NOVEL WEB Book 4: Chapter 6
It took no time at all for news that Prince Demetrio had been poisoned to spread across the city. For better or worse, he had narrowly escaped death. The incident passed from a poison assassination to a failed attempt.
But that didn’t mean they could be relieved. Demetrio had yet to fully regain consciousness, and the criminal had not been caught yet. Those employed at the manor trembled with fear that they would be the ones blamed and executed, and the faces of the nobles in his faction turned pale at the thought of their uncertain future. Mayor Cosimo looked as if he might faint from the scandal.
As Wein racked his brains over how to weather through the situation, trouble arrived. The city guards had come running, requesting that everyone in the manor, Wein included, come with them to headquarters for questioning.
“Don’t be rude! Do you really think His Highness is the criminal?!”
With Ninym at the forefront, Wein’s attendants rose up in opposition. But the guards would not be moved. From their perspective, there was verbal testimony that the perpetrator had escaped, but there was also the possibility that Wein had compelled everyone on the scene to keep their mouths closed.
To restore their lost honor, the guards had to arrest the criminal. Even if he was the prince of a nation, they couldn’t let him off the hook so easily.
“There’s no other way, huh. I’ll go.” Wein finally gave in, seeing that arguing would be pointless.
But this led to rumors that Wein had been arrested as the assassin. The gossip of the town began to blow it out of proportion, as people speculated that the attempt on Demetrio’s life was the work of Natra and Lowellmina’s factions.
“Gweh?!” Wein imagined Lowellmina would cry out in the future when the news reached her ears.
But Wein had been loosely confined under the pretext of obtaining an oral statement, so he wouldn’t be there to hear it.
Three days then passed.
“I’m finally free!” Wein stretched lightly in front of the headquarters.
He’d just been released a short while beforehand, though they weren’t sure if he’d been cleared of all suspicion. But Wein was royalty. There was a chance he’d been freed for political reasons.
Because of this, he had to quickly collect all the information possible that he’d missed in his absence.
“Your Highness!” Ninym came racing toward him. “I apologize for being late…!”
“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for coming,” Wein told his aide, who he hadn’t seen for three days.
He’d left her with the task of noting changes in the city while he was confined.
“With all due respect, your complexion doesn’t seem well. Did they treat you unjustly during your confinement…?”
“No, I was just worried about the outside world, and I didn’t get much sleep. Sorry to cut to the chase, Ninym, but what’s been going on?”
“Yes…well, things are not looking good…”
Ninym proceeded to fill Wein in on the latest events.
The ones to make the first move were Demetrio and those around him.
After escaping death, it seemed he was too scared to stay in his current residence with his hazy memory. The summit was put on hold, and he told his subordinates they would return to his own domain posthaste. Since their lord ordered it, the vassals had no choice but to obey. And everyone knew that Demetrio had actually been poisoned, which was why not a single person objected to leaving Mealtars.
This was all to say Demetrio and his gang of nobles departed the city. The summit had failed to come to a resolution, and everyone fully expected Bardloche and Manfred would also return home with their factions…until they made a surprise move.
They had stationed soldiers in the nearby vicinity, and both besieged Mealtars.
“This was all Mealtars’s fault.”
“Their plan was to open up relations with the West and assassinate us, the Imperial princes.”
“They unjustly confined our ally—Prince Wein—and attempted to place the blame on him.”
“Immediately open the castle gate and allow my forces to conduct a thorough investigation!”
This was the story according to Bardloche and Manfred. Their objective was clear. Mealtars was a golden goose, but since it had retained a great deal of autonomy, it went unchecked. Their ultimate plan was to take advantage of this faux pas and bring Mealtars under their direct control.
For Mealtars, this was a bolt out of the blue.
They had been in communication with the West during the rebellion, and they had let an Imperial prince get poisoned on their own territory. On top of that, the criminal still hadn’t been caught. And they had confined the prince of an ally nation. With everything, Mealtars had found itself caught in a political dilemma.
“Those guys are using me to get their way…” Wein grumbled, back in his temporary manor.
The chair creaked as he leaned back irritably. “By the way, Ninym, who made the first move, Bardloche or Manfred?”
“Manfred mobilized his forces first.”
“In that case, Manfred might have been the one who ordered my assassination… No, I can’t make that call just yet.” Wein mentally compiled the information in his mind. “What about Lowa? Did she leave?”
“She’s still in the city.”
“Oh, that’s surprising. I thought she’d hightail it out of here.”
“You were confined, but the public still thinks that Natra is a part of Lowellmina’s faction. There have been rumors that this assassination attempt was part of her plan. It seems that the city was sieged as she was trying to put out those fires.”
Wein burst into laughter, and she went on.
“She is currently hard at work helping Mayor Cosimo de-escalate the situation. With Falanya.”
“Wait, she’s there?”
“Yes. She was enraged that you were brought to the headquarters of the guards, but she said she had to calm the city down until you were freed.”
Makes sense, Wein thought. There was a lot going on, but it was turning out to be a window of opportunity to foster Falanya’s independence.
“Also, Mayor Cosimo sends his apologies regarding your confinement, Wein. Unfortunately, it seems the guards had been unwilling to cooperate with him.”
The guards were as close to an army as it would get. They must have had a certain level of clout that prevented Cosimo from ordering them around, which let them imprison Wein of their own accord. After getting chewed out by the princes, they must have realized confining Wein was a bad idea and let him go.
“He says he’d like to meet you to apologize in person. I suspect he’ll ask for your assistance to get things under control again.”
“Forget the apologies. That’s the least of my problems.”
Ninym nodded as Wein waved his hand lazily. The situation was tense. They couldn’t afford to deal with Cosimo.
“Well, what should we do?”
“Go home!” Wein declared right on the spot. “The summit is a wash. The Imperial princes are outside the city. There’s no point in us staying here. In fact, we’ll be in major trouble if we don’t book it. Once Mealtars opens the castle gate, there’s no question that assassins will take advantage of the chaos and come for me.”
“Yes, well, that is true…”
The public was aware that Demetrio had been poisoned, but Wein had been the actual target of this assassination plot. It wasn’t like they’d give up after a single failed attempt.
“Well, our biggest problem is finding a way to escape,” Ninym said.
“Uh-huh…”
The city was surrounded by two armies, and the castle gate was shut tight. Even if they told the soldiers to move it, they weren’t going to be greeted in any friendly way.
“How is the siege looking?”
“Bardloche and Manfred have split into north and south to keep each other in check, so there are openings to the east and west of the city. But it’s a gamble if we’ll manage to get by.”
Which meant they would have to spot an unmanned gate and slip between the two armies that stared each other down.
“Still though, whether we’d get any farther than that is a bit of a gamble.”
So it was a matter of opening the gap and slipping by while both sides were glaring at each other. On top of that, Wein needed to keep an eye on the prince who sent the assassin. If they were caught, there was a one-in-two chance that he’d be quietly disposed of.
“Hmm, we’re at a real disadvantage here…” Wein flopped onto the desk. “Couldn’t we put the screws on Cosimo and get him to tell us about a secret passage? They’ve gotta have one or two.”
“It’s possible, but I doubt he’ll talk. Cosimo seems to love this city, and I bet he’ll risk his own life if it meant he could drag you into this mess.”
“C’mon! Give me a break!” Wein moaned. “We’ve gotta think of a way out of here. If any more trouble finds me here, I’ll have exhausted all my moves.”
“—Your Highness, I beg your pardon!”
