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Chapter 8 - Chapter: 8

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Translator: Ryuma

Chapter: 8

Chapter Title: Feigned Loyalty

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Entering the main hall, the first thing I checked was the minimap.

It basically shows the positions of enemies and allies, but it's also useful for inferring how people feel about me.

Those who see me as an ally are marked green, those who want me dead are red, and everyone else is gray.

Even without speaking to them directly, the colors change on their own, so by comparing their actual positions to the dots on the map, I can roughly gauge their attitude toward me.

As always, I ignored the kingdom's nobles, who were predictably red. What mattered was the empire's negotiation team standing a short distance away from them.

The team consisted of just two people, a man and a woman, marked red and gray respectively.

The older man was wearing the formal uniform of an imperial general, so his red marker suggested he'd fought me directly in battle. The woman, dressed in the typical style of noble ladies, was likely the diplomat.

I wrote off the man entirely and planned to persuade the woman, who probably held no major grudges against me.

Since the gray category encompassed a huge range of attitudes, she might be easier to sway than I'd expect.

If she was truly sent by the emperor as I suspected, she wouldn't make waves as long as I didn't act too suspiciously, and she'd escort me straight to the emperor without issue.

Of course, I had no intention of coming across as just some nobody.

I'd give it my all.

I'd imagined this moment on the way here.

Suppose I really was a capable general who'd devoted everything to the king, winning the war through blood, sweat, and shit—only for it to be ruined by these noble scum who'd never seen a battlefield.

I'd obeyed the king's orders at first, but after days locked in solitary, I emerge to find they've sold me out for a shitty deal.

How would I feel right now?

I'd be furious at these incompetent, repulsive nobles.

I'd be frustrated with the king for being their puppet.

I'd lament that this kingdom wouldn't last.

I channeled those boiling emotions as much as possible, staring at the king like a man still brimming with passion and lingering attachment to his nation.

"...Speak."

"Your Majesty. Victory is within reach."

When I was dragged away, I'd put on a composed front for Anna and the soldiers, assuring them it would be fine.

Separate from my actual thoughts, a commander who valued peace highly would win over the conscript-heavy Ruth Kingdom troops.

But this wasn't the time for such passivity.

After being arrested on unilateral orders, confined in isolation, and handed over to the empire in a deal already sealed—being led away meekly in ropes?

That would make me look like a mere tool, not a worthwhile man.

Especially by imperial standards, where merit ruled supreme, a high commander's passivity was a massive strike against him.

To earn the emperor's trust, I needed to speak up when it mattered.

It was time to show the passion befitting my role, raising my voice.

"The invaders are starving and shivering in the cold. They haven't received a single successful supply shipment in the last two weeks, and without proper winter gear, they're wrapping themselves in the very tents they brought."

"Viktor, you are a tra—"

"Meanwhile, our kingdom forces are few in number but well-supplied, with morale through the roof. No reinforcements are coming for them, so all that's left is for them to run—and for us to chase them down and annihilate them.

The empire, bordering countless nations, has no spare troops, so they must retreat to the original border—or farther."

I fired off my words relentlessly, even as others tried to interrupt midway.

Right now, I needed to appear overcome with emotion from head to toe—no reacting to every disruption.

Of course, I could snap at the interrupting noble, but showing aggression toward allies would hurt my evaluation no matter the situation, so I ignored them utterly.

"Too many of the kingdom's young men have spilled their blood. To honor their sacrifices, this war must end in our victory."

I pointed at the imperial negotiators, who were watching me with evident interest.

At the very least, until this negotiation ended and I was dragged back to the empire, I had to appear as Ruth Kingdom's loyal servant, Viktor.

Being overly soft on the enemy negotiators to curry favor with the empire would look suspicious.

"They shouldn't be standing tall like that—they should be crawling on the floor, begging for our mercy."

"General..."

"The kingdom has no need to retreat, no reason to yield. The kingdom—!"

I clamped my mouth shut, as if choked by excess emotion.

I bowed my head like I might shed tears, wiping at my eyes with my hand.

"We can still fight...!"

I spread my arms in desperate appeal and dropped to my knees before the king once more.

Throughout all this, I'd kept my gaze fixed on the king.

I knew full well that the real power was his father-in-law, Count Vladimir Savinkov, and that noble consensus decided policy.

But I was emphasizing that my loyalty was ultimately directed at the king.

If the empire hired me, the patron would be the emperor.

"Just give me one week, Your Majesty. If our brave soldiers strike that flimsy encirclement—!"

"Enough. The negotiations are already concluded."

