Chapter 5 - Wein
Although Yuan was a follower of Eastern Levetia and an elite cardinal, the unexpected upheaval in recent days was something he had hoped was a practical joke.
The issue was poor timing. A top-level meeting between the larger-than-life Crown Prince Wein of Natra and His Grace Ernesto of Eastern Levetia, in the Empire no less, would allow Eastern Levetia’s influence to soar. Certain of this, Yuan had done everything in his power to bring both sides to the negotiation table. Yet despite his initial success, Wein then suggested they meet in Natra. This was a result of Yuan’s own inadequacies and a call for self-reflection.
However, the events that followed could only be described as astounding.
First, there was Lowellmina’s supposed assassination. Yuan had been dumbfounded by the news. He knew the princess’s popularity within the Empire was practically tangible. Yuan himself was secretly fond of her. What was to become of the Empire with her gone? A violent thunderstorm loomed over its future.
Thus Yuan was relieved when reports of misinformation arrived. Plus, Prince Wein had taken the situation seriously and agreed to meet in the Empire so he could observe its state of affairs. It was an unexpected windfall.
However, that was when Yuan’s luck ran out.
Princess Lowellmina and Prime Minister Keskinel were close allies, the outraged citizens suspected either Manfred or Bardloche had ordered the assassination, and the princes’ recent movements were worrisome. The Empire’s situation was deteriorating rapidly, and since he was the conference’s coordinator, Yuan’s work was never done.
If—if only we could postpone it...!
However, Yuan was the one who’d invited the foreign prince in the first place. Any proposed delay would reflect poorly on him, and Wein would see through any attempt to indirectly get him to do the same. Yuan racked his brain over what to do about the inevitable arrival of the Natra delegation.
As matters stood, he had no choice but to get through the conference as fast as possible and send Wein’s delegation back to Natra.
That was the plan, but...
“I never imagined it would come to this.”
Reports of Bardloche’s army were the last thing on Yuan’s mind.
They were hardly inconsequential, but a greater issue overshadowed them.
“I suppose we won’t be able to remain uninvolved for much longer,” Yuan said in a displeased tone. He glanced down at the letter in his hand.
“Wh-why, Your Highness?!”
Fyshe, who’d finally caught up to Wein’s delegation in a town north of Veijyu Lake, insisted on an audience and requested Natra’s aid. However, Wein said his nation would not provide reinforcements.
“If your concerns are financial, we will cover the cost! In fact, you don’t have to send a single unit! You only need to announce that Natra’s military is assisting Princess Lowellmina,” she stated firmly.
“Like I said, I can’t.” Wein’s refusal cut like a knife. “See for yourself. This just arrived from Eastern Levetia.”
Wein held out a missive. Fyshe read the contents, then reeled.
“...Eastern Levetia has denounced Prince Bardloche?!”
Second Prince Bardloche, despite his position in the Imperial Family, was in contact with Levetia to the West and intended to become Emperor with its aid. His success guaranteed he would become a puppet of the West. Eastern Levetia’s followers and the citizens of the Empire refused to accept this. The censure itself was written in the name of Eastern Levetia.
“I imagine you missed the news in your rush to get here,” Wein said.
“Yes, it is as you say... But how can this be...?” Fyshe couldn’t believe it, and her thoughts swirled. Eastern Levetia had always kept a fixed distance from the Empire and from worldly authorities as a whole. In return, the Empire respected those boundaries and made no attempt to bridge the gap. Even if one side ran into trouble, it was an unwritten rule that the other think very carefully before interfering. However, Bardloche had tossed that tradition out the window.
“Your shock is understandable, but any criticism against Prince Bardloche doesn’t matter now. Our real problem is that Levetia and Eastern Levetia have acted on their own,” Wein stated. “Prince Bardloche will be denounced as a traitor for siding with Levetia in the West. As representatives of Eastern Levetia, Prince Manfred and Princess Lowellmina will try to subdue him... Now, what do you think will happen if Natra decides to send Princess Lowellmina reinforcements?”
Fyshe shuddered. She finally understood what would happen if Wein granted Lowellmina aid. “...In all likelihood, society would see the move as an alliance between Natra and Eastern Levetia and an attack on Levetia.”
Wein nodded. “Right. And geographically speaking, our nation survives by striking a careful balance between the East and the West. I can’t do anything to slight Levetia.”
"...!"
Fyshe’s jaw tightened.
The battle for Imperial succession began as in-fighting among the late Emperor’s children, but it had since become a religious war by proxy. Fyshe had no choice but to accept Natra’s refusal, lest the West gain a reason to invade and wreak havoc. Such a development would be detrimental to Natra and the Empire.
