MPMM 85

MPMM

Chapter : 85

He definitely had a taciturn persona back when he was the head of the Dark Guild.

No—
even in the original story.

Perhaps because he had shed a layer and was now openly laboring as a criminal, Samuel Morty had become surprisingly talkative.

Or maybe…

“Right, right. If a witch does good work, you should praise her.”

“This rookie’s pretty decent. We were short on research materials since almost all the spirit mages disappeared—this is great!”

“Ahem. I’d like to point out that I’m not valuable only as a spirit mage.”

“True, true. Maybe it’s because you’ve lived the criminal life longer than us, but Assistant Saliche, you really handle the tasks we give you quickly and efficiently.”

I wondered if he had picked it up from the chatty criminal mages around him.

I’d been worried I might have to separate them if they started fighting, but fortunately, they got along well.

They didn’t engage in pointless scheming either. Watching them put their heads together to discuss how to serve their sentences more efficiently, it felt like they had blended nicely into the Winter Palace atmosphere.

In any case, Samuel Morty hadn’t become both the Dark Guild leader and an information broker for nothing—he showed quite a knack for accounting as well.

Especially—

“Look here, Administrator. You can’t fall for things like this. This is the ledger from the kids in West District Block 35, right? They pull these little tricks all the time. If you’re not careful, you’ll be taken for a ride in no time.”

His ability to sniff out criminal fraud was immensely helpful, making him genuinely useful to the other staff as well.

If there was any chance of rehabilitation, the answer was simple: throw them into hard labor.

Although Samuel Morty had been utterly overwhelmed in front of us, he had been the head of a truly large Dark Guild within the Empire, so the ripple effects of his capture were significant.

[Illegal Gambling Dens in the Capital’s West District Raided!]
[Gang Known for Rampant Violence in the Southern Provinces Turns Itself In…]
[Duke Ashwood Exposes Smuggling Ring!]
[Young Duke Jamoty Reports Art Forgery Syndicate!]

With a pillar of the criminal underworld torn out by the roots, it became much easier to uproot the thorns that other nobles had long considered eyesores.

Of course, in the case of the Jamoty Ducal House, all they had done was quietly sell out someone they had been secretly sponsoring.

Her Majesty the Empress Consort is furious, after all.

Most of the follow-up actions reported in the articles weren’t actually handled by the Winter Palace.

In particular, the crackdown on the gambling dens in the capital’s West District was carried out under imperial orders and commanded by the Fourth Prince, who had recently been assigned a palace of his own.

Don’t feel too disappointed. If anything, think of it as proof that I favor you all the more.

Before issuing the order to the Fourth Prince, the Emperor had personally summoned us to say as much.

It seemed Coco, the white cat, still hadn’t been granted permission to be touched, but simply curling up nearby appeared to satisfy her. A quiet joy lingered around the Emperor’s eyes.

I suspect this will earn me a scolding from the Second Empress Consort instead, so at least you should understand me. Isn’t that right?

As he spoke, casually rolling a toy toward Coco, the Emperor looked genuinely peaceful.

More than that—he looked relaxed, as though he had stored up enough strength to afford such leisure.

In any case, we didn’t misunderstand the Emperor’s intentions.

The First Empress Consort was already seething over the collapse of the Dark Guild and the complete confiscation of its assets.

He’s probably trying to spread out the direction of her anger.

That meant the Second Empress Consort would have a more complicated situation to deal with, but she wasn’t a fragile woman. I trusted her to handle it well.

And if things became difficult, we were always ready to cooperate.

Meanwhile, First Prince Charlie had not been idle while we were away from the capital.

He wasn’t exceptional, but neither was he incompetent—he carried out the tasks assigned to him quite diligently.

After Francis Ashwood departed the Summer Palace, a clever assistant from a viscount’s family had stepped in and filled the vacancy admirably.

Unlike before, this assistant wasn’t chosen by the First Empress Consort, but personally selected by Charlie himself.

She was a genuinely capable talent who had attended the Academy alongside Wilma.

