Ch.260Empire (3)

“…what about the crowds?”

“Rather, as time passes, more people are joining in, emboldened by this momentum.”

What the… what on earth is this…

Despite using the imperial title to attract the people’s attention and fully deploying entertainment media like horse racing, the Rotarians still refused to turn their eyes away from war.

“What happened to the investigation into who might be behind this?”

“It’s too clean, Your Majesty. Judging from various circumstances, they are genuinely marching because they sincerely desire war.”

Rudolf, who had ordered everyone to keep quiet, hadn’t said anything since then, but since people still wanted war, he thought there must be someone pulling strings behind the scenes.

So he had ordered the Intelligence Bureau to investigate the mastermind, believing that once caught, the excited people would return to their former goodness and peacefulness.

But that order returned with futile results that fell far short of expectations.

“Is it truly clean? When investigating, was there not even once a case that aroused the slightest suspicion?”

“If you put it that way… Lady Jeanne has met with various clergy as part of her duties, and Her Majesty the Empress has also silenced officials and nobles to prevent leaks about the imperial title matter. Lady Ellen has also separately summoned students and fellow professors at the university to lecture them about clearing up misunderstandings about Your Majesty. However, these are…”

“—Those are merely things they should have done anyway. Besides those, what else is there?”

“Nothing, Your Majesty. Among the circumstances we’ve identified, apart from those three instances, we haven’t found a single case where the groups leading the current gatherings have communicated with anyone.”

“…”

Fearing the Intelligence Bureau might have been sloppy, I pressed them to thoroughly reveal everything they had investigated, but the answers that came back were so clean that they made my questioning seem pointless.

Then… did those people truly gather solely of their own will?

‘Why on earth?’

No matter how much I think about it, I simply cannot understand.

Why do people want war so badly?

I can fully understand why someone in a high position like me would cry for war.

Even if things go wrong, their lives would rarely be threatened, and above all, if the war ends in victory, the upper class stands to gain the most benefit.

That’s why, throughout history, with few exceptions, those who advocate for war are invariably from the upper classes. There are too many examples to count.

‘But ordinary people are completely different.’

If war breaks out, the lower classes will obviously suffer the greatest damage.

They lose property through additional taxes in the name of military expenses, gain little reward even if the war is won, and if forcibly conscripted to fill the ranks, they risk losing their lives.

People who should know this well want war this badly… why? What has made them so radical?

“Loyalty and honor, of course.”

“Ugh… Chloe?”

I was rubbing my face in despair, wondering how to resolve this situation, when suddenly Chloe appeared before me and made this strange statement.

“What do you mean?”

“The reason the crowds are in such an uproar is precisely because of their loyalty to Your Majesty and the honor they can gain by demonstrating that loyalty.”

“…”

With others around, Chloe addresses me formally as “Your Majesty” while simultaneously answering as if she had clearly read my mind, though I hadn’t said anything.

This has happened often enough before that I thought I’d grown quite accustomed to it, but today it feels particularly strange and eerie.

“Your Majesty knows the saying that a moderately stupid fool is easy to deal with because you can read what move they’ll make next, but a perfectly stupid fool is difficult to handle because they move like an unreadable genius?”

“Isn’t the saying that fools and geniuses are hard to distinguish from the outside?”

“Yes, that’s correct. However, another piece of information we can glean from this saying is that it’s meaningless to try to predict how a perfectly stupid fool will act. Being perfectly stupid, they place their moves in completely unpredictable places.”

“That’s… true.”

The exact meaning of this saying is that it’s difficult to distinguish between a perfectly stupid fool and a genius, but Chloe is interpreting it somewhat differently.

“What I’ve realized after serving by Your Majesty’s side for decades is that you always anticipate how others will act next. You tend to think—no, believe—that others will act rationally.”

“…Act rationally, you say.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. While individuals can be quite wise, when people gather as a group, wisdom is nowhere to be found in that collective. They truly become perfectly stupid fools.”

Chloe’s statement was extremely scathing. She was essentially dismissing the public as ignorant fools who know nothing.

“You should just think of it simply and intuitively. They have truly gathered like that solely to show loyalty to Your Majesty.”

“…I don’t want such loyalty. Especially not if the means of that loyalty involves bloodshed.”

“That’s precisely why I love you, Your Majesty.”

