Translator: KJ

The Northern Prison, reached after breaking through the snowfall so peculiar to Robrus.

Strangely enough, though the season was plainly summer, a blizzard swirled across this place.

"This is the place."

One of the Adversaries, who had come along as both my escort and my watcher, took the lead as he spoke.

For the record, the post of Prison Warden in Robrus was anything but trivial. As Varmil's Great Purge gathered force, the power of a warden who oversaw part of the 'Labor Reeducation Camps', where countless Political Prisoners and Reactionaries were wrung dry, would only swell by the day.

"Open it. We have a distinguished guest from the Empire."

GWOOOOONG—!

The prison's massive iron gate swung open.

Together, we stepped inside.

"But, Sir Knight. Where on earth did you learn Robrus?"

The Adversary walking alongside me asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

These three assigned to guar⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠d me were friendly toward me. Rather than the wariness one might show a knight, their eyes held something closer to a strange admiration.

"Robrus is a nation of great importance, one that sways the affairs of the whole continent, is it not? For a knight of the Empire, learning its language is only proper courtesy, and a mark of refinement."

My answer drew broad, satisfied smiles from the Adversaries. They seemed quite pleased by my respect for their homeland.

"Sir Knight, are you perhaps aware? That we Adversaries were in fact created as an organization to stand against the knights of the Empire."

As we walked the corridor, one of the Adversaries went on, proudly.

It was rather like saying to your enemy, 'you are my enemy', but, well.

"Yes. Of course I'm aware. It makes me quite wary, indeed."

"Hahahaha. Then that's a relief."

As parties destined soon to become each other's chief enemies, we shared this odd conversation and laughed together.

Diplomacy, after all, is an elegant theater of donning masks and stroking the other's pride.

Guided by the Adversaries, I reached the prison's visitation room.

A space walled on all sides in iron, with a chill hanging in the air. Beyond the heavy iron table set in its center, Petrin the Warden and the lawyer─Yelena, in a crisp suit, sat side by side.

"A pleasure to meet you."

At a leisurely pace, I made my way to a chair and sat down.

Just then, one of the Adversaries jerked his chin toward Yelena and asked, displeased.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Ah. I'm Warden Petrin's lawyer."

Yelena answered calmly, but the Adversary's eyes narrowed sharply.

"Lawyer, my ass...... Get out. Now."

They moved on her menacingly, about to drag her out, but I raised a hand and stopped them.

"Ah. It's fine. Leave him be."

The Adversaries halted, caught half in motion.

"In the Empire, the right to the assistance of counsel is duly guaranteed. If anything, this is the Imperial way, so it's far more familiar to me, and I prefer it."

On the contrary, I told them.

"Might the Adversaries wait outside for a short while?"

A courteous request, yet one that brooked no refusal.

"Yes. Understood."

The Adversaries left the visitation room willingly.

The place was bound to be wired with listening devices in any case.

Thud.

As the door closed, the air settled.

I let the smile fall from my face. Fixing my gaze on Warden Petrin, gone rigid across the table, I asked.

"Warden Petrin. Are you aware of the terror attack at the Imperial Central Station, decades ago?"

"......I kno-"

The moment Petrin opened his mouth, Yelena swiftly cut him off. She whispered something at his ear, then spoke to me in fluent Imperial.

"Sir Knight. I would first ask you to make the charge clear: precisely how my client is connected to that incident."

Petrin wore a blank l⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠ook, seemingly unable to understand a word of Imperial, but I gave a faint smile.

"You speak Imperial quite well, don't you?"

"My language skills have nothing whatsoever to do with this matter."

It was theater, played for the listening devices that surely littered the room.

"Well, very well. Warden Petrin's grandfather carried out a grievous act of terror at the Imperial Central Station. Afterward he fled east and settled in Robrus."

At my words, Yelena shot back with a deliberately sharp edge.

"So you mean to say that you would now hold my client accountable, by Guilt by Association, for a grandfather who died decades ago?"

"You could put it that way. How could we leave untouched the bloodline of a traitor who threatened the Empire's security?"

And so it went, attack and defense, thrust and parry. Warden Petrin, for his part, understood not a word of the Imperial we traded, and could only steal anxious glances at Yelena.

"Sir Knight. Are you aware? Under Article 92 of Imperial law, even in a case of treason, there is no basis for punishing a 'foreigner' without direct evidence of participation. That provision applies only to 'Imperial citizens'."

At the sight of Yelena standing her ground so firmly, trust gradually took shape in Petrin's gaze as he watched her.

After all, in this moment she was the only one on Warden Petrin's side.

"......A foreigner?"

