Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Impending War (2)
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The air in the Imperial Palace's grand conference hall was as cold as an icehouse.
Just minutes ago, the warm atmosphere from the successful first fruits of southern trade had shattered into pieces due to a single urgent intelligence report.
"War..."
Emperor Siegmund von Ruberius's red eyes gleamed coldly.
The Intelligence Department's report was despairing.
The allied forces of the Raalak and Abarut tribes were already mobilizing troops, preparing to march toward the walls of the Raktali tribe.
The Minister of Military Affairs opened his heavy mouth.
"Your Majesty, according to the Intelligence Department's analysis, the enemy tribal alliance is estimated to reach the Raktali tribe's walls by crossing the jungle in about a fortnight."
A fortnight. Not short, but woefully insufficient to accomplish anything substantial.
The Minister of Finance cried out with a face drained white.
"Your Majesty! We must protect the trading post built in Raktali and the Empire's assets just now deployed there. The Empire's engineers and merchants building the walls will be in danger!"
As if to dismiss the commotion in the conference hall, Emperor Siegmund's fingers slowly tapped the armrest of his jade throne.
"You are right."
The conference hall fell silent again at the Emperor's low voice.
"The Empire has a duty to protect its citizens wherever they may be. The merchants and engineers dispatched to the southern jungle are my subjects there for the Empire's wealth. We cannot abandon them on the barbarians' battlefield."
The Emperor's eyes turned to the Minister of Military Affairs.
"Minister of Military Affairs, prepare the formation of the southern expeditionary force immediately."
"I shall obey your command!"
The Emperor's decision was swift. But the real problem began now.
"Now, who would be suitable to lead that expeditionary force as commander?"
At that one remark, a heavy silence fell among the ministers, accompanied by complex glances exchanged between them.
There was a reason the Empire had ignored that place even after unifying humanity.
The southern jungle was a land of death teeming with venomous snakes, poisonous insects, and unidentified endemic diseases.
Its commander was practically being pushed into a death trap.
"......"
The Emperor waited silently for their answers, piercing through their inner thoughts.
But in the returning silence, no one stepped forward, and no one provided an answer.
"...Hm. Well, it's not a matter that can be easily decided."
The Emperor, still seeing through their hearts, did not press further.
"Very well. Begin forming the expeditionary force, but I shall deliberate and appoint the commander. Dismissed."
As soon as the Emperor ordered dismissal, the heavy silence turned into busy glances.
The ministers scattered, but the key figures among them began to gather like iron drawn to a magnet.
Soon, the core members of the Imperial Noble Alliance gathered in the banquet hall of a mansion in the capital.
Heavy curtains blocked the windows, and the air was as heavy as in the palace conference hall.
Marquis Brandon raised his wine glass as if unperturbed, but his mind was complicated.
The word "southern deployment" lingered in his head. The members of the Noble Alliance were abuzz with the same topic.
And that word naturally brought one person to mind.
'Jonathan Valerius.'
Thinking of that name left a bitter taste in Brandon's mouth.
A few months ago, when he had pressured the Argentis family just to get some of that curious red sauce.
As a central noble, court noble, and holder of a key position in the imperial administration, he had expected a bit of face-saving share, but they refused his request on principle.
He had confirmed through accounting records that supplies were indeed short due to priority allocation to the military via imperial purchase, so the misunderstanding was cleared, but a petty grudge lingered despite knowing it himself.
But the current grudge was not such a trivial emotion.
Soon, amid murmurs, a seasoned old count spoke up.
"We can't just sit by and watch. Jonathan of Valentia."
Everyone in the banquet hall nodded.
In recent months, imperial power had soared to the heavens.
They had seized the markets with the Imperial Safe Mark, amassed massive funds, caught tax evaders, and even subjugated the northern giants.
Even the centuries-old conflict between the imperial family and the Papal Court had been mended, freeing them from wasting energy on power struggles and bolstering the imperial family entirely.
At the center of all this was Jonathan Valerius.
"That's exactly the problem."
A seasoned old count spoke heavily.
"He is neither a central noble nor a member of our alliance. Yet he has the backing of the imperial family, the Church, and the Magic Tower. Both the Valerius and Argentis families are historic houses, so we can't find fault with his lineage."
Another swirled his wine glass irritably and chimed in.
