The Price of Victory

I frowned as I looked over the confidential report sent from the Grand Duchy.

According to the intelligence gathered before the war, only three thousand troops were supposed to be stationed there. How on earth did a garrison of three thousand swell to fifteen thousand?

A total of 5,106 men were out of action. Out of an initial force of nine thousand, more than half had been rendered combat-ineffective.

Although I had intended to use them as sacrificial pawns, I never anticipated casualties of this magnitude. I had deliberately dispatched a highly capable general and veteran mercenaries. Even the centurions commanding them were seasoned officers who had distinguished themselves since the reign of Valorang. I had taken such care because I wanted to save as many lives as possible, even in defeat.

It seemed... Yohanes was backing them. I had expected him to intervene to some extent, but this was too much.

My head throbbed, and a suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. Before I knew it, I slammed my fist onto the desk.

Thud!

As white-hot anger flared within me, I forced myself to take a deep, shuddering breath.

"Whew..."

I inhaled deeply.

"Haaa..."

I couldn't let anger consume me. The moment I lost my composure, everything would fall apart.

Thud!

It was true that Agrippa and I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had devised this strategy—to sacrifice our flesh to sever their bones. It was the fastest way to end the war. Conducting siege after siege to capture dozens of castles scattered across a vast territory would only result in astronomical casualties and devastating financial ruin.

Our plan was to take a calculated loss using mercenaries and raw recruits, thereby luring the enemy's main force deep into Grand Duchy territory. I had anticipated around two thousand casualties. The actual toll, far exceeding my projections, filled me with a mixture of irritation and rage.

My hands trembled with frustration.

"Calm down. I can't afford to clash with Yohanes right now."

The losses were more than double my estimates, but I had to endure it. I had to endure it for now...

I gritted my teeth, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The Empire was currently like a candle flickering in the wind. I had to manage the risks. I couldn't let a momentary lapse in temper plunge everything into absolute ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chaos. Fighting a war on two fronts was out of the question.

But Yohanes... do not think you will swallow the Emperor's Faction so easily later on.

"Whew... Back to work."

First, a defeat was a defeat. I had to clean up the mess. If anything, I needed to commend General Martin, who had prevented an even greater catastrophe. He had led by example in such a perilous situation, minimizing casualties and successfully repelling the pursuers.

I had to suppress my anger and keep a cool head. There was no time for rage or grief. Even at this very moment, the demon worshipers lurking in the shadows were waiting for an opportunity, and they had to be eliminated as soon as possible. And Yohanes, that bastard, had to die too.

Think positive. Think positive.

I forced my mind to focus on the immediate tasks at hand. A massive windfall of gold would be rolling in soon. Yes... I would focus on that to calm myself down.

As I forced down my anger, the door creaked open.

Creak.

"Dear, I heard a loud noise from out—oh?"

Theodora, who had opened the door and stepped inside, paused and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Are you angry?"

When I shook my head in denial, she quietly closed the door behind her and stepped closer.

"What is it? Did something happen?"

I replied in a cold, dismissive tone. "It's nothing. Go back."

I didn't have the energy to talk to her today. At my words, she stared at my face with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠worried expression for a moment before quietly slipping out of the room.

The financial market of the Empire. In this place where all kinds of stocks, derivatives, and commodities were traded, a massive storm was brewing.

The defeat of the Grand Duchy.

Because of it, the financial markets were thrown into wild turbulence.

Historically, in the long conflict between the Grand Duchy and its opposing faction, the Grand Duchy had never once failed to capture Huntington Fortress. Consequently, the sudden news of their defeat sent shockwaves rippling through the market.

A single defeat. The moment the news broke, everyone scrambled to dump their Grand Duchy bonds.

Then, more news began to trickle in. Rumors spread that the anti-Grand Duchy forces had captured a Grand Duchy fortress, securing a safe supply route. Convinced that an absolute victory was close at hand, investors rushed to buy anti-Grand Duchy bonds. After all, a victory would yield massive rewards and lucrative rights.

At the news that the Pieta Guild was selling call options on anti-Grand Duchy bonds, crowds began to swarm their offices, eager to buy.

"Give me a hundred thousand gold worth of call options!"

"Two hundred thousand for me!"

The call options sold like wildfire. The buying frenzy bordered on absolute madness.

With the price of anti-Grand Duchy bonds skyrocketing, no one else in their right mind was selling call options. Selling them meant that when the options expired, the seller would be forced to deliver the bonds of the highly favored faction at the current, lower strike price. Who would commit such financial suicide?

Furthermore, because the seller received premium payments upfront, they were legally bound to honor the contracts. The Imperial Financial Commission was not incompetent; they monitored the financial health of guilds to regulate the volume of options they could issue. However, because the call options were trading at exponentially higher premiums, the Pieta Guild was permitted to issue even more of them.

