The Grand Banquet (3)
It was right in the thick of banquet preparations. To get a clearer measure of the barbarians' strength, I'd arrived in the north.
"Arbeda, you absolutely do not step in."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Magical beasts and now barbarians too. In the current situation, the north couldn't safely hold off both. Blood was inevitably spilled, and it was on a scale the empire couldn't immediately cover.
If that keeps up, the wounds will reopen, and the northern front will collapse.
That was why I was open to talking with the barbarians if possible. They were trying to cross the northern front for survival. What if the empire guaranteed that survival from the start? Why not accept them as northerners and fill the gaps on the front lines with them?
Couldn't ask for a better solution.
And if I ran into someone truly strong? I had a burning desire to draw out my full power this time. It was like driving an F1 car stuck at just 100 km/h—I wanted to floor it and test the limits.
With those thoughts, I crossed the northern front and kept walking when—
"Halt."
It was at a point where I had no idea how far I'd come. The moment I reached a forest that seemed barely livable for humans, a voice stabbed into my ears telling me to stop.
"I figured barbarians wouldn't even be worth talking to... but you speak a communicable language."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Looking up, I saw a boy with his bowstring drawn taut.
Could the Northern Great Warrior be a younger guy concept? Makes sense for growth potential—he's probably young.
The problem was I hadn't made contact with Mirne yet, so I couldn't identify anyone even if I saw them. The one clue from romance fantasy tropes was appearance, but he looked plain enough—not protagonist material.
"Get out of here now! This is the land of the Agil Tribe!"
"Officially, the undeveloped northern regions belong to the empire too."
"I don't know about that! Leave! No more talk! If you don't go right now, I'll shoot!"
I pondered the boy's words for a moment.
Is it one tribe or many?
If many, then becoming a great warrior meant he'd unified them. That seemed likely. Great warriors usually earned the title through massive feats anyone would recognize. Uniting scattered tribes would qualify him easily.
So if I turned all those tribes into northern imperial citizens? Would the Northern Great Warrior become the Northern Grand Duke?
The sub-protagonist's death flags had to pile up for replacement. I didn't know how many there were, but the system kept their absolute number steady. In a fixed setup like that, could I change the script?
Actually, that's already been proven.
The Eastern Grand Duke lost mana forever, shifting his keywords. He wasn't even Eastern Grand Duke anymore—just former.
In that light, leaving the Northern Great Warrior as is would be a huge loss.
What they do is invade the north, after all.
Better to give them land and have them guard the front. If they're fighting to survive anyway, better against magical beasts than kin.
That was as far as my thoughts went.
"Does the Agil Tribe live around here?"
"I said leave! I'm really shooting now!"
"So you do live nearby."
The moment his hand slipped from the bowstring, I kicked off the ground. No more wasting time on the kid. I spread my senses and shot toward the densest cluster of presences.
"They've at least put up a basic fence to live by."
When I figured I'd gone far enough, a fence came into view, and I chuckled. Too flimsy for a wall—perfectly a fence. Still, it had some system; guards patrolled nearby.
"Who goes there!"
"Wh-what the—!"
"Oh, you can sense me? Decent warriors after all."
"A p-person?!"
"He flew! A man's flying!"
"Invasion! Invasion!"
No need for chit-chat with guards, so I hopped over lightly. Fence, people—ignored them all. My goal was the leadership. Quick talk with those who could decide the tribe's fate.
Why bother telling guards who I am or who I want to see?
Finding them was easy. The flashiest tent. Obvious spot for the chief.
And sure enough.
There it is.
Among yurts evoking Mongolian gers, one ornate tent caught my eye. I landed in front, and immediately—
"For such a noble guest to grace our humble abode... it truly fills me with dread."
A voice responded from inside, as if waiting.
"I know it's rude, but the matter is urgent... forgive my impertinence."
"Haha, how could I not? Sun of the Empire."
The tent flap opened, and an old man emerged. Eyes milky white, but his gaze fixed clearly on me.
"Come in."
"Are you the chief of the Agil Tribe?"
"A flawed man clinging barely to a position of scraped-together wisdom."
True to a chief, conversation flowed fast. I followed him inside. After some time, belatedly—
"Chief!"
"This insolent intruder breached our tribe...!"
Agil warriors burst in, but—
"It's fine, all fine. Go about your duties."
"...B-but."
"If he'd meant harm, he'd have wiped us all out already. Go."
"...."
The chief deftly soothed them with seasoned words.
"Thick trust you have."
"The warriors simply follow this inadequate elder well."
A brief silence. No need for preamble, so I cut straight to it.
