The Romantasy Imperial Family Is Hell (3)
A book I had never seen before, filled with letters I knew all too well.
The faint scent of ink rising from its pages told me this was no volume scavenged from some back-alley bookstall.
"A most fascinating book, Your Highness. Once you have finished reading it, I would like to share a brief private word with you, if I may."
"How does after dinner sound?"
"Excellent."
Was I to understand that there would be no conversation until I had read the book?
The Court Count did not prolong the exchange and took his leave.
After seeing him out, I closed the door and returned to my desk.
Mein Kampf.
A title that brought to mind a certain mustachioed dictator from my past life.
Of course, the contents written in the book the Court Count had handed me had nothing to do with any dictator from Earth.
'I expected as much, but... it really is a record of my actions from Cycle 1.'
A man who assassinated every member of his own family as a child and became Emperor.
The book recorded in meticulous detail how that man came to dominate the world and build a vast empire.
There was no doubt whatsoever that the Court Count had regained his Cycle 1 memories.
I recalled how the game had depicted the Court Count's character sheet back in Cycle 1.
'His Court Count traits were... Diligent, Schemer, and Expansionist, right? Three of them.'
With his outstanding stats and traits, he had been a core member of the empire I built in Cycle 1.
After I became Emperor, I carried out countless intrigues, and the Court Count stood at the center of nearly every one of those schemes.
'How did I conquer other nations, again?'
What is the easiest way to weaken another country's power?
My preferred method was to kill every major claimant to the throne and paralyze the entire chain of command.
Early on, I would eliminate the capable but distant cadet branches first, then assassinate the core heirs before their vigilance could rise too high.
After that, once the head of the house was dead and succession passed to some incompetent side branch, the enemy would fall to infighting the moment war broke out and collapse with ease.
Besides, those suddenly elevated to supreme power tended to surrender at the slightest setback.
In Cycle 1, I took great pleasure in my assassinations.
And there it all was, written out plainly in the book.
It is a sin in itself for the incompetent to lead a people, and the capable are duty-bound to sever the chains of that sin.
At first glance it sounded like sound reasoning, but it was sophistry — a justification for the powerful to kill other powerholders.
Beyond that, the book was stuffed full of content legitimizing imperialism and defending wars of conquest.
'Was I really like this? I was only playing the way I always played...'
It was a method I had gleefully employed in countless multiplayer matches and world-conquest speedruns, but seeing it translated into reality made it look a little different.
I set the book down and sank back into thought.
Why would the Court Count give me this book?
When I reread it under the assumption that I had no memories of Cycle 1, the Count's intentions gradually began to come into view.
'The Court Count couldn't possibly believe I have my Cycle 1 memories.'
Showing a book like this to someone like that meant one thing: he was hoping I would become Emperor, just as I had in Cycle 1, and conquer the world for him.
If the Court Count — a man who managed every affair of the imperial palace and excelled at intrigue and espionage — became my ally, the number of moves available to me would increase exponentially.
'The problem is, if I can't get a leash on him, I'm in serious trouble.'
It would be ideal if, along the way, the Court Count swore fealty to me and became my right hand.
But returners are, without exception, self-centered creatures.
'He'll definitely try to move me according to his own will. Even the book reeks of that intent.'
The Court Count believes that because he knows the future, he can manipulate me into producing an even better outcome than Cycle 1.
And being dragged around by the Court Count's agenda would be the worst possible situation for me.
'The Emperor... is no help at all.'
In terms of rank, I, an imperial prince by blood, outranked the Court Count.
But that mad Emperor who insists that even if all his children die, anyone capable can simply become Emperor — naturally, he would side with the Court Count over his own offspring.
And the Fourth Prince, whose only asset was his bloodline, had no choice but to be led around by the Court Count without the Emperor's protection.
'Worse, if I fail to please the Court Count, who knows what that mad old man will do to manufacture the tyrant of Cycle 1?'
If a talent discovered after regressing falls short, the natural course is to work to cultivate that ability.
And my consent would play no part in the process.
'What I need to do right now...'
The greatest opportunities arise from within crises.
If I could get a leash on the Court Count, I would become Hitler with his Göring... no — King Wen with his Jiang Ziya.
'The Court Count staying out of the spotlight while providing my full backing. Create that situation, and it's game over.'
I organized my plans as I prepared for the reckoning with the Court Count that would come shortly.
"Follow me."
With every preparation complete, I demanded a private audience with the Court Count.
A perfect sealed chamber, beyond the reach of anyone's eyes.
The Court Count had summoned me to his own bedchamber, then guided me through a hidden room concealed behind a bookshelf.
"..."
A secret space built into the very heart of the imperial palace.
He had obviously obtained the Emperor's permission — but the fact that he was showing it to me carried significant weight.
'So he has no intention of giving up on me.'
If I failed to meet the Court Count's expectations, what options did he have?
He could scheme to mold me into the tyrant of Cycle 1, but there was also the option of washing his hands of me in bitter disappointment.
