Aftermath (1)

Everything had unfolded exactly as I predicted, and public opinion across the Empire flipped in the blink of an eye.

"Good heavens, so the Minister who everyone said had gone senile was right all along."

"Tell me about it. The minds of those high-and-mighty types never cease to amaze."

That was the serf-class commoners who had spent their entire lives tilling fields. Then there were the merchants and bourgeois who hopped from planet to planet.

"See? Didn't I tell you the Minister's opinion was correct?!"

"Ahem…"

And finally the nobles, who for some reason kept digging themselves deeper into ever more shameless brain-rot.

"I believed in the Minister's wisdom from the very beginning."

"Don't you dare believe that fellow's lies!"

"I've trusted you since before you were even born, my boy."

Watching the same people who had torn me to shreds now fawning over me left me with a thoroughly complicated feeling.

"That's enough. Go do your jobs."

"Ahem…"

"Th-then I'll just leave this here and be on my way."

And in an Empire that had outlawed bribery, they still had the gall to leave baskets of apples behind as "apologies."

"…Everyone seems to have far too much free time."

One side of the office was already buried under truckloads of apple boxes and baskets left by previous visitors, yet they kept adding more.

"Riel, how are we supposed to deal with all of this?"

Hearing the hollow note in my voice, Riel picked up the latest basket abandoned by some nameless baron and carried it off to the storeroom.

"Hmm… if we just leave them, they'll rot and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠give the Minister a whole new body odor…"

"That's not what I meant."

"Ah."

Only then did she grasp my meaning. She nodded and answered,

"Beats me. Why not just handle it the usual way?"

"What?"

I stared at her, momentarily baffled. How could she sound so casual after seeing that mountain of fruit?

"Riel, you… don't tell me—"

I started to lift my terminal, but she fixed me with an unmistakably robotic expression.

"I'm saying that because the Anti-Bribery Act means there's nothing but actual apples inside."

"Got it. Sorry."

Faced with a Riel who had dropped the act and gone completely serious, I hastily apologized.

After mobilizing Riel and the staff to distribute apples throughout the entire Executive Ministry—and giving the office a thorough cleaning while we were at it—we settled into the newly tidy study to discuss the recent crisis over tea.

"By the way, how should I put this… lately there's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠serious talk inside the Empire about elevating the Minister to sainthood."

"Pfft—!"

The conversation opened with something so heavy I sprayed my tea straight across Riel's face.

"…"

"Cough, cough!"

"…We'll save that topic for later."

"S-sorry."

I hurriedly wiped her clean with my handkerchief, and only then could we begin a proper discussion.

"Anyway, to be frank, once Prosnark won exactly as the Minister said they would, people started calling you a prophet."

"A prophet, huh…"

Her words reminded me that this world I had transmigrated into actually had psychics.

"If only that were true."

"Right?"

Public opinion had settled on the idea that I must be one of those—psionics, as they were called here. Living up to that expectation, however, was completely impossible.

If I truly were a psionic, the race field would have long since displayed "Sevelian (Psionic)" in parentheses. The fact that it still didn't confirmed my earlier assessment.

Of course, obtaining a psionic title wasn't theoretically impossible… but the chance to "Ascend" would never come in my lifetime, so the whole idea was meaningless.

I must have sunk too deep into thought without even hitting pause, because Riel's voice pulled me back.

"Minister?"

I scrambled to change the subject.

"Ah, right… anything else?"

"Plenty. For example, people saying that if you'd just agreed to a four-to-one fight from the start, we would've won."

"Aigoo."

I had explained, starting from the imperial council all the way through the televised debate broadcast empire-wide, exactly why that was impossible. Yet cosmic parrots kept repeating the same nonsense, and my temples began to throb.

How the hell am I supposed to deal with these people?

Managing factions and reputation had been a headache even in third-person strategy mode. Doing it one interaction at a time in first person was pure rage fuel.

Fortunately the irritation didn't last long.

—Ding♪

The familiar chime from my terminal made me check the screen automatically.

