Lawful Murder (2)
Gustav's imperial palace, Marsak, swarmed with women who had come to become the Emperor's maidservants.
How could this be…
Even with Havitz's reputation spread across the world, over three hundred people had applied.
"Do you know what kind of man the Emperor is?"
I asked a sharp-chinned, cold-looking woman waiting in the left line.
"Hmph. Same to you. Let's not talk about it. We're competitors now."
I'm not the same…
Unlike the other candidates, Abella had come to kill Havitz.
"For the money?"
The woman turned back with a frosty look.
"What else? No matter your background, the pay's good, and the benefits are great. Above all, you become a maid of the imperial palace."
A commoner's worth was set by nobles, and being a palace maid was a post even nobles didn't sneer at.
"But he's a tyrant, isn't he?"
Everyone looked at Abella, and the air froze like the Arctic.
"Hey, what did you just say?" The captain of the guard leading the maids narrowed his eyes and strode over.
I'll be fine. I'll be fine.
The most important thing for Abella's project was to learn to love Havitz.
If Alphapishi lost its original value, the Law would warp—and then everything would end.
"Say that again. You'd better pray my ears are wrong."
"Havitz is a tyrant." The guard drew his sword at her disrespectful answer.
"If you kill me, you'll die too."
The blade stopped inches from Abella's throat.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'm not here to serve the Emperor. I came to see Mister Havitz personally."
"You… you know the Emperor?"
"If you doubt me, report it to your superiors. Tell Mister Havitz that Abella is here." She didn't have the nerve to actually do that.
This was awkward.
And if, by any chance, what she said was true, she must absolutely not be rude.
Let someone else handle it. If I get involved, I'll get killed.
The guard sheathed his sword and returned to his place, grunting.
"Keep quiet. There's a procedure for everything."
He made as if to walk away, and Abella stuck her tongue out at his back.
A woman who'd been watching the absurd scene with stunned eyes said, "Are you crazy? Why would you lie like that?"
She was quick-witted—the sort of candidate expected of a maid—but if the truth came out she'd be killed on the spot.
"I have to survive first. And that guard won't be able to verify it—his head's full of birds."
The woman snorted and held out her hand.
"Let's make it official. I'm Katenia from Manaka. I'm thirty-two. I'm your elder, okay?"
"Yes. I'm Abella. I'm twenty-three."
After introductions, Katenia asked, "You're really bold. How can you insult the Emperor so easily?"
Honestly, Abella didn't know.
Mister Havitz.
When she heard of his acts—more like outrages—she'd grit her teeth, but in a corner of her heart…
—It's okay. It's okay.
When he patted her back and said it was okay, she'd felt, for the first time in her life, like she had a fence around her.
"Well… it's true."
Abella shrugged and lied.
"I'm scared too, honestly. But he's old, so I don't expect to be taken as a concubine. Oh, sorry."
Unlike Katenia, Abella was of the proper age to be brought to Havitz's bed.
"It's fine. I'm actually aiming to be a concubine."
"What?"
Even Katenia, who loved money, would have changed her mind at the thought of sleeping next to Havitz.
"Team 4, enter!"
When the guards opened the palace gate, thirty people poured through the arch.
As befits one of the largest manmade structures in the world, the road through the palace seemed endless. At last they stopped before a broad central administration hall.
They've come.
Another spy from Kashan had secretly infiltrated the venue for the first interview.
Assassin of Empress Uorin: El Crouchi.
Once a dollmaker, he'd learned black magic from an eastern puppeteer and transformed his body into a doll.
He had two lives left. He'd split his life across porcelain dolls and lived for over two hundred years, but even that was nearing its end.
Well, he had lived long.
On the day he left Kashan, Uorin had said, "Sorry, Crouchi."
Crouchi, whose flesh hadn't been reattached, tilted his head and the mechanical device filling his insides whirred.
"The Empress apologizing? That's unthinkable."
Uorin gave a wry smile. "We've known each other a long time. Whoever moves the to Marsak, after thinking it over, it can only be you."
"It's an honor."
Crouchi's role was to transport the thing.
"The biggest problem is still Balkan. He reads battle ki; we can't send many assassins."
"Plural. He can't read a single ki, but he'll notice two or more."
"That's right. The more the number, the clearer the ki. Alphapishi is currently being trained to eliminate hostility toward Havitz. So there's no problem with you infiltrating."
"The real issue is the day of the plan."
If Alphapishi revealed ki on the day, adding him to Crouchi would make two, and Balkan would detect it.
"At the moment Alphapishi kills Havitz, I must be dead."
It had to remain a single death. Only Crouchi, with multiple throats, could manage that.
"You may have to die twice." If that happened, death would be permanent.