"Just the royalties from mayonnaise alone bring in daily earnings that mock our alliance's entire tax revenue. And rumors say the Princess not only favors him but even meets him privately!"
"If those rumors are true and he becomes the Emperor's son-in-law, our Noble Alliance is finished. The Emperor would have the blade to purge us."
It was undoubtedly correct.
The Noble Alliance consisted of those who had served the Empire since its founding era, but the reality was different.
If the imperial family gained full authority, their powers would be curtailed first, leading to their downfall.
Thus, they had maintained balance between the imperial family and the Church, solidifying their positions outside imperial reach. The Noble Alliance was formed for this common purpose.
But now the situation had changed.
Valerius's heir, who had refused affiliation anywhere and quietly served the Empire, was marrying Argentis's only daughter, merging their forces.
That alone would shake the board sufficiently, but he had also become the Church's Saint, gaining their protection, monopolized the Magic Tower's technology, and upended everything.
Moreover, he didn't stop at collecting royalties across the Empire but enabled the imperial family to legally scrutinize every merchant guild's ledgers like an open book.
A heavy silence enveloped the banquet hall. Everyone agreed. Jonathan had to be checked.
But the method was the issue.
"We can't declare war on his territory. Who would dare point a sword at him when the imperial family is one thing, but the Papal Court has recognized him as a Saint?"
"The Magic Tower is the same. They're reaping massive profits from his standardization system. If we strike Jonathan, the Tower will cut off magic tool supplies to our territories. Tsk."
Amid this, a voice began to echo in the banquet hall.
"Everyone, I have a good idea."
Their gazes converged on one spot. There sat the oldest count, wearing an eerie smile.
"Today in the palace, a perfect opportunity arose."
"Opportunity...?"
"The south."
At that word, the air in the banquet hall shifted. The old count continued.
"A land of death swarming with venomous insects and endemic diseases. The Emperor hasn't decided on a commander for it. We recommend that 'Saint' of yours."
"Oh...!"
The nobles' eyes gleamed at his words.
"Indeed! The southern swamps teem with venomous bugs and endemic diseases. Even a Saint's divine protection won't ward off all illnesses."
"Even if he avoids disease, there's war with the jungle barbarians. An unfortunate accident in battle, and he'd be a hero martyred for the Empire!"
Another noble's eyes shone with greed.
"The justification is perfect! The Saint going to civilize the barbarians and save imperial citizens—who could oppose that?"
"The Emperor favors him too, so he can't refuse under the pretext of giving him a chance to earn merits! And if the jungle's deadly fever claims him as a martyr, what could be more perfect?"
"A dead Saint from a storybook is the perfect Saint! Amen!"
Watching the alliance's hardliners heat up with excitement, Marquis Brandon swallowed a bitter smile inwardly.
'Martyrdom. They've gone too far.'
He didn't want the young Valerius heir to die.
Despite the lingering petty grudge, he harbored a certain gratitude toward Jonathan deep down.
When his aged body rejected greasy food, he enjoyed pleasant meals of grain porridge with fragrant marinara.
For delightful dinners with his wife, Bolognese sauce elevated the class.
Bitter greens forced down for health were made enjoyable by Thousand Island dressing, and late-night document reviews were complemented by tomato sauce and warm bread brought by a maidservant, becoming indispensable night snacks.
And it wasn't just him. His wife, Isabella Marchioness, infamous as the pickiest in the capital's social circles, was the same.
She was completely captivated by Jonathan's sauces, securing new ones first in the capital to host banquets, solidifying her social standing far more firmly than before.
Having received such unofficial favors from him, participating in discussions to push him to a death trap for martyrdom made Brandon feel quite awkward.
'Damn. If he dies, who'll develop his delicious new products?'
Killing him was the worst option. But checking him was necessary.
'Southern deployment. Yes, a great opportunity. But the goal should be attrition, not martyrdom.'
He knew the source of Jonathan's immense wealth.
Royalties, sauce sales. And the territories of Valerius and Argentis families.
'A southern expedition requires massive military funds. They'll need Valerius troops and Argentis supplies. The longer the war drags, the emptier their coffers. Even the Emperor's favor won't refill empty vaults.'
'It's obvious they'll deploy private troops. Instead of hoping he dies to disease as they want, end it with moderate attrition of their military and finances in the war of attrition with jungle barbarians.'
