Chapter 194: A Country for the Weak (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 194: A Country for the Weak (2)
The grand conference hall of the Imperial House of Lords.
Standing at the center of the dais, Reutern II’s voice rang out across the hall.
“My esteemed members of the House. The documents before you are a collection of remarks that Argento, the Prime Minister of Valkania, has spouted at both official and unofficial functions.”
From her seat as the scribe, Sonette listened intently, her pen flying across the page.
── As long as the threat of the Empire exists, our national defense must be strengthened, even if we must endure bone-grinding pain.
To Sonette, whose hobby—or rather, obsession—was collecting and analyzing records, this was all familiar information. She had scrutinized every document and speech related to Argento since the moment Valkania invaded Mekerel.
── I despise the subservience of the vile nobles who live as parasites, content under the Empire’s shadow.
However, the words spilling from Reutern’s mouth were entirely different from the original text.
── Weak cowards who cannot even breathe without the Emperor’s command.
He was manipulating the sentences.
His choice of words was deliberate, twisting subtle nuances into blatant hostility to incite the crowd.
── They are rotting corpses, though they still draw breath.
Such blasphemous words flowed from Reutern II’s lips, grating against the nobles’ ears like coarse sand.
Everyone’s expression froze.
“Members of the House, I ask you! Why in the world must we support these barbarians who spew such arrogant, insulting nonsense at our Empire?!”
All of this would surely reach the Emperor’s ears, but Reutern didn't hesitate for a second.
“Why must we share the Empire’s sacred resources and military might with such vulgar bastards?”
It was a pure propaganda script—refined by Johann Goetze to suit the nobles’ tastes, bolstered with academic evidence by Professor Ruben, and finally presented to Reutern.
Yet, Reutern recited it flawlessly, as if these profound insights were entirely his own.
“Valkania is nothing but vermin, thoroughly unworthy of the Empire’s mercy.”
Sonette recorded every word Reutern uttered without missing a single syllable.
“Above all, how dare they recklessly start a war without so much as a word to our Empire, the guardian of continental order…”
The arrangement of words, the calculated pauses that heightened emotion, the delicate rhetoric designed to stroke the nobles’ sense of exceptionalism.
It was a masterpiece crafted solely for propaganda and incitement.
Scratch. Scratch.
As her nib scraped across the parchment, Sonette was forced to make an admission she loathed.
…It’s a damn well-written piece.
Reutern clearly harbored ambitions she had failed to grasp.
…
Thanks to Reutern II’s fierce opposition, the House of Lords meeting ended without reaching a consensus. Grossman mobilized his Direct Agency, ordering a full investigation into Valkania to uncover exactly why that inscrutable snake of a man had finally made his move.
“…Hmph.”
Grossman’s brow furrowed deeply as he reviewed the dozens of pages compiled by the Direct Agency.
Cross-verifying Valkania’s internal political documents with Prime Minister Argento’s unofficial statements revealed one undeniable truth: they did, in fact, hold a clearly hostile stance toward the Empire.
Next were the academic papers from Imperial Central University regarding Valkania.
Then came a military critique recently published by Professor Ruben, a rare scholar who had dedicated his entire life to researching Valkanian affairs.
“…”
Grossman turned the page, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth.
One page, two, three… he read through the entire text, hundreds of pages long.
The sheer incompetence of the Valkanian military, their abysmal logistics system, the deep-seated animosity they held toward the Imperial nobility—it all matched Reutern’s claims from the dais with startling accuracy.
“He’s still an enigma.”
Grossman pressed his fingers against his temple.
The man is clever.
He didn't just read domestic politics; he understood diplomacy and could see straight into the heart of foreign nations.
“…This is actually a good thing.”
A faint smile spread across his lips.
The man who had, until now, been entirely absorbed in consolidating power among the royals had finally revealed his true intentions before the Emperor.
In other words, he had finally joined the game.
“It’s better to have him out in the open.”
Grossman exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke, picturing Reutern II sitting across from him. Three people sitting at an invisible chessboard.
You, me, and that woman.
There were only the three of them at this table now.
…
“Heh heh heh. Kyahahaha!”
Meanwhile, Reutern II was sprawled across a plush sofa in a private room, blissfully reliving ‘the incident’ at the House of Lords.
“Ah, that was fun.”
Though more than three days had passed, he couldn't stop replaying that day in his mind, bursting into laughter all over again.
“Hey. How was I up there?” he asked the secretary standing beside him. The secretary immediately chimed in with a bright, sycophantic smile.
“You were magnificent, Lord Reutern. No one dared to even refute your words.”
“Ah, right? Hah, it was a ridiculous proposal from the start anyway. Why would we help those ungrateful morons?”
Reutern II swept his hair back in smug satisfaction.
