Fabricated Debt (5)
Dusk was settling in.
Atop a hill beyond the city walls, a carriage appeared under the escort of mercenaries. Their eyes were cold and still as they scanned the surroundings, pressing forward in silence.
They did not get far before their path was blocked. Spears and shields locked into a wall across the road — Imperial soldiers.
The mercenaries jolted, sucking in sharp breaths of surprise.
"Halt. By His Imperial Majesty's decree, this area is under active military operation. Passage is forbidden."
"What?! But this is Viscount Perrington's land—"
"What did you just say?! Insolence! Every inch of Imperial soil belongs to His Majesty the Emperor! And you dare deny it?"
"H-hieek! Forgive us!"
The mercenaries floundered under the Imperial commander's bellow. Watching them dither, the commander flushed crimson, veins standing out on his neck as he drew his sword.
"Look at these suspicious bastards! Are you agents sent by the Coalition?!"
"What? N-no, that's not—?!"
"I clearly stated we are in the middle of training exercises, so why are you hesitating and panicking?! What are you waiting for? Seize them at once! Kill them if they resist!"
"W-wait! It's a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding, I swear— Aaaaagh!!"
The instant the order left the commander's mouth, the soldiers broke formation and surged forward, binding the mercenaries in a flash. The hired swords, suddenly branded as enemy agents with nowhere to turn, could only stammer and thrash in panic. The soldiers paid them no mind whatsoever, dragging their captives off toward some unknown destination.
"Heh heh. Well? Isn't it absolutely perfect, sir?"
Barton, crouched beside me in the underbrush as we watched the scene unfold, let out a greasy little laugh and bounced his shoulders.
"Every location we flagged as a possible hideout is locked down as a training zone. Those rats won't be able to get word to each other," he said.
"Right. And even if they somehow find out, they still won't be able to move the money to another cache. All that's left is for us to clean the places out at our leisure."
"Still, are you truly certain about this?"
"About what?"
"The ones guarding those hideouts won't be ordinary thugs, sir. Can you really handle them alone…?"
"That is none of your concern."
"Aigoo. You wound me, sir. If anything happens to you, Tax Collector, I won't see a single copper before I croak. How is that none of my concern?"
For all his fretting, Barton was rubbing his palms together with a sly little grin. I'd gone easy on him for a while, and now the man seemed to think we were friends. The sight of him was starting to grate, but his scheme had laid the board perfectly — so for this once, I let it slide.
"I'll be back shortly. When I give the signal, move according to plan."
"Mmm. And if you fail…"
"That won't happen."
"Ahem! Yes, well. Understood, sir. The moment you call, I'll come running."
Leaving Barton and his doubtful sideways glance behind me, I rose and headed for the first hideout.
I had not gone far before the scene ahead forced me to a stop.
What the hell is this…
The ground around the small cabin we had marked as a hideout was soaked in dark crimson blood.
Blood and scraps of flesh scattered everywhere — but no bodies? And not a single sign of life inside the cabin, either.
Someone had gotten here first, eliminated the guards, and even disposed of the corpses. But who?
Faced with an unexpected variable, I quickly examined the traces of the fight.
Clean work. Nearly every kill was a single stroke. The victims probably never even knew what hit them. Judging by the color of the blood, it hasn't been long…
Whoever it was had struck right before the Imperial Army locked the area down. The timing was far too precise to call coincidence. And the skill on display was flawless — the unmistakable mark of a professional. Familiar, even.
In the entire Empire, there was only one organization that fielded specialists trained to this level.
The Intelligence Bureau…
Marien's face flashed through my mind.
Are these people screwing with me?
What exactly were they trying to pull? If they were going to handle this themselves, why hand me the loan sharks' list and put on that whole performance in the first place?
Or maybe…
They got their hands on the operation plan.
Yes. No matter how I turned it over, that was the only answer that made sense. There was no other reason Marien and Elena would have teamed up, secured the Emperor's seal, and come looking for me.
So they just wanted to drop a spoon onto a table I'd already set?
Thanks to them, I hadn't had to lift a finger. And yet the feeling of being used left a thoroughly unpleasant taste in my mouth.
What a waste of energy.
