Genius Prince’s National Revitalization from State Deficit ~ Right, Let Us Sell the Country

It all started when a letter from Delunio arrived in Marden after Wein’s departure.

The message was simple: Their new territory contained a piece of land that Delunio had loaned to the royal family of Marden indefinitely. However, when the kingdom fell, this agreement became null and void, meaning the plot had to be returned immediately.

“That’s ridiculous,” Zenovia said upon receiving this letter, rejecting it without a second thought.

They did possess loaned land, but this agreement had been made decades prior. At the time, Marden had wanted to purchase the territory, but Delunio had forced them into calling it an indefinite loan instead. There was no reason why they would give it back, especially now.

Zenovia sent them a polite version of Don’t ever show your face here again, which Delunio must have expected because their response was lightning fast.

“Lady Zenovia, we have reports of an army near the border we share with Delunio.”

They investigated soon after hearing the news and confirmed them to be Delunio soldiers as expected. The army was there under the pretext of training, but it was obvious they were pressuring Marden with militaristic force in response to their previous reply.

“Borgen, lead the troops and head to the location. Refrain from engaging in unnecessary battle.”

“Understood.”

She wasn’t overreacting by deploying her troops. If she tried to negotiate, it would have demonstrated she would yield to military force, which would make her the subject of future scorn.

Besides, I doubt they want conflict.

It was just their way of saying they wanted to talk things over again, Zenovia thought. Their relationship with Soljest was rocky, and it wouldn’t be strategic to go to war against Natra.

At this moment in time, she didn’t know she was in the palm of Delunio’s hand.

Soon after, she received reports of Delunio crossing the border, giving rise to battles to stop the enemy from advancing.

As if hounding them for an answer, Soljest made a sudden declaration of war.

“This is—”

Zenovia finally realized she’d fallen for their trap…

Soljest had declared war.

In Natra, the top brass buzzed around like angered bees in a prodded hive.

Although they’d won against Marden and Cavarin, Soljest was on another level, and they knew it. With a surprise attack coming from them, they were obviously going to be agitated.

Even so, they weren’t going to spiral out of control or fall into despair…because of someone right before their eyes.

Their young crown prince. Their emotional support. A future hero destined to be a part of history.

“Have we gathered the home forces?”

“About eighty percent have arrived in the capital. We should have everyone in two days.”

“And where are the men of Soljest?”

“There have been recent reports that they have crossed the border. Based on the speed of their advance, we believe their forces are approaching the Trost grasslands soon.”

“Pick up the pace, and organize the troops! Don’t forget the food rations!”

“Sir!”

“As for a concrete battle plan—”

Wein called out orders to his vassals, who were in awe of his composure and certainty.

“I should have expected he would remain steadfast even in these most trying of times.”

“I was wrong to lose myself when I heard the declaration of war. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Get over it. It’s only a matter of time before we find glory on the battlefield.”

The war council paused for a break as the vassals chatted among themselves.

As if waiting for this opportunity, Ninym whispered in Wein’s ear.

“Your Highness, I believe now would be a good time for you to rest.”

Wein nodded, standing up. “I will be in my office. Call if anything happens.”

“Understood.”

After the officers saw them off, Wein returned to his office with Ninym. As soon as she closed the door, he sucked in a deep breath…

“—CURSE THAT DAMN PIG!”

His wails rang through the office.

“Screw him! Accepting my offer? How dare he! He must have realized we’d try to kill him if he rejected me, which is why he ran his mouth! A verbal agreement? That means nothing! Damn it! He got me!”

Wein could never show this side of himself to his vassals. Ninym looked troubled.

“Who could have guessed that Soljest and Delunio would form an alliance…?”

“You’re telling me…! Damn it! It wasn’t just Gruyere. Sirgis got me, too…!”

Sirgis and Gruyere must have been conspiring while Wein was in Marden. Or they had already come up with this plan by that point.

Wein imagined Gruyere chuckling to himself as he celebrated his little victory. He felt like kicking something.

“Gruyere invited you to the ceremony with the intention of forming an alliance. Sirgis interfered before you arrived and persuaded the king to join him instead. By the time you got there, they’d already mapped out the plan… That’s your proposed timeline, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s too far off, though I’m not even sure if he intended to band with us in the first place.”

“You think he was planning to fight us from the beginning?”

“Just based on his behavior. Even when he first invited me, I didn’t think it was to form friendly relations. I thought it was to evaluate his enemy or something.”

“If that’s the case, the two nations must have formed a secret alliance before he invited you… I suppose the details don’t really matter.”

Soljest and Delunio had joined forces to make an enemy of his nation. In other words, Natra had failed to resolve this with diplomacy. They had to suck it up and come up with a game plan.

“We’ve got no choice but to gather our forces and fight Soljest. It’ll be hard to face them head-on. That’s why we need to make one more move.”

“And the missing piece of that puzzle…” Ninym started to say when someone knocked on the door. An officer.

“Your Highness, please excuse the interruption. The marquess of Marden has just arrived.”

“Understood. Show her in.”

“Yes!” The official disappeared through the door.

“The ace up our sleeve is here.”

“…I wonder if Zenovia will be all right.”

“I think I know how she’s feeling…but see for yourself.” Wein grinned. “We’ve got no time for tears. Even if her heart’s broken, I’ll get her moving. Just wait.”

As the official guided her to the office, Zenovia felt as if she were a criminal heading to her execution.

This was because the upcoming war with Soljest had been a chain reaction of the fight between Delunio and Marden.

But I never thought it would come to this…

For Zenovia, it was a horrific nightmare. She’d jumped into a carriage upon receiving Wein’s summons, and her face had been pale for the entire journey.

The color still hadn’t returned to her face, even after she arrived at the palace. In fact, as the flurry of officials and nobility took notice of her and whispered among themselves, her complexion turned even more ghastly. She wished she could run away or turn to stone.

Even so, that would obviously be unforgivable. After all, she was the lord of the territory.

There are still things I can do…! Trembling as she rebuked herself, Zenovia realized she was in front of the door.

“Your Highness, I have brought Marquess Zenovia.”

“Come in.”

Wein’s voice sounded grimmer than usual, but maybe she was imagining things. Zenovia stepped into the office.

“Thank you for coming… I can see you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“…I’m so sorry, Prince Wein!” Zenovia immediately fell to her knees. “My stupid response to Delunio is to blame! I offer no excuses!”

Wein nodded when he heard her heartfelt apology. He probably could have scolded her, but he didn’t waste any time, continuing detachedly.

“Lady Zenovia, have you been filled in on the situation?”

“Y-yes. Soljest is leading fifteen thousand soldiers from the West…”

“That’s right. Natra was able to gather eight thousand men. Though we’re facing some delays, we’re hoping to add another three thousand, which would leave us at eleven thousand. We just don’t have enough people.”

Their foe was Gruyere, the famed battle leader.

Though Natra had General Hagal, he wouldn’t make up for the difference. Even if they could engage in a fair fight, they were about to face major damages. Natra would become prey for another nation as their army recovered. Frankly speaking, the situation put them in jeopardy.

“…I already came to my decision on the way here. I am prepared to accept any manner of punishment,” Zenovia said with a grave expression.

It looked like shame, frustration, worthlessness were devouring her whole. However, she managed to keep her feelings at bay.

“I wish for the opportunity to redeem myself.”

—Huh, Wein thought to himself.

Zenovia had thrown him for a loop.

I figured she’d be a total mess.

Wein had never intended on holding her responsible. Marden would only grow more agitated if he punished her and broke down their leader. And honestly, they didn’t have enough human capital to afford that.

Furthermore, he didn’t think she was wrong in responding to Delunio in this way. It was unreasonable to expect her to predict Soljest would wage war.

Even if she wasn’t wrong, a mistake was a mistake. It was bad enough that Marden had earned jealousy as the newest territory. Inviting war put Zenovia in a precarious position.

On top of that, he doubted she could handle the pressure. He’d never expected her to say she wished to make up for it.

“And how do you plan on redeeming yourself?”

“By restoring harmony with Delunio,” she offered. “Soljest declared war because we threatened their ally. If Delunio and Natra can reconcile, Soljest will have no justification to attack…!”

Zenovia knew she was going to die as soon as they waged war.

Her throat would be slit. There was no way around it. Right now, she was thinking of ways that the enemy would be satisfied with just her head—all to prevent her household from being stripped of its title. The situation called for it.

She had asked her vassals to refine this plan before she made her way to the palace—but their response was different from hers. They sought a solution that would ensure her survival.

She didn’t ask why. As she gazed at their stern profiles, she knew she couldn’t be so insensitive. She was ashamed she’d accepted death as inevitable and joined in their discussion.

There was the tiniest chance of achieving reconciliation with Delunio. If successful, it would give them the greatest chance of saving Zenovia and her household.

“We might be able to stop Soljest. But will Delunio actually be willing to talk?”

“That will be no issue. Jiva is leading the other vassals to Delunio. We’ve already arranged a meeting with Sirgis.”

