Chapter 206: The Butterfly Effect 1

Loyalty could be considered another term for perseverance – unquestioningly adhering to one’s lord’s dictates while patiently enduring any contrary personal misgivings.

The greater one’s tolerance, the more readily they subordinate their own volition to their master’s governance – even under the most arduous circumstances.

And in that particular regard…

Wallenstein’s fealty now teetered precipitously upon its utmost limits.

A man who harbored his own principled convictions while pragmatically pursuing his self-interests, Wallenstein regarded the Emperor as a figure worthy of qualified allegiance – but not to the extent of utterly abnegating his own ambitions and prerogatives.

At this very juncture, that delicately poised loyalty wavered dangerously within Wallenstein’s psyche as his perseverance reached its nadir.

‘Were we facing the Kalmar King Gustavus alone, this conflict might remain tenable. But to wage war against the combined forces of Bohemia and the heretical league underwritten by the Dragonian Empire itself…that constitutes utter folly.’

His recent overwhelming victory against Mansfeld owed to Wallenstein’s intricate grasp of that adversary’s precise capabilities – enabling him to pinpoint exploitable vulnerabilities with surgical precision.

Yet their forthcoming opposition eclipsed such manageable threats by exponential magnitudes – beginning with that individual whose formidable prowess Wallenstein remained uncomfortably acquainted with:

‘The Kalmar monarch poses legitimate perils, undoubtedly. But the truly daunting adversary remains…Lord Santana Andreas himself.’

The paramount force elevating meager Bohemia into a veritable heretical vortex directly defying Imperial sovereignty.

Though their interactions remained scant, the mere specter of that once-obscure youth from Wallenstein’s sojourns still lingered disquietingly.

Of course, the current incarnation undoubtedly differed vastly from those hazy, ill-defined recollections of an unremarkable adolescent’s pale existence.

What mattered now centered upon that singular figure’s indisputably profound capabilities – enough to foster grave trepidations about confronting him under these present circumstances.

Perceiving Wallenstein’s pensive brooding, Hestia pressed her audacious proposal with renewed vigor:

“My Lord – victory prospects seem negligible at best. Moreover, even should we somehow prevail through sheer Providence, our prospects remain utterly devoid of any positive resolution. Under such dire straits, persisting under this delusional sovereign’s governance only courts our inevitable abandonment and purging. Considering those stakes…I humbly submit that now represents our sole juncture to seize the decisive initative.”

“Mmm…”

Her words resonated grimly – triumph or defeat, their future prospects appeared equally grim either trajectory.

Perhaps upending the chessboard entirely through her proposal represented the sole viable recourse.

Granted, such brinkmanship would almost certainly precipitate this tottering Empire’s terminal dissolution far sooner.

But it also ensured Wallenstein’s contingents survived that cataclysm rather than squandering their lives fruitlessly in furtherance of a futile agenda.

As these pragmatic calculations gradually outweighed his vacillating qualms, Wallenstein cautiously surveyed his other lieutenants – addressing the stalwart Otto directly:

“And what of your counsel under these straits, Otto? How ought we to proceed in your estimation?”

“…”

The knight’s brooding silence betrayed the profound gravity shadowing his liege’s inquiry.

In truth, Otto harbored scant personal interests in warfare or power politics – his steadfast service to Wallenstein derived from a singular conviction:

That this particular man represented their sole realistic hope of alleviating the immense suffering now engulfing the Empire’s citizenry amidst these interminable hostilities.

And to mitigate that endemic anguish now…

“…I concur with Lady Hestia’s counsel. Regardless of intent, persisting upon this reckless warpath only perpetuates further unspeakable sacrifices and torment inflicted upon our troops and civilian populaces alike. We cannot allow that under any circumstances.”

“…I see. If even your taciturn disposition counsels such severity…then perhaps the hour for audacious recourse has indeed arrived.”

With the ever-cautious Otto’s acquiescence, Wallenstein sensed the pivotal juncture heralding his long-harbored yet dormant ambitions’ reemergence.

