Getting all the people out of the territory would be a nightmare. Even if it were possible, they wouldn’t be able to provide them the same standard of living they enjoyed before. The end result would be forcing them to live in harsh conditions.
“You’re right, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for that foolish remark.”
Gazef bowed his head. A foolish noble—someone who treated the people of the land only as tools to produce wealth—would never have said something like that. It was precisely because the king had so much compassion that Gazef was devoted to him.
He recalled what he had said to his vice-captain six months ago when they went to Carne.
Didn’t you ever hope? Hope that a noble would appear in your hour of need? That someone with power would come and save you?
Let’s show ’em that there are people out there who will risk their lives despite the danger, that there are strong who will protect the weak!
The Gazef who participated in the royal tournament wouldn’t have been able to say that. Back then, he agreed with his vice-captain’s view: There weren’t any nobles who would put their lives on the line for peasants.
But then Gazef began serving the king up close, and for the first time, he saw that there were nobles like that. The only problem was they were powerless.
Sadly, many lives had slipped through his fingers. And there were many times that silly aristocratic pride had caused issues.
Still, the man he served never became rotten. The king constantly labored to build a country that made life easier for the people.
Gazef was proud of King Ramposa III. If he wasn’t, perhaps he would have taken up Jircniv’s offer that time and switched sides on the battlefield.
That’s how he felt, but dark clouds massed in his mind.
The king’s statement was true and just—that wasn’t the issue. The king had always been the kind of compassionate person who treated his subjects as people. But Gazef knew there was another reason the king was using such powerful words.
After the demon disturbance, the power balance between the factions had shifted greatly.
The kingdom was split into two factions in a power struggle: the king’s faction and the nobles’ faction. They had long been neck and neck, but now the king’s faction had expanded, and the nobles’ faction had shrunk.
Since the king led the way in driving off Jaldabaoth, he’d given the impression that he was a strong ruler, and many nobles switched sides and began supporting him. He couldn’t very well show weakness now. Because…
“But I don’t think the captain is wrong, per se—after all, we can avoid a war by simply turning over a single city. Preemptively shielding his subjects from suffering is also a king’s job. Wouldn’t a true king tear himself apart before bringing his subjects sorrow?”
The one commenting belonged to the nobles’ faction. There were a lot of high-minded ideas bandied about, but most likely he was interested only in chipping away at the king’s domain. Someone from the king’s faction immediately retorted.
“That land is controlled directly by the king! If you want to give land to the enemy, give your own!”
That sparked its own reaction.
“What are you talking about?! The empire is demanding the area around E-Rantel. What would we achieve by giving away my land way off in some other direction?! Think for a moment before you speak!”
As a result of the king’s faction growing more powerful, the nobles’ faction had grown weaker. In order to remedy that, their attempts to hinder the king had increased.
That was the cause of another one of Gazef’s anxieties. Because the balance between the factions had shifted, the efforts to chip away at the king’s power had grown. The kingdom was liable to break apart in conflict.
And that’s why the king was appealing to his strength—to not allow his opposition any chance to revolt. There was nothing wrong with that, but…
…wasn’t it incredibly dangerous for anyone who wasn’t allowed to show any weakness?
Gazef was lost in thought until he was brought back to his senses by the intense gazes from some nobles in the king’s faction. Their eyes questioned whether he might have defected to the nobles’ faction, since he had proposed giving away the king’s land. They stared with disapproval: Have you forgotten all that you owe the king, commoner?!
“Hmph! All you need to do is ask the king to swap the E-Rantel area for your land. Then you could give it away!”
“Do you think it’s so easy to trade land? Fool!”
“You’re the fool!”
The childish squabble immediately drew the whole meeting into a clamor. In the past, any debate would have ended in a draw. But the king’s faction’s voices grew louder, and the nobles’ faction’s voices grew fainter.
Before, the king might have stopped this himself, but it didn’t seem like he was going to this time—because the king’s faction’s voices were louder, of course.
Anyone would find it hard to call a halt to a situation where they stood to gain. Plus, there was also the matter of the pent-up discontent.
Seems like he’s being fed sweet poison.
Gazef sensed the cold, dark will harbored in the eyes of the nobles’ faction members, and it sent a chill up his spine.
This was all because of Jaldabaoth’s attack.
Under the circumstances, having the king lead the charge was the best possible move at the time. If it weren’t for that, the line would have collapsed, and the adventurers would have been wiped out. They would have lost the Blue Roses, leaving the kingdom in the direst of straits.
But looking at the current situation, Gazef had to wonder if there had been a better option they could have chosen.
How would this court meeting have gone if the factions had been on equal footing?
I don’t know. But what’ll happen if we lose the battle with the empire? Will someone argue we should resist to the end? Or maybe they won’t? It’s possible the king’s faction will abruptly lose power, while the nobles’ faction will gain, but does that mean the balance will be restored? Or will it collapse…? Will a war that rips the kingdom in two break out…? Are we going to be all right?