“I realize you’ve come all this way, but unfortunately, my hands are tied, Lady Blundell.”
A disappointed Fyshe could only nod.
“...Well, that was nothing short of brilliant,” Wein said with a wry smile after Fyshe had left the room in a downtrodden stupor. “Can’t say I ever thought he’d get Eastern Levetia involved.”
“This must have been Strang’s plan when he met with you.”
“No kidding. He obviously wants me removed from the conflict.”
Wein threw the uneasy Ninym a side glance, then returned his attention to the letter in his hand.
The largest religion in the East had condemned a prince. Needless to say, it wasn’t a half-hearted decision. Eastern Levetia’s followers weren’t a group of drunks bashing politicians from one corner of town. If Bardloche’s faction won, it would never forgive Eastern Levetia. The religious organization had undoubtedly taken severe measures to stop the prince in his tracks.
“Strang’s scheme must go a little something like this.”
Wein proceeded to explain each step.
“First, he explained how Lowa’s rule could threaten Natra and tried to discourage me from supporting her,” he said.
Ninym chimed in. “He also requested nothing from Natra and actively avoided antagonizing us.”
“He must have also convinced Eastern Levetia that Bardloche is an enemy of the Empire.”
“If all goes well, he’ll prevent Natra from interfering and greatly demoralize Bardloche’s army... His meticulousness is truly maddening,” Ninym said with a sigh.
Wein shrugged. “He got me good. I never thought Strang would drive me this far into a corner.”
“But how did Manfred’s forces persuade Eastern Levetia to act? Bardloche’s ties with the West must be significant for Eastern Levetia to denounce him directly.”
“That’s a good point... Eastern Levetia isn’t the Empire’s official religion, and its authority is pretty limited. I’ve heard the autonomous provinces handle most of the proselytizing. In that case, if I had to guess...”
“Most powerful members of Manfred’s faction are major provincial figures... They must have taken every believer hostage.”
“Of course, that also means Manfred and his gang have gathered enough evidence to justify condemning Bardloche.”
Meticulousness. Yes, as Ninym had said, it was a well-organized scheme.
Not everything had gone according to plan, though. Between the botched assassination attempt, Wein’s visit to the Empire, and Bardloche’s quick maneuvers, there had been plenty of bumps along the way. Still, Manfred’s forces had stayed the course and brilliantly seized the initiative.
“The main issue now is that Bardloche has become the key to the throne.”
Thanks to her failed “assassination,” Lowellmina had inadvertently projected an image of weakness. However, Bardloche’s and Manfred’s mistakes had outstripped hers, and the populace would continue to support the frail princess regardless.
“Manfred doesn’t have enough public support to win by standard means, but now there’s an obvious villain,” Ninym mused.
“Right. The people were already outraged by the assassination reports, and now there’s a scandal afoot. If Bardloche isn’t careful, his faction will be blamed for all the suffering this war has inflicted. Lowa and Manfred will surely do their best to push that narrative. If they succeed, past wins or losses will mean nothing because everyone will be calling for Bardloche’s head.”
Outstanding achievements could paint over past mistakes. Coupled with the established tradition of male succession that conservatives favored, Manfred would have the advantage if he defeated Bardloche. Citizens would laud the prince and pin their hopes on him as the next Emperor.
“But, Wein...”
“Right,” he answered with a nod. “This isn’t a bad deal for Lowa either.”
I can do this...!
As soon as Lowellmina learned that Eastern Levetia had castigated Bardloche, she spied a chance at victory.
Morale in Bardloche’s faction and his influx of soldiers are sure to plummet! The outraged citizens will come flocking to my side, too! I’ll even have fodder to sway the opportunists in my party!
Of course, the involvement of both sects of the Levetia faith meant Natra couldn’t move a muscle. Lowellmina knew this before Fyshe returned with Wein’s answer, but she also saw potential benefit in this. Strang was definitely keeping an eye on Lowellmina’s advantages, yet he still took action to keep Wein a bystander.
That crafty four-eyes still considers Wein more of a threat than me.
This didn’t upset Lowellmina. In fact, it was a reasonable conclusion. Nonetheless, she felt Strang had made two mistakes.
First, he seemingly felt confident he could win without Wein. And second, he’d assumed he could incite Bardloche by carefully cornering him.
At any rate, I won’t miss a single step froin here on out.
“Bardloche obviously won’t back down now either.”
“Time to move out.”
Soon after his unexpected censure, Bardloche addressed his agitated faction.
“That damn Manfred’s schemes have got us against a wall. Any time we waste will give our opponents time to bolster their forces. We’ve got no choice but to take down Lowellmina and Manfred with what we have,” Bardloche announced. “I’ve planned to ignore the people’s will and resort to firepower from day one. I couldn’t care less if I’m labeled a traitor. Once I’m Emperor, I’ll blot out my disgrace with military might. Follow me only if you can accept this.”
