Effort Is Not Enough!!
Effort is not enough! Not enough!!
“So in the end you failed to catch a single one of them? Those damned drug pushers?”
Is this a joke? Does that even make sense? Breaking a promise over something as pathetic as that?
Rage surges up. A colossal blaze that no rational excuse can smother, roaring higher by the second.
It burns away even the fact that this is the Imperial Palace, that he is standing right beside the Emperor himself.
The only thing that matters right now is what Mathieu just said—that they let “those bastards” slip away.
Thud. Thud.
“K-Kyle? Student Kyle?”
The ministers who had, only moments earlier, been pouring out their indignation at Mathieu and the Coalition freeze in alarm.
The moment Kyle leaves his assigned place, the Imperial Knights standing ready snap into motion.
They are forced to halt and step back only by a sharp gesture from the Emperor.
In that brief interval Kyle is already standing right in front of Mathieu.
“Say it again, Sir Mathieu. You’re telling me you lost those people because of nothing more than a few monsters. Is that what you’re claiming? Hm? Is that actually true?”
“Eh? Ah… y-yes, Kyle. That is to say…”
“I’ll ask once more. Seriously—not some flimsy excuse. You’re saying you really lost them because of mere monsters?”
Mathieu, about to answer “yes,” clamps his mouth shut.
He has just met the flames blazing in Kyle’s eyes.
This is not the first time he has faced the emotion called “anger.” He has endured it countless times.
But the fury burning before him now is of an entirely different order from anything he has ever known.
Touch it and you would burst into flame on the spot, then turn to ash a heartbeat later.
That is how terrifying the rage Mathieu faces truly is.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For… for letting the amplifiers and the people involved get away…”
“Then why did you do something you have to apologize for? Did you think—damn it—did you think I let you go so you could do this? You’re telling me you got scared of a few monsters, got blocked by them, and failed to catch the targets—and you call that an explanation?”
The polite young man of the John Nassen family Mathieu had once met is gone.
In his place stands only a roaring monster of pure fury.
“Th-that is…”
Instinctive fear drives Mathieu to blurt out additional reasons before he even realizes it.
He feels he must say something—anything—more.
“They were no ordinary monsters. We had captured everything from trolls up to ogres. If we had pressed with knights it might have been different, but with ordinary soldiers the limit was clear…”
“Knights or soldiers—aren’t they all just people? Why can knights do it and soldiers can’t?”
Mathieu’s words die in his throat.
Because it is so obvious. Unlike knights who specialize in mana, soldiers cannot, so of course they are weaker!
Yet looking into Kyle’s eyes, he cannot force the words out.
Some gut instinct warns him that if he says it he will hear an answer too terrifying to bear.
“I am sorry. The fault is entirely mine.”
“Of course you should be sorry. You broke a promise. Of course it’s your fault, Sir Mathieu. You’re the one in charge.”
“…I am truly sorry. I will somehow…”
“Somehow what? You said they already fled. They left the Coalition, didn’t they? So what exactly are you going to do?”
Under Kyle’s relentless pressure Mathieu can only shut his mouth; he has no answer left.
A middle-aged man frozen solid before a youth who has barely reached adulthood—a thoroughly strange sight.
…
The silent ministers glance furtively at the Emperor.
No matter the problem, the man is still an envoy and representative of another nation.
Push him too hard and even the moderate faction inside the Coalition might turn their backs completely.
The Emperor, however, makes no move to intervene.
On the contrary, a faint smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he watches Kyle crush Mathieu.
That the man is a foreign envoy, that he is a powerful expert—none of it matters to this youth.
To a John Nassen, the only things that matter are that a promise was broken and that the people who would have ruined sacred training were allowed to escape.
If I press the Coalition myself it could become a problem. But this young man, Kyle, is crushing them on his own, so I need do nothing and the Coalition will still be forced to scramble.
A most desirable state of affairs. Outwardly he looks like a loyal retainer who has willingly taken on the role of villain.
Even if his true motive is something else entirely, the result is still excellent.
“Kyle John Nassen. I understand your anger at the broken promise. Still, should we not hear a little more of the story?”
In this way the Emperor can even present himself as the mediator.
There is a great deal for him to gain simply from Kyle stepping forward like this.
“Sir Mathieu Philibert.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”
“Then where did those who used the monsters as bait and escaped go? Do you not even know their destination?”
“No, Your Majesty. Fortunately we discovered their course and learned where they are headed.”
“And where is that?”
“The south.”
The south. At that word the ministers begin murmuring again.
First the Coalition, and now the independent southern lords?
A swarm of island territories too bothersome to conquer and offering nothing of value in return.
