LIGHTNOVELONLINE Book 8: Chapter 4
Imperial Prince Bardloche of Earthworld was famous for being the militaristic type. He’d enjoyed learning swordsmanship from a young age, and it was his greatest desire to have his own army once he grew up. Whether it was leading subordinates or subjugating bandits, no one had more battle experience within the Imperial family than him. His soldiers trusted him with their lives, and many believed Bardloche was worthy of the throne.
And yet he’d lost the other day.
It all started when the eldest prince acted recklessly. The four siblings had fought for the right to rule, and in the end, Imperial Princess Lowellmina got the jump on all of them. Although Lowellmina’s coronation was on hold at the moment, Bardloche’s force had sustained major damage because of his failure. The civil war had cost him soldiers and supplies to no small degree, and his faction took a nosedive.
Bardloche had to rebuild his faction as fast as possible. Curiously, that was the case, too, for Princess Lowellmina and the youngest prince, Manfred, but unlike them, Bardloche’s faction was tied together by military strength.
Bardloche was strong. His armies were strong. That was why people flocked to him. They respected him. They supported him. It was a simple system, and that was how Bardloche liked it.
This was also why his losses in battle felt so much more devastating than the other Imperial siblings.
Bardloche had been weak. His army had failed. Respect had turned to disappointment, and doubt rattled his support base. He would be criticized as a coward if he tried to buy back support with money, and the people would think he was abandoning his roots if he made any attempt to regain their hearts with speeches. Those admired for their strength had no choice but to regain respect with strength and strength alone.
I need something that will shut the people up and an enemy I can take on. But where…?
Bardloche was unsure what to do, beating himself up, when a messenger from the West arrived—
“Your Highness, it won’t be long until we reach Mealtars.”
When his subordinate Lorencio spoke to him, Bardloche opened his eyes, riding on horseback. He looked at Lorencio and the soldiers proceeding forward in an orderly fashion. There were around three thousand of them. It was the best he was able to scrape together from his exhausted faction.
“…How’s the city?”
“According to the reports from our scouting party, Mealtars closed off the western castle gate. It seems Cavarin is observing them from a distance and has ceased its attacks.”
“I see… Everything’s going according to plan,” Bardloche muttered.
Lorencio grimaced.
“Does something bother you, Lorencio?”
“Forgive me. This strategy just doesn’t seem like you, Your Highness. Even if it was, it’s a nasty one.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”
The messenger from the West said they were a subordinate of Caldmellia’s. They had come to Bardloche with a proposition.
“We will provoke a portion of the aristocrats in Cavarin and attack Mealtars. We want you to raise your army and defend the city.”
At first, Bardloche couldn’t decipher their plan. After he got the whole story, however, he understood.
Caldmellia had two objectives in mind. First, she wanted to stop King Skrei from becoming a Holy Elite. If Cavarin attacked the Empire, he would have to take responsibility. His consideration to join the Holy Elite would be taken off the table, and he would be denounced domestically and abroad. Who could say how much chaos would ensue in an already fractured country? Cavarin would be ripe for the picking by neighboring nations.
Her other goal was to force Natra to align with the West. After inviting Wein to the Gathering of the Chosen, she would stage a clash between the two sides of the continent. He would then be pressured to pick a side. If he complied, great. If he chose the East, Caldmellia would have reason to crush him.
This plan benefited Bardloche, too. Defending Mealtars would let him highlight his former military prowess. Working together would guarantee a fresh stream of supplies. And most importantly—there was the tempting possibility that Natra would side with the West.
If Natra joins them, he’ll have to break it off with Lowellmina.
Natra was currently in an alliance with the Empire, but it was really Imperial Princess Lowellmina’s people whom they were supporting. It was obvious that her foreign backer had stabilized her faction. If she lost him, it would be a hard hit on the princess.
Not a bad deal… In fact, I couldn’t ask for better.
He couldn’t turn down such an offer. It was a win all around.
At the same time, Bardloche was worried it was too good to be true. Was this really a safe bet? He’d heard Director Caldmellia of the Gospel Bureau was a mastermind. What if she was hiding another objective he just couldn’t see?
But…
At the moment, the other two factions had a lead over him. If Bardloche stood around and watched, the throne would slip through his fingers. If he wanted any chance of staying in the race, he would grasp at anything that came his way.
“Lorencio, I understand why you’re worried. But it’s too late to hesitate.”
“Yes… Forgive me.”
“We’ll deploy the soldiers as soon as we reach Mealtars. Those Westerners thought they could invade Imperial territory, but we’re gonna drive ’em right out.”
Lorencio listened to Bardloche, closed his eyes, and bowed.
On the west side of Mealtars, Cavarin’s army of aristocrats set out in a place away from the city’s blockaded gate. There weren’t even two thousand of them. They were poorly equipped, and their morale was low. It was like they were a reflection of Cavarin’s current state of affairs.
A man and a woman observed this army from the rear.
“Seems things are chugging along.”
“No surprise there. Lady Caldmellia came up with the plan, after all.”
The man’s name was Owl. The woman was Ibis. Both served under Caldmellia.
“I really didn’t think it’d be this easy to get them going. The merchants from Mealtars must have milked those aristocrats from Cavarin for everything they were worth.”
Mealtars was a critical position in the central continent, and as a neighboring nation, Cavarin had flourished from its founding. However, after King Ordalasse’s assassination two years prior and losing the ensuing war with Natra, the reputation of the royal family had gone down the drain. This stirred the top leaders to fight for the title of king. The race for the throne carried on both publicly and privately, and the nation’s public order, manufacturing industries, and distribution chains fell apart in the process.
It was impossible for the aristocrats to run their domains and the economy. Tax revenue dropped, and their popularity among the people waned.
Just then, the merchants from Mealtars approached them, offering people, supplies, and money to aid their administrations. Most jumped at the opportunity. There were some who realized the merchants’ objective and hesitated. The trouble over managing their lands, however, wouldn’t go away on its own. In the end, they yielded.
Thus, the domains of aristocrats all fell under the patronage of the merchants. Like a cloth stripped back layer by layer, their rights were peeled away.
It wasn’t only the West that was ready to prey on Cavarin in its weakened state. By the time the aristocrats realized this, it was already too late. They could do nothing but obey the merchants while harboring shame and resentment.
Caldmellia took advantage of this moment.
“She claims to lead them to the promised land if their attack on Mealtars is worthwhile. Do you really think that’s true?”
“Yes. A place will be prepared for them. By God’s side.”
Ibis chuckled. “I feel bad for King Skrei. The aristocrats have betrayed him while he’s trying to unify the country, and the masterminds forcing him to take responsibility are about to meet our Creator. What is to become of Cavarin?”
“Who knows? It doesn’t matter to us. All I can say is you needn’t pity King Skrei. After all, there is no greater honor than becoming a pawn to one of Lady Caldmellia’s plans.”
“Hee-hee. You have a point.” Ibis giggled and looked west in the direction of Lushan.
