The banquet held at Duke Robagon’s seaside mansion had finally come to an end.
All the guests parted ways with smiles lingering on their lips, exchanging polite goodbyes.
But there was one exception—Prince Gnaeus, the First Prince, who couldn’t quite muster the same grace. He barely nodded at other people’s farewells, giving the bare minimum of acknowledgment.
The nobles, sensing something was off, decided to keep their distance. Even the nicest prince can be a force to avoid when he’s in a foul mood.
“Hmph.”
Even as he boarded his carriage, the prince’s scowl refused to loosen its grip. His thoughts were preoccupied with earlier words exchanged with Kael.
”Your Highness, do you recall the day when the princess and the Imperial Legion arrived here at the province?”
Kael’s words still echoed in his mind, a conversation that refused to fade away:
”As the prince so rightly pointed out, thanks to my strategy, the Imperial Legion returned without a single significant battle. Morale was high, but to say ‘we clearly won’ would be a stretch.”
”Still, the citizens didn’t hesitate to shower the returning forces with praise and cheers. The crowds sang songs—songs that even poked fun at Nobogorod. It was as if the legion had triumphed in a massive battle.”
”And some of them seemed to genuinely believe we’d won a grand victory, Your Highness.”
Reflecting on it, Kael’s description was spot on. The province had been buzzing with excitement, a collective high that stemmed not from the absence of casualties but from the simple fact of “victory.” Victory was victory.
The empire had waged countless wars, and even more battles. Losing a skirmish here and there was inevitable, yet the empire had never lost a war. They might stumble, but they always recovered, turning every setback into a comeback. The Imperial Army never let victory slip from their hands.
”So I must ask, Your Highness. What happens if, in front of these proud citizens, the other side mentions ‘past glories’ and warns that retreating now would empower our enemies to rise from under the shadow of our might?”
Listening to this, the prince finally realized the flaw in his perspective. He had overlooked the core issue—people’s emotions. He had never considered the weight of sentiment, the unpredictable nature of human hearts.
The prince felt a tightening in his chest—a pressure building as he grappled with the reality that Kael had clearly been steps ahead the whole time, even offering the prince a handout in the form of this conversation.
”Lastly, Your Highness, there’s a fatal flaw in your argument. Just because our side offers an olive branch, who says the other side will grab it?”
”If you assume they’ll accept it simply out of benefit and logic, you’re mistaken. People, Your Highness—people are the unpredictable wildcard when deciding the course of events. That’s all.”
Empire citizens wouldn’t easily let go of their pride, of their belief that they’ve remained dominant through past glories. If they shook hands with their adversary, they’d risk undermining their own self-esteem, proving that their adversaries were on a par with them—or worse. They might even prefer to keep the tension, cherishing the belief: “We’re holding our ground, we’re doing just fine against the Empire.” Acknowledging that they were equals—or even worse off—would crumble that pride.
It wasn’t about logic or reason. Emotion would always take precedence over practicality. And this wasn’t just about the prince’s strategy; it was about recognizing human nature.
The prince sighed. “Still… it’s frustrating.”
He couldn’t give up without a fight. But at the same time, he had to confirm it for himself—how would the citizens truly react if faced with such a proposal? Perhaps they were now more concerned with better living standards, more interested in prosperity than pride.
“You never can tell with people. Maybe, just maybe, the citizens…”
“Unfortunately, the timing isn’t good.”
“Right after decisively defeating Nobogorod in a stunning display of power, how could anyone listen seriously to a suggestion for dialogue and peace?”
“Kael, just how far ahead are you thinking?”
The prince felt deeply regretful. He had to bring this person firmly to his side. Yet now, all he could do was bitterly grit his teeth in frustration.
*
“Prince Kael.”
The princess had abruptly called out, stopping in her tracks. I almost bumped into her—Your Highness, you shouldn’t stop so suddenly like that. It’s dangerous!
“Were you already aware of all this?”
“Your Highness?”
