One Step to the Great War (1)
[5 Hours Ago]
Home invasion. Not the kind where your wife heads back to her parents' house, but the kind where the sovereign personally leads a punitive expedition—and this was something that had actually happened a few times in Earth's history. Usually, it was founding emperors or conquerors who employed this "home invasion" policy.
The two words cut through the galaxy in no time at all. Quantum entanglement communications rode the gate network to warp relay stations, then to each star system's communication satellites, reaching the entire core territory of the empire in under a few hours. Including the border regions.
It was that important. Excluding the founding emperor, no one had properly done a home invasion since, nor felt the need to. Not even during the Great War under the previous emperor.
But declaring one just to smash the Kamf fleet that had popped up on a border planet? It was so astonishing that within hours, the six words "Kaius VIII Declares Home Invasion" spread everywhere.
The reaction was explosive. Like a chain reaction, one stimulus triggered the next, which triggered the next, spreading geometrically across the empire.
"Wh-what the hell? Why are there so many?!"
"Holy..."
The Primus Arm's 17th Recruitment Center was usually a laid-back, idle spot where maybe one or two people showed up a day. The recruiter would drone on about the glorious opportunity to serve the empire by shipping off to some backwater planet, but most citizens dreamed of a future under a bold, reformist emperor—and that future didn't include their kids getting limbs hacked off by xenos or some "who the hell are you?" ending.
So the usual recruits were the kind of patriotic mad dogs who burned with zeal even in peacetime. But...
"This is insane!!!"
Today, for whatever reason, thousands of people lined up in front of the center like it was a queue. "Line" might be too tame; it was a full-on crowd. By 6 a.m., half an hour before opening, thousands had gathered. By afternoon, it swelled to tens of thousands. And it wasn't just the young.
"Uh, n-no, who...?"
When a 190-year-old retired Navy sergeant major hobbled up with his cane, the recruiting officer and NCOs couldn't hide their shock. He looked like a living piece of Navy history. The old man, with a beard down to his chest, told the intake NCO:
"I've come to take up arms for His Majesty again."
The flustered NCO replied, "Sir, th-thank you, but there's an age limit for active duty..."
"They said the same thing when I boarded the Krog war clan's flagship ten years ago—at 180. The admiral herself called me up and said, 'Age is just a number.'"
"Th-that admiral... was she...?"
"Selene Astraea. Admiral of the 5th Fleet... It was her first year in command, too."
The intake NCO shut his mouth. Before the legendary admiral's name, regulations lost all power.
It wasn't just Primus Arm. In Secundus Arm, merchant guild chairman Farid al-Hakim showed up at a Navy base with a list of 300 cargo ships.
"Requisition them all. Use them for logistics."
"Huh?! All of them?"
The base commander asked, "Won't that disrupt your guild's trade volume?"
"His Majesty picked up the sword himself—should a merchant worry about money? If the empire falls, merchants are done for, and the xenos who want to turn us into ground meat won't spare us. For patriotism and eternal capital, I'll gladly give mine."
"Well... y-yes. Th-thank you for cooperating...?"
Guys who'd normally wail and grab pant legs screaming "No, you can't do that!! No trickle-down!" had suddenly turned patriotic, offering up everything.
In Tertius Arm's border sector, 80 armed merchant ships—meant for anti-pirate defense—formed up and reported to a Navy base. The convoy leader commed:
"Incorporate us into His Majesty's fleet. We've got firepower! Hahaha!!"
The base commander checked: "C-civilian armed ships can't be directly integrated per regs..."
"Regs? Did His Majesty stay out of battle because of regs?"
The commander was speechless.
Even in Quartus Arm's pirate-hunting zone, bounty hunter groups turned themselves in: "We'll join His Majesty's war." Legally messy, so commanders tore their hair out—but inwardly, seeing the empire united like this after so long brought smiles.
All these reports flooded the bridge of the Leviathan-class Aegis.
I read them with initial glee.
"Heh... Turns out they're not all show muscle after all?"
890 trillion imperial citizens rising for their emperor. Because I was heading to war, civilians were volunteering en masse. Proof of trust in the emperor, the empire's cohesion, the realization of MEGA spirit.
How could this not be a rush?
In this touching historic moment—old, young, merchants, pirate hunters all rushing to recruit centers—I suddenly snapped awake like I'd taken the red pill.
"Who handles the paperwork for all these volunteers?"
Something's off. Thousands at a center means enlistment forms, physicals, gear issuance, unit assignments—tons of docs. Even with AI and Excel, millions at once...?
"Uh...?"
Then the dread hit.
Civilian ship requisitions? All voluntary and en masse. Bounty hunters self-surrendering? No precedent, so new forms from scratch. Imagining the volume made my skin crawl.
"What the hell. Work's piling up more than planned... It's only been a month since enthronement, but this..."
