At that time, in Arland
"Let me go! Let me gooo!"
A fully armed man was being restrained by several civil officials.
"Calm down! Get ahold of yourself!"
"Drop your weapon! Damn it, he won’t let go!"
The man being held down was himself a civil official of the Arland Kingdom. Just moments before, he had been doing his regular work inside the royal castle. But all of a sudden, he had slammed his desk and shouted, "I can’t take it anymore! I’m going to rescue the Princess!" Then he had donned full armor and tried to rush out of the castle to go join Alicetia.
Naturally, his colleagues restrained him.
"Please, let me go!"
"Of course not! Do you mean to defy the Princess’s will?"
"Gu… nghhh…"
The fully armed civil official burst into tears. And so, he was temporarily subdued.
"How many is this now?"
Gilbert let out a sigh as he read the report about another civil official going mad and trying to rush off to reinforce Alicetia. Exhaustion showed deep on his face.
Prime Minister Volken placed a stack of papers on his desk and answered.
"There have been 25 cases with civil officials, and 1,724 with military officers. As for commoners—it hasn’t stopped anywhere yet."
"I wish Alice would just come back already…"
The Granzur Empire’s invasion of Arland had been the largest military action since the founding of the kingdom. The Arland army that went out to intercept had been nearly annihilated, with both Commander Draconia and Gilbert himself nearly killed—a catastrophic disaster.
As a result, the kingdom’s army holed up in the decaying border fortress. Arland was a nation that prided itself on open-field battles, not sieges, and it had never invaded the Empire—so they were poor at siege warfare.
However, the fortress had been equipped experimentally with a magic furnace and prototype city defense barrier. Combined with the desperate efforts of the air force, which inflicted devastating damage on the Imperial air fleet, supplies could still come in by air even if the land route was completely sealed.
So far, everything was proceeding as planned: buy time, and let Alicetia’s technology drive the Empire out of Arland. This was the kingdom’s only option.
What hadn’t been planned was Draconia and Gilbert nearly dying. Fortunately, Alicetia had taken no chances and had prepared measures, so they survived… though not without actually dying once.
But the real problem was Alicetia’s rage in response.
Enraged at losing family and so many soldiers, she shifted her strategy from repelling the Imperial army to annihilating it. She deliberately overloaded the magic furnace, blowing the Imperial forces away in one massive detonation. That single act robbed the Empire of the strength to continue its invasion. (As for the “Regretful Demon Lord” who revived afterward but was beaten by a pudding and absorbed into Alicetia—we’ll skip that.)
However, Alicetia had burned herself out by overusing mana on the battlefield. And now, the remaining clones, cut off from the main body’s control, had begun their own independent counteroffensive to bring down the Empire—marching on with Alicetia’s half-dead body in tow.
When word of this reached the kingdom’s people, they made their decision: “That’s it—we’ll destroy the Empire.”
Until then, Arland’s people had hated the Empire, yes, but they hadn’t wished to wipe it out. If anything, their sentiment had been, “We don’t want anything to do with the central continent anymore.” But the Empire had dragged their beloved Alicetia onto the battlefield. That, they could never forgive.
The Granzur Empire had awakened Arland’s wrath for the first time in history. Across the kingdom, public opinion transformed into an extreme cry: “Death to the Empire! Even if Arland perishes, we must strike them down!” Alicetia’s existence was simply too much of a catalyst.
"What if… just me, alone, went to rescue Alice?"
Gilbert repeated, for the thousandth time, the same words to Prime Minister Volken. The Prime Minister shook his head.
"If Your Highness moves, then soldiers and civilians alike will say, ‘Then we will too,’ and flood into the Empire. Even His Majesty would join them!"
"Tch."
Gilbert still held onto his sanity. But Draconia sat in his chair with a demonic expression.
He simply couldn’t accept that Alicetia had thrown herself into the Empire. But in that situation, no protest would have stopped her. Even if he wanted to act by force, his body was still weak, the aftereffects of the resurrection potion severe. Being able to walk at all was considered fortunate—at least, according to the clone that had remained behind in the castle.
Gilbert let out yet another weary sigh. At that moment, someone banged violently on the office door.
"Enter."
"Emergency! The residents of District 7 are gathering weapons and supplies, saying they’ll go welcome the Princess home—and tear the Emperor to pieces while they’re at it!"
"Stop them immediately!!"
This sort of outbreak—citizens willingly trying to start a war—was happening all across the land. To suppress them, troops had to be split up and dispatched everywhere, just to hold back the mobs of commoners (and nobles mixed in) attempting to march on the Empire.
As a result, Arland had no spare capacity to send reinforcements to Alicetia.
"Any word from Alice?"
"Thanks to Your Highness making 240 calls a day, we only get one message per day now. The latest was: ‘I will not stop until the Empire surrenders unconditionally.’"
It seemed the clones were fighting with absolute resolve.
