Firepower First, Commander
Eleanor had voluntarily written a report declaring that she so thoroughly enjoyed Life in the South with Isaac that she had decided not to return home and would remain in the South instead.
Having no further use for her, I sent her to a suitable facility and posted a watch so she could not leave without authorization.
Michelle, Commander of the Rose Knights, was temporarily transferred to a treatment center to recover from her gunshot wounds. The rest of the Rose Knights were herded into a separate facility from Eleanor's and placed under the same surveillance and control.
Those people were Sword Masters to a one. They had almost certainly never been treated like this in their lives, and their present circumstances must have been nearly impossible to accept.
But if I did not do this, the very pillars of this empire — the empire I would have to live in for a long time yet — would be torn out by the roots, and the country would collapse.
The only reason I still held authority over the West and could run it as I pleased was that the empire remained intact. If this nation fell and was swallowed by another, I would become nothing more than plain Isaac again.
The demi-humans I had spent an enormous amount of time elevating to a life fit for people would tumble right back into a world of crushing discrimination and hatred. And above all, not a single one of the weapons I intended to build would ever be made.
So for the sake of keeping this country standing, Eleanor had to stay right here.
In truth, locking Eleanor and the Rose Knights up like this would not normally have been a good choice at all.
Eleanor was the object of such fervent adoration from the Emperor, the Crown Prince, the bureaucrats, and the nobility that holding her captive here would draw a truly colossal amount of aggro.
Once the capital received her letter, public opinion would almost certainly boil over into demands that we be wiped out, and neither the North nor the East would sit idle.
Taking that kind of risk just to keep one woman pinned down was a very bad decision — but…
Whether a choice is good or bad is decided by power.
Just as the demi-humans, lacking power, had suffered and groaned under every form of discrimination and oppression from the end of the First Age until now, among humans as well this was a world where whatever the strong did became law and justice.
And I had modern firearms, each one an asymmetric force for this era, while even now the dwarves in the West were churning out new weapons at a staggering pace.
I had just received a report that one of them had been completed. The moment anyone tried to attack us, another weapon would open fire.
I was turning those thoughts over when Lumina called for me.
"Isaac, sir. Today we caught one hundred eighteen people for acts of discrimination against demi-humans. Another three hundred twenty-two were arrested on citizen tip-offs."
"Bundle them all up and send them to the Aoz Mine."
"I'll see to it at once. Also, Eleanor has requested a visit with Harth."
"With Harth?"
That was a rather unexpected request.
I doubted she was asking out of genuine concern or a sincere desire to see him…
Did she want confirmation from the man himself that the memory crystal I had shown her was real and not fabricated?
If it was real, she would keep her head down and stay quiet as she was doing now. If it had been faked, she would try to contact the Rose Knights or somehow reach the capital and have this place attacked?
"Shall I refuse?"
In truth, it did not matter what Eleanor did or said when she met Harth.
There was nothing the two of them could accomplish either way.
"No. It's not a difficult favor. Grant it. But put a watch on them."
"Are you certain that's wise?"
"If there were even the slightest chance it wouldn't be, I wouldn't have allowed it in the first place."
"Very well. I'll arrange it."
Eleanor was surprised that her unexpected request to see Harth had been approved. Under demi-human guard, she was led down into the underground dungeon.
"Harth is at the far end. We'll fit you with these restraints so you don't try anything foolish during the visit. When you're finished, come out and ask to have them removed. You have ten minutes."
The orcs locked special restraints around both of Eleanor's arms and legs, shut the dungeon door, and left.
There were many cells inside, but not a single other prisoner among them. Eleanor was guided to the one cell that held a solitary occupant. She recognized the man locked inside and called out to him.
"Lord Harth!"
"…?"
Harth, who had been staring blankly at the dungeon ceiling with the dead, glassy eyes of a rotting fish, all vitality drained from him, snapped back into focus at the sound of Eleanor's voice.
As she approached, he gripped the bars with both hands and pressed his face close.
The two of them reunited like a family torn apart by war, their fingertips barely able to touch through the thick double bars.
"A-Am I dreaming…? Eleanor, how are you here?"
"I came on imperial orders to mediate between the South and the West. Are you all right, Lord Harth?"
"Ah… aah… To see you again — I thought I would never lay eyes on you for the rest of my life! Even in this dark cell, you shine so brightly…"
"Lord Harth, what exactly happened with the West? Isaac said he completely crushed the South and killed every last member of the Iron Vanguard. Is that true? It has to be a lie, doesn't it? He showed me a memory crystal, but it must have been fabricated, right?"
Harth's pupils began to tremble violently.
Something had seized him with overwhelming terror; his whole body started to shake.
"I-Isaac… that— that bastard is a demon…! He's not human! Eleanor, you must never get involved with Isaac! That insane murderer… that psycho bastard wiped out our entire Southern army…! Kh…! Completely annihilated them! Two thousand Iron Vanguard dead in five seconds! He must have sold his soul to the devil! You have to tell His Majesty the Emperor that Isaac must be assassinated no matter what! Eleanor, I'll protect you no matter what happens…"
Harth, locked in a cell and capable of nothing, still somehow found it in himself to promise the woman he loved that he would protect her.
But Eleanor was not moved.
Instead, the certainty that the memory crystal she had seen was real and not fabricated only drove her heart deeper into despair.
