Strategy Change (Revised)
Strategy Change (Revised)
"Ugh."
I woke up with a weird noise. What time was it?
My head felt wrecked from yesterday's heavy drinking. I'd meant to pace myself to my limit at first, but I failed. I hadn't expected it to be so strong that I got tipsy after one glass.
And yet it tasted like juice, which made it addictive. In the end, I knew what I was doing but kept drinking until the film cut off, but....
Still, it wasn't as if I couldn't remember the conversation I'd had with Rote. Well, of course I remembered. What kind of race were the Gold-Eye Tribe, after all?
Having organized my thoughts, I folded at the waist with my eyes still closed. Last night's conversation replayed itself naturally in my head, which left me restless.
Who could've guessed that House Saliere was conducting nuclear physics research? No, wait, magic arts were mainstream here, so I should probably call it Nuclear Magic Engineering.
Either way, this wasn't a welcome situation. Even granting that we managed to catch the Demon King somehow, I was worried about what came after.
But if that was the case, it would probably be better for me to warn them about the dangers from the start. That was why I taught Rote the hydrogen bomb design method. Though, given the late hour, I didn't go into detail.
The people of this world weren't fools, either. It was a tactical weapon that would be developed someday, even without me. If it was a disaster destined to be created, wasn't it the duty of someone with experience to properly supervise it from this end?
I'd be busy from here on. I tidied away the rest of my thoughts and slowly opened my eyes.
"Whoa."
My eyes must really have been dry. They felt like they were cracking apart like dried grass roots.
I rubbed my eyelids firmly and looked around. Only then did I realize that someone was lying right next to me.
What?
An ominous feeling brushed past both cheeks. My face was still flushed, probably from the wine.
I slowly lowered my head. Then
I slowly lowered my head. Then Rote came squarely into view, asleep with her shirt collar half-unbuttoned.
"Ah?"
An unformed, stupid voice leaked out. My mind went completely blank.
Could I really have caused an accident?
No. More importantly, why was I in the bed? I'd definitely fallen asleep slumped over the desk.
I replayed the events of the early morning. No matter how much I ruminated, I had no memory of sleeping in the same bed as Rote.
Had I done something while the film was cut? If so, that was genuinely heinous.
I propped my chin on my hand and chewed my fingernails. That was strange. Nothing came to mind no matter how hard I thought.
Alright, I needed to calm down. If I couldn't remember the exact situation, I had to deduce it from indirect circumstances.
I checked my clothing first. That was good; only five buttons of my pajamas were undone.
"Huh?"
Was it five?
"Uh, mmm.... What's wrong?"
Right on cue, the key figure to this mystery woke up. Rote lifted her head and brushed her tangled hair behind her ear. She blinked her sleepy eyes and greeted me.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Is something wrong...? Oh."
She seemed to have noticed that this situation was off, too. Rote swallowed a hollow breath and sprang up from the spot. Then she immediately returned to her own bed.
Rote hugged her blanket and looked at me with embarrassed eyes.
"Sorry... I meant to lay you down and sleep here, but I just."
"Ah, well...."
Right. That could happen. That wasn't what I was questioning.
"But who undid my buttons? I'm pretty sure I buttoned them all to sleep."
"Th-that! I undid them because I was worried you'd have trouble breathing.... Ah, nothing happened! You know that? Yeah...."
Seeing her babble like that, she hadn't sobered up yet either.
I thought about this matter for a moment before realizing it was pointless, and I decided to just file it under unwritten rules. Judging from Rote's desperate attempt to explain, nothing weird seemed to have happened.
And I didn't have time to make a fuss over something like this. I cooled my head and spoke again.
"That aside. Do you remember the conversation the two of us had yesterday?"
"Huh? Yeah."
"Then pass the message along to the Count."
Now that things had come to this, I couldn't afford to waste a single second.
**
"The Count says you may enter."
The moment the maid's permission was given, I stepped into the office where the Count was. As always, my eyes landed on a capable civil servant reading multiple documents at once and stamping seals without a moment's rest.
"Thank you for making time for me amidst your busy schedule."
"Nonsense. How could I not spare a moment for my daughter's friend?"
Count Saliere smiled lightly and set down the papers. Seeing that he wore the exact same expression Rote often did, I felt sure they were father and daughter.
"Is the flood recovery going well?"
"It's going well, save for the damage being a little greater than in previous years. This region is like this every year, so we'd already put some preparations in place from the start."
"That's a relief."
I paused for a moment, then continued.
"I had a serious conversation with your daughter yesterday. She said that you, Count, had succeeded in the research to refine the pitchblende magic stones."