The door opened forcefully, startling Wein and Ninym. It was a subordinate.
“…I don’t remember us kicking down doors back home.”
“I’m sorry. But we’re in a race against time…!”
“What? Have the princes’ armies started fighting?”
“No!” The subordinate took a breath. “We’ve received word that an army bearing the flag of Levetia is approaching on a road from the West!”
I’m sorry. WHAT?!
It felt like his heart had burst into a million pieces.
“I’m sure they’ve noticed us by now,” the man in the carriage murmured calmly.
It was an oddly large carriage. The horses pulling it along were broad and sturdy. Any questions about its size could be answered with a quick peek inside. The male passenger was so giant that even this coach felt cramped and narrow.
Gruyere Soljest was three times larger than the average person. He was one of the Holy Elites from the west side of the continent and the king of the Soljest Kingdom.
“I’m certain there must be a huge uproar. It is unfortunate that we cannot see it personally,” responded the woman sitting across from him.
Her name was Caldmellia, a remarkable figure who had risen to director of the Gospel Bureau, one of the highest positions in the religious order of Levetia.
“I’m surprised…that we’re out here leading an army to Mealtars instead of sending a delegation in this situation.”
“The circumstances call for it,” Caldmellia assured, smiling. “I’m sure all their opinions have gotten muddled, causing everyone to worry. They’re all focusing on the problem in front of them… There is no better moment for us to strike from the sidelines.”
Gruyere snorted. “Those poor believers. Getting dragged into your games, and now they’re going to die here.”
Looking out the window, he could see the soldiers walking along in a systematic fashion. Six thousand of them. All followers of Levetia.
“Games?” Caldmellia asked. “This is a holy war to free Mealtars from Imperial oppression.” She smiled at him. “They will return alive. After all, you are their leader, King Gruyere.”
While she had been the one who decided to rouse the army and set out for Mealtars, it was Gruyere who was in command.
“Trying to curry my favor? You’re the one who got permission from the Holy King to carry out this little prank—and then dragged me out here.”
“There was no other way. I could not possibly take control of the army.”
Caldmellia was a politician, not a military officer. She had neither the experience nor ability to lead six thousand soldiers.
“Our opponents are the Imperial princes… Anyone else besides you, King Gruyere, will simply not do.”
“Hmph… If only they were worth more than their titles. Then they’d be a prey worth hunting.” He glared at her. “You’d better not forget, Caldmellia: I only follow the orders of Levetia and the Holy King. I’m not some underling.”
Caldmellia was not fazed. “Obviously. I am depending on you, King Gruyere.”
She looked out the window.
“Hee-hee, I hope Prince Wein will be pleased to see me.”
As she imagined what awaited them, Caldmellia broke into a big smile.
“Don’t come over when I’ve got my hands full!” Wein screamed with every ounce of his strength. “Seriously? Right now? This is the worst timing! I was just trying to find a way out of here! I don’t have time in my schedule to mess around with you! Curse you, Caldmellia!”
“Calm down, Wein.”
“How can I?! I thought she’d send a delegation, but she dragged the whole damn army along with her…! I should have burned her manor to the ground before we escaped the capital of Cavarin…!”
“I understand, but we have to move now and think later,” Ninym urged, attempting to calm her enraged master. “It’s crucial we pick up the pace and figure out our course of action.”
“All we can do is get out of here as fast as possible.” Wein was looking agitated. “The siege on the city is causing the citizens enough stress. Now that Levetia is involved, it’s only a matter of time before the city revolts.”
“There are thirty thousand people in Mealtars. If there’s an uprising, the guards won’t stand a chance.”
“And then before we know it, the castle gates will be flung open, the army will storm in, and the whole city will descend into madness. If we don’t get out before that, we’ll be in serious trouble.”
They might have been able to do something if they were in Natra with their own forces on hand. But right now, Wein was just a representative of a delegation residing in a foreign nation.
“I’m way over my head with this one. It’ll be impossible to turn this around. We’re out of time and tricks. Ninym, call Falanya back. We’re going to need Nanaki.”
“Understood. I’ll contact them.”
“And I’m sure Lowa wants to get out of here, too. Please help her out…”
His body started to tremble uncontrollably.
“Wein?”
“Sorry… Guess I’m a little tired. Let me lie down for a minute.” He tried to get up, but his knees buckled.
Crap! This is bad… I’m going to fall. His body lurched.
“Ninym, prepare our escape—”
But before he could finish, Wein’s body crashed to the floor.
Five days had passed since Bardloche’s and Manfred’s armies surrounded Mealtars.
“They’re more tenacious than I expected,” Manfred murmured as he gazed at the city walls.
He was in the camp that his men had pieced together. His subordinates gathered around him, and the mood was heavy.
“This is still Imperial territory. The guards might be able to hold out against our troops, but I don’t think it’ll be possible for them to stand their ground as forces approach from the West.”
A subordinate seemed to be talking to himself. “It seems Princess Lowellmina, Mayor Cosimo, and Princess Falanya of Natra are still in the city. Their outreach to the people is preventing the citizens from going wild.”
“I wonder if that will be enough to stop them… Whatever. It’s only a matter of time.”
This situation had been a stroke of luck for Manfred. When Demetrio had been poisoned instead of Wein, even the youngest prince turned pale.
But after his brother left the city, Manfred knew what he had to do. Since the summit was going nowhere, he would switch policies. Rather than win over Mealtars, he’d take advantage of the misstep, claim that it was perfectly within his rights to deploy his army, and bend the city to his will using force.
I can’t stop Bardloche from aligning himself with me. But I’ll have to decide a way to get rid of him and make sure my army is the only one left to enter the city. I hope I’ll be able to oust Levetia after that.
For Manfred, this new army made things complicated. Their men were lined up on a hill to the west that wasn’t far from Mealtars, proclaiming they would break up the siege and liberate the city.
I bet they were waiting for an opportunity since the very beginning.
It was almost fortunate that the religious troop seemed to be in no hurry to resort to force. They were stationed at the top of the hill, keeping a close eye on new developments.
This was in part because Manfred and Bardloche each had seven thousand soldiers, while they only had six thousand. Although the western border was nearby, this was still in Imperial territory. If push came to shove, the princes could call for reinforcements.
They may not have a valid reason to act.
They were after liberation. They didn’t want to show any aggression without due cause. Manfred guessed they wanted the princes to subject the people of Mealtars.
How annoying… But I guess it comes with some advantages. Now that they’re here, I’ve got the perfect fodder to get Mealtars.
What would be the best course of action?
Manfred could sense someone outside.
“Pardon me!” A messenger appeared in the command post.
“Your Highness, I have just received a report from my men within the castle town.”
“Have they made a move?”
“Well…”
When he heard the full report, Manfred gaped in surprise.
“Prince Wein has collapsed…?”
At the same time, Bardloche received this report in a position south of Manfred’s army.
“Prince Wein is unconscious…and in critical condition?”
“Yes, word has been spreading through the city.”
Bardloche thought for a moment. “The guards of Mealtars supposedly arrested him. Could he have been tortured…?”
“He appears to have returned to his manor after his release. It is possible he could have been tortured during his confinement, though we don’t know the exact details. If he was the original target for the assassination, it’s possible he’s finally been poisoned.”
“…Let’s hope he makes a full recovery. I know he’ll serve me well in the future. It’d be a waste to let him die,” muttered Bardloche honestly.
The messenger continued. “There is one more matter. Our army is gaining a bad reputation within the city.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They say that our soldiers lack discipline and that civilians will be massacred if the city is taken over.”