"We can’t even send aid… I hope Alice is safe. I just pray she hasn’t been buried under vengeance. Still, as long as Alicia is there, she’ll be fine. I’m counting on you, Alicia. Do away with her assassins before Alice returns to Arland."
Gilbert muttered something disturbing about wanting to heal Alicetia’s grief when she came home. Clearly, he was cracking mentally as well.
Sighing again, Gilbert quietly resumed his paperwork.
"Is the northern Stampede stable for now? Do they need reinforcements?"
"The commander reports no reinforcements are required. Thanks to the Princess, they now have ample healing magic tools. But they do request more food supplies—especially alcohol, the demands for which keep coming daily."
Volken replied.
"Well, when you’re fighting monsters and beasts day after day on the frontier, it makes sense. Send them more than they can drink—but warn them that if they get drunk and lose the fortress, I’ll have their heads."
That frontier fortress, called the Kingdom’s "Last Bastion," defended Arland from one of its two greatest threats: invasions of monsters. Without it, Arland would not be habitable. Day and night, soldiers fought to keep swarms of monsters and beasts from flooding into the realm.
Naturally, food, alcohol, and luxuries were sent to those living under such constant strain. But the Stampede had increased consumption.
Still, most of the monsters had already been slain, and in two weeks, a mop-up operation would begin around the fortress. As long as they stayed vigilant, the northern Stampede would soon be over.
"Next… the Angelic Church is building a cathedral?!"
"They finally couldn’t hold back anymore. The priests of the Orthodox Church are in tears."
"Those fanatics… Not only worshipping my Alice, now they mean to enshrine her? What if she becomes an angel? Well, she’s already cute enough to be one…"
"Your Highness, please calm yourself."
"Father, we should burn it down. Stage a fire and reduce it to ashes."
"Shall I move the shadows? A cathedral really is too much."
The “Angel Faction,” who worshipped his beloved sister, were becoming a serious problem. They wouldn’t act against Alicetia’s will, but they revered her like a god.
Normally, they were obedient to Gilbert, leaving no grounds for punishment—another problem.
The Angel Faction held that Alicetia did not want the throne, and that Gilbert should inherit it, aligning with Alicetia’s own wishes. In fact, they even suppressed groups pushing for Alicetia as monarch.
But they were zealots. Often, reason simply didn’t reach them.
"By the way, they’ve currently occupied the courtyard and are carving a stone statue of the Princess."
At Volken’s words, Gilbert and Draconia opened the office window and looked down.
"The eyebrows… we can’t get the eyebrows right."
"Fools! With our burning devotion, nothing is impossible. We shall carve the perfect likeness of the Princess!"
"What if we add wings?"
"Brilliant! An angel indeed!"
A noble, wearing the expression of a master craftsman, was chiseling away at a block of stone to make an Alicetia statue, while others seriously critiqued and praised the work.
"Father… those people are scaring me lately."
"Agreed. I can’t understand their thinking. No arson—we’re not burning a statue of my daughter, no matter what."
And so, a third religious faction was born in Arland. Naturally, Alicetia must never learn of it. If she did, the Angelic Cathedral would be reduced to ashes. Thus, alongside the Orthodox Church (worshipping the Goddess), and the Spirit Church (worshipping spirits and nature), the Angelic Church was officially presented as a mediator between the two rivals. With that arrangement, and since Alicetia had little interest in religion, she was unlikely to intervene. Truly, the kingdom had far too many idle hands.
"So… what do we do with them?"
Gilbert asked. Draconia thought for a moment before answering.
"Leave them be. As long as they’re busy like that, they won’t go wild. If we forbid them, they’ll just say, ‘Then we’ll go to Alicetia’s side instead.’"
It was a bitter choice.
"Your Highness, an envoy of peace from the Empire has arrived."
A civil official entered after knocking, veins bulging on his forehead. This was already the tenth such envoy.
"Oh? And did they say they would accept my sister’s demands?"
"No, they wish to negotiate."
The Granzur Empire kept sending envoys to “negotiate,” unwilling to accept unconditional terms. But negotiations were impossible. Alicetia’s (clone’s) demands were the minimum conditions. They were absolute, and not open to compromise.
"In that case, cut off his head. Send it back, and burn the body in the square. It should relieve some of the people’s anger."
"As you command!"
And so, another unfortunate envoy was beheaded by a diplomatic officer. Why a diplomat? Because, of course, the nobles handling foreign affairs were Angel Faction—and didn’t hesitate in the least.
In Arland, “civil officials” were weaker than military officers, yes, but still skilled enough at arms by continental standards. For them, lopping off a head was nothing. In truth, the Arland Kingdom was run by muscle-brained officials and muscle-brained citizens alike. That was how they had managed to build a nation in a land swarming with monsters, where normally no human could live.
And so, yet another envoy became a corpse.
What do you think about this chapter?
