A Marriage Forged in Vengeance
“I'd like to hear more details about that.”
I gave William a suitably edited account of Princess Shartia, the last survivor of the Nebra Kingdom now residing in Akasha Territory. I had my own plans in mind, so there was no need to mention Ben Bezarel just yet.
“What will you do?”
“It's a fine opportunity. A fine one, but isn't something still missing?”
Simply having Princess Shartia here wasn't enough justification on its own.
“How about this? Get married again.”
William frowned the moment he heard it.
“You've never married once, yet you're telling me to do it three times.”
“Well, hmm! Isn't this a matter of national importance?”
There really wasn't much excuse for it.
“More importantly, will the empresses allow it?”
His current empresses didn't meddle in politics despite their families' influence, nor did they engage in the petty intrigues and jealousies common in the palace. But that delicate balance was precisely what made it possible, and William wasn't free from considering their feelings.
“I'll handle that.”
Who else could sort this out but me? At least I was on good terms with all the empresses.
I requested audiences with them and gathered them together to explain the situation, then negotiated.
“Even if it's a marriage, Princess Shartia won't be sharing His Majesty's bed or anything like that. And she'll be leaving for the front immediately after.”
The empresses weren't involved in politics, but they were both shrewd women who understood the circumstances perfectly.
“Still, we should meet her first.”
That was Hilda's demand—a reasonable one for the principal wife. No matter how nominal a political marriage it was, politics could flip at any moment, and so could relationships between men and women.
I accepted Hilda's request. Refusing it was impossible anyway.
I returned to the territory right away and met with Princess Shartia. She was still diligently honing her skills as Jayke's disciple. Her knights under her command had been highly skilled to begin with, so they quickly graduated from the mercenary school and were gaining experience by taking on local commissions they could handle nearby.
“How's the training going?”
“Thanks to your consideration, I'm receiving a favor I may never be able to repay.”
“Let's repay a bit of that favor now.”
“Pardon?”
It was an odd way to put it. In truth, this was an opportunity for Princess Shartia too—one that might never come again.
“The Ether Empire is planning to strike several of the seven factions that splintered from the Neos Kingdom. But they're short on justification. So I informed His Majesty that you're here in my territory.”
Princess Shartia seemed to be thinking hard as she listened to the explanation.
“May I have Sir Mallus join us for this?”
“Of course.”
It was a fine quality in a ruler to seek counsel from capable retainers when unsure.
Mallus arrived at Shartia's summons, and the discussion resumed.
“So, to clarify: the Ether Empire wants to claim part of the Neos Kingdom's territory and is asking Princess Shartia to marry Emperor William to provide the pretext?”
“That's right.”
Mallus clearly didn't like the proposal.
“In truth, His Majesty doesn't particularly desire Neos territory or war itself. But the hawk faction's voice has grown too loud to ignore completely. So he's considering a formal marriage between himself and Princess Shartia, using the restoration of the Nebra royal line as the excuse for intervention.”
The basic plan was mostly my idea, of course.
Mallus was still frowning. No matter how displeased he was, he shouldn't show it so openly in front of the negotiation partner.
“Then what do we gain?”
Loyal, but not particularly capable as a retainer. When told it's a bean cake, he hears it as corn cake?
“Revenge.”
Just one word. But was there sweeter bait than that?
Flames ignited in Princess Shartia's eyes.
“You mean to destroy the Kingdom of Barriantus that annihilated Nebra?”
“If Princess Shartia accepts this proposal, yes.”
It would be hard to refuse. Even with her outstanding talent, reaching the Master rank and building enough power for revenge on her own—how many years would that take? Ten? Twenty? And there were no guarantees of success. Even the quickest path was twenty years—a lifetime for an ordinary human. And by then, her target might have vanished.
“And the Nebra Kingdom will be restored. As a duchy, of course. Princess Shartia will become its ruler.”
In truth, I'd never even considered that she might refuse. That's why I'd proceeded with matters in the capital without her prior consent.
“I'll do it.”
“Princess, this is a grave matter. Please consider it more carefully.”
Princess Shartia had made her decision. Mallus still seemed uncertain, but with her resolve firm, it was irreversible.
With Princess Shartia's approval, preparations began for the trip to the capital. There was more to do than expected. From her clothing to entirely new armor for her knights under her command.
Akasha Territory already had excellent tailors, so clothing was no issue. The armor was commissioned to the dwarves of the New Continent. All to ensure no one dared look down on her as a princess of a fallen kingdom.
Her nominal guardian was me, so few would underestimate her outright. But shabby appearances could still plant such thoughts.
Princess Shartia stood proudly before the empresses. Her imposing stature—taller and bulkier than most men—overawed them somewhat.
While Princess Shartia spent a long time talking with the two empresses, I shared a casual drink with the emperor.
“The princess has quite the presence.”
“Yes, and excellent talent too. She'll reach Master before thirty, I wager.”
“Hoho, that's heaven-sent genius.”
There were already plenty of true heaven-sent monsters around, but a woman achieving Master rank in her twenties would likely be the first. It was worthy of the praise.
