Black — Aftermath —
In the depths of the imperial palace in the Barhart Empire.
“This is going to become a nuisance.”
That was the Emperor’s curt assessment after hearing the report on the ‘series of events that absolutely had no connection to the academy students or the Eastern Army’ which had unfolded in the Eastern Mountains.
“If it ends at mere nuisance, we should count ourselves lucky.”
At the Chancellor’s rigidly serious expression, the Emperor gave a light shrug.
“Why? Are you worried that several nobles have already pieced together what happened and are whispering among themselves?”
Though its power had diminished greatly compared to the past, the military had once been an organization whose influence stood second only to the imperial family—more precisely, to the Great Emperor. It was only natural for nobles of any real standing to embed their own people within the army, and quite a few had built their power on military achievements. Since the empire itself had been born alongside war, such realities were to be expected.
In a situation like this, even though Dietrich had issued a strict gag order as commander of the Eastern Army, completely sealing the information was impossible. When the imperial palace itself was doing much the same, there was little point in pretending otherwise.
The Chancellor shook his head.
“That itself is not the main issue. Anyone capable of tracking the movements of such a small team would also understand that publicizing this would bring them no benefit.”
No matter how battle-mad and reckless Dietrich was said to be among the corps commanders, he was not the kind of man to unilaterally cross a border and invade enemy territory. Even if he had truly lost his mind and issued such an order, the academy—being a semi-independent institution—would never have simply replied, “Yes, understood.” Any person with a functioning mind would realize that either the Emperor or the Chancellor stood behind the operation and would therefore tread carefully. A few might reach out privately or offer counsel after recognizing how easily this could escalate into war, but that much was manageable.
“The real problem is Ivestan. This incident has confirmed it. They are preparing for war—and in a far more dangerous manner than we anticipated.”
“Hmm. How strange. It’s not as if they’re raising cattle or sheep. Releasing magic beasts into the wild only to retrieve them later—what bizarre behavior.”
The Emperor had already received several reports concerning the new type of magic beasts. Their physical prowess could drive even the elite knights of the Eastern Army—among the highest-ranking combatants in the nation—to the brink of incapacitation in a single strike. Their regenerative ability could shrug off wounds that would normally prove fatal.
“But I still don’t quite see it. Quality may matter in small skirmishes, yet on battlefields where tens of thousands clash, can it truly make that much difference?”
“Your Majesty. Soldiers only display their true worth as an army when they stand under proper command. Without leadership or coordination, they are nothing more than prey or a disorganized rabble.”
Ordo von Devien continued, his expression grave.
“If I possessed the authority to freely command that pack of magic beasts, I would ignore other targets and relentlessly hunt the enemy commanders. Ordinary soldiers incapable of handling magic power would not even serve as obstacles. Even magic users of average skill would fall in moments. Infiltrating the enemy’s rear and waging guerrilla warfare would also prove effective. Since the foes we defeat become sustenance, we could suppress their supply lines to a minimum.”
“Then couldn’t we simply respond in kind with our own outstanding talents?”
“Considering the combat strength of the new magic beasts we have identified so far, it would require three of each army’s finest. For safety, five. And that is only if they can devote themselves solely to confronting the beasts without interference. Furthermore, even if we scoured the entire military, the number of such talents would barely reach ten thousand.”
Some might scoff at making a fuss over merely five hundred out of ten thousand, but when one considered that even a great noble exerting full effort would struggle to gather ten such individuals, the figure was no laughing matter. In an extreme example, that same force could storm the royal palace of Spero and take the king’s head. Given how often the empire had pursued military reductions, ten thousand elite soldiers was not a small number—it was abnormally high.
“Hmm, I see. And toward the end, some that appeared to be one of them showed up, yes? In the end, events are unfolding exactly as Father predicted.”
The Emperor smiled as he spoke. It was difficult to tell whether the expression held admiration or mockery.