“I’m sure the Holy Elites gathered in the city are weeping tears of joy right about now,” she said.
“—That damn woman! Caldmellia screwed me over!”
In a room of his lodgings in Lushan, Miroslav cursed Caldmellia with every word in his vocabulary.
Mealtars had been violently attacked by aristocrats from Cavarin, and Prince Bardloche’s army was advancing. The influx of this new information forced them to temporarily pause the Gathering of the Chosen.
Were the reports real? If they were, what were the details of the situation? Each of the Holy Elites had called upon their subordinates and raced to get the facts straight as quickly as possible. When the messengers returned with their findings several days later, they confirmed everything was true.
This is definitely a plan to stop Skrei from becoming a Holy Elite!
The puppet master had to be someone at the Gathering, and there was no one more suspicious than Caldmellia. Now that Miroslav thought about it, the city had been instantly blockaded after Tigris’s death. He had thought it was to prevent the criminal from getting away, but it also could have been an effort to prevent any information from coming in or going out. Even if external news arrived in Lushan by some chance, the Holy Elites would have no idea what was going on in Mealtars. By the time they did find out, everything would be far too late. The only ones with the power to execute such a thing were either the Holy King or Caldmellia.
“I can’t believe this is happening…”
In the same room, Skrei—visibly overwhelmed—murmured to himself. This just had to happen as he’d been thinking he could unify Cavarin by becoming a king and a Holy Elite. Even he couldn’t pick himself up.
“Get a grip, Skrei! It’ll be over if you fall apart here!”
Miroslav’s comment did nothing to clear Skrei’s dark expression.
“But, Miroslav, things won’t get any better. I should go back to Cavarin and settle things there.”
“No! You can’t do that!” Miroslav grabbed Skrei’s shoulders. “You heard Wein, right? Holy Elites can make miracles happen if we want to. And there’s no denying Cavarin attacked first. If you leave the Gathering now, the Holy Elites will take advantage of that and criticize Cavarin. They’ll try to destroy your country and devour it without a second thought. If nothing else, you’ve gotta avoid that!”
“But how?!”
“By becoming a Holy Elite!” Miroslav shouted. “We’re out of options by this point. Leave Cavarin to your vassals for now. In the meantime, all you can do is become a Holy Elite, purge all the aristocrats who had anything to do with the attack on Mealtars, and stabilize Cavarin! If you do that, the other Elites can’t get in your way!”
Miroslav knew he was asking for a lot. He was trying to get the rest of the Holy Elites to accept Cavarin into their fold even though everyone except him saw the country as easy prey. But it simply had to be done. Miroslav couldn’t say any of this to Skrei’s face, but it would still be to his benefit even if Cavarin got swallowed up by another Western nation. What worried Miroslav most was the possibility of the Empire advancing into the West.
The Empire is eyeing Cavarin, too, in its weakened state! The Imperial merchants from Mealtars have poached aristocratic land, and now the nobility are attacking Mealtars to exact their revenge! The Empire has more than enough reason to invade Cavarin to protect their interests!
That alone was unacceptable. The Kingdom of Falcasso—a territory that managed the southern road connecting to the East—had a long history of fighting against the Empire. To Miroslav, the Empire was an enemy that had to be destroyed at any cost. They could not be allowed to cross into the West.
…If there’s any silver lining here, I guess it would be the fact that Wein’s getting cornered.
Caldmellia would use this opportunity to win over Natra. It was critical for the West that the prince break ties with the Empire. In fact, it would be even better if he defied the Elites. Once Wein was labeled a traitor, the attention would shift away from Skrei.
Either way, it works, Miroslav thought. Your days of neutrality are over. You’re out of moves. Time to pick a side—!
“—There’s more where that came from,” Wein confirmed from his temporary manor.
“‘More’… Are you saying there’s still something we can do?” Ninym asked, shocked.
Just as Wein had successfully cleared himself of Tigris’s murder and figured he could quietly head back home, Mealtars was under attack. They didn’t even have time to catch their breath, much less celebrate. Understandably, Ninym thought all hope was lost—but her master apparently had other plans.
“Yeah. There’s no question we can wrap this up while still keeping everything vague and not getting a single thing done.”
It’s a long shot, though, Wein thought. Even if he’d had all the time in the world to prepare, he wasn’t completely sure it would work. Plus, there were too many variables in their current situation.
“I’ll need time to put this plan together. How can we stall ’em…?” Wein wondered.
Ninym agonized for a moment. “For now, I’ll bring tea and snacks. They’ve finally agreed on what happened to Prince Tigris. We’ve all earned a break.”
“Yeah, you’re right. If we do that—” Wein started, when a knock came at the door.
“Pardon me, Your Highness. A letter has just arrived.”
A subordinate held out the missive. When Ninym accepted it, a look of surprise flashed across her features. She passed it to Wein.
“This is…”
Looking at the wax seal, Wein understood why Ninym was so confounded. He broke it and read over its contents in a matter of seconds.
“Hold off on the tea, Ninym,” he said with a grin.
“And call Falanya here.”
Elsewhere, Falanya was sitting across from Cosimo in a reception room.
“I am terribly sorry that I could not assist in Prince Wein’s dilemma despite your assistance to me in the past. I must apologize that I need to depart these lands with hardly a farewell.”
“Please think nothing of it, Mayor Cosimo. It was not under your control, and the charges against my brother have been cleared.”
Falanya gave a modest smile as Cosimo bowed his head. A mayor did not have grounds to say anything about the assassination of a Holy Elite.
Furthermore, Falanya’s lodgings had been surrounded by guards who wouldn’t allow a single person passage. Even if Cosimo could have done something, there was no question that his visit would only create more issues.
Plus, just as he was thanking the heavens that Wein had been cleared of suspicion, Cosimo was tossed in the fire. Although there was clearly no time for good-byes, he had managed to carve out a few moments anyway.
“On to more important topics, Mayor Cosimo. What’s happening in Mealtars…?”
“An army led by Prince Bardloche has already entered the city and is currently defending it…or so I hear.”
Cosimo’s expression soured. Mealtars primarily functioned as an autonomous city of merchants, but now they were being attacked by the West and had allowed the Imperial army to stand guard within its walls. One might see the situation as an affront on Mealtars’s independence.
“I was aware that the aristocrats in Cavarin were growing resentful, but to think they would go this far… If I had been present, perhaps we could have avoided disaster at the last minute…”
Falanya had heard from Wein that Caldmellia was behind all this. If that was the case, the director had likely factored in Cosimo’s absence from the city in her calculations.
“…I wonder what will become of Mealtars,” Falanya said.
“Now that they have attacked our city, I have no choice but to insist the fault lies with Cavarin. I am hoping for a swift resolution.”
It was easier said than done. Cavarin resented Mealtars, and Prince Bardloche was using this opportunity to flex his power. It wouldn’t be easy to stop everything. Cosimo sweat at the mere thought of it.
“If there is anything I can do…”
“Your kindness is more than enough. Unfortunately, Natra is still in a difficult situation even though Prince Wein’s name has been cleared. Princess Falanya, you should direct your efforts toward aiding your homeland.”
