The Power of Confession

The Confession forced every crime that violated this world's laws to spill from the guilty lips of its speaker.

Because of that, Duke Alteir and the nobles gathered here began disgorging every offense they had committed over the course of their lives—before they even breathed a word about the charge of treason itself. If each of those crimes were investigated one by one, the cross-verification of this ability would be completely settled as well. Duke Alteir's case in particular posed no difficulty at all; the corruption from his days as Magic Tower Master was pouring out of him like an overflowing stream.

Alteir threw both hands over his mouth, trying to stop the lips that moved against his own will, but Father was not about to tolerate that. The only ones here not babbling like a market crowd were, solely, the Neutral Faction. By this point, they must have noticed that I had extended my consideration to them alone.

And then... before long, the confession Father and I had been waiting for came bursting out of Duke Alteir's mouth.

"The thought of a prince born of a rootless, lowborn commoner ascending the throne—that was something I could not accept, nor could I accept having to serve him as my future liege. Since Cestia was likely to miscarry midway through her term regardless, I persuaded my daughter to devise a certain plan, and through it, I saw to it that the Imperial Consort's execution succeeded."

"No!"

"What is he doing right now?!"

The nobles entangled tightly with Duke Alteir rose from their seats, faces stricken with disbelief. But those mouths had been forced shut as well—they, too, were busily pouring out the list of their own crimes.

"...After the Imperial Consort's execution, I continuously submitted petitions alongside Marquis Alvito, Count Demer, Count Viol, and Count Sertina—nobles who had gathered their resolve with me in advance—to argue for the prince's deposition. Once the prince was deposed, I intended to marry Princess Aria to the next head of another noble house and orchestrate a generational transfer of imperial power."

"Is he out of his mind?!"

"I knew that even the factions friendly to the throne despised the common-born Consort, and that they would remain silent and simply watch. The nobles of the Neutral Faction are, after all, a congregation of cowards afraid to gamble on the tide of the times. I also knew that so long as our cause was unimpeachable, they would never move to sanction us."

"..."

With that, Duke Alteir's mouth closed of its own accord—meaning there were no further crimes against the law for him to confess.

"Admit the knights."

"..."

"What are you standing there for?! Admit the knights!"

At Father's roar, the ladies-in-waiting who had been standing frozen scrambled to open the doors. In came the Imperial Palace Knights who had been waiting in the wings, and Sir Brand at their head gave me a slight bow as he passed.

"Every traitor who raised the clear banner of rebellion is to be thrown into the dungeons."

"Don't make me laugh! Didn't you say you showed us an illusion? Then you must have brainwashed me to fabricate facts that never existed! Killing the nobles who served him just because he fell in love with a commoner—and this man dares call himself Emperor while sitting on the throne!"

"Wouldn't that be verified soon enough by investigating the crimes everyone gathered here has just confessed to? I hardly had the power to fabricate your entire pasts as well."

"..."

A brief, wavering silence at the irrefutable logic that sealed his lips. At length, Father—having fully subdued Duke Alteir—broke that silence himself.

"To the nobles aside from the traitors, I shall now explain the true purpose of today's council. Concerning the execution of the traitors—Duke Alteir and the vassal nobles bound closely to him—I ask for your opinions."

The hall began to stir. And no wonder—for while the other nobles were one thing, Duke Alteir was the former Master of the Magic Tower, an Overlord of extraordinary military value. With the Demon World Tree nearing full maturity, executing one of the empire's strongest assets would be a loss far too great to bear—or so they reasoned.

At that, Count Serantino, one of the factions friendly to the throne, raised his hand.

"Would it not be wiser to strip him of his rank...? In that case, he would strive to rebuild his house and cleanse his shame. As for any concerns, we could simply deploy his forces at the vanguard and let them take the heaviest losses. Moreover, he hails from a house among the founding heroes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the empire—toppling so illustrious a lineage so casually would hardly be a flattering sight to the world..."