“Are they idiots? If we could do that, we would have already.”
Mealtars was a golden goose. Even Bardloche knew that was thanks to the people residing in the city. If they slaughtered the citizens, they would essentially kill their cash cow. Bardloche and Manfred both knew a single drop of blood didn’t need to be spilled if Mealtars willingly pledged their allegiance.
“This must be one of Manfred’s schemes. Send out agents to put an end to the rumors about us. We need to start believable lies about Manfred’s army.”
“Understood!” The messenger dashed outside.
Bardloche muttered to himself as he put together the situation in his mind.
“We need to crush Manfred’s army in the north. We’ll smash the zealots in the west. And then we’ll seize Mealtars… No need to make things complicated. The plan is simple.”
As soon as Mealtars made a move, so would he. All he had to do was wait. Bardloche continued to focus on the city like a carnivore targeting its prey.
The news of Wein’s condition reached Glen under Bardloche’s banner and Strang in Manfred’s camp. But their reactions were different from the two princes’ responses.
“He isn’t one to just die,” Glen commented.
“I can tell there’s something else going on if this news is public.”
The two had the same thought at the same time. A strange occurrence.
““Wein, you must be up to something, huh—?””
Three days later, the situation began to change, as if following their predictions.
“…Boring,” Gruyere grumbled as he munched on a piece of fruit in the camp.
It had been a few days since they arrived at this location that overlooked Mealtars and gotten into formation. The situation hadn’t changed since they got there. The princes still had the city under siege, and the army of zealots continued to observe from the hill.
“Can’t we just attack already, Caldmellia?”
“It’s not time yet, King Gruyere,” she answered, holding a book in one hand. “We need a reason to fight. We must wait until the castle gate opens, until the two princes rush in, until the chaos unfolds.
“Besides,” Caldmellia continued, “didn’t you want to avoid taking on both princes at once?”
Their army of six thousand was outnumbered by a thousand by both princes. Manfred and Bardloche had gathered about fourteen thousand men. It was overkill to fight Mealtars, since it didn’t have a decent army. But it showed that they were serious about this.
Though the brothers were at each other’s throats, there was a decent possibility that they would team up against Levetia before taking the city. If that happened, the princes would have twice as much power. It was better to try and avoid it altogether.
Caldmellia never expected Gruyere to grumble about this.
“You’re worrying over nothing,” he claimed. “They’re two brats fighting each other. Even if they’re up against a common enemy, they won’t try to cooperate. They’ll be focused on tripping each other up. They’re no match for me, even with twice the manpower.”
“My,” sighed Caldmellia in genuine surprise.
Gruyere was more sincere than his looks made him out to be. He’d never exaggerate his own abilities. If he said he could do it, then it must be true.
“Now I’m starting to feel conflicted… But with all the recent developments, we ought to wait it out.”
Gruyere sighed dramatically. He seemed dissatisfied, though it wasn’t enough to oppose Caldmellia’s orders.
“If you’re bored, would you like to read this book?”
“What is it? …The Dignity of Imperial Court?”
“It is popular among the noble families in the West. Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t think so. But I can see them recommending this. I doubt it’s any good.”
Caldmellia chuckled at his brazenness. “To summarize, this book was written to degrade and undermine noble families. It’s rare for a title to be this ironic.”
“Oh? Are you going to burn it?”
“No. I think I will try and spread its message.”
Gruyere showed her a baffled frown, but it didn’t take him long to understand. “…The masses will seek God’s salvation if their current masters squander their power and abandon their scruples.”
“Perhaps.” Caldmellia beamed.
Gruyere clicked his tongue.
If the ideas in that book took off, the faith of Levetia would spread to more territories.
That said, Levetia tended to select kings and dukes as Holy Elites, which meant it was more rooted in the earthly realm than other religions. If this book managed to weaken the foothold of royal families and the nobility, the values of Levetia would spread through the continent, and the townspeople would rise to power within the organization. Meaning they would band together. Meaning they would flock to Caldmellia, an average citizen just like them.
“…You witch. My greatest regret was that I didn’t kill you when we first met.”
“Hee-hee. You should watch your step, King Gruyere. Or you might not notice a small fire spreading under you.”
They glared at each other. You could cut the tension with a knife.
But that was flipped on its head by a third party.
“Incoming—!” cried a voice outside.
A soldier appeared before the two.
“I—I have a report! We’ve confirmed that the castle gate to Mealtars is open!”
“Hmm? Did they finally wear out?” asked Gruyere.
“Then we must move quickly.”
Caldmellia and Gruyere immediately began to switch gears.
But the messenger sounded mournful. “P-please wait!”
“What? There’s more?”
“Yes…the castle gate is open, the people of Mealtars are leaving…and they’re heading this way…!”
Oh, Gruyere thought with a sigh.
It wasn’t rare to see civilians flee when a city was in a desperate situation. It wouldn’t be a problem if they came to their camp to request aid. After all, they had brought mountains of food and supplies to pacify the city after their army managed to chase off the princes.
“Warmly welcome them in when they arrive. It would make a more favorable impression if we send out some of our men to greet them. How many are coming this way?” Caldmellia asked.
The messenger paused for a beat.
“…All of them.”
Caldmellia and Gruyere exchanged looks when they couldn’t comprehend.
The messenger stared at both of them.
“Thirty thousand people… All the citizens of Mealtars!”
It was a sight unlike any other.
Walking in a straight line were men and women, young and old civilians. They weren’t heading to the north, south, or east. All of them were marching toward the west.
Whenever they took a collective step forward, the earth rumbled, even though they were just civilians.
“To think I’d ever see such a thing…” Mayor Cosimo murmured in awe, feeling the vibrations in the soles of his feet.
He had participated in this march with his family. Even though he was the mayor, he stayed toward the back…because he wasn’t their leader.
Someone else was in charge of this parade.
The figure leading the citizens of Mealtars reflected in his eyes. Cosimo could see her as she raised her voice in encouragement as they pressed forward.
“You never fail to surprise me…Princess Falanya.”
The crown princess of Natra, Falanya Elk Arbalest.
She was the leader of these thirty thousand civilians.
“What is that?! What’s going on?!”
Manfred’s camp had fallen into literal chaos.
The castle gate was wide open. There wasn’t anything particularly weird about that. He’d anticipated a portion of the citizens would flow out.
But who would have thought all of them would be coming out?
Why? …You know what? I don’t even care about that. I need to focus on how to respond! How do I go about this…?!
Manfred had a few options. There was no one to protect the mobilized citizens. There were a few members of the march who looked like guards to keep the line in formation. If his army overpowered them, he could somehow halt their procession.
This march meant the city had become an empty husk. If he used his forces to gain control, Mealtars would be his.
This city is a golden goose but only because of its merchants! Which should I take: the people or the city…?!
Manfred was in anguish. It would be the best of both worlds if he could seize both Mealtars and its citizens. But if he attempted to capture the people, the religious zealots of Levetia would start to mobilize their troops from the other side of the hill. But if he tried to take the city, Bardloche’s army would fight to secure it for themselves.
I could take advantage of this abnormal situation. Could I work with Bardloche to secure the people and drive out Levetia…?! Think! Dammit! Figure it out! They’ll get the jump on you if you’re careless!
Manfred’s mind raced. But an even bigger bomb was dropped on him.
“We have a report from our scouts in the city! A battle has broken out in the city between our men and Bardloche’s army!”
