Chapter 53
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Imperial Inspection
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As a history buff, rubbing shoulders with a living history book was undoubtedly a pleasurable experience.
The one-and-only figure in this world's historical academia—not just number one. A being who had personally lived through 1,800 years.
Sharing breakfast every morning with someone who had witnessed the past I only knew from books.
But having that ancient monster—who mistakenly believed I harbored ambitions—observe me right up close was far from pleasant.
Of course, it wasn't entirely without its upsides.
"The Imperial Inspection Team has arrived."
I nodded at Werner's report.
"Tell Duke Sylvesta. Ask if he'd like to come out with us."
Werner's face stiffened.
"M-me?"
"Yeah. You."
"In person?"
"Should I send someone else?"
His lips twitched. He seemed at a loss for words.
An elf aged 1,800 years. Dean of the Imperial Academy. A man who had tutored emperors across generations.
To tell such a being, "The inspection team's here, so shall we go out together?"
One wrong word, and who knew what might happen.
But he couldn't refuse. It was the staff position he'd barely secured, after all.
"Understood."
A forced response. His back was rigid as he turned to leave.
From the window, I could see the inspection team's carriages. Flags bearing the imperial crest fluttered in the wind.
Five people. I counted those who had dismounted.
The apparent leader held a bundle of documents. His chin was tilted up arrogantly.
The door opened as Werner entered. Or rather, he was practically shoved inside.
His face was drained of color.
"H-he said he'd come."
His voice cracked.
Then Duke Sylvesta made his appearance.
Leisurely steps. Movements utterly devoid of haste.
The moment he entered the room, the air shifted.
Heavy, perhaps. Or denser, more like it.
Sir Heinrich straightened his posture. An unconscious motion.
A presence that tensed even a knight on the cusp of Swordmaster.
I felt a chill creep down my spine. I simply didn't let it show.
"Shall we accompany you for a stroll?"
Sylvesta smiled.
I smiled back. This was the exact picture I had wanted.
We headed to the entrance hall. Sylvesta stood at my side.
The door opened.
The inspection team leader unfurled his documents and spoke.
"You must be Young Lord Adrian? We are the Imperial Inspection Team. We have a few matters to verify regarding the treason charges—"
His words cut off.
The leader's gaze shifted to my side. Then it froze solid.
"I-is that Duke Sylvesta?"
"Yes. Sylvesta."
Duke Sylvesta nodded. That was all.
One word. Just one.
Yet the inspection team leader's attitude flipped 180 degrees.
His uptilted chin dropped. His stiff shoulders hunched. The documents in his hand folded slightly.
"W-well, this is just a formal verification procedure—"
The overbearing demeanor from moments ago had vanished.
Sylvesta said nothing. He merely stood there smiling.
Every time the leader lobbed a question, Sylvesta's gaze flicked subtly toward me. That alone made the entire team shrink back.
The tone of the questions changed. From "interrogation" to "verification." From "grilling" to "inquiry."
The Imperial Inspection Team. The quintessential pro-imperial faction.
And Duke Sylvesta was the epitome of a pro-imperial noble.
Unless that elf himself stepped up and declared something like, "This punk's face screams traitor," the very fact of him standing by my side was a message in itself.
Ah, Duke Sylvesta is backing the kid.
The kid's a loyal servant of the Empire, just like us.
They had no choice but to interpret it that way.
Time to drive the nail home.
Turn the inspection leader to my side. Or more precisely, bring in someone who had no choice but to become my ally.
"Lize. Prepare some tea."
"Yes."
Lize withdrew.
The inspection leader. Back in his academy days, he'd written a paper titled "Limitations of Punishments Against the Rebel Forces Twenty Years Ago and the Potential for Recurrence."
A direct critique claiming the punishments against the rebels, Mueller included, had been mere slaps on the wrist.
It had stirred quite the controversy at the time, or so I'd heard.
Such a man had joined the Imperial Inspection Team and been assigned as lead for this investigation.
No coincidence.
Fifty gold coins. Money slipped to the appointer's close aide.
I hadn't skimped on the preferences research either. I knew his favorite tea variety and had secured the finest grade alongside some Cheonghongcho.
Of course, complacency was out of the question. Sylvesta was watching every move from the sidelines. One slip, and I could come off as a "dangerous schemer adept at political intrigue."
But even factoring that in...
