[V10C17] A Con Man’s Improvised Conspiracy Theory
Translated by Jodas 10: A Job for a Con Man“Is there not a chance that the messenger twisted both of their words?”
When Hütter said that, Sevil ordered him: “Tell me more.”
(Yes, yes, as you wish, your highness.)
To make an on-the-spot idea sound convincing, it helped to get the audience involved.
Hütter asked Miriam:
“What sort of person was it who delivered the message to the Wedge Tower?”
“…It was a young, blond man. He would have been in his twenties or so.”
“And was there only one messenger?”
“Yes.”
“That’s mighty suspicious. For something so crucial… If I was a cautious Emperor, I would have had two people traveling together.”
Well, to be honest, he hadn’t the slightest clue how the previous Emperor did things.
In fact, it wouldn’t have mattered if Miriam said it was an old man or a small child. The point of his question was just to grab the audience’s attention.
Then, all he had to do was point out some detail in Miriam’s answer to create the idea of a suspicious third party.
“This is purely speculation, but… Assuming Samuel did suggest just selling off the Crystal Territory as Julius insists… Couldn’t someone have taken that message and twisted it into something else?”
“Now the previous Emperor accepts that tale as truth, and tries to pursue the matter further… and in the end, the Wedge Tower buts heads with the Emperor and they cut ties.”
Everyone was silent, as if trying to chew on Hütter’s words.
The first to open their mouth was the quick-thinking Wren.
“Hey, what would this fake messenger have to gain by doing something like that? Who in the world would be thrilled to see the Emperor and the Wedge Tower fighting…?”
Wren was about to continue before he suddenly clammed up.
Hütter voiced the natural continuation to what Wren had said.
“Yeah, it would essentially just be Monsters, wouldn’t it? As we speak, the now isolated Wedge Tower is in a precarious position.”
To leave the impression of ‘I don’t need to say any more, do I?,’ Hütter went silent.
Sevil pointed out with a witty tone:
“Mr. Hütter, the Emperor and Wedge Tower cut ties about seven years ago. There should have been no way for the Monsters to leave the Crystal Territory then.”
“It’s not like they couldn’t leave at all, was it? In fact, there was a large-scale Monster attack thirteen years ago. There’s also those ‘thralls’ that work on the Monsters’ side, too.”
While leaving the Crystal Territory was life-threatening for Monsters, it wasn’t impossible.
Or perhaps, there was a non-zero chance that they had already figured out how to make the crystal rivets by then.
…All of that was, of course, just a possibility, but talking up such things as if the probability was much higher was a con man’s specialty.
Sevil continued to speak.
“Monsters dislike strategy. All this about intervening in communications between the previous Emperor and the Wedge Tower to make them have a falling out… Don’t you think that strategy is rather uncharacteristic of Monsters?”
“Look at what’s happening now. The Monsters lured Headmaster Möbius out towards Darwock, then made a whole lot of noise at the Lange Hamlet as a diversion, all to divide our strength so they could assault the Wedge Tower. I think it’s safe to assume the Monsters today have someone who can strategize.”
‘Sevil already knows that, doesn’t she?’ Hütter secretly curled his tongue.
Odds were that Sevil asked a question she already knew the answer to so that Miriam could hear that answer.
She wanted Miriam to know that Monsters were not fools. That they had the intelligence to make plans.
Miriam whispered in a croaky voice.
“You’re saying all of this was the Monsters’ doing…?”
When she spoke, Miriam’s coughed violently and her breath became more raspy and painful.
Hütter said “Don’t force yourself to speak,” as he waited for Miriam’s coughing to subside.
Any more conversation would have a negative impact on her body. With that in mind, it would be best to wrap things up quickly.
“Of course, everything I said is just speculation. I bet it would take quite some time to re-investigate what happened seven years ago. That’s why… All of this can wait until after we make it back to the Wedge Tower.”
By pinning the crime on an arbitrary third party, the messenger, he had cast doubt on who was to blame.
All he had to do now was say something that made everyone feel good and wrap it up.
And like that, Smoke Fox would close the curtains on his performance.
“We shouldn’t push Assistant Headmaster Miriam any further. Sevil, you guys should leave the room.”
“Understood. Let us depart, Tia, Wren, Julius.”
Unexpectedly, Sevil dutifully gathered her peers and headed for the door.
To be honest, Hütter was a little surprised.
“Wow, you’re awfully cooperative for once.”
“I did say I would do whatever you said, Mr. Hütter.”
‘But you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t already want to, right?’ Hütter thought.