He basked in the electrifying thrill of those high-and-mighty nobles staring up at him like dumbstruck fools during his speech. It was a script he had painstakingly memorized with Professor Ruben, and despite a few small slip-ups, the delivery had been perfect.
“Did you see the look on that old geezer’s face? Theodore or whatever his name was? Hah! I guess this is why you have to study.”
“Indeed. Your insight is truly exceptional, my lord.”
“Of course. I’m the foremost authority on Valkania, aren’t I?”
Reutern II chuckled, lifting his chin arrogantly.
“We will never!”
He shot up from the sofa, trying to reenact his impassioned speech.
“…Wait, what was it again? Ah, I forgot.”
“‘Partake in their barbaric games!’ my lord.”
“Ah, right, right! Hey, how’d you memorize all that?”
“Because it left such a profound impression on me, my lord.”
“Wow, you’re good. Wanna hit up Lilac Vita with me tonight?”
“…It would be an honor!”
Haha. Hoho. Lately, Reutern found himself thinking the exact same thing more and more:
Life is truly fun and enjoyable.
*
A few days later, Princess Justine summoned me to the hideout.
She praised my work in rooting out the corruption in the Eastern Borderlands, then naturally steered the conversation toward the Valkania-Mekerel War.
“What are your thoughts?”
“What could I possibly add to the Imperial Family’s diplomacy?”
I feigned a polite refusal, but the princess was persistent.
“Father is also deliberating. If the Empire takes Valkania’s hand, we could gain a steadfast ally. What do you think?”
She asked for ‘my thoughts’ twice.
That meant I wasn't allowed to evade the question.
“…Does the nation of Valkania possess enough value for the Empire to extend a hand first?”
When I posed that subtle counter-question, the princess’s brow twitched minutely.
“Did Reutern II say something like that to you?”
Reutern II, the man who had viciously denounced Valkania in the House of Lords.
It seemed the princess was also keeping a very close eye on his movements.
I gave a faint smile.
“It was less about him persuading me, and more that I simply received the information Lord Reutern had gathered.”
“…That’s true. What that fool Reutern said wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t ‘wrong,’ per se.”
The princess let out a short laugh. It was not a pleasant sound.
“Then, Maximilian, how should the Empire move now? What should I tell my father?”
She was asking for my thoughts again.
Perhaps this was a test.
“What if we were to preserve the Empire’s dignity instead?”
“…Dignity, you say.”
“Yes. The West is cowardly. They pay lip service to justice, fiercely condemning the invader Valkania, but they lack the courage to actually subdue them with force. They won't even dispatch troops for the sake of Mekerel, the weak nation that was invaded.”
Let’s sacrifice our citizens’ lives and money for Mekerel!
Any politician who dared utter such words would be immediately ousted.
“The Eastern Union is even worse.”
Robrus was currently in the bloody midst of Chancellor Varmil’s Great Purge, and the other eastern nations were suffocating under severe economic hardship.
“While they condemn Valkania on the surface, they are secretly selling them mana stones to profit from the war.”
The princess’s red lips twisted in disgust.
“The Sled are Sleds, after all. Not a single one of them is in their right mind.”
“Precisely. But our Empire can move differently from them.”
“Move differently?”
“Yes. The Empire does not need to speak.”
Across the continent, there were still numerous small nations that had not yet been absorbed into the spheres of influence of the Empire, the West, or the East. They wouldn't be the main players in the coming Continental War, but they would be variables that could not be ignored.
After all, in the Continental War before my return, more than ninety percent of the continent’s independent nations had been dragged into the bloodshed.
“Cowards’ words and actions never align. But the strong prove themselves through action.”
Before my return, the Empire’s diplomacy had been an absolute disaster. It was dominated by coercion and threats, yet its words and actions were so thoroughly inconsistent that it eventually became the common enemy of every nation on the continent.
I had no intention of repeating that history.
The Empire needed to be an object of awe and fear, not a filthy pariah.
“What if we remain silent, but secretly help Mekerel?”
“Help a weak nation… What good would that primitive tribal state be to the Empire in the future?”
In southern Mekerel, fierce warrior tribes lived across the barren lands. If trained and pushed to the brink of war, they could be utilized as a perfectly serviceable fighting force. Moreover…
“It would be of immense help to the Empire’s reputation. Unlike the hypocritical East and West, we would cultivate the image of a noble Empire that silently aids the weak.”
“Then we would become enemies with Valkania.”
“They are a nation we will have to conquer someday, regardless.”
“…”
The princess suddenly grew quiet. She seemed to be mulling over my words before a faint, knowing smile appeared on her lips.
“However, I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Is all of that truly your own idea?”
In that moment, I instantly sensed what was on the princess’s mind.
She probably thinks the architect of this strategy is Reutern II.
“…In truth.”
After all, Reutern was the first to publicly speak out against Valkania, while I, Maximilian, was merely a Knight of the Empire.
