Chapter Two: For Whom We Fight
I
The Principality of Stonia in the center of Duvedirica shared a border with the Kingdom of Fernest. It was ruled by Prince Sylvester von Bernstein in concordance with four elder nobles, known colloquially as the Four Sages. The nation was divided into five regions. The central region was the domain of Prince Sylvester, while the other four, divided into north, south, east, and west, were each under the dominion of one of the Four Sages.
Like the United City-States of Sutherland, Stonia had declared neutrality when war first broke out. But now, like their neighbor the Swaran Kingdom, it was a vassal state to the empire, no better than a lapdog.
“You’re all here,” Sylvester said. In response to his summons, he and the Four Sages were gathered in a room at his home of Colchis Castle. In contradiction of the clear blue sky that stretched out above their heads, all the faces at the round table were dark and stormy. The source of the dismal mood was a letter delivered by an envoy of the empire that, in its essentials, contained an order for them to declare war on the Holy Land of Mekia.
Sylvester was thirty-eight years old. He’d inherited the title of prince, the seventeenth of his line. Before the war, his hair had been deep gold as though dipped in honey, but now it was heavily streaked with white, clear evidence of the toll those years had taken on him.
“I could understand it if they were telling us to invade Fernest, but why Mekia?” demanded the sage of the north, a vein bulging in his temple. “That land is home to the founding institution of the Holy Illuminatus Church. Invading could bring the wrath of all the faithful on the continent down on us.”
Sylvester digested this in silence. Worshippers of Goddess Strecia the Creator were in abundant supply throughout the continent. He could well imagine what terrible revenge those worshippers might seek if he were to achieve victory in such an invasion. To further complicate matters, the Holy Illuminatus Church kept its own army, the Knights of the Sanctuary. The rumors said they were only a single division, but that they were as peerlessly elite as they were few in number. If they were to march, fighting against them and pushing them back would be a formidable task.
In the end, Stonia will suffer whether we win or lose. No good can come of this, only harm. It’s a devious ploy on the empire’s part, and yet I, the prince, can’t say a word in protest. What a joke. While Sylvester brooded on his anger for which he had no outlet, the western sage turned to the northern sage and sneered, “I suggest then, Your Grace, that you ask the empire’s envoy. ‘Please, tell us poor fools why we must wage war on the Holy Land of Mekia.’ Only, a master needn’t explain himself to his dog.” The northern sage’s eyes widened in rage, but before he could reply, a loud bang shook the round table. The eastern sage, his face like thunder, had beaten it with his fist.
“If such a thing were possible, the envoy should have long ago tasted my blade! Spare us every impractical proposition. It is offensive to the extreme!”
The western sage chuckled. “Then what would you have us do? If we don’t spring into action, we’ll incur the empire’s displeasure. The envoy awaits our reply over in the guest chambers.”
The eastern and western sages exchanged a few more barbs, until they were interrupted by the southern sage, a man of close to eighty summers by the name of Roman Casael. He was the leader of the Four Sages, well-known as a moderate who had proposed their stance of neutrality in the beginning. He had also been responsible for Sylvester’s education in the prince’s youth.
“It is one thing for the empire to order an invasion, but when we know not even the extent of their strength...” he said hoarsely. “Does the empire expect us to investigate this too?”
“Your Venerable Lordship will find that information in the documents provided by the empire’s envoy,” said the northern sage, holding up a bundle of papers and drawing everyone’s attention. The documents were distributed, and each man began to peruse their contents. For a while, the only sound in the room was the rustling of turning pages.
Finally, the eastern sage tossed the papers onto the round table with a snort of irritation. “Well, the empire came prepared. They seem mighty keen on making us fight.”
“According to this, they have between forty and fifty thousand soldiers...” the western sage continued, stroking his chin. “If I recall correctly, Mekia’s population should only be around a million. Perhaps the empire made a mistake with these calculations?”
