episode_0045

About seven weeks ago.

The heart of the Alcyone Federation’s capital.

“Clear the way!”

“His Majesty is passing through!!”

Drake IV, having finished worship at the National Church cathedral on the outskirts of the city, was returning to his palace.

As usual, he was proceeding along a grand avenue, accompanied by a lavish procession.

‘Finally, it’s here.’

It was an annual event known to everyone now, a tradition that had continued since the time of the previous king. For sixty-odd years, it had been like this every Sunday.

Even though the war was in full swing, this tradition hadn’t changed, and today was no different.

The King and Queen, the royal family, and their retainers, having attended Mass together, would now return to the palace to rest.

Yes. That was definitely the plan.

If they could make it back properly, that is.

“Comrade Churchill. Everything is ready.”

“Shall we begin now?”

Winston Churchill, an agent dispatched from the Elaine Kingdom, and his comrades were watching the procession with cold eyes.

“Those foolish royals. They’re practically advertising for someone to kill them.”

“Isn’t it easier for us? We don’t have to collect movement patterns or create long-term plans.”

“Well, that’s true.”

The event, taking place every week at the same time, along the same route, was an invaluable opportunity for them.

They only had to pick their desired location, prepare thoroughly, and wait for Sunday.

What a simple assassination this was.

“Comrades. Are all the bombs ready?”

“We’ve got them strapped tight, so don’t worry.”

“We can detonate them at any time. Just give the order.”

The area had long since been turned into a powder keg by the organization.

The basements of the buildings along the road were filled with barrels of gunpowder, and bombs had been buried in the road under the guise of repair work.

There were also several directional booby traps disguised as liquor barrels and one-time-use mortars aimed at this location.

No one would be able to escape from here alive. Unless they were truly blessed by the heavens.

Nevertheless, since there was always a chance of something unexpected, they were here as a last resort.

‘This would have been a difficult job without that book.’

The book written by Ishmael was a great help.

What would have originally ended with simple bomb planting had been thoroughly prepared for in this way.

[The method for creating directional bombs is simple. Attach sturdy metal plates to the back and sides of a container filled with plenty of gunpowder. Place items that are good for creating shrapnel, such as iron beads, in the front. Then, connect a fuse, and you’ll have a wonderful makeshift mine.]

[Even if you can’t use fire due to rain, there’s no need to worry. With the right chemicals and ceramic/glass containers, you can create a makeshift detonator. The ingredients for that are, first of all, alcohol and–]

All sorts of secrets were written in the anarchist cookbook.

Ingenious knowledge that Winston Churchill himself, as well as the agent who had served as a veteran non-commissioned officer, had never seen before.

It was so unusual, but conversely, it was also incredibly useful.

Since it was a technique that even experts didn’t know, wouldn’t others fail to recognize the danger even if they saw it?

Even if you put a claymore made from an oak barrel, most people would think of it as a liquor barrel, not a bomb.

Of course, the more it was put into practical use, the more people would gradually become aware of it… but that didn’t matter.

Since everyone in this place was going to die anyway, how would the information spread?

“Then, let’s all say a final prayer. We have to ask the Goddess to make it go well.”

After praying together, Churchill and the agents exchanged greetings and headed to their designated positions.

“Let’s meet again later and have a drink together, comrades. It’s on me.”

“Sounds good. Then I’ll buy the snacks.”

“We’re going to drink until we pass out, so no one is allowed to back out!”

They talked about the future, but everyone knew.

That they would never meet again.

From the beginning, this mission was not a plan that assumed a return alive.

‘How can we survive with bombs strapped to our bodies?’

They would detonate all the gunpowder and booby traps they had buried and hidden. And as a final touch, agents with bombs strapped all over their bodies would end the King’s party with a suicide attack.

The success rate of this tactic was neatly inversely proportional to the survival rate.

In other words, it meant that everyone would die and it would all be over.

Even if they didn’t die, they would be captured as part of the criminal gang and subjected to terrible torture. In any case, there was no safe and happy ending.

‘Still, it’s fine. As long as I can get revenge.’

But it didn’t matter.

Churchill and the others all knew what they were getting into from the start.

Lose their lives? Their lives would end? So what? Their lives had already been screwed up for a long time.

‘I’ll give you back as much as I received, or even more.’

Drake IV, that damn bastard, had caused them to lose their families.

Their brothers and sisters in faith were persecuted and lived lives that were no different from curses.