Cosimo was right. Falanya had heard that once the Gathering was back in session, Natra would be pressured to choose a side. Wein seemed intent on bypassing this step, but Falanya didn’t have the slightest idea how. Not only that, she was starting to come to terms with her own weakness and the truth that diplomacy was a war fought with more than swords.
A knock came at the door.
“Pardon me, Princess Falanya… Ah, I see you are still here as well, Mayor Cosimo. Excellent timing.”
Sirgis was before them. He had holed himself up in his room to mull over his thoughts; his sudden appearance had to signal he was finished.
“Do you have business with me, Sirgis?”
“Yes. I have finally finished gathering my thoughts,” he replied. “I believe you are both already aware of the situation in Mealtars. —Princess Falanya, Mayor Cosimo. I have a proposal for you.”
Several days passed since the news about Mealtars broke. Lushan was in a panicked state of uncertainty. The citizens had been thrilled when it was announced that the Gathering of the Chosen would be held in their fair city. That all changed, however, with Prince Tigris’s death and the outbreak of war in Mealtars. They had no clue what was going on anymore.
“What will become of us…?” asked the people. No one across the land could provide an answer.
After all, the Gathering was about to resume, and the answer depended on its outcome—
Wein had been the topic at the previous session of the Gathering of the Chosen, but the meeting on this day was different. Although the same members were in attendance, the Holy Elites’ attention was now on Skrei.
“…I understand that the incident in Mealtars has happened. A portion of the aristocrats from my country have attacked the city, and the Imperial army has stepped in to defend it,” Skrei said gravely. He had underlined his own weakness, and the audience gathered around him pulled no punches.
“So how do you plan on taking responsibility for this problem, King of Cavarin? This situation involves not just your nation, but the entirety of the West,” Gruyere replied.
“The Empire was busy with their own mess and held off on meddling with Western affairs. You’ve shot an arrow at a sleeping dragon,” Agata added.
It was here that Skrei’s already dark expression grew dismal.
“…The aristocrats who participated in the attack on Mealtars will be stripped of their titles and have their lands confiscated. I have ordered my vassals in Cavarin to form an army and subjugate them as if they were bandits. I will see this through.”
“And do you think the Empire and those aristocrats will wait around doing nothing while you get your army together?” Gruyere questioned.
“I have doubts you even can suppress them. Isn’t there a chance your vassals and army will sympathize with them?” Agata asked.
“Th-that would never…!”
“Can you really claim that would never happen? Their lack of respect for you is the reason this happened in the first place.”
Skrei had no answer for that. He could not deny that he lacked prestige. That was why he tried to become a Holy Elite…which had led him down this disastrous route.
“Hold on! Now isn’t the time to be attacking King Skrei!”
Miroslav quickly rushed to his aid. However, the cards were not in his favor.
“‘Attacking’ him, you say? We’re just criticizing his stupid excuses.”
“King Gruyere is right. Even after everything that’s happened, he’s claiming he can do the impossible.”
“Ngh…!”
Gruyere, Agata, and Miroslav had no mercy. Steel, Caldmellia, and the Holy King observed in silence. Seeing as this was due to his own blunder, Skrei stood there without doing anything.
And what’s my next move…?
Wein’s mind raced as he evaluated the situation.
Right now, the aristocrats and Imperial troops are staring each other down in Mealtars. Under normal circumstances, this would be an issue between the two countries, but every Holy Elite except Miroslav thinks it should involve the whole Western continent. They want to force King Skrei to pay reparations while they play the role of innocent victims.
Wein and Natra had nothing to do with any of it. As long as no one called on him, Wein could simply melt into the background.
Fat chance of that happening, though. Gruyere and Agata are going after King Skrei, but I know Caldmellia has plans for me.
The question was when and how. Wein watched Caldmellia as the gears in his mind turned. She looked over at him and smiled. Wein’s face twisted.
“—What if we started by sending a special envoy of Levetia?” Agata suggested. “I wouldn’t call it ‘fortunate,’ per se…but the Imperial army is focused on defending Mealtars. If we act now, I believe there is still room for negotiation.”
“In that case, I’ll go…!” Skrei cried out, but Agata shook his head.
“The future of every Western nation is at stake. It’s not a mission for someone without a single accomplishment to his name.”
“Hmph, then who fits the bill?” Gruyere asked, and Agata’s gaze turned to Wein.
“Prince Wein is smart and resourceful, and he has ties to the Empire. There is no one else who compares.”
Oh?
This threw Wein off guard. If he was chosen as the special envoy, he’d be in direct negotiations with the Empire. If things worked out, it wouldn’t be wrong to say Wein could stress the value of Natra’s relationship with the Empire and maintain their alliance. This was his chance.
Maybe he’s trying to do me a solid after the whole deal with Tigris’s assassination.
Agata’s expression gave nothing away, and Wein mentally thanked him. However…
“—Sir Agata, I’m afraid that is impossible.”
Caldmellia cut in before Wein could reply.
“Please recall the event that occurred only several days ago. Prince Tigris was killed by the Empire. How could we possibly negotiate with such people?”
“Hrmm…”
Wein tsked inside, and Agata looked disheartened. The conspiracy theory had been accepted as the truth, which helped get both Wein and Agata out of a lot of trouble. Rehashing it now wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Hidden motives aside, there was no way that the Holy Elites would agree to negotiate with the people who had killed one of their own and had yet to pay for their crimes. If something like that went public, it would undermine the authority as an organization.
According to Caldmellia, that is. The other Elites raised no objections.
Well, I guess I knew I would have to can my idea for a “Moderate” Anti-Empire Party.
His problems were from here on out. How could Wein resolve this without negotiation?
As he watched the proceedings carefully, Gruyere asked a question. “Lady Caldmellia. What do you plan to do?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Declare a Holy War. We will deploy our army in Levetia’s name and come to Cavarin’s aid. However,” she added, “the scale will not be the same as the last time we sent soldiers to Mealtars. This time, the Holy Elites will deal with the matter by combining their forces.”
Everyone except the Holy King was thrown by this.
During the year prior, the Imperial fight for succession had broken out in Mealtars. At the time, Levetia had sent troops under the pretext of saving believers caught in the conflict. There were about six thousand soldiers in number, all pious volunteers. It was Levetia’s source of military power.
A combined army was a different story. To bolster the volunteer soldiers, the homelands of each Holy Elite would be mobilizing their own forces. In addition, countries without a Holy Elite would offer a fraction of their troops, too. How much power would they have then?
“Wait! Isn’t it true that the Imperial army in Mealtars doesn’t even amount to five thousand soldiers?! Striking them with an allied force would be overkill!”
Agata’s protests held some truth, but Caldmellia wasn’t about to give in.
“That is precisely what the Imperial army wants you to think, Sir Agata. Believing that their only goal is to defend Mealtars when Cavarin—an already exhausted nation—is right there is far too optimistic. If we underestimate them and believe it is enough to threaten them with a few thousand soldiers, they will invade Cavarin. After all, the Empire can claim they were attacked first.”