“Is he not truly remarkable? Even I, his own flesh and blood, sometimes wonder whether Father is truly human. So it is hardly strange that the people of the empire regard him as a god.”
“…Your Majesty.”
Sensing an inexplicable unease in the Emperor’s subtly altered tone, the Chancellor opened his mouth. Or rather, began to.
“I am rather tired. Handle the remaining matters as you see fit. I leave them in your capable hands.”
Many topics still remained, but no matter how close and informal their lord-vassal relationship, he could not ignore a clear dismissal from his sovereign. As he walked away from the Emperor’s chambers, the Chancellor swallowed a quiet bitterness.
The Emperor had always been difficult to read, yet lately that opacity seemed to be deepening. He did not know the precise reason. He could only guess it was connected to the former Emperor’s steadily worsening condition. Was it so strange for a son witnessing his father approach death to behave differently than usual?
“Oh, what a welcome face. It has been a while, Chancellor.”
At the sudden voice, the Chancellor turned and offered a respectful greeting.
“Subject of the Empire, Ordo von Devien, greets the Fourth Prince.”
Perhaps due to his mother’s strong bloodline, the young man possessed hair closer to deep auburn than the crimson characteristic of the Barhart imperial family. Though he maintained a courteous and friendly demeanor, to the Chancellor’s eyes that smile resembled a snake suppressing its presence while eyeing its prey. One had to account for the Chancellor’s personal dislike of the prince before him, yet the impression he received could not be dismissed as mere prejudice.
The Crown Prince was evaluated as nearly perfect except for lacking talent for magic power. The Second Prince, despite certain personality flaws, possessed unmatched martial talent and enjoyed military support. In contrast, the Fourth Prince—considered the most deficient in ability among them—could compete for one clear reason: his mother was the most favored among the Emperor’s many wives, and he himself excelled at insidious behind-the-scenes maneuvering.
To the Chancellor, who viewed the Crown Prince’s succession as the most stable path in nearly every respect, this was not someone he wished to engage with at length. Especially not when he suspected the Emperor’s failure to clearly designate a successor might stem from that favored wife’s influence.
“It appears you have come from seeing Father. Your constant labors for the empire are truly appreciated.”
“It is merely a subject’s duty. Please refrain from excessive praise.”
“Haha, is that so?”
It would have been ideal if they could simply part ways here, but at that moment the Chancellor’s gaze fell on the man bowing behind the Fourth Prince. Among the many physicians residing in the palace, this was none other than the Emperor’s personal doctor.
“Are you perhaps unwell?”
“Ah, no. I obtained a truly precious elixir this time and attempted to present it to His Majesty the former Emperor, but he kept refusing, claiming he was fine. When I sought Father’s advice, he not only helped persuade him but even attached the imperial physician like this.”
“I see.”
It was not particularly unusual. Tributes offered to the former Emperor from across the continent numbered far more than one or two, and the value of the secret imperial collection of elixirs meant to heal his wounds could easily fund the construction of an entire palace. Of course, few among them produced genuine effects. After abdicating, the former Emperor had stopped accepting such items and had distributed most of his existing medicines to others. Few academy students realized that the food they ate occasionally contained substances more precious than gold of equal weight.
From the Fourth Prince’s perspective, if the elixir proved effective he would earn merit; if not, he would at least cultivate an image of devoted familial effort. Either outcome was beneficial.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Understood. Let us meet again when the opportunity arises.”
After a brief farewell, the Chancellor erased all thoughts of the Fourth Prince and the elixir from his mind. The benefits gained from this infiltration operation, the analysis of the Incense Stone the students had secured, the possibility of similar ‘farming’ operations occurring outside Black Mountain, confirmation of the Ivestan Empire’s reaction, measures against the Moriant royal family that continued to evade responsibility, the search for the fanatics, rewards for those who had distinguished themselves, and countless other minor matters.
He had far too many duties to concern himself with every trivial detail.