I Won’t Let the Execution Battalion Die, ~Even If the Empire Falls, We Want to Survive~ - Chapter 5: The Witch of the Ink Swamp

Upon returning to Imperial Ceremonial Battalion headquarters, I reported the completion of Lord Grien’s execution.

“That concludes my report.”

“Very good.”

The one who nodded was a young woman who appeared to be in her early thirties.

Her rank was major—the battalion commander of the Imperial Ceremonial Battalion. She was the female boss of us executioner officials. She was also a beauty who looked good in glasses, and incidentally, the mother of one child.

She called herself Filia Gehenbach, but this was an alias. Due to the nature of our easily-resented duties, many of us registered with the military under false names.

Her nickname was [Ink Dealer]. As the only field-grade officer in the Ceremonial Battalion, her main job was to authorize various documents with field-grade authority.

The battalion commander looked at me and smiled with what seemed like exasperation.

“But you really poisoned him using that method?”

“Yes. I never said a word about the sweets containing poison, so there was no falsehood in the duel’s content. That duel was strictly ‘whoever makes their opponent consume poison wins.'”

“That may be so, but…”

The battalion commander rested her chin on her hand.

“What would you have done if Lord Grien had asked for confirmation: ‘Are these sweets poisoned?'”

“In that case, I would have honestly answered no and fought the next round with poisoned sweets.”

I was relieved that this world also had things similar to Hotei mushrooms and Calabar beans.

The Calabar beans I’d planned to use in the third box came from a distant region, and I’d had considerable trouble obtaining quality ones. I should save these carefully.

The beautiful battalion commander scratched her head with a rough gesture.

“Your work has no gaps. Perhaps I should have assigned you from the beginning.”

“My apologies, I was away for a while.”

“It’s fine, I was the one who ordered that other mission. Unconventional soldiers like you are quite useful.”

The battalion commander chuckled.

“An ordinary officer wouldn’t use tricks in a duel against one of the Empire’s premier nobles. They have professional military pride, and if their schemes were discovered, they wouldn’t know what kind of retaliation they might face from the deceased’s family or supporters.”

Well, that’s probably true. Not my concern though.

I sighed.

“Retaliation would be troublesome. While I certainly deceived him, I conveyed no falsehoods and violated no articles of Imperial Dueling Law. It was his oversight for not properly examining the dueling implements.”

The whole idea of a death row criminal dueling with an executioner was absurd to begin with. If we were going to execute by duel, we should do it Aztec-style. That way the executioner would never lose, so we could kill with confidence. What an idiot emperor.

(T/N: “Aztec-style” refers to a ritual combat where a captive, tied or restrained and armed with a blunted weapon, fought elite warriors with real weapons, an execution disguised as a duel.)

“Even if they performed an autopsy, they’d only detect poison in the stomach’s liquefied contents. They wouldn’t be able to tell whether it was contained in the baked goods or the tea.”

Anyone would get thirsty eating twelve of those dry-as-dust cookies.

If Lord Grien had noticed at the time, “Why doesn’t the opposing girl have anything to drink?” he might not have died. His arrogance in thinking special treatment was natural had dulled his powers of observation.

But if the first round hadn’t been decisive, we’d just start the second round, so it didn’t really matter either way.

I said with irritation:

“To think I lost a drinking buddy over such a boring man fills me with indignation.”

“Meinen was absent due to heavy drinking five times. Wait, why haven’t you been absent?”

To my superior who looked up at me with a puzzled expression, I answered with a composed face.

“I don’t drink heavily.”

“Haha, I see. Very commendable.”

The battalion commander, letting her abundant blonde hair fall as she smiled, gazed out the window.

“Lieutenant Meinen was officially listed as belonging to the engineer corps. Cause of death: poisoning by miasma in a tunnel. At the family’s request, no funeral was held, and the body was buried in the army’s communal cemetery.”

Lieutenant Meinen had neither wife nor children. If he had, I wouldn’t have let him duel.

He’d said he was estranged from his family, so there was probably no one to claim the body.

The battalion commander said sadly:

“Meinen used to laugh that if you’re an engineer, any cause of death makes sense, but it’s sad that there was no family to care about such things.”

When I died in my previous life, did anyone mourn for me? I wasn’t confident.

So I voiced what I always told myself:

“No, it’s better to have fewer people who would mourn when you die. He and I used to talk about that often.”

—It really was better not to make anyone sad. You’re pretty smart.

My friend’s smile flashed through my mind for an instant before disappearing into darkness.

I knew that death was not the end.

I wonder if you were able to reincarnate somewhere. I hope you were.

The battalion commander looked up at me and smiled.

“You have a compassionate nature, yet when it comes to death, there’s something oddly detached about you. It’s as if you’re saying you’ve seen hell once before.”

“I’m not religious.”

The battalion commander was annoyingly perceptive.

I hadn’t revealed to anyone that I was a reincarnator from another world.

Other worlds not mentioned in the state religion’s scriptures shouldn’t exist, and souls couldn’t possibly come from there. That was this world’s “common sense.”

Since I wanted to be a peaceful, conventional person, I lived quietly without saying unnecessary things.

The battalion commander smiled as she placed new documents on her desk.

“Well then, the next job. Seek out Yuo Nevilnel, the ringleader of the peasant rebellion that occurred in the northern Kavaraf region, and execute him after a summary trial.”

“Seek him out?”

We were an execution unit—search operations were outside our specialty.

The battalion commander understood this too, so there must be some circumstances involved.

As an aside, these were the only kinds of jobs that came my way.

The battalion commander continued with an expression as if she couldn’t contain her amusement:

“By imperial decree, we are to cooperate with the Second Army Division currently searching for the ringleader. We must capture and execute him at all costs. ‘At all costs.'”

“Ah, ‘at all costs’…”

Having worked with the battalion commander for several years now, I understood what she meant.

In essence, contrary to the orders, she was telling me to “let that guy escape.” I didn’t know the reason. I probably didn’t need to know.

I didn’t know who it was, but if they could avoid being killed, that would be better. It would be easier for me too.

The battalion commander continued giving me orders:

“However, having just you as backup wouldn’t look proper. I’ll continue assigning Second Lieutenant Crimine to you.”

“With respect, will that young lady be adequate?”

The battalion commander smiled cheerfully.

“She probably won’t be adequate, but I trust you’ll make her adequate. Let’s say by ‘next summer.'”

Was she going to make me babysit too? I really hate this battalion commander.