Military Procurement Corruption, Explosive Terrorism (7)
I stood facing a man with a dagger in his hand. After a glance around the room, I settled into a nearby chair that looked serviceable enough.
Perhaps the gesture caught him off guard. He hesitated, his face drawn tight with tension. Then again, he'd already been tense — anyone would be, if a stranger had just smashed their door in.
Which meant, when it came down to it, that Dwinsen was to blame for this entire mess. That damn fool.
I let out a long sigh, and the man seized on it as if he'd been waiting for his cue.
"Y-you think this is going to stop us? Commoners have a right to know, too! We're sick of being jerked around by you nobles!"
"You're right. Commoners are citizens of the Empire, and they have every right to know. But why are you telling me that?"
"W-well, because you must've seen the posters we put up and come here angry..."
"Well, they were certainly something."
"I knew it, you—"
"An Imperial Inspector exposing corruption is simply doing his job. So why, exactly, were those posters going up?"
Thanks to that little stunt, I'd been subjected to no shortage of pointless stares. Nobles did so love to chew a story down to the bone. I wouldn't have been surprised if a few of them had drained an entire bottle of wine gossiping about me.
Silence settled over the room. The man just stared, looking utterly lost. After a moment, he collected himself and spoke.
"So... you're saying you didn't come here to arrest us?"
"Putting up those posters is certainly a breach of public order. Leave them up and they'll just become litter. That said, I don't have the luxury of chasing down every last scrap of paper."
"Then why the hell did you smash the door...?"
"I'll apologize for that. The fellow I came with is a bit unrefined in his methods. Don't worry, though. We'll pay for the door."
The man glanced around, then set his dagger down on the table. He raised both hands as if to prove he meant no harm.
Either way, it made little difference to me. A puppy baring its teeth wasn't something I needed to fear. Still, the fact that he was ready to talk was a step in the right direction.
That was when it happened. Behind him, a tightly shut door eased open, and several pairs of eyes peeked through the narrow gap. The moment he realized, he whipped around.
"I told you to stay put...!"
"Being cooped up in a cramped room would make anyone restless. I don't mind if they come out."
"And why should we trust you...!"
"Then pick up the dagger, if you'd like."
The man looked at the dagger on the table, then back at me — more precisely, at the sword hanging from my hip. He must have realized it by now. Even when he'd been holding a blade, I hadn't drawn mine.
It was a rather generous show of restraint. Most nobles, faced with a puppy baring its teeth, would have those teeth pulled.
"...Everyone, come out."
At his word, the door swung wide. Four men and women of about his age filed out. I'd already known there were others. There were far too many dishes for a man living alone, and I'd sensed their presence besides.
The atmosphere of the Empire needed to change. Nobles could not be allowed to treat corruption as a matter of course, and the people standing before me were well positioned to make a difference on that front. After all, the nobility lived off the labor and taxes of commoners. Their voices could not be ignored entirely.
The man and everyone with him stared at me as though they couldn't believe what they'd heard. Even I had to admit it was a hard thing to believe, coming from a noble's mouth.
"To that end, I'll give you some information. Or think of it as a commission, if you prefer."
"A commission...?"
"The magic tools produced by the Rothman Marquisate have a serious defect. The odds are low, but they can explode."
One of the women's gazes snapped to the lamp sitting on the table. She picked it up, turned it over in her hands — then yelped and hurled it out the window. It must have been a Rothman product.
The man stared after it in shock, then turned back to me.
"Can we actually trust this...?"
"I just came from proving it in court today. I don't know who your informants are, but they'll hear about it soon enough."
"What are you even hoping to get out of this...?"
"The Empire needs more people like you. The more voices that speak out, the faster change will come."
I drew a gold coin from my coat and flicked it with my finger. It spun through the air and landed neatly in the man's palm. Perhaps it was the first gold coin he'd ever held. His eyes went wide.
