The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 389 Tyrant (16) - Outbreak of War The continent was burning fiercely. Who could have predicted that the flames of revolution, once thought as fragile as a candle before a typhoon, would burn down every surrounding kingdom and even consume the central region as fuel? The way of fighting employed by Premier Nathan Bort, the military leader of the Cardian Republic, denied every bit of conventional military wisdom. It was an era when people said that raising even a single 4th rank well kept a village at peace, raising a single 5th rank well kept a territory at peace, and raising a single 6th Rank well kept a nation at peace. The Premier was not particularly obsessed with raising exceptional individuals. With the money that would have gone toward expensive grimoires, he bought armor and spears for ordinary soldiers instead, and in place of time spent cultivating a mana cultivation method, he had them run, creating "running soldiers." Cannons that were weaker than a mage's fire-breathing spells and had abysmal portability, developed yet never allowed to see the light of day. He made aggressive use of firearms that even a 4th rank — let alone a 5th rank — could easily deflect just by putting mana into their armor. He created a promotion system based solely on merit regardless of status or bloodline, and rather than simply conscripting people and telling them to fight, he focused on teaching soldiers the reasons they themselves had to fight. Trisha remembered what the Crown Prince — that is, not the Emperor of this world, but the Crown Prince of the original world — had once said in evaluating Nathan. "—A man like the protagonist leading an era. I'd say he feels like a certain someone I know, minus a bit of explosive power and plus a bit more stability." She had never ended up finding out who that "certain someone" was. The condition for getting an answer to her question had been winning at least five out of ten chess matches, but she had only won three and drawn one. In points, that was 3.5. (E/N: She is a monster!) For someone who tended to live life rather carelessly, it had been a rare match she'd gritted her teeth through, which was why it had left such an impression. So, thinking this was a rare opportunity, Trisha casually asked the Emperor about it. "By the way, Brother dearest, Your Majesty. Can I ask you something?" "That's quite the fresh title. Go on, what do you want to know?" "Before, you said the Premier reminded you of someone. Who was it, in the end?" "That? That's..." A pause. The Emperor's movements, which had been about to calmly continue speaking, halted for a moment. And something resembling a bitter smile rose to the corner of his mouth. "Well. The bet's already over, isn't it? Telling you now would be cheating." "No, come on, this is a matter of tactics and strategy. If I know who the Premier resembles, I can predict his methods to some degree, can't I?" "So what's your real reason?" "So I can later tell that other brother of mine, 'Hehehe, I already knew that,' and lord it over him!" "Fail." "Aww." Chatting about trivial things, Trisha laughed along with the Emperor. And then she thought. Just now. The Emperor in that moment he hesitated for a split second. Alondre—he was just like the idiotic prince she had first met. *** "The Empire's Emperor got his head cut off?" "The idiot Imperial Prince became the new Emperor?" Just as the provincial warlords had only understood the events within the imperial household superficially, in an age where communication and transportation weren't all that convenient, rumors naturally spread slowly. No matter how far words without feet are said to travel, they are still words, and so physical limits exist. And it wasn't even just slow. Depending on the storyteller's eloquence and intent, and the listener's interpretation and biases, the content gets carelessly shrunk, exaggerated, and even distorted. Hence, upon hearing the secret history of the Eizern Empire's imperial household, the reaction shown by other nations was this. "Hahahahaha! What an idiot! That idiotic bastard really died like the idiot he was!!" "The Eizern Imperial Family is closed for business now!! The time has come to pay for all the karma they've piled up!!" Scorn, exhilaration, delight. In truth, it could hardly have been otherwise. Would Mihail, who had done every rotten thing imaginable to his own people, have treated foreigners with any tenderness or courtesy? However badly Mihail had botched domestic affairs, the sheer size of the Empire was a bully in its own right, and Mihail used that to pull every kind of thuggish stunt on neighboring nations. The Empire already had plenty of karma from its ancestor and was on poor terms with its neighboring nations to begin with. Even if a quiet, do-nothing Emperor had sat at the top, relations would have been awkward at best — so with a viciously abusive Emperor on the throne instead, it was only natural that cursing the Empire and its Emperor became standard tavern fare. But then the Emperor died. And in the most absurd way at that — beheaded in the middle of a court council, right in front of everyone. Everyone mocked Mihail, and mocked the Empire itself as well. After all, didn't the fact that nobody could stop a mere idiot Imperial Prince from openly cutting off a head mean that every guard and official present was a complete idiot too? Many people were saying the Empire would soon fall, and some among them voiced even more aggressive opinions. "Is there any reason to wait around for it to fall? Let's just smash it ourselves!" "Yeah!! Let's give the people of that pitiable land freedom and equality too!" "Long live the revolution!! Long live the republic!! Death to all blue bloods!!" It was already a time when the Republic's stock was rising and it was setting off a great blaze across the continent. Royal families and monarchies alike felt like relics of an old era that ought to vanish entirely, and the Eizern Empire was the final boss of them all. People declaring that they should snuff out the incompetent Empire's last breath right away and plant the flag of revolution in its place could easily be found, whether in the streets or in taverns. Whether the people of the Empire had actually asked for any of this wasn't particularly important. Anyone who understood the value of freedom and equality would naturally agree without needing to be told, and anyone who didn't agree was clearly just an ignorant reactionary accustomed to living like a pig — so of course they had to be "enlightened." Meanwhile, as for how the Premier reacted upon encountering this public sentiment — "Hm. So what exactly is this?" "Yes! It's Operation Pickaxe! The objective is to strike the Empire's key strongholds the way a pickaxe strikes, then secure their surrender within six weeks—" "Whoever drew up this operation and everyone who signed off on it all the way up to here — heads on the ground, now." The Premier let out a deep sigh. He