The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 386 Tyrant (13) - Bureaucratic Reform Where is this. Who am I. A certain middle-aged official working in the imperial palace let out a deep sigh. After the senior he had trusted and followed had offered honest counsel to the Emperor — no, to Mihail, who was now the former Emperor — and fallen from grace for it. The officials who had been part of that senior's faction had likewise been knocked off the path to advancement. He was already looking at his late forties in age, yet his post was lower-ranked than most, counted faster from the bottom than from the top among the countless administrative officials. He had no idea why on earth he was here. "I-is it really alright for us to keep staying here? Aren't our heads going to fly off?" "Then what do you want me to do about it. The knight order bastards outside have the place locked down tight." "Damn it. I barely passed that wretched civil service exam, and now it comes to this...!" The enormous hall the former Emperor had once used for his own banquets was now filled with chairs and tables brought in from every corner of the palace, and the four-digit number of young men and women seated there were, for the most part, sunk in anxiety, fear, and a despair as if the world had come to an end. The middle-aged official could tell exactly who they were. The youngest in each department, the newcomers — in military slang, the dregs with the least seniority. And he could roughly guess why they'd been gathered here as well. The officials were trembling, but as far as the middle-aged official could see, the current Emperor was, politically speaking, a thoroughly unstable figure. Legitimacy? He'd burned that up himself. Overwhelming support from the common people? That was nice to have, sure. But it wasn't absolute. Of course, if this nation's monstrous population moved this way and that at the Emperor's command, even fairly capable nobles or powerhouses would be buried and crushed under sheer numbers — but that wasn't a tool one could just casually wield, and it didn't translate directly into political power either. It wasn't as if he could give agitating speeches to the people in the public square every single time he decided on and enacted some policy. Even if he tried, it would be meaningless. In the end, to run the country, one needed officials to handle the actual work, and from the new Emperor's perspective, what was convenient to use wasn't old, lazy warhorses grown comfortable in Mihail's era, but fresh young colts. 'He's probably going to run some kind of ideological training. Or whip up loyalty through a speech.' You are no longer the bottom rung. I will put you to important use. You can change the empire. Stoke their hunger for advancement and honor, and turn the young blood into a loyalist faction. It was a very textbook and effective method. Though effective or not, the problem was that it would take quite a while before they actually became useful strength. But that was precisely why it was all the more puzzling. 'Why on earth am I here??' He wasn't young enough to be swept away by a few sweet words. Nor was his post or status high enough to be used as a bridge to tide things over until the young ones grew up. Had they perhaps brought in everyone who was bottom-rung? But then, aside from him, he didn't see any other low-ranked people with some age on them. As the middle-aged man agonized alone over it, the surroundings suddenly fell silent. The great staircase up ahead. Down the stairs, over which a red carpet had been lavishly laid, several people were descending. A girl beautiful as a doll. Crown Princess Trisha. The captain of the Golden Cloud Knights, who had earned the title Knight-Slayer through his recent conduct. Derek. One of the empire's 6th Rank mages and a master alchemist, Chelleno Boriel. And at the center of them all, a young man descending the stairs with an exceedingly composed air. Beautiful golden hair and blue eyes. A build that wasn't brawny but carried itself with dignity. A face like a sculpture. It was a face anyone would have admired as handsome if they'd passed him on the street, but the young officials actually greeting him had, without exception, gone pale as a sheet. The Blood Emperor. A once-in-an-age avenger who had wrung out even his own blood relatives to reclaim power. For he was none other than this nation's new sovereign, Alondre Arcandel Eizern. The officials tensed up, wondering just what words he would utter. "Derek." "Yes. Your Majesty." Shff, shff, shff. At the sight of the Golden Cloud Knights members presenting piping hot coffee before them with astonishingly coordinated movements, everyone's heads filled with question marks all at once. "Ah, sorry, but there's no sugar. It might give you a brief boost of energy, but you'll just end up drowsier soon after. Drink it black." "?" "If you need the restroom, go out the back door on the right and the knights will guide you. It's best to go during breaks if you can, but if it's truly urgent, don't bother announcing it — just slip out quietly from the back. I won't stop you." "??" "Well then, before we begin the lecture, is there anything you'd like to ask? Feel free to speak up." "???" The young officials all alike wore the expression of 'what is this, why can't I understand him even though he's speaking a language I know?' — and the middle-aged official was no different. But years of experience weren't something to be dismissed so easily, and the middle-aged