Gilliman Crucio's Masterstroke
Gilliman Crucio was a far more brilliant strategist than I'd imagined. It might be temporary, but what he was pulling off right now transcended his innate talents by leaps and bounds. True to his royal bloodline, Gilliman had several trusted retainers at his side. They were all capable men, which was exactly why he'd managed to escape the crumbling Crucio Principality alive.
Gilliman was making the most of them. He fed just enough of the alliance army's strategies and tactics to the Concart side, while sussing out Concart's plans and inflicting maximum damage in return. Anyone could see what he was aiming for: mutual destruction between the two forces.
Gilliman could have simply steered the alliance army straight in and claimed lordship over Crucio Principality. It was an easy path to kingship, but that's not what he wanted. Rather than become a puppet king with an uncertain lifespan, he craved the real deal.
His schemes fell into place with eerie precision. Concart and the alliance traded blows in a relentless war of attrition, neither gaining the upper hand. Meanwhile, the newly minted Nebra Duchy—having wrapped up its founding ceremonies and reorganized its forces—declared war on the Kingdom of Hursia without delay.
The Hursians decried it as unprovoked aggression from a powerful neighbor lacking any justification, but Empress Consort Shartia countered with the fact that Hursia, their erstwhile ally, had abandoned Nebra Kingdom in its hour of need. Truth be told, they didn't need much of a pretext. These were nations torn by civil wars under the banner of rebuilding Neos Kingdom; justifications mattered less than raw power, which was the true law.
As Nebra's armies marched into Hursia, the kingdom promptly sent envoys suing for surrender. Their terms, as always: guarantees for the royal family and key nobles. Tedious negotiations dragged on between the bureaucrats.
Shartia threw herself into every meeting with fervor. The eventual agreement allowed the royals and nobles to depart for a third country, taking only their personal wealth—no plundering permitted. It seemed generous at first glance, but therein lay the trap.
Nebra's forces entered Hursia bloodlessly, and the royal exodus began. Royals and nobles packed up their treasures and scattered to their preferred destinations. But few vassals followed. Who would serve knights or officials who fled their nation without a single fight?
Shartia swiftly entered the Hursian palace and decreed that all uncorrupted officials would be retained and promoted. She also visited each knightly order personally, winning their hearts. Her skills were exceptional, and she looked every inch the born warrior.
Most of the exiled Hursian royals and nobles didn't fare as they'd hoped. Laden with riches but stripped of protectors, they were little more than tempting prey. Ruin awaited them in their scattered havens.
While Nebra pressured Hursia into submission, the witches' Saiton Kingdom in the west crowned a new king and launched an assault on Baraha Kingdom. With incompetent nobles purged en masse, Saiton's command structure had improved dramatically. They maximized their witches' tactics, racking up victories and shattering Baraha's armies.
Yet witch magic favored sustained debuffs over one-shot destruction spells, so their advance was steady rather than swift. Baraha withered like a drought-stricken tree.
As I watched these wars resolve themselves without my intervention, a summons from the emperor arrived. It felt like he was calling on a recluse who'd sworn off politics a bit too often, but what could I do? If he felt hard done by, he should've become emperor himself. Not that I'd ever take on such a hassle.
Audience granted in the palace, I found the emperor's expression clouded. By my reckoning, there weren't any pressing issues.
"What troubles Your Majesty this time?"
"I seem to bring only bad news to you, always."
"Speak freely; pay it no mind."
William pointed to the continent map spread on the table—a detailed chart of the western continent. Useless to me, but a veritable treasure for others. Wooden markers showed Nebra's front lines, along with various annotations.
The wars posed no real worry. With just Argin, unifying all of old Neos Kingdom's territory would be straightforward. But Shartia and I had already settled on dividing it into three.
Nebra Duchy, the witches' Saiton, and alliance-backed Crucio. Crucio's fate hinged on Gilliman's ongoing ploys, but the others were effectively done fighting.
"Given the neighbors' watchful eyes, we may have to cede Concart at least."
"I'd go further—hand over Buquette beside it."
"Why so?"
"What's west of Buquette Kingdom's territory?"
"Dragon Mountains?"
Exactly. Buquette's western border once abutted the Ktolari lands, shielded by Kutula's power against beasts from the Dragon Mountains. But Kutula and Count Ktolari were gone now, and their ranger unit had become the Red Eyes mercenaries, abandoning the post.
A single mass breakout from the mountains would spell disaster. No territory was worth that risk.
"My intel suggests unusual activity deep within the Dragon Mountains."
"Indeed. That changes things."
"You can't hold back a Dragon Mountains exodus with ordinary forces. Even Argin couldn't manage it alone."
