“Sir, the recruitment efforts you requested have been completed smoothly. They all seemed to have many doubts, but in the end, they’ve decided to join us.”
“Good. Was there anyone who insisted on keeping their loyalty until the end?”
“There were a few. I still don’t understand why they’d want to maintain their loyalty to people who’ll never recognize their lifelong devotion…”
“Well, it’s their choice, I suppose. There are fools in this world who know something is a loss but can’t let go of it.”
Not just me, but also Major General Vaden, Colonel Kys, and others— our trustworthy subordinates.
After several days of effort through social gatherings and banquets, we were able to achieve a rather satisfactory result.
Out of the eighty or so candidates we had targeted, we succeeded in securing over 90% of them.
From captains to colonels and even brigadier generals, we managed to pull in key figures from across the military’s central ranks.
Each of them had grievances with the existing system, and as long as we continue to wield power, they are treasures who will never betray us.
“So, how should we assign these people?”
“First, let’s place those who prefer rear-line duties into our Revolutionary Army. Oh, right, it’s not the Revolutionary Army anymore, is it?”
“You should call it the Central Army. How can the person who named it forget?”
“I just forgot for a moment, you fool.”
The people we secured were placed in appropriate positions according to their hopes and aptitudes.
Those who specialized in logistics or administration were assigned to the new Central Army.
They filled the gaps left by the shattered elite guard and royal defense forces, stepping into the void we created in the wake of our Revolutionary Army.
By suppressing the royalty and nobility and justifying our presence in the capital, we absorbed their roles. This, of course, led to a massive surge in administrative demands.
Since there were so many changes in how supplies were received and how duties were handled, we needed to expand the workforce dedicated to document processing.
“If anyone wants to go to the front lines…”
“We’ll mix them in with our people who are being transferred this time. It will make management easier.”
“It’ll also help build camaraderie and form stronger bonds with us.”
“Exactly. If we’re going to be one team, we should learn to work well together, don’t you think? The best way to build mutual trust is through shared hardship and work.”
For those who preferred field assignments, I decided to mix them with my original subordinates who were about to be transferred out of the Central Army.
Since I planned to send a few people to seize control of the newly formed units, they would join those groups.
This was a personnel move with the intention of letting the seasoned veterans, those with real battlefield experience, work alongside them, helping them gain experience while also fostering inner bonds with us.
There would be no point in making them allies only to send them off separately.
But what if someone wanted to lead a unit but didn’t want to go to the front lines?
In that case, I filled the vacancies left by those transferred out of the Central Army.
Guarding the capital is always a shortcut to success in any era.
“The disposal of those who refused until the end…”
“Killing them would be too much. Let’s demote them to a useless, dead-end unit, one far from any path to success.”
“I’ll instruct the Personnel Department at the General Headquarters.”
As for those who ultimately chose not to join us, I decided to slightly sabotage their future prospects.
It wouldn’t do to leave them untouched after rejecting our proposal.
There was also the faint hope that, after continuing their stagnant military careers, they might eventually come back to us one day.
“When does the troop movement begin?”
“In ten days. The units with secured supplies will be sent out first. The Eastern Army will probably be dispatched first, followed by the Western and Northern Armies.”
“Check the departure times for our people and the ones we’ve just recruited. Let me know. I’d like to meet them before they leave for a farewell.”
“Are you going to speak to them yourself, sir? I don’t think it’s necessary for someone as busy as you…”
“Don’t argue, just do it. I said I want to, so why are you deciding for me?”
And finally, the day of departure arrived.
I put on my neatly pressed uniform, adorned with all the medals I had earned, and headed to the barracks to meet my departing subordinates.
“Long time no see, everyone. Finally heading to the front, huh?”
“S-Sir!”
“What brings you all the way here?”
“Is there a reason I have to meet my own people? If I had to give a reason, it’s probably because I know you’ll be struggling ahead, so I wanted to give you some encouragement in advance.”
I patted each of them on the shoulder and embraced them, offering words of encouragement.
Of course, I also gave them a little pocket money in case they needed it when things got tight.
Just like back when I was with the Northern Army, I encouraged everyone in a warm tone, hoping they’d return in triumph.
As I spoke, they were so overwhelmed with emotion that tears began to fall, and they repeatedly shouted their thanks. Was it really that moving?
