Chapter 117: The Meaning of Politics (3) ── October 30, 14:00
A secret room within the Imperial Palace.
Kents Bertem, the second son of the Bertem family, had arranged a clandestine meeting.
"Chief of Staff, thank you for making time in your busy schedule."
Kents bowed politely to Grossman.
The Bertem family served as one of the pillars of the Imperial Guard alongside Commander Goebel, and Grossman was the Emperor's closest confidant, the man who oversaw them all.
"There's no need for such formality. The bond between the Bertems and me goes back a long way. We're close enough for this."
Grossman leisurely lifted his teacup.
"So, what is it?"
"…I would like to ask for your expert opinion on the current situation."
The Cartel Scandal was causing an uproar, but Grossman was far removed from the Cartel. He had no ties to them whatsoever. As the Chief of Staff, such caution was a necessity.
"My expert opinion, you say…"
However, watching stupid nobles get covered in filth was a headache for him as well. It threatened to destabilize the balance of power.
If Goebel and Kents were to fall right now, the weight of the Imperial Guard would shift entirely to one side. That was not a desirable outcome for Grossman.
"Did you take money as well?"
"I…"
Kents bit his lip slightly.
"Be honest with me."
"Only in cash. However, in the form of bond dividends—"
"They'll catch that. But shouldn't there be one more person here?"
The original plan had been a three-way meeting: Commander Goebel, Kents Bertem, and Grossman.
Kents let out a sigh.
"Goebel's request to postpone his summons was rejected, so he is currently heading to the Knights' headquarters. This is how they treat the Commander of the Imperial Guard. Are you just going to stand by and watch?"
Grossman rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. After a long moment of deliberation, he spoke.
"…Maximilian is at an age full of vigor. It's the time when a useless sense of justice or chivalry tends to explode. If you poke him the wrong way, he might just burst."
Grossman's eyes sank coldly.
"Rash intervention could invite disaster. Yet, we cannot afford to make an enemy of him. He is, after all, Zebestian's son."
"There are rumors that the Reutern family has deep ties with Maximilian."
Grossman let out a hollow laugh at Kents' remark.
"You must be truly desperate. That loudmouth?"
"I wouldn't say desperate. It's just…"
"Chiron."
Grossman cut Kents off and uttered the name.
"High Knight Chiron. I shall try calling him in."
*
── October 30, 15:00
The main gate of the Sentinel Knights.
Tiana, a first-year knight, stood there. Not far off, a procession approached—an excessively grand escort for someone who was merely being summoned.
Commander Goebel.
Stepping out of the car, he trudged forward in his Imperial Guard uniform. He looked insufferably arrogant, as if he were a general returning from a triumph.
"…"
He glanced at her briefly before passing by, heading toward the upper floors of the headquarters.
"…That bastard."
Tiana felt a surge of revulsion toward Goebel. It was a deeply personal grudge.
She immediately moved to the park inside the Sentinel headquarters. Standing still, she looked up at the window of the interrogation room.
Goebel's face appeared there.
He sat down with his legs crossed, wearing a relaxed smile. The window turned opaque just as a Senior Knight sat down across from him.
"He'll be released without a scratch."
Tiana muttered under her breath.
"Most likely. Just as it has always been."
An answer came.
Tiana turned around. It was High Knight Adria and Senior Knight Jerome.
"However, there is something even more important at stake in this matter."
Adria said as she approached.
"It's Vice Commander Anton."
They weren't fools. They weren't idiots.
Chiron. If he made some kind of deal with the Palace in exchange for releasing Goebel, the sacrificial lamb would inevitably be Anton.
"Are you certain Max will release Goebel?"
"I cannot know Maximilian's true intentions."
Adria shook her head at Tiana's question.
"But Chiron will definitely try to set him free."
Chiron's ambition was dangerous. He was the type of man who would do anything to reach 'that place.'
"Tiana. What do you think?"
Adria asked. Tiana held her breath for a moment, remaining silent.
Goebel. That man had a deep-seated grudge against her family. The reason her father and her house had nearly fallen into ruin… was essentially because of him.
"It isn't right. He must not be allowed to go free like this."
Tiana pulled a ledger from her coat.
"If Sir Chiron insists on releasing Goebel."
It was evidence she had personally acquired during the 'Dream Road' operation.
"Then we will take this to the Knight Court ourselves."
Her mentor, Jerome, let out a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He looked as if he were moved by her resolve.
"Tell me if there is anything else you need."
If they asked her to leak internal secrets, she would do it.
This wasn't an act of betraying Maximilian or the Sentinels; it was the pursuit of what was right.
"Just don't misunderstand. I'm not doing this to join your side. It's nothing more than a personal grudge."
"…I see."
