Even in times of war, there are certain courtesies that must be observed between parties, especially in the way emissaries are sent and received.
For this reason, even though the negotiation delegation was hastily assembled, it wasn’t put together carelessly.
On the contrary, it was cautiously composed of individuals deemed most necessary.
“The position of chief envoy is naturally yours, Your Excellency. But who should we appoint as deputy envoy?”
“With all due respect to the Central Army, it can’t be a soldier. It must be someone capable of employing diplomatic language.”
“What about Lady Arschach?”
“That won’t do. She must oversee the capital in my absence. It would be better to yield that position to the noble faction. After all, we agreed to include a few of their members.”
Of course, political interference played a role in this as well.
“The nobles? That will surely lead to conflict…”
“We’ll have to endure it. No matter how dominant our faction may be, we cannot unilaterally conduct negotiations with a foreign nation.”
Even though my faction held the majority in the assembly, it wasn’t an absolute grip on power.
The opposition, primarily the noble faction, still accounted for about a third of the assembly.
If we completely excluded them and monopolized state affairs, it would undoubtedly provoke backlash—possibly rebellion or even armed conflict.
There’s also no ruling out the possibility that someone might imitate my own actions.
With precedents already set, why wouldn’t they?
To mitigate this risk, it’s essential to give them a share of the pie, even if only nominally.
This way, when the negotiations are concluded, there will be no room for claims of tampering or allegations undermining the treaty’s credibility.
“So, we’ll yield this position for now. As for someone suitable from the Foreign Ministry…”
“Let’s leave two scribe positions open as well. Losing those would be the least burdensome.”
Thus, the chief plenipotentiary envoy was naturally me, with full authority over the negotiations.
I was entrusted to conclude treaties without requiring approval from the assembly or the king.
The deputy envoy was Count Eppenstein, father of a certain deserter who abandoned his post as a grenadier regiment commander because military life was too arduous.
He is currently a senior member of the assembly and a seasoned diplomat from the Foreign Ministry.
The working-level staff was split evenly between experienced Foreign Ministry officials handpicked by my older brother and promising talents introduced through Lady Arschach, with a few members of the noble faction added.
For security, a battalion of the Central Army was assigned as an escort.
“Will this arrangement suffice?”
“It’s not perfect, but it should be adequate. We’ve included several seasoned veterans, after all.”
“These individuals will assist you with matters you’re less familiar with, Your Excellency, including drafting the negotiation documents.”
And so, the delegation was finalized within ten days.
Amid the fervent cheers of the citizens in the capital, we embarked on our journey to the Empire.
Predictably, things began to go awry right from the start.
“So, the day has finally come. I had hoped it wouldn’t.”
“I still question whether these negotiations are truly necessary. We’ve seized the upper hand—why stop now? Wouldn’t it be better to press the Empire until they’re completely subdued?”
Even as I silently gazed out the window, Count Eppenstein continued his relentless chatter.
I had specially arranged for a soundproof carriage, assuming we’d need a private space for discreet discussions on the road. Regret was now creeping in.
If I had to endure this man’s incessant talking, I might have been better off riding a horse instead.
One would think that my silence might convey a lack of interest in conversation, but the count seemed utterly oblivious, his enthusiasm undiminished.
“Representative Royten—no, Vice Speaker Royten—have you reconsidered? Perhaps it’s not too late to turn back to the capital—”
“Count Eppenstein, what exactly is your dissatisfaction?”
Unable to hold back my irritation any longer, I finally spoke up, putting an end to his one-sided tirade.
“Thanks to the victories I’ve secured, the Empire has been forced to retreat, even to the point of begging for several years of respite. When such a rare opportunity presents itself, you should know how to make the most of it. Why, then, are you so eager for more?”
“Ah, no, I’m merely saying it feels wasteful to stop here… After all, aren’t you a soldier as well, Vice Speaker? You’ve spent your life fighting for the Kingdom’s victories! Doesn’t it feel frustrating to agree to a ceasefire at a time like this?”
“A soldier’s duty is not to blindly destroy the enemy but to pursue an efficient victory. Ignoring practical realities and charging into battle without thought isn’t the act of a soldier—it’s the act of a rabid dog.”
Even during assembly deliberations, the noble faction often acted like this. Why, I wondered, were they so insistent on this unreasonable push for continued warfare?
