Episode 211

War was an act of enriching the nobility with the blood of the common people.

As someone who had experienced war firsthand, I always tried to steer situations to avoid war under any circumstances.

Why did I attempt to assassinate the Emperor of the Empire in the first place?

It was to prevent war, to minimize bloodshed so that only the Hapsburg Emperor would die, sparing countless lives from unnecessary suffering.

When war broke out, it was always the people who perished in the end.

The nobility, under titles like commanders and officers, stayed in the rear giving orders, securing their safety while pushing others into the abyss of death—and these were the ones who inevitably survived the war.

That’s why I despised war.

As a result of sustained warfare, the heroes had died, leaving only those who demanded things from those heroes still alive. That’s the reality of Nostrum today.

War wasn’t limited to battles of territory or national conflicts drenched in blood.

Confronting large-scale demon outbreaks in the Wastelands was war, as was battling a disease that infected nearly 10% of humanity.

In such wars, those who selflessly sacrificed themselves were celebrated as heroes. Yet, the corrupt traitors who exploited these wars to amass wealth shower those heroes with hollow praises while ensuring their own gains.

The prime examples of such traitors were Marquis Zelos, Viscount Balzac, and their ilk who flocked around them.

In the past, that was me. Before regression, I was one who fully enjoyed the benefits of wartime profiteering and Nostrum’s Kingdom-Destroying War.

That’s why I hated war. Not just because of the bloodshed, but also because it kept reminding me of who I was in the future.

However.

Anyone who remembered how, for centuries, the Kingdom resolved disputes through duels rather than legal judgments would quickly deduce that wars like this one were relatively common in Nostrum.

Some duels ended as personal combats between humans, but most were fought through knights as proxies. Sometimes, when emotions ran deep, it escalated to the point of wanting to erase the other party from history entirely.

At such times, a territorial war occurred. While disputes between territories should be resolved by the central authority, the central authority often threw up its hands and said, “Do whatever you want—kill or spare each other.” That was what territorial wars were.

I remained in the Margrave of Gibraltar’s territory even after the Lemveri Camp because of these territorial disputes.

“Sir Robert.”

“Yes, young master.”

After such a long time, I was staying with Sir Robert here in the Margrave’s territory.

“Do you know how many territorial wars have occurred in the past 18 years?”

“There have been 15, to my knowledge.”

“Yes. If we exaggerate a little, it’s almost like there has been one every year. Whether it’s small-scale skirmishes between barons and viscounts or larger-scale conflicts involving marquises against counts.”

Territorial wars had been frequent. I didn’t need to concern myself with them, but Nostrum’s nobility had often resolved their disputes through duels or territorial wars.

“Did you know? Among territorial wars, some determine the winner through clashes of knights, with an unspoken rule against killing.”

“Isn’t that just a duel?”

“As you say, it’s life-or-death, but not exactly a duel. While knights participate in these disputes, in cases with freelance knights, today’s enemy might become tomorrow’s ally.”

From the perspective of the nobles hiring the knights, they must have been exasperated watching knights fiercely fight without inflicting fatal wounds.

That’s how most territorial wars have been so far. In a way, it had been a relatively healthy and civilized practice of determining outcomes through force.

Not this time.

“A territorial war like this, one aiming to annihilate the opponent’s family, is rare. The first in 18 years, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

This territorial war was one of destruction, an all-out battle. The aim was to erase the opposing family’s name from history, to either kill their bloodline or force them to abandon their family name entirely.

And who was doing it? The Gibraltar family.

“Until now, the Gibraltar family has never been involved in a territorial war.”

“Who would dare provoke the kingdom’s protector?”

As Sir Robert said, the Gibraltar family had never participated in a territorial war.

“Even if there was cause for a territorial war, who would actually dare to start one?”

There was no reason for something as trivial as a territorial war.

“The Gibraltar family is on the front line.”

For 18 years, the Gibraltar family had dealt with countless real wars, responding to repeated skirmishes instigated by the Empire.

“But now, they’re no longer the front line, thanks to you, young master.”

“…In some ways, we even have strong allies at our back.”

“Yes, the Empire.”

Now, there was no war with the Empire.

“Perhaps the Emperor might even send Imperial troops for your sake?”

“That would make it an international war, wouldn’t it?”

“He’s the Emperor, after all. If you were to say, ‘Could you send some soldiers?’ he might just show up in disguise as ‘Mr. Tersian’ to help.”