It wasn’t too far-fetched. There were probably a few in the Empire who had the same idea. If all went well, they’d set foot in the West.
“As for King Skrei, neither His Holiness nor I have any intention of pressing any charges. It is only natural that Prince Tigris’s death, the recklessness of a few aristocrats, and the swift deployment of soldiers to Mealtars were all part of the Empire’s plan to invade Cavarin.”
Caldmellia pinned the blame on the Empire although this was entirely her own doing.
“The target of our resentment should be the Empire. Arguing among ourselves will only benefit them. We ought to pour our energies into combining our strengths to drive the Empire back.”
She was trying to say, They’ll stop attacking if you shut up and agree to work together.
Of course, both Miroslav and Skrei had figured out that it was Caldmellia who had come up with this plan, not the Empire. Going up against her, however, would only make them a target for more criticism. They had no choice but to nod.
“…I’ll agree to the alliance. How about you, King Skrei?”
“I approve as well. I hope to atone by aiding our combined forces.”
Caldmellia gave a satisfied smile before turning to Gruyere, Steel, and Agata. “What do you think?”
“I don’t mind,” Steel immediately replied. “A unified army formed by the Holy Elites… Enough soldiers to fill the land… It sparks creativity. I vow to persuade my king.”
His perspective on life was as strange as always, but if he said he’d do it, then he would.
Next to him, Gruyere asked a question. “Does His Holiness really want this alliance?”
“But of course.” Caldmellia looked at the Holy King next to her. He remained silent but gave a small yet unmistakable nod.
“…Okay. In that case, you have my army as well.”
By this point, Agata couldn’t possibly refuse. He was the one acting in opposition the other day so the Holy Elites would accept his conspiracy theory; Caldmellia was trying to do the same exact thing.
“Now that we are all in agreement, there is one more thing we must decide.”
Wondering what it could be, they all looked at her expectantly.
Caldmellia continued, “The representative of this joint front will, of course, be the Holy King. His Holiness’s top priority, however, is praying for peace unto all believers. We will require a supreme commander to lead the alliance.”
She made a good point. Even if you physically brought together a combined army, they’d be nothing more than a disorderly mass without strategy. Having said that, a recluse like Silverio couldn’t lead them, seeing that he’d never left Lushan.
“I believe you would be the most apt choice, King Gruyere. Will you be up to it?” Caldmellia questioned.
Despite Gruyere’s appearance, he was the greatest military mind of the Holy Elites and the most spiritual by far. He was a decent candidate, but—
“I won’t do it,” he replied. “I would never take on a position when there are other people better equipped for this job. I’m not shameless.”
“There’s someone better than you, King Gruyere…?” Agata asked.
The others looked at the king in confusion, and Gruyere shifted his gaze. “Isn’t the man who beat me sitting right there?”
Everyone’s eyes followed his line of sight and landed on Wein, who had been trying his very best to be invisible.
—WHAAAAA?! Wein screamed inside. Damn it, Gruyere! I finally made ’em forget I was here!
Wein gave him the worst death glare he could muster, but Gruyere blew it off. The prince offered a bright smile, gritting his teeth.
“…I’m honored you think so highly of me, but that battle was sheer luck. You excel me in the art of war, King Gruyere.”
“Oh? So you’re saying I was taken down by chance?”
You aren’t funny, you hog! Wein’s mind raced as he mentally cursed out Gruyere.
“I suppose I can if I have no choice…but I’m still young and inexperienced. I was only permitted to attend the Gathering of the Chosen on special invitation. I do not possess the skill needed to lead the Holy Elite.”
The Holy Elites looked both satisfied and relieved. Unlike Gruyere, they must have been hesitant to make him supreme commander.
Caldmellia thought otherwise. “Will appointing you as a Holy Elite solve the matter, Prince Wein?”
The round table stirred.
Her words seemed to suggest that Wein couldn’t command them only because he wasn’t a Holy Elite. In that case, she seemed to say, he should become one. It was simple, straightforward—but the position of Holy Elite couldn’t be bestowed on just anyone.
“Wait, Lady Caldmellia!” Miroslav reacted before Wein even had a chance. “A person can only become a Holy Elite once their faith, bloodline, dedication, and abilities have been accepted by all people! Even if he has the rank needed to lead a joint military alliance between royalty and nobility, is making him a Holy Elite for that sole purpose necessary?!”
“You’re right. That is why the most appropriate answer is to make the position temporary. If our joint war proves successful, he will take those honors and be welcomed as an official member. What do you think?”
Caldmellia turned to Skrei and smiled. “Depending on the outcome, I think we might see others worthy of becoming a Holy Elite on the battlefield. I shall take it into consideration together with the Holy King.”
“Th-that’s…”
Wein was stunned by Caldmellia’s silver tongue. From proposing a combined army to suggesting Wein be appointed as supreme commander, there were issues around every corner. It wasn’t as if she and Gruyere were any sort of team, but when the topic of supreme commander came up and the king volunteered Wein, she rolled right with it…and dangled the chance to become a Holy Elite in front of Wein and Skrei.
Caldmellia was starting to dominate the conversation. Unable to shake the feeling it was already too late, Wein tried to cut in anyway.
“…I understand. If the other Holy Elites have no objections, I will lead our united army under those conditions.”
Somebody say something, Wein begged as he waited several seconds. All remained complicitly silent.
Guess my fate is sealed…
Wein gave an anguished sigh. If he became the supreme commander of this combined army, he’d have no choice but to break off his alliance with the Empire. And once the West joined together to encroach on their national borders, the Empire wouldn’t just sit back and watch it happen. The Imperial children would pause their race for the throne and form a united front to deal with the threat. Once that happened, the situation would get out of hand. The Western allies would refuse to give up without something to show for it, and the Empire wouldn’t want to lose its reputation as a unifying force. Neither would be able to yield, and there was a possibility that it would devolve into an ugly clash between East and West.
That’s exactly what Caldmellia wants, and that’s where she’ll goad them.
That’s why the following thought struck Wein.
Ugh. Good thing I planned ahead.
The door to the reception room opened.
“Please pardon the interruption! A report has come in that the Imperial army is stirring!”
The eyes of every Holy Elite turned toward the messenger.
“So they’re already on the move. Did they leave Mealtars to invade Cavarin?” Miroslav wondered.
The messenger shook his head. “No, the situation in Mealtars has come to a standstill. There have been no changes!”
“What’re you talking about?” Miroslav frowned. “If Mealtars isn’t the problem, where are they coming from?”
The messenger paused for a moment before practically yelling the answer.
“—The Imperial army has appeared along the eastern border of Natra!”
The Earthworld Empire. The independent territory of Antgadull in the Gairan State.
East of the Natra Kingdom, Lowellmina stood in the lands governed by Marquis Antgadull.
“I was here just a short while ago, but it feels like it’s been forever,” she said as she gazed outside the tent. “Seeing our army lined up especially reminds me of a certain memory.”
