Chapter 62: Enemy of the Empire (2)
Chapter 62: Enemy of the Empire (2)
Arnold von Eschenbach was the preeminent intellect of the Empire. He was a towering figure, his roots deep in the lineage of knowledge, straddling the boundary between magic and magi-engineering.
He had dedicated his life to exploring the principles of mana and the laws of nature, opening his estate as an academy to nurture future generations without condition. His benevolent nature earned him the widespread respect of intellectuals, establishing him as a luminary in the academic world.
Recently, however, one of Arnold’s disciples had been arrested by the military upon re-entering the country after attending a foreign academic conference.
The charges were the dissemination of subversive ideologies and the leakage of technology. He had been caught in the Empire’s web of censorship.
Knowing his disciple was not the type to commit such acts, Arnold decided to personally appear at the location where he was being detained.
“Will you be safe?” his butler asked with concern.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. But as a teacher, is it not my duty to go and see my student…?”
He tightened his necktie and stepped into the car.
“We are departing.”
Leaning back in the rear seat with his fedora pulled low, he watched the scenery pass by outside the window.
“We have arrived.”
Lost in thought, he soon reached his destination: a military base on the outskirts of the capital, adjacent to the airport.
As soon as Arnold stepped out of the car, soldiers with cold expressions approached him.
“Mr. Arnold. This way.”
They guided Arnold somewhere. It wasn't a dark interrogation room, but a neatly organized office.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mage Arnold.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“Please, have a seat.”
Behind the desk, a colonel sitting in front of a nameplate that read [Keynes] politely gestured toward the sofa. As soon as Arnold sat down, he attempted to bring up his disciple.
“First, regarding the young man you’ve detained—”
“Ah.”
Colonel Keynes raised a palm to cut him off.
“One more person will be joining us.”
“...One more?”
“Yes.”
Keynes smiled at him.
Thud. Thud.
At that moment, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond the office.
Colonel Keynes craned his neck to peer out the window, while Arnold watched Keynes’s reaction.
Thud. Thud.
The distinct resonance of knight’s boots—leather and steel treading upon marble.
Creeeeeak—
The door opened, and he appeared.
Keynes stood up from his chair and saluted. Only then did Arnold turn his gaze to look at him.
In a moment where time seemed to slow, the man’s image was seared into Arnold’s retinas.
Blonde hair and golden eyes. Strikingly handsome features and limbs of perfect proportion.
His form was the very epitome of an Aranian, and his bearing was profoundly noble.
With not a single hair out of place and a disciplined posture, he approached with a gentle smile and offered his hand.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mage Arnold. I am Knight Maximilian.”
Arnold stood up somewhat awkwardly and took his hand.
“My apologies. I should have been here first.”
“...It is quite alright.”
“Please, speak comfortably. Do sit.”
Maximilian’s voice and pronunciation were perfectly that of a central aristocrat.
Just as the rumors said.
“There was a minor incident two days ago, and as it was just finalized, I am a bit late.”
“Ah~ I heard about that.”
Colonel Keynes chimed in knowingly, and Arnold asked, hiding his tension.
“What kind of incident was it?”
Maximilian’s movements stopped abruptly. He stared intently at Arnold.
“...Are you curious?”
At his question, Arnold gave a small nod.
“I suppose I am curious about the duties of a knight.”
“Hmm. It was nothing major, but...”
*
Two days ago.
In the luxurious office of Johann Schiele, the Vice President of the Golden Gate Trade company.
“Johann Schiele. You are under emergency arrest for conspiracy to commit insurrection under Article 112 of the Imperial Law and for providing funds to anti-state organizations under Article 114.”
In the past—on the very day he had bought Litruman’s useless sword for two million dollars at the charity auction—the man named ‘Johann Schiele,’ an Izenheim, had been written into Maximilian’s death note.
“The evidence is as follows.”
Wiretap records and fund-tracking data collected over several weeks by the team led by Schatz were tossed onto his desk as evidence. Johann Schiele merely looked up at Maximilian with a hollow laugh, as if he had resigned himself to his fate.
“Search the place.”
At Maximilian’s signal, the investigators moved in perfect order, ransacking the office.
“—This is illegal! You have no warrant!”
The company’s lawyer shouted loudly. The investigators’ attention briefly shifted to him. Zendo let out a scoff of disbelief.
“Illegal? Are you blind to this evidence?”
“Evidence obtained through illegal means has no valid—”
“No.”
At that moment, Maximilian slowly walked toward him. The lawyer flinched and stepped back. His once-bold blue eyes trembled violently.
Maximilian placed a hand on his shoulder. Staring into his terrified pupils, he whispered lowly.
“It seems you are mistaken.”
“The law is decided by the Empire, not by the likes of you.”
Subsequently, the trading company known as Golden Gate was dismantled on charges of funding the Revolutionary Group, and Maximilian’s report was delivered to the Knights and the Imperial Palace.
The reactions from the two institutions were quite different.
From Anton, he received a concerned reply stating, ‘I hope you follow formal procedures next time,’ while the Imperial Palace was satisfied with his swift efficiency.