Not "seems like"—it had increased. Quantifiably.
I'd gone to war to escape paperwork, but war was generating it. War prep is a paperwork machine, but I declared home invasion, citizens got inspired, volunteered, creating paperwork. So, my fault. Self-inflicted.
"Kreuz."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Alexandria Kreuz, my Guard Fleet adjutant. Stiff and by-the-book, as befits the Guard.
"These volunteer enlistments and civilian ship requisitions."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Delegate them all to the discretion of each recruitment center and Navy base commanders."
Her eyes widened. "...Without Your Majesty's approval?"
"Yes."
"Per regs, final volunteer approval is by the supreme commander, Your Majesty..."
"Adjutant Kreuz."
"Yes."
"Do you know how many hours I've slept?"
"...I'll check."
"Four. Over two days. If I approve tens of thousands like this, I'll die. I... don't want to die working."
Fuck, I hope you get how serious I am. My goal isn't working till I drop.
She shut up. My dark circles down to my jaw were more convincing than logic.
"Delegate to base commanders' judgment. Issue as imperial administrative order."
"...Understood."
Thus, the administrative order was drafted. With the fancy title Emergency Delegation Order on Volunteer Enlistments and Civilian Asset Requisitions, and the ornate content 『Final approval authority for volunteer intakes and civilian ship requisitions is delegated to commanders of all military bases and recruitment centers; post-action reports waived.』 It looked legit.
Sorry, commanders. But you're dozens; I'm one. Distributed processing is basic.
After sending, I leaned back, savoring brief paperwork-free peace.
Once the imperial delegation order hit recruitment centers, another chain reaction rippled through base commanders empire-wide.
Primus Arm 17th Recruitment Center CO, Colonel Hans Brücker, rushed over on hearing, read it, set down his datapad, and teared up.
"Sniff..."
His adjutant brought coffee: "Colonel, you okay?"
"His Majesty... trusts us."
"Pardon?"
"Look at this order. He delegated his own approval authority to us!! To all of us!"
The adjutant reread: "Isn't it just task delegation? He's at war, physically can't approve—"
"No."
Brücker shook his head firmly. "Think. Does he stop for location? The man who never rests for reform—why stop in a warship?"
"W-well, true..."
"Exactly. And where's he going now?"
"To TR-7742..."
"Why?"
"Border planet governor rejected policy—"
"Right. Personally punishing the betrayer who defied His Majesty, exploited citizens, sparked war. In that situation!"
He tapped the order. "He delegated to us. Means 'You're not betrayers; you're trustworthy. But subjects and citizens aren't as forgiving as me—earn that trust.' Sword to traitors, trust to loyalists. That's His Majesty's way."
The adjutant thought, Seems like he just offloaded 'cause he's busy... but kept it in.
Regardless, Brücker's interpretation spread as gospel empire-wide.
Likewise, Secundus Arm 9th Navy Base CO, Rear Admiral Maria Chen: "His Majesty trusts even ordinary sinners, gives them chances. We must repay that! Suspicion stains don't wash out with OrcSoksok Clean...!"
Her adjutant: "Ordinary evil?"
"Humans are lazy, selfish, mistake-prone. Even without Grayburn extremes, we all have petty evils. He understands those weaknesses, trusts anyway. Punishes not, gives chances! Ahh...!"
"...Impressive interpretation."
"Not interpretation—fact. Live to my age, you'll see. Why delegate otherwise? He could approve directly for certainty."
The adjutant conceded it made sense.
Ironically, Leo's laziness-boosted morale. Commanders, fired by "repay His Majesty's trust," processed volunteers faster, more efficiently—halving usual time. Ship requisitions sped up too.
War prep doubled in pace. Like shouting "Who's the ace to smash that commie bird empire?!" and everyone yelling "Us!" Not forced—purely voluntary.
Meanwhile, Leviathan-class Aegis bridge. After the order, I handled other tasks.
"Forge planet needs ample supplies. Send what we brought, volunteers', and use mine if short."
"Your benevolence is boundless!"
I'm eating fine. Skipping some won't kill me.
Then an addendum report:
'What the...?'
"???"
What happened while I was gone?
"????"
Senate abolition? I slaved in paperwork hell to empower them—legislative initiative, prime minister creation, governor confirmations—all to the Senate. Now scrap it? From the MEGA committee chair claiming loyalty?
I rubbed my forehead, set the report down, stared at the ceiling.
Where the hell did this go wrong?
Wrong from the start?
Did I whip too hard?
Beasts knowing slaughter resist. My endless "you're dead" threats sparked resistance there too.
But war now—no time to fix.
Right. Handle this one thing, come back, sort it. Then...
I shoved the report aside, refocused on ops planning.
Senate gone means all paperwork to my desk?!
Oh fuck. No.
Please.
I prayed inwardly.
Please spin yourselves out.
This wasn't what I wanted.