Gunboat Diplomacy: Cannons Always Have the Answer

"Count Sarsen, do you agree that your side bears sole responsibility for violating the Sarsen-Lutetia Treaty and constructing the fortress?"

"Y-yes, yes. I... agree."

The answer we hadn't been able to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠extract for the past three years came spilling out just five minutes into the meeting. Count Sarsen, pale-faced and trembling like a leaf, looked almost pitiful.

Seeing him like that made me feel a touch of pity, so I smiled to lighten the mood.

"Haha, why such a long face, Count?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all."

"Well, that's a relief. This is a momentous occasion where we finally clear up three years of misunderstandings between the South and the Sarsen territory. It wouldn't do to look so gloomy, would it?"

Only then did the Count's expression ease slightly. He seemed to think the negotiations were wrapping up. Well, in this romanticized fantasy world, war usually ended the moment one side won.

"Now then, shall we discuss war reparations?"

Of course, I had no intention of stopping here. Did he really think he could just wipe his mouth and walk away after sucking up tolls for three years? It was time to show this fantasy world what 20th-century diplomacy looked like.

"War... reparations, you say?"

"You just admitted to your wrongdoing, Count. Is that correct?"

"Th-that is correct."

The Count's face turned white and stiffened. Ignoring his distress, I pressed on.

"Then surely, you must take responsibility for your actions."

Snap. With a light flick of my fingers, Lucilla brought forward a stack of documents. It was a comprehensive ledger of the tolls our Southern merchant coalitions had paid to Sarsen Fortress over the last three years.

"This is the list of tolls extorted from our merchants by Sarsen Fortress over the past three years."

Naturally, I didn't expect to squeeze every last copper out of them. First of all, the South was one of the empire's five major regions, boasting a population and territory incomparable to a mere county like Sarsen. The South's primary industry was manufacturing, while Sarsen's was agriculture.

The difference in their revenues was astronomical. With such a massive disparity in economic scale, squeezing a backwater like this wouldn't yield much. It would be a miracle if we could even get half.

"Therefore, we will accept only a quarter of the total sum in cash."

Of course, that didn't mean I was letting them off the hook for the rest. The imperialist powers of the 20th century knew dozens of ways to slice open nations that tried to play dead and claim bankruptcy. Fishing rights, land-use rights, mining concessions... Even in a rural estate like Sarsen, which had nothing but fields and mines, there was plenty to strip away if you looked closely enough.

Sensing the grim future awaiting his territory, Count Sarsen asked in a trembling voice,

"How much... is the total?"

"1.78 million Credits. You certainly lined your pockets with a sum equivalent to the construction cost of our Dreadnought. On top of that, we must also factor in compensation for the disruption of our corporations' overland exports due to the collapse of the fortress."

"That is absurd!"

For the first time, Count Sarsen, who had been entirely submissive until now, flared up in protest.

"Our Sarsen territory does not have the capacity to pay such an astronomical sum!"

"Do you truly believe that?"

"In the first place, you were the one who unilaterally demolished the fortress we spent three years building! I absolutely cannot accept any more of these unreasonable demands!"

Even a worm will turn when stepped on, they say. Cornered, Count Sarsen seemed to have forgotten exactly what kind of situation he was in.

"How disappointing."

In that case, there was no need for me to maintain pleasantries. I wiped the amiable smile from my face, my expression hardening as I spoke.

"Have I been speaking with Count Sarsen all this time, or was it a reactionary insurgent?"

"W-what..."

"There is no mercy for reactionaries."

As I stood up with a cold, indifferent expression, the anger drained from Count Sarsen's face, replaced by sudden dread. He must have finally remembered the massive naval guns currently aimed directly at his city. I spared him a brief glance and gathered my adjutants.

"We are withdrawing. It seems our counterpart is incapable of rational negotiation."

"That's only because you put forward such ridiculous terms!"

"If that is how you feel, then you may conduct the rest of the negotiations directly with our fleet."

Leaving those words behind, I threw open the doors of the conference hall and walked out. A moment later, the distant sound of the Dreadnought stirring echoed through the air.

Bwooooooo— The long, deep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blast of the ship's horn reverberated through the sky, vibrating in our chests.

Just as I took a step toward the flagship—

"I will accept any terms! Whatever you want, Your Grace! Just please, spare us the bombardment...!"

A desperate voice wailed from behind.

In the end, we extracted an immense amount from the negotiations with Count Sarsen.

First, we secured a 99-year lease on the port of the Sarsen territory and its surrounding cities. While framed as a "lease," a 99-year term was practically tantamount to permanent annexation. By incorporating one of the West's major ports into the South, we successfully established a crucial foothold on the western continent.

We also acquired the mining rights to the mana stone mines in the Sarsen territory. For the next 99 years, all resources mined in Sarsen would be sold with right of first refusal to Southern corporations.

