"Damn it, let's haul faster. If I get my pay docked again I'll be sucking my thumb for dinner—"
Milo urged in an anxious voice. Even a mad dog, it seemed, feared a pay cut.
"Sure, let's haul fast."
When I nodded, Milo brightened and followed.
We left the basement storeroom and headed for the auditorium. The auditorium was still busy with ceremony prep. Countless guards worked like ants.
I calmly looked over the people gathered there.
"What're you doing? Not hauling."
Milo asked abruptly. He already had a full load of materials on his back. He really did fear the pay cut.
"Tsk, how long would it take to haul all this."
"When you're told to do it, you do it—"
"When a man's head is poor, his body suffers."
"Why're you suddenly picking a fight?"
I clicked my tongue and turned my gaze. Just then, I spotted them near the auditorium's back door.
"Oh, found them."
"Found what. We've got to haul, I said."
"There's a faster, easier way, so follow me."
"A faster, easier way? What do you—"
I headed straight for the back door. They were slipping out, blending naturally among the guards. Once out of the auditorium, their pace quickened. The materials on Milo's back rattled noisily.
"We're up against Bedrick with the Inspection Squad in his pocket. Slack off even a little and he'll bite our heads off, I'm telling you."
"Then we just earn a merit."
"It's a hauling job. What merit is there to earn."
To Milo's dumbfounded question, I pointed at the men heading off in the distance.
"Catching the Republican operatives who've slipped into the ceremony."
"Republican operatives?"
Milo looked that way, then looked at me like I was a lunatic.
Just then, the men stopped at an open lot where several carriages were parked. There were guards there who seemed to manage the carriages, and the men blended in among them naturally.
"......You're saying they're actually Republic men?"
"Yes. Gathering in a secluded spot — doesn't it look suspicious at a glance?"
"Just from that? If they really are operatives, we should call for backup—"
"Hey there, Republic friends!!"
I gave a little wave of greeting. The guards' gazes swung our way. Not particularly friendly looks. One of them stepped forward.
"Who's there? State your unit."
I stated my unit and name boldly.
"Milo of the 42nd Squad."
"No, why my name—"
Milo grumbled, scrunching his eyes.
"What business does the 42nd Squad have here?"
"A couple of rats came this way, you see."
"Rats? Haven't seen any."
"Strange. They definitely came this way—"
I added, looking at the two standing at the back.
"The Republic's rats."
At the mention of the Republic, the guards' faces hardened fast. They all gripped their weapons tight. The air swelled as if about to burst.
"Ah, there they are."
At my pointing, one of them stiffened slightly. Of course, it quickly turned into a dumbfounded look.
"The Republic? What the hell are you on about. We've served in the Corps over three years."
"What would a fresh recruit know. Well, that's why you got stuck in the 42nd Squad."
"Your acting's natural. The Republic, all right."
"This is one completely crazy bastard. You got proof?"
They asked in menacing voices. Milo, too, looked at me anxiously and asked,
"You've got proof, right? You do. Tell me you do."
His eyes were quite desperate.
'Proof, huh.'
Unlike black mages, who get a brand on the heart from a demon, or barbarians with their bizarre tattoos, Republic men had no outward markers. The Republic's work was airtight. Catch those two and investigate them back to their parents' parents, and nothing would turn up. Physical evidence was, in practice, hard to find.
"I don't have any."
"......What?"
"No proof, I said. The Republic's a sneaky bunch. Finding physical evidence is basically impossible."
"Y-you pulled this bullshit without any proof? This is a real crazy bastard—"
Milo's face went white.
"But there's something surer than proof."
"Surer than proof?"
"Yes. You two, there."
I called to the two hiding at the very back of the guard cluster. The two looked at me with dumbfounded eyes. A subtle tension flickered through them.
Republic men bore no outward markers, but on their minds was branded the mark of conviction. To them the Supreme Leader was a father, an emperor, and a god all at once. They held the Supreme Leader in the highest regard.
So—
"Say 'the Supreme Leader's a son of a bitch.'"
The two's pupils trembled faintly. Still, they passed off their furrowed brows as natural irritation.
"What kind of brutish nonsense is that?"
"Say 'the Supreme Leader's a son of a bitch.' Can't do it?"
"Why should I follow your orders, you rookie bastard."
They responded by the book, putting up logic.
Just then, Milo stepped boldly forward.
"The Supreme Leader's a son of a bitch. A cocksucker. A parent-killing degenerate bastard. A goddamn fuuuucking moron."
Milo spat out coarse curses. Curses raw enough to make even me wince.
No Republic man could endure it. The operatives' brows crumpled.
"Why, you bastard! How dare you — the Supreme Leader, who is as the heavens!"
Unable to bear it at last, the Republic men drew their swords. A truly splendid provocation. The problem was—
"Th-they were all operatives?"
It wasn't just the two — all of them were operatives. Six auras leveled at us.
The Republic's knights were notorious. Trained brutally from childhood, a Republic knight was vicious enough to make even a black mage shudder. And there were six of them—
"My luck's good."