"Indeed."
"Yes, I was very surprised, not knowing you were working on such a thing. But are you sure it's fine to share a secret you've been researching alone with an outsider?"
"Heh-heh. An adult who looks at the answer key claiming they'll grade a math workbook doesn't get scolded, do they?"
"You flatter me."
Ah, I understood. So that was how it was.
This man had noticed that I already knew the method for refining pitchblende. Either he was very observant, or he'd heard it from Rote; it was one of the two.
"You look curious as to how I knew."
"Yes, I am. Since I never mentioned it to anyone."
"Flare."
"...Pardon?"
Count Saliere grinned and picked up his next words.
"Do you know how many citations the paper you published has?"
"Ah... Hmm?"
I hadn't checked the academic society since I'd screwed over Professor Haspelt.
"Over a hundred, at the very least. And I myself am counted among them, of course."
"You read the one on the Maso-Energy Exchange Theorem."
The Maso-Energy Exchange Theorem, the general theory underpinning Flare. As the name suggested, it was the principle that mana particles could turn into energy, and energy could turn back into mana particles.
That principle formed the theory for constructing a Flare that corresponded to a high-power laser, but at the same time, in this world, it was also the principle for making a nuclear bomb. The science of the other world and the magic of this world differed little by little in such ways.
"When I created the refining machine and ground up the magic stones to obtain powder, I thought this was something similar to gunpowder. And right then, you published that paper."
A mage who could build a machine to refine uranium would naturally be proficient in reading papers as well.
Calculating the nuclear weapon yield based on the information I wrote would have been a doable task.
"Right. That would have been another reason for you."
The Count rose from his seat and showed me the refining machine. It was an elaborate device, just as I'd heard from Rote. That he'd built something like this inside his own home was very intriguing.
Ah, maybe it wasn't that impossible. I myself had the experience of building a simple particle accelerator back when I was an undergrad, after all.
I examined every corner of the machine's structure with a serious look. Then the Count threw out a remark in jest.
"Since I've shown you this, you really ought to become my successor. If you're amenable, would you like to become my foster daughter?"
"Ahaha... I'm grateful just for the words."
Anyway, keeping this at home was a fairly dangerous thing. I asked the Count.
"Father, when you handle the magic stones, do you touch them with your bare hands?"
"Ordinarily, yes. The refined stones might be a different story, but the unrefined stones didn't seem particularly dangerous."
Oh dear.
"How long has it been?"
"For the serious research, nearly ten years, perhaps?"
"From now on, you must never touch them with your bare hands."
"Is there a problem?"
"Pitchblende emits a weak mana radiation wave. That means it's toxic. Ten years might be fine, but if you handle it for twenty or thirty years, chronic fatigue could build up in your body and cause health issues."
The Count looked surprised at my words. He hurriedly closed the door to the room with the refining machine and washed his hands with a cleansing scroll.
"You know such things?"
"Yes. It's information I picked up from people back home."
Was there any modern person who didn't know uranium was dangerous? So it wasn't exactly a lie.
I soon received a sheet of paper and a quill from the Count. I meticulously derived every formula leading from the Maso-Energy Exchange Theorem to the Bethe-Feynman Equation, then plugged in suitable values from there to calculate a result.
"I did something similar for Rote yesterday. Now both you and your daughter know the explosive power of pitchblende."
"So it was this dangerous an object."
While Count Saliere was deep in thought, I borrowed a ruler and compass as well. Then I took out a map with a detailed scale. On the map, the major roads and topography were drawn with the Empire at the center.
"Physical meanings like blast radius are better understood through pictures than numbers. Look here."
The spot I indicated was the imperial capital, Philiut.
"Pitchblende can be used as a bomb on its own, but with the help of Air Magic, you can also create a far more powerful magic-artillery weapon. Here, I'll assume that design and show you roughly what the fireball radius looks like at this amount of explosive force."
I measured the map once more. I planted one end of the compass at the center of the capital. The exact location of the imperial palace.
"The imperial capital has a rotationally symmetric structure centered on the Imperial Household. The main roads extend radially, correct?"
"Correct."
"This structure is extremely vulnerable to large-scale explosions. The flames will spread mercilessly along the main roads."
Swish.
I drew a line segment with the ruler. Calculating from the scale, it came to a little over 8 kilometers. When I rotated the compass to draw a small circle, not only the entire capital but every suburban city fell within it.
"If I draw the blast radius according to the earlier calculation...."
"Y-you mean this is the maximum damage range?"
"No."
Looking at the flustered Count Saliere, I continued in a calm, measured tone.
"For starters, you can assume everyone in this circle is dead."