The Imperial Friendly Match (2)
"It's true that Chrome is a commoner. At the same time, however, he is also the hero who saved countless imperial citizens during the recent incident."
Look, if we're tallying up contributions to that incident, I accounted for less than ten percent. Even if Ligret took more than half the credit, the princess herself—who went on a brief rampage at the end—probably accomplished more than I did.
"For such a person to be unfairly framed and briefly arrested is already shameful enough. Yet now you push him again with one-sided prejudice, without even considering the full picture?"
Uh… every word is correct, but I have this nagging feeling that the first person to fall for that prejudice was none other than yourself. Or am I imagining things?
"Besides, this is one of the rooms prepared to welcome guests of the imperial family. In other words, for as long as he stays here, Chrome is also an imperial guest. Right now, you are insulting the imperial family itself."
Well, when people receive too severe a shock, their reason can fly out the window for a moment. Grabbing someone by the collar doesn't quite warrant dragging out charges of insulting the imperial family, does it?
"Southern Army Commander, you are one of the knights who represent this empire. How can your words and actions be so frivolous—"
While the princess calmly and methodically crushed Kalyos Schmidt with her gentle tone, I whispered to the two beside me.
"Was Lady Lyla always like this? I remember her as someone who let most things slide with a generous attitude. You know, that calm-lake sort of feeling."
Or is she laying groundwork to seize the initiative ahead of time? Judging by the way Uncle Schmidt is sweating buckets, it looks pretty effective. Still, squeeze too hard and the backlash later will be no joke.
"Maybe from Her Highness's standards, what just happened doesn't count as 'most things'?" Fiore said with a bright smile.
It was better than the way she'd frozen up during the last terrorist incident, but was it just my imagination that she looked a little too excited?
"Even if a volcano hides beneath the surface, a lake is still a lake," Ligret shrugged.
If the princess is a volcano, what does that make you? A selectively rabid mad dog? The moment her eyes sharpened I immediately dropped the thought. Her intuition was terrifyingly sharp.
After a bit more idle chatter, it seemed the conversation between Princess Lyla and Uncle Schmidt had finally wrapped up.
"Do you understand, Southern Army Commander?"
"…I will keep it firmly in mind."
The tomato-red face he'd worn when he first stormed in had vanished, replaced by a sickly blue. After several buckets of cold water dumped on his heated head, he finally seemed to have returned to his senses. Class society really was terrifying.
To smooth over the awkward atmosphere, I stepped forward.
"Well, now that the misunderstandings seem cleared up, shall we discuss what we actually need to do? Southern Army Commander, you have no intention of forfeiting this match, correct?"
"What kind of nonsense are you—"
A sharp glare.
"…Of course I will give it my all. This friendly match is an unparalleled opportunity for the Southern Army."
Your Highness, could you please stop firing laser beams from your eyes while smiling? The guy standing right next to him is about to wet himself.
"I-I see. That makes sense."
Whether in a fantasy world or the real one, the military ultimately runs on money, and the budget is their lifeline. The Southern Army—already notorious for receiving the cold shoulder, at least by imperial standards; though compared to knight orders from other countries they still ate quite well—had just been handed the chance to snatch the rice bowl of the Central Army, who ate with golden spoons and picked their teeth with golden toothpicks.
It would be strange if their eyes didn't roll at an opportunity like that. The problem, however, was—
"Giving it your all is one thing, but realistically, what are our odds? Let me be clear: this isn't provocation. It's essential information for building an accurate plan. What outsiders see and what the people involved actually feel can be very different."
Kalyos Schmidt frowned at my question, but this time he didn't explode. There was no greater foolishness than stubbornly clinging to pride here only to watch the odds of victory drop even further.
"…First, if we clash head-on as legion versus legion, our odds are low. They have greater numbers, and—though it pains me to admit it—their average skill level is superior."
However, he added,
"If it's a clash between small numbers of true elites, we have every confidence we won't fall behind the Central Army. From the start, the skill gap between myself and the current Central Army Commander isn't that large, and the same goes for our adjutants."
"Huh. So the Central Army Commander isn't necessarily the strongest?"
