Politics Is for the Weak (2)
If I wanted to pressure them politically, there are several ways to go about it.
I could secretly plant spies, dig up the local nobles' corrupt secrets and scandals, then hold their weaknesses over them and make them dance.
Or I could control the supplies and commerce entering their territories, economically starving them out.
Or, since it's wartime, I could simply frame them as Imperial spies. In a time rampant with anti-Empire sentiment, with a war already underway, there's no easier or more foolproof method than branding them branding them as Imperial pawns or traitors. The crowds, drunk on successive victory reports, would tear them apart.
'The fact that the people's sentiment towards my father and brother is so good definitely plays a part too.'
That's why it was so blatantly obvious that this recent move in the Commoners' Council had the local nobles' hands all over it.
They lack the justification to act directly themselves, and their public support is utterly insufficient. So it's a scheme to use me—whose stock has recently risen the highest—to incite division and re-disperse the power that's been concentrating towards the central government. The fact that they're resorting to this means they're quite cornered. It would be easy to pressure them politically, but...
'Why the hell would I bother?'
No matter how easy it is to pressure them politically, it takes a hell of a lot of time. You have to go through proper legal procedures, and it's bound to be endless, tedious paperwork and meetings.
'Just imagining it is boring and exhausting.'
On the other hand, what if my soldiers and knights just stormed into the local nobles' territories with guns and cannons?
'Just imagining it is awesome.'
As expected, when strength is lacking, the head has to suffer.
'...Was the Empire's head lacking because it had too much strength?'
I stopped my imagination, which was about to touch upon the fundamental truth of this world, looked at Elisa, and opened my mouth.
“Let's finish things up here and return to the capital. Make the preparations for departure so we can hand over immediately the moment Brother Kael arrives.”
“Understood. How will you be responding to their provocation?”
“I'm not going to bother with politics that gives me a headache. I'm just going to charge in.”
“That is certainly a good method.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Yes. Considering the military power you currently possess, there's no need to play along to their tune. Furthermore, it will damage your reputation far more than solving it politically, which will push you one step further away from the succession to the throne—just as you desired.”
“Th-That's true…”
I hadn't thought that far ahead. Listening to Elisa, it really was a plan that precisely aligned with my goals. From the local nobles' perspective, they wouldn't bother trying to use a dangerous person who might do anything if things went wrong. And the public opinion of the commoners who had built up illusions about me would calm down a bit too. I would simply be an unreasonable prince who shoves a gun in people's faces instead of opting for dialogue and compromise.
“Then I'd better finish things up here first. Where's Seria?”
“Lady Seria is currently at the Knight Prisoner Camp.”
“Oh? That works out well.”
The Knight Prisoner Camp currently holds the 32 surviving knights who served under Margrave Kraus. Come to think of it, I heard the wyvern chicken was being served for lunch today. Wyvern meat in this world tastes remarkably similar to chicken on Earth, so fried chicken made from wyvern meat is incredibly delicious.
'And even juicier.'
We caught quite a lot of wyverns with Seria the other day, so while there isn't enough for all the soldiers, there's more than enough to distribute among the knights.
'We haven't had lunch yet either, so should we just go eat there?'
I licked my lips and looked at Elisa.
“Elisa, you haven't had lunch yet either, right?”
“Yes. I still have a little paperwork to finish.”
“Then let's go eat lunch.”
“Pardon?”
“I'm saying let's go to the camp together. I heard the wyvern chicken is today's special.”
“Understood.”
She quickly organized her papers and got ready to leave. Even Elisa, who usually seems so calm and composed, really loves the food I make. Even with the same expressionless face, she couldn't hide the subtle twitch at the corners of her mouth and the sparkle in her eyes.
“Ready? Let's go.”
“Yes.”
Elisa and I headed straight for the camp. The reason we were going to the camp instead of the dining hall was simple: we were short on manpower, so we didn't have the luxury of sitting down leisurely to enjoy a meal.
'Work is piled up like a mountain.'
I felt bad about it, but handling meals and work simultaneously on-site was the best we could do.
'This feels like a black company.'
Fortunately, labor laws haven't been clearly established here yet, so it's not illegal.
Lost in such thoughts, I soon arrived at the exclusive Knight Prisoner Camp. As I walked inside, I saw Seria's silhouette sitting on a chair placed right in front of an iron cell.
“Seria, we're here.”
“Huh?!”
Startled by my voice, Seria jumped up from her chair and spun around.