It seemed I would need to teach a certain disrespectful junior what proper manners toward a senior actually looked like.
"We've checked every operational sector. Just as you said, sir — traces of combat, but no bodies. And the money stored inside the hideouts was left completely untouched."
The chests recovered from the hideouts were loaded onto wagons alongside the training supplies and sent toward the rally point. Major Powell, Cromwell's right-hand man, approached, saluted, and continued his report.
"Furthermore, once we deliberately spread word that the exercises had concluded as planned, we spotted unidentified groups slipping out of the capital in the dead of night. We're pursuing them in cooperation with the military knight orders. We should locate the remaining hideouts shortly."
"Well done."
"Not at all. You're the one who's been working late into the night, Tax Collector."
"I hardly did anything."
"I've always heard that a true commander is one who wins without fighting. Frankly, the fact that we took no casualties on an operation this dangerous is blessing enough."
"Is that so? Personally, I suspect the real work is only just beginning…"
Major Powell tilted his head at my pointed remark, clearly unable to make sense of it. I simply studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"I don't know about the rest, but you strike me as someone who'll make a fine commander."
"I'm overwhelmed by such undeserved praise. Thank you, sir."
"Take that Barton fellow with you as well. The man is a wizard with numbers — he'll be useful. Remember: every last account must be settled by this afternoon."
"Yes, sir. Understood. Aside from the agreed shares, the remaining funds will be delivered to the Ministry of Finance by this afternoon."
"Good. You've got to be exhausted — hang in there until the end."
The moment my conversation with Major Powell ended, Barton came scrambling over from behind us, wearing the happiest expression in the world.
"Keh heh. Tax Collector, sir! I, Barton, swear I'll pay every last tax on time and live a righteous life from now on! Thank you so very much! Heehee!"
Honestly. Was money really that wonderful?
Major Powell and I both snorted and shook our heads at the sight of him.
"Watch yourself. Keep your head down for a while."
"But of course, sir. You take care as well, Tax Collector! Keh heehee!"
"Tsk. Listen to that laugh…"
And so Barton departed with Major Powell. I let out a long breath and looked up at the brightening sky.
I couldn't quite shake the hollow feeling — or the nagging sense that something, somewhere, had gone sideways. That worried me more than anything.
Still, the operation had succeeded. All that remained was for the nobles who'd been cleaned out to start hounding Elena. As for me, I could sit back, enjoy the show, and collect my share of the rice cakes.
They'll sort it out themselves. Whatever…
Everything unfolded exactly according to the script.
A peaceful morning passed as though nothing at all had happened during the night. Then afternoon arrived, and a sum of money beyond imagination was delivered to the Ministry of Finance.
Chests packed with gold coins poured in without end, and the Finance Ministry, naturally, descended into chaos. In the end, every last clerk had to be called in for the accounting.
Of course, the money had already been fully tallied the moment the operation ended — but the Ministry staff had no way of knowing that. Overtime was a certainty.
Pitiful as it was, what could be done? When you're told to count, you count from the beginning.
Elena must have stepped out.
In the middle of everyone scrambling to count gold, Elena was nowhere to be seen. She had almost certainly bolted for the Imperial Palace to deliver the news.
Nobles who lost a fortune overnight will be waiting with blood in their eyes — and she walked straight into the tiger's den of her own free will.
Ah. Just imagining it was delicious. She was about to have her soul wrung dry, and she had no idea — skipping off to the palace in high spirits.
Serves her right.
With this, the nobles' tax evasion charges will simply vanish into thin air.
Cooking the books, fabricating debt — all of it had been pointless. I had flipped their entire board upside down.
The Emperor got the money he wanted without picking a fight with the nobility. A fortune had conveniently landed in the Ministry of Finance. And Elena would become the target of every noble whose vaults had just been emptied.
It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Sure enough, just as the workday was ending, Elena returned from the palace and burst through my office door, her face flushed and radiant.
I allowed a bright smile to settle on my lips.
"This time I truly can't let it go! This is a ministerial order! Tomorrow morning, Rohan, I'm putting up a statue of you in front of the Ministry of Finance!"
But what came out of Elena's mouth was nothing like what I had expected.
Huh? This… this wasn't right.