'Not a bad idea.'
But risky too. The Empire hadn't said anything against religious activity, but proselytizing under the guise of atonement? Still, it aligned with Romper doctrine—natural enough. No forced stretch.
"...Fine, do it your way. Dispatching them doesn't change anyway."
"Father, you have to trust me completely."
With permission granted, Valerian grinned slyly.
'So the Northern Grand Duke's dead in the end?'
One rival down. But showing it outwardly was amateur hour.
'Today, I can chat with Mirne about the sorrow of losing a friend.'
Perfect conversation fodder. Valerian was already thrilled at the thought.
"Oh, and if the dispatched ones try proselytizing, punish them harshly."
"Is that okay?"
"Their dispatch is certain, so when they announce it, we send another letter timed perfectly."
Exactly when the Holy Kingdom's people arrive north: send a letter stating...
"If you're here for compensation, stick to that—or proselytize and face consequences... Dress it up appropriately."
"Yes, sir!"
The Foreign Affairs would handle the polish.
"Blood winds have blown through the North and East; the center has massive personnel gaps too. Recruit talent aggressively, no status restrictions."
"Y-Your Highness. If I may humbly object, that could provoke backlash from existing nobles..."
"Haha, won't I take care of the nobles? They're temporary anyway. No worries."
"Your Highness's grace..."
"Spare the flattery. How's the academy?"
"We're devoting all efforts, but..."
"Expected timeline."
"Two years, sire."
Two years was too long. Sure, for an empire, that was lightning fast—but without knowing why Mirne wanted an academy, sucking my thumb for two years felt wasteful.
'Can't rush completion now.'
As Crown Prince, if a mountain annoyed me mid-stroll...
'That mountain blocks the sun—move it.'
'Yes, Your Highness.'
...I had that power. But with administrative vacuums everywhere, overworking more was unwise.
'Speaking of, one of the Executioners wields a hammer.'
Should ask her. With that thought...
"Council ends here today."
I rose immediately after the breakfast-like state council.
'Too much to do.'
Finishing the urgent cleanups was great, but in the process, I'd trashed all the furniture too. Obvious mold magnets, so all discarded—now the house was empty, and filling it was the issue.
"Whew."
Post-council, I retreated to my room and checked the reward for resolving the Northern cleanup.
Situation resolved perfectly.
'Convenient Empire Status Window' acquired.
Manage the Empire more conveniently.
Convenient Empire Status Window. Meaning, an upgraded version of the previous one for easier oversight.
Ding!
Empire Status Window
Displays the Empire's current status. Limited in early stage.
Administration: Top
Treasury: Insufficient
Military: Disaster
Diplomacy: Disaster
Corruption: Adequate
*Massive upheaval in East and North. Temporary simple reports displayed.*
Simple Eastern Report
All sectors recovering swiftly to normal. Jabairen Marin's efforts shining. Excellent pace—strong East returning soon.
Simple Northern Report
Unrest forces all eliminated. Northern front extremely unstable. Untreated soon, monsters breach. 'Northern Staff' Estella Naib managing. Optimal countermeasures, efficient mage use—front barely held. Urgent support needed.
"...?"
I was baffled right away.
"Nothing changed."
What made it 'convenient'? I'd ponder later. Post-Northern cleanup, the window showed real shifts.
'Corruption finally hit Adequate.'
From Disaster before. We'd carved out most rot.
'Treasury and military worse, but temporary.'
North to East to academy—money sinks everywhere, treasury empty inevitable. Military: Grand Master Northern Duke and Swordmasters all dead—weakening natural.
'Doom probability 80%, covenant clues acquired...'
Checking gains, I drew the sword from bisecting the Northern Duke.
"Fits 'Sword of the Future'—way stronger than modern blades."
Custom for him: bone-chilling just holding it.
'Hm?'
Holding it revealed new energy before unfelt. Like detecting unmanned drones back then.
"Spirit? A spirit-infused weapon?"
Rrrumble.
Mentioning spirit made it quiver. Later, melt sword, extract spirit.
'So much to do, time short.'
That instant—as if waiting—
Moving to resolve your concerns!
Whoosh!
It popped a tech tree chart. Not 'like' one—actual tech tree, Civilization-style. Tons of entries. My eyes locked on rare resources and tech.
Stuff absent from typical romance fantasy.
"Magic engineering? Gears? Ha, beyond swords and magic—what else?"
Mecha dragons possible? Why though? World-building arbitrary—skip nitpicking.
'Tech tree given, but no points to spend?'
Separate reward? Anyway, useful—paused thinking.
"Arbeda."
"Yes! Your Highness!"
I summoned Arbeda instantly. Calling her was joke—say name to air, she pops out.
'More like summoning.'
Anyway, quizzed her on Executioner insights.
"Northern Duke knew Executioners existed, treated as rumors... When did Empire last deploy them directly?"
First doubt: their use. Why his shock, rumor-treatment?
"Most recent suffice?"
"...Still no honorifics, whatever. Yes, that."
"No one commanded Executioners since Great Prophet."
"What?"
Shocked. Never used? Five bioweapons held unused? Holding nukes deters, sure—but non-consumables, yet no emperors used?
'Why? Reason?'
Covenant-bound unused? Bizarre.
"Did Great Prophet use them?"
"Yes, but pre-birth, details unknown."
"..."
Used once, liked, covenanted long-term, payment to descendants?
'How interpret?'
Two hypotheses:
1. Genuinely liked, long contract.
2. Future-proofed via covenant.
2 obvious, but future vague.
'Empire fall?'
Or Executioners to Maselin sparks something. Easy villains: black mages, demon king.
Fastest: contact Mirne direct.
'Empire still empire—use this power.'
Cleanup done, sorting underway.
"Romper Church claims monotheism, right?"
"Yes."
"Then..."
Brief ponder, quick decision.
"Time for a grand imperial banquet."
Time to stir the pot properly.