Those Who Did Wrong Must Pay
Those who did wrong had to pay for it.
The Emperor is… terminally ill?
Annette's eyes wavered hopelessly. This was the first she had ever heard of it. A fragment of the Evil God, and a time limit on his life, no less. If you were going to say something like that, you could have given me a hint! she screamed inwardly.
And yet, all things considered, she decided it was better this way. Had she known in advance, there was no telling what her face would have done. Being thrown into it cold like this, paradoxically, made it easier to handle. All I have to do is look natural. Just follow Caric's lead!
Even as she reeled inside, Annette managed on the surface to pull off a perfectly dignified princess. The air in the audience chamber, however, had turned considerably frostier in the meantime.
All warmth had drained from the Emperor's expression. The temperature swing from the half-pretend-sage act of moments ago was staggering. This was the genuine pressure of a politician who had ruled an empire for decades. Anyone faint of heart would have trembled at the mere sight of that tiger's face.
But Caric simply broke into an easy grin.
"There it is. I like that face better. I can feel the fighting spirit."
"You have crossed every conceivable line, barbarian."
At some point, his address had been demoted from "you" all the way down to "barbarian." The Emperor's voice was low and cold.
"You believe you hold a weakness of mine. How arrogant." He let his killing intent spill out. "Show me your hand. If it's worthless, I'll kill you."
"Ah, so you're finally ready to have an actual conversation. And I showed my hand already, didn't I? With the crystal ball."
At Caric's glance, Annette stepped forward, her shoulders still hunched against the Emperor's menace. Yet even now, a question lingered in some corner of her mind. Is there really a fragment of the Evil God inside Father?
Caric had said it reeked, but honestly, she couldn't sense a thing. Which was exactly why the Emperor's secret had gone undetected for so long.
"Ordinary mana senses won't do. Use Radiance to sharpen your eyes."
The moment she followed his instruction—
Good heavens.
Annette barely choked back a scream. Something horrific was inside the Emperor's body. Just looking at it made her mind feel like it was twisting out of shape.
"Annette, do you see it?"
"…Yes, I see it. What is this…?"
In place of the silent Emperor, Caric answered. "A fragment of the Evil God."
"Father…"
Annette's eyes trembled. So the Emperor really was living on borrowed time. Cruel as he was for abandoning her all these years, a father was still a father. But she bit her lip and steadied herself. Hadn't she resolved already? That she would never again live tossed about by others? What was needed now was not a weeping daughter, but a princess proving her worth.
Besides, Radiance itself was surging, as if demanding that she burn away that ominous aura at once.
"Please, leave it to me."
Annette stepped forward and extended her hand. Radiance blossomed—powerful beyond any comparison with the time she had aided the troop captain, a brilliance so intense that merely beholding it threatened to blind.
FAAAAAH!
Bathed in Radiance, the Emperor shuddered. This is… It felt like being reborn. The aches in his knees and back vanished. The shallow breathing of advancing years turned deep and clear. Even the blood coursing through his veins seemed to run hot again. And above all, the lingering aftereffect of swallowing the Evil God's fragment—the chronic headaches and faint hallucinations that had always plagued him—was gone entirely.
The Emperor stared at Annette in disbelief, clenching and unclenching his fist several times over. The suffering of years had vanished as if it had all been a lie.
At this level… refusing his next proposal would be rather difficult. Caric had had his reasons for showing his cards first.
I'll admit it, barbarian. Whatever you are on the surface—right now, I'm the one who needs to ask for cooperation.
The Emperor was no third-rate fool who fumbled his reading of a situation over shallow pride and vanity. His decision was swift and resolute. He withdrew the killing intent he'd been venting like a wounded beast, and revealed neither a clinging, greedy hunger nor any maudlin sentimentality. He simply acknowledged his own misjudgment, cleanly and without ornament.
"…Impressive," the Emperor murmured. "The answer that could not be found by searching the entire continent was right beside me all along. I underestimated you."
Annette found that plain, unadorned admission oddly endearing. "Oh, I only did what needed doing," she said, meeting the Emperor's gaze with her head held high.
"What needed doing, indeed."
The Emperor smiled, satisfied by the answer, and continued. "Now then—what do you desire as your reward?"
At that, Caric cut in. "Before that, let's be clear about something. The effects of Radiance are temporary."
Unless she reached full investment, full awakening, Radiance in the endgame—but that went without saying.
"You'll need to receive treatment from Annette regularly. That will erase the pain and even buy you a bit more life."
"You seem to know the Evil God's fragment better than I do," the Emperor said, sounding rather suspicious.
"I'm from the Demon Region."