'Moreover, he's Valerius's only heir, and Argentis won't want their successor dead or injured. Even if they commit more forces, he'll likely command safely from afar.'
Attrition of family wealth and manpower. Balanced to not lead to complete ruin.
That was the ideal check.
Finishing his thoughts, Marquis Brandon raised his glass and turned to the excited nobles. A sly politician's smooth smile adorned his face.
"A truly excellent idea, Count."
The hardliners' faces brightened at his agreement. Marquis Brandon continued.
"Since the Saint stirred up this mess in the jungle himself, him taking responsibility to save imperial citizens is the perfect justification. I, Kuruchonep Brandon, will gladly recommend Valerius's young Saint as commander to His Majesty."
"Ooh!"
"As expected of Marquis Brandon!"
The Noble Alliance's opinion unified unanimously.
They raised toasts, convinced of Jonathan's martyrdom.
Brandon clinked glasses with them, but his calculations were complete.
Just before the banquet ended, Brandon slipped away to the mansion's study.
He dipped his pen in ink and recalculated the gains and losses if Jonathan Valerius died.
The wrath of the imperial family and Church would target the entire Noble Alliance. The Magic Tower's retaliation was unbearable. Above all...
'...I can't bear my table becoming tasteless. There's my wife's sake too.'
He smiled bitterly at the personal reason but didn't deny it as the strongest motive.
The Marquis wanted moderate attrition, not Jonathan's death.
Soon, he set down his pen and rang a small bell in the corner of the study.
Moments later, his most long-serving and loyal servant appeared silently like a shadow and bowed.
Brandon placed the short secret letter he had just written into an envelope and sealed it with red wax.
"Deliver this to Sir Jonathan of Valentia."
"..."
The servant asked no questions. He simply awaited his master's next words.
"The Noble Alliance has decided to nominate him as commander of the southern expeditionary force. His Majesty will summon him soon."
Brandon handed the letter to the servant.
"This is a warning from an anonymous source to prepare for the crisis in advance. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Master."
The servant tucked the letter deep into his bosom.
"Ensure it reaches only Sir Jonathan's hands. This letter is more important than your life."
The servant nodded deeply without a word in reply.
He turned and vanished from the study as silently as he had appeared, a soundless shadow.
Left alone, Brandon picked up his wine glass again.
'Well, Sir Saint. I've thrown the ball... now it's your turn to return it.'
Soon, with a seasoned politician's smile on his lips, he stepped back into the cold banquet hall.
Back in the Imperial Palace's office.
Emperor Siegmund recalled the silence from moments ago and began to smile faintly.
The man knew exactly what that silence meant. Silence was the most honest answer.
The one person they desperately wanted to check but couldn't voice.
The direction of their gazes was clear.
'Jonathan Valerius.'
The Emperor leaned deeply into his jade throne.
Those old foxes hoped to push him into a death trap under the pretext of his sainthood, to die of endemic disease or fall to a barbarian's blade.
The Emperor was not unaware of the old foxes' intentions.
'They're scheming to blunt my blade by shoving him into the pit.'
But satisfaction, not anger, swirled in the Emperor's red eyes.
'These fools are laying the board for me themselves.'
For opposite reasons, the Emperor also wanted to test Jonathan, the new blood to inherit the Empire.
The Empire's south. A place countless expeditions had attempted to conquer, only hoping for no continuous losses.
But due to its climate and terrain, it had devoured resources and manpower, known as the Empire's grave.
Humanity had never dominated this land, let alone civilized it.
But if Jonathan successfully completed even this southern expedition. If he achieved a feat that would mark not just the Empire's but humanity's history.
It would be a perfect accomplishment that even those old nobles couldn't lift their heads against. No, who could object?
Then, no one would dare object to his son-in-law, the Empire's future pillar.
The Emperor smiled satisfactorily and spoke.
"Lorensia."
"You called for me, Father?"
From the shadows of the darkened office, the red-haired Princess emerged as if she had been there from the beginning.
"Do you know what your task is now?"
"I'm prepared without you needing to say, Father."
"Hah, that's my daughter. I'll leave everything to you from here."
Lorensia gazed at her father on the throne, curving her red lips into a deep, seductive smile.