When Marden had still been a kingdom, they facilitated discussions between Soljest and Delunio. They had used the favor owed to its advantage.

“Of course, I expect it will be difficult to resolve our differences. I have a plan to carry us through it. I ask you to give me a chance…!” Zenovia appealed to him as if it were a prayer.

It was true she had devised her own plan. However, without his permission to execute it, she would die.

Life or death. Zenovia’s stomach churned.

“…I’m surprised,” Wein suddenly murmured. She raised her head. “I can’t believe you already carried out my orders before I gave them to you. Now we can go ahead of schedule.”

He turned to Ninym. “We’ll head to Delunio right away. Make sure we’re ready.”

“Understood.” She quickly departed the room.

Zenovia watched all of this. “U-um, well, that is…”

“We don’t have time to point fingers. I personally don’t think the blame is on you. Convince the vassals before this is over, and your sentence will be lighter. You can do it, right, Zenovia?”

“Y-yes!!”

Wein nodded in satisfaction and grinned.

“Let’s go. We’re about to turn everything upside down.”

Fifteen thousand soldiers methodically marched through the swaying grass of the plains. It was the army of Soljest, coming to invade Natra.

Leading the troops was King Gruyere, sitting in a chariot at the forefront.

They’d already broken through the border. Soljest was slowly wedging into Natra like a thorn, and there hadn’t been much resistance so far. Natra had to be busy gathering its forces.

“—Your Majesty.” A soldier on horseback drew close to the chariot—one of Soljest’s generals. “We appear to be progressing without incident.”

“Looks that way. I figured the prince would have something up his sleeve, but I guess he ran out of time… Disappointing, really.” Gruyere yawned, letting out a beastly groan.

The general went on. “Is it true Delunio isn’t going to supply troops?”

On paper, Soljest was just supporting Delunio, which was under attack from Natra. Yet Gruyere’s troops were the only ones invading Wein’s kingdom.

“This is an excellent opportunity to attack Natra on two fronts. If they aren’t mobilizing, we have to wonder if Delunio even intends to take out Natra…”

“Who cares?” Gruyere asked nonchalantly. “All they had to do was provide a ‘justified’ reason for two eyesore nations to take each other out. What more could Delunio ask for?”

“But as a Holy Elite, you could have waged war in Natra without a reason to do it. We’re at a disadvantage in this situation…”

“That’s fine,” Gruyere asserted. “Thinking is for losers, especially if you’re trying to guess the enemy’s plans. I am your king, the one who smites every foe—Gruyere.”

His composure caused the general to bow. “You’re right, Your Majesty. Forgive my needless questioning.”

“I forgive you,” Gruyere replied, nodding generously.

I doubt Sirgis will stop at Soljest and Natra. He has bigger plans than running us to the ground.

The king knew Sirgis was surprisingly crafty. He had to be, considering he’d climbed the social ladder from commoner to prime minister.

Whatever his methods, he’s plotting something after the battle with Natra.

Gruyere looked like he could hardly wait.

He lived for battle and considered it one of the many pleasures in life. This stream of foes was worth more than a mountain of gold.

“The troops of Delunio are weak. Had they joined us, they would have tripped us up,” the general offered.

“Uh-huh. And we’d have to give them a chunk of any new territory we acquire. We’re better off without them.”

The general smiled in agreement.

A messenger came racing toward them on horseback. “I have a report! Scouts have spotted forces from Natra!”

“How many soldiers?”

“Between seven and eight thousand!”

The messenger and the general began to talk between themselves.

Gruyere interrupted. “Did you see the prince’s flag?”

“No confirmation on that front, but…”

“Hmph. Has he gone to win over Sirgis…?”

What a waste, Gruyere thought. Reconciling with Delunio would be a brilliant move to halt his troops, but it was hard to imagine Wein would be able to convince Sirgis. The prince would come up empty, and Gruyere would lose his opportunity to battle him. A lose-lose, if you asked him.

“I guess the unexpected brings the fun to the battlefield.”

He seemed to be the only one who was satisfied.

Gruyere spoke to his general. “Tell the entire army. As soon as we arrive at our destination, get into formation and prepare for battle.”

“Understood!”

Watching his general carry out orders in his periphery, Gruyere dispelled thoughts of Wein from his mind and concentrated on the upcoming fight with Natra.

“…So, those are the troops of Soljest?” Raklum murmured as he observed the battle-ready enemy forces from a distant hill.

Behind him, his own men were prepared, too. They numbered around eight thousand.

“Our opponent stands at fifteen thousand. Twice as many as us. The difference is clear as day.”

A man stood next to Raklum. Borgen, the military commander of Marden. “I thought I could earn some glory in this dead-end post. I never thought I’d get tossed onto this hellhole. I would turn tail if I had one.”

“Be grateful you don’t. If you had turned your back on me, I would have killed you.”

“Yeah? It seems the prince thinks highly of you, but are you sure you have the skill to take me on?”

“Without question. If you were my opponent, I would do you in with my fist.”

Raklum and Borgen glared at each other before snorting and breaking into a smile. For men of the battlefield, a verbal fistfight was basically a greeting.

“Enough joking around. You know the plan, right, Borgen?”

“Of course. Do you think it’ll work?”

“Our prince’s orders are never wrong. All we have to do is carry them out.”

“Sheesh. Even more loyal than the rumors, huh.” Borgen flashed him a wry smile and turned on his heel. “Well, let’s do one last check. Don’t screw up, Raklum.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Raklum stared at the enemy army.

The battle was about to begin.

“Everything is ready, Your Majesty.”

“Fantastic.” Gruyere nodded graciously, looking out at the lineup of over ten thousand soldiers. He appeared before them in his chariot, addressing them in a booming voice.

“Answer me! Who is this man that stands before you?!”

The soldiers shouted back in unison. “““The king of beasts! The ruler of all the land!”””

Gruyere howled back at them. “Answer me! Who are you?”

“““Your fangs! The maw of the beast that rips apart the earth!”””

He lifted his halberd and used it to point toward their adversaries.

“Look, my fangs! Feast your eyes on our prey! Your body trembles with the anticipation of battle! Your blood is boiling at the appearance of a formidable enemy!”

He took a breath. “Rejoice, my fangs! It’s the battle you’ve been waiting for!”

“““RAAAAAAAAAAH!”””

Their war cry shook the earth. They had reached peak morale. Before this had a chance to cool, the commanders assigned to each area started to bark out their orders.

“All units, move out!”

Gruyere’s army raced forward in a rallying cry toward Natra.

“Well, I wonder how they’ll react.”

Now in the rear, Gruyere looked at the backs of his soldiers, gazing at the enemy army up ahead.

They weren’t even on the same playing field. The other side realized they had no chance to win in a fair fight. They had to have some kind of strategy if they were taking on the enemy.

Gruyere concentrated on the front lines, trying to probe out their little scheme.

In that instant, unfamiliar forces flanked him, caging him in. The king’s eyes widened.

“We’ll kill Gruyere. That’s the first thing on our list.”

Those were Wein’s orders to Raklum’s team before their departure.

“Understood.” Though Raklum had no objections, he did have questions. “May I ask why?”

Wein nodded, motioning to the documents in his hand. “I looked into Gruyere’s combat experience and noticed he has a habit of starting each battle in a certain way: brute force. Only after he gets a feel for his opponent does he start issuing orders.”

“Do you think that will happen this time?”

“Seems likely. His army is experienced and powerful, and he has the advantage. If we get caught up in his momentum, we could be in trouble.”

“Which is why we should aim to strike while he’s weaponizing the entire army, leaving him totally defenseless…”

“Exactly. We know the intimate details of the physical location. I’ve estimated their placement based on the speed of their advance to lay out our attack.” Wein continued. “This is a dangerous mission… Can you do it, Raklum?”

He bowed. “Trust me. As your sword, I shall sever the king’s head from his body—”

All my exits are blocked off!

Two units had launched a pincher attack against Gruyere. Each team had two hundred soldiers, led by Raklum and Borgen.

It was a lightning attack composed of their most elite forces and carried out at the very last second to avoid detection. Though it was simple enough to explain, its execution was a near-impossible undertaking.

It required extensive knowledge of the terrain, trust in their fellow soldiers, and determination to wait for the enemy to pass by and secure the right position to attack.

However, they had succeeded. Raklum’s loyalty to Wein and Borgen’s desire to save Zenovia motivated them enough to see through this plan.

“What?! What’s going on?!”

“I-it’s the enemy! It’s an attack! Protect His Majesty!”

The two units launched a barrage of attacks against Gruyere’s forces as they tightened their formation around him. Raklum sliced his way through the confused soldiers, closing in on the king. In the opposite direction, Borgen could be seen nocking an arrow and aiming it at his head.

“For His Highness—”

“For the princess—”

The two generals saw their chance.

““I’ll have your head!””

Borgen’s arrow shot out, booming like a clap of thunder, and Raklum’s sword whizzed through the air.

“—Anyone can learn technique and theory.”

There was a shrill metallic wail. Raklum’s and Borgen’s eyes widened in shock.