“To be honest, I faltered for a moment. Even I, who usually dismissed proponents of peace as nothing more than cowards, found myself swayed. They presented their own compelling reasons, their own visions for the future.”
Given the princess’ usual staunch support for the anti-empire faction, it spoke volumes that she confessed to wavering. Her eyes brimmed with tears of frustration.
What a pure soul. This was a good sign: her ability to consider opposing viewpoints.
“I managed to steady myself, but it was already too late. If not for you, Kael, I might have been swayed completely.”
“It’s quite all right, Your Highness. If anything, it shows how receptive you’ve become to others’ opinions.”
“…You mean, not quite as gullible as a fool?”
“You couldn’t have come this far if you were easily misled, Your Highness.”
Indeed, factional supporters didn’t pick their champions arbitrarily. The nobility weren’t fools; the military weren’t disinterested in political matters. If the princess had any true flaws, they wouldn’t have rallied around her.
“It was impressive how even you, someone opposing the prince, were able to maintain such a strong stance against him.”
“…If the likes of you call me a genius, it’s somewhat comforting.”
“Not a genius, remember?”
“I’m just winging it, spouting ideas as they come to me.”
“Kael, do you truly believe what you’ve said will happen?”
“What I’ve said?”
“Will the citizens of the Empire respond as you suggest?”
“I have no idea.”
“…What?”
The princess blinked in disbelief, her gaze fixed on me, clearly questioning whether her ears had deceived her.
“You don’t know? You have no clue at all, do you?”
“Exactly that. Economic factors, pride, how the citizens will respond—it’s all unpredictable. The only answer I can give is ‘I don’t know.’ Your Highness.”
“But wait, just moments ago you were so confident in your assertions, weren’t you!?”
I shook my head. Certainty about human nature? Impossible. It’s said that even if you understand a river ten miles deep, you’ll never fully grasp the mind of a person a single mile deep.
“All of this was speculation, nothing more than a psychological nudge to pressure the prince.”
“So… when discussing human emotions, there’s no certainty.”
“Indeed. In even the clearest situations, doubt can arise. Conversely, even in circumstances ripe for suspicion, blind trust can flourish. Such is the complexity of the human heart.”
“So you basically manipulated my brother with just that…”
The princess, suddenly, stared at me with a piercing gaze. Before I could ask what was behind that look, she spoke:
“You applied the same psychological tactics when dealing with Nobogorod, didn’t you? Leveraging various scenarios, applying pressure, extracting the maximum possible gain.”
“It… could be described that way, I suppose.”
Did it resemble that? Honestly, hard to say. Back then, I was just following one memory fragment of another life, trying to adapt it to the best of my ability. No genius strategy, no special insight into human nature.
“Perhaps the pro-peace faction will make a move within the next few days.”
“Yes. The current scenario, marked by triumph without direct combat, is quite favorable. It will resonate with the citizens.”
“And you, Your Highness, should align with that. Sometimes psychological influence carries far more power than practicality.”
The princess nodded slowly, seeming to process this advice.
“Kael, I have one more question.”
“Please ask.”
“Why, even while seemingly agreeing with my brother’s pro-peace stance, do you continue to counterbalance it?”
“An obvious question, isn’t it? Naturally, it’s for the sake of our family.”
The Bertier Duke’s house had always been deeply tied to the military. It wouldn’t do to shift entirely toward diplomacy and risk losing its clout. I didn’t want to show weakness in front of my parents.
“However—”
Of course, delivering that answer directly would be a bit uncomfortable for my current image. I opted for a more tactful explanation instead.
“The prince’s strategy is premature. These ideals are better left for after we’ve grounded reality.”
“…If you’re right, this time too, Kael… I might need you to accompany me somewhere.”
“What?”
“Where? I have no idea. But you’ll come!”
“Yes?”
Uh… why, where to? Some clarity on the destination would be appreciated!
“Your Highness?”
Ah. Did I overstep somehow? Even though I acted in our family’s best interest, siding with the pro-war faction felt more prudent. Now, aiding the princess like this left me feeling uneasy.