"…Heh."

The event result melted away the anger that had been needling me.

This is more like it.

I would never know which bastard had thrown that carton of fresh milk at me, but getting this close was still something.

"Looks like something good happened?"

"Yeah. The Purge Squad just closed another case."

With a measure of peace restored, I sank into the backrest of my private sofa. Riel regarded me with an unreadable look.

"So, Minister, what do you think happens next?"

"With what?"

"The Prosnark situation, obviously."

Thankfully she wasn't the sort of subordinate who harassed a man trying to rest. I kept my back against the cushions and continued.

"That's not something we need to worry about much."

I laced my fingers, covered my mouth, and propped my chin in "that pose," projecting gravity.

"Of course this is only my prediction, so it's not one hundred percent accurate, but—"

"Spit it out already, Prophet-nim."

"…"

Sensing her visceral rejection of the middle-school-syndrome pose, I dropped it and crossed my arms instead.

"Peace negotiations are still ongoing, right?"

"Yes. Our envoys are mediating, but aligning the parties' positions isn't going smoothly."

"Is that so?"

I got the distinct impression that the Kerzin Federation and their friends still hadn't come to their senses, and pressed on.

"First of all, anyone can see the Kerzin Federation has the most to lose from this war."

"True…?"

"They'll lose not only the old Prosnark sphere but every star system currently under Prosnark control."

"If that happens, the size of Kerzin territory is one thing, but their realm will be split clean in two. Will they really accept that?"

Riel voiced her doubts, but I shook my head firmly.

"And if they don't? The fact that Prosnark is even pretending to listen to us is already a miracle. If Kerzin starts acting rebellious… how do you think Prosnark will respond?"

"Ah."

"If Kerzin has any brains left, they'll consider it a win just to keep their capital region and southern territories."

"But what if Prosnark refuses even that?"

"If they won't guarantee Kerzin even a minimal living space, then it's time for Prosnark to pay the price."

I pulled a sheet of paper from the table and sketched a rough map.

"Of course, with Kerzin's fleet annihilated, there's a non-zero chance Prosnark could grant them living space and then re-invade later…"

I drew a line across the sketch with my pen.

"But during the armistice, the Galactic League will station monitoring teams and fleets along the border to prevent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠renewed war. That shouldn't be a problem."

"Heeh."

Riel nodded, then fired off another question.

"So Kerzin ends up like that… what about the rest?"

At her words I immediately activated pause…

…and only after a very long time did I finally reach a state of mind clear enough to release it.

"Either way, they're in a far better position than the Kerzin Federation."

"Really? I heard the opposition during the talks has been so fierce that noise keeps erupting."

I tapped the paper on the table with a fingertip—after pausing and unpausing again, of course.

"Like I said earlier, what exactly can those guys do about it?"

"Mm… fair point."

As Riel conceded, I drew another line on the sketch.

"Zeltech will lose most of their western systems, but for those merchant types it's still within acceptable losses compared to Kerzin."

"Yeah?"

"They're whining now, but fundamentally every system Zeltech lost was originally Prosnark territory."

"Meaning…?"

"In other words, unlike Kerzin, Zeltech has simply been restored to the status quo."

I paused to drain the glass of water already poured on the table.

"Then what about Zutrakfor?"

"Their situation is a bit different. Unlike Zeltech or Kerzin, they actually managed to reclaim a decent stretch of their border."

"Hmm, but losing the strategic Proton system still has to hurt, right?"

I endured another long—well, short—pause before answering.

"No. Honestly, the Proton system itself isn't that valuable."

"Yeah?"

"At best it had some middling mineral deposits, and those are a dime a dozen."

"Ah."

"And even if they lost Proton, there's still the Pelegorn system right behind it."

As I spoke, a place name from a fantasy novel of my previous life suddenly floated up.

…This is basically Osgiliath, isn't it.

And once that thought took root, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that someday Zutrakfor's capital would end up besieged by Prosnark in a catastrophic disaster of its own.