“Then, we will now proceed with the signing of the peace treaty. Representatives of the Kingdom of Ulranor and the Holy Kingdom of Setnil, please step forward.”
The first major event upon my return home was concluding the war with the Holy Kingdom.
The battles had already ended, but we needed to make it official on paper.
So, we held a grand signing ceremony in the central plaza of the capital.
At the same time, this served as a demonstration to the city’s citizens—proof that we had utterly conquered our enemies.
Unlike the pathetic royal family, we had crushed the foreign invaders with ease and achieved an overwhelming victory.
As I’ve said before, our government was established through a coup.
That meant we needed constant public support, and large-scale events like this helped shape the narrative.
We had to keep justifying why we were the rightful rulers.
“I suppose we’ll have to keep this up until the system is fully reformed.”
Even though the parliament was handling state affairs, the real decision-making power still rested with the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction—an institution that had replaced the central government.
As long as this awkward dual-power structure remained, we had no choice.
The only solution was to overhaul the system by transitioning parliament from a class-based body to a proper elected institution.
Any potential opposition, both domestic and foreign, had already been crushed, so there wouldn’t be any major obstacles.
My plan was simple: gradually strip the Supreme Council of its authority and take over as Prime Minister.
While I was at it, I’d also strip the king of his decision-making powers.
Might as well take this opportunity to establish a proper parliamentary system.
Since the largest (and practically only) political faction in parliament was under my control, governance would be much more efficient that way.
“Here is the treaty. Please review it and sign at the bottom.”
But enough idle thoughts.
As Ulranor’s designated representative, I stepped onto the platform with unwavering confidence.
In stark contrast, the Holy Kingdom’s representative looked like a defeated stray dog.
It was none other than the cardinal of Amas Cathedral—the same old man whose arm I had shattered not too long ago.
Among the prisoners, he was the highest-ranking official left, which meant he had no choice but to take the place of the deceased Holy Pope.
His name was… what was it again? Alio Olio?
Not that it mattered.
“S-So… I just have to sign here?”
“Yes. Review the contents first, then sign your name.”
The cardinal skimmed through the document at a speed that made me doubt whether he was even reading it properly.
Then, without hesitation, he hastily scrawled his signature—clearly desperate to step off the stage as soon as possible.
Once the ceremony was over, he’d have to sit with me for the official portrait.
I wasn’t sure if the old man could endure it, but at least there wouldn’t be a crowd watching.
Maybe that would make it a little easier on him.
Then came my turn.
I had already reviewed the treaty several times before coming here, but I scanned it once more for good measure.
[Article 1] The representative of the Holy Kingdom of Setnil hereby cedes all governing authority over the entirety of the Holy Kingdom to His Majesty, the King of Ulranor, in full and in perpetuity.
[Article 2] His Majesty, the King of Ulranor, accepts the cession described in the previous article and consents to the complete annexation of the Holy Kingdom into the Kingdom of Ulranor.
[Article 3] The government of the Kingdom of Ulranor shall assume full administrative responsibility over the annexed territories and shall ensure the protection of the persons and properties of the citizens of the former Holy Kingdom, while also striving to improve their welfare.
[Article 4] The government of the Kingdom of Ulranor may, to the extent that circumstances permit, appoint qualified individuals from the former Holy Kingdom to administrative positions within the newly annexed territory, provided they demonstrate loyalty to the new system.
[Article 5] The government of the Kingdom of Ulranor reserves the right to partition or cede portions of the annexed territory for diplomatic purposes. In such cases, the governing authority and obligations over the transferred land shall be delegated to the respective recipient nation.
— (Omitted for brevity) —
[Article 10] This treaty has been duly ratified by His Majesty, the King of Ulranor, and the representatives of the Holy Kingdom. It shall take effect immediately upon its promulgation.
With this, both plenipotentiary representatives hereby affix their signatures in testimony thereof.
Whew.
It was long and complicated, but the summary was simple.
This was Ulranor’s version of the Japan-Korea Annexation Treaty.
Some of the clauses were so similar that I had practically copied them from memory.
With this, the Holy Kingdom was now entirely ours.
Taxes, governance, law enforcement, conscription, and administration—all of it would be under the Kingdom of Ulranor’s strict control.
In the long term, the Holy Kingdom’s population would be fully assimilated.
“Still… we’re better than those priests, aren’t we?”
It might sound like an excuse, but I truly believed that our rule would be better than that of the previous leadership.
Unlike them, we wouldn’t exploit the people through religious manipulation.
Before, the common folk paid not only regular taxes but also a tithe and various religious donations—amounting to nearly 19% of their earnings.
