Chapter 102: Your Faith (5) Johann Georg Goetze.
Having returned to the Imperial Central University to pursue his doctorate in humanities, he found himself unable to set down his pen, even deep into the night.
Scritch, scratch.
The sound of the nib pressing against the paper echoed through the room.
Maximilian had departed for Western Zerpa. However, he was set to return before May ended to propose several bills to the Council of State.
Until then, Johann had to do his part. He had to weave the discourse of Noblesse Oblige into this novel.
—A sufficiently well-written piece of literature can, in itself, become the foundation for an ideology.
That was what Maximilian had said. Johann understood it now, thanks to the countless classics and novels that had piled up in his room before he even realized it.
Just as a work written by a literary giant three hundred years ago exerted a profound influence on the specific laws and ethics of the Empire today, literature possessed a power that transcended time.
He doubted whether he possessed such talent, but...
Scritch— scratch—
In a room thick with the scent of ink, Johann scribbled away at his novel, Baltaras.
[ The nobility of the Empire bears a duty. In the Ancient Aran language, this is called Noblesse Oblige. Once, my father whispered that long-forgotten phrase and offered this advice:
"When the sight of others becomes so hideous that you can hardly bear it, stand before a mirror. Look at the reflection within and ask yourself if you truly possess the right to judge..." ]
The narrator of the novel was 'Paul.' He was the son of a bourgeois, an observer and an outsider who happened to stumble into the Imperial social circles.
The 'Baltaras' described by Paul was both the protagonist and the paragon of the perfect aristocrat.
...Yes, he was Maximilian.
Anyone familiar with high society would immediately recognize that Baltaras was Maximilian.
[ ...In the heart of the Empire, atop a hill in District 9, stood a massive mansion. It was the residence of Baltaras. Every night, a magnificent banquet was held there, as if all the light in the nation were converging upon that single point. ]
The 'entertainment value of writing' that Maximilian had mentioned.
To find its meaning, Johann had devoured novels published not only in the Empire but also abroad. The most popular theme was, unsurprisingly, love—romance. The aching love between a prince and a princess, or a noble and a commoner.
However, Johann did not want to write something ordinary. No, he couldn't. He could not ignore the hideous facets of the Empire's nobility and bourgeoisie.
Thus, he decided to intertwine two values: love and critique.
[ One day, Baltaras came to me and asked if I knew a young lady named Chloe. ]
Baltaras was a noble knight, yet he loved a woman with a pure heart.
A girl he had met briefly in his childhood, away from the pressures of his family and the eyes of the world. A woman from a dreamlike memory.
[ ...I told Baltaras the time and place of the meeting. In that moment, the face of the man who seemed to hold all the power of the Empire crumbled. Reverting to a mere boy, Baltaras repeatedly thanked me. ]
Next, he wrote the scene where Chloe and Baltaras reunited.
Two people meeting again across the span of many years. He used his pen to paint a picture of them cultivating a brief moment of happiness.
[ However, even while with Baltaras, Chloe could not ignore the shackles of reality bound to her ankles. ]
Chloe was tied to another man—'Dike,' to whom she was betrothed through a political arrangement between their families.
He was the epitome of a corrupt and greedy aristocrat. A man who ran wild, relying solely on the bloated power of his house—the very type Maximilian loathed, and the mainstream of this Empire.
Johann described the confrontation between the two.
[ "Dike. I ask you. Between the poor and the wealthy, who should pay more in taxes?"
"Haha. Baltaras, you always say the strangest things."
"I suppose it would sound strange to you." ]
Even as he wrote the dialogue, Maximilian's voice echoed vividly in Johann's ears.
His ideology, his absolute sense of qualification and grace, flowed out through Baltaras's mouth like a melody.
[ "Those who have much must give much, and the shoulders of those in high places must bear a heavier burden. It is as natural as providence itself, even if left unsaid."
Baltaras spoke, his upright gaze piercing through Dike.