Of course, Caric performed a perfect evasion maneuver with a vague, suggestive remark sourced straight from his notes on the original novel.
"Anyway, what we want is simple. You want the treatments to keep coming, don't you? Then lay down a legitimate board for us to operate on."
"A legitimate board?"
"We need justification. A mandate to go around smashing our enemies' skulls."
"You're asking for a license to murder? The Empire has no such thing."
"I've heard there's a position called Special Inspector. Give it to Annette."
"That post is a hollow title. It exists to catch cultists and traitors."
"Which makes it perfect. You saw it yourself, didn't you? My nose is rather good." Caric turned to Annette. "And we've got a Radiance user on top of that."
"What exactly do you intend to do with the position?"
"Traitors first, obviously. Have you forgotten? Princess Annette was nearly assassinated. That is clear treason."
"The First Prince will cut off the tail."
"Did I ever say the culprit was the First Prince?"
The Emperor snorted. "We all know it is."
"See, now this is finally refreshing to hear. But it doesn't matter if he cuts the tail off."
Caric bared his teeth in a savage grin.
"Smash the tail, smash the tail, smash the tail—and eventually, you reach the head."
"Is that your way of doing things?"
"It is. So stop scrounging around for the hopeless ones and start backing our princess here. She's got it all. Radiance. A clever barbarian ally. And a cute face."
"Take those away and she has nothing. The throne is not a place reached by possessing a few peculiar talents."
"Then just hand over the authority for now and watch. Watch what we do. And match our rhythm."
Appallingly insolent things to say to an Emperor. But rather than taking offense, the Emperor weighed loss and gain.
Observe and judge, he says. From my position, there's nothing to lose. Above all, an attitude of "just try trusting us" beat the fawning flattery of the incompetent by miles.
"Insolent. Very well—I will prepare the stage. Let's see you do it your way. I will watch with pleasure."
"The stage?"
"There is a ministers' council tomorrow morning. The findings of the investigation into Annette's accidental death are to be announced, and a bill concerning her funeral is on the agenda."
At those words, Caric and Annette exchanged a look. Annette gave a small nod, then addressed the Emperor. "It's the perfect moment to announce my return."
"I will have you summoned before the chamber as the council gets underway. When I give the signal, enter."
"Understood."
"Now then, take your leave."
The Emperor said, sounding somewhat weary. "As for lodging—use the private inner chamber attached to my library. No one may see you until tomorrow."
And so their first face-to-face meeting with the Emperor concluded. The result? Entirely satisfactory. If they overturned tomorrow's council as planned, the Emperor's support would only grow more certain. And the reward for saving Annette remained unclaimed, too.
I'll have to collect an axe later—one of the really sharp ones. Preferably one that'll last me a while this time.
Time in the Emperor's library inner chamber passed quickly, filled with a post-Emperor debrief and assorted horsing around.
It began the moment the inner chamber's door closed and Annette, exhaling the breath she'd been holding in, burst out with: "Caric! I thought my heart was going to drop out of me!"
"About what?"
"His Majesty is terminally ill! You could have warned me!"
"But you handled it, didn't you? I believed in you."
His attitude was irritatingly relaxed. Looking at that utterly untroubled face, Annette felt almost aggrieved at how tense she'd been. But she didn't want to drag around that complicated, heavy feeling either. Still—annoying was annoying.
"I behweved in woo," she said, forcing an imitation of Caric's low voice. But she was still a long way off from getting under Caric's skin.
"Hahaha! What was that? Absolutely idiotic! Do it again!"
"…"
"I said do it again!"
"No."
Being so gleefully treated like a fool, Annette sulked in earnest. "Say you're sorry to me."
"I'm sorry to me."
"Not like that!"
"Enough of that. Aren't you hungry? Let's eat something."
"You go ahead and eat plenty, Caric."
"Really? Then I'm genuinely confident I'll polish off the whole thing myself."
"This is when you're supposed to offer a second time. It's manners."
"Hmm. Civilized people live such tiresome lives. I'm a barbarian, so I don't know about any of that."
"You're only a barbarian when it suits you?"
"What's that supposed to mean? I've been saying I'm a barbarian all along."
Annette really was a child who was a delight to tease.
Otherwise, they ordered room service from the imperial guards posted outside the door.
"Whoa. So this is what they look like."
"Ah, Caric. This, you see, is called a macaron. Your first time seeing one, yes?"
"Even the packaging is practically modern. Five to a box, is it?"
"Are you even listening to me? I was going to teach you the proper way to enjoy—huh?!"
Caric flipped open the lid of a macaron box and dumped the entire thing into his mouth. A riot of rainbow-colored sweetness flooded his tongue.
"Huhhhh?! Caric!"
