Chapter 87.2

I continued.

“Nothing divides people like greed, Your Highness.”

Letting their greed focus solely on the North would tear it apart.

“Dispersing their attention is the most important thing right now.”

Redirecting the Empire’s greed inward was critical. At present, the tools I’d handed over to Entir were the most effective means to provoke such desires.

“Steam engines, looms, spinning machines, and sewing machines are like a plague—a kind of epidemic that will spark division and polarization within the Empire.”

“…?”

At the mention of the word “plague,” Arina’s expression turned curious.

“Plague? Do you mean something akin to republicanism, as you mentioned before? Like the Republic of Feje in the Union of Kingdoms?”

“If Entir Bishop grows properly, the Empire could see the rise of a commoner class even more powerful than the Republic of Feje, a nation of merchants.”

To fracture and weaken the Empire, some level of economic and social growth was necessary.

“They say democracy starts at $10,000 GDP per capita for a reason.”

The Empire would grow—but a growing Empire would also divide, much like a certain nation on Earth that became an economic powerhouse but succumbed to polarization and conflict.

“Hmm…”

Having explained this much, Arina seemed to mostly agree.

“It’s risky, but it seems like the best option.”

“Count Arad Jin’s words have merit,” some of the surrounding advisors chimed in.

“I trust Count Jin. But I’m still uneasy. I can’t shake the saying: ‘When the tiger is gone, the wolves will come.’”

Even so, Arina wasn’t entirely at ease. She couldn’t let go of the concern that a grown Entir and empowered imperial merchants might one day devour the Imperial Family and even threaten the North.

“You needn’t worry, Your Highness. Before he becomes a ruler of the Empire, we’ll foster another power to counterbalance him.”

“Another power?”

“The House of Nobles, the Union of Kingdoms, the Golden Tower… or even the soon-to-be-crowned Emperor.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“…I’d prefer strengthening the Imperial Church instead.”

When I mentioned the Emperor, Arina visibly frowned.

“Then how about the new Imperial Crown Prince, Julian?”

“Hmm… Julian, you say?”

At the mention of Julian, Arina’s frown softened.

“Julian might be more dangerous than Canbraman in the long run.”

Recalling Julian’s role in the original timeline, I thought of the so-called “Compassionate Julian.”

He was an exceptional Emperor, renowned for his benevolence, but beneath that exterior lay a shrewd political mind far more adept than his father’s.

For now, however, public opinion largely regarded him as weak, which explained Arina’s relative ease.

In any case, if Entir’s steampunk revolution gained momentum, Julian would be the perfect imperial figure to maintain balance.

***

Last year, after the funeral of the late Emperor Soled, winter had come.

It wasn’t fitting to hold a coronation in winter, so the Empire had spent the intervening months commemorating the long-reigning Emperor’s legacy.

Now, with spring’s arrival, the Imperial Palace was abuzz with coronation preparations.

Countless envoys from across the continent flocked to the capital.

During this time, even wars were paused, and grudges were set aside temporarily.

The same was true for the envoys from the North.

“Couldn’t the witches and sorcerers of the North spread a devastating plague across the Empire?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gard, the head of the Rune Merchant Group and leader of the Northern envoys, scowled and glared at the speaker.

“Phil! This is the Imperial Palace. Watch what you say!”

Even Entir Bishop, president of Bishop Company, quickly reprimanded her.

Phil, the Northern mercenary’s real identity, was none other than the Mercenary Queen Carpe.

Far from being cowed by their scolding, she merely shrugged her shoulders.

“Haha… My apologies, Lord Gard. I, Entir Bishop, apologize on her behalf.”

“Hmph. It’s fine. Fortunately, the soundproofing magic device was working perfectly.”

“What? Then it’s safe to say whatever we want, isn’t it?”

“What if you slip up somewhere else?!”

“Just be careful, alright? Anyway, why not? Why not spread a plague?”

Carpe asked persistently, her curiosity unabated.

“Because what the Empire’s doing is utterly outrageous. They act all noble and clean on the surface, yet they collude with dark mages to spread plagues in secret! Then they have the audacity to scorn us Northerners as plague carriers!”

She was visibly enraged, likely due to the subtle discrimination she had faced from the Empire’s people during their time in the Imperial Palace.

“Recently, the North has succeeded in shifting perceptions—from the Witch Council to the Renslet Magic Association, and from ancestor spirits to the Renslet Church. Spreading a plague now would make us the continent’s public enemy.”

Gard explained why revenge through plague was not an option.

“We should instead be wary of the Empire staging a self-inflicted plague to frame us.”

Entir Bishop chimed in.

“Besides, the Empire has many mages and priests. Even if we spread something, it would be quickly neutralized.”

“Those damned imperials! They disgust me! Oh, but our employer and Redwolf are exceptions. I’ll recognize them as honorary Northerners.”

“Good grief…”

After much effort to calm Carpe down, Gard and Entir exchanged weary sighs.

They looked around and changed the subject.

“By the way, why do you think the Imperial Family summoned us here? Do you know, Lord Entir?”

“I wasn’t told the details. But if they’re making us wait like this, it must be someone important.”

Entir and Bishop Company were waiting in the palace’s guestroom for someone. Their only escort was Carpe, disguised as a mere attendant.

“Doom? Havana? Or could it be an envoy from the Union of Kingdoms?”

“Maybe the Emperor summoned us? Or Archbishop Teresia? It could even be Yulkanes of the Golden Tower.”

The coronation had gathered even the most reclusive and significant figures, making it difficult to guess who they were waiting for.

The three stared at the untouched tea and refreshments, each lost in thought.

“They’re still using white porcelain here.”

“Is it a matter of pride, refusing to use Northern ceramics? Or are they flaunting their wealth with the fragility of white porcelain?”

“Why hasn’t anyone touched the tea or snacks? Could they be poisoned or laced with truth serum? Should I just eat it and deal with the consequences?”

After an indeterminate wait, the door burst open.

Imperial knights, palace attendants, and maids entered in a flurry.

Whether they intended to startle the guests or had simply forgotten to announce the visitor, no formal heralding occurred.

“Ah… H-hello? I’m… Julian.”

Amidst the commotion, the voice of the one who had called this meeting emerged.

“Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

“We greet Your Highness Julian Ra Goite.”

Julian Ra Goite, newly appointed Crown Prince of the Empire, appeared with a bashful demeanor.