“What?!” Manfred boomed. “Who the hell are they following? I haven’t given the order to attack yet!”
“It’s already started, so I was unable to ascertain the details! But our forces are not faring well!”
What? Manfred felt like stamping his foot. All that held him back was his princely pride and uncanniness of this changing situation.
My camp has always been a rabble of emerging nobles. I don’t have complete command of them. It’s plausible that some of my men have run wild in pursuit of glory. But—
It was too soon. The entire population of Mealtars had only just left the city…but the army surrounding its walls had managed to make their way inside and fight Bardloche’s soldiers. Something about their actions seemed intentional. If anything, he had reason to think they had been inside the city the entire time—
“Your Highness! What shall we do?!”
“We’ll lose the city if we don’t send in more men!” Manfred managed to bark out when his subordinate called out to him.
There was no time for thought. Now that a battle had broken out, there was no chance that the two brothers could join hands. If they fought against Levetia while trying to secure the citizens, Bardloche would take the city and stab him in the back.
There was only one option left.
“…We’ll aid our forces! Storm the city!” Manfred shouted, tamping down the bad feeling that lingered in his chest.
On the other side, things were relatively calm in Bardloche’s camp. After all, he had an organized group of experienced soldiers. He’d been surprised to see the citizens abandon their home, but it didn’t take him long to regain his composure.
“Your Highness, we should prioritize the city!”
“I agree. We don’t know what the people are thinking, but if we can secure Mealtars, we will be able to accomplish the rest somehow!”
Bardloche listened to his subordinates’ opinions, but his expression was strained.
I can sense someone else is trying to pull the strings… Should we really try to take the city?
He was thinking back on the failed assassination of Demetrio, the appearance of Levetia, the sudden mobilization of the citizens. It had all been unexpected.
Of course, it could have been a series of unrelated coincidences. But if someone was acting behind the scenes, they’d be expecting the princes to prioritize capturing the city. It was possible this was all a trap. He had no evidence of this. It was his intuition. Their best course of action was to stay put and observe the situation from a bird’s-eye view. Bardloche knew this was true…until a report came to cancel out his assumptions.
“Your Highness! We’ve just received a report that our forces and Manfred’s men are fighting in the city!”
“What?”
The news caused everyone to stir.
Bardloche followed up with a question of his own. “Did our soldiers decide to act on their own?”
“We could not confirm that. However, the situation appears to be in our favor.”
“……”
Bardloche was overcome with an odd sensation.
Most of Manfred’s army consisted of the nouveau riche and their retinues. It would not be strange for them to act impetuously for a shot at personal glory.
Bardloche’s army, however, consisted mostly of active soldiers. They adhered to a strict code of discipline. And it was odd that no one knew who started the scuffle. It made no sense to keep their identities quiet if they were after recognition.
But the situation changed before he could clear those suspicions.
“Your Highness! Manfred is mobilizing his army! It seems they plan on capturing the city!”
“Tch…!” Bardloche clicked his tongue. At this rate, he couldn’t sit still any longer.
“We’ll advance and take the city before Manfred!”
“Princess Lowellmina, your predictions are coming true. Your brothers’ armies have started to mobilize,” Fyshe reported.
Lowellmina nodded in satisfaction. She was in Cosimo’s manor within the now empty city. The citizens had all left.
“Have the disguised soldiers withdrawn?”
“Yes. A while ago.”
The battle between Bardloche’s and Manfred’s men was a performance orchestrated by Lowellmina’s own army.
They outfitted themselves with appropriate uniforms and equipment and made sure to send back eyewitness accounts to their respective camps. Once she confirmed that her brothers’ troops had begun to move, she quickly withdrew. This had been the plan all along.
“Your Highness, please escape through the underground passage. The city is on the brink of pandemonium.”
“Yes. Let us have faith that they will be successful,” Lowellmina murmured to herself, looking west.
In the headquarters, Gruyere laughed heartily.
“How delightful! I’m almost troubled by my joy!”
Messengers from Mealtars had just arrived. Their declaration was simple: Their citizens had come to request their aid. They knew Levetia was there to save them all from Imperial oppression. Nothing more.
Thirty thousand people. There had to be people who were too sickly to walk. Instead of leaving them behind, the civilians had placed them in carriages as they approached the army.
Needless to say, this was reckless.
They needed to parse out so much information. Who came up with this plan? How did they carry it out?
But they had to figure out another matter first.
“What are we going to do, Caldmellia? We’re not equipped to care for thirty thousand people.”
Gruyere had a point.
They had prepared supplies to feed the citizens once the occupation of the city was complete. But providing room and board for everyone was absolutely impossible. Their surplus resources would be gone within three days. Running out of essential goods while fighting against the enemy was nothing short of a nightmare.
But it would be hard to turn them down. After all, Levetia had come to save the people of Mealtars. That was why the soldiers were there. If they refused the citizens and lost their cause, their morale would crumble to nothing.
If there was any solution—
“King Gruyere.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gruyere spoke before she could say another word. “You’re not thinking they’re pagans who want to destroy our army from the inside, right? You don’t think they’re pretending to ask for help. You would never imagine we should deploy our troops to destroy them first.”
“…Never.”
“Thank goodness. I would have run home in fear if that’s what you were implying.” Gruyere smirked. He knew she couldn’t lead the army without him, and it made him confident.
“What a quandary…” Caldmellia sighed, though she started to smile.
It wasn’t because she was certain they would win. It was just her disposition. Everything about this situation had brought her closer to climax, including this adversity and the surrounding dilemma.
“—If anything troubles you, I would be delighted to lend a helping hand.”
Her fun with him had only just begun.
“It’s been a while, Lady Caldmellia, King Gruyere.”
Wein Salema Arbalest flashed them a carefree smile.
To return to a few days prior…
“ ?!”
Wein shot out of bed as soon as he became conscious again. He scanned the room and caught sight of a person. It was Ninym, who had been waiting in the room.
“Ninym, what’s going—?”
“Wein!”
“Gweh,” Wein let out as Ninym pounced on him before he could understand the situation.
“I’m so relieved! You’re finally awake!”
“Now that my body has had a taste of what it needs, I’ve never been sleepier…”
Ninym had partially pushed him down, and Wein sat up as she clung to him tightly.
“I’m sorry. That was my fault. I knew you were exhausted, and I…”
“No, I thought I could still keep going. I didn’t listen to any of your warnings until I actually collapsed. I guess I went a little overboard this time arou—” Wein stopped mid-sentence.
Ninym started sobbing as she buried her face in his chest.
“Thank goodness… I don’t know what I’d do if you never woke up, Wein…” she whispered, voice trembling. Looking at her now, few would have imagined the way she practically radiated courage on a regular basis.
Even the healthiest people could fall victim to a fatal illness. The upper crust of society was not exempt from the laws of nature.
Ninym’s tears seemed to show just how much she’d worried about him while he had been out.
She seemed more fragile than the most delicate glasswork. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where to place his hands, but they eventually found their way to her hair, gently pressing her head against his.
“Hey, don’t cry. I never know what to do when you’re like this,” he murmured, running his fingers through her white strands.
“…Then don’t push yourself,” she whispered.
“That is, um, well, it’s kinda hard to guarantee that… Ow!” She had pinched his back. “O-okay. I’ll take better care of myself next time. I’m sorry.”
“…Apology not accepted.” Ninym rubbed her cheek against Wein’s chest. “Just…let me stay like this for a little longer.”
Wein said nothing and continued to stroke her hair.
