With the war concluded, there was no longer any need to fear ambushes or take circuitous routes. Leon and his team took the most direct path across the continent, arriving back in the Empire in less than ten days.
They arrived late in the evening. Leon politely declined the elaborate welcome banquet his friends had prepared, opting instead for a simple, quiet meal at a familiar tavern with just Rebecca and a few other trusted comrades. He found far more comfort in sharing a straightforward meal with old friends than in enduring the stifling formalities of a state function.
"As we entered the city, I noticed nearly all the main streets have been restored. Your work here has been remarkably efficient," Leon remarked, raising a can of preserved beef in a casual toast of approval.
"Well, the Upper District was the heart of the Empire's economy," Nacho replied with a wry smile. "When the Primordial Nightmare was unleashed, it nearly shattered the entire financial structure. It has taken considerable time and effort to rebuild, but we've managed... even to the point of getting canned beef back on the shelves. Though I must admit, there were days when cold water and hardtack were the only items on the menu."
Leon chuckled. "Still as sharp-tongued as ever, Nacho."
Nacho's grin widened, and he extended his hand across the table. "Welcome back, Leon. With your help, we can finally purge the last of this corruption from the Empire."
Leon set down his can and shook Nacho's hand firmly. "You've carried a heavy burden here. Tell me, has there been any progress in interrogating the ministers who collaborated with Canter?"
Nacho's expression turned thoughtful. "Progress? Yes... but not quite the kind we anticipated."
Leon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What do you mean?"
Rebecca, sitting beside him, smirked. "You'll see for yourself tomorrow."
Leon immediately pushed his chair back and stood up. "Why wait until tomorrow? Let's go now."
"But you and Rebecca have a critical mission ahead. You should get some proper rest," Nacho countered, concerned.
Rebecca shook her head, her grin knowing. "Let's not delay. Knowing the captain, if he gets even a whiff of a mystery, he'll run himself ragged until it's solved. It's better to indulge him now."
Nacho raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is that so? I didn't realize the legendary Dragon Slayer had such an... impatient streak."
"Oh, it's very real," Rebecca said, reaching over to teasingly lift Leon's chin. "And now this restless energy is being channeled for my benefit, of course."
Leon chuckled, gently nudging her hand away. "You're utterly incorrigible."
In the deep quiet of the night, Leon, Nacho, Rebecca, and Martin made their way to the special detention area of the Imperial Prison.
"This wing was reserved for 'notable figures' during Canter's reign," Nacho explained as they walked through the dimly lit, stone-walled corridors.
"Notable figures? They had a dedicated section for that?" Leon asked, perplexed.
Nacho nodded grimly. "Most of them were high-profile scapegoats."
"Scapegoats?" Rebecca echoed, catching on immediately.
"Precisely," Nacho confirmed. "When the Empire believed you had fallen in the Silver Dragon conflict, Leon, they pinned the entire defeat on you. You became the perfect scapegoat. It was the one and only time the Empire officially laid blame at your feet."
"Quite the 'honorable' position," Leon muttered darkly.
Nacho continued, his voice low. "Canter and his inner circle were involved in countless shady dealings. Whenever one of their schemes risked exposure, they would find some unfortunate soul to take the fall."
"And if public outrage grew too loud for a common scapegoat to quell," Nacho added, "they would sacrifice someone with a famous name, someone whose fall would distract the masses. Most people didn't care about the intricate truth; they just wanted to see a prominent head roll."
"Can't entirely blame them, I suppose," Nacho mused, running a hand along the cold, damp prison wall. "With the Empire controlling the flow of information so tightly, independent thought was a rare commodity."
He stopped before a section of wall that looked no different from the rest. "This area was once the 'luxury suite' for those high-ranking patsies. Outwardly, it looked plain and austere, but the conditions inside were far more comfortable than they appeared."
Leon nodded slowly, processing this. "You're remarkably well-informed about the Empire's inner workings. Weren't you just a logistics officer for the dragon-slaying corps back then?"
Nacho shrugged, a sad smile touching his lips. "My father was once one of those scapegoats."
Leon averted his gaze, the memory returning vividly. Nacho had once confided in him about his father's fate—framed for leaking military secrets, promised clemency in exchange for one final, suicidal mission, only to be betrayed and murdered in this very prison. It was this burning desire for truth and justice that had led Nacho to join Leon's cause.
"After Canter's fall, we rounded up his known collaborators and threw them in here for questioning," Rebecca added, her voice hardening. "But they receive no special treatment now. One cell, a pile of straw—that's their world."
Leon stopped walking, nodding in grim approval. "That seems appropriate for a prison."
"So, Captain," Rebecca teased, a smirk returning to her face, "how do you know so much about the accommodations in prison?"
"I'll leave that question for his 'dear wife' to answer," Nacho interjected with a light chuckle, deftly deflecting the question.
Just then, a frantic voice screeched from one of the cells they were passing.
"Leon Cosmodeous! I'm innocent! Get me out of here—I was never in league with that rat Canter!"
The shout acted as a spark, igniting a chorus of desperate pleas from the other cells.
"Cosmodeous! Tell them I was framed too! I never trafficked anyone!"
"I'm innocent as well! Those children... they all came to me willingly!"
"Wait, wait, I'm innocent too! Those women threw themselves at me!"
Leon's face darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Are they all this delusional?"
Nacho nodded wearily. "Weeks of intensive interrogation... it tends to break their minds. It's a necessary evil, unfortunately. Otherwise, they'd never crack."
"No one here is wrongly imprisoned, I assume?"
"Rest assured, we are certain of every single person's guilt in this wing."
Nacho finally led them to a cell at the very end of the corridor. Through a one-way magical viewing barrier, they could clearly see an older man slumped over a meager pile of straw. He was shirtless, his body looking worn and dejected, yet it still radiated a latent, formidable strength beneath the surface of neglect.
Leon recognized him instantly.
"Noel Last," he breathed, the name heavy with history. "The Supreme Commander of the Dragon Slayer Corps under the previous king."
Nacho let out a deep, weary sigh. "Twenty years ago, the state newspapers officially reported his death."