Adria gave a bitter smile as she took the ledger from Tiana.
*
── October 30, 16:00
Chiron was invited to the secret room in the Palace.
His counterparts were Kents Bertem and Grossman—two giants who split the central power of the Palace between them.
"Welcome. Please, have a seat."
They greeted Chiron warmly upon his arrival. As soon as he sat down, they showered him with words and offered drinks to set the mood.
"…By the way, I'm asking just in case, Sir Chiron."
As the atmosphere grew more relaxed, Kents Bertem asked as if in passing.
"Am I also among those being summoned by the Sentinels?"
Chiron intentionally stiffened his expression.
"…I cannot say for certain. The ledgers are still being deciphered."
Kents bit his lip nervously and gulped down more of his drink.
"But you know, Maximilian is currently overusing the Knight Court—"
"This is what I think."
Grossman spoke up, checking Kents' rash comment.
"Sir Chiron, we are walking the same path."
"…"
Chiron did not answer.
Because they were clearly not.
"I imagine it's the same for Maximilian. In the end, we are all people who act for the sake of the Empire."
Chiron looked back and forth between Grossman, who was speaking of Maximilian, and Kents Bertem, who was gripping his glass with unnecessary force.
Two men touching the very heart of the Empire.
In the past, would he have trembled facing these two? Would his heart have tightened?
"Furthermore, in the course of performing our public duties…"
Grossman was a dangerous man. He was a man of a depth that even Chiron's intelligence network couldn't begin to fathom.
"…In that regard, I believe the most dangerous existence within the Sentinels is…"
Yet, strangely, he wasn't scared.
He wasn't afraid in the slightest.
"Ironically, a fellow knight."
Grossman lowered his voice.
"Shouldn't the person who can control such a knight be the next Commander? Rather than leaving things in their current state of neglect."
Chiron realized it then.
These men didn't know. They didn't even realize it themselves—that they were afraid of Maximilian.
A young knight of Ebenholtz blood, possessing talent to match, moving forward with boldness and audacity.
Maximilian, having broken out of his shell, no longer feared anything.
That fearless stride was triggering the fear of those who had much to lose.
"If you are the one who can control this anger, Chiron."
Politics is, ultimately, the act of getting what one wants.
"Then your name will inevitably be mentioned for the position of 'Knight Commander' in the future."
Therefore, this place and every word exchanged here was politics.
"…Yes."
Chiron nodded, feigning a serious expression.
"I shall see what I can do."
At that moment, the atmosphere in the secret room brightened. It felt as if the lights themselves were sparkling.
Grossman leaned back in his chair with an elegant smile, and Bertem shook his glass with a look of relief.
Chiron, once again, felt certain of his choice.
*
── October 30, 16:00
Commander Goebel waited in the interrogation room with poise. He sat with his legs crossed, as relaxed as if he were in his own office, even smoking a cigar.
Creeak.
The door opened, and a knight entered. It was a face familiar enough to Goebel that a smile immediately formed on his lips.
"Good to see you, Commander Goebel."
"Mhm. Good to see you too."
The knight sat across from him.
"Sir Fried Jen."
Fried, a sixth-year knight. He was the eldest son of the Jen family.
"I met your uncle once. He was a very fine man."
"Ah… is that so?"
"Your father must be very proud. To think you're participating in such a glorious operation."
Goebel offered smooth pleasantries. Fried simply scratched his head without much of a response.
"Well… first, there are a few matters that require factual verification."
"Ask away."
Fried spread out a financial transaction statement.
"The ledgers we obtained show evidence of Cartel funds flowing into the Imperial Guard's accounts."
"Ah~ is that right?"
He didn't rush to deny it. He maintained a stance that it was a possibility.
"However, I know nothing of it. I don't manage every single account of the Imperial Guard personally."
"I see. Then perhaps these parts…"
They exchanged a few more rounds like this.
"…It's the same for all of them. That's all I can tell you. Do I look like I'm idle enough to sit around fiddling with an abacus at a bank?"
"It's not that, but…"
This level of information could all be evaded by 'cutting off the tail'—sacrificing subordinates.
"Yes. I understand."
Fried nodded and closed the documents.
There was clear evidence, but since they couldn't prove Goebel was the mastermind, it was difficult to press further.
"Then, the next knight will be in."
"Very well."
Fried left, followed by Manuel, a sixth-year knight.
After Manuel left, it was Philip, a fifth-year knight.
The responses from the subsequent knights weren't much different.
"…It seems I've done a poor job of managing my subordinates."
Goebel led the atmosphere as warmly as possible while mentally picking out the faces of those who would die in his place.
An Imperial Guard Major? A Lieutenant Colonel? Regardless, about a dozen should suffice.
"Yes. You've worked hard. The next one will likely be the last."
