Orchestrating a Noble's Assassination (4)
"Come to think of it, we still haven't properly introduced ourselves. I am Daimond."
"Caenderic de Lichtenhaus."
"Did you just say Lichtenhaus…?"
Daimond's eyes went wide. The hand he had extended for a handshake trembled faintly. I took it without ceremony and spoke.
"Is something the matter?"
"No. I was merely startled to find myself face-to-face with a member of the family that holds the Empire's real power."
"Hardly. The Empire's authority rests with the Imperial House. However accomplished the Lichtenhauses may be, we are still only nobles living under the same sky."
I said as much, though in truth Daimond was not wrong. It was not the Imperial House that held the Empire's reins, but Lichtenhaus. And that was precisely what should never have been allowed. Even the current head of the house—my own father—was steeped in corruption.
I knew better than anyone where that road ended.
"Furthermore, I am pursuing this matter in a personal capacity. It has nothing whatsoever to do with my family."
"I see. I understand perfectly."
"It shouldn't prove difficult. All I ask is that you move as I direct, sir."
"And what exactly am I to do?"
"For a start, I would like you to change residences. I've already secured a house."
Daimond's gaze traveled slowly over the cabin. He had been driven out against his will, yet years of living here would have left their mark—little attachments, quiet memories. Leaving such a place was never easy on the heart.
Had he finally made up his mind? His eyes returned to me.
"Give me some time to pack."
"How long will you need?"
"A day will do. There isn't much to take, in any case."
"Then I shall send a carriage here in two days. I'll explain the rest then."
"Very well."
That concluded my conversation with Daimond. I left the cabin at once and climbed into the waiting carriage. A faint jolt, and the vehicle began to roll forward.
The revenge had only just begun.
"Grandpa, I've finished packing."
"I've just finished myself."
Two bundles lay on the cabin floor—everything the pair of them owned. Far too little to call a proper move. Most of Daimond's things were tools for crafting magic tools; of personal belongings, he had almost none.
He stroked Alice's hair as he spoke.
"Alice. Are you truly all right with this?"
"With what?"
"I'm asking if it doesn't sadden you to leave this forest."
"I'll miss playing with the animals, but it's okay. I decided this myself."
"Good girl. I'm proud of you."
Daimond was simply grateful that she had chosen to follow an old man's decision. At the same time, he felt a pang of guilt.
An ordinary child her age would have cried and thrown a tantrum, begging not to go. That he had failed to raise her as an ordinary child was something that, as her guardian, he could not help fretting over.
The carriage arrived at the cabin the following day. The man who stepped down was not Caenderic.
"I am the steward in service to Master Caenderic. I have been ordered to escort the two of you."
"I see. Then I leave it in your hands."
"Is this all of your luggage?"
"It is. But where is the carriage we're meant to ride in?"
There was only the one carriage the steward had arrived in—an elegant vehicle of the sort nobles typically used. Daimond was looking about for some shabby conveyance meant for commoners.
The steward stowed their bundles in the luggage compartment as he answered.
"You will ride in this one."
"Ah—but commoners like us couldn't possibly—"
"Master Caenderic instructed me to see that you do."
Daimond could scarcely believe his ears. He knew what nobles were like: people who could not abide a speck of dust on their clothes, who flew into a rage if so much as a drop of mud splashed their shoes. That a Lichtenhaus—a noble among nobles—would seat them in a carriage of this caliber was unthinkable.
He was still hesitating when the steward spoke again.
"You need not worry. Those were my exact orders."
"W-well then. Excuse us."
Daimond stepped aboard with uncertain feet. The interior was luxurious beyond description. The seats were softer and more inviting than the bed he had used in the cabin, and the curtains that veiled the windows were finer than any blanket.
"We will depart."
At the coachman's word the carriage set off. Outside the window, the cabin dwindled, then vanished entirely from view.
"Grandpa, I've never ridden in a carriage before…!"
"Neither has this old man—not one this fine, at any rate."
Alice's legs swung happily back and forth. Daimond ruffled her hair and turned his gaze to the steward.
