It might just be a trivial thing, wondering how he will respond.
As I observe the situation, his actions soon unfold, and they catch me entirely off guard.
“The Prophetess of the Oracle, huh? Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Supposedly the greatest prophet in history who foretold the location of the Demon King’s castle.
And so what?
Just because a few of your words were accurate, you think you’re invincible?
Get real.
This is the North. Not your sacred land.
We Northerners don’t believe in gods.
Do you know why?
Faith in gods weakens one’s belief in oneself. It’s about relying on some deity instead of yourself.
And here, depending on others is the most foolish thing you can do—it’ll get you killed.
That’s why we don’t need that nonsense, and we can still defeat demons.
The demons fear us. The fact that the last invasion of Redros was 80 years ago proves it.
Unlike the West, which was nearly destroyed by something as trivial as Balion!”
“Pfft.”
Oops, I let out a laugh without meaning to.
Feigning surprise, I hurriedly covered my mouth. I pretended to care to save face.
Although, truthfully, I wanted to burst out laughing and mock him outright.
But at least some semblance of decorum needed to remain intact.
As I glanced around and occasionally checked him, I could see his face contort in real-time. He must have thought I was laughing at him.
If that’s what he thinks, then he’s absolutely right.
Because I find him utterly ridiculous.
‘What an idiot. Even if it’s the North, it’s not like the center is all that different from anywhere else, and yet he acts like this.’
If I were to rate him, I’d give him the lowest possible score.
Everything he said was so wrong that I can’t help but find it absurd.
His words are riddled with flaws. From his comments on faith to his statements about the North, there are plenty of holes.
But let’s put faith and the North aside for now.
His most fatal and arrogant flaw is one specific assumption:
He thinks we’re afraid of them.
We didn’t avoid war with them out of fear of losing. We simply chose not to fight.
Or rather, to be precise, we couldn’t.
War isn’t something you can engage in just because you feel like it.
You need food, manpower, and money—all three.
Of course, it’s not that we’re incapable of mustering these things.
While I may not be able to do anything in my position, Redros could easily gather an army capable of waging a great war at any moment.
But even though it’s possible, he hasn’t started a war.
The reasons include his reserved nature and the risks outweighing the rewards, even with victory.
But the biggest reason is that the Demon King forbade war.
It’s an absurd order, to be sure.
Naturally, there was much opposition, and some refused to obey.
But Redros, unlike others, was an incredibly loyal subordinate and adhered to the decree.
But now, the Demon King is dead.
Killed not by another demon but by a human hero.
Which means Redros no longer has to follow the Demon King’s orders.
He can now start a war.
With the Demon King gone, there’s nothing left to restrain Redros.
From now on, the fate of the North will rest solely on his decisions.
And he has the power to make those decisions.
Still, I’m not entirely certain he’ll start a war just yet.
Things are probably quite chaotic on their side too.
But I’m confident it will happen eventually.
After all, he now has the perfect justification for it—revenge for the Demon King.
I don’t know when it will be, but it’s bound to happen someday.
That said, it’s not particularly important to me right now. If war breaks out, I’ll use the chaos to cross over to the demons’ side. And if it doesn’t, I’ll find another way to reach their territory.
So the only thing I need to think about now is how to handle the arrogant fool standing before me.
‘How should I do this?’
How can I make this arrogant fool feel both shame and humiliation?
I thought for a moment and soon decided on a course of action.
I looked at him and spoke.
“Rein, I’d like to teach you a few things you’re lacking. Is that okay with you?”
“Hah, ridiculous! What do you mean by—”
Rein immediately responded, but I interrupted him.
“I won’t take no for an answer. Just listen and cram the things you lack into that empty head of yours. Understand?”
I used slightly harsh words that didn’t match my usual image of benevolence, but that’s fine.
Those words carried a certain weight.
Authority is the most necessary element when pushing an opinion.
Even if it risks shattering my established image, the authority that comes from the gap between the two would add strength to my words.
After finishing my statement, I looked at Rein with an expectant gaze, waiting for his response.
Contrary to my intentions, I didn’t hear any reply from him.
I didn’t mind. In truth, I could guess his thoughts even without a response.
His heavily distorted face seemed to express his disagreement with my suggestion.
Judging by his expression, it looks like he rejected my proposal outright.
Even so, I will speak. After all, he hasn’t verbally refused me.
My assumption of his disagreement is just a prediction based on his expression.
I can’t be certain of his true intentions.
You can’t always discern someone’s intentions from their expressions.
Besides, who knows?
Beneath that expression, he might secretly be looking forward to my lecture.
After all, silence has long been considered tacit consent.
To be honest, even if he had explicitly said he wouldn’t listen, I would’ve forced him to hear me out.