The emperor pondered the map. Emperors weren't cut out for loafing around like me, that much was clear.
"So, to what extent would you limit our gains, Viscount?"
"Baraha's on the verge of falling to Saiton. Concart needs watching, but a prolonged war favors the alliance. Cede Buquette too, and you're left with just Jarman Kingdom—a real pickle. Too valuable to ignore, too costly to seize."
Jarman's position was exquisitely awkward—sandwiched between three powers, with barren lands offering scant profit.
"We can leave it be for now. Saiton and the alliance lack the spare forces to push that far."
William nodded in understanding.
"That aside, the real issue is Sir Argin."
"A problem?"
"As I mentioned before, I intend to grant him a duchy."
"Do as Your Majesty wills."
I'd congratulate Argin on leaving my service. A title and lands wouldn't turn him traitor.
"Selecting suitable territory for him has proven... challenging."
William showed a list of available domains for Argin. The developed ones were too small; the rest, remote wastelands. Handing Argin scraps clearly gnawed at him.
But I spotted prime real estate overlooked.
"Bestow the western coast here on Argin."
"Isn't that too remote? Barren wasteland. Unfit for an imperial duke."
It was, for now. But with airships soon finished and New Continent trade booming? In a few years, it'd rival Akasha Territory as a booming metropolis.
"Trust me. It'll develop massively soon enough. And Argin's never lusted after wealth. He'd likely balk at prime capital-adjacent lands as too burdensome."
"Talking with you clears all my worries, Viscount."
No, let's not make this a habit.
Back in Akasha Territory, Bastet lounged on the office windowsill after a long absence.
"Where've you been?"
No reply, as usual. Just a lazy tail swish.
She'd vanished from my senses entirely, like she'd slipped from this world—probably off on some divine errand.
Bastet reminded me of the Full Fish. Antariel and Ben were still researching its guts and bones; the dwarf elder nearly done with scale-crafted jewelry. Setas's airship was taking shape as a massive hull.
Everything hummed along without me. Sipping tea, I watched—until a head popped from across the table.
[Hey there?]
A snake. I glanced at Bastet, but she ignored it.
[Bastet can't see me either.]
Mind-reader too? I couldn't chomp it raw like Howard, but snake liquor tempted.
[Changed your mind? Let's fetch that fruit~]
I shook my head and drew my sword from subspace, severing its neck.
The head bounced on the table, glaring venomously.
[You'll regret this.]
Then it dissolved.
Howard must've gotten nothing because of tricks like that. Snake liquor could wait.
[What was that?]
Bastet turned to me.
"Nothing."
Right. As she'd said last time, it was nothing.
[Ignore trifles.]
Did that cat goddess truly not see it? Was it really nothing? No—if Bastet said ignore it, I would.
Days later, our chat must've reached Shartia; Nebra officially halted expansion. She'd already claimed more than her forces warranted. Time to consolidate.
Ether Empire aside, her direct administrators were mostly my sends. Ben Bezarel's modified humans had returned, but her guard numbered just thirty. The rest were surrendered locals from war-ravaged, impoverished lands.
Saiton finally devoured Baraha. The young king—too gentle for the crown—was aided by Nivea and the queen consort, earning the slur of "skirt-puppet." Time would fix that.
Nivea and the witches received formal merits and lands, though hers was a mere barony despite her feats. They rejoiced anyway—finally accepted in the world, no more hiding or finger-pointing. They'd carved their home themselves.
I applauded their achievements from afar.
The alliance-Concart war ended with the alliance destroying Concart Kingdom—but at great cost. Their four Masters saw three perish in mutual kills with Concart's pair. Original forces dwindled below ten thousand. And during occupation, Gilliman Crucio vanished.
But it was another ruse. Gilliman reemerged in the old Crucio capital—now Concart soil—sparking rebellion.
He'd bet big on Crucio's hidden treasures, a long-laid plan. Nearly the entire Sword Mountain mercenary band under Jacques was hired by him—half the trove upon successful rebuild.
I'd pulled strings too: located the stash, appraised it for Jacques. Irresistible sum.
Sword Mountain's partner? Red Eyes, ex-rangers from Ktolari lands. The mercenaries smashed into the alliance holding the capital. Red Eyes crippled the sole surviving Master with anti-behemoth tactics.
Masterless, the alliance crumbled without a fight, retreating in near-total rout.
Thus, Gilliman Crucio rebuilt Crucio Kingdom.
But a twist: surviving Jarman Kingdom struck Buquette instead.
Reason? Jarman's forces had surged, thanks to a new awakener blessed by another god's power.