Ninym had stopped crying, making way for a comfortable silence between them. But that was interrupted by…Wein’s growling stomach.
“…Wein, turn around for a second.”
He obliged and faced away from her. She pulled away from him, straightening herself.
Ninym finally gave him the okay. “First, you have to eat. I’ll have something prepared immediately.”
When he looked at her over his shoulder, Ninym was as collected as ever. He pretended not to notice the slight redness around her eyes.
“You don’t have to bring it all the way here. I can just go to the—”
“No. Rest. I’ll get angry if you leave this room.”
He appreciated her concern. And he wasn’t completely back to his usual self. But he needed to know something before he resigned himself to doing the bare minimum.
“Ninym, what happened after I passed out? Are things calming down?”
“Things could have been worse. I’ll explain in detail when I return.”
“Got it. I’ll wait here. Please hurry. I’m starving.”
Ninym broke into a small smile. “Leave it to me. I’ll be just a minute.”
She turned on her heel and left the room.
“Wein!”
After he had finished eating and Ninym had filled him in on the details, two more visitors filed into their room: his little sister, Falanya, and Princess Lowellmina.
“I’m so glad you’re all right!”
“Sorry about that, Falanya. I’m okay now.”
She rushed toward him, and Wein smiled as he held her close. He directed his grin behind her, too.
“You have my thanks, Princess Lowellmina. It seems you’ve been taking care of Falanya while I was unconscious.”
“Think nothing of it. I’m pleased that we could join forces in these troubled times.”
For a moment, Wein looked at Lowellmina in her eyes. That was enough for Wein to understand her intentions, and he silently instructed Ninym with his hand.
“Princess Falanya, let me prepare you a fresh set of clothes. There is a great deal to talk about, but that can come later.”
“Ah, you’re right. Wein, I’ll see you later.”
Falanya and Ninym left the room. Now that there was no reason to keep up appearances, Lowellmina spoke.
“How much did you hear from Ninym?”
“Basically everything that happened since I passed out… Is Falanya really…?”
“Yes. I was surprised. I never thought she would become a support system for the people of Mealtars.”
It all began in the citizens’ assembly. The people were floored by Bardloche’s and Manfred’s actions, when they demanded the city open their gates. This was naturally reflected during the assembly. They were locked in separate arguments: admonishing the guards, making Cosimo take responsibility, surrendering to the princes’ demands, insisting on absolute resistance, calling for Western aid.
Anyone could see that fear was their driving force. The assembly hall was packed, and they were starting to get emotional. When they failed to agree to a plan, they began to take low blows, exchanging jeers and taking violent measures. They were starting to think the renowned citizens’ assembly of Mealtars was going to fall apart.
It was then that Falanya decided to participate in their debates.
If the city riots, it’ll be particularly dangerous for Wein, who’s confined to his room at the moment…
Her brother had his hands tied. It was up to her to stop the city from breaking into mayhem. She knew her purpose.
Falanya stood behind the podium. The people in the hall stopped their shouting and mysteriously quieted.
“—This city is in dire straits.”
Her voice was as crisp as the spring breeze, a welcome respite.
“But we cannot let our hearts grow anxious. We must not fight with our neighbors. What we need is unity.”
Even when all several hundred eyes turned to Falanya, she did not flinch.
“You are all merchants from Mealtars, the greatest city on the continent for trade. You use your wit to make your own path. If all thirty thousand merchants band together, there is no situation that you can’t overcome.”
She took a breath. “You have the greatest minds. We need your talent to light the path forward!”
Falanya’s speech was not long at all. But as soon as she finished, her audience regained their composure. They kept their emotions in check, making sure their opinions remained constructive even when discussions grew heated.
After that day, Falanya began to address them daily. She grew more heated after Wein collapsed. Her voice became fuller. They were captured by her gestures. Her audience swelled in number to the point where they could barely fit in the assembly hall. When it reached capacity, she began delivering her talks in front of the building. And when even that became too cramped, they moved to a larger venue.
“At this point, Mayor Cosimo and I have decided to fully back her. The mayor’s approval rating has dropped, since the responsibility of this problem naturally falls on him. The citizens are suspicious of me because I colluded with him to organize the summit in the first place. And I am the sister of the princes now besieging their city.”
They had placed someone with an untarnished reputation at the forefront to bring the people together, drawing attention away from themselves. This plan had been quite successful. Falanya had been accepted by the people of Mealtars.
“I hate saying this, but I can’t believe she hasn’t been crushed by the weight of this situation…”
The pressure on Falanya had to be enormous. It hadn’t been too long ago when she’d been a bird in a cage. Wein was floored that she had been able to endure it.
“That is true. You know, she told me she felt like throwing up on multiple occasions.”
“Hey! That’s when you should have stopped her.”
“I tried. But she refused to listen.”
Wein felt like he’d just heard about someone who worked themselves to the bone, paying no attention to warnings.
It was him.
“Like brother, like sister…”
“Did you say something?”
“Nothing. I never thought Falanya would go that far…”
“Mayor Cosimo and I are very grateful. She is the reason there hasn’t been a revolt.”
“Tell her that in person.”
Lowellmina smiled without humor. “You’re right. I will… I have to tell you one thing: It seems there is an escape passage beneath the mayor’s house. Please use it to return home.”
Wein’s eyes narrowed. “Is this how you show your gratitude?”
“You may see it that way if you wish,” Lowellmina said with a nod. She sighed. “We’ve managed to maintain order in the city, but I’ve made no progress negotiating with my brothers stationed around the city. I imagine they will start to grow impatient soon. They’ll launch an attack any day now. I must help my savior escape before that happens.”
“……”
“The people support Princess Falanya, and she is inextricably enmeshed in the affairs of Mealtars. I think she will refuse even if you tell her to escape. Which is why, Wein, I ask for your cooperation.”
“…What are you planning, Lowa?”
“To hang on until the very last minute. That is my responsibility.”
There were hints of exhaustion on her smiling profile. She must have been busy trying to break the deadlock.
Wein was silent for a moment. “Lowa, what’s the worst possible scenario for you at this point?”
That had come out of the blue.
Lowa thought about it. “…For Mealtars to fall into the hands of the West. I don’t care who takes control of the city—as long as it’s not them.”
“Then this should work,” Wein said cryptically. “I know it’ll be a gamble, but will you go along with my plan?”
“…What do you have in mind?”
Wein grinned.
“You’re going to make Falanya an icon.”
After that day, there were more rumors in the city than ever.
Some said Bardloche was planning to make the city a frontline base against the West and that Manfred was going to lead the merchants with an iron fist.
Others said that Prince Wein had been poisoned by both princes to prevent him from making accusations against the city.
Every piece of gossip stirred the fears of the citizens, increasing their distrust of the princes’ armies.
“Mealtars has been at the center of Imperial conquest.”
Falanya projected her voice before an audience of over three thousand people.
“Even now, we suffer sleepless nights, afraid of the princes. They do not have sound minds. Any discussions won’t persuade them. Tragedy will befall the city!”
The people listened with bated breath. From a short distance away, Wein, Ninym, and Lowellmina looked on in secret.
“…I wonder if this will work,” Ninym murmured as she stared at Falanya.
The princess was flanked with guards, but they were outnumbered by the citizens. Ninym couldn’t help thinking about the worst that would happen.
“We don’t have the natural disposition to coexist with fear,” Wein said.
Ninym tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“We respond with aggression, defensiveness, evasion, analysis…when we face fear. It helps us feel better. Even in heated discussion at the assembly. They can’t not take action against their fears. Their hearts can’t take it.”