Losing a powerful ally like the Court Count would sting, but at least I wouldn't gain an enemy — a serviceable second-best outcome.
Yet judging by the fact that he had opened up even his secret chamber, the option of abandoning me apparently did not exist.
I walked in boldly and took the seat arranged in the hidden room.
Sitting down before my host had even invited me might have looked like rudeness.
But for the sake of my plan, I needed to come out swinging from the very start.
"..."
"..."
The Court Count quietly took the chair across from me.
What was he thinking right now?
No — what would satisfy the Court Count most, given how I behaved?
The Fourth Prince the Court Count desired was a hardened, ruthless tyrant — not a gentleman with impeccable manners.
Thud!
I slammed the book down on the table in front of me.
"You've given me a truly fascinating gift, my lord."
"...I'm glad it was to your liking."
The Court Count's eyes narrowed.
The Fourth Prince whose body I now inhabited was twenty years old.
By no means an advanced age — yet it was an age by which any exceptional talent should have long since revealed itself.
But the Fourth Prince in my memories had lived the life of a mediocrity.
A boy who distinguished himself at nothing, who won the support of no one.
Not a dullard, mind you — but not brilliant either, a prince not worth the trouble of noticing.
That was the world's verdict on the Fourth Prince.
In Cycle 1, that same Fourth Prince had killed every last member of his family and ascended the throne in the span of a single year.
Which meant the Fourth Prince had been a tiger with its claws sheathed all along.
That, surely, was the conclusion the Court Count had drawn.
From this moment on, I would become exactly the person the Court Count most wanted to see.
"My elder brother stepped down as Crown Prince out of nowhere, and my head was already aching — but reading this book has made it ache all the more."
"With the Crown Prince gone, has not an opportunity opened for you as well, Your Highness?"
"The opportunity opened for my elder sister, more likely."
I spread open the book the Court Count had given me.
"The alarm bell of a succession war has rung through a greenhouse where the sheep were living in peace."
In Cycle 1, the serious assassinations of the imperial family began roughly six months from now.
Judging by the timeline, I — the Fourth Prince — should already have been preparing my schemes.
"The bell rang for sheep who had sprawled out without a shred of vigilance. Every existing plan is now meaningless."
In that light, what did it mean that the Court Count had handed me this book?
The book laid out, in full, the methods and process by which the Fourth Prince would go on to assassinate his kin.
I know exactly what you're planning to do.
The Court Count had declared that he knew all of my assassination plans.
Of course, I knew it was baseless bluffing — but the Court Count was leveraging his knowledge of the future to apply pressure on me.
So then — what did the Court Count stand to gain by pressuring me?
'He means to put a leash on the tiger cub.'
A declaration that he intended to hold my leash in the relationship to come.
In Cycle 1, the Court Count had been my loyal subordinate. In Cycle 2, he was trying to collar me.
Why would a man who was once a devoted retainer act this way?
"The contents of this book — because it was procured from some back-alley bookstall, they are utterly vulgar."
"Is that so?"
"An empire built this way won't last ten years. An empire with no glory and no meaning whatsoever."
The empire I built in Cycle 1 was a state that crushed all discontent and rage through sheer force.
An empire stacked upon fear and violence collapses the instant the strength to maintain that fear falters.
And the Court Count's disposition was that of an Expansionist.
He wanted the empire's territory enlarged permanently — he would have no interest in expansion through methods destined to crumble overnight.
"This book is garbage. An emperor like this should never be allowed to exist."
"An unexpected review."
"It's opened my eyes, in a way. The plan in this book was misbuttoned from the very first hole."
I pointed to the very first part of the book.
The part about assassinating the other members of the imperial family.
"The imperial family are endlessly useful pieces. Instruments for political marriages — or, with a governor dispatched to a subject province, tools for steering public opinion."
"Steering public opinion, you say... in what manner, precisely?"
"There are any number of ways. Install a wicked governor, then remove him, and you gain the image of a just ruler. Or, conversely, install a good one and soothe the public's grievances."
"Either way, the governor's ending would not be a pretty one, I imagine."
The good cop, bad cop strategy — still in frequent use even in the modern era.
It could be applied just as effectively to placating the populace of conquered territories.
But there was a perfectly good reason the empire had never made use of such methods.
"Using the next heir in line that way would carry a considerable risk of treason, would it not?"
"Exactly that!"
BANG!
I slammed my hand on the table and rose to my feet.
"Killing off every one of these magnificent pieces out of fear of a little treason! It makes my skin crawl."
"Treason is a fate that follows an emperor for life, Your Highness."
"Abandoning core resources out of fear of fate — that is the sort of thinking fit only for the weak."
The Court Count's expression shifted in a peculiar way, but I paid it no mind and turned the pages toward the middle section.
"It's the same with assassinating powerholders to conquer their lands. Kill everyone who might have become an ally, and you needlessly squander resources."
"Precisely correct."
How had the empire of Cycle 1 filled these gaps in administration?
The answer was: it didn't.
A player who discards the save file and moves on to the next Earth the moment world conquest is achieved.