The last. Goebel nodded, feigning composure.
After Reynel, a third-year knight, left, it wasn't long before—
Creeak.
The door opened, and a man walked in. Goebel's eyes followed him.
Blond hair and golden eyes. A perfectly sculpted face and physique. His uniform was immaculate, without a speck of dust.
He sat down with remarkably refined movements and stared at Goebel in silence.
"…"
A dry gaze washed over him.
The man wasn't looking at Goebel's face, but at his crossed legs.
"Mind your manners."
A low but chilling voice. Goebel's lips parted slightly. However, he did not uncross his legs.
He was sizing him up as an opponent.
If he, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, showed weakness so easily—
"Commander Goebel."
Maximilian suddenly raised his head.
He looked Goebel straight in the eye and ground out his words.
"Do I look like I'm playing games with you right now?"
In an instant, a chill ran down Goebel's spine. He tried to hold his ground, but…
"Ahem."
He eventually cleared his throat and uncrossed his legs. He didn't give up crossing his arms, however, and Maximilian tolerated that much.
"Read this."
Maximilian pushed a document forward. Goebel skimmed through it leisurely.
The material wasn't much different from what the previous knights had shown, but Maximilian asked in a slightly different way.
"Are you certain you do not know the source of these funds, Commander Goebel?"
"I certainly did not."
"You have no idea where these funds went or what became of them? You were never involved? Is that the truth?"
Maximilian's golden eyes.
His irises, which looked like shimmering deserts, were burdensome just to look at.
"…I've already explained everything to the previous knights."
"Yes. In fact, I've heard it all, but I wanted to receive confirmation."
Maximilian nodded as he retrieved the documents.
"Then I shall provide an explanation as well."
He leaned forward. His golden pupils drew closer.
"If, among the things you have said here, Commander Goebel…"
A frost-like chill settled into his voice.
"Even a single one turns out to be false."
Goebel narrowed his eyes as he faced Maximilian.
"You will have to deal with me."
Maximilian was no monster.
There was no need to grant this young knight a 'narrative' and be afraid of him. They had no evidence, so he just had to endure a little longer.
And yet…
"Do you understand?"
Just as Goebel was struggling to find an answer.
Knock, knock—
The door opened with a knock.
It was Chiron.
"Max. I have something to say. A message from the Palace."
A message from the Palace.
Maximilian maintained his composure in silence, while a look of relief washed over Goebel's face.
* * *
── October 31, 00:00
A day had passed, and the darkness of midnight had settled over the roof of the Sentinel headquarters.
I stood by the railing, feeling the cool breeze. It seemed autumn was settling in once again.
"…Max. Let's just kill some time here for now. As if I'm desperately trying to persuade you."
Chiron let out a sigh as he loosened his tie.
"The talk with them went well, but politics is truly difficult."
I gave a small nod.
"I consider it the act of suppressing the urge to vomit."
"Suppressing the urge to vomit."
Chiron gave a bitter smile.
"Yes. But it is merely suppressing it. One day, it must be let out."
For me—no, for us—that was the case.
Until the right time comes. Until my longsword holds even greater power.
I must swallow the revulsion and wait.
"But… did you actually have evidence to bring Goebel before the Knight Court?"
The decisive evidence to take Goebel's head.
The so-called smoking gun.
"Yes. The evidence already exists."
My certainty seemed to surprise Chiron.
"Could you give me a hint?"
"Commander Goebel has a bit of vanity."
"Vanity?"
"Yes. There is evidence he sees so often—every time he eats, goes to the bathroom, washes, walks, or changes his clothes—that he doesn't even recognize it himself."
The various artworks, such as paintings and sculptures, displayed throughout Goebel's mansion.
Among those items received under the guise of gifts, Pellier, the boss of the Cartel, had hidden a fatal trap within a certain 'painting.'
It was a fact discovered during the war crimes trials after the fall of the Empire.
"…Well, anyway. I expect a flood of solicitations from now on. I'm already getting lunch and dinner invites, not to mention brunch appointments."
The low-level officials of the Palace would certainly be cut off. But we had to stop at that level for now. If the power of the Imperial Guard shifted too quickly, it would be troublesome for me as well.
Factions are like living organisms; if one side dies, the other becomes excessively bloated.
"Yes. You're working hard."
"Hard work? A man with ambition should consider it a sin not to work hard."
Sshhhhh—
On the rooftop where the night wind blew, Chiron placed a hand on my shoulder.
"…Max. I'll shoulder all the filth as I climb."
Pat. Pat.
"You keep everything that is clean and look toward a further horizon…"
He patted my shoulder a few times, turned around, and headed down the stairs with a satisfied look.
It seemed he had quite a bit to drink.
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