Hopeful Voluntary Retirement (3)
The mayor grumbled but got the job done properly. He stuffed livestock entrails into the gaps between the clothes. He was careful not to overfill them, lest they ooze out from the seams, leaving just enough slack. Soon enough, the upper and lower garments were sufficiently padded out.
Finally, Cain pulled out a pig's bladder. He crammed the contents inside and twisted the end tight. Perched atop the collar of the upper garment, it was roughly the size of a human head. He slathered glue on what passed for the head and attached Goetz's severed hair and beard to it. Glue went on the wooden frame too, securing the head and the upper and lower body parts. Then came the iron chains. Blood-soaked sacks covered the loose joints at the waist, hands, and feet, wrapping things up.
There was some awkward separation between the torso and legs, but once he bound it all tight with ropes, it looked convincing enough.
"Couldn't we have just used a wooden doll?"
"You see human-shaped wooden dolls lying around everywhere?"
Cain replied flatly.
"Go fetch six soldiers. Have them wait with the transport wagon outside the town hall."
The mayor did as instructed this time too. Six tense-faced soldiers hurried over. Soon, they stared down at Goetz—his head and beard shorn bald—and the grotesque, stinking dummy sprawled on the floor.
"Congratulations, all six of you."
The soldiers gawked at Cain, clueless.
"Load this lump into the transport wagon and hightail it to Axenburgh without looking back. You can make it in three days and nights flat. If anyone asks why, just drop my name—Imperial Security Agent Cain. Here's some advice: from this moment on, you're targets for Goetz's thugs. If you wanna live, run like hell."
"Pardon...?"
The soldiers looked dumbfounded. Cain turned to the mayor, who bellowed,
"Do it now! Before I dock your pay!"
The soldiers bolted with a clatter.
Three hours later, a passenger wagon rolled leisurely out of the town hall. The Imperial Security wagon, emblazoned with its insignia, still sat abandoned in the back courtyard.
And a week after that, the wagon reached the imperial capital.
No matter the nation, mention "intelligence agencies," and folks picture shadowy secrecy, dark torture chambers, and elite covert operatives. People are always shocked by the Imperial Security Bureau headquarters. The back boasts a sprawling garden; the front faces a bustling market square. Even the first floor is open for free visits and tours.
Of course, there was a time when the mere mention of the "Imperial Security Bureau" made everyone tremble. But that's ancient history—over a decade ago. Back during the war with the Republic. And after the dramatic armistice, when the northern Demon King's forces were swelling and the empire fought desperate battles for survival.
For the first time in ten years, Bureau Chief Verneis found himself nostalgic for those days. Back then, the Security Bureau building had been tucked away in a more discreet spot. He could curse out his subordinates without issue, kick and whip them, and no one batted an eye.
But not anymore. So he had to hold back. Even when a prisoner's shorn head reeked of booze, the rookie agent's stench assaulted the nose, and some senior jackass kept shuffling forward and back.
"Prisoner Goetz von Bearinggen, reporting as ordered."
Cain managed a stiff salute. The lined-up agents and guards snickered.
Verneis swallowed his rage and asked, "Why'd you let him drink?"
"He said his head hurt."
"And why'd you drink?"
"My head hurt too."
"Guess I need a drink myself."
Verneis sighed. He glared at the smirking agents.
"Lock this bastard up already! What're you waiting for? Got all the time in the world?"
The agents grabbed Goetz. Chief Verneis eyed Cain.
"You. My office. Now."
He barked at the female agent too. "You—go wash up and rest!"
"Hey? That's not fair," Cain protested. "I wanna wash up and rest too."
"You think you're the same as her?"
"Isn't this discrimination?"
"You look discriminatable to me!"
The female agent strode forward. Her grimy face, bloodshot eyes, unwashed body's stink—if her parents saw her, they'd try to lop off Verneis's head on the spot.
"Chief. I don't know what's going on, but me too..."
"Shut up and wash!"
Even as Verneis roared, her eyebrow didn't twitch. Cain finally waved her off.
"The chief's telling you."
"Understood."
She spun on her heel. Only then did Verneis catch the booze wafting from her.
"Hey. Don't tell me she..."
"Cut her some slack. She drank too."
And sure enough, after five steps sideways, she toppled with a thud.
"Snoooore..."
"I'm gonna lose my mind."
For all his bellowing, Verneis wasn't a total hardass. He offered Cain a chair, after all.
"Know what this is?"
Not heartless, sure—but still pissed. Verneis jabbed at a stack of letters.
"No clue."
"Protest letters. Lawsuit filings. Demands for explanations. What the hell did you do in Maxiburg?"
Cain narrowed his eyes. Focus blurry. Verneis ground his teeth.
"Fine. You're tired, I'm tired—let's go in order. Why'd you make the mayor do hard labor? Why'd you smash the Maxiburg transport wagon?"
The last part was news to Cain.
"The transport wagon got smashed?"
"You smashed it—don't play dumb with me."
"Wasn't me. Probably the Maxiburg guards ditched it and ran. Any of 'em dead?"
"Nope. Word is, Goetz's bandit thugs ambushed 'em, and they ditched their gear—helmets, everything—and bolted. So spill it, step by step. Why the Goetz dummy as bait? Why leave the Security Bureau wagon in Maxiburg?"
