Chapter 9: A Blade Lurks Beneath the Throat (2)
Chapter 9: A Blade Lurks Beneath the Throat (2)
I hit the ground running the very next day. It was time to achieve 'independence' for the first time in my life.
In the past, the main estate had always felt suffocating, yet I’d never even considered leaving. I’d foolishly thought that if I ran away, I would never truly escape my father’s gaze.
I was an idiot back then.
First, I checked my personal bank account.
There was more money than I’d expected.
“How is there this much?”
18.7 million dollars. That was roughly seven to eight years’ worth of a typical knight’s salary.
It was likely a legal gift—an inheritance from my late mother, plus the funds the family formally deposited to commemorate my coming of age. My father had no interest in me, but he wasn't the type to ignore the family's prestige.
When it comes to money, more is always better, and that was especially true now. To change the future, I needed far more than this.
I currently lack power, and money is a form of power. No matter how great House Ebenholtz is, their wealth isn't infinite. In fact, compared to the other 'Pillars,' they’re on the lower end.
“The greatest advantage of regression...”
My greatest weapon is information. I’ll leave half the account for investments and use the other half to buy a house.
Decision made.
I immediately drove to a real estate office.
[Imperial Brokerage R]
“...Welcome~”
The owner, who had been eating lunch in the back of the office, scrambled to his feet. I scanned the maps of the capital covering the walls.
“What brings you here today?”
“I’m here to purchase a house.”
I wanted a mansion not far from the Sentinel Knights Headquarters. There were apartments and manors among the options, but I needed a place of my own where I didn't have to share space with anyone.
“Ah, is that so?”
“Klein-Schmidt Street. This area seems best.”
I pointed to a specific section of the map.
[Imperial Capital Arcadia, District 3, 13 Von Klein-Schmidt Street]
It was a prime location with a clear view of the Empire’s Epsilon River. Properties rarely came on the market there, but with the recent changes in Imperial policy, someone was bound to be looking to sell.
“Uh... Ah~ There are no listings in that area.”
But he claimed there were none.
I could smell something fishy in his tone.
“None?”
I deliberately shortened my speech, staring the owner down as I asked again.
“Why don't you check one more time?”
At that, the owner scanned me again.
I was in civilian clothes, but my fashion was the height of Imperial trends. He might not know the face of a man named Maximilian, but he would recognize a luxury brand like Geronimo.
“Ah... Sigh. There is one place that was put up for sale urgently, but...”
“Show me.”
“Yes. It is a mansion in that area, but... this is a photo taken recently.”
The broker trailed off as he pulled out a photo of a mansion. It showed signs of a violent struggle—broken windows and damaged walls.
Aha.
I realized it immediately.
The owner of this house likely wasn't a pure Imperial. And they must have committed a 'very minor mistake.'
Recently, the Empire’s racial policies had been intensifying by the day. The blade was even being pointed at the descendants of foreigners who had naturalized generations ago and remained loyal to the Empire.
The Merin people, wealthy merchant stock, were the primary targets. The newly emerging power group, the Imperial Guard, especially craved their assets.
“...As you can see, it needs a lot of work.”
“It’s fine. I’ll buy it.”
“...”
The broker ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered.
“Where is the owner?”
“Ah... well... you see...”
The broker glanced at my face and let out a deep sigh.
“Actually, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but this mansion is caught up in something complicated.”
“Caught up?”
“There is someone who already claims to have the authority to seize this mansion...”
It was as I expected. A faint smile played on my lips.
“Who is it?”
“Ah, it’s... a man named Viscount Rodriguez? He’s a member of the Imperial Guard.”
At that moment, a dull throb hit my temples.
It was a name I knew.
— I am Rodriguez. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Maximilian.
An official of the Imperial Guard I had met once before my regression. He was a bastard who had climbed quite high by extorting and scraping together assets through all sorts of methods.
“I see.”
“Yes. It’s best if you avoid it if possible...”
The broker still hadn't recognized my face. He hadn't even asked for my name. He likely just thought I was some wealthy noble brat because of my expensive clothes.
“Please head back for today—”
“Listen carefully. My name is Maximilian Ebenholtz.”
“...Pardon? Max, Eben, Eh?”
The owner’s eyes, nose, and mouth rounded like full moons.
In the Imperial capital of Arcadia, the name Ebenholtz is practically invincible. At the very least, some vulgar, low-ranking noble trash who covets others' property wouldn't even be able to look me in the eye.
“I am also a new knight of the Sentinel Knights.”
Rodriguez is like filth. Most of the Imperial Guard are like that. Vermin who are obsessed with the Emperor and are hastening the downfall of the Empire.
I have to nip them in the bud while I can.
“A knight maintains the public order of the Empire. However, I cannot understand the claim of having 'seizure authority' no matter how much I think about it. I’ll have to look into what happened.”