If victory could always be achieved by recklessly advancing during favorable conditions, the concept of a ceasefire wouldn’t even exist.
Wars would simply devolve into an endless series of mutually destructive battles until both nations collapsed.
But that’s not how war works.
Every war has its time and its limits.
To overreach beyond one’s capacity is to invite ruin, and right now, the Kingdom was at its limit.
“What we need now is not more troops or supplies but rest. If we continue fighting when the entire society is already worn down by war, the losses will outweigh any gains.”
With the two key fronts stabilized and the lost territories reclaimed, the Kingdom no longer had the capacity for additional operations.
After more than a decade of total war, there was no room for reprieve, either on the frontlines or in the rear.
To launch an offensive from this point would mean advancing into Imperial territory—a monumental challenge. Unfamiliar terrain, overextended supply lines—it wouldn’t be easy.
Sure, we might capture a fortress or two, maybe occupy a few estates. But that would be the extent of it.
Before we could push further, the Imperial forces would regroup and counterattack, driving us back to the Kingdom in disgrace.
Even if Napoleon himself came to take command in my stead, it wouldn’t change this reality.
The losses from such reckless operations would weaken our defensive lines across the board, and the ensuing consequences… well, there’s no need to spell it out. It’s all too obvious.
“As a Count holding a seat in the political arena, you must understand this simple logic. Why, then, do you persist in advocating for such reckless aggression? Or is there some other reason you believe the war must not end?”
“N-no! There’s no such reason! I was just speaking out of regret… We’ve lost so much to this war, after all. It’s hard not to feel bitter when I think of it.”
Though I had indirectly hinted at my suspicion of his motives, Count Eppenstein did not back down. If anything, he continued to stubbornly press his argument.
“I’ll admit that a ceasefire could help the Kingdom recover internally. However, wouldn’t it also give the Empire the opportunity to reorganize its forces? From that perspective, it’s hard to say it would be entirely to our benefit.”
“No, even considering that, the benefits are clear. We’ll have the chance to restore our ravaged lands and strengthen our defenses.”
Once again, I countered his argument succinctly. His logic was too weak to sway me.
So far, the war had primarily been fought on the Kingdom’s soil.
Every volley of gunfire, every clash of steel—all of it had taken place on our land.
While the barren northern snowfields were one thing, the western plains and rolling hills were fertile, productive lands.
Yet they, too, had been devastated by the war.
How many refugees do you think were displaced from their homes? How many ruined farmlands, abandoned mines, and facilities are there? Even just restoring those will be a massive boon to the Kingdom.
Once the western region’s productivity returns to normal, the dwindling tax revenues will also improve.
“So if you understand, stop with the sophistry. The negotiations have already been decided. Don’t try to overturn them at this point.”
“…Understood. My apologies.”
After that, I was spared any more needless prattle on the journey. Instead, I had to endure the sight of the noble faction gathering every day to whisper among themselves.
I couldn’t help but wonder if they were planning some trouble for later.
We traveled for many days, alternating between well-maintained roads and dirt paths, until we eventually crossed the border.
The flags and emblems symbolizing our nation faded from view, replaced by the Empire’s banners.
“Stop! State your identity and purpose!”
“We are a delegation dispatched by the Kingdom. Here is a document bearing the royal seal—verify it for yourself!”
After a brief inspection to confirm our purpose,
“…Verified. We will escort you. Please follow us.”
With the courteous guidance of the Empire’s border guards, we made our way toward the capital of the United Empire, Orléans.
It didn’t take long—about ten days from the border—and we arrived.
Thanks to the capital’s location in the southern region, the journey wasn’t as grueling despite the northern continent’s cold climate.
“This is it. The heart of our Empire.”
The capital wasn’t as artistic as our Kingdom, but its grandeur and majesty were undeniable.
Massive walls, chaotic yet imposing with countless batteries and watchtowers.
A colossal fortress and defensive city that exuded raw strength and intimidation.
And within, the largest city on the continent, built solely by human hands, boasting an unparalleled population.
A place I had only seen on military maps.
A land I had always thought of as a target to conquer.
We set foot there for the first time.
Then, during the private audience that followed, I was hit with a bombshell.
“…So, you’re telling me the Crown Prince of our Kingdom tried to assault Her Highness, the Princess of your Empire?”
“And before the engagement was even finalized, no less.”
What the hell.