Fabricated Debt (4)
"You've lost it. You've completely lost your damn mind."
Brigadier General Cromwell, whom I hadn't seen in quite some time, clicked his tongue after hearing the entire story from me.
"If this goes sideways, it won't just be your neck on the line. Mine's going with it."
"Then why don't we take the opportunity and enjoy retirement together?"
"You joking? You think I busted my ass on the Northern Front for—"
"Probably to help me out now?"
"Goddamn it. I'm going to lose my mind."
When I brazened it out with a face of pure shameless iron, Cromwell shook his head in disgust and spat out a string of curses.
To be fair, looking at it objectively, it was an unreasonable ask. Strictly speaking, this was using the military for a private operation. And if things went wrong, it wouldn't just be Cromwell—every subordinate commander under him would lose their heads right alongside him. So of course he had every reason to refuse.
But would I have come looking for him without already knowing he'd say no?
"I hear everywhere else is dying under financial strain these days. Some places are even borrowing from certain merchant houses. How's the Imperial Army holding up? You doing all right?"
"Why are you suddenly asking about—"
"Just wondering if the money I arranged last time helped ease things a bit."
"W-well. Yeah. We managed to put out the immediate fires."
"Immediate fires, huh. The military really does burn through more cash than anywhere else."
"Ahem! Not going to deny that."
Cromwell tried to play it cool, but he looked more than a little rattled. I let a thin smile curl across my face and cast the bait.
"According to Barton, the money those loan sharks have stashed away is beyond imagination—absolutely staggering…"
"I'd imagine so."
"And piled on top of that is a mountain of cash belonging to the nobles tangled up with them."
"Get to the point."
"It was hidden specifically for tax evasion. Meaning, on the books, that money doesn't exist."
"So officially, it's ownerless funds?"
"Exactly. Even if something goes wrong, do you really think the loan sharks and nobles are going to raise a fuss? That would be the same as confessing they committed tax fraud."
Cromwell's eyes flashed. Sensing my moment, I played the decisive card.
"Barton gets ten percent as his cut for cooperating with me. But for you and your men, I'm carving off a special twenty percent."
"Twenty percent…"
"Right. You've got a lot more mouths to feed, after all. And whatever's left will go into the national treasury under the name of anonymous donations."
"You don't know exactly how much they've hidden?"
"No idea. But if Barton's willing to risk his neck over it, that tells you everything."
"Hrmmm."
"How much you and your men walk away with depends on how cleanly your subordinates handle the job. The more hideouts you hit, the more you take home."
Cromwell wasn't a man blinded by money. If anything, he had always valued honor and loyalty above coin. But the subordinates he had to look after were a different story. Officers might manage, but for the rank-and-file soldiers, putting food on the table came first. In the end, ironically enough, unit morale was decided by money. And with the financial situation already so poor that he couldn't properly take care of his men, managing the unit as its commander couldn't have been easy.
Sure enough, Cromwell mulled it over for a moment, then nodded.
"Haa. It's too much money to turn down. Fine. You've got my cooperation."
He mapped out this entire structure in less than a day. That's Senior for you. Senior is just too amazing!
Marien trembled from head to toe as she went through the documents she'd lifted from Rohan's office one by one.
Looks, skill, and brains on top of it all. There wasn't a single thing about him that wasn't perfect.
Suddenly, the memory of the day he'd come to save her rose up again—like a prince on a white horse riding to the rescue of a princess in peril. Alone, he had cut down countless Union agents, then strode into the safe house and held out his hand to her. That magnificent figure. Just imagining it sent a thrill racing through her entire body.
Thank you. And I love you, Senior.
Marien exhaled hot, ragged breaths and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks.
There was no way an agent of Senior's caliber would have carelessly left materials this important lying around his office. He must have known she would come looking again and prepared them in advance. Out of consideration, worried she might feel burdened, he'd tossed them out with that casual "take them if you want" attitude. Thanks to that, she'd learned new information—and pieced together the full truth of the case.
Ah. I love you. I love you, Senior Rohan.
Marien confessed her love endlessly inside her head, clamping a hand over her mouth against the swell in her chest and making choked little sounds.
