The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 9
EP.9 Children of The Emperor (3)
Honestly, I had no real intention of carrying out that mission with utmost seriousness.
Assassinating a count, really.
Not that I couldn’t do it, of course. I had already tested whether or not I could complete such a mission. Taking the carriage the Emperor provided all the way to the count’s estate and infiltrating the mansion itself was perfectly feasible.
Not that I succeeded on the first try, of course. It was the count’s mansion, after all, so there were numerous guards, and the count himself had a meticulous nature, with countless servants and guards swarming inside the estate.
But no matter how thorough the security, there were always gaps to exploit.
Especially in this world, where there was no such thing as CCTV yet. Sure, there were devices like the Analytical Engine and the Difference Engine—steam-powered machines akin to computers. There were also mechanical calculators, cameras, and printers. However, all these technologies were based on analog systems.
The Difference Engine could store numbers and letters, but not on semiconductor-based storage devices. Instead, it used a complex network of variously sized gears that physically represented data in its configurations. Think of it as a very expensive analog wristwatch. The intricate gears constantly powered by steam engines would hold information in a physical form, which could then be retrieved by feeding other gears into the system and printing it onto paper.
Naturally, these devices required a continuous supply of coal or magic stones to keep running. Maintenance had to account for wear and tear on every single component. And compared to modern computers I was familiar with, these machines were massive. Even a Difference Engine capable of storing a few images was the size of three grand pianos stacked together.
Storing images was highly inefficient, so the machines were typically used for complex calculations. If they were set to remember numbers instead of images, they could store far more data and significantly speed up output times.
Even then, the only real advantage over human calculation was being “a bit faster and a bit more accurate.” So, unless a calculation needed to be completed urgently or to several decimal places, it was more practical to hire a professional mathematician, known as a “calculator.”
Furthermore, the Analytical Engine, which was supposed to match the capabilities of a 386 or 486 computer, wasn’t something that could fit into the space of a few grand pianos. It required an entire building, with hundreds of technicians on standby to repair its gears at any given moment. Although it’s smaller than a library, considering the cost alone, it might be more efficient to just build a library.
The latest, more compact version of the Analytical Engine was supposedly installed in the flying battleship “Dreadnought” that soared over the capital, Runedarium. But being scaled down meant sacrifices in functionality, so dozens of calculators were on standby to support the Analytical Engine’s calculations.
There were cameras, but video recording hadn’t been invented yet. When we think of analog cameras, we think of film, but this world hadn’t developed such film yet. Here, the “film” was not a flexible strip but a wide glass plate. Naturally, the higher the resolution of the camera, the larger the glass plate needed. This also increased the risk of breakage.
By the main storyline’s beginning, film around the size of the 35mm film we’re familiar with was supposed to be available. However, since this was before the start of the main storyline, I hadn’t seen any yet.
…I have to say, the setting is strangely detailed in odd areas.
In any case, this is a world where a blend of over-technology and the actual atmosphere of the 19th century exists in various ways.
From what I confirmed by being caught dozens of times, the Crowfield Count family relied solely on human resources for security without using any Difference Engines for surveillance.
And as long as humans were involved in guarding the place, there would always be a way to break through.
I managed to reset the time forty-six times and succeeded in getting close to the count twice.
Out of thirty-four attempts, I succeeded in creating a situation where I could shoot the count in the head three times while he was walking along the road.
As for successfully planting a bomb in the carriage the count was riding, that was achieved twice out of thirty-seven attempts.
Lastly, I disguised myself as a newly hired maid and managed to slip poison into the food the count would eat once. This method only succeeded on the fifth and final attempt out of five.
After confirming how inefficient this method was, I decided to scrap it altogether. Each infiltration took at least a week to two weeks, and the success rate was low. In fact, success was achieved only once, and even that was the result of numerous time reversals in between. This means that, in total, I had to reset the time five times. But in reality, the number of times the ability was used was the highest for this method.
Considering the time needed for escape and the possibility of someone remembering my face later, the second method was the most appropriate: shooting from a distance and then escape.
Of course, I didn’t actually kill him. I only tested the feasibility, and the count was still alive.
“…Hmm.”
I perched on a tree, lost in thought, watching the procession of the count’s carriage through binoculars.
I knew the name ‘Crowfield.’ As ominous as it sounded, the count had a very sinister aura. His mustache curled up at the ends in the style of a Kaiser’s mustache, and his skin was so pale it was almost white.
Well, honestly, this appearance was a first for me. I only remembered the name because I had heard it in the game.
Mia Crowfield.
One of the heroines. She had a somewhat gloomy atmosphere, with drooping hair, but if you brushed aside the bangs covering half her face, she was an incredibly beautiful girl.
In the game, it was revealed that she lost her father due to the Emperor’s schemes three years before the main story began… but in reality, Count Crowfield was involved in all sorts of dirty deeds behind the scenes. That was the setting.
Among the important characters in the noble faction that the protagonist belonged to, each had a tragic backstory, and Mia Crowfield was one of them.
At home, he was a stern but caring father. However, behind the scenes, he was deeply involved in human trafficking, prostitution, and the opium trade targeting commoners.
Mia Crowfield’s storyline revolved around discovering the truth about her father, whom she believed to have been a victim of power struggles, and then apologizing to the heroine from the commoner faction, accepting and overcoming her past.
“…But I never thought I’d be the one to eliminate Crowfield.”