"Most people, given an opportunity like this, start thinking they've gained real power. I'd rather you didn't disappoint me."
With that, I rose from my chair. I'd said everything I needed to say. There was no reason to linger.
I stepped outside, and Dwinsen, who'd been waiting, came over.
"All done?"
"...Doors are meant to be opened, not smashed."
"This isn't exactly the kind of neighborhood where common sense gets you very far."
"I can't argue with that."
If we'd tried knocking like civilized people, would they have opened the door? It hadn't happened, so I couldn't say for certain. Then again, I'd smashed a door or two myself, so I was hardly in a position to lecture.
"Dwinsen. Don't forget to get that door fixed."
His way of getting things done suited me well enough.
After the trial of Marquis Rothman concluded, the marquisate's magic tool workshop was shut down at once. Knights moved in to halt all production, and every item sitting in the warehouses was destroyed.
For the artisans who'd been working there, it was a bolt from the blue. They hadn't even known the marquis had been arrested, let alone that a trial had taken place. Overnight, they found themselves unemployed.
They had two paths forward. The first was to open a workshop of their own. The second was to find work at another family's magic tool workshop.
The problem was that neither option was easy. Opening a private workshop required more capital than most expected, and success was far from guaranteed. As for joining another family's workshop — the Rothman Marquisate had monopolized the market so thoroughly that no workshop of any real standing even existed.
And then Sahad appeared before them. His sudden return, after vanishing without a word, was more than enough to command everyone's attention.
"A new magic tool workshop has opened in the Kandel Viscountcy," Sahad said. "They've asked me to hire any artisans who want the work."
To artisans who'd just lost their livelihoods, it was a ray of light. All the more so for those with families to feed. Even so, they had their concerns.
"They're not going to stiff us on wages, are they?"
"R-right. Marquis Rothman did the same thing. He'd make excuses about being short on funds and slash our pay whenever he felt like it."
"If that's how it's going to be, we'd be better off farming somewhere."
What Marquis Rothman had done to them was still fresh in their minds. And given that nobles treated such abuses as a way of life, their reaction was only natural. In fact, a few of them walked away then and there, declaring they would never work under a noble again. Some even chose to abandon the craft of magic tool-making altogether.
Caenderic had instructed him to bring only those who still had the will to work, so Sahad made no move to stop them. And so only those who remained set out for the magic tool workshop in the Kandel Viscountcy.
A few hours later, they arrived at the workshop and came face to face with Daymond, the workshop master. Some of them knew him. Others did not.
"I know you all have your worries," Daymond said. "But in this place, at least, you won't need them."
The letter Caenderic had sent laid out the artisans' wages and working conditions in full. The pay was so high one had to wonder if there would be any profit left at all, and the guaranteed rest intervals were generous enough to make a man forget he was working for a noble. On top of that, room and board were provided — and there was even a subsidy for anyone who wished to purchase a home nearby.
The artisans could only stare, dumbfounded, as Daymond laid it all out.
"Anyone who wishes to leave is free to go. I was instructed to keep only those with the will to stay."
Of all the artisans present, not a single one took a step. They didn't so much as shift their weight. That was how extraordinary Caenderic's terms were.
"My lord Caenderic, the magic tool workshop in the Kandel Viscountcy has sent over some of their products."
"Bring them here."
The head butler arranged the magic tools neatly across the desk and withdrew from the office.
The tools were, without question, far superior to anything the Rothman Marquisate had produced. The finishing was clean, and the baseline performance was excellent besides. They'd even added and refined features that the old products had been lacking. Comparing the two almost felt unfair.
I'd asked them to send prototypes at a quality they could mass-produce, and yet here were pieces this fine. I found myself newly impressed by the artisans' skill.
With this, the workshop could be said to have found its footing. What I needed to do now was secure contracts so it could keep running.
I took a sheet of letter paper from the drawer. The recipient: Caldran de Drake. The general who held complete authority over military procurement.