Title: The Logic of the Strong (3)

Text:
"Akarius" was a mercenary company based in the Kanilan Independent State, a nation on the western continent particularly known for its advancements in magical engineering.

"A million Imperial dollars…"

The commander, Ren, was a pure-blooded Aran of Imperial descent, and most of her regular clients were Imperial citizens as well. But it was for that very reason that she had coiled her nest on an independent island nation, away from the Empire.

"...A million dollars just to find one old man."

Having become the commander of a mercenary company at the young age of twenty-three, she was a rather legendary figure in her field.

"He even has two names."

She softly murmured the names written on the request form: [Giorgio Kiriko, Lorenzo Carione].

"Should we accept?" her secretary asked.

"Hold on."

Before accepting any job, Akarius conducted a thorough background check. The aristocrats of the Empire tended to think of mercenaries as disposable commodities, but to Commander Ren, each and every one of them was a precious resource that cost millions to raise.

"A lot of the members are eager to take it. There are already a few guys sniffing around the Empire."

"I heard you, so shut up."

Ren picked up the request form, scratching furiously at her red hair.

"The old man escaped alone, this tightwad is offering a million… what other intel do we have?"

"His location has already been pinpointed. It’s in the southern Hermes Province."

"Hermes is a southern backwater. Any other news from there?"

"Uh… one moment."

Her secretary, Jekon, operated the computer. As a nation advanced in both magic and magical engineering, the Kanilan Independent State kept a close eye on the Empire's every move, so news from that side was always distributed across their network.

"Ah. Here we go. It says magic stones have erupted in the Homilton Mountain Range of Hermes Province."

"Magic stones erupted?"

"Yes. It's a huge find, apparently."

"Damn, I'm jealous. Who found them?"

"Hmm… that hasn't been made public, but ah, right. The members already in the Empire managed to acquire the ledgers from the target's magic shop."

"Where?"

"Right here."

Jekon printed out a photo of the ledger and handed it to her. Ren scanned the records and sales figures.
If someone's helping an old man with two names, they'd have to be the money behind him. So, I should focus on the recent large transactions—.

The eyes of Commander Ren fell upon a single name.

'Maximilian.'

She didn't know exactly who he was. The Empire had many people with the same name, and Maximilian was a fairly common one. However, the number of people who could drop this kind of money in one go was limited.

'...Ebenholz.'

It might not be him, but if it was an Ebenholz, getting involved would be a one-way ticket to hell. Of course, being the twisted person she was, a part of her wanted to stir the pot, especially if the opponent was a Zefestian.

But now was not the time.

"We're out. Tell the men already there to come back if they don't want to get a knife in the gut."


The logic of the strong is the logic of power.
The strong oppress the weak. Because they are strong, they can subjugate the weak. However, this should not be applied selectively. One who devours the weak by virtue of being strong must accept the fact that they, too, can be crushed by one who is stronger.

If they cannot, then it is no longer logic, but merely a specious argument.

And yet, most of the strong, when they become the target, cannot accept their fate. Instead, they cry injustice, claiming it is unreasonable.
How amusing.

At the behest of the young knight of Ebenholz, a retrial for the past 'Giorgio Kiriko' case was officially ordered. The details of the incident, which had been buried in a dusty archive for over a decade, resurfaced, and the Imperial Central Court scheduled the retrial with unusual swiftness.

The moment that news spread, the collapse of the Listman Company began.

"...I'm afraid we won't be able to continue this transaction any further, Chairman."

The president of 'Terra Metals,' Listman's key parts supplier, announced the termination of their contract. His usual sycophantic tone was gone, replaced by a much more business-like manner.

"President Ginter."

"I'm sorry, but our hands are tied. Ah, and about that promissory note you issued the other day, we would appreciate it if you could pay it in cash as soon as possible."

"The maturity date is clearly six months from now. Are you trying to mess with me?"

"...Mess with you? The original maturity date was next month."