The Principality of Stonia had over three million citizens, and even they could mobilize at most only sixty thousand. Whether in peacetime or wartime, training soldiers cost an enormous amount of gold. With the empire already demanding financial contributions to the war effort, if they increased the size of their army, they would face not only the threat of damage to the economy but the eventual bankruptcy of the nation itself.
As such, Sylvester shared the western sage’s incredulity. But the northern sage who, of all of them, was the most knowledgeable in the state of the world, said, “No, these figures aren’t necessarily mistaken. The Holy Land of Mekia has rich mineral resources, and all their ore is of exceptional quality, not to mention their stoneworking techniques. Despite their high prices, Mekian-produced stone and ornaments practically fly out of merchants’ hands, as anyone who’s visited themselves could tell you.”
“Which is to say that, contrary to our assumptions, Mekia can afford to maintain a large army. A most enviable position in this day and age,” said the eastern sage, and the northern sage nodded in agreement. It was a rare moment of accord between the pair who were usually at odds over something or other.
“Prince Sylvester, I imagine the envoy’s patience will be wearing thin,” said Roman, speaking for all four sages as he tacitly urged the prince to deliver his decision. Sylvester looked up at the ceiling to avoid the old man’s milky white eyes. They had discussed many things, but Sylvester had known from the start what his answer would be.
When it comes down to it, my answer is that we never had a choice... he thought. Feeling the eyes of the Four Sages on him, he heaved a deep sigh as though to expel all the resentment that had built up within him. Then, he spoke: “Though it grates on me to no end, we saw what happened to Swaran. We have no choice but to obey. I doubt the Helios Knights would stay quietly in their lair at Kier Fortress if we were to refuse.”
Roman nodded, the deep lines in his face deepening further as he said, “Yes, there is nothing to be done.” Although the other three looked dubious, none of them raised any argument. In a way, it was the only natural reaction. After the Helios Knight had conquered the “impenetrable” Kier Fortress, there was no room to doubt their might. So Sylvester thought as he drank his tea. It had long since gone cold.
The room grew still and gloomy, until the eastern sage, struck by some recollection, said, “That’s right. I heard a rumor that the Kingdom of Fernest defeated the Helios Knights not long ago. Is it true?”
“I cannot speak to the truth of it, but it is true that such a rumor has been spreading, mostly amongst the common folk,” the northern sage agreed magnanimously, rubbing his chin. Sylvester had heard that the Royal Army had defeated the Crimson Knights, but the empire was so dominant over Fernest that he’d assumed the miraculous victory was the result of no more than a confluence of coincidences.
But what if this rumor about the Helios Knights’ defeat turns out to be true...? he thought. It would mean that two of the three pillars supporting the empire had toppled. If the stories were to be believed, the final pillar would not fall easily. But into the midst of what had seemed like endless darkness, there now penetrated a single bright ray of hope, and Sylvester was not the only one to see it.
“Could the tides be turning?” asked the western sage, a cheerful note in his voice.
The northern sage nodded and, in the same tone, said, “Maybe so. Even the imperial army can’t go from victory to victory forever. And of course, the Royal Army has Cornelius, the Invincible General. Perhaps the war has not been going well for the empire as of late.”
“If so, it’s only too easy to see what the bastards are thinking,” said the eastern sage with an audacious grin. “I’d say they plan on whittling down our forces—before we start turning our sagacious minds to areas they’d prefer we didn’t.” Just like that, the three sages were poised to dive into another lively debate, until Roman cut in sharply.
“Be that as it may. Do you therefore intend to turn on the empire?” The other three sages looked at one another, then fell silent. Roman’s words had hit them, and Sylvester, too, like a splash of cold water. Even if it was true that the war was going badly for the empire, they in Stonia had no way of evading its demand now. Even more so if the objective was to deplete their own forces. The idea of going into an alliance with the Kingdom of Fernest did occur to him, but that would require backdoor negotiations they were far too short on time to carry out.
No matter how you look at it, we’re trapped. In the end, it’s just how I predicted at the start... Sylvester felt a self-deprecating laugh escape him. He turned to Roman and said flatly, “Summon the envoy to the audience chamber.”
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