Where Do You Keep Trying to Go?
Coyle pleaded that if he was going to atone for his mistakes and repay our forgiveness, he absolutely needed his lower half intact. Fine. I decided to let him off the crushing.
Is this how my father and his retainers used to feel whenever I caused trouble? Looks like I've finally grown up — a little late, considering my age, but still. I'd been startled at first, yet the more I thought about it, the less of a problem it seemed.
"If Coyle's telling the truth, the current Duke Jericho has zero interest in his stepmother, and as for James Rector, the Chancellor's favorite disciple — well, he'd be too embarrassed to go around blabbing about it."
Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. If the Former Duchess Jericho weren't a widow, we'd have a real problem on our hands — but she'd lost her husband a long time ago, so there was nothing to catch us on, legally or morally.
Once I reached that conclusion, my subordinates looked relieved. Haria, however, still sounded worried.
"What if Duke Jericho uses this as an excuse to approach you, Captain?"
"Just ignore him."
Even if he tried to make an issue of it, the most he could do was scold me for not managing my people properly. Two unmarried adults hitting it off wasn't exactly a scandal, and if he really wanted to drag it out, a simple apology would settle the matter.
In other words, there was nothing to worry about. I was in the middle of explaining as much to Haria when a thought suddenly occurred to me.
"Hmm. Come to think of it, this might actually make decent bait."
"Bait?"
I shifted my gaze from my puzzled subordinates to Coyle, who until moments ago had been in danger of having his lower half crushed.
"Coyle."
"Yes, sir."
"Starting tomorrow, I want you hitting on every married woman you can find. If her husband's a noble, make it a marquis at minimum. If he's a government official, chancellor or secretary rank."
"...Are you actually trying to get me killed?"
The only people who knew the Hounds' existence, membership, and capabilities in any real detail were the Empire's highest ministers and nobles. There might be a few others who weren't nobles or imperial officials, but we could look into that after we'd confirmed there weren't any traitors on the inside.
Starting tomorrow, though, the Hounds would become Marianne's Direct Escort Guard. Even setting my own existence aside, they'd be far harder to touch than before.
"Laying a hand on the Empress's personal guard is an attack on the Empress herself. In other words, treason. They won't be able to whistle you up like actual dogs the way they used to."
So if there was a traitor among us, they'd naturally know Coyle's identity — but that same Coyle had now, gloriously, become a member of the Empress's Direct Escort Guard. Meaning they couldn't just bring a gang and jump him the way they had today.
"So if they want you dead, they'll have to use outside forces, not imperial ones. We catch those guys, make them talk, and we're done."
"Never mind that my life gets extremely precarious — do you really think it'll go that smoothly?"
"Of course not."
Even I had to admit it. Think about it seriously and this was a half-baked plan — who would be stupid enough to take such obvious bait?
"If it works, great. If it doesn't, oh well."
"You're telling me to risk my life for a plan that's just oh well?!"
"Think of it as karmic payback for all the married women you've been messing with."
That's what I said, but I wasn't actually making him settle some cosmic score. If there were a traitor on the inside, the Imperial Intelligence Bureau — currently chasing the mastermind behind the last incident — should have picked up some kind of scent by now. They hadn't produced a single result.
Even with independent operational authority, we couldn't just turn over the Empire's highest nobles and ministers without a shred of evidence. We had no leads, but we couldn't sit on our hands either. The only option was to poke every hornet's nest we could find.
"Ugh. If I die, I'm coming back as a ghost to haunt you."
"Male ghosts are declined. I'll bury you somewhere sunny, so don't come back."
I said it like a joke, but Coyle understood exactly why I was giving the order. That's why he'd do as he was told.
After helping the rest of my subordinates finish packing, I checked the time. Marianne had told me to come back once she was done wrapping things up. Time to head back.
"I'll go on ahead to the Imperial Palace. When the wagon arrives, take it and follow."
I heard their acknowledgments, then opened the door and left for the palace.
Someone followed Isaac out the door in a hurry. Hearing the footsteps, he turned, and Haria asked her captain:
"Why are you leaving first? We could go together."
She tried her best to keep her composure, but even with all her Sika Clan training, she couldn't hide her dissatisfaction. Her discontent had surely come through loud and clear. Even so, Isaac answered in his usual tone.
"Marianne told me to come back as soon as she finished wrapping up."
"...Her Majesty?"
Isaac's words sent a chain wrapping around Haria's heart and pulling tight. But even as her chest seized so hard she could barely breathe, her reason went terrifyingly cold.
The pain came from Isaac answering another woman's summons and leaving her behind. The ice in her reason was directed at an Empress who had changed so completely from before.
Perhaps that was why, unlike a moment ago, Haria was able to keep asking questions with her emotions perfectly concealed.
"Has something changed with Her Majesty, by any chance?"
"Changed? Well, she's a lot gentler than she was at the start."
Haria knew it was far more than just "gentler," but she didn't bother telling Isaac. If she did, her captain would only pay the Empress even more attention.
"What's wrong, Haria? Something going on?"