Having said that, Chloe forgets formality and smiles sweetly. Though I’ve seen Chloe’s smile thousands of times throughout my life, today it seems particularly special.

“…Chloe, do you have any ideas on how to stop them? If we declare war on our neighbors as the crowds demand, the Holy Empire’s throne that I’m supposed to give to Jean-Claude will disappear.”

“Hmm… I do have one idea, but no matter what method we use, we can’t make this situation disappear completely.”

“That’s fine, tell me.”

“Well, you could simply suppress them with military force. You are the ruler of this empire—how dare they interfere in state affairs? As I said earlier, a gathered crowd cannot be dealt with rationally, so this method would be the quickest and most powerful.”

When Chloe finished her answer, the atmosphere among the officials and attendants around us shifted slightly. Everyone nodded their heads a little and straightened their posture, suggesting they all agreed with Chloe’s statement.

…Well, according to their common sense, my extremely conciliatory policies must have been quite difficult to understand.

In an era where it’s considered normal to initially use appeasement when citizens suddenly cause trouble, then suppress them with military force after some time passes, my policy of using only conciliation and indirect methods to manage the people is an irregular approach that doesn’t match the common sense of the current age. Chloe’s method aligns best with the sentiments of this era.

“You’re confident I won’t choose that method, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

But I cannot choose that method. Even if I wanted to suppress them, how could I crush almost all Rotarians who have risen up?

Moreover, these people haven’t gathered for some antisocial purpose. They’re simply too loyal to me, and suppressing such loyal subjects with guns and swords is simply unthinkable.

“The public is not rational, so we must use irrational methods…”

I must stop this. The administration has finally stabilized to a point where even I, with memories from the modern era, find it acceptable. If we’re forced into a war of conquest and gain numerous territories, all the administrative reforms we’ve implemented will instantly evaporate.

Above all… if I don’t stop this, a terrifying number of issues await me.

‘…I’ve grown old.’

As I pondered, looking at the back of my hand resting on the desk, I noticed it had some wrinkles and had lost some of its luster. Compared to my hands in my youth, the passage of time is truly evident.

It’s not just my appearance like hands and face that has aged, but my brain as well. My decision-making speed has become somewhat sluggish compared to when I was young.

Working through the night is another issue. In the past, even if I stayed up all night designing handicraft factories one by one, I could just take a nap the next day. I might have felt tired, but never like I was going to die. Now it’s completely different.

Literally, if I don’t sleep until late at night, I feel an enormous burden and my mind becomes dizzy. Even if I sleep then, the next day my condition is completely ruined. My mind doesn’t clear up.

Anyway, now I only direct the general course of affairs, leaving the details to officials, so it doesn’t matter if my efficiency decreases with age, but the important thing is that I’ve grown old.

Abdication… no, that won’t work. Lothar is only 15, too young to entrust with the throne. He should be at least twenty.

Then there’s only one option left.

“Chloe. What about feigning illness? At my age, a serious illness would be quite believable.”

“That is… yes, Your Majesty. It seems possible.”

Since persuading the public is already a lost cause, I must use deception to stop this madness.

Surely no one would be crazy enough to call for war when their monarch is ill, so feigning illness could certainly help calm this frenzy.

If even this doesn’t work… well, such a future is difficult to imagine, but if it comes to that, would war truly be my only remaining option?

“His Majesty has fallen gravely ill from a vicious curse!”

“This curse must have originated from the monarchs of neighboring countries who envy and are jealous of His Majesty!”

“They say the Holy Empire’s Emperor poisoned His Majesty’s food!”

“God, protect our Holy Emperor!”

“War, war!”

Of course, such optimistic speculation was shattered in less than three days. They were all madmen, it seems.

The already excited crowds interpreted my serious illness from a completely different perspective, which resulted in the release of the people’s pent-up violence that had been barely suppressed until now.

As the first incident, a spontaneously formed militia attacked and occupied the territory of the adjacent empire. In the process, the feudal nobles who owned that territory all had their heads cut off on hastily constructed scaffolds.

War is unavoidable.

No, wait—with the ban on private armies, they shouldn’t have weapons, so where did they get their arms from?

And how weak must the Empire be if mere militia could—ugh, never mind.

“…March forth.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I don’t even know anymore. Let whatever happens happen.