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<Side Story 13>

As Tiren's reign entered its third year, the empire flourished.

The most striking change was in the economy. As the scale of the economy grew, cities sprang up around hubs where goods converged, and even the countryside—which had been relatively slow to develop—began to show signs of vitality.

Add to that the hope that anyone could become wealthy through personal effort, and the faces of the empire's citizens were brighter than ever.

But every rule had its exceptions.

There were regions that had not benefited at all from the glow of development—such as the uninhabited island where Malon and Thorvian were imprisoned.

The house that held them, save for the mould creeping into every corner and the dilapidated state of the place, remained much as it had been.

The guards, too, had changed little, except that they had grown weary of the sea's brine and seafood. They were still healthy and quietly performed their duties.

Malon and Thorvian, on the other hand, were different.

Imprisoned underground, their skin had turned pale; with each meal, they received only enough to supply the bare minimum of nutrients, so their cheeks had wasted away to the point that hollows formed beneath their cheekbones.

Given the crimes they had committed, they should have been grateful just to be alive—but the two were busily scheming ways to escape.

Having both lived as Pope and Emperor, enjoying only the finest things, they could hardly be content with coarse linen clothes and cramped single cells.

"Three years rotting here is enough."

"I agree."

At first, they had bickered and fought over a mere glance—but at some point, whenever the guards left for meals, they would put their heads together and converse.

Originally, the guards should have taken turns supervising meals, but three years had made them lax.

The two had been too busy snarling at each other to reconcile, and even if they did, there was nowhere to flee from a deserted island—so the guards had come to think that leaving them alone would cause no trouble.

"Do you truly believe that man can move the order?"

"Nothing drives people more easily than greed."

Thorvian cut off Malon's concern with a single stroke.

"So wait quietly. Once the holy water spreads across the empire, the Old Faith believers will gather as you wish and come to rescue us."

"…"

"Until then, we must make sure the guards outside suspect nothing. So don't show any anxious signs—just shut your mouth and stay still. The guards are more perceptive than you think."

"But still…"

"What is it? Don't go anywhere."

Malon was not entirely convinced, but as Thorvian said, he had no other hope, so he did as told—keeping his mouth shut and bowing his head.

Not long after, the guards returned from their meal. Thorvian closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

But his mind remained wide awake, racing.

Rupert had thought the holy water was being sold by remnants of the Old Faith—but the truth of the matter had begun in this small prison.

Though Thorvian had been dethroned, he had once been Emperor, so Tiren sent a court physician every year.

Officially, it was courtesy toward the imperial family—but in reality, it was surveillance, and both Thorvian and the physician knew it.

Thus, Thorvian treated the court physician politely.

Then, a few months ago, a small incident occurred.

[A new face, I see.]

[Y-yes, Your Majesty—I mean, yes.]

[What happened to the one who used to come?]

[Well—the court physician had other business, so I am only filling in temporarily this time…]

Though he was using honorifics because he was speaking to a former emperor, it was clear he had been dragged here against his will.

'He can't control his expression, can he?'

He also seemed to have some pride.

Thorvian decided to seize this opportunity.

He deliberately showed small, fresh wounds, received treatment, and then lavished the man with praise, deliberately looking satisfied.

[I don't understand why someone with your skills hasn't been appointed as the imperial court physician. Tiren must be very busy.]

[Y-you flatter me.]

Though he demurred, the corners of his mouth twitched at the compliment.

[If I were still in the palace, I would have appointed you as my personal physician.]

[Oh, no—]

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Thorvian gestured for him to come closer.

[Unfortunately, I am now a convict and have nothing to give you… Do you have paper and pen?]

[Yes—I do have some.]

When the guards were not looking, Thorvian quickly scribbled down the method for making holy water on the paper.

[Take this.]

[What is it?]

[I saw it in an old book kept in the palace. They say it's a potion to win people's hearts—use it well. It should make you some pocket money.]

Thorvian did not tell him it was holy water. With the temples' reputation having sunk to rock bottom in the empire, the man would only accept it if it seemed unrelated to the Old Faith.

The man looked back and forth between Thorvian and the paper. His expression was sceptical—but rather than trying to persuade him, Thorvian chose a different approach.

For this operation, he had even persuaded Malon to obtain the method for making holy water. If he got into a pointless argument with the physician and the guards overheard and grew suspicious, the entire plan would fall through.

[But still—]

[Why hesitate? The guards are coming—hide it quickly!]

Thorvian pressed him, and the man, flustered, hastily concealed the paper.

He left the prison without even knowing what he had received.

'And three months passed.'

Malon believed that once the holy water manufacturing method spread, the Old Faith believers would come to rescue him.

He was the leader of a religious foundation with followers all over the empire, after all.

If the holy water recipe suddenly circulated, the believers would grow suspicious, and before long they would realise it was the Pope's will.

The believers would seek out the one who had first spread the recipe, and thus those who learned the location of the island where Malon was imprisoned would send a rescue party—that was the idea, but…

'Nonsense.'

To hide his sneer, Thorvian turned toward the wall.

The physician who had come in place of the court physician might have ambition, but he was a man who knew his place.

The way he had been suspicious the moment he received Thorvian's paper proved that.

Tiren must have known his character well enough to send him to the uninhabited island.

'If he didn't even have that much discernment, he wouldn't have held the throne for three years.'

The man who took the holy water recipe had two choices.

Either sell the potion-making method to civilians for profit, or report the deposed emperor's machinations to Tiren and receive a reward.

'Yet that fool is lost in delusion, unable to grasp reality.'

Thorvian inwardly clicked his tongue as he watched Malon praying.

