The Emperor Doesn't Know Labor Law - 4
I had failed to escape the Imperial Capital under the fantastical pretext of founding the Inspectorate Ministry, yet I consoled myself with the fact that I had at least gotten out from under the Emperor’s direct shadow.
Not long after, however, I was summoned again. The bastard was in a class of his own.
"I have reviewed the draft the Minister submitted. Appointing them as listed seems fine enough. What does the Minister think?"
"At present, I do not believe there is a better arrangement."
"Good. Those named on the list shall be treated as the designated appointees. The Minister will bring them with him when he enters the Imperial Palace."
He was not even content to summon me alone. He added the order to gather the designated senior officers who were scattered about like Dragon Balls.
It was an annoying, bothersome command. We had not yet been formally integrated into the Inspectorate Ministry, so the designated officers were still buried in the Ministry of Finance compound, the Ministry of Special Affairs compound, or some forgotten corner of the Imperial Capital. Collecting those gentlemen one by one from their scattered posts was a cruel imposition.
"Your Majesty. I speak with the utmost reluctance, but among those on the list is a bureaucrat currently on parental leave."
The decisive point was that the Second Section Chief still held the formidable shield of parental leave. Even I felt a certain dread at the thought of yanking a man out of leave—especially parental leave.
Put bluntly, if the Second Section Chief were dragged in by an imperial summons, a precedent would be set: Even during parental leave, one must move when an imperial command falls. With the number of children I was going to have, what was I supposed to do if that kind of precedent took root?
"Parental leave?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Fortunately, the Emperor seemed stirred by the words. His brow creased ever so slightly. As a man raising the Crown Princess himself, he had clearly been shaken by the word parental.
If he had stopped there, I would not have called him a bastard.
"…There is nothing more important than caring for one’s child. Still, tell him to report for a single day. Once the appointments are finished, he may leave at once."
After a brief silence, the Emperor finally punched straight through the supreme shield of parental leave. Yes. This bastard was a bastard after all.
"As separate departments are being integrated, a firm hierarchy must be established. Rather than rushing the order into place, it would be best to designate the senior officers as quickly as possible."
Of course, even he seemed to realize that ignoring leave was too harsh a command, for he hurriedly offered excuses. But from the moment the order was given, any excuse was nothing more than crocodile tears.
If the Emperor breaks the law, to whom does one complain?
For the moment, let us pretend the Imperial Diet and the Supreme Court do not exist. Protest there and they might come out with some insane line about how a subject’s proper duty was to report for work of his own free will before His Majesty was forced to make a heartbreaking decision.
Damn it.
I let out a small sigh and tucked the communication orb into my coat. Because of a certain someone who had issued a cruel and merciless order, I now had to drag a subordinate enjoying parental leave back with my own hands.
I am sorry. The only gift I prepared was a promotion. I never imagined I would also be handing out a surprise workday.
I am truly sorry.
Designated Director of Enforcement of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Third Section Chief of the Audit Department: Leonard Hodella.
Designated Deputy Director of Enforcement of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Fifth Section Chief of the Audit Department: Marsilio Viago.
Designated Director of Information of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Director of Information: Eugène Cloua of Hist.
Designated Deputy Director of Information of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Second Section Chief of the Audit Department: Lafayette Baron.
Designated Director of Special Tasks of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Leader of Mukgwangdae: Penelia Uth.
Designated Deputy Director of Special Tasks of the Inspectorate Ministry, current Commander of the Flame Mages: Nicholas Hedan.
Aside from the Second Section Chief, the other designated officers could be assembled quickly.
In truth, any friction would have been stranger. The Director of Information was simply retaining his original role without change; Penelia and the Fifth Section Chief were the obedient type. As for the man who had become Deputy Director of Special Tasks, he was so pleased by the promotion that there was nothing left to discuss.
"No, why am I the Director? At my age, taking on such a heavy responsibility makes no sense!"
"And me becoming Minister at my age makes sense?"
In the middle of it all, the Third Section Chief—designated Director of Enforcement—put up a tiny bit of resistance.
"Besides, the list of officers has already gone up to His Majesty. This is no longer a Minister’s order. It’s an imperial command. If you want to become a bureaucrat who defies an imperial command, go right ahead."
Before the great, purple-glowing imperial command, he folded at once. A truly perfect assembly.
"We present ourselves before Your Majesty."
"We present ourselves before Your Majesty."
Thanks to that, seven of us—including myself—gathered and bowed before the Emperor. In the Emperor’s eyes we must have looked like living Dragon Balls. Issue a command and we would handle just about anything.
The difference from the original was that we would not scatter after granting a wish. All-purpose items, these.
"Raise your heads."
I carefully lifted my gaze and found the Emperor wearing a look of deep satisfaction.
Or was it just my imagination? For a fleeting moment I thought I saw the eyes of a stockman appraising A++-grade Korean beef.
"The Inspectorate Ministry has not yet been formally founded, yet seeing the talent who will lead it fills me with joy."
"We are overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s words."
"Moreover, you are the talent the Retired Emperor arranged for Us and for the Empire. Our expectations, therefore, are very high."
A chill ran down my spine. It sounded exactly like: These are the precious slaves the Retired Emperor left me, so I intend to work them thoroughly.