Ginter snorted. It was a laugh of contempt, and blood vessels burst in Valerius's eyes.

"Chairman. The rumors these days are quite grim. Word is you placed a strange request with a mercenary company and it blew up in your face…"

His long-time business partner was looking down on him. A mere commoner who'd made a bit of money dared to look down on him

"It would probably be best for you to let go of your greed."

President Ginter chuckled dryly and rose from his seat.

"Well then, I'll be on my way. And please, do take care of that note."

Left alone, Valerius gripped his glass so tightly it threatened to shatter.

The judge who had ruled in Valerius's favor over a decade ago, along with some of the police and prosecutors who had handled the investigation, resigned. As if by agreement, they all cited 'personal reasons.'

The bureaucrats who had provided favors for the Listman family turned their backs in an instant, and a summons arrived for Valerius from the court. It was an official subpoena, ordering him to attend the upcoming retrial as a witness.

Simultaneously, he was dismembered, limb by limb. His bank loan extension was denied. Multiple deals were canceled. Allied families cut off all contact. Even the restaurants, social clubs, and golf courses he frequented refused his reservations.

There were even rumors that the Imperial Tax Service had launched a special investigation targeting the Listman Company.

Now, no one 'dared' to associate with him.
Valerius Listman was isolated in an instant.

All because of a single document sent by a knight of Ebenholz.

Valerius let go of everything. In the end, he went to find the knight, Maximilian, in person. At the very least, he had to find out why—what it was that man truly wanted from him.

"Sir Maximilian!"

Valerius burst into his office without preamble.
Beneath the sunlight streaming through the window, Maximilian was calmly pouring tea.

"S-Sir, you can't do this. Trespassing in a knight's office is—"

An official rushed over to restrain Valerius, but Maximilian waved his hand dismissively, signaling that it was fine. The official bowed cautiously and retreated.

Maximilian spoke.

"Please, have a seat."

His voice was calm, without inflection. Valerius hesitantly sat down in a chair. He straightened his clothes and steadied his breathing.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

What kind of nonsense is this.
Valerius asked Maximilian.

"Why? Why on earth are you doing this to me?"

"..."

Maximilian quietly sipped his tea. Even that simple gesture was imbued with an effortless grace.
Valerius watched him for a moment before speaking again.

"Giorgio Kiriko is purely a matter of my own bad blood with him. So why, Sir Knight, are you taking that old man's side—"

"Hmm. The reason for that," Maximilian cut him off.

"Is because I felt like it."

Because I felt like it.
With that one phrase, Valerius was rendered speechless.

"Is that a problem?"

"..."

Valerius felt as if a knife had been driven into the crown of his head. His mind reeled with a sharp ringing.
A family that could pressure and crush the House of Listman simply because they didn't like them. And a man who could do so with such composure, looking down on him from an impossibly distant height, completely detached from the torment he was inflicting.

"Of course, this retrial will count toward my performance review. It'll be worth one point, maybe two."

Valerius felt a colossal wall before him. A wall so vast he couldn't touch it, reach it, or even see the top of it.

"That's significantly less than the value of the theory you stole from Giorgio Kiriko, though."

Clink. Maximilian set down his teacup.

"Mr. Valerius. I despise people who lie."

Valerius's body flinched.

"So I will ask. Did you truly not steal Giorgio Kiriko's theory?"

"..."

Valerius couldn't bring himself to open his mouth.
Maximilian waited for a long time.

"Th—"

A torrent of words welled up in his mouth—worries for the future, his own shame, anger at others, regrets like snowflakes—all clustering into a lump, but they couldn't form a coherent sentence.
Maximilian watched him, a slight twist to his lips.

"I do hope you find your voice in court."

An official, who had approached at some point, helped Valerius to his feet.

"Please see him out respectfully."

"Yes, sir."

Supported by the official, Valerius left the office.

As he watched the closing door, he felt as if the ground were collapsing beneath him.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
Was this how my old master felt?


