Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Diplomacy is Also a Means of War (5)
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The long journey finally came to an end.
There were several sweet-and-sour events that could have come straight out of a rom-com anime.
Like when Lina and Monica showed up in bikinis...
Or when they insisted on sharing couple's drinks with me, only to end up drinking them together...
"My energy's all drained."
"What was that, Major?"
"Nothing."
Lina shot me a suspicious look.
She might harbor some suspicions, but there was no hard evidence.
Instead of grilling me, she naturally hooked her arm through mine.
Compared to the first day of the trip, she had become far more aggressive with her physical contact...
"This trip was really wonderful. But going all that way was exhausting. We did rest now and then, though..."
"Yeah?"
"Riding in that carriage for weeks has left my back and butt aching."
Lina arched her back in demonstration, resting a hand on her hip.
Her body tilted forward, swaying just a bit.
"My back hurts too."
"Next time, somewhere closer would be better than far away."
"If it's close, where?"
"The Chaplin family owns a villa near the capital... How about just the two of us going there to fish or hunt?"
In the Empire, hunting and fishing were regarded as exceedingly refined pastimes.
To be precise, the young were expected to hunt on horseback—that was the ideal—while those too old to ride comfortably took up fishing.
In modern society, hunting was something you never even encountered, and fishing ranked as wife's number-one hated hobby...
Monica cut into Lina's words.
"The Chaplin villa sounds nice, but there's a big river near our Religious Corps battalion garrison. I hear the trout there is delicious."
"Trout sounds good too."
"If we hole up alone at the Chaplin villa, rumors will spread across the Empire that we've already crossed the line."
This time, the mission excuse would come out quickly, snuffing any gossip in the bud.
But the two of us alone at the Chaplin villa...?
Of course the rumors would fly.
Lieutenant General Chaplin would grab a shotgun—no, no shotguns here—so an axe, and personally hack off my head.
'Mess around before marriage, and I'll die for real.'
"So come fishing with me instead. I'll cook you Lichten-style trout."
"Isn't Lichten famous for meat dishes?"
"Nomads don't shun fish just because they herd livestock."
Places like Mongolia made it hard to find vegetables beyond potatoes and onions even in big hypermarkets, or so they said.
And they equated shrimp—which we craved endlessly—with cockroaches.
Regions like Lichten, which mixed in some farming, knew how to cook fish just fine.
Monica clamped onto my arm.
Her large, soft breasts enveloped it.
Breasts truly were the truth.
As I glanced down at my arm, Monica lifted one corner of her mouth.
"Next time, definitely just the two of us."
Monica and Lina glared at each other, boring holes through one another.
Sparks seemed to crackle between them.
Up to now, the tourist vibe had let us dodge this situation.
"But I need to report the mission results to the Chief of the General Staff. You two head back on your own." ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The Chief of the General Staff granted me an audience the moment he heard about the secret letter.
The bureaucratic speed was so blistering it was hard to adjust.
"How did it go?"
"They took the bait."
People couldn't resist profit.
Just like enduring a boss's torment late into the night at the office for a paycheck...
Politicians and soldiers alike would ditch family for gain and power.
Let alone oaths or alliances with foreign nations?
As if those mattered.
“Now we can launch a full conquest of the Dolce Republic. Your merit is tremendous.”
"You're too kind."
"If we completely drive a wedge between the Dolce Republic and Marco Kingdom, the continent's nations will struggle to form a coalition against the Empire. Picking them off one by one like this... the Empire can weather this crisis."
"I'll give my all if there's anything I can do."
"We'll need plenty of your help."
"Everything will turn out fine."
I said as much, but things rarely unfolded exactly as desired.
Put a human in mortal peril, and they'd clasp hands with their parents' killer.
During World War II, the US and USSR had teamed up, no less.
Americans even hailed the communist Soviets as comrades in freedom.
Keep expanding the Empire's power, and eventually the whole continent would unite.
All I—no, we—could do was delay that moment as long as possible.
"I believe striking the Marco Kingdom in the Monaco region right after securing northern Dolce Republic would be ideal... Your thoughts?"
Not a bad plan.
Ambushes on a weary foe yielded sure results.
No fighting spirit among the troops, no anticipation of betrayal, no supplies for counterattack.
Still, it fixated on the near tree, blind to the forest.
We couldn't afford tunnel vision on a single trunk.
"The Imperial Army could eject Marco Kingdom from Monaco without issue if we commit fully. But wouldn't prolonging their rift benefit the Empire even more?"
"True—if they link up and charge the Empire, the other neighbors pile on too."
The Prince had a line on this.
'More foolish to rob a vassal's wealth than slay his kin.'
Seemed counterintuitive—surely killing family was worse—but there was logic.
Money could be recouped; the dead stayed gone, eventually fading from mind.
Territory worked the same.
Lost once, it could be reclaimed.
"Later, when the coalition tightens, dangling Monaco's return to Dolce Republic would hit harder."
"Cracks in the alliance."
"If Dolce grabs Monaco and fights us, perfect. If not, mutual distrust festers... Win-win for the Empire either way."
Profit-bound rabble scattered at fresh bait.
Dangle Monaco's return...
Even if Dolce somehow resisted, would the rest trust them?
I sure wouldn't.
"We'll consider it. Anyway, your new post is set."
Religious Corps duties wrapped; transfer time had arrived.
"Deputy commander of the 18th Regiment."
"Me, deputy regimental commander...? Pardon?"
Military discipline meant no backtalk to superiors.
But this was harsh.
I wasn't some has-been spinning wheels in limbo, primed for retirement...
Deputy regimental commander.
'Deputy division, regiment, battalion—all dead-end gigs.'
"As stated. You'll deploy as deputy of the 7th Division's 3rd Regiment."
"......Understood."
"Ah, but that regiment has a quirk."
"What quirk?"
The Chief shrugged with a smirk.
"Its commander got nabbed colluding with Dolce Republic two weeks back. Executed yesterday."
"I see."
"Indeed. 3rd Regiment's leaderless now. No fitting candidate for commander. Get the picture?"
No promotions available for full command.
Steer the commander's corpse-ridden regiment as deputy.
Peacetime temp patch, sure—but 7th Division headed straight for Dolce war...
'Command a whole regiment, they mean.'
My golden shot.
"Thank you, sir."
"Win this war, and we'll promote you properly. Can't overlook the Empire's top contributor."
Hefty bonuses, fat salary, Golden Eagle pension to boot.
Tallied up, I could bail today.
Pension lord in some sleepy village...
'No—higher, keep climbing.'
"And... one thing."
"Yes, sir."
"You're truly not dating Lieutenant Dorthea or Lieutenant Chaplin, right?"
"Just mission escorts."
"Dismissed."
The Chief waved me out.
As the door shut, his voice drifted faintly.
"To Lieutenant General Chaplin, axis..."
What was that?
"Axis" triggered a bad vibe.
Just my imagination.