They had lost their property and rights and were screaming in the shackles of oppression because of those who believed in heretical faiths.

This was the perfect opportunity to repay that grudge.

What did it matter if the price was death? If it was mutual destruction with their enemy, then that wouldn’t be a bad death either.

At least they could proudly tell their families in purgatory. That they had come to avenge them.

–Whistle!

A whistle was heard.

It was a signal. A signal that meant it was time to start.

Churchill steeled his heart and took a deep breath.

One, two, three.

He counted slowly in his head and then threw the Molotov cocktails he was holding in his hand.

“Take this, you damn tyrant!!”

With the sound of glass breaking, fire spread across the avenue.

Immediately afterwards, fire and oil seeped through the paving stones, detonating the gunpowder underground.

–Kwaaaang!!

“Kyaaah!”

“It, it’s a terror attack!”

“Guards! Call the guards right now! His Majesty the King is in danger!!”

A carriage exploded and was obliterated. The corpses of horses and people fluttered in the sky. Clothes torn to shreds, streaks of blood, and pieces of flesh flew in all directions.

Screams and shouts were rampant due to the sudden situation. Thanks to that, the public’s attention and focus were completely diverted.

Not missing the opportunity, Churchill ran with the fuse of the gunpowder bag hanging from his chest lit.

“God is great–!”

At the same time as grabbing onto the carriage carrying the King.

The fuse burned all the way down.

With a grand explosion, the owner of the throne, the heir to the throne, and Churchill’s soul left this world.

* * * * *

“Wow, this bastard is amazing.”

I was genuinely impressed. Because of the achievements of none other than a naive young man.

“He really killed them all at once. I thought one or two would survive.”

They all blew up.

The royal family of Alcyone, the nobles, the streets, and even the future of the country, all of them.

It seemed that one whole block of the city center had been wiped out because of how thoroughly the preparations had been made.

Because the damage was so severe, it was even difficult to recover the remains and identify the bodies.

Since the damage was that bad, the mastermind had not been revealed either.

There was testimony that someone had thrown a bomb, but they didn’t know anything about their face or affiliation.

In short, it was a perfect crime.

“Kalia, how many personnel did we mobilize?”

“That’s the responsibility of the local branch, so I don’t know exactly, but wouldn’t it be at most several dozen people? If you only count the field operatives, it would have been around 10 people.”

“If 10 people destroyed a royal family…”

“It’s a very profitable deal.”

Kalia, who was taking grapes and putting one in my mouth and one in her own, replied with satisfaction.

It seemed that even she thought it was quite a great achievement.

“Besides, most of them weren’t even our organization members, right? At this point, the only loss is practically the cost of buying gunpowder.”

Indeed, most of the personnel deployed for the terror attack were people secured locally by the Alcyone branch.

Civilians who shared the same faith and harbored a strong grudge against the royal family.

They had been trained and taught for a few weeks, but they were by no means personnel belonging to our organization.

In the end, the only people on our side who died were Winston Churchill and one other person.

Compared to the operations that the organization usually carried out, this was a very minor loss.

Originally, in such terror attacks, local strongholds were often devastated if they failed.

“What will the order of succession to the throne be now?”

“A man named Count Louis is probably the highest-ranking successor… He’s 17th in line.”

Low.

Being 17th in the entire school meant that you were a pretty good student, but being 17th in the class meant that you were just in the middle to lower ranks.

Among the narrow range of ranks divided within the royal family, 17th place was no different from 20th or 30th place.

In other words.

“There will be a bloodbath for a while.”

“Isn’t that a good thing for us?”

“Well, yes, but.”

From now on, a bunch of fools who didn’t care about legitimacy would be gleefully waging a civil war.

What if other forces joined in?

It would be a chaotic mess.

Exactly as we predicted and hoped.

“If the Bill of Rights is released at the right time, there will be more disputes and factions because of its contents…”

The Bill of Rights, a work that I had appropriately mixed Magna Carta and the Bill of Rights to create.

If we use this to properly organize the structure of the civil war, there will be no need for further intervention.

They would be busy cutting each other’s throats for at least several years to several decades.

“Instead, shouldn’t we be paying attention to other issues now?”

“Is there another problem?”

“Rather than a problem, it’s a change in the political situation. Take a look at this.”

The paper that Kalia, munching on a cream-filled bread, handed over had the following written on it.

[Navarre Kingdom and Artium Empire, signs of invading the Great Plains.]

Are they increasing the front lines again?