Watching the Pieta Guild's incomprehensible behavior, everyone came to the same conclusion: That guild will go bankrupt the moment this war ends.

Following the disastrous defeat, the bond market began to move exactly as I had anticipated. With the Grand Duchy's loss, the price of our bonds melted away like ice cream in the summer heat.

Although this guaranteed I would amass an astronomical fortune, a heavy sense of guilt weighed on my chest. My actions had directly caused the deaths of many. And in the final battle, many more would surely die—whether they belonged to the Grand Duchy or the opposing faction.

Their sacrifice. Who was I to demand such a price from them?

Having lived in the modern world, becoming a member of the ruling class here and sacrificing fellow human beings just to make a profit... I never imagined it would feel this sickening. My heart felt like lead. The men marching to war were someone's fathers, someone's sons. When I thought of the soldiers dying miserably on the battlefield and the families they left behind, a wave of self-loathing washed over me.

I had no idea what I could possibly do for those who would weep over their deaths. Did I even have the right to mourn them in the first place?

A hypocrite who pretended to be noble, pretended to care for the Empire, while driving innocent people who were just trying to live their lives to the battlefield and forcing them to die. Perhaps that was my true nature.

"Deviang?"

Would it have been better to give Agrippa full authority? Perhaps we could have won faster. Or if I had requested aid from my maternal uncle, maybe the enemy would have surrendered from the very beginning. Perhaps this meaningless war could have been avoided entirely?

"Deviang!"

"Whoa! You startled me!"

As I gasped in surprise, Theodora looked at me with deep concern in her eyes.

"Why are you so restless?"

"Well..."

What was I supposed to say? That I had devised a strategy knowing it would cause massive casualties, but now that I saw the actual numbers, the crushing weight of responsibility was suffocating me? I didn't want to voice such foolish thoughts. After all, I would only end up mourning a plan I had created myself, while ultimately continuing to execute it for my own gain.

"No... it's nothing."

Theodora frowned at my dismissive reply.

"It's clearly not nothing. I've never seen you this agitated in my entire life. Are you truly alright?"

She reached out, gently trying to place her hand on my forehead. I flinched away from her touch and replied coldly, "I said I'm fine. Go back to your work."

At my harsh tone, her shoulders trembled slightly.

"Alright... but if you ever feel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like talking... please tell me."

As she quietly turned and left, a wave of regret washed over me. What was I doing? Taking out my own weakness and frustration on innocent Theodora.

But I couldn't afford to be weak. If I showed any vulnerability, someone would surely exploit it. I had to hide my pain.

This was the path I had chosen, and I was the one who had to bear its full weight. Shaking off the heavy thoughts as best as I could, I forced myself back to work.

Lately, his condition had been deeply concerning. He seemed fragile, like a delicate piece of glassware that would shatter at the slightest touch. He was wavering.

What was causing him such pain and making him falter? It was difficult to understand.

His plan was to deliberately lose the initial battles in the Grand Duchy's war and then turn the tables completely in the final showdown. Everything was currently proceeding smoothly according to that very plan.

Yet, seeing him grow increasingly silent, speaking only when absolutely necessary and with visible effort... he reminded her of someone from her childhood memories. Why did his face bear such a striking resemblance to Joy's right before she burst into tears, carrying all the sorrow in the world?

No... that couldn't be it, could it? A man so rational, so cold and calculating when it came to politics, couldn't possibly be feeling that way.

Then what was torturing him so? And why wouldn't he talk to her?

Were they not husband and wife, after all? A married couple was supposed to lean on and support each other in times of hardship.

Indeed, Deviang was the husband who taught her things she didn't know, guided her on what to say and how to behave in front of the ministers, and advised her on which policies were beneficial or detrimental, molding her into a proper ruler.

Though she did not love him yet, he was a pillar of strength she relied on heavily.

He had somehow managed to stabilize this chaotic political landscape, never trampled on her pride, and treated her with the utmost respect in public. Though their marriage lay somewhere between political convenience and plunder, it wasn't bad at all. In fact, many nobles were forced to marry partners old enough to be their parents. Compared to that, being in an arranged marriage with a man who was incredibly handsome, highly capable, kind, and deeply responsible was a blessing.

Of course, he would ruthlessly hit her with hard facts whenever she made a mistake during meetings... but she believed even that was a foundation to help her become a greater ruler in the future.

So... she wished he would lean on her too. She, too, could be his support.

Even if she didn't love him right now, seeing the usually iron-willed Deviang look so vulnerable made her heart ache.

"I don't know what is causing you such pain, but I wish you would lean on me just a little more."

Her quiet whisper drifted away, dissolving into the empty air.