The retrial began. In attendance were the defense attorney, the prosecutor, the judge, Lorenzo, and numerous other witnesses.
I attended in plain clothes, even wearing a hat and mask to avoid being recognized.
From a corner of the gallery, I intended to watch how this trial unfolded.

"We will now commence the retrial of the Imperial Central Court, case number III R 1317/4103, regarding the defendant, Giorgio Kiriko."

The judge declared the court in session.
Lorenzo's lawyer began by asserting the defendant's innocence in the past [Attempted Plagiarism and Abuse of a Disciple] case and requested new witnesses. The judge, as expected, approved.

"...Over a decade ago, I gave false testimony in this very court."

Many old faces took the witness stand. The numerous colleagues who had once testified against Lorenzo.
Risking charges of perjury, they testified that Valerius's theory was, in fact, the original work of Giorgio Kiriko. They also confessed that Giorgio had never abused his disciples; on the contrary, he had performed acts of kindness, like giving a portion of his own salary as a scholarship fund.

"Your Honor, as material evidence, I submit the peer review records."

The decisive evidence was the 'Peer Review' record. It was customary in the Mage Tower for scholars to discuss new theories with their colleagues before publication. Giorgio, who enjoyed exchanging ideas with his peers, had sent a draft of the theory to his colleagues for review even before Valerius had joined the tower.
One of those witnesses, who had kept the original document all this time, now stood on the witness stand with it.

I watched them from the gallery. In the front row, I saw a familiar face.

"...What is she doing here?"

Ezel. With her round glasses, she seemed to be meticulously recording the trial proceedings in a notepad.

"I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry, Giorgio!"

The current witness was Jerome. He sobbed, bowing his head repeatedly toward Lorenzo in the defendant's box.

"I was truly blinded back then… I was consumed by envy and jealousy… and I was afraid…"

His apology was not directed solely at Lorenzo. It was a desperate struggle to save his own skin.
Lorenzo watched the pathetic form of his former colleague with a hardened expression.

"We will now recess before proceeding with the second hearing."

A brief recess was called.
I went out to the back of the courthouse.
Tap, tap. Lorenzo approached, leaning on his cane.

"Valerius Listman will be here soon."

At my words, Lorenzo gave a bitter smile. As a witness, Valerius was scheduled to attend this trial.
He would come and say whatever he had to say.

"Sir Knight. The new workshop you built for me is far better than the lab I used to have at the Mage Tower. How much on earth did you spend?"

"Not much. Time has passed, that's all. The equipment from fifteen years ago is just scrap metal now."

I was pleased. I had, in fact, spent a great deal of money. All the equipment was the best available.
Talents like Lorenzo and Armand were worth it.

"Thank you, Sir Maximilian."

His gratitude was sincere.

"With this, I feel I have been compensated enough."

I looked at Lorenzo.
Listman's downfall was sealed. The magic coil was already a common technology, and the piddling patent royalties would soon end. On top of that, he would have to pay an astronomical sum in damages to Lorenzo; he wouldn't be able to cover it even if he sold his entire house.

"I understand your will, Sir Knight. The strong yield to the stronger, and power is broken by a greater power…"

Lorenzo offered a gentle smile. In the sunlight, the leaf-like wrinkles by his eyes deepened.

"But I am just an old scholar who has managed to raise a single disciple, and Valerius, too, was once my student."

He looked like a kindly grandfather.
The kind of man who, if you met him in the neighborhood, would give a piece of a cookie to a hungry child, or a cup of milk to a runaway like my past self…

"Therefore, I wish for nothing more."

I smiled faintly and nodded.

"Yes."

If you wish to escape the chain of hatred, you must be the one to sever it when you finally become the strong one.

"Please convey your intentions in court."

Many people, entranced by the fruit of revenge, cannot summon such courage.
But good people always strive to find a better way.

< The Logic of the Strong (3) > End

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Pub: 18 Oct 2025 05:26 UTC

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