“If it’s conditional on peak physique and focus, it’s second rate. You need something that’s achievable by anyone—women, children, elderly, even masses of fat… Now that’s considered an excellent skill.”

An unbelievably shrewd move. Gruyere handled his halberd as if it were a piece of wood, cutting down the arrow flying at him and halting Raklum’s blow.

“Did you think this body kept me from moving around? Don’t underestimate me, General. Just because I’ve got a portly figure doesn’t mean I can’t use the dueling strategies of the royal family.”

“NGH—AAAAAAH?!”

Gruyere gave his halberd a full swing, sending Raklum away. The two put some distance between each other. The king seemed to be weary of Borgen. He gestured to his own neck.

“Love an adrenaline rush. You have my praise. But as you can see, my head is still attached.”

“…It’s too early to let down your guard, King Gruyere. This isn’t over yet.” Raklum readied his sword.

The king gave a hearty hoot. “Excellent! Now that’s what I’m taking about! Go ahead and rip off my armor of ego—!”

Raising up a war cry, Raklum and Gruyere crashed into each other.

Wein’s team made their carriage go as fast as it could and reached the capital of Delunio. Jiva had arrived ahead of time as an ambassador, greeting them in front of their prepared lodgings.

“I’ve been expecting you, Prince Wein, Lady Zenovia.” He bowed deeply.

“How’s the situation looking?” Wein asked.

“As I mentioned before, I have managed to set up a meeting with the prime minister, though I get the impression he’s hostile.”

“Not surprising.”

It would have been extraordinary if he’d thought highly of Marden after their initial meeting.

Jiva spoke in hushed tones. “Upon further investigation, it appears the leaders of Delunio are dissatisfied with the policies of the prime minister. He might be acting in his own interest.”

“What? Are you implying he negotiated with Soljest on his own?” Zenovia asked.

Jiva nodded. “As you are aware, Soljest and Delunio have been fighting for many years, which is rooted in their sovereigns and subjects. Although the prime minister has gained sufficient power, the sudden alliance has shaken their citizens, and the vassals are resentful that their opinions have been slighted.”

“Hmm…which means he did it, though he could guess how they would react.” Wein thought for a moment. “Well, whatever. Like our army serving out there on the battlefield, we have a job to do. Jiva, how is the plan coming along?”

“The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at the palace.”

“Tomorrow, huh…” Wein considered this for a moment. “Perfect timing…”

“Your Highness?”

“Nothing. Ninym, get as much info as you can on the discord between the prime minister and the people. Lady Zenovia and Jiva will decide how we want the meeting to go with me.”

On Wein’s orders, they set out to prepare for the following day.

Meanwhile, on the other side of things…

“Sirgis, why aren’t we supplying any troops?”

They were in the audience hall of the palace in Delunio. Sitting upon the throne was the king. Sirgis was bowing before him.

“This is the perfect opportunity for us,” the king insisted. “Soljest is invading Natra. Shouldn’t we be leading our armies in aid?”

He was in his mid-thirties. There was something about his expression that housed anxiety, irritation, and pain.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, this isn’t the time,” Sirgis replied courteously. “You’re right that we could do a number on Natra if we mobilized our troops now. But this would mean less blood will be spilled from the troops of Soljest. For this matter, it is crucial that both nations wear themselves out. We ought to remain in place and watch over the battle.”

“A-ah…I-is that so…?” The king’s face made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. He looked at Sirgis.

The prime minister hated him for walking on eggshells around his subordinates. Even so, he had no plan to criticize the king. After all, Sirgis was the one who had taught him to behave that way.

From the moment the king was born, Sirgis hadn’t allowed him to think for himself, forcing him to indulge in pleasure and escape his duties. As a result, he’d regressed into the type of person who couldn’t handle even daily necessities by himself, much less politics.

“Th-then we’ll mobilize after the two armies are done fighting, right?”

“Depends on the outcome of the battle. If they’re suitably worn down, it’s possible.”

“I see… That’s fine. If they are up against Natra, it won’t be easy for Soljest. If our army uses that moment to rush in, we’ll be able to take them both down—and become the alphas of the North…!”

“…Well then, I have to review reports from our messengers.”

“Very good. You may leave.”

Sirgis bowed as he excused himself from the king’s presence, followed by his minions.

When they were a distance away from the reception hall, Sirgis murmured, “Two broken nations, huh. I wish.”

“Do you think one of them will win? Are we betting on Soljest?”

“Most likely. I’m familiar with their kingdom and Gruyere,” Sirgis answered, nodding at his subordinate’s question. “After all, Natra is a third-rate nation that has flowed with the tide. Up against the Beast King, there’s little chance of their success. I mean, it would be nice if they did a number on Soljest, but I’m keeping my expectations low.”

He shook his head. “I hate that the king and military officials are keeping our forces on standby in case of some golden opportunity. All it’s done is add to our expenses,” he spat before switching topics.

“Once messengers arrive with news of Soljest’s overwhelming victory, no one will be able to suggest we interfere. What do you have to report?”

“There are a number of items.”

The subordinates flipped through their papers.

“As expected, there has been no stopping the flow of products made in Natra. The clothing seems popular among youth,” said one.

“It’s even starting to affect the sales of our domestic products,” added another. “There have been several incidents of confrontation between the progressive youth and conservatives.”

“That pest…” Sirgis clicked his tongue, scorning Natra. “If Soljest takes them down, they won’t be able to do commerce so easily. That’s when we’ll make our move.”

“In addition, there has been a wave of protest letters from the nobility over the revised tax system a few days ago. There have been reports of deteriorating health as of late.”

“Hmph, sounds like signs of an epidemic. Keep an eye on the town, and immediately file a report if the situation appears to be getting worse. As for the letters… Leave only the necessary ones in my office. Burn the rest.”

“Consider it done. Next—” The male subordinate was at a loss for a moment. “I would like to remind you of your meeting with the messengers from Natra tomorrow. We’ve received word that the prince of Natra and marquess of Marden have arrived at the capital.”

Sirgis nodded. Wein had used a favor owed to Marden to set up a meeting, but it would all be in vain.

“I imagine they’re hoping to put a halt to our moral cause by pacifying us… Hmph. I can’t wait to see them beg me through their tears.”

The battle continued to unfold between Natra and Soljest. Another fight was about to break out in a place far removed from the front lines—with big implications for their futures.

The next day, Wein and Zenovia were led to a room in the royal palace. Several officials and a petite elderly man awaited them. It was the prime minister of Delunio, Sirgis.

“I appreciate your willingness to meet us on such short notice, Sir Sirgis.” Wein placed his hand against his chest.

“Don’t mention it. I’ve recently imposed on you, so consider us even.” He offered a smile, though Zenovia sensed his eyes were dark with scorn. “It’s a great honor to have you visit our nation. How can I help you? With all that’s going on between Delunio and Natra, I imagine you aren’t stopping by without reason.”

“You’re right,” Zenovia cut in. “The war between our nations rose from the issue between our territory and your land. We have come to seek an amicable solution.”

“Ah, I see.” He seemed to nod in understand before snorting. “In that case, I only ask that you return home. I met you here out of a favor to Marden; I don’t think anything will come out of it.”

“P-please wait!” Zenovia began to rise to her feet. “I’m aware this territorial dispute is an unfortunate misunderstanding on both sides! We can still talk this over!”

Sirgis sneered as he shook his head. “How strange. I recall you refusing to discuss this further when we requested you return our land… Not to mention, we’ve already resolved the issue.”

“What…?” Zenovia was just about to ask what he was implying.

“—Might I join you?”

The door swung open, revealing a young girl. She looked familiar to Wein.

“Princess Tolcheila…?!”

The princess of Soljest, Tolcheila.

The young girl Wein had met in Soljest stood before them.

“I thought we might meet again soon. It’s been a while, Prince Wein.”

He didn’t question why she was here. It was obvious Gruyere had a lot of faith in her. That was why he’d sent her to Delunio as a special envoy to halt any negotiations with Natra.

“Your passionate gaze makes me feel naughty…” She looked at Zenovia. “I see. So you’re the huge idiot who fell into our trap.”

“Wha—” Zenovia’s cheeks stung red with embarrassment.

Tolcheila giggled. “An incompetent ally is a burden. Wouldn’t you agree, Prince Wein?”

“……”

As Wein remained silent, Sirgis spoke up in exasperation. “Interrupting diplomatic negotiations is not appropriate, Princess Tolcheila.”

“No need to be so formal. This concerns Soljest, too, you know. Why don’t I share the news? The loaned land will be returned to Delunio once our army recovers it.”

Zenovia’s breath caught in her throat. Next to her, Wein nodded in understanding.

Delunio was profiting off the fight between Soljest—a source of aggression for years—and Natra—an up-and-coming threat. The two nations would crush each other without any intervention. And coming out with Marden territory would be an ultimate win for Delunio.

“You’re exactly like King Gruyere. You’re a wild child…” Sirgis trailed off. “But Princess Tolcheila is right. Soljest will procure our lands for us. Do you understand why there is no need for discussion?”

“Ngh…!” Zenovia grit her teeth.