They had been left alone with a casual “do as you please”—and now the hardliners of the Coalition are heading there?
“There is something there.”
Just as the Emperor says, there is something. Otherwise they would never head south.
After settling the Coalition, it seems the time has come to turn toward the south as well.
“Thank you for coming all this way to deliver such unpleasant news, Sir Mathieu Philibert.”
“I am unworthy of such words.”
“Monsters are stirring near the border—and in an artificial manner at that. Truly concerning.”
After a brief moment of thought the Emperor summons the Minister of War.
“If those monsters were to approach the border, or even cross it, would that not be a grave matter?”
“It would, Your Majesty. Should the monsters cross over, the border region and everything around it would be completely paralyzed.”
“Then we shall have to reinforce the forces near the border. In an emergency we could even assist the Coalition, after all.”
“Your words are most wise. That would be the proper course.”
Reinforcing troops near the border. For the Coalition this is anything but welcome news.
Who can say how those troops might turn, or in what fashion?
Under normal circumstances the Emperor would never have made such a decision, if only out of consideration for the internal mood of the Coalition.
But this entire affair was caused by the Coalition; they have no grounds to object.
Worse, the stated reason is “to assist the Coalition in an emergency,” which leaves them even less room to protest.
Even if the Empire openly stations troops on the border and applies pressure, the Coalition will have to watch in silence rather than complain.
“Might this decision cause the Coalition discomfort? I am willing to listen.”
“…No, Your Majesty. Should our domestic troubles somehow harm the Empire as well, the matter would only grow larger. I believe your course is the correct one.”
Pushing back would only earn him the label of a man without justification. Better to accept it cleanly.
“I am grateful for those words. They allow me to be certain that you and the remaining members of the Coalition truly intended to suppress those people with the utmost vigor. From here on we shall deliberate and handle the rest together—both the rampaging monster packs and the Coalition members who fled south.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
The audience with the Coalition’s envoy is adjourned.
Mathieu, granted quarters, is escorted out first by personnel from the Ministry of the Imperial Household.
One by one the ministers rise and return to their posts in obedience to the imperial will.
Only the Emperor and Kyle, who has received no further orders, remain.
“Kyle John Nassen.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I regret this. You received a promise, yet it was not properly fulfilled. I should have paid closer attention. I am truly sorry.”
The word “sorry” does not leave the Emperor’s lips lightly.
It is an act that diminishes his own authority and exposes his fault; of course it is rare.
Even so the Emperor speaks the word, because he has gained something far greater in return.
…
Once again irritation boils up inside Kyle.
He had trusted them and returned to the Academy; his brother and sister had gone home.
And now they claim they lost those people because they were blocked by mere monsters.
Those monsters—you just grab them like this, tear them apart like that, and slam them into the ground. That’s all it takes.
His chest feels ready to burst with frustration, yet what can he do?
They have already fled south. What is lost is lost.
“It is nothing, Your Majesty. If it was truly beyond their control, then there is nothing to be done.”
“I am grateful you would say so.”
After those words the Emperor looks at Kyle with a peculiar glint in his eye.
Kyle catches the meaning at once and thinks, Ah.
“It would be best not to inform my family of this.”
“Hm?”
Through the John Nassen family the Emperor has settled the troublesome western kingdom Coalition.
He now wishes to ride that momentum and force the independent southern lords to their knees as well.
As Emperor, how could he not harbor such a grand design?
As the sovereign of the Empire, as its manager, it is only natural.
The problem is that the John Nassen family is nowhere near foolish enough to move according to his wishes.
“If they hear that something they entrusted in good faith has gone so thoroughly awry, they may misunderstand and think that only a show of effort was made while nothing was actually done. And to clear that misunderstanding themselves they might head for the Coalition… or they might come here to the Empire.”
…
Your Majesty, they will not obediently chase the prey south like hunting hounds just because you wish it.
Even if they do go, they will first pay a visit to the Coalition and the Empire that failed to handle the matter properly.
And that visit will absolutely, absolutely not end well.
“…Kyle.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
Even though the words carried a faint note of threat, the Emperor is sincerely grateful.
He had nearly made a catastrophic error of judgment, and Kyle has just prevented it.
Better for the Empire to take the lead in cleaning things up. Better for their amicable relations.
Where else could one find a more loyal subject? And…
Where else could one find a more perfect youngest son-in-law?
His youngest daughter remains utterly incomprehensible to him.
Yet at least she has chosen her man extremely well—so the Emperor thinks.
I’ll handle this myself. If word reaches home it’ll be a damn disaster.
Had the Emperor known Kyle’s true thoughts, his reaction might have been different.