"…We shall without fail repay Your Majesty’s trust."
Outwardly, however, it was ordinary praise, so I forced out a ceremonial reply.
The Emperor nodded as if satisfied. The urge to punch him once rose so strongly I nearly gave in.
"Right, Minister. You said the Inspectorate Ministry would be composed of three departments?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The Enforcement Department, which will carry out the original duties of the Audit Department; the Information Department, to be formed by integrating two sections of the Audit Department; and the Special Tasks Department, composed of the combat forces of the Ministry of Special Affairs."
Fortunately, pure work conversation began before the impulse could grow any larger. A little later and I might have started down the traitor route.
"Then the Enforcement Department will be smaller than before. I shall send additional budget. Put effort into expanding the staff."
"I do not know how to repay Your Majesty’s grace."
I bowed in thanks at the Emperor’s words, which resolved a point that had been weighing on me. I had worried whether the Enforcement Department—losing two of its four sections—would function properly. Once the Emperor himself promised budget support, there was nothing left to worry about.
The Third Section Chief would also be happy, knowing the department under his management would grow under the Emperor’s attention. Of course.
"Ah, I have kept busy bureaucrats too long with idle talk. Let us proceed at once to the appointment ceremony."
So saying, the Emperor walked toward the officers standing behind me. Soon I heard the soft sound of pats—he was clapping their shoulders and exchanging a few words himself.
"Is it because the Minister is young that the officers are young as well? I look forward to energetic work."
Shit.
Strange. The words were clearly directed at the officers, yet they felt aimed at me.
It sounded like a declaration of war: You’re still young, so I’m going to work you hard.
Looking at the appointees the Minister of the Inspectorate Ministry had brought, I nearly laughed.
The senior officers of a ministry-level department are this young?
A twenty-something Emperor was not really in a position to talk. The throne was so heavily shaped by bloodline that one could, in theory, end up with a two-year-old emperor rather than a twenty-year-old one.
Bureaucrats, however, were different. In bureaucratic society—unlike noble society—bloodline carried relatively little weight. A good house might help with promotion, but bureaucrats from good houses were hardly rare. In the end, ability always won. The current Minister of Relief, for instance, was an orphan by origin.
Even allowing for that, the officers of the Inspectorate Ministry were too radical. Even the oldest among them, the Director of Information, was still quite vigorous when compared against directors as a whole.
At least the Minister of Relief has a long bureaucratic career behind him.
But what could be done? The Minister himself was the very symbol of radical appointments. I was the one who had made him so.
I had no intention, therefore, of scolding him now for choosing young officers. On the contrary—the younger they were, the longer they could be used… no, the longer they could work.
Not bad at all.
Moreover, such radical personnel orders could stimulate the bureaucracy. They could give hope to those who possessed ability and ambition yet were forced to hold their breath under seasoned superiors.
The wall of seniority was high—very high—but it was not a wall that could never be climbed.
"I look forward to your future achievements."
"Yes, Your Majesty! We shall without fail repay Your Majesty’s faith!"
After clapping the shoulder of the designated Deputy Director of Special Tasks one last time in encouragement, I turned my gaze back to the Minister.
"It would be improper to keep busy bureaucrats any longer. All of you may leave except the Minister."
I saw the Minister’s pupils tremble at those words. Now that the appointments were finished, it would have been fine to send everyone away—yet “everyone” did not include the Minister. It was hardly a new development.
Besides, the founding of the Inspectorate Ministry was being driven by the Deputy Minister of the Inspectorate, so there was nothing to hold him back.
And I happen to have something to ask.
At this point even I found it remarkable. I could not understand how, every single time I saw him, there was always some task to assign or some question to ask.
My teeth were grinding. The sheer atrocity of wanting to keep his favorite toy beside him the moment it entered the Imperial Palace nearly brought tears to my eyes.
You damn bastard. If you’re going to do this, at least pay me a palace attendant’s salary. If this isn’t an attendant’s job, then what the hell is?
The rising rage and suffering only grew fiercer with the Emperor’s next words.
"Minister, how is the management of your territory progressing?"
This bastard?
Why bring up territory all of a sudden? Was he mocking me because I was about to inherit the title of Imperial Count?
I froze for a moment, unable to answer at once. The Emperor blinked a few times, then let out a short laugh.
"Not the territory you will inherit. The one you already possess."
…
Ah.
Only then did I grasp what the Emperor meant. A region that had been slowly fading from my mind rose again.
Wiridia. Right. That place existed.
I remembered receiving the title of Count of Wiridia, yet I had completely forgotten about Wiridia County itself. I was certain I had still remembered it right after the war, when I returned to the Academy.
"There are local officials who have managed Wiridia since it was a direct imperial domain, so there have been no irregularities. Still, it is the Minister’s territory, is it not?"
"…I am deeply ashamed."
A bizarre situation in which imperial local officials were still working a great domain that had already been granted to a noble. There was not even room for excuse; I could only lower my head.
The mere fact that officials drawing imperial salaries were managing land that was no longer a direct imperial domain was already considerable consideration. From the imperial family’s point of view, they had been paying their own money to administer someone else’s land.
Damn it. Was it because incidents had been exploding one after another lately? How in the world had I managed to forget my own territory?