This Country Is Simply Hopeless (1)
I had never been one to put much stock in talk of reincarnation or souls.
I'd brushed all of it aside as nothing more than occult nonsense and lived an perfectly ordinary life. And yet, upon arriving where I am now, there was exactly one reason why I'd come to believe in reincarnation.
Because I had reincarnated myself, that's why.
Rhine Bias, crown prince of a shabby little city-state straight out of the Middle Ages. That was the new identity fate had handed me.
"Has it really been fifteen years already?"
Fifteen years ago, I had begun my second life in the body of a prince. To be precise, I was reborn as the first prince of the Bartia Kingdom.
Bartia was a nation of barely forty thousand souls — small enough that calling it a kingdom felt almost embarrassing. Its level of civilization lagged somewhere near the medieval era, and with no notable resources to speak of, it was a quiet little place that got by on farming. That was the reality of the Bartia Kingdom.
"……"
And yet this country was one of the most talked-about nations on the continent.
A people derided and pointed at as descendants of demons by the nations that worshipped the Church of the High God. A top-priority target for invasion, attacked time and again by crusades raised in the name of holy war. The reputation of the Mertians — who made up the vast majority of the kingdom's population — was simply that dire.
"Why do the kingdoms of the continent hate our country so much?"
I voiced the worry gnawing at me to my attendant.
To slander and persecute such innocent, kind-hearted Mertians as descendants of demons — it was a behavior I found impossible to understand. At least, the Bartia Kingdom I'd seen wandering through the city myself looked nothing like anything demonic.
"There's nowhere more peaceful in all the world, if you ask me."
This country was nothing more than an ordinary land that just happened to lie a little close to the Demonic Realm. Good air, good water, warm-hearted people — a pleasant small town. That was the verdict I'd reached after fifteen years of watching Bartia.
"Your Highness, pay no mind to what outsiders think of us."
The attendant bowed his head and offered me a small word of advice — essentially, don't let their gaze wound you.
"Still, the way they keep invading us under the banner of holy war is going too far. Is not converting to the Church of the High God really such a terrible sin?"
"Even if we did convert, they would never accept it."
"Well… fair point."
What the attendant said was, admittedly, quite logical. The difference in religion was merely a convenient excuse for hatred. Even if we did convert, they would never let go of their loathing for the Mertians.
"We've already built up a grudge too deep to undo with a simple change of faith."
The nations of the continent needed an object of hatred — a wicked enemy to unite them under the banner of religion. Over the long centuries, that need was what must have transformed the Mertians into so-called descendants of demons.
"Is this endless cycle of hatred with the Church of the High God's nations something that can never be broken?"
Just then, as I was gazing up at the sky with a troubled face —
Trudge, trudge.
An attendant with a familiar face came hurrying toward me at a panicked pace.
"Your Highness! Crown Prince Rhine!"
"What is it?"
"His Majesty requests your presence at once!"
My father, the King of Bartia, was calling for me. I asked the attendant straight away.
"On what business?"
"Well… His Majesty has taken gravely ill, you see—"
"What?"
When I heard the attendant's report, I stared at him with wide eyes. Apparently, I needed to pay a visit to my father's chambers.
The royal chamber was filled with luxurious silk. Looking down at His Majesty groaning in the midst of it all, the very first thought that crossed my mind was a single one.
He looks like he could easily live another ten years, doesn't he?
He certainly looked the part of a patient, but no matter how you sliced it, he seemed robust enough to last a good decade more. As if reading my thoughts—
Tap, tap.
His Majesty, who had been drumming his fingers on the blanket, looked at me and spoke.
"Rhine…"
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"There is something deeply irreverent in your eyes."
I dutifully took my father's hand where he lay in his sickbed, cradling it with all the tender care I could muster.
"I've been so worried about you…"
"Enough of that."
Smack.
His Majesty, lying there in bed, flicked my hand away with a surprisingly vigorous one. Apparently he didn't much care for a man gripping his hand with soft, sympathetic eyes.
"There is one reason I called you here."
And with that, the great monarch who led the Mertian people cut straight to the point. Cough, cough. With a face that looked only slightly fatigued, he spoke through a phlegm-rattled cough.
"Handle the affairs of state in my stead for a while."
What came out of His Majesty's mouth was utterly shocking. Handle state affairs in his place, for the time being. In other words: play king until he recovered from his illness.
"But, Your Majesty, in your weakened state, how could I possibly—"
Naturally, having no desire whatsoever to do any actual governing, I declined with the utmost politeness. But His Majesty seized my wrist with a grip like iron and said:
"I've tolerated you lazing about like some idle playboy long enough. Isn't it about time you pulled yourself together?"