“I'll send Argin Tempest along this time.”
William's eyes widened. A Grand Master was a strategic weapon capable of turning the tide of war. With Argin there, defeat was unthinkable.
“Is that alright?”
He was considering my position as his saintly mentor or whatever.
“Sure. I'm not going myself, and I can't keep Argin under me forever.”
Jayke wouldn't go even if I ordered him, but Argin was different. Still young with brilliant talent, I couldn't let him rot as a mere baronet without lands in Akasha Territory.
“Sir Argin's participation is worth ten thousand troops, but that brings its own problems.”
William rubbed his temples as if it gave him a headache.
“Why's that?”
“It's a given he'll earn merits, and given his skill, he'll need a duchy at minimum. I wonder if there's suitable land to grant.”
Ah, so Argin's title would surpass mine soon? It didn't matter, but it felt oddly strange.
“He won't have much greed for territory.”
I said that, but I'd still make sure he got the best available land later. Good is good, after all.
The meeting between the empresses and Princess Shartia dragged on longer than expected. Far longer. They even stayed a day each in the empresses' palaces, taking two full days. I hadn't sent a clone on purpose, but peeking later, they were already thick as thieves, plotting like conspirators. Joking about things near treason, like beating William if they ever quarreled as a couple.
William wasn't weak, but one hit from Princess Shartia would kill him. That'd be emperor assassination, you harpies.
This time too, William and Princess Shartia's wedding was little more than a formality. Such was his fate, it seemed.
Without even a wedding night, Princess Shartia was immediately granted the rank of duchess in the Ether Empire. And as if waiting, the expedition schedule was set.
Nominally, Empress Shartia became the supreme commander. Argin and Mallus were appointed as her adjutants.
Fine for the commander, but the unfamiliar choices for actual field command went unquestioned by nobles or military brass. Many nobles held back out of deference to me, while high-ranking officers who knew Argin's prowess naturally kept silent.
Three of the Ether Empire's seven swords—the symbols of its military might—joined the campaign. All Masters, but after sparring once with Argin, they were in absolute obedience.
Thus, an army of ten thousand marched south, proclaiming the revival of the Nebra Kingdom.
From the empire's perspective, ten thousand was a small force. But considering who led them, it was substantial. Those ten thousand were essentially for maintaining order in conquered lands.
The thirty knights from Nebra, formally appointed as Empress Shartia's personal guard, trained relentlessly even on the march. Their current number was precisely thirty-two. No one in the guard knew the true identities of the two extras. They just accepted them as talents handpicked by the empress herself.
But their skills were on a level beyond the others' imagination, spurring even fiercer training to hold their positions.
After two months of marching, the Ether Empire forces finally arrived near the border. The movement was already widely known to the successor states of old Neos and neighboring nations, putting them all on high alert.
Neighboring countries unleashed fierce denunciations of the Ether Empire's actions, but the empire countered by parading Empress Shartia as its justification.
Late to the game, several nations trotted out supposed heirs to fallen Neos states. Most were fakes; only one was genuine. Naturally, I was the one who exposed the frauds to the world.
I'd said I wouldn't participate directly in the war, not that I wouldn't work behind the scenes. And a larger picture was falling into place.
I was meeting Nivea, the leader of the Western Witches who'd headed toward Neos as planned.
She'd led her witches there seeking a nation that would value them. Most turned them away; some even attacked. As expected. No sensible person welcomes witches warmly.
But the Kingdom of Saiton took them in. Simple reason: Saiton was cornered and desperate for any help.
The Western Witches on the battlefield displayed their formidable powers without restraint. Great Witch Nivea's curses were terror incarnate to enemy troops.
“I'm glad to see you're doing well.”
“Thank you.”
I'd expected the witches to shine, but the Western Witches exceeded my predictions by far. It wasn't just raw power. Their bond, tighter than blood brothers, left no gaps in their combined techniques, and all were utterly devoted.
The witches were desperate. Not one among them didn't yearn for a land where their kind could live in peace.
Fighting with such spirit, it was only natural they'd surpass their usual strength.
“The reason I came is to make a proposal.”
“You mean the Ether Empire forces?”
With the imperial army at the border, of course she'd heard.
“Exactly. The Ether Empire doesn't aim to take all of Neos territory. Quite the opposite—they want the war over quickly.”
“You're suggesting an alliance?”
“Yes, an informal one.”
“We have nothing to lose.”
“Of course, no losses on either side.”
A diplomacy where everyone wins. What happened after the war ended was another matter, but for now.
Nivea and I exchanged strategies. She'd focus solely on the Kingdom of Baraha, Saiton's old nemesis, while the southward Ether Empire targeted Barriantus. They'd fight back-to-back.
As we talked, I observed Nivea. Because of a recent story I'd heard.
Eltis had taken an assassination commission that passed through Saiton, and he'd checked on Nivea at my request. His conclusion: not a drop of succubus blood in her. Nor any other ancient lineage.
So why did she keep triggering this reaction in me? No idea.
In any case, the full details of our secret pact went to Argin.
A few days later, the horns signaling the Ether Empire's advance finally blared.