Wein had concocted the rumors in the city to rouse their panic. However, they were under siege, which meant they had nowhere to run. They didn’t have the power to fight back or defend themselves. All could see their future was despair.
“Which is when Princess Falanya reaches out to them. How wicked…” Lowellmina commented.
“Supply and demand. The basics of business.”
Falanya was providing the citizens exactly what the people desired, making the temptation hard to resist. They didn’t even think anything about her presence anymore. She had become part of them.
“I can see the citizens of Mealtars worship Princess Falanya. But will it work?”
“It will,” Wein answered. “She doesn’t need to persuade all of them. In a city of this size, three thousand citizens will be enough to drag in the rest. Falanya can definitely persuade that many people. Look.” Wein urged them to look at Falanya.
While the three had been talking, she had reached the climax of her speech.
Why had things turned out this way? Falanya thought to herself whenever she looked back at recent events.
She had initially come to Mealtars in Wein’s place to greet the Imperial princes. Then things spiraled out of control. One of the princes proposed to her. Her brother had come to the city, even though he was supposed to be back home. The prince was nearly assassinated. Wein was arrested. The other two princes were now laying siege on Mealtars.
She wanted to ease their worries somehow…and before she knew it, she was speaking before an audience of three thousand.
—How did this happen? Falanya tried to think, standing at the podium as she continued her speech.
And on top of that…she had to do something in front of an audience of this size.
After all, Wein had given her the orders.
“Think of Mealtars as a leather bag brimming with water. If external pressure continues to mount, it is only a matter of time before it bursts. But what do you think will happen if we poke a hole in that bag?” Wein had asked her before her speech.
“The water will trickle out, preventing it from exploding.”
“Exactly. And on top of that, we can decide where and how to open the hole. In other words, we can control the direction of the pour. We need to take advantage of this.”
Falanya gaped at him when she processed this information.
“D-do you really think I can pull that off?”
Wein grinned. “Obviously—I believe in you, Falanya. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
That was enough for Falanya to resolve to stand before the people.
Wein said she could do this. He had told her to believe in herself. In that case, she had no doubts.
I can do it… Y-yeah, you got this, Falanya…!
She could see their inner thoughts, noted their hearts moving. She knew how to speak to them.
“The princes cannot discuss this among themselves anymore! But we don’t have the power to fight them until the bitter end!”
That was common knowledge. They wanted to know what to do next.
“Will this spell the end for Mealtars?! No! There is one road to survival!”
She was going to tell them—proclaim a way to break the deadlock, an answer to the people’s prayers.
Falanya took a breath and made her declaration.
“We need to abandon this city! I propose that every citizen leave its territory and join me in requesting the protection of the religious army of Levetia!”
The audience started to stir immediately. That much was expected. Very few people would voluntarily up and abandon their homes simply because someone asked, no matter where they lived. Falanya had thought it was ludicrous when she first heard the plan herself.
But this was the proverbial puncture in the bag. This was what Wein wanted. Falanya’s only job was to make that hole as wide as possible.
“Is Mealtars just something on the main road in the center of the continent? No! Is it just a city? No!” Falanya shouted, crushing their worries.
“Mealtars is made up of the people! Its territory and this city are just decorations that uplift its citizens! Wherever you go will be Mealtars! Whether it be a deserted island or the farthest ends of the ocean!”
Falanya’s vocal cords felt like they were fraying. There was palpable charge in the air. It was no illusion. The citizens before her had become heated.
“The princes don’t know the true value of the city. If they want its land and buildings, we will let them have it! We will laugh as they gloat over conquering this empty husk! Meanwhile, we will seek a new land with new trading partners and flourish!”
It wouldn’t be long before she had to say it. Her arms and legs cramped up from nerves, but Falanya began to talk louder as she gestured with even greater force.
“If the people of Mealtars band together, we can overcome all adversity and rebuild this city! We are not escaping but taking a step toward victory! Cast off our old baggage! An era of new prosperity is upon us!”
She took a breath.
“We will march forward—together!”
A bead of sweat trailing down her cheek fell to the ground. The citizens in front of her were silent. The mood was completely different, and sensing that change made her blood run cold. A chill ran down her spine when she thought she failed.
At that moment, someone in the audience called out, “Together!”
Another voice joined them. Two turned to five, and five turned to ten.
“Together!”
“Together!”
“For victory!”
“For new prosperity!”
“For progress!”
“For progress!”
There wasn’t even space for a moment of silence. Their cries grew more urgent. In the end, cheers erupted in the hall, blasting across the city like an earthquake.
Falanya felt faint from nerves, exhaustion, and the fresh feeling of victory. She finally considered her speech a success.
“This is…”
“Tremendous, I dare say…”
The audience roared with energy.
Even Ninym and Lowellmina felt a surge of inspiration, though they had only planned on observing her speech.
“Wein, by the way this is going…”
“Falanya was perfect.” Wein grinned. “Our part comes next. By maintaining this momentum, we’ll rile up thirty thousand citizens and get everyone out of the city.”
“…I pity Levetia, since they’ll be facing all these people,” Lowellmina said.
“Hey now. They came to help Mealtars. Why not take them up on their offer and depend on their aid as much as possible?”
With Falanya as their emblem, the citizens joined in and began their mass migration.
Back to the present.
As the representative of the thirty thousand citizens, Wein stood together with Cosimo as they confronted Caldmellia and Gruyere.
“What a strange coincidence. I’m surprised to see you two here.” Wein tried to hold back his smile.
Caldmellia returned one in kind. “Yes. When I heard that the greatest minds of the Empire would be gathered here, I thought you might be attending, Crown Prince. However, I never imagined we would meet like this.”
“…Why are you representing Mealtars?” Gruyere asked. “You’re the crown prince of Natra. They’ve got nothing to do with you.”
“All due to a series of complex circumstances. Of course, Mayor Cosimo is well aware that I’ve taken up this position, and there is no need for concern.”
As their eyes fell on him, Cosimo nodded. Gruyere posed no further questions, seemingly satisfied.
“That aside, I wish to extend my thanks on behalf of the people of Mealtars,” Wein said as he slightly bowed his head. “With your aid, all the citizens have managed to escape the city. Your offer to take in thirty thousand people has showed me the generosity of Levetia.”
“Of course. We always wish to aid the oppressed. I’m pleased that we have been able to save the people from the tyrannical rule of the Empire.”
Caldmellia’s response was flawless.
“Well then,” Wein said. “I would like to confirm one thing about your plans, now that you’ve taken us in—”
Cosimo’s heart felt like it might burst from the tension at any moment.
Calm down… You can handle this…
When he heard the news about the failed assassination attempt on Demetrio, his knees had nearly given out from under him. His mayoral duty and love for his hometown were the only two things that had kept him standing. He was obviously going to be the target of blame. He needed to focus on maintaining his political position in Mealtars.
But it didn’t take long for the situation to spiral out of control. The prince of an ally nation had been taken into custody because of his failure to persuade the guards. The assassin had not been captured. He had to deal with the two Imperial princes who were threatening him to surrender the city—or else.
He should have been the one leading the princes by the nose and appraising their abilities, but the tables had turned. He was now on the defensive.
He’d been able to keep the city from running wild with cooperation from Princess Lowellmina and Princess Falanya. But the crucial negotiations with the princes hadn’t been going well. In the end, they’d exhausted all their options…or so he’d thought.
