The Affairs of That Galaxy and Its Nations (2)

I kept staring at the still-lengthy national rankings window and tapped the next entry.

"Well… pretty much what I expected."

Loirakan was the textbook fusion of capitalism and democracy. At a glance, they looked like the sort of nation that should constantly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be at odds with a theocratic state like Seveli. Yet in the Galactic League's council chambers and diplomatic arenas, our two countries somehow clicked with uncanny ease.

Even our intelligence agents have always found that one baffling.

Maybe they simply followed the old principle of befriending the distant and striking the near. With three whole nations sitting between Loirakan and our empire, there was never any real reason to fight.

I sorted that thought away and continued tapping through the neighboring powers, taking a little tour of the rankings.

Then I saw the reason listed for Uko'Praknar's drop, and words simply failed me.

Cartography… they're actually enforcing that?

A meme that used to float around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠galleries in my previous life was being applied here with dead seriousness. The feeling it left me with was complicated, to say the least. That complicated feeling vanished the instant I opened the galactic map and looked at their borders.

Aaaagh, my eyes!

The territory looked like some medieval state that was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire. I felt genuine revulsion and slammed the map shut. To cleanse my palate, I opened the most decent-looking nation I could find.

A nation whose hyperlane routes to its neighbors remained intact, connected to more than five other states. They held the sole corridor linking the galactic east and north, and they milked that trade route for every last credit. No jagged edges, no awkward enclaves—easily the most perfect cartographic shape in the entire galaxy. Officially they never stopped boasting about being a free and independent power, but…

Tch. They're just Kerzin's errand boys.

With that thought, I scrolled to the very top of the rankings and selected the entry waiting there.

The Kerzin Federation. Setting aside the two ancient precursor states, they were the galaxy's de facto hegemon. They had turned the tables on Prosnark—those space Nazis who had already wiped out three nations—and crushed them so thoroughly that their power was now known across the stars. Countless states had been reduced to vassals or protectorates under their thumb. It was no exaggeration to say the entire northeastern quadrant of the galaxy was Kerzin territory.

Hell, if you wanted to be completely honest, the whole galaxy was already in Kerzin's pocket. The Rixi Republic right next door to us openly declared itself under Kerzin's wing. The Sir Civic Alliance, that vital link between north and east, served as Kerzin's cash cow and rear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠supply line. Several other nations sat under the same umbrella. And then there was one more piece of pure bullshit.

These Zeltech bastards. Just like Britain tagging along whenever America went to war in my previous life, they had ridden Kerzin's coattails into every conflict and somehow clawed their way into the galaxy's second-strongest power. The real problem was that they had been the first to kneel to Kerzin.

First and second place allying up and locking down the neighborhood? Is this for real?

Even in the game, a setup like that would have me spitting curses. Reality being the same left me with nothing to do but accept it. With those two running the show, the surrounding nations had no choice but to submit to Kerzin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if they wanted to survive.

Even the eastern hegemon—who had been backstabbing civil-war states and gobbling up smaller nations—had been forced to bend the knee. That told you everything.

"Huuuh… this really isn't easy."

I tore my eyes from the rankings window and gazed up at the wide, clear sky, sinking into thought.

The main quest's objective is victory. How the hell am I supposed to pull that off?

I still didn't know what the reward was, but failure meant game over. For the sake of clearing that quest—and for the empire and Artraia I had grown attached to over the last ten years—I had to lead Seveli to final victory. The current situation, however, was far from ideal.

Invading neighbors through war? Bad idea.

The empire's military strength was formidable, but the recent chain of economic and political shocks had left it thoroughly withdrawn. We didn't even have a proper casus belli.

Kar-Du? We've been stuck together so long that public opinion would never accept a war.

I ran through the other neighbors one by one, but every option only made me shake my head.

Zutrak is roughly our equal. Forcing it with pure military power would be rough.

Even so, I started sketching out plans of my own.

If we did go to war, maybe we could use that exclave inside Rixi territory the way East Prussia was used back on Earth…

Manufacture a diplomatic crisis, sour relations with Rixi, that sort of thing. But the more I expanded the idea, the clearer it became that it was meaningless.

Ah, right. Rixi is under Kerzin. That's a problem.

No matter how clean the casus belli, the moment Rixi was invaded, Kerzin's invincible fleets would come screaming in. And that wasn't even the end of the headaches.

Kar-Du has completely sealed their borders to foreign combat fleets ever since the last war…

They were weak in pure combat power, yet diplomatically they were friendly enough that we couldn't just steamroll them. The frustration was almost physical.

I kept spinning sub-plans in my head, building them up and tearing them down, over and over. After a long stretch of that useless cycle, I finally decided to stop thinking altogether.

"Screw it! I'm done! Done!"

I had received an officially stamped imperial vacation and come all the way to the empire's finest resort planet, only to sit here drafting future strategies?

I am never becoming a workaholic, gyaaaaah!

Accepting that future was too horrifying to contemplate. Besides, I was still a fresh, green twenty-nine—Sevelian average lifespan was two hundred, so by Earth standards I was basically nineteen. I had plenty of time left!

Yeah. Right now I should just enjoy myself, empty my brain, and soak up the good life!

The moment that thought landed, I shot upright from where I had been lying.

"The ocean!!!"

International convention usually reserved that kind of line for bright, sparkling beautiful girls rather than a sturdy guy like me. Unfortunately, the only female-shaped existence present was…

"Krrrrrrgh!!!"

…a scrawny, tiny Riel currently locked in a life-or-death struggle with a kraken that had risen from the seabed, seaweed and all wrapped around her. So the convention didn't really apply.

But who cared? This was the moment to cool down a body and brain overheated from galactic-scale planning and geopolitical analysis.

"Ocean! I have returned!"

Trusting the body I had rather proudly kept in shape, I charged straight into the water—

And a short while later…

"Minister, why did you go in without even warming up?"

"Puuuuuh…"

I paid the full, bone-deep price for starting a swim after so long without any preparation.

"If I hadn't been here, you would've just died, you know?"

"…"

"That would've been one hell of a special report. Nobody would ever guess the Minister drowned because he skipped his warm-up."

"…"

"Executive Minister, Arto Virtorius, Duke of Seveli, murdered while on vacation at a resort… perfect headline, right?"

"…"

"Then Her Majesty the Empress would be aaaaabsolutely furious, start hunting for an assassin who doesn't exist, and end up suspecting Prosnark—who she already doesn't get along with."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"Mm-hm, that's right. You were wrong. You almost wiped out the Minister's grand design before it even started, you know?"

For once I couldn't muster a single comeback against Riel's relentless sniping. Only after I made a steel-clad promise never to pull the same stunt again did I finally escape the lecture…

…Come to think of it, I never checked on Prosnark.

Riel's words made me realize I had completely skipped the most important players of all.

"Hmm… national rankings."

I opened the window and was just about to start thinking about them when—

An ear-splitting, razor-sharp alarm blared from the terminal I had left on the parasol table.

"What the hell is it?!"

I scrambled over to the parasol and checked the device. The information on the screen, and the event message that immediately floated into view, made me doubt my own eyes.

"…You've got to be kidding me."

Then another emergency message arrived, and my legs finally gave out completely.

"Ah, no, fuck!!!"

And so I had no choice but to hurl a scream that no one would hear, sending it far and wide into the clear, pure sky of the resort planet.