The bond between Delunio and Soljest was strong. She couldn’t spy any weaknesses between them, but she had to split them apart somehow. If she couldn’t figure something out, the fate of Natra and Marden would be all her fault—

“Princess Tolcheila,” Wein said, suddenly speaking up. “This is regarding your earlier question. I do not think Lady Zenovia is incompetent.”

“Yeah? Of all things to say. This is a huge oversight on her part.”

“I know firsthand.” Wein smiled. “I know she’s the type who will keep getting back up even when she’s knocked down.”

Zenovia couldn’t immediately tell if he was encouraging or ridiculing her for becoming discouraged. Regardless, it sparked something in her heart just as it was about to give in.

I accept it.

She accepted she’d faced failure after failure. However, Wein was right: She had struck back at traitorous vassals, the enemy nation that destroyed her homeland, and even Wein, who tried to use her for everything she was worth.

That was why she had it in her. She could fight back against this odious man.

“—I understand what you’re saying,” Zenovia began as she steadied her breath and switched her brain into high gear. “However, Sir Sirgis, will you be able to pull it off?”

“Are you questioning whether Soljest will be able to take the land back?”

Tolcheila giggled. “Natra defeating our troops? You can’t be serious. Or you’re plain stupid.” She turned to Sirgis. “You’re more acquainted with Soljest than these two here. What do you think?”

“I would declare it impossible. Soljest would never lose.” Sirgis reluctantly took her side. Considering the rocky history of their nations, it was inevitable.

Zenovia has been hoping for this.

“Exactly. The army of Soljest is powerful. It will likely defeat Natra with ease. But won’t victory bring you to a standstill?”

“What?” Tolcheila gasped.

“I’m saying there’s a chance the troops of Soljest will face no harm and gain more power.”

Sirgis’s eyes narrowed. The young princess looked taken by surprise.

Though he would welcome the destruction of the two nations, Sirgis didn’t think that was realistic. But what if the situation became much more complicated than he’d hoped?

It would be bad for us if Soljest crushes Natra and expands their borders…!

Any suggestion that Natra could topple Soljest could immediately be shot down, but they couldn’t deny the possibility that Soljest would win by a landslide.

“… It’s worth considering.” Sirgis nodded sternly. The ridicule on his face was gone.

Next to him, Tolcheila gave it some serious thought for a few moments before playfully shrugging her shoulders. “How deplorable. You sound like you’re implying we’ll throw our allegiance out the window once we defeat Natra.”

“Am I wrong?” Zenovia fired back.

Tolcheila took it square on. “We value loyalty. I will not stand for false accusations of betrayal!” she shouted. “Besides, even if Natra did eliminate Soljest, wouldn’t you attack Delunio next?”

“False accusations? Speak for yourself. If we can resolve our differences, Natra is prepared to forge an alliance with Delunio.”

It was a verbal battle between Zenovia and Tolcheila.

Sirgis watched on. “Excellent arguments… But Soljest has already promised to return our land. This is key.”

There it is, thought Zenovia. She understood this well. That was why she had only one thing left to say.

“We’ll hand over…twice the size of the original land.”

“What was that…?!” Tolcheila’s eyes widened.

Sirgis looked at her with interest. “Are you fine with that?”

Obviously not…! Zenovia barked silently but nodded with composure.

She would give up territory that she’d never intended on relinquishing. It was a huge step backward. It would hurt their economy and their military power. She’d lose popularity among her people, and it would hurt Natra’s position.

But…! Despite it all, I want to take away their moral justification to fight and stop the invasion! That’s the priority, even if it means I pay the price!

She was so stressed, she thought her heart might stop beating. In fact, that would have given her some respite, but she didn’t want it to happen. She had to bear the weight of her decision.

“In that case, it is a different story.”

“S-Sir Sirgis! Are you turning your back on our alliance?!”

“I wouldn’t. However, it’s not your place to decide whether we reconcile or not.”

He sounded ready to abandon her. Tolcheila’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

You little rat! It’s getting to your head! I need to delay their negotiation to give time for my father to crush their army…!

The gears in her mind were whirring.

Zenovia felt confident, just a little bit. Her hands balled into fists under the table.

All right—!

—I win, Sirgis quietly confirmed to himself.

He’d expected Zenovia to relinquish her lands for the sake of peace—and that Tolcheila would try to interfere.

Kids these days… No foresight, I tell you.

Sirgis’s only concern was protecting his country from Soljest and Natra.

After Marden had become a vassal state, he’d predicted Soljest and Natra would team up. He had a hunch they would focus their attack on Delunio, which spurred him to find a way out.

His initial plan had been to form an alliance with Natra against Soljest, but it didn’t take him long to reject this idea. Even if they tried to cooperate, he couldn’t ever see them winning against Soljest. After all, he was basically traumatized by Gruyere’s kingdom in the past.

Even if they did win, the damage would be astronomical. He couldn’t care less about the deaths of hundreds of thousands of soldiers from Natra, but those of his own people were unforgivable. He would never let them die in a meaningless war. For this reason, Sirgis had chosen to ignore his official duties to pursue an alliance with Soljest.

I’m aware of King Gruyere’s nature. He was planning to fight the crown prince all along.

That was why Sirgis had secretly negotiated with the king. If Gruyere wanted to fight with Natra, the prime minister would provide the moral grounds to wage war. In return, Soljest would take part of Marden territory and return it to Delunio.

In the end, they had reached an agreement. War had broken out between Soljest and Natra.

It must seem as if the two countries are about to crush one another…

But this wasn’t true, of course. Sirgis was certain Soljest would be victorious. In his opinion, synchronized destruction was an impossibility.

Others wouldn’t be able to follow his logic. After all, wouldn’t that just give Soljest more power? The alliance would fall through with time. Even if Natra cut them down to size, Soljest would grow large enough to bare its fangs at Delunio.

Their theory was right. Of that, Sirgis was certain, which was why he had another plan.

When we get back our land…I’ll donate it to Levetia.

The Kingdom of Marden had fallen to Cavarin in the previous year. There was no mistaking it had been a dirty move. Even so, they had received no criticism from foreign nations.

Why? Because the king had been a Holy Elite. In the West, it served as a pardon.

Even if Soljest attacks us, no one will come to our aid, just as we did not rush to Marden’s side. But that will all change if we have a Holy Elite!

If Delunio could just get their hands on one, not even King Gruyere would be able to invade so easily.

I’ll prolong this meeting to interfere with Soljest. That will only incite Natra’s enmity. All eyes will be on us as the three nations wage war. And in the midst of it, I can lay the groundwork to donate this land…and become a Holy Elite!

The prerequisites to become a priest were arbitrary: experience as a priest, contributions to Levetia’s cause, coming from the bloodline of the founder or his lead disciples, among others. The real task was gaining the support of the majority of the other members. That virtually canceled out every other condition. A large contribution would secure him some support.

A commoner becoming a Holy Elite! I’d be up there with the likes of King Gruyere!

That was the dream—sweet and tempting. He would become a Holy Elite—someone who could guide his beloved nation forward. One might say no greater glory could be found in this world.

We don’t need new land! Our territory has a long and storied history! Our people are good and devout! We have a rich culture! Delunio is already perfect! If I were to become one of the holy few, it will only cement its perfection!

That vision was about to become reality. Now that he’d come this far, his plan was unstoppable.

Except Sirgis had forgotten…that there was another monster in the room.

Wein Salema Arbalest.

“It seems we have come to an agreement,” Wein said suddenly, breaking the silence.

This snapped the prime minister back to his senses. “Prince Wein, do you have no objections to ceding part of Marden?”

Zenovia was lord of the territory, but Wein was her superior. They’d run into problems if he refused, but—

“It’s Lady Zenovia’s decision. I have nothing to add.”

He gave his approval. He must have realized it would leave him at a disadvantage, but his expression gave away nothing.

“If you say so. Well then…”

“Yes,” Wein agreed with a nod.

“Why don’t we get down to the real discussion?”

What? They balked at him, except for Zenovia.

No one had any idea what he was talking about. They had just settled things between Natra and Delunio.

“Prince Wein, what do you mean by ‘the real discussion’?” Sirgis couldn’t help himself.

Wein flashed a smile at him. “—Let’s go kill Gruyere together.”

Gruyere looked out upon the standstill, appearing bored.

“Natra’s defenses are persistent. They’re not moving at all.”

“Which is giving us a hard time.”

Gruyere sighed at the one subordinate. “I say it’s high time I make my move…”

“You can’t! Have you forgotten their surprise attack?!”

“Exactly! They could be setting up a trap at this very second, waiting for us to charge our way through!”

“We ought to proceed with caution!”

Gruyere was stumped by the choir of protests. The enemy generals Raklum and Borgen had led a surprise attack that had targeted him. However, one could see from his overall health that they had failed. Gruyere’s military prowess had enabled him to survive the attack. His soldiers had come rushing to his aid, forcing the enemy generals to retreat.

