Military Supply Corruption, Explosive Terrorism (5)
"Marquis, you appear to be laboring under a misconception. Denying your crimes will not make them disappear."
"Is that so? I never committed any crime to begin with, so I wouldn't know."
"It seems age has dimmed your memory. Allow me to kindly refresh the circumstances for you."
I drew a tightly rolled document from inside my coat and began to read it aloud before him.
"Approximately ten years ago, House Rothman entered the magic-tool trade."
"Hmm. That would be about right."
"At the time, the magic-tool market was dominated by House Ardel and House Rowen. You would have surveyed the market before launching your own venture, so you already know this as well."
"Yes, I know that much."
The real point came after. Watching his face, I continued in an even voice.
"The beginning would not have been easy. Those two houses were far too firmly entrenched. So you decided to solve the problem by attacking their magic-tool workshops."
"Look here. I have no recollection of any such—"
"You contacted a mercenary operating near Rothman territory — a man named Dobern. He was thoroughly reliable, and a mage besides. There was no one better suited to carry out an act of terrorism."
Dobern was the shadow of House Rothman. Most of the commissions he carried out had been requested by the family; it would have been more accurate to call him House Rothman's dedicated mercenary, one who merely took the occasional side job.
Had the Marquis not expected that name to surface? A crack ran through the composure that had sat so easily on his face.
"Dobern bombed both houses' workshops exactly as you instructed. A remarkably careless act. He overlooked the simple fact that mana stones readily retain traces of mana."
Magic-tool workshops overflowed with mana stones. Even if most of them had overloaded in the blast, those that remained would have clearly borne his mana signature. Mages, after all, worked in close proximity to magic tools. He would have known this. It was nothing more than a lapse born of a moment's carelessness.
"I have in my possession the letter you wrote to Dobern, as well as a mana-trace appraisal confirming him as the perpetrator. I will ask you again. Are you still claiming you did not order that attack?"
"Th-that case was already closed! Coming after me now can only be a personal vendetta!"
"Yes, as you say, the case was closed. But an Imperial Inspector has the authority to reopen a concluded investigation. I have already filed the request."
"Th-that's absurd...!"
He hadn't anticipated this either. Dismay washed over the Marquis's face. He had not spoken the words aloud, but it was no different from a confession.
"Since you mentioned personal feelings — you've raised your son remarkably well."
"M-my son? You mean Gasfield?"
"Yes. A highly capable inspector in the Third Division."
"That's right! My son works here."
The Marquis's face brightened. He seemed to think there was still hope. Given how the Imperial Inspectorate had operated until now, it was a reasonable reaction. If the offender belonged to a fellow inspector's family, corruption was quietly swept aside. But that only held when relations were amicable. A colleague who commissioned an assassination was no different from an enemy.
"That same Gasfield placed a commission with a mercenary company."
"A commission...?"
"...To kill Caenderic de Lichtenhaus. I survived, as it happens. Which is why I was able to summon you here to the Inspectorate."
Hope drained from his face, and terror rushed in to fill the vacancy. He stared at me, frightened. Even if clemency were possible, it was another matter entirely when the other party was a family of sworn enemies. They would stop at nothing to take their revenge.
"I-I'll have him killed. No — I'll have him disowned from the family. So please..."
"Don't trouble yourself. I summoned you here for reasons entirely separate from any personal grudge."
The words carried two meanings. First: I held no personal grudge against him over the matter of Gasfield. Second: no matter how thoroughly he beat Gasfield to death, it would have no bearing on my decision. Whether he took that as comfort or as a threat was his own affair.
"W-what do you want me to do? What will it take for you to show me mercy?"
"There will be no mercy. You will pay for your crimes."
"H-how much? I'll give you half the family's fortune — no, all of it. Please, just..."
The arrogant, unhurried noble had vanished without a trace. In his place sat a criminal pleading for clemency. He finally seemed to grasp the situation.
"Well, don't worry yourself too much. Twenty years in prison should about cover it."
"W-wait — twenty years...?!"
Even that was remarkably generous. The dead that day had numbered in the triple digits. Twenty years for killing that many people was practically a gift. The bereaved families would surely beat the ground and wail that the sentence was too light.
"Ah. I misspoke."
"Th-that's right? Twenty years for something like that is far too—"
The Marquis never finished the sentence. I had reached across the table and seized him by the collar.
I knew that many among the nobility had failed to become human beings, but I had not expected it to be this severe. Just what did he take a human life to be? It was because of bastards like him that the Empire would fall.
"You talk too much."
"I-I'm sorry."
I let out a long breath and released him. Every instinct I had wanted to drive his head into the table, but I couldn't. I still had more to say.
"We'll leave that matter there and move on. I understand that House Rothman currently supplies magic tools to the military."
"Th-that's correct, but..."
"There's a considerable discrepancy between the goods specified when the contract was signed and what's being delivered now. Specifically, the quality of the mana stones has dropped significantly."
"Th-that's because the unit price of mana stones has gone up..."
"Then you should have amended the contract. Unilaterally lowering the quality of the goods can only be classified as corruption."
Any number of people must have noticed by now. Magic tools built to last a good ten years were failing within one or two. Anyone paying even a little attention couldn't have missed it. Someone had been covering it up — which meant someone in the military had been taking Rothman money.
And the problem did not end there.
"If it had only been the quality of the stones, that would have been fortunate enough. But in trying to maintain the same performance, the tools were designed to overdraw energy from the mana stones."
"Th-that part I don't really know about..."
"Simply put, they're on a knife's edge. A stroke of bad luck, and they'll explode — producing a considerable number of casualties."
Had the Marquis truly not known? It was possible. If someone had told him and he simply hadn't listened. Even so, that did not change the fact that he was responsible. That was what it meant to be a noble. That was why they stood above commoners. Those who wanted power without responsibility had no place left in the Empire.
"...Those are the crimes I have investigated. Do you admit to all of them?"
"E-everyone lives like this! I'm not the only one who's committed crimes! There are people who've done far worse than—"
"Yes. Everyone lives like that. But don't worry. They, too, will pay for their crimes."
The fact that everyone committed crimes did not make those crimes just. It merely eased the conscience at the moment of the act. I would hunt them down by any means necessary and make them pay. It was the only path by which the Empire might survive.
The Marquis of Rothman spoke with a look of grievance.
"My son — no, Gasfield. Will you let me see him?"
"Not at present. Once you've been detained, a visit should be possible."
That concluded the interrogation. I escorted him out of the Imperial Inspectorate and handed him over to the prison wardens.
When I returned to the Inspectorate afterward, I happened to cross paths with Gasfield as he was leaving for the day. He shot me a sidelong glance and was about to walk past when I spoke.
"Have you decided? Who's going to die?"
Gasfield paused for a moment, then walked on without a word.
The next day, a petition for trial was filed under his name. The defendant was none other than a servant who had attended him.
I had likewise already submitted a petition for the trial of the Marquis of Rothman. All that remained was to wait for the trials to convene.