“We’ll rouse the citizens of Mealtars and crush the plans of all three armies laying siege to the city.”
When Wein had come to him with this suggestion, Cosimo’s jaw had dropped. His proposal was to do something at an unbelievable scale.
Cosimo managed to fearfully ask him why.
“Why are you cooperating with us…?”
Wein was part of the delegation from Natra. Not only were they not from Mealtars, they weren’t even from the Empire. No one would blame them for escaping through the underground passages. But here they were, attempting to cross a dangerous bridge for Mealtars, which made Cosimo suspicious as to whether it was really out of a sense of justice or benevolence.
Wein’s answer was simple.
“Falanya is crazy about this town. As her big brother, it’s my job to make sure my little sister comes home in a good mood.”
It hadn’t seemed like a lie or a ruse. It was like he was taking a gamble and getting involved to spare his sister’s feelings.
Cosimo thought it was absurd. But at the same time, he felt a euphoria that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Reminds me of my younger days when I would weigh my life and gold on a scale…
Cosimo was a seasoned merchant. He’d seen his fair share of dangerous situations. That experience said it all: Now was the time to put his life on the line once again.
I’ve placed my bet on Prince Wein! Now I must wait and see how this plays out…!
Reluctant to miss even a second, Cosimo focused intently on the meeting.
“Our plans?” Caldmellia repeated, looking troubled. “To drive back the princes who are fighting for the control of the city and liberate it. Isn’t that right, King Gruyere?”
“Mmm…” Gruyere grunted when he was roped into the conversation.
After all, he had claimed they could beat the two princes with a small army, especially with the bloodbath happening in the city as their two armies clashed. If they stepped in at the right time, they might easily win.
…If they had enough supplies.
On the other hand, if they took thirty thousand refuges into their care, their resources would only last a few days. Reinforcements would resupply them, but they would run out long before that could happen.
Without adequate supplies, there was no saying how the situation would pan out. If they were stuck in the city for a war of attrition, Levetia would starve to death first.
“…Yeah, that’s the plan.”
But if Gruyere was honest to a fault, Wein would know all his weaknesses. Gruyere’s answer was taciturn.
“Is that so?” Wein saw right through his expression. “I have been talking over the details with the citizens. You have already helped us escape the city. We will not impose on you any longer. That would be ungracious.”
“…No need to hold back. But what would you do if you left our protection? Hypothetically.”
“We would take the city back ourselves.”
Caldmellia’s and Gruyere’s eyes widened.
Wein continued. “Therefore, I want you to sell me your extra weapons, food, and supplies at three times the price.”
What will you do, Caldmellia?
Wein’s plan was to empty the city, which would cause the princes to fight over it and weaken their troops. Then he would purchase weapons from Levetia and wear their army down. All the while, the refugees would be transformed into a militia, and they would hurry back to the city and try to negotiate with the exhausted armies of both princes.
Anyone who heard this plan would undoubtedly claim it was ludicrous. But the first steps had already gone well.
The princes are chipping away their stamina. After taking in the people of Mealtars, Levetia won’t have much time left. I bet they want to go home as soon as possible.
Of course, the army of Levetia had a reputation to uphold. If they declared they would liberate the oppressed city only to sell their weapons and return home, they would be scorned.
“I am aware that you will not be swayed by money, since you act in accordance with the divine will of God. But I ask that you remember Mealtars is a merchant city. A coin is a symbol of good faith. I would prefer to pay you somehow.”
He would buy their honor with gold.
“As soon as we get the city back, we will erect a stone monument to symbolize your goodwill and build a large temple. Mealtars is a strategic point that connects the East and West. I think these new additions would attract more followers.”
In other words, Wein was implying he’d offer them money and reputation, in exchange for leaving their weapons and food then going home.
“I see,” Caldmellia murmured to herself.
If he’s imposing the refugees on us while proposing this plan, that must mean he has no other options.
If Caldmellia was a pious believer from the bottom of her heart, she wouldn’t take the deal. She would see this holy war through to the very end.
But she was a politician. She understood that taking in the refugees would destroy her initial plan. Even if they stayed behind, they’d only incur further injury.
How wonderful! Forcing us to consider taking in the entire population of the city? You’ve exceeded my wildest expectations, Prince Wein, she commended.
—That is why I have no choice but to refuse you.
And then she chuckled.
Across from her, Wein twitched with narrowed eyes. That sent a chill down Caldmellia’s spine.
How fun! I want to play with him more—to deny him, to frustrate him, to feel upset, to hurt everyone, to widen the wound and make a big mess! I want to see how he’ll respond!
Heaps of people would die. The earth would be drenched in blood. She might even die herself. But that was okay.
After all, it was more fun that way—
“I accept.”
“ What?” Caldmellia slowly turned her head toward the voice next to her. “…King Gruyere, what did you just say?”
“I said I would accept, Director Caldmellia of the Gospel Bureau.”
They stared each other down. There was a frightening specter of death residing in Caldmellia’s eyes.
“I believe I’m the one responsible for this matter.”
“And I’m in charge of the army. And I say we accept his proposal.”
He knew it would be better to call it quits. They were already at a disadvantage, and they were in Imperial territory. It was possible that Prince Demetrio’s army would hear about the situation and come back.
If we stick it out, we might be able to fold the residents of the city into our army. But Prince Wein might use his people to trip us up and prolong the war.
Which had been Caldmellia’s hope.
But Gruyere had no intention of going along with her eccentricities.
“Oh dear…”
Caldmellia knew Gruyere was stubborn. After thinking it over, she seemed to speak with resignation. “…We will sell you only the surplus. Until we can confirm the citizens have reclaimed the city, our formation will remain intact.”
“Fine by me.”
“I agree.”
Wein smiled and held out his hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Director Caldmellia, King Gruyere.”
Within the walls of Mealtars, fights had broken out between the two armies of both princes.
Both had divided their forces between taking control of the city and striking the enemy from the outside. The battle was spreading on both fronts.
Obviously, Prince Bardloche held the upper hand outside the city. While Prince Manfred fought hard, his forces’ true talents lay elsewhere.
On the other hand, Manfred had the advantage within the castle walls. That was because he had secretly gathered intelligence on the city’s layout beforehand and shared it with his subordinates. His troops made use of the defensive equipment on hand and successfully repelled many of Bardloche’s soldiers.
In this push and shove, Glen raised his voice at the fringes of the battlefield outside the city.
“All units, follow me! We’ll smash through their defenses!”
““Yes, sir!””
Led by Glen on horseback, the soldiers rushed forward and pierced through enemy lines like an arrow.
“The man at the front is their leader! Stop him!” the enemy shouted, but Glen mowed them down with his large sword.
“You think you can slow us down?!”
Glen pushed in deeper and moved past two lines of soldiers—then three.
“Captain! We’re going to break through and reach the back!”
“Okay! We’ll take our formation and—”
Glen suddenly stopped his horse.
“Captain?!” The subordinate turned around to check if something had happened.
Glen glared ahead of them for a few seconds. “…We’re changing the direction of our advance! We’ll come at them from their flanks!”
“What? …A-all units, follow the captain!”
Glen’s forces suddenly turned their heels and headed in another direction.
From behind the forces that had been Glen’s initial target, Strang looked on at the situation.
“…I guess he noticed. I was so close.”
Strang had strategically deployed a weaker formation for Glen to rip through. His plan had been to draw the main force in and catch them in a trap at the back of the formation.
“That’s fine. Now Glen has veered to the side. Tell the main unit to advance twenty steps and place more pressure on the battlefield.”