"Leaving nobles who raised the banner of rebellion alive—that is the true dishonor here."

"But Your Highness, one must look at reality."

"I see you are bold enough to stand on a battlefield alongside rebellious nobles. How courageous of you."

Listening to his repulsive words, I turned my gaze toward Duke Asis. Meeting my eyes, he seemed to judge that the moment had finally come, and raised his hand.

"I am in favor."

"Duke Asis!"

"Time yet remains before the Demon World Tree fully matures. And in objective terms, I believe His Highness the Prince, who wields the power of the Dragon Tongue, holds greater military value than Duke Alteir. That even I, an Aura Master, could not discern the phantoms His Highness displayed as false means the confirmation of his potential is as good as complete."

With the head of the Neutral Faction voicing his approval, it was effectively the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same as every Neutral noble present lending theirs. But the established pro-Imperial factions were slow to raise their hands. It wasn't that I couldn't understand. This was a generation carrying an unexploded bomb that could go off at any moment. More than that, the magic stones powering the artifacts woven into everyday life were byproducts of the Demon World Tree—to preserve this civilization as it stood, the tree could not be destroyed, only subdued.

"Father."

Still, if you weighed every last consideration like that, the rotten flesh would never be cut away in the end.

"Since the Dragon Tongue was, after all, a mere legend on record, I believe further verification may be necessary."

"Verification—through the traitors?"

"No. Everyone outside the Neutral Faction has just confessed their crimes in full. If we investigate them one by one, surely everyone will come to trust the proof."

"Wh-what are you saying?!"

At my words, the pro-Imperial factions' faces twisted in alarm. They understood perfectly. Their heads could not all be lopped off—and there was no need to dig up their own crimes, which had nothing to do with the treason. They were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠likely thinking this would end with nothing more than one hard yank on their leashes. But no matter how indispensable this generation claimed to be, I could not extend leniency to rebellion.

"A person, like water, cannot live perfectly clean forever."

"You speak of the obvious."

"Your Majesty—!"

"But even so, when you drink, shouldn't the water at least be clean enough not to kill you? Unlike these men."

At the Emperor's—my father's—words, their faces contorted. I met their eyes, steadied my voice once, and stepped forward. To be clear, I had no intention of actually shoving them to the very edge of the cliff, so this was nothing more than a performance disguised as a threat. Standing at their left flank, I swept my gaze over them one by one—and though belatedly, they exchanged glances with one another before hands began rising one after another in approval.

"Then let it be understood as unanimous. A date will be set for the public execution of every traitor. Simultaneously, their titles will be revoked and their territories annexed as direct imperial domains."

A tidy conclusion.

Click—the moment the affair concluded, the effect of Dialogue ended as well. It had seemed like a mere ten minutes, yet in felt time it was closer to ten hours. Perhaps because I was in the body of a young child, a stage like that devoured a tremendous amount of stamina, both mentally and physically.

"And furthermore... I shall take Euphemia Paul Bertian, formerly the Imperial Consort, as my Empress in the now-vacant seat."

Father's final words. Some let out sighs, but since the honor of the settled game had been nothing less than outright treason, no one dared object—unless there was someone among them without a single speck of dust to shake loose.

"...Euphemia."

Father walked slowly toward my mother, who stood quietly in place. Then, gently taking the hand that had toiled at his side for so long, he asked:

"I was far too late in coming... Can you forgive me?"

"I was the one who fell so short, in every way. Are you truly certain you wish to take one such as me as your Empress, Your Majesty?"

"Of course. Never again will I let go of these hands I have finally taken hold of."

It wasn't that my head failed to grasp the circumstances of that time—but in my heart, a faint residue of resentment toward Father still lingered. And yet the fact that he never once revealed how much he suffered, how he was rotting away inside... that, too, was a burden he had borne entirely alone. Now that everything twisted had been set right and things had returned to their proper starting point, I hoped no further clouds would gather over us.

I was seven years old this year. What an eventful life it had been.