The Emperor Slayer (4)
Ordinary events don't change people. Conversely, extraordinary events do. In the original story, after killing the emperor, Leonhardt crossed an irreversible river and went berserk, purging half the nobles in the imperial palace. Regardless of guilt, anyone even remotely pro-emperor was slaughtered.
But in this timeline, he didn't kill the emperor. As a result, some lock in his heart that should have broken remained intact. The number of purged nobles dropped dramatically—about one-fifth of the original count, proportionally speaking. He investigated thoroughly and executed only those deeply involved in black magic and immortality research.
Even the leader of the anti-emperor faction voiced concerns during a secret meeting.
"I'm worried you're leaving too many enemies alive. It might be fine now, but could this sow the seeds for the empire's division later...?"
"I won't rule the empire through fear like my father did. They'll do the math and see that cooperating with me is the better choice than opposing me."
There was no mad, patricidal tyrant born as fated. With a cool head, Leonhardt embarked on a more difficult, precarious tightrope walk. Friends close by. Enemies even closer. He was like a lone gladiator stepping into the arena, a warrior resolved to fell lions and rhinos with a single sword.
In that resolute heart lingered one massive question.
That day, who the hell was she—the woman who stabbed the emperor to death?
There was no word on the Rogue Master.
The official announcement claimed the emperor died of a chronic illness—a lie from the now-dominant anti-emperor faction to minimize chaos. Even in this backwater town, rumors flew that he'd been assassinated. In the end, there was no wanted poster for the emperor slayer.
"Teacher Garden! Play soccer with us!"
"No way! Teacher's coming with us to make flower crowns in the flower field!"
The kids split into boy-girl teams, battling it out to claim me. This is why being popular is exhausting.
"Is this the Blanc Orphanage?"
Just then, a commotion erupted out front. I went to check and found a woman in administrative robes I'd never seen, flanked by about ten soldiers.
"What's this about?"
"We received a report of unauthorized private militia training here!"
"What? That's just PE."
It's a harsh world out there. Everyone—man or woman—needs basic self-defense skills. So all the orphanage kids learned simple swordsmanship from me.
"PE? Never heard of it! An armed group of over a dozen adults. Are you running a mercenary band instead of an orphanage?"
This era was too primitive to grasp that kids need exercise to stay healthy. Of course, I was also teaching the ex-bandits and current staff—not just the kids—which must've made it look like an armed force, spooking them.
"We've already cleared that with the mayor."
Our tribute gold had kept things smooth so far. What changed?
"The former mayor's out. As of yesterday, I'm the new mayor of this city."
Huh. Makes sense. Long story short, this isn't a free city. The mayor isn't elected by citizens or guilds. It's under a lord's rule—and apparently, a chain reaction from the emperor change reached all the way down here, swapping the mayor.
"We've confirmed this orphanage funneled gold into the former mayor's pockets under the guise of 'administrative development funds'! That's why it's even more suspicious! Speak! How does a rundown orphanage scraping by on donations amass that much gold? And why build up an armed force like that?!"
Oh, that idiot ex-mayor. We greased his palm, and he still left a trail? The guy's a talent for making life miserable.
'Suspicious private armed group, bribing the mayor too. Yeah, even I'd want to dig into that.'
To preserve my peaceful orphanage life, I needed to deal with this nagging woman. So, how?
'Gotta craft a story fitting for an eager newbie.'
I pulled back my robe's hood and deactivated the Disguise Skill on my body. The dignity befitting a Rogue Master shone for all to see.
"Gasp!"
"Whoa."
"......"
The mayor's soldiers recoiled at my face. The mayor flinched too but tried to play it cool out of pride.
"Could we discuss the details privately somewhere quiet? It's rather sensitive."
"What trick is this?!"
The new mayor tried to resist my ploy, but my teary-eyed gaze broke her.
"Fine, I'll hear you out. But try anything funny, and you'll dine in the underground jail tonight!"
I invited the mayor to the orphanage's guest reception room. As I brewed her a cup of black tea, I spun my tale.
"Truth is, I'm the daughter of a provincial noble. I even had a fiancé promised for the future. But another noble took a fancy to my face, and I was forcibly defiled, losing my purity."
"No way!"
The new mayor fumed as if it were her own tragedy.
"I couldn't keep my purity, so the engagement broke off, and my family cast me out. Doomed to a life without marriage, I resolved to become a mother to parentless children. That's why I founded the orphanage. I teach the kids swordsmanship so they never suffer like I did."
"To think..."
"The money we gave the former mayor was every last coin I got as severance when my family disowned me."
Mixing in some emotional acting with the lies brought tears to the new mayor's eyes.
"I had no idea!"
'Her reaction says we're off the hook for tributes from now on.'
"I'll return every coin confiscated from the former mayor to the orphanage!"
'Nice.'
Most issues resolved. New problem: the orphanage can't flaunt wealth anymore.
"Sorry for the late intro. I'm the new mayor, Lilian. Come to me anytime you need help."
And just like that, I gained a new mark—er, friend.
Leonhardt, who didn't kill his father, avoided mania. But those who saw him work called him mad anyway.
Do you know how many territories and people the empire has? A population of 100 million. Combining all that administration is unimaginable.
That's why feudalism shines. The bottom handles the basics, consolidates upward. With some autonomy, overload is avoided.
But Leonhardt declared he'd inspect every nook from the empire's lowest levels. Reports from the very bottom flooded the palace. An inhuman volume.
And he truly reviewed every single one. Madness of another kind.
As a result, a ridiculous incident occurred: a local mayor's routine report landed directly in the emperor's eyes. Like a modern fifth-grade civil servant's log reaching the president over nothing.
But it happened.
'Why the hell did this guy write that in an official log?'
The report detailed Lilian's visit to Blanc Orphanage.
Today, I raided Blanc Orphanage to investigate suspicions of a private armed group and illicit ties to the former mayor.
But what I witnessed was the descent of an angel. Garden, one of the orphanage's caregivers, was breathtakingly beautiful. Silver hair like melted moonlight, blue eyes embracing the sky. A woman this stunning couldn't possibly be a criminal.
The funds that flowed to the former mayor weren't bribes but extortion. Garden, a noble lady with a tragic backstory, donated her entire severance from her disowning family to the children.
Suspecting such a noble soul was a sin in itself. I made a grave mistake! Goddess, forgive my ignorance!
Regarding the private armed group: It was merely self-defense training to protect the children.
Conclusion: Blanc Orphanage — No Charges.
Hard to believe, but this diary-like drivel was the report. Why mention the caregiver's beauty in an investigation?
Leonhardt felt the urgent need for administrative reform and moved to scrap it. But one detail nagged at him.
Silver hair, blue eyes? How many such people in the empire? That rare combo plus unbelievable beauty?
Was it her? The emperor slayer. The woman who killed his father.
If so, what should Leonhardt do? Send a thank-you wreath for doing him the favor?