I furrowed my brow.

"Yes. Warden Petrin is no longer an Imperial citizen. Surely you know that."

At that, I even let slip a hollow laugh, as if taken aback.

"You've studied Imperial law as well?"

"I'm versed in nearly every legal system on the continent. Should you attempt to detain my client by force, Sir Knight, I will lodge a formal diplomatic protest with the Empire."

I glared at her for a moment, then turned my eyes obliquely to the side. To Warden Petrin. Looking at him, I spoke with my eyes.

Found yourself a good lawyer.

The warden hastily bowed his head.

"......You're well versed in the law. And yet a knight's authority can, at times, transcend it."

"In the Empire, perhaps so. But as I said, this place is-"

"Robrus?"

"Yes. Does Robrus look like the Empire to you?"

As though shooting a courtroom drama, we traded our lines amid a taut tension.

Petrin's whole face was still frozen with tension, yet before he knew it a measure of relief had spread across it at Yelena's bold composure.

"......Hmm."

And so, our plan was more or less falling into place.

Petrin would come to believe Yelena was his ally, and Yelena would have, in her hand, the chess piece that was the Northern Prison Warden.

It was an outing that cost me precious time, but the balance sheet wasn't bad at all.

* * *

"Hooooo......."

Zerov paced his office in irritation, blowing out cigarette smoke. The floor was already strewn with burned-out butts, and the ashtray, unable to hold the ash heaped on it like a mountain, scattered black powder all around.

"......Fuck."

Zerov rested a hand on the window frame and ground his teeth hard.

Should he keep his capable right-hand man Petrin alive? Or, for the cause of the nation, for the secret pact with the Empire, should he willingly offer him up as a sacrifice?

As a confidant of the supreme power, the anguish he had to bear was this heavy, this brutal.

"His Excellency, General Secretary Varmil......."

Had His Excellency always reached his decisions in the midst of such grueling torment?

A fresh swell of reverence rose in him.

"Haah."

Just as Zerov, easing the fire churning inside him, moved to set another cigarette between his lips.

Rrrring─!

The direct line on his desk rang shrilly. Zerov snatched up the receiver.

"......"

A report came through the receiver. As Zerov turned the sentences over carefully in his mind, his eyes went wide enough to burst.

"......Is that true?"

Zerov asked again, as if he couldn't believe it.

At his subordinate's continuing words, a tangle of bewilderment and elation welled up in him.

......

A train transfer station, set in the rugged highlands on the northern edge of the Eastern Alliance.

Rails ran dead straight, threading precariously across a sheer gorge, and on either side the terrain opened its jaws in cliffs thousands of meters high.

Whoooooosh───.

There, where a knife-edged wind churned, ready at any moment to seize a man and drag him down, Zerov stood beside Maximilian, watching the far end of the rails.

"Sir Knight Maximilian."

Zerov ventured, broaching the subject obliquely.

"I see you struck the Northern Prison Warden from the list."

Maximilian nodded, unmoved.

"Yes. A certain lawyer made a fair point, and on top of that, the fellow let slip a little something at the very end."

"Let something slip?"

The wind tugged at the hem of Maximilian's uniform, sending it flapping. He turned to Zerov and, for a moment, wore a gentle smile.

"That the Northern Warden is your man, Commissar."

"......"

Maximilian's softened manner left Zerov a little flustered.

"You might have given me a word in advance."

Zerov cleared his throat with effort and replied.

"Ahem. My man or not, for the sake of diplomacy between our nations I'd have been more than willing to hand him over."

"Just as one would expect of the Commissar. Still, a courtesy of that order is something I ought to see to for you myself."

As the two men's exchange went on,

Thoom─. Thoom─. Thoom─.

Shattering the silence of the gorge, a thunderous mass of steel came on, shaking the earth. A train, blasting its whistle from beyond the dark clouds.

———Screeeech.

It came to a stop at the platform.

"These are the first hundred and fifty, to be handed over up front."

Zerov said, gesturing at the train.

"They've been granted special authorization by His Excellency General Secretary Varmil. Thirty-three are engineers and intellectuals who once defected from the Empire; fifty-six are prisoners of Imperial origin held at the Northern Labor Reeducation Camp; the rest are their families."

Maximilian raised his eyebrows.

"Well done. The Empire, too, will soon deliver the Reactionaries of Robrus origin, as promised."

Creeeak─.

The train doors opened, and prisoners and engineers, haggard and worn, filed out in a line.

One of them, gathering his belongings as he stepped down, caught sight of Maximilian's face. In that instant he recoiled, trembling with terror.