That elusive dream smoldering since his penniless Bohemian aristocratic origins…the aspirations he dared not openly entertain until this very precipice.

The moment had finally arrived to overtly act upon those suppressed yearnings.

“Very well then – we shall proceed with this plan to depose the present sovereign and realign this great nation’s destiny upon a more prudent course.”

“As you command, my lord.”

“I shall commit every faculty towards ensuring your will manifests, milord.”

As a partial witness to the original narrative, I possessed a generalized prognostic outline regarding this reality’s turbulent trajectories:

Endless, perpetual warfare consuming countless more casualties in an unabating cycle of unremitting savagery and sorrow.

Though over a decade had elapsed since my isekai’ing, this interminable conflagration remained barely halfway through its harrowing duration.

If unaltered, this calamitous status quo would endure for over twenty more grueling years by most projections.

Granted, my own prolific interventions introduced enough upheaval to potentially truncate this apocalyptic ordeal through an imminent confrontation between the Imperial armies versus our heretical alliance reinforced by King Gustavus.

But even in that optimistic contingency, further bloodletting and widespread anguish appeared virtually inevitable as long as that fanatical tyrant persisted upon his self-ruinous crusade.

That unacceptable forecast, however, now distorted unprecedentedly following the missive clutched breathlessly before me:

“L…Lord Santana! You…you must behold the contents of this particular communique!”

“What seems to be the matter?”

In that electrifying moment, I bore firsthand witness to this reality’s narrative diverging onto an entirely unprecedented trajectory relative to my prior canonical awareness.

“Is…is this truly genuine? Could this dispatch have really originated from…”

“Yes, milord! I have verified its veracity repeatedly out of sheer incredulity!”

An inexplicable yet indisputable communique emanating from a wholly unexpected vector utterly absent from the established source material’s continuities:

Lord Wallenstein himself, offering overtures to negotiate a ceasefire in utmost secrecy.

Proposing his armies withdraw towards Vienna while imploring us to avoid pointless bloodshed in the interim.

In exchange, he offered comprehensive guarantees:

Upon this endeavor’s successful culmination, Bohemia and the heretical alliance’s independence alongside the Empire itself enshrining religious self-determination as sovereign edicts.

Though various supplementary conditions accompanied this proposal, those represented its core stipulations.

Yet as I reread those staggering terms compulsively in hopes of alleviating my profound disbelief:

‘Impossible…Could Wallenstein truly…? No, such upheavals never even remotely occurred in the established canon! Yet he canonically persisted in his stalwart Imperial fealty until his dying breath! So what conceivable factors precipitated this sudden about-face…?!’

That rhetorical query promptly conjured a pivotal variable I had unforgivably neglected amidst this world’s increasingly naturalized trajectories:

My own existence within this very realm – and the manifold disruptions engendered by my unbridled interventions since arriving to deliver Bohemia from its oppressive bondage.

‘Come to think of it…even the original narrative chronicled instances where Wallenstein teetered precariously close to forsaking his Imperial allegiance. Each time, his perseverance triumphed through sheer force of will. But…under conditions this dire, even I would contemplate drastic reappraisals…’

Canonically, Wallenstein faced only King Gustavus’s comparatively manageable might as his paramount adversary.

Now, however, the Kalmar monarch represented but one facet of the multipartite threats arrayed before him – alongside our heretical forces reinforced by the Dragonian Empire’s outright sponsorship in a role originally restricted to passive observer status.

What previously constituted ‘normal’ difficulty had escalated exponentially into borderline ‘hell’ degrees of opposition.

All while his nominal Imperial ‘ally’ actively exacerbated those astronomical odds through reckless obduracy instead of constructive recourse.

Under such unfathomable straits, Wallenstein’s exasperation proved not only understandable but arguably overdue.

And regarding his conciliatory overtures specifically, I harbored virtually zero reservations about accepting them.

The only potential downside risked depriving me of opportunities to consume melodramatic narrative developments vicariously through detached ambivalence.

‘So does this metamorphose me into…the popcorn-munching spectator this time around?’