One of a knight’s duties is maintaining the Empire’s security.
Since he is the loach muddying the Empire’s waters, I’ll try to reel him in as my own achievement.
“However, do not breathe a word of my name.”
It was a sort of undercover operation. Cockroaches hide when a person enters the room.
Yes, Rodriguez is exactly like a cockroach.
* * *
Viscount Rodriguez was a noble who had recently garnered quite a bit of attention in the Empire. He was originally from a peripheral family, but a few years ago, he captured a high-ranking member of the 'Revolutionary Group,' the Empire’s rebel force. For that achievement, he was handpicked for the Emperor’s Imperial Guard and entered central politics. From then on, he utilized his specialty to the fullest. He tracked the cash flow of foreign capitalists within the Empire—those who were not pure Aranians—and uncovered tax evasion and illegalities. He turned non-issues into issues. The Imperial Guard wanted that, and Rodriguez was on the fast track to success.
“The mansion?”
Rodriguez asked as he half-heartedly read the report his butler handed him. His office was filled with expensive artworks he had either seized or bought for a pittance.
“Yes, it seems someone has expressed interest in purchasing the mansion on Klein-Schmidt Street.”
“Who is it?”
“From what I heard from the broker, he seems to be just a noble brat...”
It was a mansion in a prime location. Since it was very much to Rodriguez’s liking, he had already set the stage. He had trapped the original owner, a Merin merchant, with the charge of funding the rebellion, turning him into a shell of a man. Now, all that remained was to legally swallow it up.
“Any details on his identity?”
“Well... he said he didn't ask that far, but seeing as he’s looking for a mansion near the Knights Headquarters, he seems to be a new knight who came up from the provinces. Haven't there been induction ceremonies all over the place lately? Sentinel, Lotus—”
“Hmph, ridiculous.”
Rodriguez snorted.
Of course, the status of the Knights is high in the Empire. However, that was merely external honor; practical power would soon shift to the Imperial Guard. That was the Emperor’s goal to begin with.
If the Knights are the Empire’s sword, the Imperial Guard is the one holding the hilt...
“Is that fellow Merlin, or whatever his name is, still holding out?”
“Yes. He has not confessed.”
The owner of the mansion, the Merin entrepreneur Merlin. His listing the mansion with the broker was merely a formal procedure under Rodriguez’s pressure.
No one would try to buy this house, the price would naturally plummet, and later, it would be put up for an auction he had rigged to buy it for a song.
“I have a busy schedule this week. I’ll settle it next week.”
“...Do you intend to go yourself?”
The butler asked, sounding puzzled. It was rare for the Viscount to personally step out for such a trivial matter.
“I should. He’s a knight, after all. There’s no harm in getting acquainted, and if we clash too heavily, it might cause problems. I’ll go myself and persuade him appropriately.”
“Yes. Understood. Then, please rest well.”
The butler left. Rodriguez poured a glass full of red wine. His eyes were dyed crimson as he stared at the shimmering liquid.
Suddenly, a smile spread across his lips.
He thought it was going to be quite an enjoyable affair.
* * *
The meeting was set for next week. I didn't bother to rush it.
Rodriguez owed me time, and I was going to make sure I collected it that day.
Anyway.
“...Are all these people my instructors?”
Today was the day to receive a gift. Ten swordsmen were lined up in the Great Training Hall of Ebenholtz. They were the 'new swordsmanship instructors' I had requested from Zebestian before.
“Not all of them. You just need to choose one of them.”
Engie smiled brightly. I scanned their faces. Each one of them radiated the aura of the strong.
“These are candidates carefully selected through testing. They have all passed both the document screening and the practical interview.”
I knew nine out of the ten.
Seven of the nine were former knights who were excessively loyal to the Empire in the past, and the other two were faces I had seen until I was sick of them on the social pages of the newspapers before my regression.
The Empire’s enemies—high-ranking members of the Revolutionary Army.
Those two are dangerous elements I shouldn't get close to right now.
As for the other seven, I simply didn't want to be near them.
Naturally, I looked at the one remaining person.
It was a face I had never seen before. My memory wasn't exceptionally good, but I tended to remember faces particularly well.
I had no choice. I had to remember and distinguish countless faces while spending a long time living as a fugitive.
“Hmm...”
She was standing empty-handed in ordinary training clothes, without even a single sword. She seemed far removed from the flashy careers or momentum of the other candidates. She was female, but she wore a robe. Her appearance revealed beneath the hood was nothing special. If anything, she was deeply wrinkled.
“What is your name?”
The elderly and children encountered on a battlefield are dangerous.
Similarly, in a place where the strong are gathered, the person no one knows is the strongest.
“Priya.”
I decided to choose her.