The Emperor's Children (4)
The Emperor's Children (4)
Still, the escape itself was not especially difficult.
With the count blown away like that, his territory's chain of command was thrown into severe confusion.
On top of that, the count had been traveling with underworld figures without telling anyone, and his body had been blown to pieces when the bombs went off. Because of that, he was initially treated as "missing," not "deceased." His closest aides could tell where he had gone and what had happened to him, but very few of them could say it aloud.
Consequently, the count's domain began searching in earnest for his killer only after his death was firmly confirmed—three days after the explosion.
From what I heard, they barely managed to identify him by the clothing found with his shattered body, along with a few scraps of skin from his face.
"......."
And I was reading about the whole process in the newspaper.
"You chose a remarkably grandiose method."
When I expressionlessly turned a page, Lucas, beside me, said that.
Naturally, I had changed clothes the moment the count died and left the county.
When a domain was large, it held more people, and productivity rose accordingly. After the Industrial Revolution, factories went up everywhere and the era of mass production had arrived, but operating those factories still required vast numbers of workers. And most of those workers were the domain's residents.
No matter how much of an era it was where wealthy commoners—the so-called Bourgeoisie—built factories, hired people, and raked in even more money, nobles and commoners still began from fundamentally different starting points. Nobles who had owned land and money from the start simply founded their own companies and built their own factories. Even when a commoner tried to build a factory, the land it would stand on almost always belonged to a noble.
That was why nobles with vast territories like the count were almost always impossibly rich, far beyond what even the wealthiest commoner could rival.
"It wasn't even an automobile: a chain of explosions in a carriage. Anyone would see that as a murder."
Of course, Lucas's expression as he said it did not particularly suggest he was blaming me. The lunatic did not much care how someone was killed.
Still, if Lucas himself were to kill someone, he would almost certainly choose to cut them down with his sword.
When a person of the count's rank was murdered, it usually meant the culprit had backing so overwhelming that even the count's family could neither oppose it nor openly express suspicion.
And the only people above a count were a duke and the emperor.
Even a duke was not always in a stronger political position than a count. The only formal distinction was whether the titleholder carried imperial blood; in the size of their territories or their practical power, a count could well surpass a duke. "Generally," of course, a duke's power was far greater. It was the same principle by which a baron could sometimes hold more power than a count.
Even so, a duke did not possess enough social standing to kill a count lightly. In the end, a duke was still just another noble of this nation. When the realm was already sharply divided between the Emperor's Faction and the noble faction, killing someone without even trying to bring them to your side would only hand strength to the opposing faction.
Then, circumstantially speaking, the only person who could have killed this count was the emperor.
The problem was that it was only circumstantial, and there was no proof whatsoever.
Ever since his predecessor's time, the imperial power had been rock-solid. Solid enough that he could afford to advertise, "defy me and you die," just like this.
Moreover, the Emperor's Faction's position was far too entrenched for anyone to blame the emperor simply because they "suspected" him, without clear evidence.
In truth, the only ones who would believe it were nobles who already loathed the emperor to an extreme.
When the emperor ordered me to eliminate the count, he surely already had proof of the count's crimes in his hands. If the count's associates came to demand answers, the emperor could simply produce that evidence and that would be the end of it. Unless House Crowfield wished for a fate "more disgraceful than death," they would have to keep their mouths shut for at least the next several years.
So thoroughly that even the count's daughter would not know why her father had died.
"A boiler explosion differs in character from an explosion caused by bombs. Even if it happened in an automobile, the use of bombs would have been discovered immediately."
All vehicles powered by steam engines carried an internal boiler. On top of that, they were loaded with coal mixed with Mana Stone, or with pure Mana Stones in bulk, so there was always a risk of explosion. In fact, such explosions did happen from time to time.
The very automobile Lucas and I now rode in carried the same risk. But a boiler or Mana Stone explosion left a different pattern than an ordinary gunpowder bomb. Well, I had no specialized knowledge myself.
When I feigned indifference and answered, Lucas shrugged.
"No, look, I wasn't trying to say that sort of thing... Well, never mind. Father probably wanted this to serve as that kind of 'warning' anyway. I can see why Jaden is so fond of you. ... Though, from the way that fellow talks about you, it is a little unsettling."
When Lucas raised his hand as if to pat my head, I quickly swatted it away.
*
"Excellent."
Looking at me, the emperor said that.
"You carried out my intentions well, even though I did not specify the method of death. Though I trust you would have followed my orders regardless of what method I prescribed."
"...... Thank you."
The emperor's words were both true and false.
Considering my ability to retry as many times as it took until I succeeded and produced only the successful outcome, theoretically I could kill someone by any "method" the emperor demanded. And I could also slip out safely without anyone noticing.
"You are indeed my daughter. Your father is proud."
"......."
He had ordered a twelve-year-old child to kill someone, and now he praised the child who returned after carrying it out.
