Civil Servants Don't Get Vacations - 2
I threw out Section Chief 2, who had gone down after taking a cake to the face, along with Section Chief 1, who was whining that it was just too much after all the trouble he had gone to preparing it. The guy's face was a full-on pout, but his voice was dripping with laughter—he clearly had a gift for provocation. I sincerely hoped that someday someone exactly like him would end up working under him.
In the end, my first task after coming into the office for the first time in ages was cleaning up the cake scattered all over the floor. I should have told them to clean it up and get lost themselves; I had kicked them out way too early.
Must be cursed.
The Audit Department was definitely cursed. The team leaders tended to be respectful toward the section chiefs, yet the moment someone became a section chief they developed an uncanny, thorough streak of defiance toward the Director. Even the Minister, back when he was a section chief, had raised his voice pretty high at the Director of the time, as I recalled.
Sometimes I missed the section chiefs who used to freeze solid with tension. Only two years ago those kids had been sharp, strict, solemn, and serious—how had they turned into this?
"The work in the Audit Department is hard enough as it is, so let's just take it easy among ourselves!"
Hecate's words from back when the team leaders had still been awkward with one another in the North flashed through my mind. Hecate, this time I think you were wrong. Among ourselves might have been fine, but those bastards should never have been allowed to get comfortable.
Knock knock.
"Director. It's the Deputy Director."
"Ah, come in."
The one person who could get away with being a little rough around the edges was still perfectly respectful. If that counted as balance, then balance it was.
The Deputy Director walked in loaded down with documents, flinched at the sight of me squatting on the floor, and quietly set the papers down. Sorry for the undignified sight.
"I'll help."
"Appreciate it."
They had brought an unnecessarily huge cake, so we still weren't finished cleaning. I was pretty sure that if five people gathered, only one of them was supposed to be trash—exactly how many of us were trash, then?
"I'll reassign the duty roster."
"Fine."
The Deputy Director muttered it while gathering up bread crumbs. After pulling a stunt like this, volunteering for duty tonight was basically a strong appeal. He would probably feel slighted if I let him go home on time.
With a silent vow to reward that appeal properly, the twenty-one-year-old and the thirty-two-year-old squatted side by side cleaning up the mess made by those childish twenty-five- and twenty-seven-year-old adults.
The stack of documents the Deputy Director had brought was considerable. After three or four months without a Director, plenty of things had piled up. Even with an acting Director in place, there were always matters that required the actual Director's final approval.
"The North is still a mess."
"The damage was severe, so there's still a lot of noise."
Approvals related to the North were overwhelmingly numerous. As the region that had suffered the greatest losses in the Great Subjugation War, the aftereffects were still very much ongoing.
At least the war itself had mostly taken place beyond the borders in the northern wastes, except for the occasional counterattacks on the frontier zones. Thanks to that the territory itself had not been wrecked, but with so many supplies and personnel requisitioned from the North, it was only natural the place was still limping.
The real problem was that there was no clear supreme commander to oversee the North's postwar reconstruction. The Duke of Victory, the one who usually kept the northern nobles in line, was staying in the Imperial Capital rather than his own domain, and the single Margrave stationed in the North was too busy watching the nomads to spare any attention for internal affairs.
"Send a few of these back to the Ministry of Justice. They've been complaining that we're stealing their work."
"Understood."
Reconstruction funds were pouring in, yet no figure of sufficient rank existed to monitor and distribute that money. Naturally a lively embezzlement party broke out, and the Audit Department always showed up as the surprise guest at those parties.
It had gotten so bad that sending Audit Department rookies to the North to grind experience was practically considered the standard career path. We had thrashed so many people that even the Ministry of Justice had started issuing pitiful protests like "leave some of the credit for us."
No, but the sheer volume and the scale were ridiculous. Two or three cases from other regions combined still didn't match the size of a single northern haul. Shameless bastards. When the guy who had been goofing around next to them got dragged off to the capital, weren't they supposed to shrink a little? They had grit in all the wrong places.
"The Minister is going to love this."
Imagining someone slamming his desk and roaring made a snort of laughter escape me.
Allocating reconstruction funds was the Ministry of Finance's job. After scraping together every last coin and sending it north, if an embezzlement party erupted there, the first person clutching the back of his neck would inevitably be the Minister.
But that was fine. I wasn't the one drafting the budget—the Minister was. The Minister's suffering was my happiness.
As I flipped through the documents one by one, something strange caught my eye.
From Margrave Sorden
What the hell is this?
A request from the sole Margrave of the North. It was not something to be taken lightly, but why would a man who should be completely occupied watching the nomads want the Audit Department?
I stared at the document a moment longer, then turned my gaze to the Deputy Director. He was frowning slightly as well. Apparently even from his perspective the matter was either baffling or a headache.
"It was received early this morning. He says they're having difficulty tracking the supplies released into the northern wastes."
"You've got to be kidding me."
Of all the words I least wanted to hear, those had to come out.
Even if until two years ago we had been smashing each other in the solar plexus and the balls, the northern wastes had always held a fair number of pro-Empire nomads. That pro-Empire relationship was maintained by depositing a suitable "friendship fee."