Honestly, it was a miracle they had survived this long.
Even corruption had its limits, but those bastards had none.
“Signing complete.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
With both representatives’ signatures in place, the officiator carefully picked up the document and addressed the crowd.
“Citizens! With this, the land of the Holy Kingdom is now ours! The glorious victory of the Kingdom of Ulranor is officially recorded in history!”
“Waaaaaah!!!”
“Victory to Ulranor! Glory to General Royten!!”
“The land of heretics has fallen! Justice has finally prevailed!!”
“Long live Ulranor! Glory to our great homeland!!”
The cheers were deafening, like the roar of flames.
Fireworks erupted in broad daylight, and celebratory music filled the air.
I could see several people playing trumpet-like instruments, joining in the celebration.
Even the soldiers on guard duty subtly slipped away from their posts, getting swept up in the festive atmosphere.
Everyone was overjoyed by the fact that we had defeated a powerful enemy in an all-out war.
“Well, not everyone…”
Unfortunately, there were those who couldn’t partake in the celebrations on such a joyous day.
Namely, within the royal palace.
In the capital city of Rahator, the royal palace had a separate, hidden chamber designed for the imprisonment of high-ranking criminals.
It was used for those who couldn’t be held in regular prisons, such as key political figures awaiting their punishment.
Normally, only one or two individuals would be confined there at a time, but recently, an entire family had been locked away.
The family of King Carl VII.
“Sigh…”
The king, gazing through the iron bars, watched the joyful citizens outside.
“Once, this fervor was for me.”
These same people, who would chant praises and beg for his blessings whenever he stepped into the streets.
Now, that fervor was directed at Carolus, the traitor who had imprisoned him and stolen his power.
He felt a deep sense of frustration and injustice, but he couldn’t voice it.
If the guards heard him, they’d undoubtedly shout at him to stop his nonsensical whining.
He had already experienced such reprimands multiple times, and he had no desire to repeat the experience.
“Where did it all go wrong?”
He whispered softly to himself.
Where had things taken a wrong turn, leading him to this miserable state?
What could he have done differently to avoid such a fate?
Should he not have attempted to flee the kingdom?
No.
That had been an unavoidable choice.
When faced with the immediate threat to his life, it was a gamble he had to take.
Looking back now, it was a wrong decision, but even if I could go back, I would have reached the same conclusion.
The fear that he and his family had felt was immense.
But more than that, he should have prevented the external factors from causing the downfall.
“Royten.”
Carolus von Royten.
From the moment that man began to make a name for himself, I should have been more cautious.
It was a mistake to leave him at the Northern Front just because he fought well.
For ten years, he had been stationed in the same unit, and that gave him the freedom to act on his own.
If only I had prevented a single general from gaining excessive fame and building up his own influence by controlling the battlefield, the rebellion wouldn’t have happened.
If I had reassigned him to another front or position, I could have neutralized his power, and the revolt would never have started.
‘I could have recruited him to our side.’
He was a soldier who had dedicated his life to the country, enduring harsh conditions and hardships.
If only I had given him a substantial reward earlier and made him one of my own, how much better would it have been?
With just a little thought, I could have found a way to either utilize him or neutralize him.
Why had I been so foolish, sitting idle and bringing about my own downfall?
‘No, at least if it weren’t for that damned tiara.’
Damn.
If only we hadn’t indulged in such luxuries.
When the queen insisted on flaunting her status in high society, I should have rejected it firmly, and we could have avoided the situation.
But instead, I gave in, and in the process, I cut the military budget to buy those damn jewels, and as a result, Carolus and the Northern Army revolted.
Their actions came from the anger of feeling betrayed by the loss of the frontlines they had fought so desperately to protect.
Had it not been for that, they would have continued serving as they always had.
Bang bang!
“Your Majesty, we are entering!”
Caught in the endless spiral of regret and lament, I was jolted back to reality by a loud knocking on the door.
The lock was roughly undone, and a group of grim-faced soldiers burst into the room.
“What’s going on?”
“It is Your Excellency’s command. The Crown Prince is to be escorted to the Empire. We have been ordered to bring him.”
The soldiers didn’t even use proper titles, speaking in a way that clearly showed they viewed the Crown Prince as nothing more than a nuisance.
The Queen, still in denial, could barely comprehend the situation.
“W-What do you mean by that?! No! How dare you take my son away?!”
“Step aside.”
Whether she screamed or clutched at their legs, the soldiers simply handcuffed the Crown Prince and dragged him away.
Watching the scene unfold, the king immediately sensed what was happening.
“This is the end.”
He realized that their time was running out.