Rows of soldiers were spread out before Lowellmina, around five thousand of them. These were the genuine Imperial forces.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked. The princess looked next to her.
A handsome man in the prime of life stood next to her and wore a bitter expression. Grinahae Antgadull. Marquis Antgadull was the one who governed these lands and had an extensive past with both Lowellmina and Wein.
“Ah, please be at ease. I don’t mean to sound caustic. I haven’t come here only to tease you.”
“…I understand you would not spare time for trivial matters. This is precisely why I don’t understand. Why have you stationed our troops along the border of Natra? You informed me that it is to suppress a group of bandits, but that’s rare in this region, especially so close to winter…”
“It’s basically impossible. No mountain bandits would consider settling down here; they would head farther south.”
Lowellmina hugged her body. Even in the fall, it was cold enough to chill you to the bone. Unless you were the type of person bounding with excess energy, it wasn’t the type of place you’d want to visit for long.
“In that case, are you provoking Natra as some sort of gag? I heard that you have maintained friendly relations with them, Princess. It would be a great loss if your actions created a fissure between you.”
“Don’t worry. I will receive permission from Natra…no, from Wein, in the near future.”
“‘Receive permission’…?”
Lowellmina had sent one thousand soldiers to the border of a neighboring nation to fight invisible bandits. Would she be permitted by said ally nation to do so? Grinahae tilted his head.
“Just don’t worry about it. As long as you gather our men, Marquis Antgadull, that is enough. After all, I could never accomplish that.”
“Yes… Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
A look of dissatisfaction on his face, Grinahae bowed and left the tent.
After seeing him off, Fyshe spoke up, having stood at attention beside Lowellmina this whole time. “Is it all right to leave this to Marquis Antgadull?”
“It’s fine. He won’t betray me anytime soon, and he is at least skilled enough to organize our troops,” Lowellmina replied. “Frankly, my own faction has me more worried!”
“We did scramble to piece it together…”
Even though Lowellmina claimed it was to fight bandits, she was met with skepticism from her faction. After all, they never did have a great relationship to begin with. After coaxing her party and getting Grinahae to rally some soldiers together, she’d finally gathered this army of one thousand people.
“I have my doubts, to be honest. Is there this much value in aiding him—in aiding Prince Wein?”
“Oh yeah, totally,” Lowellmina replied with a confident nod. “You know that Bardloche’s faction has been acting weird, right?”
“Yes. They have managed to gather soldiers and supplies even though they have not yet recovered from the recent faction war… As soon as news of Cavarin’s attack on Mealtars hit and everyone was wondering what to do, he mobilized his forces. It’s as if he knew about it ahead of time.”
“He must have known. Someone instigated a war that works in his favor just as his faction was falling apart. Goodness, Bardloche, someone is taking advantage of you.” Lowellmina shrugged her shoulders. “Plus, Bardloche sprung to action while the Gathering of the Chosen is under way in the West. Skrei of Cavarin and Wein of Natra were invited to this conference. If the group decides to work together, well, it’s easy to imagine what will happen next. I bet Wein will be pressured to nullify his alliance with the Empire and join in the battle between East and West.”
Fyshe groaned when she heard Lowellmina’s prospective outlook. As things stood, she could already tell there was a good chance that Wein was beginning driven to make this choice. What surprised her most, however, was that Lowellmina had deployed her army almost as soon as Imperial Prince Bardloche departed for Mealtars.
Couldn’t she have stopped Prince Bardloche earlier? Fyshe wondered.
“I could have.” Lowellmina replied as if she’d read her mind, and Fyshe jumped from her skin. “I didn’t, though. I mean, he’s got to start drowning before I can hold out straw and demand favors.”
The princess flashed her a bold smile. Fyshe was struck by her mistress’s frightening ways for a moment before venturing to make another comment.
“…But Your Highness, I still don’t understand. Is placing our army along the borders of Natra really going to aid Prince Wein?”
Lowellmina smiled once again. “Fyshe, you continue to underestimate Wein’s depravity. Fear not, it’ll be effective, I assure you. And knowing Wein, he will offer a fair reward in return.”
“…But what if it doesn’t go well?”
“…I’ll go on an apology tour to see all my faction leaders. Give me a month.”
You’re killing me here, Fyshe mentally groaned. She had no idea what was happening in Lushan or what would come next, but she prayed Prince Wein was working his ass off.
Just then…
“Pardon me! A letter from Natra!”
A messenger raced into the tent and handed it to Lowellmina. She carefully broke the wax seal, looked over the contents, and—
“—Wonderful,” she breathed out with a sweet smile. “As always, Wein, you know exactly what I seek.”
“Your Highness, what is…?”
“We’ve won the game. Send a message to Grinahae. We’ll stay at the border for now. Ah, and fudge our numbers, so we seem bigger than we actually are.”
What was written in that letter, and what was happening in the West? From what Fyshe could tell by Lowellmina’s attitude, Prince Wein must have messed up again somehow.
Charmed by her mistress’s cheerful mood, Fyshe bowed politely.
“The Imperial army…”
“…Is it waiting along the borders of Natra…?!”
It was totally unexpected. Everyone had their eyes on Mealtars, thinking it was at the center of events. All other places had been overlooked, making the perfect opportunity for a surprise attack. It was an ambush. The Holy Elites panicked, and—
“Oh my. We’re in a pickle, huh?”
They noticed Wein’s blasé attitude and understood…that this was his doing.
“Prince Wein, this is—”
“Yes. As you all fear, the Empire might launch a simultaneous attack. Cavarin is not the only target; my own kingdom is under threat, too. It appears the sleeping dragon has woken up ravenous,” Wein explained brazenly.
Miroslav broke into a roar. “Why would Natra be under attack?! You and the Empire are on friendly terms!”
“You might say our friendship is over. They are a group of cowards who killed Prince Tigris, after all. A sudden betrayal isn’t out of line.”
It’s a bluff, everyone told themselves.
The Empire had no intention of attacking the border of Natra. They were only keeping their forces there to make it look like they were cooperating with the Imperial army in Mealtars.
And in truth, they predicted right.
Damn, Lowa is too smart for her own good.
A letter had arrived several days before the Gathering resumed. It was from Lowellmina to Wein. She had caught wind of Prince Bardloche’s activities, predicted Wein’s present situation, and placed her own troops along the border. Her message was essentially, Pay me if you want me to keep them there. ★
Wein immediately wrote down a price in response. She was probably reading it right now.
“…I understand the gravity of the situation,” Caldmellia stated. Her gaze was somewhat sharper than before. “But this does not change what must be done. We have to combine our armies and overthrow the Empire.”
It was a reasonable proposition. This was a sudden turn of events, and an already dangerous enemy had become a greater threat. That said, they were still up against the same beast as before.
…That’s exactly why something feels off, Miroslav thought as he felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.
This had to be a bluff, but since they had no proof, Miroslav could only accept Wein’s story that the Imperial troops had suddenly appeared on his borders.