“If you go to the front lines, it’s going to be tough. The supplies will be scarce, and facing life-threatening situations will be a daily occurrence. Please take care of yourselves and come back alive so we can meet again.”
“Yes! We will definitely return alive!”
“Don’t worry about anything else and just fight with all your strength. The rear will be securely guarded by me and the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction.”
From this day forward, every day—tomorrow, the day after—I made sure to send them off, without missing a single day, until every last one of them had left for the front.
I did so with the heart of a superior who worries about his subordinates, and also, if I’m honest, with a slight ulterior motive: to earn their genuine loyalty through mutual connection and heartfelt devotion.
Both of these feelings were sincere, but if I had to break it down, I’d say the former made up 80%, while the latter was about 20%.
There’s a reason why my subordinates have always trusted and followed me.
After sending them off with a final touch of showmanship and image management, I returned, only to be greeted by a very special guest.
“Nice to meet you, General. I am Camilla von Arschach, from the Arschach family.”
What an unusual guest.
In any world, it’s the same, but in this era—still only beginning to feel the winds of modernization—women’s political involvement is a rare sight.
It’s a time when men work outside while women are expected to handle household chores and social activities.
Whether it’s possible or not is a secondary concern; the truth is, people generally don’t look favorably on it.
Yet, here I was, face to face with someone who, despite not being a man, was stepping into the political arena.
“Thank you for the warm hospitality. This tea… is it the black tea imported from Albione?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. It was brought to us by the General Headquarters for guests.”
Camilla von Arschach.
Despite her youth, she is the heir to one of the kingdom’s most famous coffeehouses, which she runs with remarkable success. The guest who had come to visit.
It seems she enjoys having deep discussions with people.
Considering that coffeehouses are hubs for cultural activities, intellectual debates, and ideological conflicts, it’s essentially where public political opinion is shaped.
Given that she is such a woman, I had no choice but to be cautious around her.
Even though my social standing was higher, if things went wrong between us, it would cause serious trouble.
“So… what brings you all the way to my office, young lady? If you wanted to meet with me, there are certainly better places for that.”
“I wanted to speak with you one-on-one. It’s not really a topic suited for a crowd.”
Such a sensitive subject.
What could be so significant that a noblewoman would risk her reputation for having a secret meeting with a man?
As I was pondering, Lady Camilla leaned her head toward mine and whispered softly,
“I’ll get straight to the point. General, would you consider joining me in taking the king’s head?”
“…..Huh?”
What the hell is she saying?
“Heh, looks like I’ve caught you off guard. But I’m serious. For the future of this country, we need to kill Charles VII and bring down the monarchy. To do that, I need your cooperation, General.”
“…Because I control the capital and hold actual power?”
“Yes! Who else would I ask, if not the one who has already seized power through a coup and taken authority from the royal family and nobility?”
She hid her smile behind a fan and laughed softly.
“Honestly, it’s because you’re someone like that that I’m revealing my true intentions. If I said this to anyone else, I’d be immediately arrested for treason.”
So now, someone I know is brazenly talking about killing the king? Wait, hold on a second. She’s saying to kill the king and overthrow the monarchy, right? But then what?
If the existing regime is completely overthrown, how does she plan to establish a new one?
“If the monarchy disappears, who will govern the country?”
“People like us, the ‘ordinary folks.’ We’re not corrupt like the elites, and we have capable people. We’ll take control of the traditional estates…”
“So, how do you plan to select those capable individuals?”
“We plan to receive recommendations for prominent and competent people from all over the land, and gather them in the capital. We haven’t finalized the details yet, but that seems like the most efficient way.”
I couldn’t say anything. This is essentially a republic.
Is this young lady really thinking about turning the kingdom into a republic?
Unaware of my thoughts, she continued speaking excitedly.
“There should no longer be a system where noble bloodlines inherit power. It’s because of those people that you’ve rebelled, and now look at the state of the kingdom.”
“An era where exceptional elites carry out state affairs and govern the country through rational discussions. That is the right future the kingdom should pursue.”
She extended her hand, flaunting the deep cleavage of her dress, and with a sweet voice, she made her proposal:
“General, would you join me? If you do… I might also be willing to develop a deeper relationship with you.”
I sighed briefly and responded:
“Lady, could you save your wild fantasies for when you’re back home?”
How dare she try to use her looks as a manipulation tactic?