Whether through official trade, private trade, or outright smuggling, imperial grain and manufactured goods flowed into the North through various channels. Sometimes a portion of the volume released into the wastes simply vanished without a trace.
And historically, that was never a good sign. Stockpiling supplies out of the Empire's sight meant they were plotting something they did not want the Empire to discover. Fuck. How long had it been since Kagan died, and already this shit was starting up again.
"What about the Ministry of Special Affairs?"
"They've already deployed assets to the northern side. Mukgwangdae was up there as well and only returned recently."
Right. If Margrave Sorden was requesting an Audit Department dispatch, word had already reached the Emperor's ears. After the Kagan shock, any strange stirrings in the North were the sort of news that would make the Emperor's eyes roll back in his head.
This was driving me insane. We had already spent two years tearing the northern wastes apart because we couldn't kill Kagan's blood relatives. Now another event that would mash the Emperor's berserk button and involve the North had just appeared.
"I hope it turns out to be a false alarm."
"Agreed."
I would rather Margrave Sorden had simply miscounted while tallying supplies. Then the Emperor could chew him out for not doing his job properly while secretly breathing a sigh of relief.
Hell, even if one pro-Empire tribe was stockpiling goods to beat the shit out of another pro-Empire tribe, I would take it. As long as no giant confederation like Kagan's appeared again, anything was fine.
Fuck.
A throbbing headache of a completely different flavor from the one I had gotten looking at Section Chief 1's cake washed over me. Nomad bastards never stayed quiet for even a single hour. If the damage we took from Kagan hadn't been so severe, we would have wiped them all out long ago.
I pressed my fingers hard into my brow and let out a small sigh. At least it was a good thing I had come to work today. Even if I had planned to take the day off, a request like this would have had me racing in wearing my pajamas.
"Send the detachment from Section 2."
"Understood."
We had to accept Margrave Sorden's request, of course. Since the focus would be tracking supply flows rather than combat, Section 2 was the right choice.
Wow. That bastard Section Chief 2 was dodging duty roster like this.
In exchange for a deployment, though.
It felt like someone had given the monkey's paw to the Section Chief 2 who had so passionately refused night duty. Anyway, he had managed to avoid the roster.
By the time I finished processing every document the Deputy Director had brought, the sun was already starting to sink. On my first day back after a long absence I had casually blown past quitting time.
Seriously, was the Imperial Diet never going to propose something like a civil servant labor law? Of course, considering every single member of the Imperial Diet was some family head or other, the idea was laughable.
Knock knock.
Just as I was rising from my seat to leave, the knock made my face automatically scrunch up. Damn it, what now?
"Directoooor—"
Before I could even say come in, the door opened and Section Chief 1 poked his head through the gap. The fact that the person interrupting my departure was Section Chief 1 only made me more irritated. Of all people, it had to be you bookending both my arrival and my exit.
"I have to go."
"Are you still mad?"
"If you know, then get lost."
"Hiiing..."
Making noises like "hiiing," really.
"If you don't have business, leave. Let me go home already."
"It's already late, so why are you in such a hurry?"
The sulky look on Section Chief 1's face nearly made me raise my hand again. Calm down. Getting worked up here would only delay my exit further.
"This is a present!"
While I was wrestling with my inner impulses, Section Chief 1 brought the hand that had been behind his back forward. In that hand was another enormous cake. Oh, this bastard again.
My face must have twisted on its own, because he hurriedly continued.
"A present! This time it's a real present!"
"So the earlier one was a fake present?"
"Ah."
If this one was real, that meant the previous one had been a thoroughly deliberate bit of teasing. People often confessed their own crimes when they spoke too quickly.
Anyway, watching him awkwardly dart his eyes around, I sighed softly and reached out. Section Chief 1 immediately covered his own lips with his free hand. That instinctive defense left me momentarily flustered.
I had only been going to take the cake. Had I really grabbed and yanked him so often that a simple outstretched hand produced that reaction?
...Yeah, I had done it pretty often.
"Give it here. I'll enjoy it."
"Here."
The way he still shielded his lips, clearly worried I might pretend to accept the cake and then twist my hand toward his mouth instead, left me feeling a little solemn. Honestly he had brought it on himself, but it was still a bit hard to watch.
"Thanks."
I gave his shoulder a light pat while offering my gratitude, and only then did he drop his hand and grin. If I launched a surprise attack on his lips right now, I would get to see him actually cry.
But I held back. Doing that to a kid who was giving a pure gift, not a prank, felt wrong.
"Director, so you're not mad anymore?"
"I got over it ages ago."
Earlier I had just been irritable because my departure had been interrupted. If I were still angry about something from the morning all the way into the evening, that wouldn't make me a person—it would make me a carrier of the rage virus.
"Then could you maybe cancel my duty tonight..."
"I'm leaving."
"Aaaang! Directoooor!"
I ignored the desperate calls from behind me.
I had wondered what the present was about. As expected, there was nothing pure about that guy's intentions.