"Is there truly… no chance of gathering the Southern army and striking Isaac? Is the disparity in power that absolute?"
"We can't win… We absolutely cannot win…! Damn it… damn it all! Those strangely shaped weapons the orcs were carrying… damn it…! There's no way to fight them! Steel armor, tower shields, protective magic — none of it did a thing! Th-That sound… just thinking of that sound… uuuugh… uwaaaaah!"
Harth clutched his head and screamed, thrashing as if in a fit.
Watching him, Eleanor felt despair — and, at the same time, profound disappointment.
So there's no way after all…? No hidden trump card, nothing — just locked in a cell and finished…? Then… there's nothing to salvage here.
Realizing that coming to Harth had yielded no solution whatsoever, Eleanor took a small step back and averted her eyes.
"I… see. Well, I'm glad you're safe, at least. Then… I'll be going now."
"What? Eleanor, wait! Don't leave me! If we join forces, there has to be a way! When you report to the imperial court, request aid — yes! The Rose Knights! The imperial court has the Rose Knights! If they infiltrate, they can deal with those bastards before they can activate their weapons! So—"
"Lord Harth, you're far too agitated. Please calm yourself and stay here."
"Eleanor! Eleanor! After all this time, you're leaving already…! Stay with me a little longer! Eleanor!"
Harth screamed in desperation, but Eleanor cut him off and left the dungeon behind.
"That was quick."
The orc standing guard outside the door answered flatly, then hauled Eleanor back to the facility where she belonged.
On the way to that prison in all but name, Eleanor wrestled with a storm of thoughts.
The Rose Knights…? They already came with me and still couldn't do a thing — what good would that do! What do I do… With the Rose Knights locked up alongside me, I can't get help from the capital right away, and even if I requested the Slayers, the North is far too distant from here. How do I…
Then it struck her: only she, the Rose Knights, and Harth were under watch. A great many other Southern officials still moved with relative freedom.
If she could simply pass word to the East through those people, the East would be able to counter those weapons.
The East's own military strength lagged behind the South and the North, but it possessed a natural fortress no knight or mage could breach — and every soldier of the Eastern army could move through that natural stronghold as if it were their own home.
"E-Excuse me, might I request a visit with Lord Leon…"
To escape Isaac, Eleanor laid plans to make contact with Leon, the South's free second-in-command who had not been imprisoned, and send a distress signal to the East.
Having more or less finished the urgent business in the South, I took a little time to return to my home territory in the West.
I had received a report that one of the new weapons development projects had finally been completed.
On the way, I stopped briefly at the Aoz Mine to check that management was running smoothly…
Muscular dwarves in red caps, stripped to the waist, were bellowing at the top of their lungs as they whipped the Southerners dragged in for hard labor into line.
"Still clinging to that soft-ass outsider mindset and refusing to become a Westerner, are you?! Looks like you need a proper injection of Western spirit! Work detail eleven — administer some brotherly love to that soft-ass punk right now!"
"Sir!"
"P-Please spare me! I'll never do it again! I've learned my lesson! I've truly learned it! Never again— a-aargh!"
Hmm. Management seemed to be going well enough, though I was starting to think it might be better not to look too closely.
Leaving behind the high-spirited Aoz Mine, where Southern race-supremacists were being hauled in one after another, I headed for the dwarves' workshop mines and met with the dwarves running the project.
"Rondar, I hear the project is finished. Have you run a field test?"
At my words, Rondar — chief among the master dwarven craftsmen — thumped his chest and squared his shoulders with pride.
"Of course, boss! Ran exactly like the manual we wrote at the start of the project — smooth as anything! Want to see it for yourself?"
"I do."
I walked with Rondar to where the newly completed weapon waited.
A vehicle with a square container mounted on a large truck bed.
Automobiles had been commercialized to some degree even in this world, but they were still extremely early models. This one, by contrast, looked like a modern vehicle I knew from my own world.
Firearms ready to spit flame were arrayed neatly inside the container on the truck. As the dwarf in the driver's seat worked the panel, the container raised its head and tracked smoothly left and right.
Their short stature meant a dwarf could not drive the vehicle itself, but turning dials and inputting coordinates posed no problem at all.
"Firing coordinates confirmed!"
"Already set! Just hit the button!"
"Good. Fire!"
The dwarf in the driver's seat pressed the launch button, and the rounds on the truck spat out in rapid succession, streaking across the sky.
Through the telescope the dwarves handed me, I watched the target coordinates. A moment later the ground erupted in a violent cascade of explosions, flinging dirt and dust into the air.
"It works well. Truly excellent. As a reward, knock off early today and we'll drink together. I brought the finest Southern beer with me."
"Hahahaha! That's our boss for you — always thinking big! That big-eared one isn't around today, so let's drink till our noses are crooked!"
At the promise of an early quit and a beer party, the dwarves roared with joy loud enough to shake the place.
Because the dwarves struggled with driving, I took the wheel myself and parked the vehicle we had brought out back into the garage.
While I was parking, Rondar asked me a question.
"So what should we call this fine piece of work going forward, boss?"
"Borrowing a poetic turn of phrase from the Eastern Continent — the launched missiles cover the heavens and embroider the sky. So this weapon's name shall be…"
Looking upon that overwhelming, magnificent multiple rocket launcher that would stir the soul of any firepower-first people, I shed tears of joy inside.
"We'll call it the Cheonmu."