"No other choice."
Cain shrugged.
The tale of capturing bandit knight Goetz. The mayor's pleas to cart him off quick, fearing reprisals. No choice but to send the fake meat dummy ahead as bait, switch to a cargo wagon, and the three of them ride cozy back home.
"You... you little shit..."
Verneis grabbed Cain's nape with his right hand, rifling letters with his left.
"I wondered why the hell we got billing from every major city... You swapped wagons and horses in every damn town? And not rentals—straight-up purchases?"
"Cheaper than the capital."
Cain shrugged again.
"Rentals leave records. Purchases don't."
"The guy who doesn't want purchase records bills it all to the 'Imperial Security Bureau'?"
"What, no cash on hand."
"The booze? Don't tell me..."
"They threw it in with the wagon in Hasburg. Goetz was suffering, Whetstone was beat, my throat was dry. Good's good, right?"
Verneis's face drained white.
"Don't call her Whetstone, I told you, damn it...!"
"Oh. So Second-in-Line Heir to the White Blood Knight Order it is?"
"Whose dog from a founding noble house is named that?"
"'The Security Bureau knows only rank. No nobles, no commoners.' Isn't that an imperial decree?"
"Then at least call her Agent Lily!"
Verneis clawed at his hair.
"Cain, you punk. I don't ask much. Just some dignity. For fuck's sake, dignity! How many times have I told you?"
"Chief."
Cain shook his head.
"You know I'm just an ignorant hick from some backwater. Never learned that stuff. Got lucky on the exam and crawled here. Babysitting our beautiful, wise, valiant Agent Lily? Nailing imperial criminals with elegant swordplay like the other departments? Hauling 'em back in style? Can't do it."
"You got no gravitas."
Verneis's tone had softened to mere chiding.
"Gravitas?"
Cain clenched his fist. He figured he was pretty drunk himself. But now the anger boiled over.
"You know what I saw and dealt with in Maxiburg? And it's not just there. Step half a day's ride outside the capital these days—no one fears the empire anymore. Not the royals, not the law! That bandit Goetz abuses duel laws to scam folks, and the fine margraves won't utter a word! Castle? The bastard's got one! Moat, drawbridge, the works!"
"Watch your mouth. Don't cross the line."
Verneis's eyes flashed. But Cain pushed further.
"The line? You're talking lines? Village thugs scare country bumpkins more than the capital Security Bureau—what line you mean? Goetz is big-time, sure, but there's ten more like him in the empire! Add the small-fry knight thugs, over a hundred! We gotta pull this crap every time?"
"That's why punks like you roll in the gutter! Enforce order! And you know that, yet you get Goetz hammered and drag him here?"
"We'd be dead otherwise—me and Lily!"
"Enough. Drop it."
Verneis clicked his tongue.
"Go wash up and crash. Tomorrow, submit a written apology. Getting cocky in front of the chief..."
Rules were rules. Insolence like this couldn't slide. But Verneis wasn't heartless. Deep down, he regretted pushing Cain too hard. Capturing Goetz was a job no agent wanted. He was an imperial knight with a military medal, after all. Without ironclad proof, even the Bureau couldn't touch him.
Plus, Goetz was a thief. And the Bureau's agents—minus the clown in front of him—were all from big and small noble houses. Meaning, if identities leaked, their family lands faced brutal payback. Goetz's band might number under a hundred, but the bandit knights' alliance was real enough. That was why the Bureau branded their collusion "treason against the state," overreaching or not.
Knock knock.
The chief's reverie broke. "What."
His adjutant entered, face stiff. No Security agent lacked poker face; this signaled trouble.
"Urgent dispatch."
Of course it was already opened. All mail to the Bureau passed security screening. With razor blades laced with snake venom hidden in envelopes every other fortnight, it was standard.
"What is it."
"Petition for Goetz von Bearinggen. Over a hundred nobles signed."
"Crazy bastards."
Verneis waved him out. But the adjutant stayed.
"More. The Minister of Justice..."
"Please no."
"Says release him without proof. Immediately."
"Tell him we've got testimonies. Over ten cities hit by these bandit knights. Reports of confirmed damages from each..."
"That's the petition's content."
The adjutant gritted his teeth. Cain's buzz vanished.
"Not victims—they claim it was mere 'policy differences.' Says they made 'legitimate payments' as investments to Goetz's knight order, not robbed like bandits."
Verneis gripped the desk. "So that means..."
"We got zero grounds to hold Goetz."
"Maxiburg?"
"Mayor signed the petition. Sent a letter too. Says nothing happened."
"How much more?"
"Pardon...?"
Verneis pulled a hidden desk bottle, uncorked it, swigged. Face flushed.
"How much more dogshit news."
"One left."
"What."
The adjutant bit his lip. "Goetz von Bearinggen's suing the Bureau. Illegal detention. Especially Agent Cain."
"Can I smash his skull right now?"
Verneis swigged again. Cain rubbed his face.
"Chief Verneis Irowachi of the Security Bureau."
"Gives me chills, punk. Who calls me that all formal now...?"
Hand paused mid-swig. Cain's face was strangely serene.
"I'm quitting."
"Quitting what."
"The Bureau. I can't do this anymore."
Moments later, agents passing the chief's office fled in shock. Every piece of furniture inside came flying out.