The Third Prince's Position
As a brief aside, to understand why I told the Third Prince to make me his kingmaker, you first need to know the complicated undercurrents surrounding the current royal succession in the kingdom.
The nobility of Luxid Kingdom was split into two major factions regarding the succession. If I had to name them, they’d be the Royalist Faction and the Noble Faction.
The Royalist Faction was centered around the current king and the 1st Prince. They advocated for strengthening royal authority and central power. Most of their members came from old prestigious families and central nobles. They also enjoyed broad support among the knight class, who valued loyalty above all.
That made sense. The 1st Prince was a high-tier Sword Expert with genuine charisma. Despite his royal status, he actively participated in monster subjugations with a bold, dashing demeanor while also showing a thoughtful side that cared for the kingdom’s people. These qualities made him the ideal monarch in the eyes of most knights. The Royalist Faction had formed around the legitimate right of the firstborn and the 1st Prince’s personal magnetism rather than mere political gain.
In contrast, the Noble Faction revolved around the 2nd Prince and the great provincial lords. Simply put, they were the polar opposite of the Royalists. From the perspective of the great nobles, they preferred their own slice of power to be larger than a unified national strength. As a result, most influential provincial powers had latched onto the 2nd Prince as an anti-1st Prince symbol. The 2nd Prince, of course, couldn’t let go of his greed for the throne and eagerly accepted their support. Honestly, the faction was held together purely by self-interest, without any real justification or a charismatic figure to serve as its center.
And the biggest factor creating discord in the succession process was the complete absence of clear laws regarding royal inheritance. By custom, the firstborn was usually favored, but as with all things, Luxid Kingdom’s history had cases where primogeniture failed. The Noble Faction used this precedent to argue that the 1st Prince’s succession wasn’t the only option, dragging the whole affair into a muddy brawl. The Royalists had no clean way to refute that claim and were suffering constant headaches over it.
In the end, the current succession dispute was essentially a power struggle between the provinces and the capital. Once the 1st Prince inherited the ducal title of Gutbecken and the 2nd Prince succeeded the Duke of Clifecueste on the eastern coast, nobles began spreading rumors that tied the conflict to their titles. It was as if their peerages represented the central and provincial powers respectively. Far from reducing the king’s headaches, this only multiplied them.
In truth, it wasn’t all that strange. Feudalism was originally a system of subcontracting land management to others in regions beyond the central government’s direct control. In the process, every right and interest the center couldn’t manage ended up becoming the strength of local powers. It was only natural that provincial forces would gradually grow stronger. The current conflict between the capital and the provinces was simply the inevitable result of feudalism’s inherent limitations.
Well, for me, that was excellent news. There was no sweeter position than being the third force caught between two clearly opposed sides. And the Third Prince’s current stance was perfectly suited to forming exactly that kind of third power. I could nibble away benefits from both factions while staying neutral, then ally with whichever side best served my interests when the time truly mattered. That would yield the best possible outcome.
Obviously, the Third Prince must have had similar thoughts. Since he lived in the capital, he probably understood the situation in far greater detail than I did. Given how black his heart was—dark enough for a hundred snakes to flick their tongues—he had surely already been moving between both factions, quietly probing for opportunities.
In that case, I needed to appeal to him by offering a breakthrough from an entirely different direction.
“I will become Your Highness’s spear.”
“My strength, you say? But aren’t you a mage?”
Ugh… The mage treatment really stings. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely baseless, which made it hurt even more. Luxid Kingdom was a knight-centric civilization for a reason.
“It is obvious that mages possess tremendous firepower. But when compared to knights, is it truly that superior? I know they can shatter castles with overwhelming force, yet the time required to cast such spells is equally long. At best, they seem useful only in sieges. I cannot think of other practical applications.”
“That problem can be solved. We simply need to project firepower while remaining mobile.”
“Do you truly believe firepower delivered while moving can be more meaningful than a knight’s charge? Moreover, unlike knights, if your mount falls, you would be doomed.”
Shockingly, this insane medieval fantasy world made that statement true. Knights who could wield aura possessed specs that made you question whether they were even the same species as normal humans. Even by veteran standards, they could wear full plate armor and sprint five kilometers at speeds comparable to a galloping horse. Since their armor protected them from most attacks and they wouldn’t be isolated even if their horse died, they were an absurdly cost-efficient unit. In terms of my previous world’s weaponry, they were basically tanks—except the enemy had no anti-tank weapons.