*
“It was an affair of that magnitude. Nothing special.”
At Maximilian’s words, Colonel Keynes chimed in flatteringly.
“As expected of a knight of Ebenholtz.”
“It was merely what had to be done.”
Maximilian waved it off. Arnold, with a bitter smile, asked him back.
“Then, what happened? To that man named Johann.”
“Well.”
Maximilian twitched an eyebrow briefly, as if recalling that ‘unremarkable’ day.
“He was quite stubborn and refused to confess until the end, but since the evidence was clear...”
Maximilian’s gaze turned sharp. Looking straight into Arnold’s eyes, he said:
“I killed him. Probably yesterday.”
“...”
Arnold swallowed hard despite himself. His face felt stiff.
Maximilian whispered quietly from across him.
“So, this matter will also be a simple procedure.”
His voice was calm and low.
“If Mage Arnold’s disciple has no connection to the Revolutionary Group and it is all a misunderstanding, we will, of course, release him.”
Maximilian signaled to Colonel Keynes.
“Ah, yes. First, these are the letters we intercepted.”
The bundle of letters he held out were those exchanged between Arnold’s disciple and scholars in the East. Most of it was mundane, consisting of academic reflections. However, among them were sentences criticizing the Empire’s strict censorship for hindering academic progress, along with what seemed like ‘discussions’ regarding specific magic and magi-engineering techniques.
That was the technology leak.
Colonel Keynes asked Arnold.
“Do scholars often exchange such letters?”
“...It depends on the person, but we usually do not place boundaries on knowledge. A researcher’s background is a secondary matter. It is for the sake of advancing one’s research and learning new things. However, we never leak Imperial secrets. That particular magic theory is also just a common—”
“Then.”
Maximilian stared at him fixedly.
“Do you also have such pen pals, Mage Arnold?”
“It isn’t consistent enough to be called a pen pal relationship, but—”
“So you do.”
Maximilian’s gaze tilted slightly. His eyes swept over Arnold’s half-white hair, his glasses, and his wristwatch in turn.
“Let me ask you. Have you ever received a proposal for such a ‘discussion’ yourself, Mage?”
“...”
In the suffocating atmosphere, Arnold hesitated.
However, hiding the truth from this knight might not be a wise choice.
“I have, but I had no reason to accept. I have many disciples I can discuss things with, after all.”
Maximilian glanced at Colonel Keynes. Sensing the cue, the colonel stopped the machine recording the conversation.
“Mage.”
Maximilian stood up first.
“Let us step outside for a moment to talk.”
Colonel Keynes hid a smile as he adjusted his hat, and Arnold stood up with a grim face.
* * *
As the setting sun scattered a deep red glow across the sky.
Anton arrived at the military base where Maximilian had appeared.
Screeeech—!
The vehicle came to a noisy halt near the main gate. Anton and Adria threw the car doors open as if flinging them away.
Just as the two were about to run toward the base.
Rumble—
The iron gates at the entrance opened heavily, and two people walked out. It was Arnold and his disciple.
Arnold spotted Anton first.
“Hmm? Anton?”
Anton stared at Arnold’s face. He looked tired, but otherwise perfectly fine.
“...Huh?”
Anton and Adria froze in place as if struck by lightning. They could only blink blankly.
Swallowing hard, Anton managed to ask.
“What happened?”
“...What do you mean, what happened?”
Arnold gestured with his chin toward his disciple, Ensilen.
“This brat did something stupid, and I had to clean it up.”
Cleaned it up?
How was it settled?
Still failing to grasp the situation, Anton asked again.
“By any chance, did Knight Maximilian not come here?”
“Ah. He did.”
And yet, the military had released Arnold’s disciple. To Anton and Adria, the reason was utterly incomprehensible...
“Haha.”
Arnold gave a faint smile, as if reading the questions written on their faces.
The memory of just a few hours ago surfaced vividly before his eyes.
*
Arnold walked with Maximilian along a quiet path inside the military base.
Through the well-maintained landscaped forest, he watched the back of the young knight walking ahead of him.
A straight back and a disciplined stride. An appearance that looked as if the Aranian ideal promoted by the Empire had been carved into reality.
Arnold let out a low, involuntary exclamation of admiration.
“You truly are the paragon of an Imperial citizen.”
Maximilian gave a smirk, but nothing more.
Rustle. Rustle.
He simply walked along the forest path. Arnold followed behind him.
They stopped in a secluded spot surrounded by trees.
Swoooosh—
A remote place where the air felt chilly and ominous, and the leaves rustled.
A longsword was still strapped to Maximilian’s back.
“Mage Arnold.”
Maximilian had already reached a conclusion.
Detaining or harming him here was not the right choice. It was a petty trick by the Intelligence Agency and a short-sighted act fueled by personal emotion.
If Arnold were detained, the entire academic world would harbor resentment toward the Empire and ‘Ebenholtz.’
As the heir of Ebenholtz, he had no need to take such a risk, and above all, he had no desire to act like a puppet for the damn Imperial Palace and the Agency bastards.