"Yet, in the Empire today, there are many who seek to avoid doing so. Despite growing up within the Empire's warm embrace and nourishing themselves on its bounty, there are far too many who greedily suck the fruit dry while abandoning their responsibilities and duties." ]
Johann's nib scratched against the paper.
[ As Dike looked at him, the corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally. It was a hideous self-portrait, distorted like a serpent. ]
The fake loathes the real.
Perhaps it is because that nobility reflects their own ugliness.
Scritch. Scritch.
From that point on, Johann fell deep into his novel—into a 'world' that transcended mere fiction.
Baltaras was Maximilian. He was a noble who understood the responsibilities and duties of his station.
On the other hand, Dike was the very essence of the Imperial society's vulgarity.
Scritch. Scritch.
Johann himself became Paul, watching them, and his pen began to move of its own accord.
Before his eyes, Baltaras and Dike appeared as if they were real people.
Scritch. Scritch.
Blue particles began to form within the sentences etched onto the manuscript.
Mana bloomed in droplets, soaking into his pupils.
It was an immersion that invited magic.
* * *
The drawing room of the Zerpa Royal Palace.
"It is a pleasure to meet you... Knight Maximilian of the Empire."
The young Crown Prince greeted me. As I had heard, he was handsome with blond hair and blue eyes, but there was no strength in his gaze.
I handed him the letter from the Bertun garrison and got straight to the point.
"The offensive begins in three weeks. First, the Imperial Army will strike the front lines toward the Valdez Plains from the outside. At that time, the Royalist forces must respond from within and push outward."
"..."
The Crown Prince remained silent, so I asked again.
"Is there a problem?"
"...I am aware that the Empire has no interest in Zerpa," he added in a self-deprecating voice. "Furthermore, the generals who claim to serve this monarchy do not care if the country falls or the monarchy collapses. They are merely busy maintaining their own power and lining their pockets."
An accurate assessment. The military leadership clinging to the Royalist faction was stagnant water.
They were parasites using the Crown Prince as a puppet while looking out for their own interests behind the scenes.
I pulled a pen and paper from my coat.
"...Is that so?"
I silently wrote a sentence.
"In fact, I also believe the Empire has no intention of providing proper support to the Royalists—"
[ We are being eavesdropped on. The offensive is in two weeks, and the front we will strike is Alcantara Road. ]
"—at least, that's how it seems."
Ebenholtz's mana quietly felt out the space, easily detecting the presence of the bugging device. It was likely an internal enemy colluding with the Republicans. Compared to Yukia's, the technique was quite clumsy.
Thank you, Yukia. It seems my sensory perception has developed thanks to you.
"It is a regrettable thing to say. Especially since the King of Zerpa is also hovering between life and death."
[ The Empire supports the monarchy. The justification for that lies solely with Your Highness. ]
I wrote sentences that contradicted my words.
"Our goal is Your Highness's exile."
[ Among the generals of the Royalist military, there are those the Empire has taken note of. ]
Even in a place like this, usable talent existed. At the very least, it was impossible for everyone to be corrupt.
Distinguishing between a sycophant and a loyalist was easy for me.
Before my regression, the Zerpa Civil War had been a matter of significant interest even within the Empire, and I knew the faces of the generals who were executed when the monarchy fell.
In other words, the generals who gave their lives were the King's loyal subjects.
[ Brigadier General Espe. Major General Sellier. Both are nobles who believe in the monarchy and were educated in the Empire. ]
"If Your Highness refuses exile, there is nothing we can do, but..."
[ The Empire is Your Highness's only lifeline. ]
The Crown Prince's eyes wavered.
He was powerless. The authority of the royal family had hit rock bottom, and he had no power to control the military. He was a man who had been frail from birth.
That was precisely why he was useful.
It was easier for the Empire to manipulate things as they pleased if a powerless man sat on the throne.
[ The Imperial Army will move soon. We will break the siege with a lightning strike and grant Your Highness everything you desire. ]
Soon, the Crown Prince lifted his gaze to look at me. I showed him no insolence or disrespect. I maintained a posture steeped in respect.