But only for a moment. The instant that aide—Rhea—floated naturally into her mind, she began to shake with rage.
Who the hell is that stupid-looking woman?! What gives her the right to be Senior's aide? The seat beside Senior is mine!
She had no idea where that woman had crawled out of. At a glance, she was inferior to Marien in every single way—so how was she Senior's aide? In looks, in skill, Marien was more perfect in every respect.
The heart that had been overflowing with love and happiness only moments before began to boil over with jealousy and fury.
But that, too, lasted only a moment.
"Lady Marien. We've just received a suspicious report."
One of her direct subordinates entered the safe house where she was staying, dropped to one knee, and delivered an unexpected briefing.
"The Imperial Army unit under Brigadier General Cromwell is scheduled to begin large-scale training tomorrow night."
"Brigadier General Cromwell?"
"Yes. He just requested training authorization from the Imperial Palace—combat readiness drills under the assumption that enemies have infiltrated the capital, conducted under conditions identical to actual combat."
"The war's already over. Why run a drill like that now? I heard even the Imperial Army has been holding back on large-scale exercises because of the financial situation."
"There are already concerns and rumors that he might be preparing a rebellion."
"Impossible. Cromwell is a hero of the Northern Front whose promotions are guaranteed just by sitting still. Everyone knows his loyalty and sense of honor. Besides, he's getting married soon—what could he possibly gain from pulling something that insane?"
As Marien tilted her head and furrowed her brow, the subordinate reporting to her pulled a document labeled Operations Plan from his coat and handed it over.
"This is the operations plan Brigadier General Cromwell drafted and submitted himself. Please review it."
The contents were extremely simple and clear. Assuming agents of the Union or similar elements had infiltrated the capital, the plan called for sealing off the routes they would use for infiltration and escape, then conducting search operations.
Even under close scrutiny, nothing about it looked particularly strange.
"Hmm. He's leaving most of the checkpoint, search, and elimination procedures near the Imperial Palace to the Guard and the Imperial Knights. If this were a rebellion, he would never structure it this way."
"Even so, as a precaution against unforeseen circumstances, the Director has ordered every agent in the capital onto emergency standby."
"Meaning…"
"Yes. Combat readiness has been declared for us as well."
"What a nuisance."
Marien looked out the window and let out a sigh. Emergency standby out of nowhere—hardly something to celebrate.
And then, suddenly, a strange sense of dissonance wrapped around her body.
Come to think of it, isn't Senior quite close with Brigadier General Cromwell? Last time, when Senior blew up that Barton fellow's mansion, I'm pretty sure he had Cromwell's help.
Of all times—right when Senior was targeting the loan sharks' hideouts—Cromwell just happened to launch a combat readiness drill he never usually ran?
Don't tell me…!
A jolt of realization hit her. Marien hurriedly reexamined the operations plan her subordinate had handed over. Sure enough, every location where Cromwell intended to deploy troops was a sparsely populated area. Some of them made her wonder why anyone would station forces there at all.
"How many people know about this operation?"
"As I mentioned, on the grounds that it's being run as a live-fire equivalent exercise, only a handful of ministerial-level personnel are aware. The intent is to test the response capabilities of subordinate commanders and soldiers in the event of an actual incident."
"So most of the nobility has no idea?"
"Correct. Brigadier General Cromwell designated the drill as top-secret under his own authority, and His Majesty has already granted his approval…"
Ah. So that was it.
All of this had been Senior's plan.
The moment her subordinate finished speaking, a rush of pure exhilaration surged through Marien so hard her legs gave out and she sank to the floor.
"Are you all right?"
"W-we can't let this opportunity Senior created for us slip away…"
"Ma'am?!"
"Go to the Director right now and tell him. I've figured out the true purpose of this drill—send every agent in the capital to me."
Marien's order was so absolute, so brimming with certainty, that her subordinate hesitated only a moment before bowing his head.
Once he had left to assemble the agents, Marien—alone now—drew a dagger from her coat and let a thin, wicked smile play across her lips.
"Senior… if you go this far for me, I really won't be able to hold back anymore…"