"To deliver to Alphapishi, we must go through a 'reset.' That process is dangerous."
"I know, Your Majesty Empress."
"So, Crouchi." Uorin approached him. "It's not because you have two lives that I entrust this to you. I believe that if it's you… you might make it out once. Don't die."
Crouchi's wire-made face twitched and his mouth curled.
"It is the life the Empress gave me. Even if all my porcelain dolls break, I will not resent it."
"That's not what I meant."
Crouchi made something like an eye-smile, but without eyelids it only looked like huge, fixed eyes.
"Don't act like a girl around me."
Uorin puffed out her cheeks. "What was that?"
"Until the day you return, preserve your body."
After leaving Kashan, Crouchi assassinated Marsak's maid and took her place.
"My name is Orphe."
A master of disguise, he imitated not only appearance but personality and trivial habits perfectly.
Even Abella—who knew the operation assumed he'd be at the first interview—couldn't find Crouchi.
He must be watching me. When Abella glanced around, Crouchi furtively shifted his gaze.
It's better if we don't notice each other.
The interviewers who'd been waiting approached Team 4's women for physical checks.
They felt them to confirm they were female, and any woman with tattoos was disqualified.
"Pass. Next stage."
Six women were eliminated, and the remaining twenty-four, escorted by guards, arrived at a small waiting room.
"Congratulations on passing the first interview."
A clerk with a goatee stood on the podium holding a roster.
"Of course, you'll still have to go through the second, third, and fourth interviews and the final test."
The candidates' eyes hardened.
"Thirty will be chosen in the end. One in ten will be cut—competitive, indeed. But we will also make special selections at this gate."
"Special selection?"
The candidates murmured.
"Is there anyone among you who wishes to personally serve the Emperor at the throne?"
No one wanted to wait on a murderer, and a cold silence fell.
"This is not coercion. But the final selection will be by lottery. If you can't guarantee you'll pass…"
"I'll do it."
All eyes turned to one place, and Katenia stammered in astonishment.
"You— you…."
Abella shrugged. "I told you, it's like this."
The clerk checked the number on her name tag and flipped the ledger.
"Hmm—Yus Abella. From the gypsies…"
Nothing particularly unusual was apparent.
"Go through that door. The maids will recheck you, and if nothing strange is found, you'll be accepted immediately."
"Yes. But I have one request."
As if asking for a dying person's last wish, the clerk closed the ledger and lifted his chin.
"Speak."
"Perhaps Havitz—the Emperor—might remember me. Could I give him notice in advance?"
"The Emperor?"
The clerk looked around and said, "Are you out of your mind? If so, I can't pass you. This is a matter of life and death."
"Your life is the one at stake, clerk. If you leave me here like this, who knows what trouble will come later."
Damn it! Feeling the same as the captain of the guards, the clerk frowned. "Then how do you know the Emperor?"
The candidates watched with pale faces as Abella took in the scene and smiled brightly.
"Childhood friend."
"My lord! The Mistress of the Maids requests an audience."
The gate to the Great Hall opened and an old woman in her seventies crossed with a grave expression.
Balkan dozed on the throne, snoring, and a military map was spread on the floor.
Havitz and the other four were sitting together, quietly playing with military figurines.
"Rumble! Bang! Cannon boom!"
The comedian Zeta yelped.
"Ahh! My eyeball popped out! Put it back—quick! Bring the eyeballs!"
The battle doll Natasha moved the sergeant figure.
"Die! Die! Die! Die!" Internal Affairs King Smode crumpled the map.
"All the women of the Paris Kingdom will be mine! If we narrow it to women in their teens and twenties, roughly 4,470,000 people…"
The Mistress of the Maids cleared her throat. "Ahem, Your Majesty the Emperor."
Havitz tossed aside his model ship and turned his head.
"What? I'm busy. This is a state meeting."
"Is there perhaps a girl you once courted named Yus Abella?"
"Who? Hmm."
If the question were a lie, her head could be off—but the Mistress of the Maids kept her beak shut like a little bird.
If she dies, she dies.
Don't imagine the future.
That was the first requirement of a Mistress of the Maids in the Gustav Empire.
"I don't know."
The Mistress bowed her head.
"Very well. If later…"
Balkan turned over and mumbled in his sleep. "You know, that girl I met before. Said she was going to open a flower shop or something…"
Havitz opened his eyes wide and sprang to his feet.
"Yus Abella!"
The others turned to him at once.
"That's right! It was Abella! But why? Why are you suddenly looking for her?"
He could barely recall the name, but he'd never forgotten the promise he'd made to that girl back then—not for a single moment.
"I did not seek her, my lord. A girl who entered the maids wishes to have an audience with you."
"Abella came to see me?" Havitz's shoulders trembled.
"You've finished your flowerbed!"