Though he had brought up the rescue party to persuade Malon, Thorvian believed the likelihood of the Old Faith remnants coming to their aid was effectively zero.

'If they had intended to rescue us, they would have moved long ago.'

Their silence for three years made that obvious.

The Old Faith had either been shattered beyond recovery, or they had abandoned Malon and installed a new Pope.

'Is it because he believes in an intangible being that doesn't exist? His grasp of reality is poor.'

Thorvian did not agree with everything Rianell said, but he did agree that religion was not to be trusted.

If God truly existed, He would not have allowed such a fool to become Pope!

"…"

Though Malon's plan was shoddy, Thorvian had devised his own scheme because he had a different aim.

'By any means necessary, I must make contact with that woman.'

To meet Rianell.

The moment he was imprisoned on the uninhabited island, Thorvian had sensed his death.

He was a being whose very existence threatened Tiren's throne.

'Yet she still lets me breathe—there must be a reason.'

He believed Tiren had some reason she could not kill him.

'If no matter what I do, I won't die, then it's worth taking the risk.'

His situation was already rock bottom.

Thorvian intended to stir up trouble until he caught Tiren's attention.

His ultimate goal was to draw Tiren's gaze, then use a meeting with Rianell as a bargaining chip.

'Of course, it won't work in one go.'

He might never meet Rianell at all—but that did not matter.

Whatever happened, it was better to have at least one person who opposed him than to rot away on this island, waiting for death.

---

"No—there shouldn't be any work right now, should there? The second-quarter closing is already over—so why are we this busy?"

"Tell me about it."

Chloe pouted and grumbled. Til agreed.

"It feels even busier than when Her Majesty the Empress Dowager once asked us to compile both tax evaders and delinquents at the same time."

Since Rianell had taken leave due to pregnancy, and Asil had also stepped away to care for her, the people at the Special Taxation Bureau had expected to be a little busier than usual—but they had never imagined a whole new mountain of work would come crashing down.

"What can you do? Apparently we're in a concentrated crackdown period on those caught selling illegal drugs."

"What does that have to do with our work?"

Having entered her third year as a civil servant, Chloe had completely shed her rookie demeanour. She had even learned to question assignments outside her regular duties.

"Well—strictly speaking, it falls under the Inspectorate's jurisdiction."

Tiren had revived the Inspectorate two years ago.

The Inspectorate audited each ministry, uncovered all manner of corruption and malfeasance, and loudly announced their glorious return.

Since then, they had served as Tiren's hands and feet, taking on all sorts of dirty work—and now they were tasked with confiscating all the holy water being sold across the empire and tracking down the distributors.

"The arrest operations are conducted jointly by the Inspectorate and the Investigation Bureau, but it's our job to confirm the fines imposed on the criminals, assess the scale of hidden criminal assets, and calculate the back taxes."

When the empire had operated under a decentralised system, a criminal's property belonged to the lord.

But under current imperial law, a criminal's assets belonged to the state.

However, those who uncovered criminal activity or aided in arrests were entitled to a portion of the seized criminal funds as a reward—in recognition of their contribution.

And since this reward was substantial, even those who were not inspectors or investigators were actively joining in the crackdown on criminals…

As a result, large sums of "holy water sales proceeds" were being confiscated from all over the country.

With the atmosphere so tense, even petty criminals were lying low for fear of being reported.

"Thanks to that, the empire's public safety has improved—so it's a good thing."

"Yes. Everyone's happy—except us."

"…"

The bureau staff knew exactly who was responsible for this situation, so they did not harbour any misplaced resentment.

'Team Leader is really too much.'

'She probably thought we'd manage somehow—but we can't do things roughly like she does!'

Even while away recuperating in the east, Rianell had written a report and sent it to the taxation bureau.

—Report on the Investigation, Confiscation, and Taxation of Hidden Assets Both Domestic and Foreign

It was a report that could by no means be described as "rough."

The bureau staff, shedding tears of blood, followed the manual laid out in the report and were busy confiscating the criminals' assets.

Fortunately, the manual's criteria were clear and easy to follow, so their work speed had actually increased.

"Still—Team Leader never rests, does she."

Mel flipped through a few more pages of the report before closing it, and Chloe took it and tidied it neatly.

"But she'll rest soon—she's pregnant."

"I suppose so."

"No—she's going to meet the former emperor soon."

Chloe and Wilbrin's barely-formed smiles froze.

"Why?"

"It seems the spread of holy water was the former emperor's doing—she wants to meet him in person and confirm it."

"The former emperor, not the former Pope? But the former emperor is in prison."

How on earth had Rianell figured out the schemes of a man imprisoned on a remote island?

"I don't know. She probably figured it out roughly."

"…"

The bureau staff fell silent.

No one doubted Rianell's judgment. No matter how outlandish her deductions seemed, in the end, her words had always proven correct.

"By the way—isn't she taking prenatal care too roughly?"

Setting aside writing reports while pregnant—going to meet the former emperor seemed like going too far, didn't it?

"Team Leader probably doesn't think it's an unreasonable schedule."

"…That's possible, I suppose."

"What kind of child is she trying to give birth to, anyway?"

Til's casual question sent a chill through the bureau staff.

"Su-surely she's not going to give birth to a child just like Team Leader, is she?"

A child with Rianell's face, toddling along.

Just when you relaxed, relieved at their normal developmental pace, the child would trip on a cobblestone and say:

'Leaving a defect on a public road that anyone may walk upon constitutes a violation of the road manager's duty of care. Under the State Compensation Act, damages may be claimed—'

"That can't happen."

"Yeah—I've lived an honest life."

Surely the empire would not be struck by another such calamity.

The bureau staff forced themselves to smile and chased away the thought.

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