All that mattered to the player was that the nation held together until his goal was met.
Under an emperor who behaved that way, the Court Count — Minister of Imperial Intelligence — must have suffered endlessly.
"The direction of your schemes was wrong. I can think of hundreds of better approaches."
"Such as?"
"First, you sort out who can be turned into an ally and who must remain an enemy. Then you can sow division from within, or manufacture a third faction. Elevating a persecuted group to leadership also works nicely."
The Fourth Prince, methodically rebutting each and every one of his Cycle 1 exploits.
To the Court Count's eyes, I must have looked like a man engaged in self-criticism.
And once the self-criticism was complete, it was time to fill in the improved version.
"That's how it strikes me. If it were me, I wouldn't do it that way... if it were me, I could do so much better..."
"Prince."
The Court Count took the book I had been reading and quietly closed it.
"Any man can speak of building a great empire. What matters is whether he possesses the ability to actually carry it out."
"Ability, you say..."
Since beginning this private audience, I had been scratching at precisely the spots the Court Count found wanting from Cycle 1.
This time, I will not run the empire so recklessly.
This time, I will build an even more perfect empire.
So follow me again.
But that alone, it seemed, was not enough to bring the Court Count over to my side.
"The plans of a man without ability are mere delusion. Even an ogre is protected by its parents while it is a cub."
"..."
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Translated bluntly, the Court Count's words amounted to this:
You don't have that kind of ability. Just follow my instructions.
The Court Count wanted me to grow under his command.
'He knows the future, after all. He figures if he shapes me like clay, he can craft an even more perfect outcome.'
The Court Count, convinced he alone held the future in his hands.
His head would already be packed with step-by-step plans for molding me into the finest emperor in history.
The problem was that the future held no place for my own will.
And there was one more thing the Court Count had overlooked...
"A lion throws its own cubs off a cliff, they say."
"That is a false legend."
The future belonged to me far more than it did to him.
"But plenty of people believe it to be true. And there is a reason people believe what is false."
The Court Count, who wished to puppet me into the emperor of his liking.
And me, who wished to coast to power on nothing but the Count's support.
Our tug-of-war for initiative had run along parallel lines — until the Court Count stepped onto the battlefield I had prepared for him.
"A cub that has never once made a kill cannot survive on its own."
Translated bluntly, the Court Count's words amounted to this:
What have you ever accomplished? You've achieved nothing at all.
Twenty years old — treated as a full adult in this world's reckoning.
The world's verdict on the twenty-year-old Fourth Prince was nothing more than mediocre.
Not a dullard — but not brilliant either, a person not worth the trouble of noticing.
"You would know, my lord, the rumors circulating in high society of late."
"Rumors, you say."
"I hear it's become fashionable for young lords to fight duels over young ladies. And in the process, some rather pointed words get exchanged."
The shocking spectacles from the original novel.
A nobleman publicly insults another noble, and the quarrel that follows is settled by duel.
Even then, the victor did not use the win for personal gain — instead, it was spent on heartfelt apologies and declarations of defeat, settling the whole affair as emotional catharsis.
This was the snowball set rolling by the mad Emperor who invented the Duel Succession.
And as a strategy gamer, wasting a casus belli on something so meaningless was an unforgivable sin.
The question was whether any mad noble would dare insult an imperial prince...
"No noble would have the gall to insult an imperial prince — but what of a Fourth Prince dismissed as a mediocrity?"
"Who can say."
"I can see it clearly. Just how much that title of 'mediocrity' will bring me."
A place where no one held any expectations of me, where everyone dismissed me — that place, above all else, was my greatest asset.
A man who, by your own assessment, had accomplished nothing.
I argued to the Court Count that this very assessment was my life's crowning achievement.
And the Court Count, hearing that argument...
"..."
could find no grounds to refute it.
I had won the debate. Now it was time to collect the spoils.
"Lord Heiman."
"Speak, Your Highness."
"You have never once backed an imperial prince, have you, my lord."
Reinhard von Heiman.
In the original novel, he was a man whose name never even appeared.
A mastermind who moved wholly in the shadows.
Today, I would become another mastermind — one that Heiman knew nothing about.
"A new war of succession has begun. Will you not join hands with... us?"
"'Us', you say."
"Yes. You possess something that we never had. With your help, a hundred-year plan could be compressed by decades."
A Fourth Prince who killed every imperial relative and took the throne in barely a year.
Any reasonable observer would assume some other faction must have been backing him.
A shadow organization whose trail even the head of Imperial Intelligence — the Emperor's most trusted right hand — had failed to uncover.
Granted, the Fourth Prince had helped — but a secret society that assassinated the imperial family in the very heart of the palace and left no trace to the very end?
Heiman had asked me for the handshake.
A declaration of unconditional surrender.
I clasped his hand.
"There will be no public declaration of support."
"The more secrets, the better."
Through Heiman's grip, I felt a strength of grip that defied his age.
Evening of my first day in this transmigrated world.
I had acquired the most powerful ally imaginable.