Chapter 18
The Kyle Leopold in the original work was absolutely not a likable character.
The fat, sluggish image we usually associate with a corrupt noble. In the original work 'Monajoh', Kyle Leopold was the embodiment of the word incompetence.
But I was different now, having maintained my self-care all this time.
"Lucilla, could you bring me a mirror?"
"Yes, sir."
As I adjusted my collar and looked in the mirror, a tall young man with blond hair and blue eyes stood there. With sharp features and a sleek build, he looked exactly like a regional leader should.
The uniform I was wearing also played a part.
A black uniform ordered from the finest tailors in the South exuded restrained splendor and just the right amount of intimidation.
"Hm, this seems about right."
"You really do look handsome when you dress up. Why don't you go around looking like this more often?"
"Why be uncomfortable when this isn't even an official occasion? More importantly, I think this is the first time I've heard that from you."
"...Whether I like it or not, facts are facts, aren't they?"
Perhaps embarrassed after admitting it herself, Lucilla stumbled over her words for a moment, and I snorted at how amusing that was.
Before I knew it, only 30 minutes remained until the speech began.
It was time to prepare my mind.
"Phew..."
After I let out a sigh filled with all kinds of complicated emotions, all that remained in my heart was cold calculation.
I had delivered speeches like this dozens of times while driving out the southern capitalists.
The composure I had cultivated all this time to break the "naive little brat" image definitely helped at times like this.
I reminded myself of the purpose of this speech once again.
"Appeal for the legitimacy of the war. Eradicate antiwar sentiment. Build the image of a leader who stands before the people directly. Put the South on a wartime footing, and eliminate hostility toward Westerners."
The most important part was the last one.
Wartime footing. Hostility toward Westerners.
To deal with the Empire and the enemies beyond it, we had to bring even the Arbel Mountains within our territory. We had to embrace the Westerners as well.
To do that, we needed strong power.
If I wanted to change the world while holding only the South as my base, I had to draw out every last bit of the South's strength.
There were two ways to do that.
Strip occupied territories bare, or mobilize a wartime system.
Nazi Germany financed its war by plundering occupied territories.
But we couldn't use that method.
If we ruled the West that way, the West would become an enemy we could never trust.
We would waste strength fighting external powers, and then waste more keeping an internal colony under control.
Worse, if harsh colonial rule made them resentful, we wouldn't even be able to use Westerners as soldiers anymore.
In other words, we'd have gone to the trouble of swallowing the West, only to lose the ability to make proper use of its benefits.
"So instead of plundering the West, we'll run a wartime system to cover military expenses."
We needed to run a wartime system anyway.
Reform had only begun from scratch a few years ago.
To occupy the West and use its manpower as soldiers, we'd need enormous amounts of weapons.
The West and the South had almost no racial differences and few cultural differences either. A thousand years of coexistence had fostered a sense of common identity in the people of both regions.
My purpose in this speech was also to properly shape that sense of common identity.
"We're bound to clash with the imperial center sooner or later anyway."
The vested interests hate innovation.
That wasn't prejudice or anything of the sort, but an inevitable phenomenon in a world on the verge of industrialization.
Because in order to start an industrial revolution, the landowning class that held most of the land and laborers had to be crushed.
And in this romance fantasy world, the landowning class meant the nobles.
How many people would be happy if an industrial revolution that destroyed their own class spread out from the South?
On top of that, this world had another vested class besides the landowners.
Mages and knights.
When innovation began and their power went flying away, they were forcibly suppressing the tide of the age known as the industrial revolution.
Thus, the imperial center's current state was similar to the late Qing Dynasty in the latter half of the 19th century.
No, it was even worse than the late Qing.
The Qing Dynasty at least made some effort, building factories and turning out ironclads.
But in the Empire's current state, with the two vested classes of nobles and mages clutching power tightly, they couldn't even make that much effort.
"So that's why the mediation proposal the crown prince sent was such garbage."
There was no way something this pathetic could force the side that had been struck first to back down.
The fact that they still sent a proposal like that was clear proof that central nobles and mages were pressuring them not to yield any more to the South.
If I had been in that position, I probably wouldn't have offered a much different proposal.
Well, that still wouldn't change the fact that the crown prince had flowers in his head.
The country's in that state, and the crown prince is swooning over a woman like some lovestruck fool.
A man who should be purging corrupt nobles and dancing with his blade is sitting in a woman's arms—if that isn't a brain full of flowers, what is?
Once again, I felt that the South could never go along with the Empire.
"Ten minutes left. You should start getting ready."
"Ah, thanks."
I stood up after hearing Lucilla's words.
As I left the waiting room with the speech in hand, the gazes of the many people filling the city hall hall turned toward me.
Before starting the speech, I closed my eyes and steeled my resolve.
Imperialism is madness.
This was nothing more than a drastic remedy for a world that was even more insane than imperialism itself.
So I vowed that, at the very least, I myself would never be swayed by this devil's speech.
***
The city hall hall, packed with five thousand people, was quieter than ever.
A supernova who had swept away the South's corrupt vested interests and seized power. A pioneer who took policies one step ahead of everyone else.
A brilliant innovator who had made the South grow even as the Empire crumbled.
And the true war hero who had led the South to victory in three battles: the Siege of Sarsen Fortress, the Defense of Sarsen Harbor, and the Albion Air Raid.
Never before in the South's history had the title "superhuman" fit anyone so perfectly.
That was why everyone awaiting the appearance of this superhuman was staring at the podium with tense expressions.
And at last, a man stepped up onto the podium.
Kyle Leopold.
At the sight of him, everyone fell silent at once, holding their breath before his leaderly dignity.