Graciously, Count Nikolai Similoff stepped forward from among the nobles at just the right moment.

"Count Similoff. I asked His Majesty's will."

"Hah."

The Nikolai who'd stepped up now was the epitome of a Ruth Kingdom noble.

Which meant,

"His Majesty has no need to say it himself. We chose negotiations because of your incompetence."

"...What?"

Unlike Vladimir, who knew everything but ousted me for some ulterior motive, this man genuinely believed the kingdom was in a dire spot.

He wouldn't mince words, nor did he have the brains for it.

Nikolai strode confidently right up to me and looked down.

"You commoners might not get it, but the imperial army numbers in the hundreds of thousands."

That lecturing tone, the habitual classism popping out.

He was perfect as a scapegoat for performative rage.

"And of that loose encirclement you mentioned, forty thousand took part—while we can barely scrape together thirty thousand even with our full strength."

I could feel his view of war as a mere numbers game in every word, but instead of refuting, I clenched my fists and trembled.

Like a man who could lash out at any moment but was somehow holding back.

"Besides, do you know how much war costs? Supplies and food draining away—you—"

As the finishing touch, Nikolai extended his right index finger to poke my forehead.

With perfect provocation handed to me, there was no reason not to act.

-Smack!

"Urk!"

"...I understand."

I rose, seizing his outstretched hand and twisting it.

"Arghhh!"

"You scum have been clouding His Majesty's vision. So that's how it was."

I twisted his wrist just short of breaking, spotting the gaudy rings jammed on his fingers—no empty spots.

Ruby, sapphire, emerald...

The glittering jewels sparked an idea, and I acted on it immediately.

"You make excuses about money and supplies..."

I yanked off a few rings and shoved him aside.

"But that hand reeks of greed. Surely you know one such gem could buy hundreds, thousands of arrows."

I held up the sparkling rings, catching the chandelier's light, and swept my gaze over the kingdom's nobles.

They all flinched, hiding their own jewelry on hands and necks—a sight to behold.

"In His Majesty's presence, I won't take your life... but."

"You dare—! Ack!"

Still with fight left, as Nikolai pointed at me accusingly, I hurled the rings at his face.

He scrambled to gather the fallen rings, then bolted upright and fled into the nobles' midst.

Judging the mood, that was enough to shift the weight—I knelt before the king again.

"Your Majesty!"

"Uh! Yes."

"The Guard Captain said... you ordered my arrest to send me as a prisoner to the empire. Is it true?"

I already knew, could predict the answer, but asked the king anyway.

I deliberately let my voice tremble slightly, glaring with reddened eyes.

"...Yes."

"The empire demanded we hold the occupied territories while granting them a year's truce. Is even that true?"

"Yes."

My voice rose gradually, as if emotion welled up uncontrollably.

These questions seemed prepared in advance; the king gripped his throne's armrests tightly but answered without hesitation.

"...Your Majesty."

Now for the finale.

Having shown unswerving loyalty so far, it was time to reveal an opening for the empire to exploit.

If they saw me as rigidly principled to the end, they might not even bother trying to recruit me.

"Was it truly your will, Your Majesty? Sending me to the empire for a mere year's truce?"

"..."

I posed the question that would decide everything.

To draw an answer that would shake even the most devoted retainer.

"Y-Yes, it was."

The king, blinking anxiously, gave the exact response I'd anticipated.

"...Ah."

I let out the prepared sigh.

Now there was no denying it.

The king had confirmed with his own mouth that he'd sold out his subordinate.

A lord betraying his vassal first was as grave then as now.

Once broken, trust was easy to shatter again, leaving the leader who discarded his men utterly forsaken.

And if that subordinate had done no wrong?

The leader's competence itself came under fire.

Conversely, the betrayed subordinate gained de facto absolution.

Even if he toppled his lord—or thrust a blade at his former master in revenge.

Some might call outright murder excessive, but the thirst for vengeance? Everyone understood.

It was precisely the situation I desired most.

I'd hammered home how advantageous our position was, and I'd committed no personal faults.

Simply forced into the empire's hands by the nobles—and the king they manipulated.

And not just shipped to some neutral neighbor, but to the very enemy we'd been trading blows with.

More blatant than the infamous "empty lunchbox"—a death wish, plain as day.

Good thing it was me; a truly loyal general would feel what?

Betrayal?

Despair?

Injustice?

"..."

Sometimes, silence speaks loudest.

I said nothing, merely letting my head droop.

A glance at the minimap showed the gray dot had turned green.

Slumping bonelessly like a man lost to despair, I waited as the wary guards approached and bound me.

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