The Mafia Empire

The thought invigorated Shaun, and he clenched his fist in excitement. Now, all he needed was for Julian to agree.

He wanted to lift the lid on the Old Party's corruption in Ternell, but he couldn't do it alone. He needed someone to work with him, and Julian was the ideal ally.

First of all, Julian had money.

It might seem shallow, but even as a high ranking agent of the Imperial Security Bureau with grand ideals, Shaun couldn't ignore the importance of money. In this era, you could be unattractive, you could have nothing, but you had to have money. With money, there was nothing you couldn't obtain—status, prestige, even the sacred love that philosophers and art enthusiasts held so dear. It was all just a matter of price.

Money was needed to buy critical informants, to acquire special equipment, and even to cover basic needs. It was essential.

Secondly, Julian had reliable people. Unlike other gangs, the association's purity was something Shaun valued. The Guar members of the association might all dream of wealth, but they adhered strictly to Guar values. Even when Pronto was spreading information about Jon, none of them had come forward for money.

They were trustworthy, and that was crucial.

With money and people, the only remaining step was to risk it all. Shaun had his reason—to return to the capital and prove he was no deserter. Julian had his own reason, too—if Dave were caught, it would spell the end for him, the association, and all the Guar.

With a shared goal and a similar plight, why not join forces to unleash their rage on this decaying world?

Julian's expression shifted as he thought it over. After a moment, he said, "With the mayor's resources, it won't take a week for him to find out who Jon is. If you want to work with me, we need to survive this first week."

Shaun had already anticipated this. He chuckled, but his expression quickly turned serious. Julian narrowed his eyes, instinctively rolling back and drawing his gun, aiming into the pitch black night where Shaun had glanced. The next second, the sound of retching broke the silence. Julian's eye twitched as Shaun laughed and vomited, heaven knows how much he had drunk that night.

After a while, when Shaun had finished vomiting, the two moved to a new bench. Wiping his lips, Shaun grinned. "Pronto has never trusted me. Ever since I arrived, he's had people watching me. Acting like a drunken fool every day was the only way to keep him from suspecting me."

The fortunate thing was that places frequented by drunks were often ideal for gathering information. Shaun easily picked up what he needed from the mouths of inebriated patrons and skilled "ladies of the night." Of course, these sources provided mostly low-level information; he obtained higher-level intelligence directly from the State Investigation Bureau.

For years, Pronto hadn't let up on his surveillance, and Shaun had grown increasingly wary of him.

He was as cunning as a fox and just as cautious.

After listening to Shaun's account, Julian nodded in understanding. He had always known Pronto was sly, but he hadn't realized he could be paranoid to the point of resembling a deranged fanatic.

"How do you plan to help me get through this rough period?" Julian asked. He handed Shaun a handkerchief, which Shaun tossed to the ground, unable to put it away with the vomit on it. With a slight frown, he brought up the topic that would be the crux of their cooperation.

Shaun chuckled nonchalantly and asked, "For someone like Peter, what do you think is the most precious thing?"

Without much thought, Julian replied, "His life?"

Shaun shook his head.

"His power and status?"

Shaun shook his head again, lifting a hand to stop Julian from guessing further. His eyes sparkled. "For politicians, their political life is their most important asset, even more than their lives or their families."

The Dren Law was a restrictive bill proposed by Prime Minister Dren over three hundred years ago to curb the power of the nobility, allowing royal power to expand further. The Dren Law still exerted unparalleled restraint today. In simple terms, Dren argued that "any group pursuing selfish political interests is essentially illegal, infringing on the rights of the royal family and all fair minded nobles." After this law passed, all political organizations had to register and declare their political objectives.

This was one reason for the eventual establishment of the Empire's Imperial Parliament, the predecessor to today's bicameral legislature.

For politicians, they could accept their own death or tolerate the loss of power and benefits, but their political life had to remain intact. Even if they died, their political life wouldn't end with them. It would live on in the contributions they'd made to politics, keeping their legacy "alive."

"To divert Peter's attention temporarily, there are two ways." Shaun said, pausing to let the anticipation build. Julian couldn't help but laugh, feeling a bit more relaxed. Shaun's tendency to provide two examples to support his points was something Julian could relate to.

Shaun shot him an odd look before continuing, "First, Peter has been married to Vivian for years without any children. He has four mistresses, but still no offspring. This suggests he's physically… compromised, that he lost the ability to have children."

"Political life can continue in two ways. One is through achieving lasting accomplishments, like Norland, influencing future politicians. The other is to have one's political legacy carried on through descendants. Remove Jon, eliminate any witnesses…"

"The second method? Follow the money trail."

Accounts are a terrifying topic. How many tax officials have mysteriously fallen on their way to the cities where they were to take office? The empire's tax revenue has long been a black hole. During the feudal monarchy, nobles held absolute control over their territories and could never allow the royal family to plunder resources and wealth from their lands. This was one of the greatest conflicts between the nobility and the royal family.