“Mrmph… L-Lord Commander, you've arrived!”
“Uh… yeah. You were eating.”
At my flustered voice, Seria flinched, then hurriedly chewed the food bursting from her squirrel-like puffed cheeks and swallowed it down in a gulp.
“My… my deepest apologies! To be seen in such a state while in your presence…”
Bowing her head hastily to show respect, the corners of her mouth were slick and shining with the red sauce and grease from the wyvern chicken.
“No, it's fine to eat. First, wipe your mouth.”
Elisa sighed silently, walked over, and handed her a handkerchief. Seria's face reddened all the way to the tips of her ears as she hurriedly wiped her mouth.
“…But why were you eating in front of the cell? There's a table right behind you.”
“Well, actually…”
Seria wiped her mouth with the handkerchief, hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat and spoke.
“The Imperial Army's rations are so horrendous and tasteless that they feel like chewing sand. Therefore, I judged that eating delicious, freshly fried meat right in front of them, wafting the aroma, would be more effective at breaking their spirits than any other form of torture.”
'Ah, so she was conducting food torture.'
Checking the cell behind Seria, it seemed to have been quite effective. 'That guy is actually drooling.'
“Any progress?”
“It seems a little insufficient… They are still refusing the oath.”
“They were sworn to Margrave Kraus, right?”
“Yes. I confirmed that the Oath of Mana was severed upon Margrave Kraus's death.”
The Oath of Mana is convenient, but it has its flaws. As it's a powerful contract that binds the mana of the one who swears it, it also imposes a burden on the recipient to maintain that connection. This is exactly why there is a clear limit to the number of oaths one person can receive.
'You mustn't recklessly accept oaths that exceed your own vessel.'
Fortunately, perhaps because I am a reincarnated being, my vessel is a bit larger than others'.
'Being to handle both Aura and a Mana Circle is probably for a similar reason.'
Currently, a total of 55 people have sworn the oath to me. First is Elisa. Second are the 53 knights, including Seria. And finally, Roxanna.
Swearing the oath with Roxanna was a pure accident. When we were children, we used to play knights together often. I never dreamed in my wildest dreams that the oath she made as a joke would actually bind itself as a true Oath of Mana. Perhaps it was because we were both at an age where we couldn't handle mana properly yet. Roxanna's playful vow ended up connecting into a real Oath of Mana.
'Looking back, the content of the oath is really embarrassing.'
"I will always do my best, only for you."
...was it. Anyway, just thinking about how much that incident turned my father and the elders of Roxanna's household upside down still sends a shiver down my spine.
Let's move on from the past.
Back to reality. The knights inside the cell still couldn't take their eyes off the bowl of chicken Seria had been eating.
'The smell of that chicken is driving them insane.'
As I was thinking that, the knights closest to the bars glared at me bloodshot eyes and shouted.
“Isn't this method of torture too damn petty…! Just kill us instead!”
“That's right! Flaunting meat in front of starving men! You Kingdom bastards are truly despicable!”
“Do not insult the knights of the Empire!”
“You piece of Kingdom trash…!”
'…Prisoners talking back?'
Defeated soldiers talking back. In Earth's Middle Ages, this would have been completely unimaginable. Familiarity breeds contempt, I suppose. It seems we've been way too soft on them.
Without a word, I pulled out the musket from my belt.
*Click.*
*Bang!*
The moment the familiar metallic sound made the Empire's knights flinch, an explosion ripped through the air of the enclosed camp.
“Eeek…!”
“Th… That thing…”
The fired bullet left the hands gripping the bars and buried itself into the ground between his legs. The deafening roar and the stench of gunpowder—the same ones that had so mercilessly torn through their comrades' bodies on the battlefield—came rushing back. The knights trembled and sank to the floor, reliving the memories of that day.
I looked down at their trembling forms and spoke in a low voice.
“It seems you don't understand your situation.”
I continued, slowly moving the barrel towards their foreheads.
“The torture is too petty? want me to just kill you? If you wish, I'll grant your wish right now.”
I slowly drew up the Mana Circle seated in my heart and the Aura in my dantian, radiating an overwhelming pressure that felt like it was crushing the entire space.
'This should make me look like an Expert.'
“Will you swear the Oath of Mana and live? Or will you keep your pathetic pride and die here with your head blown off? Make your choice. Right. Now.”
I scanned their faces one by one and added.
“I'll give you exactly three seconds to choose. Three.”