"Hmph. The position of legion commander isn't obtained through martial prowess alone. Leadership, family background, and the political skill to maintain harmonious relationships are all essential. As the pinnacle of the Central Army stationed in the capital and entangled with every noble house, I doubt he even has time to swing a sword."
In short, the other side's skills had declined because they were too busy playing politics, while the Southern Army had no room for political games and could only focus on training—hence the similar levels.
Why does listening to this make me sad?
If I filtered his words with the understanding that Uncle Schmidt was the Southern Army Commander, it roughly meant the Southern Army's top elites sat around 8–9 while the Central Army's sat at 9–10. The commanders themselves were probably 11 or 12.
Just going by the numbers, it wasn't a completely hopeless situation, but…
Wait.
It seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed. Ligret cut in.
"…Are all legion commanders like that? What about Dietrich?"
"Dietrich?" Uncle Schmidt frowned for a moment, then realized she meant Eastern Army Commander Dietrich von Draug. Instead of relaxing, his face crumpled even further, like a discarded piece of paper.
"…That man is an exception. Do not include him in any standard. It is an insult to the entire military."
Well, if every legion commander was a madman who drew his sword on first meetings simply because the opponent looked interesting, the empire would have collapsed long ago. We might even end up with "Mad Dog Emperor Ligret the First" on the throne… Ouch! My shin!
"…You had another weird thought, didn't you?"
"Can't you stop deciding I'm guilty and beating me first? Don't you know the presumption of innocence?"
"You're Chrome. The charge is already decided."
"……"
While I stood speechless from the shock, Fiore smoothly continued.
"In short, while the ratio of A-rank personnel differs between legions, the difference between average soldiers isn't that overwhelming."
"Correct."
"Then how many A-ranks does the Southern Army have?"
At that moment, Uncle Schmidt clamped his mouth shut. Naturally, all our eyes—mine, Ligret's, Fiore's, and Princess Lyla's—turned to him at once. He looked away and muttered,
"…Eighteen. No… about twenty."
"……And the Central Army?"
"……Three……"
"Three hundred?"
"Three thousand."
I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then turned to the others with a smile.
"Looks like a lost cause. Let's just stick around for a bit and head back. Even if we lose, our achievements in the Mars Duchy won't disappear, right?"
"You were the one who said we needed realistic information for an accurate plan!"
No, this gap was too ridiculous. It wasn't ten times or even a hundred times—it was a hundred and fifty times. And from the way he spoke, even those twenty felt like a generous rounding. What exactly were we supposed to do with this?
Sigh. Thinking about it, this was partly our own fault. I had asked the crown prince for some cover, but the fact that the military had been crushed by academy students wouldn't simply vanish into thin air. Even if the story was suppressed among civilians, it must have damaged their reputation inside the military. The already insufficient manpower would have drained away even faster.
"Hold on, Chrome. A full-scale war would indeed be hopeless, but this friendly match is strictly fifty versus fifty. If we can supplement the remaining thirty, it becomes worth attempting."
Princess Lyla's eyes looked quite desperate as she spoke. Of course—this opportunity was crucial not only for the Southern Army but for her as well. How many chances would she get to legally gather forces within the empire?
"Understood. With the four of us here participating, we still need to fill twenty-six more spots in less than ten days…"
"Ahem, we can dispatch as many personnel as needed from the Southern Army to cover the shortage—"
Shut up, old man. Even after rounding those twenty up or down, make sure the first digit doesn't change.
Fiore said, "Crow and Akasha are both tied down by the aftermath of the previous incident, so they won't be able to join us."
Kalyos Schmidt added, "The same will likely apply to imperial students from the academy. It could cause sparks to fly toward their families."
Princess Lyla continued, "…We can't recruit too aggressively from the Morian Kingdom side either. There's a high chance it would create resentment."
This was impossible for one reason, that was impossible for another. Just what were we supposed to do?
Rabaul, Pino, and Chase could probably be persuaded with a bit of 'financial therapy' and 'true wisdom therapy,' but the numbers were still far too short.
Actually, one idea had occurred to me, but the side effects seemed rather severe.
At that moment, Ligret spoke up.
"…Now that I think about it, on the way here after the arrest order was lifted, I picked up something strange. Wouldn't that one be useful?"
"Picked up? What, a puppy?"
Ligret answered in her usual blunt monotone.
"Joy."