Though he had ordered his men to hound them, the generals had slipped away as the soldiers fretted over his welfare. The army had tightened their formation around him, which meant their offensive attacks were lacking. This prevented them from breaking through the enemy army. A few days had already passed since they fell into a deadlock.

That surprise attack got me all excited, but I never thought it would leave me caged in…

Gruyere glanced up at the sky. Evening was already upon them. The sun would soon set and fade to night, making it impossible to engage in any battle.

Well, no big deal. All my men are growing impatient. If tomorrow seems boring, I’ll beat Natra down with the weight of my entire army.

He was about to order his generals to pull back their army…

“Hmm—?”

Under his gaze, Gruyere witnessed the enemy troops making their move.

“…I don’t get it,” Sirgis said to Wein in a serious voice. “Killing King Gruyere… Why would I agree to doing that?”

The prime minister must have not wanted to cause any discord, because his refusal was polite. If he entertained Wein’s stupid proposal, it threatened to ruin their agreement.

Wein flashed him a teasing smile, looking carefree. “Why? Don’t you want to kill the king?”

—You imbecile! I would have done that a long time ago if I could have pulled it off! Sirgis shouted inside.

If presented the chance, he would kill Gruyere in a heartbeat. Ever since Sirgis became prime minister, he couldn’t count how many times the king caused him grief.

Even so, it was impossible. Gruyere was stronger than the average man. On the battlefield, the mere mention of his name made officers and soldiers of Delunio tremble.

“Please stop joking around. If you refuse to let it go, I’ll have no choice but to reconsider our agreement!” His tone grew gruff.

Half of it was a performance and half from the heart. His experience as prime minister told him these conversations could turn dangerous if allowed to continue.

“…I believe Lady Zenovia mentioned this earlier, but…” Wein started, suddenly changing topics. “I’m concerned about Soljest winning by a landslide. If that happens, civilian lives will be involved. As prince, that would break my heart.”

“……” Sirgis couldn’t help but feel confused.

What’s with this boy? What’s he trying to say…?

He couldn’t get a read on him. Was he moving the conversation forward with something else in mind?

Sirgis glanced at Zenovia and saw the anxious look on her face. She seemed to know what he was implying. However, he couldn’t guess from her expression alone.

“…It’s no wonder they call you a benevolent ruler, Prince Wein.”

Sirgis had to try to figure it out on his own. He went on.

“Your people are your priority. I understand. Although I cannot come together with you to form a joint front against Soljest… I would be willing to accept those seeking refuge.”

How’s that? Sirgis awaited his response.

The previous deal would have left Delunio as the sole winner. Wein was trying to get him to pay the price, albeit a small one.

If he agrees to this, we’ll be fine. But if he comes out with any more surprises…

There was a good chance they would have to reconsider their deal.

Wein nodded. “That would be very helpful. My people would be relieved. Are you sure? I know Delunio isn’t very welcoming to outsiders.”

“I admit we have a conservative stance to protect our culture. However, we are open enough to accept those who are displaced by the ravages of war.”

Sirgis seemed to guess correctly: Wein wanted both parties to pay the price. The prime minister let out a sigh of relief.

“Well then,” the prince said, “I’ll be sure to send them your way—eight hundred thousand of them to be exact.”

Sirgis’s vision went white.

Eight hundred thousand. Tolcheila ruminated on that number in her mind.

Eight hundred thousand. That was around their current population, including Marden.

She could see through his scheme. Wein was insisting Delunio take in his entire kingdom.

“—What in the world are you saying?!” Tolcheila blurted out. “Accepting your entire population?! That’s impossible! Why would you even suggest that?!”

“Why? You know, Princess Tolcheila.” Wein smiled. “Natra is on the brink of collapse. Isn’t it my duty to consider the citizens’ safety?”

“What?! On the brink of c-collapse?!”

Wein nodded dramatically. “The enemy army is powerful. You were right about that. I’m certain we’ll be defeated and they’ll close in on the capital with ease. That’s why I wanted to find a place for my people to flee beforehand… Isn’t that a perfectly normal reason?”

Tolcheila was at a loss for words.

It did make sense, but she didn’t understand it. How could she ever comprehend something that would devastate their own countries?

“Th-that’s…preposter…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Sirgis blurted next to Tolcheila as she trembled. “A few hundred or a thousand is one thing, but eight hundred thousand?! No way we can accommodate them!”

“I agree,” Wein replied with a nod. “But we’re going to send them anyway.”

“Nnghhh… Damn it! Are you out of your mind?!”

Rage was turning his face all kinds of colors.

“We’ll use military force to keep them out! We’ll show no compassion or mercy! Thousands of civilians will die without ever entering our borders! Is that what you want?!”

Sirgis wasn’t bluffing. If that came to pass, he would make sure to see it through. The prime minister saw foreigners as dust. The people of Delunio were the only real treasure.

However, Wein was steadfast.

“Defending yourself through force? …Is your army capable of that?”

“What…?!” His eyes widened. He could instinctively tell Wein wasn’t spouting whatever came to his head.

But what could keep the military from functioning?

As Sirgis furiously turned it over in his mind, Wein flashed him a grin.

“Don’t you think yellow stands out?”

Everyone in the room froze at this random statement.

“Yellow? Yellow…”

Something was tugging at Sirgis. Memories of yellow clothes flooded his mind. He questioned why he was remembering this now, and—

“…Damn it…!” He came across a likely answer. “Was that why you chose that gaudy color? To stir our youth and spark an internal rebellion?!”

This shocked Tolcheila. I remember seeing some kids in yellow on the way here.

Why would that sow the seeds of rebellion?

Wein glanced at Tolcheila as she came up empty.

“Out of all colors…red, blue, black, white…yellow clothes are at the bottom of the barrel. The color is just too bright to be incorporated into an outfit. In fact, it makes you stick out like a sore thumb.”

Products made in Natra were all the rage in Delunio. Yellow outfits were being flaunted everywhere. High visibility was helping the trend grow.

“By wearing the same color, it’s fostered a sense of unity—as a group.”

“Ah…” Tolcheila gasped.

What if they had a collective goal? Like rejecting conservation culture, for instance? Or defying a repressive religion? Or denouncing the nobility, who loved to gain concessions?

What if banding together as a group sparked anger and dissatisfaction, and the young people realized they needed to purge these things from their lives?

The youth are the cause of unrest! Yellow clothing has turned into their symbol, and they have started to rally under it like blistering flames!

It was an indescribable situation. Tolcheila shivered at this concept beyond all imagination. It was impressive she didn’t break down. The average person would have found themselves in over their heads.

And Sirgis wasn’t average.

“…Don’t you dare look down on me, Wein Salema Arbalest!”

He banged his fist against the desk. Even though he accepted that he’d been unwittingly roped into this sneaky strategy, he would not fold his cards here.

“So what if a bunch of kids rebel?! It’s just a phase! Our army will have them under control in an instant and—”

“Yellow dye is hard to come by,” Wein interrupted. “After all, there isn’t much demand for it. It was hard to procure, even from the Empire. And it has one pesky little trait.”

He took a breath.

“It’s made from a poisonous flower.”

“Excuse me…?” Sirgis’s mind ground to a halt.

What did he just say?

“Its poison is very potent, though the color payoff is subtle. It was originally meant for very small items, not clothes. When worn, it slowly weakens the body and eventually leads to death.”

“W-wait… That can’t be… There can’t be something that convenient.”

“Reports of people growing sick… Haven’t you heard the reports?”

Sirgis looked appalled. He thought back to the reports from his subordinate a few days earlier. The phenomenon was among them.

“Sorry, Sirgis. Stirring up a rebellion is only the first step.” Wein looked at the prime minister and grinned. “My plan is to destroy your youth once you’ve exhausted yourself from suppressing a rebellion.”

“D-damn it! You…”

“Allow me to walk you through it. Your forces will mobilize to stop the uprising, but the youth will put up a tough fight. Well, I’ll do my best to set it up that way. As soon as the suppression starts and body count increases, young people will drop like flies. There will be rumors it’s a curse or an epidemic, and even the military will lose control of the subjects. They’ll be racing to escape the country.”

Wein went on. “That’s when eight hundred thousand of my people will advance on you. The army will have no way to stop them. The people will start building villages first, then towns, and finally cities. They’ll try to create a new life for themselves. The increase in population will result in a food shortage and cause cities to stagnate. The culture will become virtually unrecognizable, and the impoverished people of Delunio will try to reject my subjects. Naturally, we’ll resist, causing disputes to break out and deteriorate public order. Surrounding nations will intervene under the pretext of aiding the refugees, who have been treated unjustly. Without a proper army of its own, Delunio will be immediately be invaded by foreign nations—”

Wein gave a troubled grin.

“Oh dear. It seems your kingdom will collapse.”

He’s a monster… Zenovia had thought when Wein told her about the plan a day prior.

“First, we’ll go with your plan to cede the territory. If we can reach an agreement, then that’s fine. After we form a real alliance with Gruyere and use my plan to get Delunio to destroy itself from the inside out, Soljest and Natra will take over.”