Depending on the situation, a single knight could slaughter thirty infantry soldiers. That made it impossible to match their effectiveness with conscripts, and as a result, infantry had practically gone extinct in Luxid Kingdom’s territorial wars.
So when I said I would become the Third Prince’s spear, I was essentially claiming I could surpass the knights’ firepower and advantages. I had expected he wouldn’t believe me right away.
“I will create a system that can pour overwhelming firepower from long range. If we never get close, we won’t be isolated in enemy lines either.”
“Overwhelming firepower? As I said earlier, such magic takes a long time to cast. Even if you don’t approach, that would still give enemy knights more than enough time to close the distance.”
“The overwhelming firepower I speak of is not that kind.”
At those words, a spark of interest finally appeared on the Third Prince’s face. Time to drive the point home.
“We simply fire an overwhelming number of spells. We will launch countless spells in coordinated volleys to collapse the enemy formation at once. Compared to arrows, each shot will be heavier, yet we will deliver far more power than a single arrow in rapid succession. This will not only shatter enemy formations but also annihilate their forces while filling the battlefield with terror. That is the kind of mage I envision for the battlefield.”
In other words, the role of modern artillery. Of course, achieving the level of a K-9 self-propelled howitzer would be difficult. But artillery with enough firepower to be transported by infantry or wagons? That was entirely feasible. At minimum, one mage per mortar’s worth of firepower seemed realistic.
However, the Third Prince still looked somewhat unconvinced and continued his questions.
“No matter how talented an individual mage may be, there is a clear limit to their mana reserves. You speak of pouring out massive firepower, but I still doubt whether such a thing is even possible.”
“We can utilize altars.”
“Altars? Aren’t those constructed and used on-site?”
He was right. An altar was a structure built with magic circles and various tools to assist in casting spells. Its downside had always been poor mobility due to the need for on-site construction… but I had already solved that.
“We simply need to redesign them as portable installations.”
“You intend to carry altars?”
“Yes. I call them Altar Cannons.”
What did he think I had been doing for the past five years? While I had practiced magic, the majority of my time had gone into developing artifacts like this. The Altar Cannon was my greatest success. It was the most efficient and economical way to compensate for a mage’s weaknesses. Expensive, high-performance artifacts? Versatile staves to support mages? None of that was necessary. As long as it was sturdy, dirt cheap, and capable of spamming predetermined spells, that was more than enough. Why bother with costly tools?
“Even so, it would still be an expensive tool, would it not? And it appears only mages can use it.”
“Your Highness, the same applies to knights.”
“Hmm, that is true. I understand.”
It was the truth. Expensive, you say? Full plate armor was far more expensive. The raw materials for the steel used in knights’ armor were processed directly by high-ranking mages. The absurdly inefficient method of “if the melting point is high, just raise it with magic” had resulted in ironworking requiring surprisingly powerful mages. Because of that backward approach, mass production of steel in this world was practically nonexistent. Consequently, the steel for plate armor was expensive, and full suits made from it were even more so.
Since mages handcrafted each piece with artisanal care, the armor was practically an artifact. The highest quality pieces were all imported from the empire. At that point, a single suit of armor cost as much as a large mansion. It was obscenely expensive.
The issue of the Altar Cannon only being usable by mages? The only solution was to train mages in large numbers. But wasn’t that the same for knights? They were also an elite unit. Increasing their numbers wasn’t something you could do recklessly. The conditions were identical.
Of course, the current infrastructure gap was real, so training mages would indeed be more difficult than training knights right now. But that was a price worth paying. Because my Altar Cannons were far cheaper than full plate armor. From the design stage, I had made sure they could function even with the cheapest magic stones. If we secured enough mages, we would be able to field four Altar Cannons for the cost of a single high-tier knight’s full plate.
The Third Prince continued asking questions after that, but none were particularly important. In the end, he accepted me as his vassal.
Whew. Finally, I’ve escaped unemployment.
For now, I received a temporary knighthood. Since mage vassals were rare in Luxid Kingdom and there was no formal title for them, I was recognized as a knight on a provisional basis.
“Hmm. Since you have become my vassal, it would not be bad to have you prove the words you spoke. Go to my territory of Weistenfel and establish a mage unit there to demonstrate your claims.”
“Understood. Ah! There is one request I would like to make. Would you hear it?”
“What is it?”
“You remember the friend I mentioned earlier named Bruno, yes? Could you also take him as your vassal? I will bring him along and train him within the mage unit.”
Bruno, I’m going to drill you personally. Prepare yourself, you son of a bitch.