Chapter 79.1

The Northern Divine Power (2)

A plague broke out in the North—swift and deadly, unlike anything seen before.

Yet the witches, who were supposed to halt its spread, were not in good condition either.

They could only stand helplessly and watch as the disease spread uncontrollably.

The pride of the Northerners, once soaring high with their spices, fertilizers, porcelain, and paintings, plummeted to the ground.

The public sentiment of the North, which once sang of paradise, hit rock bottom as if it had never soared before.

Coincidentally, the plague began after the visit of the bell-ringing witch, further tarnishing the Northerners’ view of the witches.

“What’s the reaction from the Kingdoms’ Alliance? Any word from Sigma infiltrating Bardenheim?”

Canbraman, the Crown Prince, who was behind this incident, asked Prime Minister Carasso while reading the report on the Northern situation.

“They haven’t even grasped the situation in Bardenheim yet. It happened so suddenly, after all.”

The prime minister replied with a rare soft smile.

Inside the imperial palace, the Spring Palace—where the Crown Prince usually conducted affairs of state—exuded a cozy atmosphere, befitting its name.

Canbraman was seated on a silver chair symbolizing the regent, placed just below the golden throne, as he reviewed state matters.

“Your Highness, the Northern Relief Army has just completed preparations for departure.”

At that moment, a royal knight approached from the entrance of the grand hall, knelt, and made his report.

“Understood.”

After hearing the report, Canbraman organized the documents he had been reviewing and set them aside.

He intended to personally see off the troops.

The Empire had decided to send one legion to the North.

The army was named not for an expedition or a punitive campaign but as the Northern Relief Army, departing under the pretense of saving the Northerners suffering from the plague.

The army’s commander was Ricard, the Imperial Champion and a superhuman on par with a Sword Master.

‘I hope nothing happens while Ricard is away.’

This was a gamble by Canbraman, who was sacrificing the safety of both himself and his father, the Emperor.

“I will personally bestow Buol, the enchanted golden axe crafted in the Magic Tower, to Ricard.”

Though Balzac and Sun were present in the North, they were of little concern.

The North was in turmoil due to the plague, which did not spare soldiers or knights.

In such a situation, it was impossible for the only two superhumans there to face the entire Imperial army.

“Your Highness, Archbishop Teresia is said to be arriving soon.”

“Good. The Archbishop must also attend. We can depart together once she arrives.”

Moreover, the Church had sent a large number of paladins and high-ranking priests in support this time.

The justification and the forces were impeccable.

This was a battle that could not be lost, even if one wanted to lose.

‘However… this means we won’t be able to annex the entire North into the Imperial domain.’

On another note, it left an unpleasant feeling, as though enduring hardship only to hand over the spoils to someone else.

‘It can’t be helped.’

With a sigh, Canbraman rose from the regent’s seat.

The waiting attendants approached to inspect his attire.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

Just then, a minister rushed into the grand hall in a panic.

‘Your Majesty?’

The minister had committed the grave offense of addressing the Crown Prince, Canbraman, as “Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty!”

“…?”

The approaching minister turned out to be the Chief Chamberlain, responsible for managing the Emperor’s chambers.

“His Imperial Majesty, the late Emperor Soled Ra Goit, has just passed away. From this moment, His Majesty Canbraman Ra Goit is the sovereign ruler of the Empire.”

“!!”

“Long live the Emperor! Glory to the Millennial Empire!”

The chamberlain, tears streaming down his face, shouted.

“Long live the Emperor!”

“Glory to the Millennial Empire!”

“Long live the Emperor!”

“Glory to the Millennial Empire!”

As if in a chain reaction, the grand hall resounded with shouts praising the birth of the new Emperor.

“Well then… so my father has passed away after all. Truly, a tragedy for the Empire!”

Although now crowned Emperor, Canbraman put on a sorrowful expression.

“……”

“……”

However, the Prime Minister and officials in the grand hall clearly saw it—the new Emperor Canbraman’s eyes were smiling.

“Prepare for the late Emperor’s funeral and the coronation ceremony at once!”

Canbraman calmed the officials before speaking.

“And the departure of the Relief Army… will be postponed.”

The North, in its current state, was already severely crippled and would not recover easily.

There was no harm in acting a little later.

“Once the late Emperor’s funeral is completed and the coronation ceremony is over, I will personally lead the Relief Army to the North.”

No matter how significant the Northern expedition was, it paled in importance compared to the late Emperor’s funeral and his own coronation.

“The Northern expedition will be my first campaign as Emperor. Increase the scale further!”

With those words, he ascended to the golden throne.

Although he had yet to don the imperial crown due to the pending coronation, he could now sit on the throne.

‘This is it! This is what I’ve longed for!’

As he sat on the throne, Canbraman looked down at the grand hall, his de facto office.

Everything seemed new.

‘Finally… At last, I have become Emperor!’

The position of regent and that of Emperor were entirely different.

Neither the Imperial nobility nor the Church dared challenge the authority of the Emperor.

While it was not absolute, it was far from weak.

If an Emperor casually uttered the words “Die,” one would at least have to feign death.

“What is the meaning of this!? Suddenly delaying the expedition?”

Right then, Archbishop Teresia’s voice echoed from outside, filled with confusion and agitation.

A moment later, she strode into the grand hall in quick steps, her expression a mix of shock and urgency.

“How can you do this all of a sudden…! Ah…!”

Just as she was about to protest, she saw Canbraman seated on the golden throne and stopped herself.

“Your Majesty.”

She quickly bowed her head in deference.

In that brief moment, she had grasped the situation.

“I will… hasten the preparations for the coronation.”

With those words, she promptly left the grand hall.

The red eyes of Canbraman, seated on the throne, burned with unprecedented euphoria.

***

Here in Arcadia, soap had existed for over a hundred years.

If one included the Golden Age, its history stretched even further back.

Regardless, this other world, unlike Earth’s Middle Ages, fortunately possessed at least a rudimentary concept of hygiene.

As a result, people used soap for washing, whether in the sweltering South or the freezing North.

“Of course, that’s only by the standards of those living modestly comfortable lives.”

I said this as I looked at the medical kit I’d named “His Highness the Grand Duke’s Care Kit.”

“Thanks to you, many more Northerners will now use soap. We’ve succeeded in mass production, and it even smells good.”

Mary, standing beside me, said this while placing soap into the care kit.

Puff—

A short pipe filled with mana-infused tobacco was clenched in her mouth.

“You’re not even a full witch, so why do you smoke that so much?”

I looked at her with mild curiosity.