Furthermore, recalling the character of the emperor as shown in the game, those words were most likely sincere. The emperor was not the sort of man who felt compelled to lie.
"Thank you."
So I simply offered my gratitude in return.
"You have endured much on your long journey. I shall hear the detailed report after you have rested from your travels."
"Understood."
I bowed my head deeply once more, then turned on my heel and left the room with the soldierly stride I had practiced many times.
Every movement was measured and graceful. Speech was always in formal honorifics. My expression was blank. That was the "character" I had settled upon. Because everyone around me was a monster who read emotions as if peering straight into your mind through your face and posture, it was a kind of protective measure I had devised to shield myself as much as possible.
And even if the first few years had been uncertain, I was confident that over the past several years I had managed it passably well.
The emperor had practically killed the count in broad daylight, but presumably he had no intention of crowing about it to others himself. Not so much as a guard or a maid stood in the Audience Chamber.
Well, I questioned whether there existed anyone on this island who could defeat the emperor one-on-one in battle in the first place.
So those of us who regularly entered and left this family-only Audience Chamber were well accustomed to opening and closing the doors ourselves.
"Ah, move aside! I need to see Father."
"Whoa, please calm yourself, Your Highness. At this moment, Sylvia is in private audience with His Majesty—"
"I'm Father's daughter! Whoever is inside, surely I have the right to enter!"
"His Majesty commanded that no one else be admitted, did he not?"
"...... Ah......."
Just as I opened the door and came out, that exchange was playing out.
"Your Highness."
I immediately inclined my head slightly toward the "princess" before me.
And that "princess" directed a somewhat flustered look at me in return.
To explain once more, Lucas and I were both "the emperor's children." Naturally, our official titles were princess and prince.
However, that did not mean all those "children" actually received treatment as true princesses and princes. Officially adopted though they were, they held no succession rights to inherit the empire.
The true succession rights to this empire belonged solely to the genuine "imperial child" who actually carried the emperor's blood, that is, the real "princess" standing before my eyes.
"Children" like Lucas and me were, practically speaking, little different from the emperor's private assassination unit. Well, I supposed he did think of us as real sons and daughters apart from that, but the point was that our purpose was different.
Unlike me, whose hair color and eye color were both utterly black, whose appearance could not even insincerely be said to show a trace of imperial blood, this genuine princess possessed an aristocratic look, with long, dazzling golden hair cascading down and gently curled at the ends.
Well, I supposed my own looks were reasonably aristocratic in their own way. Still, compared to a princess who had been born a member of the imperial family, the gulf was enormous. No matter that I had been raised under the emperor since the age of five, the contents inside me were practically an adult man; I barely managed to maintain the semblance of a soldier by dredging up memories from my time as a military trainee. I was nowhere near the level of a princess who radiated imperial refinement even when she threw a tantrum like a child.
And when I saw her fair skin, so pale it seemed never to have caught sunlight, and her clear, deep blue eyes, the thought genuinely crossed my mind: yes, this child really was the emperor's daughter.
"......."
For the moment, in this world, the princess who was the same age as me, Alice Fangriffon, glared at me.
Her eyes were full of jealousy. And she had good reason.
No matter that she was a princess, she was still a child.
At an age when she would still long for more of her father's affection, that father had gathered a crowd of children who shared not a drop of his blood, called them his "offspring," and spent far more time with them than he did with her. It would have been stranger if she were not angry.
If anyone was abnormal, it was me, who at that age could go out, assassinate a man, and come back as if it were nothing.
"...... May I go in now, then? Your private audience is over."
And the person toward whom Alice was especially sharp-tempered was precisely me.
We were about the same age, and of the same sex. But everything we did was the complete opposite, and I never received even the occasional scolding that fell on her. For a child's heart, that was plenty of reason for jealousy.
...... And, in this respect, the situation resembled the original relationship between Claire and Alice.
Hm.......
"Yes, of course."
I spoke courteously to Alice and shifted aside, clearing the doorway. While I was at it, I opened the door for her as well.
And that action of mine seemed to incense her further. Understandably: when you were furious and the other party stayed calm, it only made you feel worse. It was akin to the reason why composed villains in subculture media often seemed so infuriating.
Strictly speaking, I was indeed a villain at that moment.
So this child would later grow up and reconcile with Claire, so the story went.
But that had been the event in which Claire died.
.......
Surely that did not mean I would die as well?
"......."
Alice glared at me one last time, lifted her chin, and strode past me.
After she entered, I closed the door slowly, carefully. Just before it shut, I thought I heard a voice cry out, "Father!"
"You're prickly with all your other siblings, yet you're far too soft on her."
Lucas grumbled.
......A man of twenty-two, jealous of a twelve-year-old child. Really.
"I feel sorry for her."
Explaining in exhaustive detail was too much trouble, so I simply said that.
"Huh......."
However he interpreted my words, Lucas let out a disbelieving sound.