“If anything, Viscount Quivers might appear—a Swordmaster with suspiciously blue hair and a mask.”

If war were to break out with the Empire now, it would likely only happen if I revealed our “irreconcilable differences” to the Emperor.

“You eliminated nearly a quarter of the Golden Dawn, including even Commander Zelos Barcel?”

“Their strength has diminished, true. But they’ll gather even more forces now. With Commander Zelos dead, the Marquis of Barcel will pour all their resources into rebuilding their power.”

Commander Zelos was dead.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? They must have spent quite a budget promoting that fake.”

“Fake…”

“It’s all about controlling the narrative. What else is ‘exploiting a corpse’ but leveraging public opinion? Nostrum’s royal family specializes in that sort of thing—they’re masters of so-called ‘hero exploitation.’”

And yet, socially speaking, he wasn’t dead.

“I personally killed around forty knights of the Golden Dawn along with the Marquis of Zelos, yet even a month later, there hasn’t been a single funeral held in the Barcel territory.”

Not even the occurrence of his death was acknowledged.

“And in his place, there’s now a ghost occupying the position. What do you think about that, Sir Robert?”

“There are only two possibilities. Either they’ve used black magic to truly resurrect the corpse, or completely different people are pretending to be members of the Golden Dawn.”

“Exactly. Because of that, Gibraltar is suddenly forced into a territorial war against the Golden Dawn.”

They had seized the upper hand in the battle of public opinion with absurd tactics.

“They’re going around claiming that the Margrave of Gibraltar declared war based on mere ‘suspicions.’ Accusing us of flaunting military strength against the kingdom’s foremost knightly order, siding with the Empire as traitors.”

Who could orchestrate such a scheme?

“Even in its decay, Nostrum’s royal bloodline is still potent, isn’t it?”

There’s only one person.

“Sir Robert, aren’t you scared?”

“Scared, you say?”

“Yes, scared. If the current developments are that person’s doing, then all their previous incompetence must have been deliberate acting.”

“Couldn’t it just be genuine incompetence?”

“That’s what makes it scarier.”

Someone who did nothing until the moment they must act.

Someone who appeared indulgent and frivolous to others, only to reveal their true capabilities when the time was right.

“Seeing Saint Gio Nostrum like this feels… unfamiliar.”

“It’s probably not him directly.”

“Not him? What do you mean?”

“Yes. Saint Gio Nostrum is likely continuing as he always has. There’s probably someone new at his side—a ‘mind’ guiding him.”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense. That’s the logical explanation.”

The truly incompetent remained incompetent.

We mustn’t mistake the actions of a shadow manipulating events for the person’s own capabilities.

“Corrupt figures like Viscount Balzac must have gathered in the Barcel territory.”

At present.

“Otherwise, they wouldn’t have formed such a unified front to condemn Gibraltar.”

In response to Gibraltar’s sudden declaration of a territorial war, many noble families united to loudly criticize Gibraltar.

Worse still, if actual soldiers were mobilized to march toward Nostrum, all the nobles, claiming to act for the greater good, were prepared to draw their swords.

“Declaring a territorial war against a land hosting the king? It’s certainly dangerous.”

At present, Saint Gio Nostrum, the king of Nostrum, resided in the Barcel territory.

“Not only has the royal knightly order been fully mobilized, but shadowy figures of unknown origin have filled the vacant positions, joining forces. They’re the most troublesome ones.”

“Why not ask the Emperor for assistance?”

“If I went to the Emperor with such a request, I’d be no different from any other noble in Nostrum. At the very least, we must resolve this ourselves. For my father.”

“Hmm…”

“And besides—”

I pointed out the window to the training ground, where my father was sparring with knights.

“Gibraltar can win a territorial war easily, without anyone else’s help.”

“Well, that’s—”

“Not just because of my father’s strength, but because of Gibraltar’s collective strength.”

Meanwhile, at the border of the Barcel territory.

“Stop right there!”

Soldiers guarding the border raised their spears, blocking the path of a robed figure approaching on horseback.

“No one from Gibraltar is allowed to enter! If you wish to pass, present your permit!”

“Permit?”

“…A woman?”

Rustle.
The woman in the robe lowered her hood.

“Permit, you say.”

Her long, mint-colored hair shimmered as she flicked it back and kicked the side of her horse.

“I don’t have such a thing.”