Whispers of Rebellion and the Inquisitors' Demise
"The tiger might do this, the fox might do that—signs of rebellion are emerging?"
The Minister of Internal Affairs' report made the Emperor furrow her brow. It was only natural to react that way to news of brewing rebellion. Her grip tightened involuntarily on the document in her hand. The paper crumpled, veins bulging beneath her thin skin.
The Empire had lorded over the other great powers for ages. Soon, it would boast a thousand years of history. If such an empire were to fall, it could only be to a new empire's conquest or overwhelming evil—not to ugly infighting. Never that.
"Tell me the details."
"Yes, Your Majesty. According to the report from the Treasury's Collection Division chief, the financial status of certain nobles looks suspicious. And the Security Division's investigation reveals that those nobles..."
"Republicans."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
Republicans. They were the Empire's enemies, impossible to overlook.
Not that it mattered; aside from the war with the Demon King's army, this was an era of such peace that calling it anything less would be an insult. The ruined lands couldn't be fully revived, but the rest could be held together with blessings and magical fertilizers. Most of the Empire's territory had lost its former glory, yet it remained beautiful. That was why it was the Empire.
Harvests weren't bountiful, but farming went decently enough, and the streets rang with children's laughter. It wasn't empty flattery—outside the northern territories near the front lines, most commoners had forgotten they were even at war.
"A peaceful age, even in wartime."
"It's possible only because the Heavenly Lord and the Great Emperor are moved by Your Majesty's benevolence."
"Pfft, music to my ears."
The Emperor allowed a faint smile as she listened to the minister's flattery. Her lips curved ever so slightly. She gazed out the window for a moment, then spoke while watching her imperial subjects below.
"We mustn't let blood flow in such fine times. Watch them for now. Without just cause, even they won't dare move."
Countless things wouldn't budge without justification. Bureaucrats were one example, but republicans were even more paralyzed by it. Their radical actions and words had brought this on themselves.
Excuses to dethrone the Emperor, dismantle the Empire, build a new nation, abolish class—all extremist rhetoric denying the current order. Despite being mostly commoners, they were despised by their own kind.
Would they be a threat in other times?
The dark reign at the Empire's founding. No need to go that far back—the massive Demon King invasion and accelerating land decay. Back then, the republicans might have gained traction. But not now.
The last century had seen sage and enlightened rulers in succession, stabilizing the decaying lands. No more famines, no more starvation deaths thanks to relief efforts. Having barely survived the crisis, the Empire was now turning it into an opportunity for resurgence. It wasn't the time for republican voices to rise.
The other powers, currently invaded by elves, might be different.
"If I were pulled down, wouldn't the elves invade immediately?"
"Y-Your Majesty! How could you say such—! Your Majesty falling? Impossible!"
"Heh, just talk. Just talk."
Closing the Internal Affairs report with a small smile, the Emperor asked, "Just ten suspect families?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The houses of Elrn, Kailu, Kolon, Baron Harin, Pe, Polin, Haruhi, Demasiran, Viscount Anubis, and Count Poln."
"Investigate them thoroughly and weigh their crimes. Holding hands with republicans means execution is unavoidable, but few merit extermination."
"We shall investigate rigorously to ensure no innocents suffer."
"I trust you."
The minister bowed deeply and exited the office. Alone again, the Emperor sighed. Her eyes fell on reports from the War Ministry and Foreign Affairs.
The Holy Kingdom entering the war.
The Holy Kingdom, which went mad at the mention of the Demon King's army but had stayed hands-off until now—content with dispatching saintesses and priests for hero parties, plus unleashing the 13th Division and inquisitors. Now they declared full participation.
The 13th Division's asymmetric warfare, inquisitors not undeserving of their "mad dogs" moniker, plus the Holy Kingdom's military branches and 12 divisions. The scales, already tipping, swung further toward humanity.
"The real issue is this. The new weapon."
Setting aside Foreign Affairs, she clicked her tongue at the War Ministry report.
M4 HMG... Girls who were firing muskets have somehow built these monsters...
"Full commitment calls for it, I suppose? The age of magic might just end."
The Emperor eyed the report with interest. The brief gun era during the elf invasion, eclipsed by advancing magic. Would this new weapon herald firearms' revival or another downfall? She wondered.
"The continent's about to get noisy."
* * *
Crunch.
The solid iron barrel shatters beneath her foot.
"Impressive."
Rahatrik stared at her slowly regenerating arm. Regeneration was sluggish—noticeably so. Not just the arm; gaping holes riddled her body. Ordinary bullets would crumble on contact with her overwhelming mana pressure, but these pierced straight through.
"Silver bullets etched with exorcism rites. Slows regeneration."
"Guh... heuk... Uwweeeek...!"
"Inquisitor indeed. Still alive with wounds like that."
Rahatrik chuckled at the gaze fixed on her. Eyes brimming with madness. Amid that thick, dark fervor burned nothing but faith—blind, absolute. First, second, even third priority: their god above self or others. Twisted yet pure devotion.
The inquisitor, arms severed, spat blood and spoke.
"M-monster... bitch..."
"Yeah, I'm a monster."
Arm fully regenerated, Rahatrik picked up her fallen sword.
"Was human once."
Before swinging, she added,
"Tell Lumiel I'm doing well."
Slash—
In the snowfields at the continent's northernmost edge, where Maou Castle stood, the last inquisitor vanished.
Rahatrik turned and walked toward the castle. Behind her, piles of corpses—all in matching uniforms—bathed in radiant sunlight, as if granting them rest. She considered basking in it but decided against. She hadn't lost her humanity that far—not enough to disturb the dead's peace.
...Some gaze... Nah, imagination.
An inexplicable stare from behind. Lingering grudges cursing her, she figured. Warm as it felt.
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
Rahatrik entered Maou Castle and headed straight for the throne room. No need for formal audience requests—they'd seen too much of each other over endless years.
"Maou-sama."
Kneeling before the jade throne, Rahatrik began her report.
"The Holy Kingdom developed a new weapon."
"Whuh...?"
"Yes. Not much threat to the Four Heavenly Kings level, but dangerous below that. Especially in groups."
"Mmmph."
"Just two doesn't make Heavenly Kings...? Well, yeah, but..."
A bit sulky at the Maou's point, Rahatrik continued,
"Th-there's no talent worth promoting to Heavenly King. We temporarily slotted in the Yuki-onna, but her independent streak makes formal joining unlikely."
"Milky. Whuh-duh, whuh-oo...?"
"Yeah, well. She's tying down the Northern Hero, so that's her job done."
"Whuh-duh."
The Maou nodded as if agreeing.
She's improved a lot.
Speech still odd, but at least her appearance neared her prime, Rahatrik thought. Before, she resembled some drooling, quadrupedal beast or that dimwit character folks love.
Some power's returned.
Her strength, once rock-bottom, had recovered somewhat. The question was whether her wits to wield it had too.
...Hope the heroes take their sweet time coming.
Rahatrik gazed at the drooling Maou, sighing inwardly.