The problem was how to address this situation.
“—Heh.”
Miroslav suddenly heard a small laugh and looked over at Gruyere. Had he picked up on something?
Wein spoke up. “You’re right, Caldmellia. Our objective has not changed. However, there is one more matter I wish to discuss. Would you mind?”
“Not at all. What could it be?” she asked.
Wein beamed. “—Both Natra and Cavarin are under attack by the Empire. Which one will we save?”
Everyone at the table finally realized Wein’s plan.
Who is this beast…?!
Skrei was in awe of Wein.
Just moments ago, Wein was being forced to choose between East and West.
But now, the script had flipped. The Holy Elites had to make a momentous decision of their own and pick between Natra or Cavarin.
It’s unbelievable… Did he know this would happen?!
It was terrifying. Skrei couldn’t help but tremble at the horror. Wein’s statement had just placed Cavarin back in a critical position.
“…Cavarin, obviously, if we need to pick a side!” Miroslav called out next to Skrei and in visible torment. “There’s already open hostility, and the aristocrats are running loose in Cavarin. We should focus on overpowering them and reestablishing order!”
“In that case, I will relinquish the role of supreme commander,” Wein replied. “As the crown prince of Natra, I must protect my kingdom. If this alliance is going to forsake Natra, I will return to my country and fight the Empire on my own.”
“Grr…!”
Right. If I prioritize my own nation, Prince Wein will do the same for Natra.
In a logical sense, Miroslav was right; their combined forces should head for Cavarin first. After all, Natra had a secret arrangement with the Empire, so the country wasn’t in imminent danger. There was no proof, however, of this hidden agenda, and if the Holy Elites publicly announced a preference for Cavarin, both Wein and Natra would demand justice for the West abandoning them in their time of need.
If maybe, just maybe, all of this was part of his strategy… That would mean the Holy Elites fell into Wein’s trap as they were trying to corner him themselves…!
No way in hell…!
Miroslav rejected the same concerns as Skrei.
He couldn’t have predicted something so complicated! He took advantage of the situation and talked his way out of trouble! If we can get his back against the wall, I know his cover will be blown!
Miroslav was trying to convince himself. He wasn’t certain about it. He knew that vaguely, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“It’s not like we’re abandoning Natra! It’s just a matter of priority!”
“For a small country like Natra, that can be fatal, Prince Miroslav. If you believe Natra has the strength to oppose the Empire on its own, I am afraid you’re sorely mistaken.”
“…Fine! Then we’ll split up the army!” Miroslav shouted, slamming the table. “We’ll send some to Cavarin and some to Natra and fight the Empire on both sides.”
“I can’t accept that,” Gruyere cut in next to him. “Dispersing our troops is moronic. Plus, our enemy is the Empire. I’m firmly opposed.”
You bloody swiiiiiiine! Miroslav cursed Gruyere, as the king sneered at him. If he’d had it on him, Miroslav would have drawn his sword then and there, but this Gathering had a “no weapons” rule.
There was a part of him, however, that knew he wouldn’t have made it further than unsheathing his blade. During the last conference King Ordalasse had died. And now, Prince Tigris. He knew another death, including Wein’s, would totally destroy the Gathering of the Chosen.
What should I do?! It’s not like I can ditch Cavarin! But if I do that, Wein will leave the Gathering!
Maybe he could drive Natra away and make an enemy out of them. No, that was a mistake waiting to happen. From this incident alone, Miroslav understand that getting on Wein’s bad side wouldn’t end well. The safer option was for Wein to stay neutral and divide his attention between East and West.
Not to mention the fact that if any country sympathizes with Natra, we run the risk of souring relationships in the West…!
The one with most potential to do that was Soljest Kingdom. The giant of a king could be both levelheaded and impulsive. Gruyere seemed like the type of person who’d say, Sure, why not join Wein and destroy the West? just for fun.
Shit! What do I do…?!
As he watched Miroslav brood in misery next to him, Agata remained relatively calm.
So what is Prince Wein plotting next?
At the moment, Wein was threatening them by playing a certain card—one that said, I’ll leave if you don’t pick me. Is that what you really want? You sure? It was Wein who would be in trouble if they did choose Natra.
Will you work something out to your favor as consolation for the Holy Elite prioritizing Cavarin? Your aim is to maintain your alliance with the Empire, but this involves both the West and the Empire. Even if the West will allow it, I doubt the Empire will thank you for defying them by joining an allied army.
If Wein had intended on heading into the Empire, he would have hurried and left the table already. The fact he was still here meant he had some goal in mind. Unlike a short while ago, however, Agata could not sense any desire in Wein to go forth and engage the enemy.
If anything, it’s like he’s waiting for something…
Agata gasped.
It can’t be…Is that your end game?!
Agata looked at the prince with wide eyes. Wein turned to him and grinned.
—YOU GOT IT!
Wein was buying time.
From the get-go, this alliance was made on the assumption that the Empire would attack Cavarin. But in reality, that’s never gonna happen!
Everyone across the continent knew that the recent civil war had sapped the Empire of its strength. This applied to each of the Imperial children’s factions, too. If you asked Lowellmina to invade Cavarin, she’d reply, Seriously? Not now. Could we wait until spring?
This was the case for Bardloche’s army in Mealtars, too. If he wanted to invade, he’d need a constant stream of supplies and people, but his faction couldn’t afford it at the moment. Even if Bardloche tried to mobilize troops outside his own faction, he was not Emperor and therefore had no authority to do so. If anything, it wouldn’t be strange at all if he was criticized for acting on his own authority and quickly brought to the Imperial prime minister.
Now that Bardloche has rushed to Mealtars’s aid and made a show out of chasing out Cavarin, his job is done. If he gets into a real battle now, it’s gonna wear his faction out.
Once that happened, Lowellmina would have a scheme ready that sounded something like, You were so brave to bear the brunt of the attack, brother. Anyway, I have a shady deal for you that will keep you stuck on the front lines until you’re crushed. Wein had to avoid this at all costs, so he was guesstimating when and how Bardloche would withdraw.
The aristocrats from Cavarin running wild right now are still just a tiny fraction of the nobility.
Even Caldmellia couldn’t get every noble in the country caught up in her backdoor schemes. It wouldn’t be long before a subjugation army came together to take them down. If the merchants of Mealtars made concessions, this would speed up the process even further.
In other words, as long as I just hang around here, I’ll be home free!
If there weren’t any more surprises, the aristocrats would be defeated, Bardloche would withdraw, and the allied army would lose its reason to attack. Skrei would have a good cry afterward, but that was no big deal.
Well, like I said before coming here— I’m going to make this Gathering of the Chosen the most draining, pointless, and unproductive meeting ever.
Wein opened his mouth to throw the Gathering into further disarray.
—Then, a full week passed.
The Gathering of the Chosen was becoming a series of rabbit trails.
When this rumor first made its way around the city, most people laughed it off. Then, a week passed by, and no news came from the Agency of the Holy King, even though the Holy Elite were meeting every day.