official cautiously asked a question. "Er, what kind of lecture do you mean to give, Your Majesty?" "The improvement plans you'll need to apply once you return to your respective departments. And how to set examinations for vetting officials." The very fact that he hadn't responded with 'I beg your pardon?' at this point proved the middle-aged official was indeed competent. "...Understood, Your Majesty." In truth, there was a lot more he'd wanted to say. A thousand people sounded like a swarming crowd here, but once they scattered back out, that came to at most two or three per department. And on top of that, their ranks were either counted faster from the bottom, or they were outright the most junior. Even if people like that went back and said "we're supposed to work like this from now on," would anyone easily listen? On top of that, there were many students but, at a glance, fewer than ten lecturers even counting everyone standing up front. Even worse, the officials playing the role of students were from different departments, meaning a different reform plan would need to be taught for each department. Did that even make sense? But the middle-aged official made no particular effort to point this out. Experience had taught him that when someone in power was pushing hard for something, speaking up from the sidelines was utterly useless. With no one else voicing any more questions, the Emperor spoke. "Well then, Chelleno. Get ready." "Hmm, are you certain that supplying mana alone will suffice? Of course, I don't doubt Your Highness's — no, Your Majesty's — aptitude, but you're still only 3rd rank for the time being..." "Ah, I've already bumped myself up to 4th rank, so the minimum requirement is met. It's fine." "Ohh." The middle-aged official blinked for a moment. Hadn't he just talked about his mage rank the way someone talks about upgrading their membership tier at a store? Head of House Boriel, Chelleno, produced a flask containing a rainbow-colored liquid that looked outrageously expensive at a glance, and flung it out through the air. Though it seemed scattered carelessly at random, not a single drop fell to the floor, and it poured down evenly over the officials' heads; the very next moment, the Emperor snapped his fingers. And the middle-aged official experienced an entirely new world. For suddenly, a short distance from his own face, something like a translucent rectangular panel began to appear. "The panel you see now is a thing meant to serve in place of a blackboard. Well then, let's begin the lecture. The very first thing that needs fixing is—" As the Emperor launched into various explanations, waving his hand through the air, various content began to be written on the panel before the middle-aged official's eyes as well. The content was so remarkably easy to understand yet systematic that the middle-aged official was greatly astonished. And at the same time, he grew puzzled. It was certainly extremely easy for him to understand, but if the lecture was this specialized to one particular department, wouldn't everyone else fail to follow it? He glanced sidelong at the seat beside him, and was promptly bewildered. Because the official beside him, and the one beside that one, and the one behind him, and every single person in this place, all had their eyes wide open and alert, as if each of them were receiving 'the lecture easiest for them personally to understand.' 'Don't tell me — an illusion? Is he showing every single one of these students a different screen and sound, each tailored to them? And doing it to a thousand people at once, no less?' The middle-aged official began to wonder whether this entire situation might be some kind of dream, but thankfully, that wasn't the case. Because the longer he kept listening to the lecture, the drowsier he gradually became. The coffee handed out at the very start dwindled quickly, and the Golden Cloud Knights kept right on refilling it. Eventually, they even went so far as to bring over light meals and snacks. "Well, let's leave the lecture here for now. I'd originally like to teach things in more detail, but unfortunately, there isn't much time to spare." The officials who had gathered early in the morning weren't released until around evening, and each of them went home in some sort of dazed state. And the next day. The middle-aged official, carrying the various supplies Trisha had distributed near the end of yesterday's class, reported to work at the 4th Treasury Bureau — "Eagle's Nest" — to which he belonged. If you thought the name sounded idiotic, you'd be correct. It was the result of Emperor Mihail needlessly overhauling this and that before giving up halfway and abandoning it. He really had been a thoroughly rotten emperor in every nook and corner. "There you are, finally!! If you heard something yesterday, you should've come straight here and reported it first — what were you thinking just clocking out like that! Honestly, so slack!" "So, what in the world did His Majesty say? Don't beat around the bush, out with it!" His superiors, who normally dumped every last task onto the middle-aged official while skimming all the credit for themselves, came pestering him relentlessly. The middle-aged official spoke flatly. "From now on, we'll be holding examinations." "What?" "A written exam, a practical exam, and an interview. We'll be conducting three kinds of examinations, and posts will be reassigned according to the results. All existing posts will be disregarded entirely." The officials