He had the awful feeling that they were being manipulated. Even though it seemed as though they were making their own decisions, maybe they were being strung along somehow.
Could Sir Gown have planned all this…from the very first time I met him? No, I’d like to think that can’t be true. We only talked briefly, but I didn’t get that feeling from him.
Though the caster Ainz Ooal Gown had become his enemy, Gazef didn’t have a bad enough impression of him to address him without the “sir.”
He might actually be a peaceful rul— Oh, ack. I can’t be thinking disloyal things like that.
“Can we bring the shouting match to an end about now?”
The nobles knew who the gloomy male voice belonged to, so they quieted down.
That should have been the king’s job. That someone else should stop them made Gazef bite his lip.
That victory was so sweet.
He thought it would be all right. But would the king forget that sweet nectar? Would the king Gazef was so proud of fade away? He couldn’t completely clear the worries from his mind.
“Your Majesty, if we’re certain the empire will invade, we need to prepare ourselves.”
“Marquis Raeven, His Majesty can go alo—”
But Raeven interrupted the nobles’ faction member and spoke again. “Hold on. If His Majesty’s army was defeated, how far do you think the empire would advance? In order to protect my own domain, I’ll be lending all my strength to the king.”
Silence descended.
The kingdom’s soldiers were conscripted civilians; the gap between them and the professional knights of the empire couldn’t even be measured. The only way to win against the empire’s quality military was to overwhelm it with quantity. That’s how they had fought for the past several years. If they l
ost even when they committed large numbers of soldiers, it went without saying what would happen.
Prompted by Marquis Raeven’s remarks, the nobles’ faction members must have imagined imperial knights invading their territory.
The first to declare their support were the ones who had domains between the capital and E-Rantel. Then those who were close to them. Soon, all of them had agreed.
“All right. Then I’ll make sure our response to the empire doesn’t arrive too soon, so until our declaration of war is delivered, gather your men! I’m sure the fight will take place in the usual location. Gather there. Naturally, I’ll go, too,” said the king.
“I’ll accompany you to the battlefield, Father!”
The one who spoke was Prince Barbro, who had been standing by silently up until that very moment.
“…No, no. The first in line for the throne doesn’t need to be there. I’ll go.”
It was the second prince, Zanac, across from Barbro, who answered. Barbro’s response was crystal clear.
“We don’t need you!”
It was a harshly hostile tone.
Zanac’s suggestion wasn’t wrong. It was awfully dangerous for both the king and his eldest son to go to battle. Surely even Barbro understood that. But the reason he refused was because he saw his brother as an enemy.
That was also due to the demon disturbance.
During the demon disturbance, Zanac had patrolled the capital and was praised by many of the kingdom’s people. Meanwhile, Barbro never left the palace. Consequently, the number of nobles supporting Zanac sharply increased.
Zanac wasn’t terribly good-looking, so the gap between his appearance and his courage made him stand out. And conversely, Barbro, with his splendid appearance, was presumed to be a coward. To erase that harmful rumor, Barbro wanted to stand on the battlefield and demonstrate to the court his bravery.
As his physique would indicate, Barbro was a decently capable warrior. That being said, he was ultimately counted among those who needed to be defended; he wouldn’t have had a chance at defeating Princess Renner’s attendant, Climb, who trained till he was practically coughing up blood. But he was still the best swordsman in the royal family. If Zanac swung a sword, his body would be pulled around by the weight of it alone. Barbro refused to be seen as less courageous than such a weakling. Marquis Raeven once said, What’s the point of members of the royal family being skilled with a sword? but Barbro knew that he wasn’t as smart as Zanac, so he wanted to avoid losing in the area he could be proud of: his abilities.
More than anything, he didn’t want to fall behind in the contest for the throne.
Gazef’s stomach pained him when he thought about the dangers lurking within the kingdom.
He was thinking that if the king retired, he would follow him and live as his personal guard, but that could be tricky.
Was it wrong, as the king’s loyal retainer, to not save the lives he could if he continued working as the captain of the Royal Select? He also wondered if the king would even allow him to follow in his footsteps.
He could leave the position up to someone else, if there were someone as strong as him around, but he couldn’t think of anyone. In terms of power, there was one person, but he didn’t think that man would agree to succeed him.
I wonder what Brain will do now. What’s on his mind these days?
Brain was currently serving Princess Renner directly, but Gazef had the feeling he might suddenly go off somewhere. If he disappeared, it would surely be to improve his swordsmanship. It was a lifestyle that appealed to Gazef somewhat, as someone whose duties required him to stay in the palace.
He recalled how sharp Brain’s sword was.
They had sparred after the demon disturbance.
Both gave their all in the bout, but it ended with Gazef’s victory. Still, every time his hair fluttered in the gust of a sword slash, he keenly sensed the long hours of training Brain had put in.
He even had the feeling that in a few years Brain would surpass him.
If he succeeded me as captain of the Royal Select, I could focus on training the younger generation… Then the kingdom would have a chance at producing some outstanding warriors.
“I agree!”