It was obvious to everyone why the Gathering of the Chosen had suddenly run aground.
“What’s going on with that fight in Mealtars?”
“I hear they’re combining armies.”
“You know, I heard people have been stockpiling food.”
“Sh-should we stash some away, too?”
Anxiety gripped the townspeople, and some began to act on their own. Only the minority, however. Most of the citizens continued to pray that the representatives of the West, the Holy Elites, would quickly come up with a plan of action.
Their prayers, unfortunately, were in vain. The Gathering of the Chosen was all over the place. There was still a semblance of conversation up until the third day, but after that, each person gradually grew more taciturn. Now on the seventh day, a suffocating silence hung over the meeting hall.
No one said a word anymore. After all, Wein deftly circumvented each and every subject.
Damn you, Wein…!
Miroslav gritted his teeth. The past seven days had been a waste of time. All attempts at conversation were either interrupted or stopped before they began.
Wein wasn’t the only culprit. On the third day, Gruyere and Agata—those who were against joining forces—hopped on board Wein’s time-killing strategy. On top of that, the two people who could oppose them—Caldmellia and Steel—removed themselves from the conversation. Even Skrei grew increasingly passive and began to think they were better off waiting for the situation to peter out than discussing an alliance among them.
By this point, Miroslav was the only one still actively voicing the threat the Empire posed, and nothing of value was lost. He was better off excusing himself from this colossal waste of time, but nothing in the situation had been resolved yet. There was a chance that a big development might occur after he withdrew and allowed the other Holy Elites to turn the conversation in their favor while he was away. He’d be a fool to leave now.
So this was the result. Several heads of state and similar leaders were submerged together in this unbearable bog of silence. Wein was the only one who still had any life in him.
If I could at least get Caldmellia and Steel on my side…
Since Caldmellia was the first to suggest the alliance, Miroslav really could have used her help, but she offered no such thing. Probably because she could immediately tell Wein would flip it around on them and turn their hopes to dust.
In addition, you could never tell what Steel was thinking. But since he agreed with Caldmellia’s plan, Miroslav figured the man would put up a bit of a fight against Wein—
…Huh?
It was then that Miroslav noticed Steel was absent from the round table.
He had definitely been there when they’d initially gathered for the day. When did he get up? Steel didn’t seem like the type of person to get fed up with the stagnant discussion and go home.
Steel appeared in the doorway at this moment.
“How did it go, Duke Steel?”
“It’s arrived.” Steel smiled and answered Caldmellia’s question with a nod.
The conversation cut through the stale air and piqued the interests of the Holy Elites.
“What’s arrived, Duke Steel?” Miroslav asked.
“A report from the army I dispatched to Mealtars.”
Although Steel’s nonchalant answer was brief, it took Miroslav several seconds to process this information.
“…Wait! What’re you talking about, Duke Steel?!”
“I’m the one who made the request when we first heard the Imperial army had appeared in Mealtars,” Caldmellia interrupted with a sweet smile. “It would be terrible if the Empire attacked Cavarin while we are still discussing our plan of action. I asked Duke Steel to send reinforcements for the time being.”
“Please wait! Couldn’t you have mentioned this to me?!” Skrei exclaimed. Even he hadn’t been included in the conversation.
“I do apologize. If I had made this information too public, it would have brought unnecessary trouble,” Caldmellia answered as she glanced over at Wein. “I did it to protect the good people of the West from the evil influence of the Empire. I hope you can understand.”
“B-but anyone would see entry into my nation without prior warning as an invasion! What if they had encountered my own forces en route?”
“They would understand once they read the letter from His Holiness,” Steel replied. “Besides, if they did present a problem, I was instructed to turn everything to ash, so we were certain to arrive in Mealtars without issue.”
“Wha…?!”
It was a one-sided argument. Skrei was disgusted rather than enraged. He knew “turn to ash” referred to not only the entire army of Cavarin but Mealtars as well. If Mealtars burned, the Empire would never take it lying down. What did any of this have to do with sending reinforcements to Cavarin? Caldmellia and Steel couldn’t have cared less about the outcome of the Gathering. They’d been planning to start a war between East and West since the very beginning.
“So how are things, Duke Steel?”
“Just a moment.” Steel looked at everyone and opened a letter. After looking over the contents for a few moments, his lips broke into a small smile.
“—Marvelous,” he said, his gaze reaching farther down the table. “You’ve predicted everything correctly, Prince Wein.”
Everyone present widened their eyes, and they turned to look at Wein in his seat.
Wein smirked as the Holy Elites stared at him.
“…So, you shall withdraw under these conditions.”
Meanwhile… In the mayor’s office in the merchant city of Mealtars, Cosimo squared off with Prince Bardloche.
“I’ll hold up my end of the bargain… But this is a fortune.”
“We understand that we must pay heavily for our mistakes.”
After Cosimo returned to Mealtars, he immediately met with Bardloche, who was the representative of the stationed soldiers. While he was grateful to them for protecting Mealtars, Cosimo demanded that they withdraw without needlessly antagonizing the army from Cavarin once the legion of aristocrats was suppressed.
The negotiations proceeded smoothly. Bardloche had been looking for a moment to withdraw since the very beginning, and Cosimo had prepared a budget to facilitate a speedy resolution. By promising their support as a token of appreciation for defending the city, the deal was swiftly finalized.
“Then, I’ll give the orders to withdraw. You—and your merchants—should take this opportunity to do more than chase money and build needless resentment.”
“Yes. We’ll take that to heart.”
Bardloche practically skipped out of the room. Soon after Cosimo watched him go, a door connecting to the adjacent room creaked open, and a face peeked out.
“Is it over?”
“It’s all been finalized.” Cosimo nodded as he looked at Falanya.
“Thank goodness. It would have been terrible if things took a turn for the worse.”
Falanya let out a sigh of relief. She had left Lushan for Mealtars with Cosimo just as Wein had instructed.
“Everything went just as Wein planned, didn’t it?”
“Yes. I would expect no less of the crown prince,” Cosimo replied. “I’m shocked. To think he’d get both the Empire and Patura involved.”
The sea breeze stroked his cheek. It was a familiar sensation and scent.
“I finally feel like I’ve come home now that we’re on the sea.”
Felite stood on the deck of a ship as they bobbed along the ocean.
“Was Lushan not to your liking?” asked the young girl named Apis, who served as his aide.
“It was an interesting change of pace, but this sea is my true home,” Felite replied, gazing out over the vast open sea. “Anyway, is the cargo safe?”
“Yes. The goods have been loaded on the prepared ships, which have safely departed. You know, I can’t believe we rounded up any and all available ships without much notice.”
“You don’t say. Prince Wein seems to only operate on a destructively large scale,” he agreed with a smile, nodding.
“Who would ever guess he’d buy up all the surplus food in the West?”
“…This is not good,” Lowellmina grumbled in a tent set up in the corner of an encampment along the borders of Natra.
“What’s the matter, Your Highness?” Fyshe meekly asked upon noticing her lady’s grave look.
