Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Empire (9)
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It was a fact I had already guessed.
Ian's former fiancée, his younger sister, and the reactions from his family all pointed to his death.
Still, I couldn't figure out why they had spread the news of Ian's death.
Was it because of the people Irena mentioned who had come looking for him?
Or was it related to why they had stationed me at the foremost frontline?
The Duke of Nordelheim, who had fallen in the subjugation battle, offered no answers.
It might have been both, or perhaps entirely unrelated—an independent incident.
Since this was all pieced together from hearsay, nothing felt definitive.
My personal hunch was that those people searching for Ian might have been assassins.
Judging from those around him, Ian had lived the life of a complete wastrel.
It wouldn't be surprising if someone with a grudge had sent killers after him.
"Do you know the reason?"
"I don't, but the Duke of Nordelheim seemed to care about you. Probably thanks to his support that Freya was able to gather those herbs when you were injured."
The duke had been watching out for me.
That was hard to take in a positive light when I still didn't know why he had thrown me to the front lines.
What kind of lunatic tosses someone to the vanguard after they saved his daughter?
I'd have to ask Freya about that.
Even if bringing up her late father felt a bit awkward.
She lowered her head slightly.
The light flowed softly along her hair cascading over her shoulder.
"Ian."
After a moment's hesitation, she called my name.
Her eyes conveyed more than words ever could.
"...You really didn't resent me at all?"
Her voice carried a desperate plea, mingled with lingering unease.
As if she wanted to believe it but couldn't quite bring herself to.
"I know there's no such thing as a perfect choice. And I know that more than anyone, you always pursued the best possible path."
There are no perfect choices.
To choose is to discard something else.
Choosing means abandoning possibilities.
Thus, no choice is ever perfect for a human.
Regret casts its shadow, and we chase the past, forever stepping on those shades.
No matter what I said, as long as she fixated on those shadows, some doubt would linger.
Words are always imperfect; they capture only a fraction of what I truly feel.
The intent behind them, the thoughts I hope to convey—they're all interpreted by the listener in their own way.
Still, I wanted my words to reach her properly.
I hoped what I said now would touch her heart.
All I wanted was for her to be happy.
"I didn't resent you because you were the kind of leader who pushed herself to the brink, bearing every failure in her heart while striving for the best."
Watching her torment herself to save others turned any resentment into pity.
Having witnessed her suffering up close, even hatred had no place left.
My feelings for her weren't hatred or resentment.
On the contrary, what I felt for her was—
"Thank you for saying that. But... I guess I still can't shake this anxiety."
She smiled, but it wasn't bright.
It was a fragile smile, laced with sorrow and relief.
She turned her head slightly and whispered softly.
"...Hey. If that's true, then why do you still call me 'Captain' instead of my name?"
Her question left me speechless for a moment.
I had pondered it myself once or twice.
She had saved me amid countless deaths and orders,
yet I had always called her "Captain."
Deep down, I might have still been drawing a line.
Admiration, respect, and unspoken emotions.
"Captain" was the label I used to hide them all.
But today, after exchanging swords and baring our hearts, I decided not to run anymore.
I slowly met her gaze and opened my mouth.
"Irena."
Her eyes trembled widely.
Those steadfast eyes, always unwavering, grew moist at that single word.
It was the first time I had called her by name.
It wasn't just a title—it was my will to close the distance between us.
"...Yeah. I like that."
Irena turned away, biting her lip lightly.
Then she looked back at me and said,
"I'm glad we cleared up the misunderstanding before I retire."
"So you really are retiring."
Irena nodded.
Her right arm, worsened since the Ereveon subjugation battle, combined with the dissolution of the Northern Frontline.
Those circumstances had led to her retirement.
They said the vice-captain was the likely successor.
It wasn't confirmed.
Rumor had it there would be some kind of selection tournament.
It hadn't appeared in the original story, so I couldn't be sure.
Maybe it was a new development from the twisted plotline.
"Have you thought about what you'll do after retiring?"
"...Well."
Irena tilted her head as if she hadn't given it much thought.
She glanced at me with a subtle roll of her eyes.
Irena was an exceptionally rare case.
An unmarried noblewoman, head of a viscount family, and a knight order captain to boot.
With such an extraordinary background, her future was understandably worrisome.
"What about you? What are your plans?"
Wipe out the Red Star, avert the South's downfall, then head east.
I had no reason or leisure to settle down anywhere.
The Empress seemed intent on using me as a sword, granting me a ducal position and territory, but I had no desire to be tied down.
Maybe after everything was over, but not now.
"I'm planning to head south sometime soon."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next day, early in the morning.
Mist enveloped the viscount's estate gardens on the outskirts.
The curtains by the window parted, and pale sunlight spilled across the parlor floor.
One of the viscount's servants approached cautiously and spoke.
"A decree from His Imperial Majesty has just arrived, complete with his seal and documents. An escort accompanied it..."
I closed the book and looked up.
"What's the name?"
"...She introduced herself as Astier. From the Imperial Intelligence Agency."
She's finally here.
Imperial Intelligence Agency.
Think of it like a modern spy organization, akin to America's CIA.
They carry out the Empress's direct orders while gathering intelligence.
Handling all sorts of dirty work, they hold many secrets.
Walter Gernhardt was the head of the agency.
"Bring her in."
Moments later, the door opened, and one person entered.
A young woman in a black longcoat.
Her brown hair neatly combed back, expressionless pale gray eyes.
Less like nobility, more like a witness fresh from a funeral.
She pulled out a single document and quietly handed it over.
"This is His Imperial Majesty's decree. I am Astier, from the Imperial Intelligence Agency's Fourth Division, Inspection Department."
The Empress's seal was stamped precisely on the paper.
A dispatch document for intelligence cooperation regarding the Red Star.
The term "escort inspector" caught my eye.
"Errand girl?"
Astier frowned ever so slightly at that.
She quickly schooled her expression and replied evenly.
Was there a hint of irritation in her voice, or was that my imagination?
"...Officially, I am your escort intelligence officer. On-site response authority remains with you, Your Grace."
Astier stood neatly beside the desk and added in a low voice.
"From today onward, your itinerary, contacts, and acquired intelligence will be reported daily to His Imperial Majesty."
She's being this blatant about it.
Is this the Empress's way, different from the original story?
Who knows.
Better than shadowy surveillance that gets exposed later.
That didn't change the fact that she was surveilling me while claiming otherwise.
"For example?"
"Currently, all peripheral tracking intel on the Red Star."
"Very well. Then I'll take it to mean you're my right hand starting today."
"If that's how you understand it."
She met my gaze without flinching.
There was a subtle resolve in her words.
The look of someone who took pride in her duty.
I wasn't great at reading people, but I could tell if someone looked like they'd kill me or not.
In that regard, Astier seemed—
Not bad.
I didn't get the sense she'd cut me down with some random blade.
Besides, even behind that emotionless face, someone who prioritized duty over loyalty was trustworthy.
"The intel?"
Astier handed me the report.
It detailed the Red Star's forces and scale.
"One week from now, at the auction house in the capital's northern district. A mid-level broker under our watch is consigning an item. He's linked to the Red Star's funding routes. We need to capture him alive."
I nodded.
I had already compiled notes on the Red Star.
Their connections, the nobles involved, their hideouts.
Even if the original story had twisted, plugging in old and new intel would make it straightforward.