"Abandon your homes and become northerners. Live peacefully under the empire's shadow."
"I know you've recently carved out a big chunk of flesh. You need to replenish it."
"How do you know that?"
"My meager talents."
Hah. Hearing that, I briefly considered wiping out all the barbarians. The Agil were pretty far from the front, yet they knew what happened there.
If every tribe has some unique ability, and they all see the empire as the enemy...
Best to uproot them before they grow. But then—
"We'll abandon our homes, so please quell your anger."
The chief seemed to read my mind and added hastily.
"You've lived here long, I hear."
"I just know what must be abandoned to live longer."
"Something to easily convince the other tribes would help."
"Slaying the great beast would be fastest. Truth be told, we'd pack up immediately if you did."
"Great beast?"
The name sounded ominous just hearing it.
"It's started moving lately. Great beasts are... on another level from regular magical beasts in the north."
So, boss monsters roaming the north.
"Whoever slays one becomes a great warrior, recognized by any tribe."
Great beast, great warrior. Now the "Northern Great Warrior" setup clicked.
"Plus, the beasts themselves yield incredibly valuable materials."
The expanded lore painted the future instantly: grown Northern Great Warrior protagonist hunts a great beast, gets a killer weapon, storms the front.
The Northern Great Warrior appears anyway, unless the system says otherwise.
So, trimming their numbers early—smashing a few rungs off the ladder—wasn't bad.
Decision made fast.
Plenty of time till the banquet. Might as well bag as many as I can.
Hunt great beasts, use them as proof to fold all northern tribes into citizens. Bonus: test my power limits while at it.
With those two goals, I moved. And—
"Took longer than expected. Arbeda, can we head straight to the empire?"
"I have fairy dust prepared in advance, but it will take a little time."
"Good. Handle it."
When I came to, it was banquet day.
I did tell Bedin to prep for contingencies like this.
The banquet would proceed smoothly, no hitches. Just me arriving late.
Better that way.
The later I show, the more eyes on me.
Protagonists always make a late entrance, after all.
Grand banquet hall. The crown prince's belated arrival. And dialogue even more shocking than the delay.
I have no idea what he's thinking.
Mirne plunged into confusion the moment she heard it.
Marriage proposal? Calling all the foreign dignitaries to the grand banquet just to propose to the princess of a weak kingdom?
The empire's crown prince to Maselin's crown princess?
Why? Any reason for it? Did I capture his interest? When? When I planted the spirit?
She frantically analyzed the situation. What empire gains came from proposing to her?
Any? Does it even exist?
The Bellos Empire had cut all aid to Maselin recently. Not just aid—all prior trade deals erased.
Diplomatically, the empire had unilaterally severed ties with Maselin. She'd assumed they viewed Maselin as neutral or hostile.
And now a marriage proposal?
How should I respond?
Reject outright, and they'd use it as pretext to pressure Maselin. Plenty of dust to shake off excuses if they wanted.
But accepting positively is weird too.
The core of Stuffing Myself Full on the Rumors was riding the ambiguous flirts till the very end to end up with the protagonist. Agreeing now? Made no sense. Absolutely not.
Sure, shelter under the empire wasn't bad for Maselin. But—
The crown prince isn't a target. Pairing with a non-target... what happens? Can it even count as pairing? Too forced.
Kingdom's stance differed from Mirne's. For her, sticking to the original plot was safest.
Yes was trouble, no was trouble. In that bind, Mirne looked at the crown prince's face.
Chill.
What kind of eyes...
Eyes holding zero emotion for her.
And she realized: marriage wasn't the real goal. Do it or don't—either way.
His playful gesture whipped up a storm, and she was less than a candle before it.
This is... the changed crown prince...?
Terror of the story veering off-script from what she knew. Lifetime first of being deemed worthless by an indifferent gaze.
The mix crushed Mirne's mind.
"Hic, hngaaah...."
Unable to endure, she lost the strength to stand and began to collapse.
Or tried to.
"Feels like you should answer before fainting, but does Maselin conduct diplomacy like this?"
Grip.
Some force caught her fall.
"Kk, khk...."
Pressure of a power she'd never felt. As Mirne groaned in pain—
"Crown Prince!"
From the banquet hall.
"How can you treat someone like this!"
Without permission.
"Release her at once!"
Someone unleashed wild mana.
And then Mirne saw the crown prince's expression.
"...!"
The eyes of a beast spotting prey.
The crown prince, seeing the fool who'd dared draw mana in the empire's banquet hall, opened his mouth.
"Found you."
A viscous smile curled on the crown prince's lips.