“Understood!”
Strang considered his strategy as he barked out his orders.
It’s not looking good…
He had already known they were at a disadvantage fighting Bardloche’s army head-on. They seemed to be holding out within the walls, but that wouldn’t last much longer.
Should I suggest retreating while damage is minimal…? I’m not sure how Levetia will react if they know they have a chance to come out on top…
Strang glanced to the west.
“—Hmm?” He saw a few thousand people coming down from the hill.
“Levetia is moving… No! Wait! Is that…?!”
He was wrong. Levetia was still in formation on top of the hill. And the people descending the hill were touting…the flag of Mealtars.
“…Huh! You’re really something, Wein!” Strang shouted.
“Send a message to Prince Manfred! Prepare for a cease-fire! The golden goose has returned to talk!”
“Will you actually be able to arm and mobilize the citizens of Mealtars? We want to drive the princes’ armies back.”
“Yeah, no,” Wein answered Lowellmina frankly before they put their plan into action. “We’ve got fifteen thousand men out of thirty thousand people. Subtract the children, the elderly, the lazy, and anyone else who doesn’t want to cooperate. We’ll be lucky if we have even five thousand. And they’re almost all merchants with zero combat experience. We’ll be able to buy enough weapons from Levetia to arm three thousand soldiers. But even then we won’t pose a serious challenge to the enemy.
“Then…”
“But it’ll still be a battle,” Wein said. “The princes see the people of Mealtars as their cash cows. When they realize lost lives mean lost profit, they won’t want to fight us. Plus, the princes are in the middle of a heated battle. They can’t just order their soldiers to capture the murderous men of Mealtars.”
“……”
“And the unwounded soldiers of Levetia are backing the citizens. This will really put a thorn in the princes’ sides. They’ll lose no matter what they do.” Wein grinned.
“Meaning they’ll have no choice but to deal with our sinister wiles—”
The sun set, making space for a brief moment of silence in Mealtars.
A cease-fire had been signed. Both of the princes set up camp in a location more distant to the city. Under the condition that they kept the castle gate open, the citizens were allowed to return to their homes.
“…That was something, Prince Wein.”
They were in a room in Cosimo’s manor. Present were five men and women: Lowellmina, Bardloche, Manfred, Cosimo, and Wein.
“Never thought you’d go so far for a meeting,” Bardloche said odiously.
Manfred didn’t miss a beat. “You came right when our stamina was flagging from fighting against each other. It sounds simple enough, but I’m surprised.”
He tried to flash his pompous smile, but it had no energy to it.
“How do you plan to make us lay down our arms?” Manfred asked.
Wein shook his head. “There seems to be a misunderstanding between us.”
“What?”
Wein continued on. “Why did you have to fight against Mealtars in the first place?”
“Why? That’s because of…”
“The failed assassination attempt on Prince Demetrio. Was that orchestrated by Mealtars?”
Both princes gaped at him.
It had been widely accepted that was an excuse to attack the city. But Wein was unconvinced and trying to hint at the truth.
“First, I have not been unjustly imprisoned. As you can see, I am free.”
“…Yes.”
They wouldn’t be in this current situation if he’d truly been imprisoned. Bardloche gnashed his teeth.
“Next, there is no reason to believe they are conspiring with the West. It’s true that they have in the past, but that governor-general has already been judged for these deeds.”
“That’s strange,” Manfred pointed out. “In that case, why is Levetia still in formation on the western hill? The people of Mealtars came streaming down from their direction. Isn’t that proof that they’re working together?”
Wein smiled. “No, that was all me.”
What? Both princes seemed confused.
“It appears the rumors of my confinement reached the West. I am a candidate to become one of the Holy Elite, after all. They were concerned for my welfare. It made sense that they would use this opportunity to try and save the people of Mealtars as well.”
Those were some serious mental gymnastics.
But this was the plan that had been cosigned by Wein and Caldmellia’s group. After all, it would give them more credibility to say they had come to save the merchants and rescue a candidate for an important position.
“…What about the failed assassination? They haven’t caught the criminal,” Bardloche said.
“Don’t tell me you think Bardloche or I did it,” Manfred warned brazenly.
His brother scowled, daring Wein to talk his way out of this one.
Wein flashed the two of them a smile. “About that. Something stood out to me the whole time: How did the criminal do it?”
“…What do you mean?”
“I talked it over with Mayor Cosimo. The city guards are impeccable. Plus you have private security at your manors. It’d be unrealistic to expect an assassin to slip through them.
“Except,” Wein went on. “There’s only one person who could stand a chance. And that isn’t me, Mayor Cosimo, Prince Bardloche, Prince Manfred, or Princess Lowellmina.”
Manfred gasped. “…It can’t be.”
Wein nodded. “Yes—It was set up by Prince Demetrio himself. That is the truth.”
Bardloche stood up and shouted. “Don’t play dumb! Why would he do that?!”
“To bring us to this very point. The reputation of Mealtars has plummeted. Your armies are tired and sustained losses. If Prince Demetrio returned with his army right now, he could drive you out of here without much hassle. Which would leave him with Mealtars and the throne.”
Wein didn’t think this was the truth. He was fairly certain that he must have been the target of this assassination attempt even though Demetrio had managed to get himself poisoned.
“I was shocked when Prince Wein explained the situation to me,” Lowellmina admitted. “But I believe it to be true. Demetrio must have had no intention to participate in the summit from the very beginning. That’s why he was so unresponsive during our discussions and continued to assert his right to the throne… Wouldn’t you both agree?”
The princes finally saw the full picture.
It can’t be. They’re putting all the blame… one thought.
…On Demetrio…?! the other finished.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Exactly! Wein smirked inside. Neither of you wanted the summit to go well. That’s what you’ve been banking on since the beginning. You need someone to blame for its failure.
The Summit of the Imperial Children was a gathering of leaders. If absolutely nothing came of it, the attendees of the ceremony and the citizens of the Empire would be exasperated. There needed to be an acceptable reason why it didn’t turn out well.
And Wein was going to make Demetrio take the fall for everything: the pointless summit, the wasted assassination attempt, the fight between the two princes, bad weather.
He was basically asking to conspire together to make it a reality.
At any rate, Demetrio wasn’t in the room. While he had the right to be present, he was the only one who had returned home. And he couldn’t refute anything if he wasn’t there.
“…Mealtars has prepared adequate compensation for you for this unnecessary fight. We will refrain from pursuing any further relationship with Prince Demetrio,” Cosimo said quietly.
It was a declaration that they would pay back the money used for the battle and not side with Prince Demetrio.
…If I reject this plan, Bardloche thought, Manfred will do the opposite and go along with them. On the other hand, there’s no way Demetrio would try joining up with me. He’s a lone wolf.
Manfred was next to him thinking the same thing.
Even if I turn this down, pair up with Bardloche, and capture Mealtars, it’ll just break out in another struggle. Then Demetrio would actually be the one who wins in this situation. But I’ve just fought against Bardloche. It would be hard to establish friendly relations now.
The two continued to think long and hard…until they reached a conclusion. Oddly enough, it was the same one.
“…Fair enough.”
“I have no objections.”
Wein grinned in satisfaction.
“I thought you two might say that.”
A few days later, Bardloche, Manfred, and Lowellmina made a joint statement announcing the failure of the summit. They all criticized Demetrio as the cause. Although he obviously denied this, this caused his power to significantly wane.
After a long series of events, the Summit of the Imperial Children finally reached a temporary conclusion.