What the Crown Prince desired was treatment befitting a royal.
The weaker a person's heart, the more they wish to lean on a strong person who treats them as someone precious.
[ The Empire simply needs your faith. ]
"...I need some time to think."
The Crown Prince said as much and nodded. A look of determination settled in his eyes.
It meant he didn't even need time to think.
* * *
—The Bertun 7th Guard Battalion finished coordinating with the Durkon Legion and completed their preparations for departure in an instant.
Under Lieutenant Colonel Han's strict command, the battalion's movements, having tightened their discipline, were as precise as clockwork. Their relationship with the local villagers was also surprisingly smooth.
"Gairshie! Gairshie!"
The children were not afraid of the soldiers. Instead, they waved their hands, saying thank you. The chocolate Lieutenant Colonel Han had gone to great lengths to bring was effective.
There was no propaganda more efficient than winning the favor of children, and no weapon more effective at winning children's favor than chocolate.
"Colonel. Urgent news from the scouts."
An adjutant ran up and reported breathlessly.
"General Richter has withdrawn his forces. They are retreating to the main body."
Richter. The brilliant Republican general had pulled back.
"He likely received word that the Durkon Legion is advancing."
War is a battle of information. Victory or defeat is determined by how quickly and accurately one can grasp the enemy's intentions. Richter had sensed the movement of the Imperial main force and sought to preserve his troops before the siege was broken.
However, his speed was much faster than expected. He was truly a general who had seen it all.
"We move out as well."
"Yes, sir!"
The soldiers advanced silently.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of combat boots hitting the ground in unison echoed rhythmically. They were armed with the latest rifles produced by the Aternum factory, their supplies and ammunition were fully stocked, and they had repeated countless live-fire drills before being deployed here.
Above all, there was a guaranteed reward waiting for them for risking their lives.
Their eyes overflowed with confidence and morale. No one from Bertun intended to die on the battlefield.
They only intended to kill.
...
BOOM—!
The Durkon Legion arrived at their destination, 'Alcantara Road,' like a gale. As soon as they reached the strategic point leading to the capital of Zerpa, the legion unleashed overwhelming firepower.
"Sweep them all away."
At Major General Schweitzer's command, the earth was overturned. New magi-engineering cannons spat fire, and the mages of the Magic Tower cast wide-area spells.
From the opposite side, the Bertun unit advanced. They attacked the siege lines with organized movements. Simultaneously, the King's forces poured out from inside the capital.
"Advance—!"
A blitzkrieg striking the enemy from both inside and out.
—The Imperial Knights maneuvered amidst that chaos.
I did not have the knights wear Sentinel uniforms.
One of the Empire's most foolish ways of utilizing knights was their obsession with uniforms. Because of that damn pride that refused to give up uniforms even in war, knights had been relegated to being highly visible targets.
Instead, I provided Leon and the zero-year recruits with artifact armor enchanted with weight reduction and camouflage magic.
We moved stealthily, wiping out the enemy's high-value assets. Commanders, swordsmen, mages, as well as tanks and artillery batteries... The Republican army, which had relied on their internal eavesdropping, collapsed rapidly.
Nevertheless, General Richter's reinforcements arrived without delay, and a very fierce resistance unfolded. However, after a full-scale battle, the Imperial Army and the monarchy succeeded in completely seizing 'Alcantara Road.'
It was the first victory for the Royalist faction.
However, the front line dividing the north and south of Zerpa remained. The significance of seizing Alcantara Road was that it broke the siege connecting them to the Empire.
At the very least, the tragedy of residents starving to death, as had happened before my regression, would not occur now. I had the wealth to pour supplies into Zerpa.
Crackle. Crackle.
The land was thick with the smoke of gunpowder. Embers burned in various places, and the groans of the wounded mixed into the air of this death trap.
I stood there, quietly surveying the battlefield.
The feeling... is always shit.