This was the best play right now.
Shortly after, Lize returned with a tray. The aroma wafting from the teacups permeated the reception room.
The leader's nose twitched.
"You must be working tirelessly day and night for the Empire. Our hardships pale in comparison."
I handed him a teacup.
"Even after being thoroughly crushed by my father in line with His Majesty's will over twenty years ago, there are still those in the south and north who haven't come to their senses. Truly disheartening work."
Mueller.
A common foe. A thorn in the Empire's side. The same for me.
Sylvesta's gaze flicked briefly my way. I feigned indifference.
The inspector took a sip. His eyes widened.
"This—"
"I hope it suits your taste."
I could see the tension melt from his shoulders.
"I've heard Young Lord takes after his father's valor and does much for the Empire. We're just here to verify. It's a mere formality, so no need to feel burdened."
Legitimacy.
They were the rebels.
Twenty years ago, when they drew swords over nitpicks about His Majesty's legitimacy, I hadn't even been born. And the one who crushed that rebellion was my father.
Pragmatism.
We had more than ample evidence proving they struck first.
Werner spread the bundle of documents across the table.
"First, the site."
The first document bore drawings.
Sketches of carriage wheel ruts and boot prints along the march path.
"It matches the 6th Legion supply unit's standard formation. Footprint spacing, wheel width, marching order—all accounted for. Preservation magic applied."
The leader looked up.
"Can we see it directly?"
"If you wish, I'll guide you there."
Viewing the well-preserved site, the inspector nodded.
There were testimonies as well.
'Soldiers with the 6th Legion flag passed through the village. Heading east, toward the 7th Legion garrison.'
'Woke to boot steps. Looked out the window—an endless procession.'
'Asked for water and gave it. Wouldn't say where they were headed.'
Twelve testimonies. All pointing the same way.
"Finally, I'd like to see the captured man."
"I'll guide you."
Underground prison.
The air grew damper with each step down the stairs.
We stopped before the iron bars.
Georg huddled in the corner. Once commander of over a thousand troops.
At the sound of the bars opening, he raised his head.
Our eyes met.
"Urk."
A groan leaked out. His body recoiled backward.
"Former Legion Commander Georg. We have some matters to verify."
The leader spoke. Georg made no reply. His gaze locked on me.
"Is this statement yours?"
The document was proffered.
Georg's hand shook. He couldn't take the paper.
Then footsteps sounded from behind me.
Lize stepped forward. Silver hair. Eyepatch. Expressionless.
"Aaahhh!"
A scream burst forth.
Georg slammed his back against the wall. Chains clanged loudly.
"That thing! That's a monster too! The one commanding that monster! An even worse monster! Please, get them away, please!"
The leader's face was set in stone.
The scribe clutched his pen, at a loss for what to note.
I shrugged.
"As you see, he's gone a bit mad. Probably because I'm so young, the shock of losing to me hit hard. He was terrified of my personal maid too."
Laughter bubbled up.
Not deliberate.
It was just that funny.
The leader cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I understand. Losing over a thousand men overnight and ending up a prisoner. No wonder he's snapped. And Count Mueller doesn't seem eager to rescue him."
The scribe jotted something down.
The bars closed.
We climbed the stairs. The underground dampness soaked into our clothes.
"You said Count Mueller isn't putting much effort into rescuing his son?"
The leader nodded.
"More like he's busy quelling the major rumors erupting in the capital. Rumors that Mueller's plotting another rebellion."
"I see."
"And ensuring no harm comes to his maternal grandson—er, your brother's—wedding."
His words trailed off. A cough followed.
He figured it'd displease me.
My brother's wedding. Cementing the succession. The bastard pushed aside.
But I didn't care one bit.
I flashed my sincerest grin.
"Yes, he should prepare the wedding properly."
Tension drained from the leader's shoulders.
He nodded as we walked the corridor.
The reception room door opened.
Sylvesta stood by the window. He didn't shift even as we entered.
We took our seats. Lize brought fresh teacups.
The scribe approached the leader and whispered something.
The leader's eyebrow twitched faintly.
"Ah, by the way. There's one thing I'd like to ask you, Young Lord."
The leader spoke up.
"What is it?"
"Recently... well, say the last half year or so. Have you seen a silver-haired girl around your age?"
A silver-haired girl around my age.
Reflexively, I glanced at Lize.