Lowellmina’s expression was dead serious. “…I think I’ve gained weight.”
Fyshe silently turned on her heel.
“Fyshe! Wait! I’m not finished!”
“My loyalty has run dry.”
“This is serious! Listen, I’m an Imperial Princess and the leader of my faction! That means I’m the Empire’s greatest superstar! If I’m seen as a clumsy girl who can’t even take care of herself, my image and popularity will plummet! I must investigate the cause posthaste!”
“I see.” Fyshe nodded, though it was clear she couldn’t care less. “In other words, you have no idea what caused your little stomach pouch?”
“None whatsoever!”
“Maybe you could try and remember how you have been spending your time here?”
“Umm, since this isn’t a real camp, I’ve been shopping and eating in the nearby town, comparing local specialty dishes from different shops, and staying at hot spring resorts.”
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me.”
“FYYYYYSHE!” Lowellmina cried, grabbing Fyshe’s sleeve. “Don’t you think it’s strange?! We’ve both been doing the same thing, so if I’m gaining weight, shouldn’t you, too?!”
“Ah, it seems all nutrients go straight to my chest.”
“…Dark emotions flood me! I now understand why politicians purge their vassals…!”
As Lowellmina radiated a murderous aura, Fyshe let out a heavy sigh and thrust a letter in front of her face.
“This just arrived. It seems that Prince Bardloche has begun to move from Mealtars.”
“Hmph… It’s about time.” Lowellmina looked over the letter haughtily.
“—Very well. Please tell Grinahae to withdraw the troops.”
“Understood… It seems we will return to the palace triumphant.”
“Indeed. Thanks, Wein,” Lowellmina replied. “We’re going to normalize diplomatic relations with Patura. If this succeeds, I’ll manage to keep my faction in check.”
Buy up all the food in the West.
This was what immediately came to mind as soon as Wein heard what was happening in Mealtars. If he could buy time, Bardloche would withdraw. Wein was confident he could stall the Gathering of the Chosen.
However, what if some of the Holy Elites dismissed the meeting? What if they sent soldiers without telling anyone? What if the Gathering was tabled and war slowly broke out?
This concern compelled Wein to buy up all the food. Even the best army in the world couldn’t do anything without food. Not to mention it was the end of fall. Winter would soon be upon them, and this was the time everyone would be stockpiling food to last until spring in cities and villages. Surplus food was diminishing all across the West, and Wein knew that if he bought this up, all armies would be rendered immobile.
So, the next question was finding sales channels and assets. He had a solution to these, too—Lushan’s geographic terrain and the merchants of Mealtars.
Lushan was the heart of the Western continent, and it had routes leading to every nation in the West. The merchants from the central city had contacts all across the land and asset to spares. If Wein could use them, his plan stood more than a fair chance of succeeding.
Keyword: if.
Even if it’s to save Mealtars, I doubt the merchants will be eager to help me. Besides, even if I can use the market to buy up food, where am I going to put all of it? Mealtars is locked in battle, so there’s no way I can send it there.
A missive arrived while Wein mulled over this. A message from Lowellmina that said, I’ll help you out in return for a favor. When Wein saw this, inspiration struck.
Lowellmina needs a triumph to show off, and Felite wants to bridge their gap with the Empire! What if I can mediate between the two and improve relations? Lowellmina would get her victory! Felite would lend me boats to transport the food! And I could sell the information about the normalization to the merchants of Mealtars!
Wein immediately got to work, contacting Falanya and Cosimo and convincing the merchants by offering information in exchange for sales outlets and assets. He met with Felite, who, in exchange for Wein’s mediation, agreed to pack away the food bought by the merchants on boats and temporarily store it in Patura. Wein then promised Lowellmina that he would act as a liaison and proceeded to deal with the Gathering in a way that would buy time for his plans to line up—
“My army’s food supply has stagnated, and it seems they have determined it is impossible to advance. I bet it’s the same for any country that attempts to mobilize their forces. Military activity will be impossible until next year.”
Steel’s tone was bright and clear. Even though he’d been caught in Wein’s machinations, he seemed delighted.
Buying up all the food… If that’s really what’s going on, then it’ll be impossible to maintain a long-term campaign even if our armies can operate for the time being. We could commandeer all the towns’ supplies, but—
Miroslav got that far and shook his head. If their allied armies did that, famine would spread through the West and give rise to distrust and mutiny against Levetia. The alliance was meant to safeguard the safety and order of the West. Such an act would be getting their priorities backward.
What’s going on…?! Did he seriously predict all this?!
A chill ran down Miroslav’s spine. Wein had seemed like a normal man, but now he came off as an unfathomable monster.
“—Fwa-ha-ha-ha!” Gruyere suddenly broke into laughter. He continued chortling and snapped his fingers. His attendants raced over with a pedestal and balanced it on their shoulders as Gruyere hefted himself on to it.
“That was an engaging spectacle. Well, time to head home.”
“K-King Gruyere?! The Gathering isn’t over yet!”
“Oh, but it is. It ended just now. There’s nothing else to see here.”
Gruyere briefly looked at Miroslav, who was baffled by his actions, and casually left the meeting hall. All the Holy Elites were shocked. It was Steel who spoke.
“Shall we proceed, Lady Caldmellia?”
“…No. As King Gruyere has mentioned, there is nothing more to discuss.”
Steel nodded and turned next to Wein. “Prince Wein. You’re sublime. I do hope you’ll play with me next time.”
“I would rather enjoy a peaceful life.”
“Boooring… Oh, I know. In that case, I shall enjoy your younger sister’s company instead.”
“…Come again?” Wein asked, his face twisting in displeasure.
“Heh-heh. Well then, until next time.” Steel gave one last radiant smile before leaving the Gathering.
“…I shall hurry to my homeland as well. I must restore order.”
Skrei was the next to leave. Miroslav followed suit and stood.
“I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Thank you, Prince Miroslav.”
In the end, Skrei was never appointed as a Holy Elite, and his country was a mess. It was a terrible outcome, considering it would take him substantial time and money to rebuild his nation.
But maybe he should thank his lucky stars, even though evil forces of nature had their fun with him. After all, a Holy Elite had been killed both during the last two Gatherings.
“…You’re as resourceful as the rumors say,” Agata said once Skrei and Miroslav had left. “I see promise in you. There is something I wish to discuss. Let’s meet later.”
And with that, Agata departed. Only Wein, Caldmellia, and the Holy King remained.
“I suppose I have lost again, Prince Wein,” Caldmellia said. “It appears you are my greatest playmate.”
“…I couldn’t want anything less.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you are. After all, you’ve weeded out the rest, leaving only myself behind.”
“Oh?” Wein took a step toward Caldmellia. “And what makes you think you won’t join them here and now?”
“Do you want to try? I would not mind.”
They glared at each other for a few seconds. However, no clash ensued, and Wein turned on his heel with a snort.
“Later. I pray we never meet again.”
Caldmellia giggled, watching him walk away.
“Where do our prayers go in this godless world—?”