gaped, dumbfounded. And then, their faces soon reddening, they began squawking. "W-what kind of nonsense is that!! An exam!? Deciding posts by exam!?" "It isn't a permanent post. It can change any number of times according to future personnel evaluations." "That's not the point right now! Do you have any idea how many years I've devoted to the imperial court!" "It's an order from His Majesty." "Guh...!" Even those who normally carried on like kings within their own department dared not defy an imperial edict. For they were, at best, kings of their own little corner, whereas their opponent was an emperor wielding the power of the entire state. The officials, resentful as they were, ended up sitting the exams anyway. "Hm. That's an F." "How bad is an F exactly... What? You mean I'm fired!?" And just like that, ruin. "To be precise, it isn't a dismissal but a warning for falling short of the required work competency. If you produce results on the retest a week from now, you can be assigned a rank again. Though you'd be left a little behind compared to those who already passed." "That's the same thing!! Why on earth did I fail! Did you even grade this properly!?" "I simply followed the grading criteria that His Majesty set out personally." "The criteria, fine, but it was you who applied them! There must clearly be some mistake!" "Are you contesting the ruling?" At the middle-aged official's question, his superiors flinched for a moment. Normally, they too would have stopped right about here. Everyone knew just how ominous the mood in the imperial court had become lately. But "normally" wasn't an option they could afford when they stood on the verge of losing their jobs outright, and above all, right now there was neither the devilish Golden Cloud Knights nor the iron-blooded Emperor anywhere nearby. All that was there was just the one lowest-ranking official they normally ordered around with a jerk of the chin. Inner resentment. Contempt directed at the man before them. The combination of the two drove them to cross the line. "Just give me a retest! A retest! And grade it properly this time!" "You'd better keep this in mind. In the end, you're just another official, same as the rest of us. You were only called in first because it was convenient to push you around here and there — you don't actually have any special power!" "Actually, why bother with a retest at all? You're the examiner — just quietly fudge the record a little, and that'll be that. Why be so inflexible between colleagues?" "Hm," the middle-aged official said, nodding. And then he activated the simplified version of the lecture formula still lingering in his mind — otherwise known as "Emperor-Talk." [Your Majesty. This humble servant is Samuel Isaac of the 4th Treasury Bureau — "Eagle's Nest." There are people here requesting that I falsify scores.] [Hm. Understood.] It was a short exchange. And no less short was the time it took for the fully armed Golden Cloud Knights to arrive at the 4th Bureau. "Imperial edict. Drag off this one, this one, and this one. This one, kill." "What?" Shhk!! The neck of one official, who had thrown his weight around within the department thanks to a fine bloodline and clever string-pulling, went flying straight through the air as a fountain of blood sprayed out. And scenes just like this were playing out all across the imperial palace. [Your Majesty. This is Sorol of the Supplies Management Bureau. There's a part of the lecture content I can't quite recall, so would it be alright if I asked about it again?] [Your Majesty. This is Fradette of the Bureau of Weights and Measures. A situation has come up that wasn't covered in the earlier lecture, and I'm not sure how to handle it...] [Your Majesty. This is Baronia of the Armaments Bureau. I witnessed Eld of the Munitions Bureau running inspections slightly favorably for his acquaintances.] Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Your Majesty. Countless people attempted to communicate directly with the Emperor. They had no idea what messages anyone else was sending the Emperor, nor could they communicate with one another, and yet none of them received a late reply. Because once a question was sent up, the Emperor sent back an answer at something close to instant speed. The 4th Bureau, stained with blood. Amid colleagues frozen stiff by the shocking turn of events, Samuel Isaac alone trembled. A sovereign who communicated with every last low-ranking official, one by one? Yes. It was great. But it was foolish at the same time. For personally overseeing every single affair of state might be a virtue in a small organization, but in a vast nation like an empire, it was the height of folly. How could a single human being involve himself in countless matters, one by one? If the sovereign personally received, one at a time in sequence, every single petition and report from a thousand people, just how much budget and time would be wasted in the waiting line alone? To this, the Blood Emperor's answer was. —Then couldn't I simply respond to all thousand of them at once? The middle-aged official. Samuel Isaac rubbed his dry face with his hands. A hollow laugh escaped his mouth on its own. That wasn't a human's way of governing. But then, what did it matter if he wasn't human? He was, without question, the Emperor. Official training. Personnel reorganization. Recruitment of talent. Establishment of the new system. All carried out simultaneously. Time consumed: one month. The bureaucratic reform was complete.