turned away from the subordinates silently prostrating themselves and asked the others. "Does the Empire look like a bunch of idiots to you too?" The general known as the Premier's left arm, for his usual extreme tactics and reckless valor, answered. "Idiots, sure. But a filthy huge pile of idiots. Enough that your stomach would burst if you swallowed it whole. But if you chew it properly, it'll be just as tasty." The general known as the Premier's right arm, for his usual strict military discipline and calm strategy and tactics, answered. "They say the imperial household is in chaos, but it still holds vast wealth, population, and resources within it, and many 6th Ranks born from those. It isn't an enemy we can afford to go up against carelessly or arrogantly." "So what if there's a 6th Rank. That mage they called the human national treasure of Ravelocia Kingdom or whatever still died once we ran a proper hunt-down on her, didn't she?" (E/N: Oh no) "Do you have any idea how many soldiers it took just for that one hunt-down?" "Even so, most of them were only there to check her or hold the defense, so barely any of them actually died!" "That's naturally the case, since the operation was designed that way. But the Empire has multiple 6th Ranks, and if they even coordinate with one another, that power is nothing to take lightly." "Coordinate all they like, there aren't even ten of them to begin with." "Is that why we got wrecked by Balduer von Lairenol?" "How long ago was that, why are you bringing it up now! And besides, that guy got exiled anyway!!" "What kind of exile is it when it's right near the border? It's just a guard dog kept on a loosened leash, told to watch the border if things go wrong. And now that the Emperor has changed, there's a good chance even that exile gets lifted." "Both of you, enough." When the Premier waved a hand, the generals, who had been going back and forth in what could've been a debate or a comedy routine, snapped their mouths shut at once. After a moment lost in thought, the Premier asked. "So, do you think we should strike the Empire?" The generals' gazes passed back and forth between each other. They spoke while cautiously reading the Premier's mood. "Could it be that Your Excellency is reluctant about a war with the Empire?" "I'm still weighing it." "Your Excellency. The fervor of the revolution is hotter now than ever before. So is the public sentiment that looks down on the Empire. And given that these past few years have been spent purely on selecting and training soldiers while catching our breath, we're overflowing with strength in terms of national power as well." "So you're saying that if I don't give that overflowing power somewhere to swing, the discontent will turn toward me instead." "...If I'm to be honest, yes, that's right." "Even among your subordinates, plenty of them are itching to rack up accomplishments and grab money and honor under the banner of a 'final war against the wicked autocracy' or whatever. If we tell them to just stop without a convincing reason, there will definitely be grumbling." "Not everyone is just chasing personal gain. There are plenty who are purely devoted to the value of the revolution, burning with a sense of mission to liberate every nation on the continent." In truth, they found it hard to understand the Premier's attitude. To call the Premier someone who normally held back on military action would be a stretch, since honestly, he was often the one who fought like more of a madman than his own subordinates. If he hadn't been that kind of person to begin with, the Republic wouldn't have gone on winning streak after winning streak like this. After all, had they stuck to conventional military operations, they would have met a perfectly conventional ruin. Perhaps sensing his subordinates' confusion, the Premier eventually let out a single word. "The Emperor." "Sir?" "The newly enthroned Emperor of the Empire worries me. The previous Emperor was the kind of bastard who was admirable in the sense of showing just how low an autocracy could sink, but this new Emperor seems to be exactly the opposite." "Could you be referring to those outlandish rumors?" He had struck down the previous Emperor boldly, head-on, and then single-handedly repelled the furious imperial household's counterattack with nothing but his own knight order. It had taken him a mere month to purge the rotten officials from the previous Emperor's era, bring in new talent, reassign capable people, and see all of it settle in without a hitch. It had likewise taken only a month to wipe out the provincial warlords who had half-escaped the central government's control through decapitation operations, and to refill their positions with people loyal to himself. "According to our analysts' opinion, it's clear the newly enthroned Emperor fabricated these propaganda achievements to shore up his own weak power base. They say it's simply implausible." "Hm. I could do it too, you know?" "...I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" The Premier spoke while idly twirling his own custom-fitted baton. "I said that cutting down an emperor, then handling defense and interception with only a small force afterward, and wiping out provincial warlords in a short span through decapitation operations — those are all things I could do too. Meaning it isn't some outlandish tale at all, but something with real plausibility." At the Premier's words, the belligerent left arm answered as if at a loss. "That's only because Your Excellency is a monster. More importantly, what good does it do to put Your Excellency, who's been tumbled around on the battlefield again and again, on the same level as some young Emperor brat who was cooped up in the palace until he turned twenty?" The right arm, too, answered with a cautious attitude. "More importantly, even if that were truly possible, unlike simply annihilating an enemy, bureaucratic reform or planting new people and establishing a governing system isn't something that's achievable just because one individual is exceptional." Therefore, those supposed great feats of the Emperor's could only be bluster. The subordinates judged the matter in an entirely sensible way. The Premier had arrived, more by intuition than logic, at the conclusion that "that guy really seems like a monster," but no matter how much of a dictator he was over this nation, it was impossible to suppress this enormous fervor of revolution by his will alone. "Right. If we have to start this eventually anyway, it'd be better to start while we're at our strongest and they're at their weakest." Premier Nathan acknowledged Alondre, the Emperor of the Empire. Because he acknowledged him, he wanted to avoid war if at all possible, and if it couldn't be avoided, he thought it had better be now rather than later. After all, the more time a monster like that was given, the stronger the Empire would become. The third month since Alondre's ascension to the throne. The soldiers of the revolution invaded the Empire.