If that was the case…
“I did have a deep conversation about this with Lord Reutern.”
I wouldn't bother denying it.
The princess’s golden eyes flickered for a moment. She gave a soft laugh and tilted her gaze, her transparent eyes shimmering like fine wine.
“Maximilian, what do you think of that man, Reutern?”
A dangerous question.
Depending on my answer right now, Reutern II could be permanently removed from the Imperial Palace in the not-so-distant future.
“The Reutern II that I know…”
…However, for now…
“Is one of the most loyal subjects in the Imperial Palace.”
Reutern still had his uses.
“And I believe him to be a pure imperialist.”
“…”
Princess Justine simply nodded without a word.
Seeing her reaction, I suddenly felt a distinct sense of ‘trust.’
── Justine was finally beginning to trust me.
*
The royal palace of the independent nation of Mekerel. Hidden within the late-night fog, it was a place thoroughly shrouded in despair.
King Batimus stared down at a tactical map, his face lined with deep worry.
Ever since Valkania’s invasion, Mekerel’s front lines had been pushed back relentlessly. Their army was inferior to Valkania’s in absolutely every aspect—supplies, equipment, and firepower.
“…What of the requests for aid?”
At the king’s weary question, the Minister of Internal Affairs bowed his head.
“We have received no proper response, Your Majesty.”
The great powers of the West only paid lip service to peace.
King Batimus had dispatched secret envoys across the continent to desperately plead for military aid, but the replies from the western nations and the Eastern Union were all exactly the same.
‘We have already imposed strong economic sanctions and an embargo on Valkania.’
‘Further intervention is impossible, as it risks escalating tensions between nations.’
‘So, what exactly is it that you want?’
‘If you are an independent nation, you should act like one.’
Empty declarations could not save Mekerel’s dying people.
He understood, of course, why they couldn’t send troops. Their own citizens' lives were precious to them, too.
But to say they couldn’t provide supplies—no, to say they couldn’t even sell them…
It was no different from saying they didn’t give a damn if Mekerel was wiped off the map.
“…How dark our future is.”
Just as a suffocating sorrow enveloped the palace—a despair born from their inability to even properly counter the enemy’s flimsy pretexts…
“—Your Majesty!”
The captain of the royal guard rushed into the chamber with urgent steps.
“A secret letter has been delivered!”
It was a black envelope bearing no seal. King Batimus took it, tore it open, and read its contents. He absorbed the sentences, written perfectly in the Mekerel language, line by agonizing line.
“…!”
At a certain point, his fingers began to tremble violently. The paper fluttered from his grasp, drifting to the floor.
“Your Majesty?”
“…Ah.”
The king collapsed back onto his throne.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
As his retainers cried out in alarm, a strange change came over the king’s face.
The expression blossoming there resembled overwhelming joy far more than sorrow or despair.
…
That night, at an abandoned ghost port in southern Mekerel.
Swooshhh—
Cutting through the fog-enshrouded sea, arriving just beyond the churning waves, dozens of cargo ships of unknown nationality docked in absolute silence.
Countless tons of food, medicine, rifles, anti-tank mines, and mana stone bombs stacked upon their decks were swiftly unloaded onto the shore.
“Everyone, move out.”
The Mekerel regular army, which had been waiting in advance under the cover of darkness, sprang into action.
They transported the immense stockpile of military supplies directly to the Mekerel-Valkania front lines.
Of course, no matter how advanced the weapons were, the still-inexperienced Mekerel army couldn't overwhelm Valkania’s veteran regular forces in an instant.
But they now possessed more than enough firepower to prevent a one-sided massacre and drag the front into a grueling stalemate.
And as the days passed, and more days, and still more…
The northern Mekerel front.
“What the fuck is this?!”
A Valkanian officer, having just captured a Mekerel position after a fierce and bloody skirmish, scowled as he picked up an item left behind in the muddy trench.
It was a state-of-the-art rifle boasting a sleek, smooth steel finish.
It was a modern weapon, existing on a completely different level from Mekerel’s crude, shoddy conventional arms.
“…How the hell do these dirt-eating beggars have weapons like this?”
The officer expertly disassembled the rifle’s barrel.
“Fuck… this doesn’t make any sense.”
It looked far superior to even Valkania’s own standard-issue gear.
“Hey! Get over here!” The officer barked, calling over a passing soldier.
“Yes, sir!”
“Deliver this straight to headquarters.”
“Wh-what is this, sir?”
“What does it look like? It’s a weapon. No wonder those bastards were resisting so damn fiercely…”
The captured weapon would be immediately delivered to the Valkanian military high command.
Before long, Valkania’s de facto ruler, Prime Minister Argento, would learn of its existence.
And as he mobilized every intelligence agency at his disposal to trace the origin of this weapon—tracing it, and tracing it, and tracing it again—at the very end of that long trail, they were bound to find…
the name ‘Reutern.’