Never Again a War? - 1
I glanced absently out the window and found a sky without even a single cloud—rare enough that I wasn't sure whether to celebrate the clear weather or complain about the heat. It was nearly summer, after all, and not a wisp of cloud in sight.
Ordinarily it wouldn't have mattered; I rarely stepped outside the building. But right now even this serene weather felt grating. So this was what people meant by the calm before the storm.
"A bitter cold will soon descend on the North. Keep that in mind, nephew."
The memory of the Wise Duke's words during the school trip made my head throb all over again.
Damn it.
A sigh slipped out on its own. The mere fact that the Wise Duke had shaken off her drunken haze and spoken with crisp clarity was already ominous—and of all topics, it had to be the North.
If she had said something vague like "Something might happen soon," I could have told myself it was still only speculation. But she had pointed squarely at the North. Frivolous as she might appear, she was not the sort to joke about such things. That made it all but confirmed.
Even after we returned to the Academy from the school trip, the Demon Duke's expression had been off as well.
The Dukes know.
The Wise Duke's tip, the Demon Duke's silence. It was safe to assume that all five Dukes, at the very least, had been told something.
Outside their circle, however, nothing felt amiss. Even the Second Section Chief, who handled intelligence, knew nothing. When I casually sounded out the Intelligence Director a few days ago, he dodged every question. Information control had clearly gone into effect—except for the Dukes who stood just below the Emperor and a handful of departments that had operated in the North.
In a situation like this there was no way to dig anything up. If the Emperor had deliberately imposed an embargo and the Audit Department Chief defied it, my skull would be the first thing to crack.
Of all times.
I was going crazy. The armistice anniversary was almost upon us and I would have to go pay my respects—meeting those guys while this uneasy feeling hung over everything left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The North we had barely quieted by killing Kagan was growing restless again. How was I supposed to tell them that? With what face could I say that the peace bought with death looked ready to shatter once more?
I should have finished him off.
I rubbed the back of my neck and let out another sigh. If trouble was stirring in the North, that bastard Dorgon was surely the culprit.
I had clashed with him more times than I had fingers. Opportunities to kill him had been endless, yet I failed right up to the final moment, and now we were here. If any of the other Eight Steeds had survived instead, it would not have felt this hopeless.
The rest of the Eight Steeds were mere tribal chiefs or warriors; they lacked any claim to command the North. Dorgon, though, was the heir of the Gaar tribe that first unified the nomads, Kagan's own blood, one of the principal architects of the rebellion against the Empire. With titles like that plastered all over him, his very existence was a banner for anti-imperial sentiment.
If he rises in earnest, he'll pull together ten thousand at the very least.
At that scale a small elite force could never handle it. In this world no individual, no matter how gifted, could overcome a true host.
Kagan had nearly become the sole exception—an individual who bested an army—yet even he died, and the power of the group only stood out more starkly afterward. If the northern unrest spiraled into the worst case, the Empire would have to wring troops out of itself again a mere three years after the war. What a nightmare.
"Brother, we're here!"
"Ah, you're back?"
While I drummed my fingers on the desk, trying to sort my thoughts, the club members came pouring in after class.
Just wait.
I hastily smoothed my rigid expression into a smile. Waiting really was the best option. If thrashing about still yielded no information, the only course was to wait for the control to lift. Any strange movement would only buy me the Emperor's wrath.
And if—just if—someone decided the northern trouble could still be handled by a small elite force…
…Not that I was counting on it.
For the past few days I had worked hard to keep a smile on my face. The moment I let my features go blank, the Demon Duke started watching me carefully. That blank look was simply my default, but still.
I understood. She had been told something she was strictly forbidden to share, while her lover sat right there wanting—and unable—to hear it. How awkward must that feel? Personally she must have wanted to tell me, yet both of us knew that acting on private feelings in a matter of this magnitude would create endless headaches.
So what choice did I have? I simply kept smiling as if nothing were wrong. In truth I had already let go of any lingering desire to pierce the information blackout, so it really was nothing.
"Baby. I'm thinking of attending the memorial gathering this year. Won't you come with me?"
Instead she had given me the most she could manage: an indirect warning that the embargo would not lift before the memorial.
"I'd like that. I still haven't found a teleport mage. Thank you."
I expressed my gratitude with the same smile, and the Demon Duke smiled back.
All this trouble because of that bastard Dorgon. Making the Demon Duke uncomfortable for no good reason.
The World Tree affair the Audit Department Chief had stirred up was suddenly reduced to a "whatever" by the new crisis that erupted.
"With the return of Mukgwangdae, the Blue Claw Knight Order, and the Black Mane Knight Order as the final units, every force operating in the North has now withdrawn. Because the focus was placed entirely on a clean retreat, there are wounded, but no fatalities."