I sighed lightly.
The character of the Emperor believed that everything he did was for the Empire. He loved the Empire so much that he was willing to sacrifice everything outside the Empire to make it his own and use the results for the Empire. In real-world terms, he was a typical imperialist.
However, his love for the Empire was genuine, so he sincerely wanted to eradicate the opium trade and human trafficking rooted within the Empire. He didn’t care what happened to other countries; he was ready to sacrifice everything for the Empire.
Of course, there were many flaws in his logic. But then again, which villain didn’t have flaws in their logic? If there were no flaws, they wouldn’t be villains but rather good characters.
So, honestly, until I learned the name Crowfield, I hadn’t decided that I would “definitely eliminate him.”
The problem was—
“……”
I raised my binoculars again and focused on the carriage carrying the count. Beyond the lenses, crafted meticulously by the finest artisans in the Empire, the black carriage of the count came into clear view.
It was indeed a luxurious carriage made of expensive wood, but it wasn’t the one the count usually rode. The count’s usual ornate carriage was parked in front of another inn. The count had switched carriages twice before heading to his destination.
And that destination was a brothel located in a secluded part of the count’s territory.
By the way, the term “brothel” was something I personally decided to call it. The actual sign on the building read “Orphanage.”
Out of the forty-six attempts I made to evade or neutralize the count’s guards and get close to him, twelve were carried out at this brothel. And once, I succeeded in getting close enough to press the Wexler revolver to the count’s head. Because of that, I knew quite well what went on inside that building. The name “brothel” was far more fitting than “orphanage.”
The nauseating stench that assaulted the nose. The haze-inducing scent of opium. The screams and groans. The cries of children begging for their lives.
Oh, and something I forgot to mention, during those twelve times I infiltrated the brothel, I thoroughly searched every corner of it.
I managed to obtain client lists, records of the children used up, the cost of their lives, and the names of the organization’s members. When a .455 caliber bullet lodged in his leg, the count had blurted out everything he knew, practically crying.
The brothel “imported” children from “an orphanage in the capital” and “processed” that “raw material” as needed.
“Do you think eradicating this one brothel will root out such situations? This organization is just one of many small criminal groups! If you want to eliminate those who are corrupting the Empire, you need to ally with the big players! S-spare me. I’ll do anything for His Majesty. I’ll reveal all the information I know…”
“…Then, let me ask you one thing. The carriage you came in. What about the coachman? Is he a member of this organization?”
“Y-yes, he is. Of course. To ensure that information about our clients doesn’t leak, we use only loyal members at every step of the process…”
That’s what the count had told me directly during my previous encounter with him.
Of course, the count now wouldn’t even dream that he had said such things.
There were no innocent people in the carriage the count was riding. They were all entangled not just by money but by drugs and prostitution. They couldn’t easily speak out or pull out because they were involved in the very act of using drugs and assaulting children. The moment they tried, the pre-prepared evidence would be exposed to the world. Of course, this information wasn’t acquired by threatening the organization members. Those who couldn’t handle the guilt would never be so deeply involved in the first place.
Most of the members supporting the organization were criminals who had been in and out of prison multiple times. Even in a country where human rights were barely recognized, committing atrocities against children was seen as nearly unforgivable.
…Honestly, when I think about it, it’s a strange thing. People don’t bat an eye when a ten-year-old child gets their hand crushed in a press while working in a factory, yet they are deeply concerned about imprisoning and assaulting such children. No matter how many times I see it, I can’t quite grasp the concept of “good” in this world.
Well, setting those thoughts aside.
To summarize,
Neither the count nor the members of the organization driving that carriage were people whose deaths would matter much.
As the carriage drew closer to the brothel, it began to slow down. I took out a pocket watch from my pocket and checked the time. Although a mechanical watch has its limitations in terms of accuracy, it should still give me a rough estimate of when the bomb would—
Boom!
—explode.
I quickly raised my binoculars to look in the direction of the explosion. Half of the carriage had vanished without a trace. The coachman, who had been seated up front, was rolling on the ground, his legs missing. The bodyguard, who had been riding with the count for protection, stumbled out of the opposite door with one arm gone before collapsing. Other members of the organization, who had been following in carriages behind, hurriedly disembarked—
Only to be swept away by a series of successive explosions.
The entire procession following the count’s carriage was blown far away in a chain reaction of detonations. Unlike the carriage carrying the count, where the placement of the explosives had been carefully calculated to target his seat, the subsequent carriages were hit in various locations. Some exploded near the coachman’s seat, others blew out to the left side—opposite from the count’s carriage—or, at least outwardly, appeared relatively intact.
Of course, even the carriages that seemed undamaged had their windows blown out from the inside, suggesting no one inside could have survived. I could see some bodies with their limbs scattered in different directions.
Not just humans, but several horses had been blown apart as well. The surviving horses, startled by the deafening blasts, thrashed about wildly, causing further chaos among the remaining members of the organization who were struggling to control them. I felt a pang of guilt for the innocent animals caught up in all of this.
The count’s body would likely never be found.
On the eighth attempt, I had succeeded for the third time.
“……”
This wasn’t my first time killing someone. It really wasn’t, but… honestly, I didn’t feel good about it.
“Ugh.”
Suppressing the nausea welling up inside me as best as I could, I climbed down from the tree. I changed out of my dirty clothes, stuffed them into my travel bag, and closed it. I had to escape before the chaos settled within the estate.