Wein continued. “Sirgis might pretend to go along with our plan to buy time. In that case, I’ll intentionally reveal my plan to him, take Delunio itself hostage, and use both our countries to subjugate Soljest… Either way, Natra will come out on top.”

Zenovia had shivered.

He was basically saying they would threaten Delunio—by using Wein’s own kingdom as a means to an end if it meant destroying Sirgis’s beloved country. It was abnormal. How could royalty come up with this idea?

No… Prince Wein is the only one who could have concocted this plan.

Nobility considered themselves special, only because they were “noble.” Because they were born “special” and carried “special” blood. Because it was only natural they would think this way.

However, Wein was different. On this continent, he must have been the only one who referred to his citizens as accomplices and snubbed his lineage. Only he could ever hit upon such an idea—even if it meant making a pawn of his ancestry and homeland.

“Q-quit…pulling my leg!” Sirgis shrieked, straining his vocal cords. “What the hell are you doing?! Do you think I’ll put up with this? You bastard! How could you do this as a prince?!”

Wein had approached this with a vastly different point of view. Sirgis couldn’t wrap his head around it. His ranting was all over the place.

“I—I know. I’ll order the people to stop wearing your clothes immediately and…”

“Ha-ha-ha… Sir Sirgis. Do you think I’d be explaining this to you if I thought you could put a stop to it?”

“……Ngh!” Sirgis trembled. Anyone could see he was on the verge of breaking.

Tolcheila stepped in. “Pull yourself together, Sir Sirgis! You mustn’t be fooled by his tricks! It’s all hypothetical!” Her grin feigned concern, as she glared at him. “I have never heard of such a dye! Even if people have fallen ill, it could be coincidental!”

“Look into my eyes, Princess Tolcheila. Do I look like I am lying?”

“Obviously!”

“Ouch. That’s not nice.” Wein shrugged his shoulders.

But she’s not wrong!

As the princess pointed out, there was no such dye. Even if it did exist, there was no way they’d cultivate a dangerous plant in large quantities. Everything about the poison was a bluff.

The uptick in illness was no coincidence.

By dressing themselves in our shoddy clothes, they’re basically wearing close to nothing as the season is turning. Of course they’re going to get sick.

Natra’s inferior industries weren’t anything new, but only the citizens were in the know. Sirgis and Tolcheila were none the wiser.

Either way, Wein had already driven the stake through his heart. Anyone could see Sirgis was panicking. Tolcheila could still express her suspicions, but the prime minister was about to spiral. The princess understood that arguing over whether the dye was poisonous wouldn’t help Sirgis make a comeback. She approached it from a different angle.

“You almost got me, Prince Wein! If I had nothing to do with this matter, I would have planted a kiss on your lips! Let’s say you managed to bring unrest to Delunio. Is it even feasible to bring eight hundred thousand people here?”

It just sounded reckless. It would include women. Children. The elderly. The sick. Those who were eager to go west. Those who wanted to hold on to their connections to the Empire. It seemed impossible to lead them as a collective…

“But didn’t I pull it off with thirty thousand people?”

A shiver went up their spines.

Right… Prince Wein has done this before! He managed to mobilize the citizens of Mealtars!

Of course, it was no eight hundred thousand. It was hard to say if his skills would transfer to a larger crowd. However, even with the entire decimal point difference, he had succeeded in mobilizing thirty thousand people, which was an impressive feat by itself.

“In that case… I know! I’ll take your head…!” Sirgis bellowed, shaking his fist.

“You’ve misunderstood me. Falanya was the one who pulled it off. I just supported her. I’ve already given her detailed instructions to mobilize if I die here… So, what will you do?”

“Ngh…AAAAH!” Sirgis hung his head powerlessly, keeping his fist in the air.

“I need to stop my father from invading…!” Tolcheila persisted doggedly. “Your strategy will only work if we’re hostile. Without a true threat, your subjects won’t be up in arms, even if you insist as prince and princess. It’ll buy us time to come up with a new strategy with Delunio!”

“—Pardon me!” An official dashed through the doors.

“What the hell is it?! Can’t you tell we’re busy?!” Tolcheila took out her irritation on him.

“But I have an urgent message for Sir Sirgis…”

The prime minister looked up.

“Spit it out already! If it turns out to be nothing, I’ll kick the shit out of you!”

“Y-yes!” He wasn’t sure why a foreign princess had rebuked him. “We received news on the battle between Natra and Soljest. The contents read—”

“Reporting in! The troops of Natra have abandoned their post and retreated. It has been confirmed they’re heading toward a fortress in the mountains! It seems a flying column had been putting it together! At this rate, we believe the two troops will converge!” reported the scout.

The commanders led by Gruyere groaned in unison.

“They got us…”

“I guess that surprise attack was just to buy time?”

“I think they were hoping to get His Majesty’s head if the opportunity presented itself. But they’d always had a backup plan.”

The other day, Gruyere’s army had upped their defenses after receiving reports that their enemy was moving around sunset. With poor visibility, nighttime battle spelled friendly fire. After being ambushed, the top leaders of his army were naturally wary of a night raid. They chose to raise up an impregnable wall with the king at its center.

As a new day dawned, the army was met with an astonishing sight. The enemy camp was completely deserted. They had hurriedly scouted the four corners, when they received news of an eyewitness report.

Their army of eight thousand had suffered no major causalities, managing to keep Soljest at bay for days before abandoning their camp in the night. It was like they were mocking their hypervigilance. They’d escaped to a fortress they’d stealthily set up behind them.

“They’re just buying time.”

“Indeed. There haven’t been major casualties on our side either. Even if they lock themselves away, they have a long way to go before they can hope to match our men. We can’t be careless, but there is nothing to fear.”

“Turning tail at the eleventh hour? And they call themselves soldiers? They’re choosing a path that welcomes criticism from society. What a disgrace.”

They weren’t bluffing. Soljest still had the upper hand, even if Natra had duped them. The generals knew this, so morale remained high…all except for Gruyere.

His expression was stern. Something feels off…

The enemy was buying time. It certainly seemed that way. However, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. He could feel an indescribable sensation settling in his gut.

But this is part of the fun.

Gruyere smiled. The real thrill was not in a one-sided hunt, but the rush of risking your life on the battlefield. His heart began to pound. He could feel something burning inside him.

“Tell all the forces: We’re chasing our escaped prey.”

““Yes!””

The officers responded in unison.

“—General Hagal!”

Hagal had ordered the fortress to be built. He turned around.

Raklum and Borgen stood behind him on horseback.

“It seems you’re doing well. I’m glad we could meet up again.”

“I apologize for the trouble. I return full command of the army to you, General,” Raklum replied.

“Yes… So tell me. How was King Gruyere on the battlefield?”

“Beyond our expectations. He was even able to repel my arrows.” Borgen shrugged.

“The surprise attack plan was a success, though I’m ashamed to report I couldn’t slay him.” Raklum had some pent-up frustration.

Hagal nodded. “That’s just the way it is. It’s near impossible to take down big game in one shot. I won’t tell you to get over it, but our next battle is just up ahead. Getting caught up in the past will dull your sword.”

“Right…”

“Besides, everything is still progressing according to plan. The enemy has assumed we’re retreating to buy time,” Hagal stated.

Borgen looked at the troops of Soljest heading toward them. “Do you think those guys have realized the prince’s true aim?”

“Absolutely not,” Hagal replied, remembering how Wein had given his orders. “There’s no way. His ideas are too far removed from any soldier hoping for victory.”

Hagal’s voice seemed to house both fear and admiration.

“Who else would factor in the retreat of their own army to the diplomacy schedule?”

“The armies have clashed, and Natra has turned tail…!”

As they listened to the official’s report, the victor—Tolcheila—gulped. Her ally, Sirgis, moaned.

“Wow! Your troops never let me down! Very strong!”

The loser—Wein—seemed to be more confident than anyone else and smiled.

“At this rate, Soljest will soon descend upon the capital. Oh no, Princess Tolcheila,” he said. “It seems we’ve run out of time to talk.”

“W-wait…! Please give me the details of your troops’ retreat!”

“I’m terribly sorry. We don’t know much yet… But your troops are in pursuit.”

“Ngh…!” Tolcheila gritted her teeth.

It was hard to get precise details from the front lines. It took time for news to trickle in, and those on the field wanted to report as much good news as possible.

We haven’t withdrawn. We’ve just fallen back after a little scuffle. But I knew they would convey it that way in the initial report.

Everything was going according to his calculations, which he had settled prior to heading for Delunio.

Wein took everything into account: the rate of advance of their respective armies; the date, time, and location of their projected battlefield; its distance to the capital of Delunio; the speed of the horses; their diplomatic itinerary. There was nothing he missed. He even planned for the initial report to arrive that day.

I didn’t think the timing would be so perfect!

After all, Sirgis had been driven into a corner. If Wein was going to question him, this was the time to do it.

“Sir Sirgis, I understand your feelings,” Wein said sadly. “At this rate, Delunio will be ravaged by rebellion and broken apart by my eight hundred thousand subjects. The remaining people of Delunio will lose their country, culture, and pride, leaving them no choice but to be nomads. It’s a cruel state of events. My heart goes out to you.”