“From now on, say that you have never even received such a proposal. Do not exchange letters ever again, and if a letter comes from the East, do not even read it—burn it.”
A clear ‘distinction’ was necessary.
The will of the Imperial Palace was not the will of the Emperor. Likewise, the will of the Agency was not the will of the Emperor.
The sycophants of the Imperial Palace, parasitizing the Emperor, were nothing more than vermin that had to be purged one day.
“Trying to maintain your pride or insisting on telling the truth is nothing but reckless bravado.”
On the other hand, Arnold was a man useful to the Empire. He was not a revolutionary, but an excellent mage and an insightful magi-engineer.
“Also, cease your remarks regarding the sub-species. The Imperial Palace no longer has the patience to tolerate your statements.”
Arnold’s face turned puzzled, and Maximilian placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Mage Arnold, what do you think of the sub-species?”
“There are differences, but they are not to the extent of warranting discrimination.”
Differences between races exist. However, they are at a level that can be called ‘natural,’ much like skin color.
“They are the characteristics of races that make the world more diverse.”
Maximilian wore a bitter smile.
“You are wrong. Sub-species are inferior races that absolutely require the Empire’s control. Do you know why, Mage?”
“What...?”
“You are a pure-blooded Aranian noble. You are a person far more beneficial to the Empire than dozens, hundreds, or perhaps thousands of lower-class humans combined.”
Arnold watched the young knight in silence. There were many parts of his argument he wanted to correct, but he knew he shouldn't right now.
“Even if you deny it yourself, the world will judge it so. Your life is by no means the same as theirs. The bullshit claim that everyone’s life is equal is clearly wrong.”
Perhaps this knight was the type of person who could not be persuaded in the first place...
Arnold shook his head.
“But—”
“Hold your tongue.”
Maximilian cut him off coldly. That single phrase silenced Arnold.
Silence settled over the forest.
“...Sigh.”
Suddenly, Maximilian looked up at the sky and let out a faint sigh. Arnold quietly followed his gaze.
“The world is changing rapidly. Academia will be contaminated by ideology, and knowledge will become a weapon used to murder humans.”
Maximilian lowered his head. He looked straight into Arnold’s eyes again.
“I will not deny it. I am also one of those imperialists.”
Maximilian’s desert-like golden eyes held no emotion, which made them feel all the more like blades.
“So, I ask that you do not force me to cut you down.”
There was no lie in his words. It was advice born of the young knight’s sincerity.
Arnold nodded as he faced him, and Maximilian soon guided Arnold somewhere.
“Follow me.”
They moved together to the military prison.
Passing through cold iron doors and corridors, they stood before the cell where the disciple was detained.
Beyond the iron bars, a haggard-looking man was visible.
“Ensilen!”
Maximilian signaled to the guard.
“Release him.”
The guard looked flustered for a moment but quickly brought the keys and opened the door.
Clang—
The iron bars opened.
Clink—
The chains binding the disciple were removed.
“Wait outside while the paperwork is finalized.”
Arnold was about to turn away in silence when he called out to him again.
“...Knight Maximilian.”
Maximilian looked back at him.
“Was this at Anton’s request?”
Anton’s request. Maximilian repeated the words softly and smiled. It was a distortion that looked like a sneer.
“No. If anything, I dislike that man.”
In times of peace, a sage possessing the virtues desired by all.
In times of chaos, an old man trying to grasp at cloud-like ideals.
“However, my personal feelings and his abilities are separate matters, so I merely respect him.”
A man who became the Vice-Captain of the Sentinels through sheer skill despite being a fallen noble—
A man born in the wrong era.
“...I see.”
Arnold watched Maximilian for a moment before nodding quietly.
*
Inside Anton’s car. Arnold was on his way home with Anton.
“How was Maximilian?”
Anton, in the driver’s seat, suddenly asked about Maximilian.
“Hmm...”
Arnold fell into thought for a moment.
From what Maximilian had said to him today, he could gauge a ‘part’ of him.
‘You are a pure-blooded Aranian noble. You are a person far more beneficial to the Empire than dozens, hundreds, or perhaps thousands of lower-class humans combined. Even if you deny it yourself, the world will judge it so. Your life is by no means the same as theirs.’
Pure Aranian. The distinction between lower and upper classes.
He was someone who entirely followed the will of the Empire, but he was not someone blinded by ‘it.’
“In my view... he is a noble with his eyes open.”
Maximilian had directly uttered words rarely heard from the Empire’s nobility.
‘Academia will be contaminated by ideology, and knowledge will become a weapon used to murder humans.’
He accurately diagnosed the reality of the Empire. Yet, he did not withdraw his respect for Arnold himself. There was dignity in every gesture and word.
‘I ask that you do not force me to cut you down.’
Evaluating such a man was difficult. He was a very multifaceted person whose depths could never be fathomed in a single meeting.
However, if there was one thing for certain.
“He was very...”
Even while threatening to kill and showing raw hatred for sub-species, he was a man whose class as a human being did not falter.
“A noble imperialist.”
Such a noble would certainly not be common in this Empire.