Military Buildup - 3
Rio asked in a voice thick with fury, “So this is your answer, brother?”
Richard shrugged. “Well, I don’t see any particular problem with it.”
“There is a problem! Of course there is!”
Rio practically leapt out of his skin at Richard’s declaration that they must go to war, his rage exploding like wildfire. Richard truly had nothing to say in return. Dissolving five standing battalions was little different from abandoning law and order in the provinces. Yet he could hardly turn to a parliament that might be harboring traitors. And come winter, war had to be declared.
The previous victory had been incomplete; they had failed to achieve any of the original strategic objectives. Though Richard had claimed the throne, he had not accomplished the most critical goal: the complete eradication of Malong’s threat. Sooner or later they would have to fight Malong again, and the incident two weeks earlier had proven beyond doubt that the danger was far closer than anyone had imagined. The fact that Rio knew all this and still spoke as he did felt almost like a betrayal to Richard.
He protested, “But Rio, you agreed to the war, didn’t you?”
“I did. But I agreed to war, not to shaking down the councilors and looting the monasteries. And I suspect His Excellency the Chancellor feels the same. Isn’t that right?”
The spark flew in an unexpected direction—straight toward Herbert. The man looked startled, setting down the documents he had been reading.
“No, I don’t particularly share that view, Your Highness.”
“What?”
Rio’s anger flared again. Herbert raised a calming hand.
“The Kingdom of Zylan is a small nation.”
“What!”
This time it was Richard who flared up at Herbert’s words.
“Though Zylan is a kingdom, its population is only a quarter that of Derim and does not even double the size of Count Malong’s domain.”
“But my kingdom is united, while Derim is fractured among dozens of lords besides Malong.”
“Your Majesty is of course correct. Yet please recall that in the era of Her Majesty Selina II, Zylan was far more unified and Derim far more divided—and still Her Majesty lost a considerable portion of her holdings inside Derim. In my estimation, the cause of those successive defeats was a six-fold disparity in mobilization capacity.”
Regrettably, the observation was not wrong, and it was a factor Richard always kept foremost in mind when drafting foreign strategy. Still, having a foreign-born archbishop point out his country’s weaknesses was an intensely unpleasant experience.
“So you’re saying we should not fight this war?”
Richard could have listed a dozen more reasons why they must. That very disparity in population was precisely why war had to come now. Battlefields inevitably brought devastation, and devastation reduced populations. Malong—and its suzerain Derim—could never be Zylan’s friends. Therefore, provided victory could be assured, the battlefield must lie in Derim, preferably in Malong itself.
Naturally, the possibility of defeat did not exist in Richard’s calculations. Zylan’s knights might be few, but they were renowned across the continent for their singular bravery, and its common soldiers ranked among the finest. Moreover, the supreme commander who led them was none other than Richard himself—the greatest knight in the three continents. Herbert’s remark, therefore, irritated him more than a little.
Richard’s anger burned hot. Had this been only a short while ago, Herbert would have flinched before that fury, shrinking back and abandoning his opinion. But things were different now. Herbert had observed this adorable tyrant long enough to understand his nature.
Richard was indeed a tyrant. Yet his tyranny possessed a clear purpose: his own peculiar brand of devotion to the state. Measured against that standard, his tyranny was not mere tyranny. There had been occasions when irrefutable evidence showed that his actions harmed the realm, and Richard had been forced to retreat without a word. That purpose was his vulnerability.
Herbert looked him squarely in the eye. “Your Majesty’s problem is that hasty temper. How many talents far more capable than I have you already lost to it? Please hear me out to the end.”
Richard answered with a sour expression. “……If what you say is drivel, you’ll end up walking the same road they did.”
Despite the threat, Herbert spoke with dignity. “Precisely because of that small population, we must—in broad strategic terms—launch a rapid invasion of Malong. I am not opposing the war. But because of the same factor, in specific tactical terms, we must carefully calibrate every detail.”
Richard nodded. “I understand.”
Herbert continued, “Furthermore, as Chancellor of Zylan and head of the Zylan Church, I am in principle opposed to fabricating charges of treason against the parliament and confiscating monastic property. However……”
Up to this point, the words were only what one would expect from the Archbishop of Clondel. Herbert cleared his throat and went on.
“However, if there is no danger of discovery and no lasting repercussions, and if we accept the premise that there is no other way, then we may—indeed, we must—proceed exactly as you intend. That is what I wished to report to Your Majesty.”
Herbert’s statement aligned perfectly with Richard’s own thinking. Richard’s face remained sour as he apologized.
“……I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. In the end, he had grown heated over something Herbert already understood completely. He tried to avoid the man’s gaze, but Herbert called him back.
“What Your Majesty should be doing now is not apologizing to me, but persuading His Highness Prince Rio.”
Richard turned toward Rio. The prince was staring at them both with his mouth hanging open, visibly stunned.
“H-how…… Your Excellency the Archbishop?”
Richard’s habit of scratching his head seemed to have infected Herbert as well. The two men scratched their scalps in unison and muttered under their breath.
“Perhaps speaking of the realities of politics was still a little early for Rio?”
“Or perhaps it was because the words that came out of my mouth sounded exactly like something Your Majesty would say.”