"C-Commissar Zerov!"

He moved fast. Desperate to live, he flung himself at Zerov. Clinging to the legs of his trousers, he wailed in anguish.

"Commissar Zerov! I am a man who swore to lay his bones in Robrus! I have always revered the ideals of Robrus, and twenty years ago I crossed over to this land and devoted my whole life to the East's technological progress!"

"No, no—"

The sudden turn threw even Zerov, of all people.

"I-I want to stay here! Even if I die, I want to be buried in the soil of Robrus!"

"Y-you bastard......."

"Commissar! Commissaaaaar——!"

Zerov tried to wrench his foot free, but the man clung on for dear life and screamed.

"Long live His Excellency General Secretary Varmil! Long live the great Robrus Eastern Alliance! Long live People's Commissar Zerov! Long live! Long live!"

At some point, as that desperate cry rang out across the platform.

Maximilian moved without a sound.

"......"

He came over indifferently and seized the man by the scruff of the neck with one hand. Then, as if clearing away trash, he hurled him over the cliff's edge beside the platform.

AAAAAAAAARGH───

The engineer's body sailed up with a whoosh, then plunged down below the cliff. His scream receded into the distance. The shriek was swallowed up, and the sound slowly faded.

Everything sank into stillness.

Whether he had struck the ground and broken apart, or met his death impaled on the branches of some mountain tree, no one here would ever have any way of knowing.

"......"

Maximilian. Having thrown his own countryman to his death without so much as a blink, he brushed the dust from his glove and spoke to Zerov.

"Commissar Zerov."

His dry voice swayed in the mountain wind.

"There's no need to suffer such a worthless voice for long."

Before he knew it, Zerov swallowed dryly.

"......You seem to be of far too me⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠rciful a nature, Commissar."

Maximilian's Golden Eyes flashed, reflecting the moonlight. As if they saw straight through Zerov's own feeble heart.

"To undertake great things, one must sometimes set such mercy aside."

Only then did Zerov understand.

Why everyone in the Empire feared him.

Why he was called something like the 'Monster of Ebenholtz'.

"Isn't that so?"

Zerov gazed up blankly at Maximilian, who was smiling bright as a crescent moon.

"......"

A face so handsome it drove Zerov mad with envy. Perfect proportions, a beautiful physique.

And yet, contained within that sculpted exterior, the most twisted madness and an uncontainable bloodlust......

It surged into the deepest reaches of Zerov's heart.

* * *

The Eastern Robrus, the warden's office of the Northern Camp.

The warden summoned the lawyer Maxim.

"You called for me?"

Once Maxim took a seat, the warden gazed at his face for a long while.

"......"

After a suffocating silence, a single short word dropped from the warden's lips, just like that.

"Thank you."

That word, like a sigh, was steeped in genuine relief and gratitude.

"Have you heard the rumor? That Human Butcher, that bastard Maximilian, threw the Empire's prisoners off a cliff, they say."

The warden ran his hands over his face and shuddered.

"......So he did."

Yelena, thinking of Maximilian, sank into strange reflection.

He was a man who moved solely for his own convictions.

But what, truly, was his great cause?

He seemed to serve the Empire out of pure devotion, yet something in him was missing, something Yelena could not yet fathom.

"If you hadn't held Maximilian back that day...... one of them would surely have been me."

The warden wiped at a cold sweat, the terror of that day stil⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠l not gone from him.

"Maxim. You said you wanted the post of Labor Reeducation Camp Warden?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Good. A post of that level I can certainly grant you. But there is one condition."

Maxim straightened in his seat and waited for the warden's next words.

"Word about you has been spreading lately, all the way up to the Party leadership. That you're a righteous man, one who stood his ground even before the Empire's monster, Maximilian, and brought him to the negotiating table."

Indeed, Maxim's exploits showed signs of being featured not only within the Party but in the state newspapers as well.

The brave lawyer who had stood and fought against the Empire's devil. As a propaganda tool to stir up the masses and rally the ranks, he had already received interview requests from several reporters.

"And so, what I want from you is—"

The warden lowered his voice and whispered, conspiratorially.

"Become one of our comrades."

Comrade. It meant joining the faction of 'Zerov', one of the men who truly held power in Robrus now.

"What do you say?"

At the tense question, Maxim made a show of deliberating, but only for a moment.

He answered with a resolute face.

"Yes."

This had been her purpose from the very start.

For she had returned home for the sole purpose of bringing down those damned bastards in the Party leadership, and the General Secretary.

"I will become a comrade."

Playing out the loyalty of the lawyer Maxim, Yelena bowed her head, gladly.

~~~

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