Everyone assembled agreed quickly.
“So what will you do, Wein?”
“Hmm.” He mulled over Ninym’s question for a moment. “Meeting Ernesto is the most logical step... But in light of the situation, we should probably postpone that and make a hasty retreat.”
“We’re just north of Veijyu Lake, but the Imperial Capital isn’t far to the south. I doubt the battle will reach this far, but the confusion and chaos certainly could.”
“Our delegation doesn’t have many fighters, and any attempt to summon Nara’s soldiers would present physical and political challenges.”
“In that case—”
“Still, it’s no fun to turn tail and hide,” Wein declared with a bold smile. “Honestly, being outplayed kinda annoys me.”
Ninym raised an eyebrow. “Do we even have a realistic way to fight back?”
“Sure we do,” Wein replied without skipping a beat. “Fyshe is still in the area, right? Call her for me right away. And prepare a letter, too. Let’s astound these people with a dash of mischief.”
“I suppose everything has come together...” Keskinel muttered while reviewing the situation via compiled unit reports.
Bardloche had steeled himself after being backed into a corner.
Lowellmina was preparing to meet him head-on.
Manfred hoped to use the other two to his advantage.
And Wein appeared to be interfering surreptitiously.
“The time has finally come.”
Keskinel sought a confident Emperor, a desire born from a history book he read as a child. It chronicled the life of the Empire’s first monarch, starting with the nation of Nalthia and its powerful neighbors.
A lackluster military, enemy commanders issuing challenges at every turn, circling schemes, and an Emperor who beat the odds to achieve great success. The account touched Keskinel’s heart, and he was eternally grateful to be a child of the Earthwork! Empire. Leading Earthwork! to further greatness was his patriotic duty. Such was the destiny of every citizen of the Empire.
Thus, Keskinel had remained neutral and purposefully pitted the Imperial children against one another. He paid no mind to the blood spilled. Civilian deaths and foreign threats were of no consequence. Everything was in service of his goal, and the Prime Minister removed any element that might inhibit the birth of a glorious Emperor.
Now at last, Keskinel’s efforts would bear fruit.
“Three snakes race toward the summit. A dragon stirs in the north. How will this play out?”
Bardloche was the first of the three siblings to take action, and his hodgepodge army marched from his domain. His forces totaled around ten thousand. Bardloche had anticipated at least double that, yet he’d reached only the halfway mark, severely limiting his resources. However, his soldiers possessed tremendous confidence. It was a desperate resolve the other two factions couldn’t match.
Bardloche’s forces marched for the Imperial Capital of Grantsrale, where Lowellmina had taken residence.
At least, that’s what one might have assumed.
“We’ll take the old capital of Nalthia.”
Nalthia sat north of Grantsrale, situated along the southern shore of Veijyu Lake. It was the land of the Empire’s origins and once served as its capital. Although that honor had since been transferred to Grantsrale, Nalthia still retained the Empire’s highest privilege. It was the final resting place of generations of Emperors and the site of the purification ceremony.
The four Imperial children had once chased one another in and around the city.
“Your Highness, Nalthia is important, but shouldn’t we prioritize defeating Princess Lowellmina?”
Bardloche shook his head at his commander’s question.
“No. We have fewer soldiers than expected, and Grantsrale is the seat of her territory. Even if we managed to seize the Imperial Capital, she might escape. Worse yet, Manfred is liable to slip into Nalthia, undergo the purification ceremony, and announce his own coronation while we’re occupied.”
To become the rightful Emperor, one first had to complete the purification ceremony in Nalthia and later hold a coronation in the capital of Grantsrale. Lowellmina had already performed the former, but her crowning was incomplete owing to a lack of citizen support and merit. Bardloche was in a similar position. Even if he underwent the purification ceremony and announced his ascension, the Empire’s populace wouldn’t accept him.
However, Manfred could conceivably push his way to the throne, proclaim himself the new Emperor, and reinforce Bardloche’s role as a traitor.
“I see. Yes, Your Highness is right...”
“Regrettably, we still don’t have enough soldiers to defend Nalthia.”
“We’ve captured the city before. We’ll just have to use that experience to do it again.”
“I doubt the other factions desire to spill blood there.”
Following this discussion, Bardloche’s forces decided to focus on Nalthia. However, a surprise awaited them at the old capital—Manfred’s vanguard.
“Tch, those idiots...!” Manfred, dressed for battle atop his warhorse, clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Everyone seeks recognition, after all,” Strang replied from the horse beside the Third Prince’s. “Besides, we’re an undisciplined rabble, quite unlike Bardloche’s army.”