“…Shut up, devil!” Sirgis screeched in his bloodcurdling manner. “You think I’ll stand for this?! Do you think nothing of your own subjects?”

“Of course, I trust and value them. I think they’ll walk down their own paths, regardless of their geographic location.”

Out of context, he sounded like a benevolent ruler who adored his people. However, he was implying he was destroying his own country because he trusted his citizens. He was playing in a whole different dimension.

That’s impossible! Sirgis’s heart panged.

He prided himself on his love for his country, culture, and people. He believed anyone involved in politics shared this sentiment. This was why he couldn’t imagine coming up with this plan and executing it.

There’s no way! Tolcheila tried to pray away her agitation.

She had been trained in military affairs. She knew it wasn’t realistic to pass an edict on eight hundred thousand people and guide them all to safety in a single nation.

It might have been possible if they were trained soldiers. However, they were eight hundred thousand average citizens. Leading them would be a complete nightmare.

It was out of the question. It had to be. No doubt.

“—I’ll do it.”

The two caught their breath. The boy sitting before them emanated dreadful power.

Their hearts wavered. Their confidence diminished. They had no choice but to feel he could pull it off.

Say it! Say it won’t happen! I will be a Holy Elite! I will guide this nation and its people!

Sirgis opened and closed his mouth, willing himself to speak, but the only thing that came out was an awkward groan.

Wein whispered to him, “By the way, I have an antidote.”

The prime minister gasped.

“Don’t let him to take advantage of you, Sir Sirgis! The poisonous dye is a fabrication! You must not allow him to trick you with a fake antidote!” Tolcheila insisted.

Sirgis was too exhausted to hear her words.

An antidote. It would save the people. It was a ray of light that shined at the end of the tunnel. How could he resist? It didn’t matter if the beacon of light came from the enemy’s lamp in a tunnel of his own design.

“…What can I do to get it?”

“Sir Sirgis!” Tolcheila screeched.

Wein remained unfazed. “Though it might seem my men have withdrawn, they’ve already regrouped. I imagine they’re engaging in combat right now.”

The prince knew his army was holed up in the fortress, but this made it seem like Sirgis had a grace period.

“I want your army to launch an attack from behind. If Natra and Delunio get them in a pincher attack, Soljest won’t stand a chance.”

Tolcheila spoke up. “Wait! That would go against our alliance! No other nations would trust ever Delunio!”

“Th-that’s…” Sirgis seemed uncertain.

It was not an easy decision to go against an international promise—against Gruyere, at that. To Sirgis, the king was a symbol of fear. He didn’t want to turn his back on him.

“But think of your nation,” Wein said, cutting into his thoughts. “You only have two options: Watch Soljest destroy Natra and see Delunio collapse under the weight of my subjects, or take down Gruyere together and form an alliance with Natra.”

It was time to ask the final question.

“So, what will you do?”

Silence filled the room. Tolcheila clenched her teeth. Zenovia quivered with anxiety. Sirgis scowled.

A few moments passed before the prime minister spoke.

Several days had passed since the two armies started to move into the next stage of their battle.

To put it simply, the men of Natra were on the verge of collapse.

“General Hagal! The enemy has broken through the second line of defense!”

“Send out Finn’s unit. Move Izali’s and Lauro’s units to fill in the gaps.”

“Elnan’s unit in the left flank is requesting reinforcements! The enemy attacks aren’t showing any signs of slowing down!”

“And our traps?”

“We’ve already used them up…!”

“Roland, lead a hundred-man relief unit. I’ll have other instructions for you after that.”

“Understood!”

Hagal groaned as he gave out orders from the innermost part of the fortress.

Even though we’re up against some major disadvantages, I didn’t think we’d be cornered in…especially since we have this simple but sturdy structure.

He had expected their army to be skilled, but not by this much. The battle seemed to highlight their abilities. Their perfect synchrony seemed capable of even piercing through the ocean.

They’ve already broken past our first line of defense. We can’t realistically hope to recover it.

Looking down below, he could see the enemy soldiers trying to rush up the mountain fortress, as his soldiers desperately attempted to hold them back.

It was only a matter of time before they fell. The truth was, Hagal knew it, too. They needed to come up with something soon.

I knew this would happen before the fight even began. General Hagal wasn’t upset.

My duty is to buy time and watch over Gruyere…as our units put up a good fight.

His eyes turned toward the flanks of the enemy army lined up at the foot of the mountain.

There, he saw two cavalry units donning armor from Natra.

“Damn it! I never should have agreed to this…!” Borgen spat.

He had left behind the fortress and Hagal, sprinting around the plains as he led his cavalry. Their purpose was to interfere with Soljest.

“Look at their numbers. They can penetrate through our formation. We’ll be overrun if we relegate ourselves to defense. Raklum, Borgen, lead a raid unit against the enemy to get their vitals,” Hagal had ordered at the end of the first day.

Raklum and Borgen had nodded in silence. It was painfully obvious this was the truth. Soljest was just that strong.

“Captain! There’s a hole in the enemy formation!”

“I know! All hands, follow me!”

The enemy defense wasn’t as tight as their offensive strategies, which required intense focus.

With their cavalry units, Raklum and Borgen were to repeatedly look for gaps in the enemy formation. They rushed in at every opportunity, creating a disturbance before retreating. This took Soljest’s attention away from offensive action.

Though easy to explain, the execution was nigh impossible.

General Hagal has lost his damn mind!

To be swift, each unit had five hundred men. This wasn’t enough to crush their army of fifteen thousand, of course. On the contrary. If the enemy redirected their focus on them, Raklum and Borgen would be totally annihilated.

However, Soljest wouldn’t do that. They wanted to topple the fortress and keep their energy focused on the army within its confines. They did the bare minimum to keep the two units at bay. They didn’t go out of their way to pursue them, focusing on the castle as soon as the cavalry escaped beyond reach.

The two units continued to buzz around the army, like pests to distract them. However, if they crossed a line, Soljest would take them down pronto.

In other words, it was the cavalry’s duty to risk their lives—irritating Soljest enough to keep them distracted, while not invoking the wrath of fifteen thousand men.

They calculated where to land their blows and when to retreat, jabbing their enemy with swords and arrows. This was in addition to reading into the enemy mindset and taking stock of their own men and horses. It felt like their brains were going to explode from going into overdrive. And if they failed, instant death. That was a fun bonus, right?

If they could, they would abandon their posts in a heartbeat.

We’ll lose if we quit now. But we’re just heading toward a slow defeat. It’s almost funny.

Borgen scanned the battlefield.

We’re supposed to buy time, but we might not be able to accomplish that. We need a way to turn the tide or…

He sensed activity from the enemy army.

—Brute force, huh.

Raklum clicked his tongue as he observed these new developments.

Soljest was trying to take the fortress by storm. They had kicked it up a few notches. Having switched all resources away from defense, they swooped down on Natra, massacring their soldiers. Natra resisted, concentrating their troops to take down the enemy, but it didn’t change the situation. Instead of taking their time and keeping damage to a minimum, they had nosedived into a mountain of corpses and secured their imminent defeat.

At this rate, they’ll reach the stronghold! What do we do—?!

With his eyes, Raklum scoured the battlefield in search of his best option.

And he found something he could work with.

“Ngh.” Hagal groaned from the top of the fortress as he got a look at the full picture.

He stared down at the battle unfolding below for a few more beats before speaking to the adjutant next to him.

“I have to go. I’ll leave you in command for now.”

“Understood!” The adjutant nodded without hesitation. “But where, General?”

“Where these old bones are needed, of course.”

The target was Gruyere.

Although Raklum’s and Borgen’s units were moving independent of each other, they miraculously aimed for the same place.

At this point, they couldn’t care less if they pissed off the enemy. Going after the big catch was necessary if they wanted to stop Soljest. Gruyere was in the central rear. Now that his army had switched to raw force, the troops around him were sparse.

The situation was a rehash of their other surprise attack—except his time, they would succeed. They were unrelenting, converging their units and closing in on Gruyere at the back of the formation.

That was when the enemy soldiers at the rear pivoted, flipping back to look them in the eye.

“What?!”

“This is…!”

Raklum and Borgen couldn’t believe their eyes.

The enemy units from both sides of the king had swiveled behind them, rushing toward the men of Natra as if to hold them in a suffocating embrace.

We were lured in—!

I was baited—!

It was not an improvised stunt. It was a premeditated trap. The two generals came to that same conclusion, synchronously calculating their next steps: Withdraw before the enemy completely surrounded them, or push their way forward to Gruyere?

However, neither had to make that choice. Before they had a chance, Gruyere was leading his cavalry toward them.

“You thought you would fool me twice? Big mistake!”

Gruyere’s chariot closed in on Borgen, who instantly readied his spear. As soon as they crossed paths, the general’s weapon crashed into the king’s halberd, and he was thrown from his horse.

“BORGEN!” Raklum screamed, but Gruyere didn’t give the fallen man another thought. He continued to drive his chariot at full force, this time toward him.