The corners of my mouth lifted high.
"You bastard, rushing to your death."
"Hold on."
I lightly raised a hand. The Republic men wore sneers.
"Begging for mercy? Too late, you bastard."
"All right, I'll count to three. Drop your swords before then. One."
"What? This guy's got a real hole in his head."
Hahaha! They laughed aloud.
"Three."
I pressed my thumb hard against the right side of my chest.
"A curse!"
They hurriedly kicked off the ground. But it was already too late.
***
'Damn it, they really were Republic men—'
Milo bit his lip, watching the enemies charge. True to Republic knights, their bearing was no ordinary thing. Each one sharp as a honed blade.
'We're fucked.'
Muttering a curse, Milo lowered his stance and raised his fists.
Just then, a chill sensation came from behind.
'A curse?'
When he turned, he saw black blood rising like a wave. Milo had once been dragged to a black-magic professor's lecture for a curse demonstration. This was a curse thick enough to make the one that professor had cast feel like child's play.
Before he knew it, the curse blanketed the surroundings. At its touch, the knights' muscles went limp, refusing to take force. The Republic's vaunted knights froze like stone statues. Saliva and blood streamed from their eyes, noses, and mouths. Terror surfaced on the knights' faces.
'Who in the world could cast such a vicious curse—'
Just then, someone stepped loftily out of the curse. It was Grave. He strolled lightly across the curse-soaked ground as if on a walk.
'A b-black mage? Hadn't he used divine power before?'
Just then, Grave swung his sword. Tok — like a ripe fruit dropping, a Republic knight's head rolled across the floor.
"Ngh!"
Veins bulged on the Republic knights' hands. They seemed to strain with all their might, but their swords didn't budge an inch. Grave walked among them, moving his sword. Tok, tok — heads rolled across the floor like ripe fruit.
This wasn't a battle. It was a one-sided sentence.
Just then, Milo's eyes met Grave's. He'd just killed six people, yet Grave's eyes were dry and blank. As if this were nothing at all.
'Wh-what the hell did this guy used to do.'
Milo swallowed dryly without meaning to.
"Grab a suitable one."
Grave ordered curtly, pointing at the heads.
"Yes! Understood!"
Nodding at once, Milo suddenly wondered.
"Just one?"
Catching Republic knights disguised as guards was an enormous merit. Six, no less — bring them all and it'd be a fat reward. Grab only one—
"Bring too many and you get promoted, don't you."
It was a joke Milo couldn't understand.
***
"Not a single one moved."
Bedrick ground his teeth at the still-heaped materials. It was a load two men couldn't possibly move from the start. He'd meant to give an excessive order and pin the blame, but they hadn't moved a single one.
'Caught them good.'
Bedrick side-eyed the woman beside him. Seira, of the Inspection Squad. Even squad leaders trod carefully around the Inspection Squad. And here, with the ceremony tomorrow, to be caught slacking by them — no matter the 42nd Squad's madwoman, this time they wouldn't get off clean.
"At this rate it could even disrupt the ceremony."
Bedrick floated the remark, watching the Inspection Squad.
Seira checked the materials expressionlessly. Then she wrote and ticked something on the documents she always carried.
'They're finished.'
Just as Bedrick grinned, a composed voice came from behind.
"Ah, there you are."
When he turned, there stood Grave and Milo. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Milo was white as if he'd seen a ghost. A most satisfying reaction. But not Grave. He looked refreshed, as if he'd been off taking a nap somewhere.
Bedrick raised one corner of his mouth.
"I distinctly said this was an important duty, yet you abandoned your post without leave. With the ceremony tomorrow, leaving the materials piled like this."
"If it's so urgent, clear it yourself. You look like you've nothing to do."
"What—"
Bedrick's face crumpled. He forced down his agitation and spoke.
"I'm quite sure I gave the order to you."
"Ah, I had urgent business."
"Is there business more urgent than ceremony prep?"
Bedrick asked, side-eyeing Seira. At that, Seira spoke in a flat voice.
"Abandoning your post without leave is a serious offense. With the ceremony tomorrow, it's subject to aggravated penalty. You'll need a justifiable reason."
'As if there could be a reason graver than the ceremony.'
Bedrick muttered inwardly, watching him. But Grave was composed throughout.
"I caught a rat. A very big rat."
"You abandoned your post over a rat?"
Seira, expressionless all along, narrowed her eyes. Grave nodded calmly.
"Yeah."
"That isn't a sufficient reason."
"More than sufficient, I'd say. It's a hefty rat."
"A hefty rat?"
"Milo."
Grave gestured to Milo. With a stiff face, Milo untied the bundle slung over his shoulder. Thud. What fell out was a human head, stained mottled with red blood.
"Not enough?"
Grave asked in a flat voice. To Bedrick, the question sounded like an offer to bring more if it wasn't enough.
"E-enough."
Ashen-faced, Bedrick hurriedly shook his head.