Once Sevil and the others had left the room, Hütter made sure the door was closed before turning back towards Miriam.
“Should I call someone to check on you?”
“…No, thanks.”
“I’m not a priest myself, but I have dabbled in theology a bit.”
Beneath her droopy eyelids, Miriam’s eyes moved slightly to gaze at Hütter.
Hütter placed a hand on his chest and declared:
“…If you need anything, I can have it prepared.”
Anyone could see that the flame of Miriam’s life was slowly burning out. She must have been aware of that herself.
That was why Hütter had to say something. To ask her if she needed anything before she went.
The priests and rectors of the Ras Belsch Orthodoxy had rituals for those soon to die. Miriam probably wouldn’t be pleased if Hütter tried to imitate those.
So, he’d asked just for what she needed.
“…No need. To begin with, I don’t think my soul is destined for Heaven.”
“That’s concerning to hear. If someone as proper as you is going to Hell, I doubt God is going to save a wretch like me.”
Miriam let out a small breath, then coughed.
Was that perhaps her way of laughing?
“Don’t worry, I am a sinner. I doubt God will forgive me after I’ve devoted myself and everything I had to Satie.”
Satie — Otto’s wife and the mother of Fiene, contractor to ‘Chariclea the Wedge Tower.’
“She was a candidate to be the Ras Belsch Orthodoxy’s Saint Helena just like you, wasn’t she?”
“She was kind, and she had a purer heart than any other… Satie is the one who should have become Saint Helena.”
Miriam and Satie once competed for the title of Saint Helena in the generation before the current one (The ‘It’s so sad’ Helena).
But it sounded like they weren’t rivals. Miriam truly believed that Satie deserved to be Saint Helena.
“…But instead, it was me who was chosen as Saint Helena.”
Hütter immediately had an idea as to why.
The name Satie was a name used mostly by women from the Empire’s South. Similar to the Apprentice Rukiye.
The South was made up of countries that had been absorbed into the Empire. As such, these lands largely followed the Spirit God Faith, not the Ras Belsch Orthodoxy.
(There had to have been some important people who didn’t want to have someone from the South becoming Saint Helena.)
On the other hand, Miriam had white skin and blonde hair. Adding in her facial structure, and she was the very image of your typical Northerner.
While it wasn’t something you could say out loud, Hütter was certain that appearance was taken into account when selecting a Saint Helena.
A Saint had to be beloved by the people. Thus, they had to have an appearance the people could love. That made things much easier for the church.
“That was why I… intentionally inhaled poison and ruined my throat.”
One who couldn’t sing the hymns was unsuited to be Saint.
That had to have been her line of thinking.
“But… She wasn’t the one who became Saint Helena in my place.”
It must have been then that Miriam realized it.
She realized exactly what metrics the church she believed in used to select their Saint.
“In my despair, I tried to burn my face with hot oil. Satie stopped me, and said this:”
“Let’s start a new life together! We’re not Helenas any more. We can live under our own names. I’m Satie. That’s the name I had when I was a kid. What’s your name? Do you not have one? if you don’t, can I help you think of one?”
Unable to become Saint Helena, Satie hadn’t despaired. Instead, she offered a hand to Miriam so that they may pursue their faith in a whole new life.
How wonderful that outstretched hand must have looked to Miriam in the pits of her despair.
Suddenly, Hütter recalled an old tale.
“Ruining your throat and pouring boiling oil on your face… Is that not ‘The Vizier of Ophir’?”
“…You’re familiar with it?”
To the South of the Empire, far beyond the grasslands, lied a country known as Ophir. A courtier in that country was a youngster with a talent for singing.
While the youngster had the support of the King, those who envied him set a trap and framed the youngster for a crime.
While the youngster desperately pleaded innocence to the King, the King did not believe it. Convinced that he had been betrayed by the youngster, the King shouted in anger.
“I don’t want to see your face! Your voice means nothing to me anymore!”
Hot oil was poured onto the youngster’s face, and tragically some got into their throat.
Nevertheless, the youngster lived on. And with a charred throat, declared to the King and his retainers:
“May disasters befall this nation.”
As if their words had become a curse, the country of Ophir suffered one disaster after the next. That was the Vizier of Ophir.
Only much later was it determined that the youngster had been innocent. Long after the term ‘Vizier of Ophir’ had become commonplace.
“Just like the Vizier of Ophir, I cursed my country.”
The Vizier of Ophir, with a burned face and throat, pioneered Body Manipulation Magecraft and wrought disaster across the lands of Ophir.