But I had to get used to it. From now on, the Empire would endlessly repeat such tedious wars.
Step—
Suddenly, someone walked toward me from the other side.
"Knight Maximilian."
The commander of the Durkon Legion, Schweitzer.
He approached me with a stiff expression. I nodded as I faced him.
"Good work."
"..."
However, he did not hide his displeasure. Having been swayed by my letter to come all the way here, his pride must have been wounded.
"The Durkon Legion is just as I heard."
Durkon was one of the 'toughest legions in the Empire,' as Leon had said. Massacring civilians was not something one could do without a certain level of mental fortitude.
"Your speed of advancement was impressive."
Their commander, Major General Schweitzer, was also a master of high-speed warfare. He was among the youngest in the general ranks, and his combat instincts were excellent, but he did not hesitate to commit atrocities so cruel they made one suspect an emotional deficiency.
Massacres of civilians, execution of prisoners, looting.
Schweitzer was a Class 1 war criminal, just like Johann.
He was one of the so-called 'first to be executed,' the ones who were hanged first at the war crimes tribunal after the Empire's fall.
"...There was an order from the Imperial Palace."
Schweitzer said this to me, his nose twitching.
In that appearance, the scene of his trial before my regression overlapped.
[ I simply did what I was best at. To the very end, I was the best. The proof is that none of you could defeat me in the end. ]
Far from reflecting on his actions, he had sneered at the Allied generals, pointing at them one by one.
[ I! Never! Lost to you! Not even once—! ]
Those were his last words.
"It was a special mission from the Palace. Thanks to that, I came here even at the risk of falling out of favor with them."
"Is that so?"
"Can you provide some compensation, Sir Knight? I heard you gave out quite a lot of things in Genen."
The way to handle people differs from person to person.
I couldn't know everyone's heart, but my greatest weapon was still 'information.'
"..."
I recalled the book Faces of the Imperial Era that I had read before my regression. Quite a few pages had been dedicated to Schweitzer, the Class 1 war criminal.
"Major General Schweitzer."
I took a step toward him. I looked into his eyes from right in front of him.
"As you well know."
One must not attempt to negotiate with Schweitzer.
He was not a man with whom negotiation worked.
"A general of the Empire does not take orders from the Imperial Palace."
One must not offer material inducements to Schweitzer.
He did not particularly care for wealth.
"They only follow the will of the Imperial Command."
Schweitzer was quite tall for someone with a receding hairline. Our eyes met at the same level, and his gaze did not waver as he faced me.
It meant he was a soldier who was not easily intimidated.
"Was the order you received from His Majesty?"
Therefore, I had to treat him as if I were going to break him.
Since he was a soldier with very harsh abilities and temperament, I had to be the one thinking of killing him first.
"Or was it from some nameless noble residing in the Palace?"
Now—Schweitzer's treatment would be decided by how he answered.
If he claimed it was the Emperor's order when it wasn't, it was execution for treason.
If it was the order of some nameless noble in the Palace, that also became a problem of a shadow power—an abuse of authority.
Because of this, he remained silent.
"Major General. A knight, as the sword of the Empire, has the authority to monitor the discipline of the military."
I lowered my voice.
"If you moved the army according to the private will of a mere servant of the Palace, someone with no connection to the military, rather than the Command... and if that is why you planned to stay hunkered down here instead of advancing..."
Schweitzer.
This war criminal was the typical type of person who could only be controlled by gripping his leash tightly.
"I will, right now. In accordance with the military law of the battlefield and the code of the Imperial Knights..."
I say it again: my greatest weapon is information from the future.
I not only understood the type of person Schweitzer was, but I also saw through every 'trajectory of life' of the Class 1 war criminals.
It meant their weaknesses, their strengths, and even what they liked were vivid in my mind.
"...have the authority to take your head."
Shring—!
I drew the longsword wrapped in bandages. In the midst of the moonlight mixing with the smoke of gunpowder, the white bandages fluttered and swirled between the two of us.
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