The First Empress Consort had been displeased, dismissing her as the second daughter of an insignificant viscountcy with nothing but a long history to its name—but she had permitted it solely because the woman was Wilhelmina’s academy peer.

In short, she still hasn’t given up on Wilhelmina as Charlie’s fiancée.

Since the tea party hosted by the Marchioness of Hanella, rumors of Wilma’s unrequited love for Cassian had largely died down.

Wilma had even written me a letter about it.

After Samuel Morty began working at the Winter Palace, remembering Wilma’s situation and having him search for medicinal herbs quickly turned out to be the right decision.

The illness afflicting Wilhelmina’s grandmother, the Dowager Duchess Lopez, wasn’t incurable—but the herb required to treat it was extremely difficult to cultivate, making it hard to obtain.

The disease could only improve after consuming large quantities of the decoction at once, yet because the herb was so rare, most patients were forced to rely on palliative care instead.

Naturally, the House of Lopez had searched extensively, but relying solely on manpower had its limits.

Even a ducal house couldn’t mobilize people endlessly.

However, unless something was buried impossibly deep underground, a trace of light would always reach it somewhere.

For Samuel Morty—once an information broker—tracking down the location of such herbs was hardly difficult.

He complained that ever since, he’d been flooded with letters from palace physicians and doctors alike, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his grumbling.

He admitted readily that his spirits—once used only to gather gossip about love affairs or to be exploited at gambling tables—finally seemed to have found their proper place.

Though he likely didn’t realize it, this also became strong evidence for us that his crimes could indeed be repaid through labor.

In any case, with good news piling up exclusively for the Winter Palace, the First Empress Consort grew increasingly anxious.

What should have been a trivial train inspection had turned into a major catch, while trade with the Snow Country—undeniably important—had been handled so cleanly that it barely made waves.

Worse still, her son Charlie had suffered through several grueling days in the process, something she surely found unacceptable.

And on top of that, there was Coco—the white cat beloved by the Emperor—whose very existence must have grated on her nerves.

Her anger had grown beyond what could be soothed by merely smashing expensive teacups.

By the time we reached the end of February, the faint touch of spring was already in the air.

Though he had only just begun his duties, the Fourth Prince proved quite intelligent—befitting someone once dismissed as a mere desk-bound scholar.

Thanks to that, the workload of both the Sun Palace and the Winter Palace had lightened, if only slightly.

At the very least, the Emperor now had enough time at midday to host tea time, unnecessarily eating into my work hours while showing off Coco.

“She’s put on quite a bit of weight, hasn’t she? When you brought her in, she could barely even open her eyes.”

“I’ve heard how lovingly you’ve been caring for her, Your Majesty. Ian—no, Prince Cassian—seems quite fond of it as well.”

I deliberately used the wrong form of address once before correcting myself, and the Emperor chuckled softly.

“Who doesn’t know you’re engaged? You can call him as you usually do. And as for Cassian…”

The Emperor tossed a playful remark toward the Second Empress Consort, who sat quietly beside him brewing tea.

“I don’t think he’s the type to misunderstand such things—but what do you think?”

“They’re quite devoted to each other, aren’t they? I think it’s enough if he looks kindly upon Assistant Saliche. You were just saying something pleasant, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor laughed heartily and nodded.

Nearby, Coco batted playfully at the soft toy mouse the Emperor had made for her.

Beside them, the Sixth Prince Joel followed cautiously, watching Coco with open adoration.

“Are you really that happy, Your Majesty?” the Second Empress Consort asked.

The Emperor didn’t answer—but the look he sent was enough.

He was longing for something.

Perhaps not a memory of the past, but something he once dreamed of and never managed to attain.

With that thought, we all drank the tea the Second Empress Consort had brewed so exquisitely.

I still couldn’t claim to truly understand tea, but perhaps because the brewer’s touch was so skillful, it tasted wonderful to me.

The crackling of the fireplace, the gentle sunlight filtering through lightly drawn curtains.

Even the cool breeze tinged with spring drifting through the slightly opened window.

It felt like proof of a fleeting moment of perfect peace.