"See that treatment is given according to the severity of the wounds, not by rank."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Father Emperor answered the successful-withdrawal report with only a few words; the Minister of Special Affairs bowed and withdrew.
At least we had avoided the catastrophe of five years ago. The elite forces of the Ministry of Special Affairs—who would have performed countless feats had they entered a full war—had not been allowed to collapse for nothing. By that measure the response could be called successful.
…Successful, is it.
Attaching the word "success" to a unilateral retreat of Imperial forces made me feel, for a moment, thoroughly pathetic. Had I not been standing before Father Emperor I would have let out a hollow laugh.
But this was the North—no ordinary place. The North that had dealt the Empire heavier blows than even the wars with the eastern kingdoms, where the victory we finally claimed was less glorious triumph than barely escaping defeat. Even now the name "North" remained a nightmare for the Empire's leadership.
"Crown Prince."
"Yes, Father Emperor."
It was no different for Father Emperor; his face had grown even harder than before.
"Those who have never been bound will never unite. But those who have once been bound can unite a second time, and a third."
The remark might have seemed abrupt, yet it was aimed unmistakably at the northern nomads.
Because they had never once formed a single power, the nomads had always been crushed by the Empire or by the settled states that came before it. Then the Heaven-Defier unified them and raised the banner of rebellion. The rebellion itself failed, but the experience of unity and defiance did not vanish.
That was why Father Emperor treated the present crisis as a second Heaven-Defier incident. To assume that men who had once united and rebelled would never do so again was the height of folly.
"What, then, shall we do with those who forever seek to bind themselves together?"
I lowered my head. The man before me was no longer an aging monarch preparing to hand over power; he was the Empire's sole, absolute ruler waiting for his heir's answer.
"Punish them without mercy, so that they too understand they are nothing more than a single page in the Empire's long history."
Once they had been vicious enemies who threatened the Empire's Mandate of Heaven—foreign matter lodged in the North the Empire must one day claim. Against such foes compromise was unthinkable. It was a harsh reply.
For a ruler obliged to weigh every possibility and seek the best path, it might have been too headlong. Peaceful resolution might still exist.
"Our will is one with the Crown Prince's."
But that was the answer Father Emperor wanted.
Because it was the path that would proclaim the dignity of the Imperial House and the unshakable firmness of Heaven's Mandate.
The Minister had decided to prepare the Boyar Wine for the memorial himself.
The year before last I had volunteered, failed to find any on the open market, and ended up begging the Golden Duke. Last year both of us succeeded and we somehow wound up with twelve bottles. He must have decided it was better to handle it alone than risk a repeat of that farce.
"Have you packed everything?"
"I only need to show up in person. What else is there?"
Thanks to him I could travel light this year. Besides, it made more sense for someone already in the capital to prepare the offerings than for people coming from far away. Those guys would think the same.
And when else would I ever get to drink wine bought by my superior? Gerard had sworn up and down that once the war ended he would fleece the Minister's purse dry; being treated to Boyar Wine every year was basically having that wish granted.
"I'll get to see Eri again after so long."
Watching the Demon Duke smile so softly, I felt a fresh wave of wonder at the First Section Chief.
She had switched to calling the Demon Duke "unni" almost overnight and had even gotten the woman to use a nickname for her. Their only contact was through communication orbs, yet the intimacy had reached this level? Simply astonishing.
Did she charm the Crown Princess the same way?
I decided to leave it at that. If even the Demon Duke had been won over, the Crown Princess was hardly immune.
"Well then, shall we be off?"
"Yeah."
I nodded and took the hand the Demon Duke offered. A mage of her caliber could teleport others without physical contact, but holding hands was nicer. A little skinship now and then never hurt.
Still holding my hand, the Demon Duke hesitated a moment before speaking.
"But baby… if I go to that child's grave as well—"
"It's fine. We'll go another time."
I felt a little sorry for the careful way she had broached it, yet I refused firmly.
The child she meant was Hecate. I knew my lovers needed to visit her grave eventually, but now was not the moment.
"The Minister will be there for the memorial. It's a place to introduce my lovers; having my old superior present would make things strange, wouldn't it? Next time we'll pick a good day and go all together."
"…All right. If that's what you think, baby."
There was no need to turn an important occasion into something as casual as a clearance sale. Fortunately she understood and respected my wishes.
The picture really would be weird.
Introducing lovers at a memorial where the old boss was present. No matter how I looked at it, the image was just too strange. And tacking an extra purpose onto a memorial meant for those guys would have been disrespectful besides.
I would be in the capital during the vacation period anyway. We could go then.