Marquis Beauleurope’s voice brought him back. Now wasn’t the time to be mulling over the distant future.
“With your permission, I would offer you some of my strongest soldiers; they can double as guards. What do you say, my king?”
“Hmm, Captain, what do you think?”
Gazef couldn’t very well announce that he hadn’t been paying attention, so he pretended to think for a moment. He purposely ignored Marquis Raeven’s raised eyebrow.
It seemed Marquis Beauleurope was suggesting that Prince Barbro, whom he supported as the next king, go to battle. But he didn’t know for sure, so there was only one thing he could say.
“As Your Majesty wishes.”
The king nodded deeply, and Gazef felt somewhat guilty.
“Ah, I see… That’s fine… Then you can come, too.”
“Yes, Your Majesty! I’ll cut off that fake emperor’s head, Father, you’ll see!”
Hearing Barbro’s energetic response, Gazef prayed the busy days to come would send his worries out the window.
Marquis Raeven was one of the six great nobles and more adept than anyone when it came to politics. Some might assume the office where he shrewdly exercised his abilities would be gorgeous, but in reality, that wasn’t the case. Most people would no doubt be surprised to learn that many of the decisions that plotted the course of the kingdom were made in such a cramped little room.
All the walls had bookshelves, lined with neatly organized books and labeled parchments—a testament to their owner’s character. But that wasn’t why the room appeared small. Well, it was certainly one reason, but…
The biggest factor was hidden from view.
Marquis Raeven’s residence was built in brick with stucco coating, like most nobles’ mansions. Then what was special about the office? It was like any other room in the building.
Except that it was surrounded by a layer of copper plate built into the walls to prevent eavesdropping, surveillance, or targeting.
The room had no windows, so it felt rather cramped, but in a cost-performance sense, it was big enough for his purposes, so he had to make do.
Having returned from the palace, Marquis Raeven went straight over to the only chair in the room, set behind his massive desk, then dropped roughly into it. It was the careless way someone who was utterly exhausted would sit.
Then he covered his face. No one who saw him would think he was the most powerful great noble. He looked much more like a tired middle-aged man.
When his blond bangs drooped slightly, he pushed them out of his face. Raeven leaned back in his chair and grimaced.
Perhaps because he had relaxed a bit, the stress that had built up during the court meeting came bubbling up as anger. It easily hit critical mass and became a roar that echoed into the void.
“They’re all idiots!”
Not a single one of them understood the situation. Or if they did and they were allowing events to continue this way, that made them terrible conspirators.
The kingdom was actually quite cornered.
Due to the empire’s frequent harassment, all sorts of dangers were gradually piling up, as exemplified by the looming food shortage.
The only reason the massive cracks weren’t visible yet was because the nobles were convinced that they had to endure only until they drove away the other faction.
The empire could field professional warriors—knights—but the kingdom had nothing like that. In order to resist the empire’s invasion, they needed to round up ordinary folks and create an army of conscripts. Consequently, that left the villages shorthanded for a season.
The empire understood that, naturally bringing them to target the harvest season.
It went without saying what a problem it was to
have male workhands absent from the fields during the busiest season. Some probably thought the answer was to simply stop recruiting so many commoners. But unless the kingdom gathered several times the numbers of the imperial knights, who were both disciplined combat professionals and well outfitted, their conscript army would be defeated all too easily.
Actually, there was one time the kingdom suffered greatly because it didn’t draft enough men. At the time, Gazef led a successful counterattack that managed to take out two of the “previous” Four, so the fight ended with both sides hurt. Still, it could probably be counted as the kingdom’s defeat, considering the resulting drop in its national power on top of all the lives lost.
And yet…
“That trash is betraying us! Those other idiots are consumed in a power struggle! And these morons are sowing discord!”
Marquis Blumrush, one of the six great nobles, was betraying the kingdom and selling intelligence to the empire. Nobles were fighting among themselves in the king’s and nobles’ factions. The princes were competing for succession.
Marquis Raeven let out all his resentment as he pounded his desk.
“And then there’s the king! He’s no fool, and I know he isn’t acting in his own interests, but how thoughtless can he be?! If he doesn’t turn over the throne soon, the fighting will only worsen! Princess Renner created this advantage for the king’s faction, so he should have passed his authority to the next generation and been done with it!”
The one who suggested that the king should join the battle during the demon disturbance had been the Golden Princess, Renner.
As a result, the influence of the king’s faction dramatically increased. If the king had abdicated in favor of Prince Zanac right then, it probably would have gone smoothly, but…
“This is all because he took pity on his eldest. I empathize, but what’s important here? Isn’t there anyone with a brain who can do a little thinking?”
Actually, those people existed, but most of them were already in Marquis Raeven’s faction.
Instead of gathering all of them on his side, he wished he had strategically placed them in the other faction to manipulate it from within. Not only did he regret his past self’s mistake, he practically ripped his hair out at the fact that there didn’t seem to be any smart nobles in the opposition.
The Caster of Destruction Page 10