“I’m surprised to hear you admit that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Manfred sighed quietly while Strang offered inflammatory remarks without the slightest hint of shame.
Manfred’s soldiers had set out from their domain several days after Bardloche’s forces began their march. Their main target was, of course, the head of the traitorous Second Imperial Prince.
However, Manfred’s troops moved in a disorderly fashion, quite unlike Bardloche’s. This was to be expected since the army consisted of commanders from each province. Although they followed the gist of Manfred’s plan, the soldiers served under different banners. If Bardloche’s army was a single organism, Manfred’s was a school of little fish. Skirmishes broke out among Manfred’s commanders daily. The deterioration of his army became more obvious with time.
That’s why it was, in a way, inevitable. Some of the leaders, in their pursuit of glory, grew tired of the slow advance on Bardloche instead of charging. Eventually, they declared themselves a separate vanguard and hurried ahead to strike Bardloche’s forces from the rear.
“Fortunately, that reckless contingent is small. Whatever they attempt, it will make little difference,” Strang said.
“What do you think will happen to them?” Manfred asked.
“Doesn’t it go without saying?” he replied.
A messenger rode up to them on horseback.
“Your Highness, I have a report. The vanguard has been destroyed!”
Neither Manfred nor Strang was surprised by this, and they both sighed. Bardloche’s soldiers were renowned as the greatest in the Empire. His new recruits were yet inexperienced, but still ranked better than Manfred’s warriors. During previous battles against Bardloche, Manfred’s planning and preparation to generate a tactical advantage earned him only fifty-fifty odds against his brother. A stab in the back by a few small fries would hardly leave a scratch on Bardloche. That was not to suggest he and his soldiers were cocky, however. They knew this was their final stand. A single well-placed kick could knock them away and seal their fate.
“It was a needless sacrifice,” Manfred spat.
Strang shook his head. “That’s not true. Thanks to this minor loss, our lax army will pull itself together and take our opponents seriously.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it... Wait.”
That can’t be.
Manfred cast a look at Strang, wondering if the man had purposefully allowed the vanguard to break away, knowing it would be crushed.
“Now the other units will fall into line when the time comes for our decisive conflict. For now, let’s continue to maintain a reasonable distance and tail the enemy as planned... Is something wrong, Your Highness?”
“...It’s nothing.”
There was surely more to this man than suggested at first glance.
Manfred gripped his reins tightly. Manfred’s offensive vanguard never stood a chance. Bardloche’s rear units stopped, pivoted, and overwhelmed them all at once. In fact, the battle was so short-lived that the victors had to wonder if the vanguard was a trap by way of diversion.
“What was that supposed to accomplish?”
“Even if the vanguard was carrying out a reconnaissance-in-force, their form was all over the place.”
“Most of Manfred’s soldiers are from the provinces. Maybe he doesn’t have full control over them?”
After a brief discussion, Bardloche’s military concluded that an overzealous unit had gone rogue because Manfred lacked proper command of his troops. This was fantastic news for Bardloche. The enemy’s lack of experience was certainly welcome, and a victory, even if it was just against the vanguard, also did wonders for troop morale.
“Your Highness, we are approaching Nalthia!”
“Understood. Their defenses will try to drive us back, but pay that no mind. We’ll take the city in one go.”
“Yes, sir!”
Bardloche heard the energy in his men’s voices as their pace quickened. At this rate, they’d take Nalthia, defeat Lowellmina in the capital, and finish off Manfred soon after. Anticipation sparked among Bardloche’s soldiers...
...only to crumble apart moments later.
“Y-Your Highness! We have an issue!” called a frantic voice, and Bardloche urged his steed forward to investigate. He was met by the unthinkable.
“Wh-what’s that...?”
“This can’t be happening.”
No one could believe it— not even Bardloche. Yet no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes, the scene remained unchanged.
Try as he did to deny it, the Second Prince had no recourse but to accept the truth.
“Why is Demetrio’s flag flying in Nalthia?!”
The First Imperial Prince Demetrio had departed from the world stage with his personal legion after his political defeat. Yet now they awaited Bardloche’s army in Nalthia.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Two figures stood atop Nalthia’s rampart.
“I bet my stupid little brothers are speechless right about now!”
A man guffawed loudly for all to hear. His name was Demetrio, Earthworld’s First Imperial Prince.
“I never thought we’d all get to square off this late in the game. How delightful!” Demetrio glanced at the man standing beside him on the stronghold wall. “And I’ve got you to thank for this, Prince Wein!”
Wein grinned at Demetrio’s praise.
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