Chapter 8
A heavy atmosphere hung over the room.
Zelando gulped involuntarily. It was the third night of discussions between his father, Zeuracia, and Roa-dono.
The talks were taking place in the king's private chambers. Only a select few people besides relatives were permitted to come and go here.
The four people seated were Father, myself—Zelando—, Roa-dono, and Nelfia. The expressions on Father's and Roa-dono's faces were stern.
Nelfia quietly watched the two of them converse. Nelfia was apparently here only as an observer and did not offer an opinion.
The reason things had come to this was the matter Roa-dono had brought before them: when to launch the campaign against Lifrea.
As Roa-dono had foreseen, this year had brought a poor harvest. Though Zelando had heard about it beforehand, it was still astonishing. How had Roa-dono managed to predict this?
Even more astonishing was that he had devised a plan to use the poor harvest to weaken Lifrea while keeping the other nations in check. How much had Roa-dono anticipated when he spoke?
To be honest, I sometimes found Roa-dono a little frightening.
If left alone, Lifrea would weaken on its own. Even Zelando could predict that. For the foreseeable future, the surrounding nations would be unable to defy Rudek and the Empire. No country would step forward to aid Lifrea. From Zelando's perspective, this plan seemed perfect.
Even so, Roa-dono had come to Father and urged him, "I want to invade as early in the winter as possible."
The matter was too serious to make public without first ensuring that the king and his strategist were of one mind. Father had invited Roa-dono to his private chambers for these talks. My being summoned meant that I was to learn what I would need to know for the future.
"Wouldn't it be better to leave things as they are? If we do, it seems to me that by the time winter is over, Lifrea will no longer be able to fight."
On the first night, at the beginning of the discussion, I straightforwardly voiced my doubts. Roa-dono smiled faintly, then shook his head.
"The prince's thinking is correct. If we want to ensure the outcome while minimizing Rudek's losses, that would indeed be the safest course."
"Then why now?"
"...Then allow me to ask you something, Prince."
Roa-dono turned to me and slowly began asking his questions.
"Suppose Lifrea had monopolized the food supply, while Rudek had none. What would happen?"
"The opposite of what we just discussed: Rudek would grow weaker?"
"And what, exactly, does 'grow weaker' mean?"
"...I think it means the nation loses strength, while its soldiers' morale and fighting ability decline."
"Then what does it mean for national strength to decline?"
Roa-dono continued pressing me with questions.
I thought for a moment. What did it mean for national strength to decline? It meant a decline in production capacity. I was about to answer that, but stopped myself. I had the feeling Roa-dono wanted an answer that went a little deeper.
"...The population... shrinks...?"
Roa-dono gave a deep nod. Apparently, that was the correct answer. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tightened his face as if in pain. It was as if he could clearly picture people starving to death.
"That's right. And when the food runs out, the weak will be the first to disappear. Not the nobles or the knights. Innocent children and the elderly will die first. Now, one more question. If Prince Ural were to die of starvation, how would you feel, Prince Zelando? Especially if it happened because Lifrea cut off the food supply."
...I could never forgive it."
That would be unforgivable. I would certainly take revenge on Lifrea. But then a new question arose.
"But Roa-dono, Lifrea's lack of food isn't Rudek's fault in this case, is it?"
The fact that Lifrea had no food was the fault of its leaders, not Rudek. Wouldn't it be completely misguided to blame Rudek?
"That is also a valid argument. At the same time, only a ruler with accurate information could say that. The people won't see it that way. The neighboring country, Rudek, extended aid to other countries, yet did nothing for Lifrea. Because of that, their loved ones will die. They will think, 'It's Rudek's fault.'"
"That's an outrageous argument!"
"No, it is outrageous, but Roa is right. The people of Lifrea will raise cries of resentment against Rudek, alongside their despair over Lifrea's leadership."
It was Father who answered my rebuttal.
"...Is that... so...?"
"It would be entirely different if Rudek had no food either, but under these conditions, that is undoubtedly what will happen."
"But that's only because Lifrea invaded Rudek! Isn't this simply the consequence of their own actions?"
"That is also true. But the people of Lifrea will say this: 'It was their leaders who invaded Rudek, not us.'"
"But..."
Even as I stood speechless, Roa-dono continued.
"This isn't limited to the people of Lifrea, you know. The same is true of Rudek. Even if the royal family were destroyed, not everyone would die alongside it. After all, it is not the people themselves who are fighting, but those responsible for running the country. This way of thinking is not particularly unusual among commoners. They do not feel the danger until it reaches them personally."
Roa-dono's words had a strange persuasive force, as if he had witnessed such scenes himself.
"Let's go back a little. Suppose a new ruler simply came to power after winning a war. Now imagine that country marching in as the victor among people who believed their loved ones had starved to death because of an enemy nation. If you were the prince, could you submit to either one?"
If Ural were to starve to death and an occupying force then arrived... I understood perfectly that coming to terms with that would be far harder than simply being occupied.
"...I don't think I could accept the latter, no matter what."
"That is why I came to recommend an early advance."
Roa-dono said this, and I felt utterly convinced, but Father cut in sternly.
"Roa, that is merely one aspect of the matter. You understand that, surely. What about the damage Rudek will suffer?"
"Of course."
With that, Father and Roa-dono nodded to each other, their expressions still stern.