“Worry about yourself, General!”

Gruyere swung his halberd, which whistled through the air. It was the embodiment of violence, an attack that couldn’t be avoided or deflected.

What could he do? Herculean strength could only be matched with raw power.

“RAAAAAAAGH!”

Raklum roared, engaging every muscle in his body. His strength was channeled into his gripped sword as he met the halberd head-on. Metal shrieked against metal. He could feel it ringing in his heart. Any witnesses would have noticed cracks running through the crossed sword and halberd.

“Well, well, well! Not bad!” Gruyere broke into a savage grin as he ran past Raklum and pivoted his chariot around.

The general was getting ready to go again, waiting to counter. His face had twisted into a grimace.

“Gah…!”

He looked down at his one arm. Pins and needles shot through it.

Can I counter with this arm…?

He shot down his own question. He had to, if he didn’t want to die. This was no time to whine. He prepared himself, glaring at the king barreling toward him.

Taking advantage of the king’s redirected focus, Hagal’s unit appeared beside Gruyere.

“ Naargh!”

Gryuere’s split-second reaction was impressive. A side sweep of his halberd could smash a boulder, severing the head of Hagal’s horse as it tried to close in on him.

“…Tch!”

Gruyere clicked his tongue once, giving up on Raklum and leading his forces away. The general couldn’t even process it, but when he saw Hagal on his knees next to the fallen horse, he rushed over.

“General Hagal!”

“He only got my horse. It’s of no importance.” He swung his sword to whip off the blood. “Take Borgen and get out of here. We’ve kept a gap open in their formation for a siege.”

“U-understood!”

With Raklum in the corner of his eye, Hagal looked southwest.

“It’s almost time…which means our next move is…”

“I meant to take him down with the horse, but…that was impressive.”

Gruyere looked down at his arm as he maneuvered the chariot. He was bleeding.

Hagal had leaped from his horse, slicing Gruyere’s arm as he flew over the king’s head. He couldn’t help but admire his acrobatics.

“Your Majesty! Are you injured?!”

“I will see to it right away!”

“Quit fussing. It’s just a scratch.”

His mind was churning even as he rebuked his subordinates. Should he go after that general again, or should he attack the fortress while their leader was away?

He looked around him as if in search of a clue…when he noticed something.

“…That can’t be…”

From the southwest corner of the battlefield, he saw armed troops raising their flag high.

It was the flag of Delunio.

“Looks like we made it on time.”

The army of Delunio had close to ten thousand soldiers. Accompanying them was Wein, who murmured to himself as he looked over the battle.

“I think our main forces are safe,” Ninym responded next to him. “Did we need to rush with these troops, Wein?”

“We’d be back on square one if we found our men decimated. With Hagal holding fort, I wasn’t too worried.”

Wein went on. “Now that it’s come to this, Soljest has no more moves. We’ve won.”

The generals of Delunio gave the order to attack their enemy.

“Wh-what’s that?!”

“Delunio?! Why are they here…? This can’t be happening!”

“There looks to be about eight thousand soldiers… Maybe more!”

“This is an order for all units! There is a new enemy to the southwest! Rear guard! Defense formation! Stat!”

“Reporting in! Natra is sallying from the fortress! The front lines are requesting reinforcements!”

“Grr! They have to be working together!”

The subordinates were starting to realize what was going on, barking out orders.

Gruyere seemed euphoric, murmuring to himself. “—Marvelously done, Prince.”

Why was Delunio here? It was obvious. Wein had persuaded Sirgis to deploy his men.

Gruyere wasn’t sure how he’d pulled it off. And who could blame the king? If Gruyere had thought he could convince Sirgis, he would have done it first—but the king had thought nothing would sway him.

However, Wein found a way.

He had managed to coerce the petite man. It would have been great to see the prime minister bow before a teenage boy. It was too bad Gruyere couldn’t have seen it for himself.

His subordinates were calling out to him.

“Your Majesty! It’s unsafe here!”

“They’ll corner us! We must evacuate immediately!”

“No enemies occupy the North! We can escape if we leave now!”

They all looked strung out. After all, they had been pincered by ten thousand soldiers.

All…except for Gruyere.

“Withdraw? What are you talking about? Do you think we’ve lost?”

“Ah, no, that’s…well…”

“Don’t be stupid. This is just the beginning,” Gruyere assured, raising his voice. “Soldiers of Soljest! Fangs of your great king! Heed my voice!”

Over the metallic clash of swords and anguished cries, his beastly howl rang through the battlefield.

“Our army will go through hell if it means finding a way for survival! Do not lose yourself! Do not doubt yourself! Do not hesitate! If you succeed, glory will be ours!”

He sucked in a single breath.

“All units, follow me—!”

“It’s over. Soljest will surrender any minute now.”

In his stronghold in a back corner, Wein watched Delunio and Soljest make contact.

“Nice! Nice!” the prince commented, leaning back in his chair. “It’ll be over soon. Well, I guess I still have to negotiate with them after the war. It’s too soon to kick back. I guess I should contact Princess Tolcheila.”

Ninym didn’t take her eyes off the battlefield. “…Hey, Wein.”

“Hmm? Did they surrender?”

“No.” Something about her voice seemed fearful. “Soljest is coming this way.”

“What?!” Wein snapped his head up and groaned. “This is…bad.”

What do I do?

He knew what Gruyere was after, but Wein didn’t have any cards lefts to play. Delunio wasn’t under his command. They wouldn’t heed his orders. Besides, there wasn’t any time.

Should I run away for now…? But if I can’t beat Gruyere here…

Wein’s mind raced.

“There you are, Your Highness!” boomed one of his messengers, bowing before the shocked prince.

“I have an urgent message for His Highness from General Hagal!”

“Praise my name! Extol the name of your king! Let the enemy know we’re here!” Gruyere yelled as he advanced forward, pushing his way through Delunio.

His men responded in turn, crying out their king’s name, spurring Gruyere to prompt them again.

Delunio saw Gruyere as a bitter enemy, though he was a person to be feared. They would take him down if they could, but they also wanted to avoid coming face-to-face with him if they could help it.

Since Delunio had only just entered the battlefield, their hearts weren’t ready. When it was announced they’d be up against Gruyere, their bodies had become paralyzed and their movements slowed. The king perceived this, forcing his way through in an ostentatious manner.

Natra and Delunio have never trained together. This is new to them. I doubt they’re coordinated.

At most, they would only be able to work together well enough to attack the equipped soldiers of Soljest. If it broke out into a melee, he was dubious they would last very long.

That meant he had plenty of opportunities.

If we pierce through Delunio, their formation will block Natra from attacking us from the rear. If the two armies come into contact, it’ll create chaos and slow their movements.

While the two armies were caught up with each other, Gruyere would consolidate his soldiers and pivot behind him—to crush the enemy commanders before they had a chance to pull themselves together.

For this to succeed, it necessitated a king to guide his soldiers, composed soldiers to follow orders in a high-risk situation, and skill. The Soljest army had it all.

I never expected Delunio to make a move! I’ll give them that! But you’re jumping to conclusions if you think you’ve won, Prince!

Far from disheartened, Gruyere led his forces with more excitement than ever—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a hill to the left of his path. A large flag billowed there, marking someone standing right next to it.

The flag of Natra. Wein.

“ ”

It’s a trap, Gruyere’s gut told him. He understood this, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away.

He was consumed by greed. He could feel himself switching gears—from attacking the front lines to capturing Wein. It almost took the wind out of him.

“Taking the bait, Gruyere?”

The king felt like he could hear the prince, though it was physically impossible.

In that moment, an arrow pierced his right shoulder.

“Gwagh ?!”

Gruyere looked around—away from the hill on the left.

Torso wrapped in bloody cloth, General Borgen was standing a distance away with his bow poised at the king.

“I’ll never be able to face the princess if I cannot take your head home with me…!”

Gruyere simultaneously caught sight of Raklum racing toward him on horseback.

“Don’t think you’ll get away, Gruyere!”

Sword against halberd. Gruyere tried to repel him, but his wounded arm throbbed, and there was excruciating pain radiating from his shoulder.

“RAAAAH!” Raklum swung his sword, knocking Gruyere off his chariot.

“Gah?!”

Drawing his attention in one direction to ambush him from the other. It was an incredibly simple tactic by itself. However, for it to work, they needed to correctly assume that he would try to break through enemy lines and get the jump on him. Using their own prince as a decoy was a bold move. Gruyere finally accepted he was dealing with a mastermind.

I need to make my escape—

This trap wouldn’t spell the end. He regained his footing, switching his halberd over to his left hand, and observed…an old general standing before him.

“I made it on time.” Hagal’s sword glared. “Permission to be disrespectful?”

Gruyere paused for a moment before smirking. “Permission granted. There’s no room for manners on the battlefield!”

His halberd ripped through the air.

Hagal’s sword was far faster, lacerating his body.

It took only an instant for news of Gruyere’s capture to spread through the battlefield.

The soldiers of Soljest started to cease their resistance and surrender, marking the end of their three-way war.