Meeting Isaac's eyes — which had begun to fill with a hint of concern — Haria was grateful, at least, that her reason remained cold. Otherwise she surely wouldn't have been able to resist the violent urge to draw a dagger, sever the tendons in his hands and feet, and drag him back to the captain's office.
It was an extremely appealing fantasy, but Haria knew perfectly well her skills weren't remotely up to the task. She offered a small smile.
"No. Nothing in particular."
"Yeah? Then I'll be going. See you tomorrow."
Isaac turned with a casual wave. The impulse surged in Haria again, but she bit her lip until it bled and barely managed to hold herself in check. The moment his back disappeared from view, she let out a breath like a dam bursting.
"Haa... I made a mistake."
She'd hidden her relationship with Isaac because she didn't want to pique the Empress's curiosity. Haria now concluded that had been a mistake. Whether she'd been aware of it herself or not, the Empress had been growing curious about Isaac from the start. So Haria had withheld as much information about him as she could, waiting for that curiosity to die out. She'd never imagined the Empress would come looking for him first.
Of all people. That Empress.
From what she'd heard, her captain had stood against a Hero-Class powerhouse and saved the Empress. Haria had been through something similar herself, but even so, she never expected the Empress to change like this.
No. In the end, it was all just an excuse.
"It's not that I couldn't, or that I didn't know. I just didn't want to know."
Because she knew that if the Empress wanted Isaac, her captain would choose the Empress over her. Without question.
Isaac was free to do as he pleased only because the Empress hadn't accepted him as a real husband. They'd both treated the marriage as a legal formality and nothing more, and the Empress had told Isaac he could do as he liked — so he actually could. Even if Isaac had wanted the Empress, if she'd refused him, he would have accepted it without a fuss. The reverse, however, was a different story.
If the Empress wanted something, Isaac would always comply. At first Haria hadn't been able to understand that about him. Now she felt it with absolute certainty.
"It's not because she's more precious than I am. It's not because she's more lovable. He does it because that's what he has to do."
If she hadn't heard from Isaac, once, the reason he had to return to the Mayer Kingdom every year — and the story behind it — Haria still wouldn't have been able to understand him. She was genuinely glad she'd heard that story. Without it, she might have been hating him with everything she had by now.
She had no need for a concubine's seat. Sharing him nicely with someone else was out of the question from the start.
Her captain belonged to her, and her alone.
"You're late."
"I'll have you know I hurried pretty hard to get here."
The moment I set foot in the Imperial Palace, the chief steward and attendants waiting at the entrance escorted me to Marianne's office. "Escorted" was a generous word. Their demeanor was closer to heretical priests offering a sacrifice at an altar — especially the way they shoved me into the office and wiped the sweat from their brows like they could finally breathe again. That left an impression.
I spoke to Marianne, who was still fuming about how late I was.
"I need it for hunting down the traitor. I need information on the nobles and the high ministers."
"The Hounds already have that."
"It's all outdated. More importantly, there's no way the Hounds were getting their clients' sensitive information before I became captain."
Even if they were hiring us to bury their dirty laundry, they wouldn't have been happy about the details getting out. Marianne, though — she'd have all their weaknesses neatly organized and filed away.
"Here."
At my words, Marianne inserted a key somewhere beneath her office desk drawer and pulled out an enormous stack of documents, which she handed to me.
"Thanks. Then I'll just—"
"You just got here and you're already trying to leave? You were so late I haven't even eaten yet."
Marianne's words sent my memory into another spiral of confusion. Had we ever eaten together? No matter how hard I thought, I couldn't recall a single time.
"For escort purposes, we'll always be eating together from now on."
As if answering the question in my head, Marianne said this, then tidied her desk as if her work was done and stood. I went with her to the dining hall, where warm, delicious-looking food was already laid out on the table. The only way this speed made sense was if they'd started cooking the instant they saw me heading for the palace.
"Is there anything you don't like?"
"No. Let's eat."
It was the first time I'd ever shared a meal with my legal wife, but nothing particularly special happened. We just made small talk and enjoyed the food, ordinary as could be. And of course, that kind of ordinary was the best. I'd been thinking about grabbing dinner with my subordinates at headquarters. That would've been a disaster.
After a pleasant dinner, dessert, and tea, I tried to leave again. This time Marianne looked even angrier than before.
"Uh, no. I just wanted to organize some of these documents..."
"That's something you can do right here beside me."
She had a point. It wasn't work that required going anywhere in particular.
So I sat in the dining hall with Marianne, who was still enjoying her tea, and started cross-referencing the materials she'd given me. Of course, nothing resembling evidence of treason turned up. If it had, Marianne would have noticed long ago. Still, watching the outdated information get updated felt pretty good.
I was deep in the work when I suddenly felt a gaze. I turned my head and met Marianne's eyes — she was staring right at me.
"...What?"
"Don't mind me."
Don't mind her, she says — while drinking tea and picking up cookies without moving her neck or head so much as an inch, staring a hole straight through me.
"Got it."
So I didn't mind her, and kept working.
Crunch. Crunch.
"..."
Could she at least move while she eats?