"Delicious. So—what were you saying? How to eat it?"
"How does a person eat an entire box of macarons in one go?!"
After a few more rounds of that, Annette truly sulked—sulked enough to turn her back to him in bed at night. Caric, bedding down on the floor, didn't much care.
Late at night, a long silence flowed through the darkness—long enough to look back on everything that had happened that day. Annoying was annoying, and grateful was grateful.
"Caric."
Just before sleep took her, Annette spoke, wrapped in the fur pelt Caric had handed her in place of a blanket.
"Thank you."
Instead of answering, Caric quietly fell asleep.
The next morning, the two of them finished their simple preparations for the council chamber.
"I will go as I am," Annette told the knight who had brought her a dress. She intended to walk in wearing the fur garment from the Demon Region, its bloodstains still vivid. The imperial guard fell silent for a moment, then bowed his head without objection. "As you wish, Your Highness."
If he hadn't witnessed Radiance before, there's no way he'd have let that slide.
However it went, the knight returned shortly after, right on schedule. "I will now escort you to the council chamber."
This time, they made no effort to take remote back routes. Quite the opposite—they crossed the Imperial Palace in broad, conspicuous view, heading straight for the chamber. The council had already begun; there was no longer any need to skulk about.
"Is… is that Her Highness the Seventh Princess? She's alive?"
A princess believed dead, and a barbarian of frankly unreal proportions—that combination drew no small amount of attention. Everyone they passed stopped at least once to stare.
Having a royal guard with them, at least, keeps things from getting openly rude. Caric studied the reactions of the palace staff with careful eyes. And yet they still plainly look down on her. It's obvious.
It was an attitude that laid Annette's current standing painfully bare: they would respect "the Princess," but couldn't care less about "Annette." There was a reason her faction had been literally zero in the original story.
"Wait here until His Majesty gives the signal," the royal guard said when they reached the chamber doors.
Standing before that massive, dignified wooden door, they could faintly hear the voices within—and the words were a cruel reminder of Annette's reality.
"The eighth agenda item."
The eighth. That was precisely the rank the matter about to be discussed held inside this chamber—far below the flood of more important, more urgent business. A trivial accident that had briefly been the talk of high society, long since wilted into irrelevance. A tragedy, yes, but one carrying no political weight whatsoever: the investigation report and posthumous arrangements for the disappearance and presumed death of Annette de Belgarde.
"I shall now present the findings of the joint examination conducted with the Magic Tower."
The announcement was brief and perfunctory to the extreme, drowning in jargon as if someone were simply reading the Magic Tower's report aloud. Even the conclusion was utterly half-hearted.
"…In summary, it is clear that the incident in question was an accident—a compound of numerous small coincidences and human error on the part of the escort detail."
Not a single sigh of mourning rose from the chamber at those words. Instead, the silence was broken by one man's calm, mellifluous voice.
"A truly heartbreaking matter."
At Caric's glance, Annette gave a confirming nod. It was the First Prince.
"A child who kept to the palace's outskirts, and yet for the blood of the imperial house to be lost so meaninglessly."
Restrained, dignified grief—flawlessly performed. "So that we may honor her spirit and preserve her memory, I propose we convert the palace where she resided—it stood in the outer district, I believe—into a free clinic. I believe this would be a fitting course of action."
He'd even banked the credit for himself. Perfect. The gist being: I'll pay for it myself, connect with the Empire's subjects, and so on and so forth. It would have been flawless, if only it weren't the palace of the very girl he'd killed. The man's nerve was truly astonishing.
Annette looked at Caric with burning eyes. She seemed to be asking for something. That she could not bear to listen to that loathsome voice a second longer.
Caric nodded. The Emperor's signal? What's there to wait for? Honestly, this is perfect timing.
He lifted his foot.
"Furthermore, those responsible must be punished without fail, and institutional reforms pursued to prevent any recurrence. This is—"
BOOOOM!
The massive council chamber doors burst open as if they'd been ripped off their hinges. The ministers shrieked and recoiled in shock. Beyond the open doors stood a two-meter wall of barbarian muscle—golden hair and blue eyes befitting a northerner, a man radiating an overwhelming presence where majesty and menace mingled. A figure one could have modeled a warrior-god statue on, straight from the source. The ministers nearest the doors found themselves shuffling backward without quite realizing it.
"I agree as well."
A voice that smelled of blood rolled across the chamber.
"Those who did wrong must pay for it."
Caric's murderous glare swung toward the First Prince. But instead of advancing further, he slowly stepped aside, clearing the way. And with every eye in the room naturally drawn to him as her backdrop—
Annette walked, unhurried and upright, straight into the council chamber.