“If Rio truly understood the world, he wouldn’t have been shocked merely by hearing you speak that way.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“I can hear every word, you two! Do you really think I wouldn’t know something like that? That’s not what I’m worried about!”
Rio raised his voice in clear frustration. “What is the single most important thing when waging war?”
Richard answered, “A strong army.”
This time Herbert spoke. “An unquestionable justification for war, surely?”
Rio closed his eyes and clutched his head. In a low mutter—yet loud enough for both to hear—he growled, “Damn it all. To think I have to serve these people as my superiors.”
Without giving them a chance to respond, he pressed on. “Shouldn’t we first estimate how much this war is going to cost? Instead you two sit there like political geniuses who never bothered to run the numbers, smirking ‘A cold-blooded scheme is perfectly fine as long as we don’t get caught, heh heh heh,’ completely drunk on your own cleverness! I can accept it from my brother, but how can even Your Excellency the Archbishop lose himself in playing the role of some ‘cold and magnificent schemer’?”
Each clipped word dripped with irritation.
“Y-your words are rather harsh, Rio.”
“They were a bit harsh, I admit. Brother has never been the sort to mind such things. But Your Excellency the Archbishop?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“……Never mind, Your Excellency the Chancellor. How could I presume to reprimand my superior? Please forgive my rudeness.”
“……”
Herbert quietly closed his mouth. Richard, by contrast, opened his to protest.
“No, Rio, that’s not what I—”
“Brother. Brother. You have fought more than five wars in which you mobilized over ten thousand troops, and in the last conflict you mobilized more than thirty thousand, did you not? After driving the realm to the brink of bankruptcy by fielding an army we could not afford, why are you behaving as if you learned nothing from the experience?”
Rio’s rebuke was merciless. And, to Richard, somewhat unfair. He had learned from the recent brush with bankruptcy—the crisis was not even a month old.
He protested, “This time is different. This time I intended to calculate the exact cost of the war!”
“Haah, brother.” Rio shook his head. “At this rate I really will end up as your tutor. I’m not trying to scold you, so why are you telling such an obvious lie?”
“Lie?”
“If it isn’t a lie, then where is this ‘war-cost estimate’ you supposedly calculated?”
“That, well……”
Richard had nothing to say. He had not, in fact, performed any such calculation. Moreover, the figures he had ordered from David Bloomfield concerned the military strength of Count Malong’s domain and the maximum forces the count could raise—not the projected expenses of the coming campaign. Still, whatever the subject of those calculations, Richard needed Bloomfield’s data. Even if he could only produce a rough estimate of the war costs, the margin of error would be far narrower with the banker’s figures than without them.
At that moment a royal guardsman’s voice announced the arrival.
“Mr. David Bloomfield has arrived.”
“Ah, yes. Grant him an audience.”
Ironically, David’s appearance was a rescue for Richard. It was anything but for Rio and Herbert—especially not for Herbert. The archbishop raised one eyebrow.
“It had better not be the Bloomfield I know, Your Majesty?”
“I don’t know which Bloomfield you mean, but the one who just entered is the Jihan merchant Bloomfield.”
At those words Herbert turned toward the door of the office with open revulsion. A dark shape stood there. A form so hideous that human eyes instinctively recoiled. A rotting corpse, a cursed vampire, the spawn of vipers—a Jihan.
Herbert pointed at the loathsome creature and cried out, “This is outrageous! A Jihan in the royal council!”
“Brother! What is this…? How can you allow a Jihan into the royal audience?”
Herbert’s opposition was something Richard had anticipated. The Church’s hatred of Jihans was as natural as a man’s aversion to filth. But Rio’s reaction was unexpected. Until now the prince had never displayed anti-Jihan sentiment; his attitude had always been coldly pragmatic. That he would suddenly react this way was incomprehensible to Richard.
“I can understand Herbert, but why even you, Rio?”
Rio glared at David as though he wished to murder him on the spot. “This isn’t a question of ‘why.’ It is a question of principle. It is utterly unacceptable for that filthy Jihan creature to set foot inside the glorious royal audience chamber of Venterum Castle.”
“But Rio, Mr. Bloomfield here has been tasked with calculating the costs of this war. We can hardly send him away now, can we?”
“What?”
Rio’s face went slack with disbelief. Herbert wore the same expression. The archbishop muttered something about “What is this country coming to,” then collapsed heavily into his chair.
David Bloomfield, ever the pragmatic Jihan, paid their reactions no mind. A sly, reptilian smile stretched across his cunning face as he laid the thick bundle of documents on the desk.
“A pleasure to meet you both. I presume you are His Highness Prince Rio and His Excellency Archbishop Herbert Eastport. Correct?”
David inquired with perfect politeness, yet neither Rio nor Herbert offered any reply. They merely stared at him with the same disgusted expressions one might wear while looking at something foul.
“……”
Undeterred, David introduced himself with the cheerful optimism typical of his kind. “I am the humble banker David Bloomfield, who once had the honor of extending funds to Her Majesty Queen Richelle. I have been charged with estimating the scale of troops Count Malong’s domain can mobilize in a short period, in advance of the forthcoming declaration of war.”