"If it isn't too forward of me, I would like to ask one thing."
"Of course. Please."
"What sort of person is Master Caenderic, exactly?"
The steward closed his eyes for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then he opened them again.
"It is not my place to presume to define him. Even so, if I must offer what little insight I possess—he seems more noble than anyone I have known, and at the same time not noble at all."
"I believe I understand what you mean."
Everything about Caenderic had been aristocratic—the refined gait, the cool manner of speech, even the cast of his glance.
And yet he had not been aristocratic at all: the way he had seated himself without a second thought on a dust-laden chair; the way he had drunk the tea Daimond himself had poured. He was a man of true contradictions.
"Since the subject has come up, I should also convey another of Master Caenderic's instructions."
"And what is that?"
"Regarding the magic tool he left with you earlier. He asks that you prepare a document proving the defects in goods manufactured by the Rosman Marquisate."
Daimond froze for an instant. The magic tool Caenderic had given him had already been dismantled and turned into a toy for Alice.
At that moment Alice, who had been listening, went round-eyed.
"Ah—! I took that whole thing apart—mph?"
"I understand. I will prepare the document."
Daimond hurriedly covered Alice's mouth as he spoke. He had already examined the Rosman Marquisate's magic tools thoroughly enough; even without the physical specimen, drafting the report would be no difficulty. There was no need to volunteer unnecessary details under the circumstances.
"…He also said that if you require any magic tools, you need only ask."
"I-is that so. Well then, I—"
"Do you require them?"
"In that case, I'll take one of each kind."
To think he had even anticipated that they would use the tool. Daimond found himself newly unsettled by Caenderic.
With Daimond's cooperation, the groundwork was more or less in place. Seizing the magic tool market from the Rosman Marquisate would only be a matter of time.
But that alone was not enough. Gasfield—and the entire Rosman Marquisate—had to be cut clean out of the Empire. Men who committed fraud on goods supplied to the military had no further place within it.
Before beginning the work in earnest, I reported to the Inspectorate for the first time in a long while. And there I found him—the man who wanted me dead.
Gasfield studied my face for a moment, then inclined his head lightly.
"A pleasure, Inspector Caenderic. I believe this is the first time we've met."
"Yes. A pleasure."
"You've been rather scarce of late. Working a case, are you?"
"It would appear someone has been committing fraud on goods supplied to the military."
"I see. That must be trying. Do take care of yourself as you work, though. We inspectors have a way of earning people's grudges, do we not?"
On the surface it sounded like concern. In truth it was little different from a threat—a warning that if I kept moving as I had, I might find myself in very unpleasant circumstances. Coming from the very man who had ordered my assassination, it was almost laughable.
I forced down the urge to draw my sword then and there.
"I'm afraid I cannot. Even at this moment, the Empire is crawling with parasites that are rotting it from within. I intend to cut every last one of them out."
"And just what is it you're doing all this for?"
"Is there any other reason? Everything is for the Empire."
I brushed past him and entered the building. Following the long corridor, I arrived at last at the office of the 1st Division.
"Good day, Chief."
"Ah. Reporting in after quite a while. Have you settled that business of yours?"
"It's still in progress."
"Then I assume you have a reason for coming all the way here…"
"I intend to investigate the Rosman Marquisate."
"…So it was Gasfield who did it."
As expected of the Chief. I hadn't needed to explain a thing; he had understood at once. His insight never failed to impress me.
"That should thin the enemy within by one, at least."
"Then I'll leave the work on this end to you."
"Very well. Leave it to me."
That I, an inspector of the 1st Division, would investigate the house of a 3rd Division inspector was certain to set the 3rd Division howling.
Chief Albert had been watching for every chance to reform the Inspectorate; this would serve as a considerable opportunity for him. At the very least, it would amount to a declaration that the 1st Division would no longer sit quietly as it had until now.
"I'll take my leave, then."
"Do. I'm counting on you."
I left the 1st Division's office at once. Next came the journey to the Rosman Marquisate.