Kyle Leopold opened his mouth.
"Today, all the citizens of the South have been invited here."
The speech began in a calm, solemn voice.
"Right in front of me are the war veterans wounded in the last battle. Young men who suffered irreparable injuries from the West's cowardly night raid have come here to represent the military's will."
Kyle's gaze shifted slightly to the side.
"Beside them are the bereaved families who lost loved ones in the last battle."
"The West's cowardly attack took fathers, brothers, husbands, and friends from our citizens. The South owes a great debt to the sacrifice of these brave young men who fought to protect everyone to the very end."
It was nothing more than a flat recitation of facts, but that alone was enough to make the citizens in the hall angry.
The nobles who had ignored Southern capitalists while invoking honor. And the young men who had suffered from that absurd night raid.
That made it all the more effective, because they were the perfect victims—there was no need for propaganda at all.
Kyle Leopold thus united the surging emotions of the crowd.
"Behind them are the munitions workers who toil day and night for the South, making weapons."
"And behind them sit representatives from various companies. Engineers from the Design Bureau. Scientists, doctors, civil servants, teachers, architects... every class that works for the South's development is seated here."
"Here in Albion City Hall, hundreds of women have also gathered. Young people and the elderly are gathered as well. Everyone has been invited, regardless of wealth, occupation, or age."
"Therefore, those facing me can be said to be a miniature of all Southern citizens from every corner of society. Am I right?"
Human beings are creatures capable of empathy.
The citizens' feelings for the wounded soldiers and bereaved families, and their anger toward the Western nobles who had launched the cowardly ambush, were already united.
Before that feeling, barriers such as gender, age, and status meant nothing.
Even financiers who always dressed neatly and businessmen who valued propriety were swept up in the atmosphere and shouted.
"""That's right!"""
The cries of countless people filled the hall.
Amid the booming voices, Kyle raised his own voice even higher.
"Then, my audience! You are now representing the will of our South."
"I would also like to ask you a few questions. Answer them for our Southern citizens listening beyond the radio, and for the enemies who are surely trembling in fear by now!"
The atmosphere grew hotter, and the voices rumbled.
The excited citizens were ready to answer any question.
Kyle's voice rose even higher.
"The nobles of the West think Southern citizens are afraid of war!"
"By breaking the Sarsen-Lutetia Treaty! By invading a harbor we obtained through a legitimate treaty! By launching a night raid in the middle of the night without any cause! They are testing how much we can endure!"
Bang—!
Kyle shouted, slamming the podium.
"I ask you, are you and the citizens of the South prepared to punish their crimes, no matter what the cost!"
The citizens' answer had already been decided.
Following the cue, five thousand voices shook the hall.
"""Yes!"""
Before the fervent answer had even finished, he continued the speech with a voice-amplifying spell on his throat.
"Second, the center demands that we withdraw from the Sarsen territory we obtained through a legitimate treaty!"
"I ask you, Southern citizens: do you fear armed conflict? Do you want to return to the days when we paid unfair passage tolls to Sarsen Fortress every year and couldn't even protest!"
The second question concerned the center's mediation proposal.
No citizen would accept the absurd proposal that the side that had been struck should simply endure it.
"""No!"""
Kyle smiled in satisfaction and asked a third question.
"Third, the nobles of the center and the West belittle the brilliant achievements our Southern workers have built, calling them vulgar!"
The noble ideology that despised industry and commerce.
He pointed out the Empire's deeply rooted way of thinking.
The contempt and ridicule Southern people endured every day were a trauma shared by everyone gathered here.
There was no better way to stir up hostility toward the noble class than by tapping into that trauma.
"I ask you, citizens: are you ready to refute their claims? Are you ready to show those corrupt, arrogant nobles the power of the great civilization our ancestors built over the past hundred years!"
"""Yes!"""
At words that scratched exactly where the Southern people's deepest trauma itched, everyone in the hall responded with fervor.
Swept up in the collective frenzy, the people were in no state to even think of contradicting Kyle's words.
Around then, Kyle got to the main point.
"Fourth, the Empire's nobles claim that our Southern citizens lack courage! They say we want surrender, not war!"
"""Never! Never! Never!"""
"Then I ask you! Do you want total war? If necessary, do you want a war even more total and radical than anything you can imagine right now!"
For a moment, silence seized the hall.
And—
""""Yes!!!!""""
A roar erupted that could not be compared with any of the answers so far.
Kyle kept the momentum going and pressed on with more questions.
"I ask you! Do you swear to liberate our Western compatriots who suffer under the corrupt Western nobles! Do you swear to spread the free spirit of the South to the families and friends in the western lands!"
"""We swear!"""
"Do you agree that in wartime, the same rights and duties apply to everyone; that the heavy burden of war must be shared by everyone in the nation; and that this burden should be borne equally regardless of status!"
"""We agree!"""
Taking a deep breath, Kyle recited the final paragraph of the speech.
"Our army will annihilate the enemy in the sky, at sea, and on land! Do you believe that the technology and wisdom we have built will bring us unwavering victory!"
"""We believe!"""
***
The Albion City Hall speech ended successfully.
From the next day on, the South began to transform into a massive war machine.
Automobile factories began producing field guns, and pipe factories were converted into rifle factories. Engineers from the Design Bureau began teaching the factory workers how to read blueprints.
To match the navy's pace in a war of speed, the army detached its elite forces: a total of 10,000 troops from the 1st and 2nd Divisions, plus a 5,000-strong support unit.
The dreadnoughts that had completed blue-water training alongside the destroyer fleet returned to port. After repairs and replenishment, the fleet was ready to sail.