In exchange for restoring the destroyed overland route between Sarsen and Lutetia, we also managed to seize their fishing rights. It was fair to say we had stripped him of everything except his title of Count. Sarsen was now virtually indistinguishable from a colony.

Yet, the reason I didn't go as far as establishing direct colonial rule was simple.

"Because it doesn't make financial sense."

In the long run, colonies are a deficit-inducing enterprise. Building infrastructure, suppressing rebellions, deploying military and police forces, and crushing independence movements ultimately drains the state's coffers. The only ones who profit are the corporations.

Even the mighty British Empire ran a deficit on most of its colonies, with India being the sole major exception. There was no reason to burn state funds just to fatten corporate bellies. Besides, colonizing a territory belonging to the same empire would draw far too much unwanted attention.

As I wrapped up the situation and boarded the flagship, Lucilla, standing beside me, asked quietly,

"Is it really alright to conduct negotiations this way?"

"Looks a bit strange to you too, doesn't it?"

If possible, I wanted to resolve issues through normal, civilized means. But when the Crown Prince and the rest of the high-ranking nobles holding the reins of the empire were completely infatuated with a foreign woman, the world was already fundamentally broken.

"But there's no helping it. This world is out of its mind."

A world designed solely for the female protagonist. A world where the happiness of the female protagonist was all that mattered, regardless of what happened to the supporting cast. If this was the kind of world I, and the South I loved, had to survive in, then I would tear it down to its very foundations. Even if I had to burn this world to the ground to do it.

"Besides... this isn't just a matter between the Sarsen territory and the South."

We couldn't forget who was backing the Sarsen territory to allow them to pull such a stunt in the first place. Archduke Charles Raymonds of the West. The thug who played the 'bad boy' role in the original novel must have authorized the construction of the fortress.

"Whether we like it or not, we will soon clash with the West. To ensure the Sarsen territory doesn't try to betray us when that happens, we needed to deliver a shock powerful enough to keep them in line."

The Sarsen incident was merely a prologue to what was to come. On this vast continent, Sarsen was just a tiny speck. There were still numerous factions I had to contend with.

No matter how formidable the South's economic power was, or how overwhelmingly superior its industrial capacity was compared to other regions... overwhelming them all at once in a short span was impossible. Building fleets and mass-producing guns and artillery took time.

"In that sense, we must thoroughly prepare for our clash with the West."

I looked up at the sky as I spoke. The South, which carried the empire's economy. The East, which ruled the empire's seas. The North, which guarded the empire's northern borders. And the West, which dominated the empire's skies. To face the commander of the Wyvern Knights, we needed to be fully prepared.

The empire had never once lost a war in its history. The reason a rotting, internally collapsing empire could consistently win its wars was due to its overwhelming aerial supremacy.

The Wyvern Knights. The elite knights who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guarded the empire's skies were, without exception, aura users. Deflecting arrows and primitive bullets with their aura, they melted enemy ground forces with the devastating breath of their wyverns. Faced with the flawless, synchronized coordination of dozens of wyverns, there was very little ground forces could do.

And such perfect, mechanical coordination was the product of relentless training. Under the command of Archduke Charles Raymonds of the West, his crimson hair whipping in the wind, the Wyvern Knights were conducting their drills today as well.

After two hours of training, Charles landed on the ground to cool off his sweat when a messenger rushed toward him in a panic.

"An urgent report, Your Grace!"

"An urgent report? Did those savages beyond the western border start another rebellion?"

Charles's blood-red eyes began to flicker with irritation.

"I'm certain I told them that if those uncivilized brutes ever set foot on my sacred territory, they should all just die on the spot."

"N-no, Your Grace! This report is from the Sarsen territory!"

Only then did Charles's expression soften. Panting heavily, the messenger pulled a document from his breast pocket and offered it up.

"Sarsen... Ah, the fellow who said he was building a fortress? It should be about finished by now. I wonder how it went."

Charles muttered to himself as he unfolded the paper—

"Ha."

A hollow laugh escaped his lips as he read the contents.

The last time Charles Raymonds had seen Southern Archduke Kyle Leopold was ten years ago. He had been an idiot who was banished to the South after hitting on Charles's lovely fiancée and falling out of everyone's favor.

"That little idiot sure has grown up, hasn't he? Even knows how to steal a bite from someone else's table now."

Furthermore, Archduke Charles Raymonds of the West was a man who absolutely loathed any encroachment upon his territory.

Charles Raymonds crumpled the paper in his fist and roared to the Wyvern Knights lined up behind him.

"Listen up, boys! It seems we have someone who desperately needs a lesson in manners!"

Charles recalled the image of Kyle kneeling before him ten years ago. He had absolutely no doubt that their upcoming second meeting would end in the exact same way.