I only asked out of curiosity.
It’s what you’d call a “foregone conclusion.”
After confirming his lack of response, I spoke again.
“Rein, words have power. That power is the force to change, create, and bestow.”
The method I’ve decided on to discipline him is through words.
Truthfully, I’d love to crush him with physical strength, but that’s not an option.
Unless he attacks me first, I have no choice but to deal with him verbally.
So all I can do now is provoke him as much as possible with my words and deal psychological damage.
Ideally, he’ll lose his temper and attack me. Then I’ll have the justification to use force against him.
The effectiveness of this method is already starting to show.
As proof, Rein’s face grew even more distorted after I interrupted his words.
I fixed my gaze on his face and continued speaking.
“Words grant us meaning, create existence from that meaning, and transform that existence.
The power contained in words is incredibly useful, yet simultaneously dangerous—like a double-edged sword. Do you know why? There is only one reason.
Because once spoken, words cannot be taken back.
That is why we must always be careful when wielding this power.
We must use it with caution and deliberation, for it cannot be undone.”
I paused here, taking a moment to gauge the reactions around me. I wanted to decide how best to continue.
Having determined the general direction, I spoke again.
“Thus, our mouths must not open too easily. Our words must carry weight. The more influence we have, the heavier our words must become, especially when we speak often. This is to prevent the misuse of the power of words.
And above all, a leader’s words must carry the most weight.
Every time a leader speaks, they must think twice.
They must always consider whether their words could cause harm, and thoroughly examine them.
This is because a leader is in a position to guide many.”
Looking around, I saw that everyone was watching us. Well, this kind of scene doesn’t happen every day.
All the better. Let more people gather.
“For a leader, words are one of their most important tools.
A leader derives their power from the respect of those they lead.
Therefore, a leader must always be respected, and words are the best tool for earning that respect.
After all, words can most easily move human emotions.
A person who belittles others and speaks frivolously, like a common thug, will never earn the respect of others.
Such behavior is something anyone can do. It inspires no admiration.
But, in contrast, a person who respects everyone and imbues their words with sincere meaning—what we call ‘a person of weighty words’—will earn the respect of others. That is something not just anyone can do.
Humans tend to revere and respect those who can do what they themselves cannot.
The awe and respect born from this wrap around the leader. And those qualities, in turn, become the leader’s strength.”
“Ridiculous. What good is respect from lowly people…?”
While I was catching my breath, Rein tried to respond with a sneer.
“That is why the words of a leader must always carry dignity and weight. And each word spoken must bear significant meaning.”
And so, I interrupted Rein once again.
Interrupting someone while they speak is an extreme breach of etiquette.
Cutting someone off implies that their words are not worth listening to, which is tantamount to ignoring them.
Perhaps because of this, Rein’s expression darkened even further.
He looked like he might explode at any moment, likely holding back only because of my unique position.
‘Just a little more, and something is bound to happen,’ I thought as I observed him.
Naturally, I decided to continue, now with a look of pity and disdain.
“But how about you, Sir Rein? From what I see… your words are utterly frivolous. Since earlier, the things coming out of your mouth have been nothing but garbage, filled with baseless insults, and so cheap that they carry no weight at all.
Such behavior makes one think that you, Sir Rein, are nothing more than trash undeserving of respect.”
This is the highlight. From here, I’ll begin thoroughly humiliating him.
I clasped my hands together, raised my voice so that everyone around us could hear, and spoke with a tone full of regret.
“Sir Rein, I am truly regretful! And I am truly disappointed! It feels as though someone undeserving is occupying your position!
Sir Rein, what have you done to earn your current position? Was it anything more than the sheer luck of being born into a duke’s family?”
Normally, even I wouldn’t say something like this so openly. But my current target is someone notorious enough to be called a scoundrel.
So it’s fine to mock him outright.
No one will protect him. In fact, some people might even find it satisfying.
“You—do you think you can just get away with saying this to me?”
His voice, full of anger, boomed as he pointed at me with his eyes wide open.
To that, I responded with a bright smile.
“For most people, no. But for me? It’s possible.”
Then, contrasting with his near-bursting demeanor, I calmly folded my hands and said,
“Sir Rein, do you understand the weight of my words?”
He gave no answer. Of course, he likely didn’t want to respond.
I steadied myself. From this point forward, I would invoke the authority of my position for the first time in this setting.
To be honest, it’s been a while since I last invoked this authority. While I’ve used authority before, it’s been ages since it was necessary.
In the Demon’s Territory, just hearing my name was enough to make everyone bow.
Although this position of Prophetess is a false one, it’s truly ironic how real the authority it wields is.
So I can do this.