Krrrunch.
His Majesty's eyes bore into mine as his hand crushed around my arm. Reflected in those eyes was unmistakably the image of a boy perilously close to being a good-for-nothing layabout.
Mmngh.
I held my breath and tried to pry his hand off, but for some reason, that grip didn't budge so much as a hair.
What the— why won't it come off?
How did a man supposedly gravely ill have this much strength? If I kept struggling, my arm was going to come off before his hand did. In the end, I gave up on escape and quietly listened to His Majesty's tale.
"Rhine. At your age, I marched boldly into a neighboring country and raided myself a bride."
"We had a custom like that?"
I expressed my confusion at this entirely new information. His Majesty, naturally, brushed right past it as though it were common knowledge.
"It's a virtue every Bartian man must possess."
"Aha…"
A whole new side of the Bartia Kingdom I'd never known. I was beginning to get some idea of where the neighboring nations' hatred came from.
"And any royal worth his blood ought to raid himself the wife of a high noble at the very least."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing makes another man's wife look more charming, after all."
Besides which, His Majesty had somewhat peculiar tastes. I was beginning to get a fairly good idea of where the neighboring nations' hatred came from.
"You're only recognized as a man once you've stolen a marchioness or better, you see."
"……"
"Back then, food was running short, so I just sent troops to whatever territory came first and figured I'd—"
No, at this point I simply knew where the hatred came from. There was no further need to listen. Looking at it objectively, not hating us would have been the strange thing.
I quietly revised my assessment of the Mertians in my head. Maybe not quite descendants of demons — but you could probably get away with calling them the living embodiment of barbarism.
And with that, I subtly slid my arm out of His Majesty's grip.
"If you refuse to govern, then go out and raid yourself a bride instead. And by the way, your old father here has been hoping you'd bring home a duchess—"
"I will attend to the affairs of state."
I declared, right to His Majesty's face, that I would govern. It couldn't be helped. Playing king was far more reasonable than marching off to a battlefield.
Because I was a rational man, after all. And I intended to run this country as rationally as I could manage. To somehow fix up this barbaric nation.
How hard could running a country really be, in the end? As long as no major problems cropped up, I figured things would sail along smoothly.
So it was, on my very first day striding into the great hall in His Majesty's stead, brimming with confidence —
that I came face to face with a bomb.
"Your Highness! Urgent report — the Holy See is organizing the 21st Crusade!"
"What—?!"
A righteous crusade, assembled to punish the barbaric kingdom. Haah. At the news, the ministers of the great hall let out a collective, mournful sigh.
My very first day on the job, and I was facing a wartime crisis. This was the worst possible scenario, and one I'd never seen coming.
"How large is the enemy force?"
Gripping my throbbing head, I asked the chancellor about its size. And before long, a staggering answer came out of the chancellor's mouth.
"They say this crusade will muster no fewer than thirty thousand troops!"
"Haah…"
"A full thirty thousand, haah…"
The enemy numbered a full thirty thousand. A figure comparable to the entire population of the Bartia Kingdom, forty thousand souls. Even starting conscription right now, we'd be hard-pressed to gather half their number.
In a word, this was a crisis bordering on the extinction of the Bartia Kingdom itself.
"Thirty thousand? Is that true?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Hoo.
I let out a long sigh and lowered my head. Then, with a heart full of turmoil, I quietly muttered to myself.
"Thirty thousand… this is serious…"
"Haah…"
"Truly serious, haah…"
Hmm.
Something about this felt off.
"……"
Something was wrong. Something in this great hall was broken.
I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but there was an uncanny, almost unbearable sense of wrongness in the air. Half out of suspicion, I addressed the ministers once more.
"A full thirty thousand… I confess I haven't the faintest idea how we could hold them back…"
The moment the words left my mouth, the ministers answered with anguish written across their faces.
"Thirty thousand, haah…"
"Haah…"
"Whatever shall we do, haah…"
One of the ministers, nodding his head, met my eyes. Blink, blink. The man's gaze gazed blankly into mine for a moment—
and then he quietly bowed his head once more.
"Haah…"
There was no longer any reason whatsoever to continue this council.
CRASH! Clatter-rattle—
CRASH BANG—!
A hail of objects came flying at the ministers. I seized everything within arm's reach and hurled it, driving them out of the great hall by force.
"You useless parasites sucking this nation dry! Every last one of you, GET OUT!"
"Haah…"
"Parasites, he says… this truly is a disaster, haah…"
Something about this country was broken.
That was the thought I had, on the very first day I served as regent of the realm.