Semi-Coercive Imperialist - Chapter 147: A Visit to Prozen
The parliament of the western Republic of Prozen「Le Palais Lermont」.
In that chamber packed tight with hundreds of lawmakers, Minister of Defense Louis Marceau had taken the podium and was delivering an impassioned speech.
“Dear members of Parliament. The Empire, under the pretense of supporting the royal family, is effectively annexing Zerpha, and is carrying out a military buildup more brazen and aggressive than ever before!”
His resolute voice echoed heavily against the ceiling of the parliament.
“The Gigantes catastrophe, far from diminishing the Empire’s military power, gave birth to a new military-industrial complex called Aternum. Even as we speak, lethal weapons are pouring out of that place.”
Louis Marceau. Prozen’s Minister of Defense pleaded as though pouring out his very soul.
“The imperialists are watching and waiting for a chance to plunge the continent into total war and upend its order. To safeguard the Republic, we too desperately need an immediate military buildup and a massive expansion of the defense budget!”
“Now hold on, Minister. Please pause your remarks.”
Just then, from the opposing bench, senior parliamentarian Clemand interjected in a slouching, contrary posture.
“I’ve heard your concerns well enough. But where exactly do you propose to find the funds for such an enormous defense budget?”
Louis Marceau glared at him with a furrowed brow.
“…There is no value that takes precedence over the survival of the nation and the lives of its people. The shortfall must be covered even if it means establishing and levying a special defense tax.”
“Good grief, I knew it would come to this.”
Clemand scoffed and sprang to his feet. He spread his arms wide toward his fellow lawmakers.
“So now you’re going to use the threat of an Empire that’s all the way over there as an excuse to levy more taxes?!”
“Then would you rather hand the country over to the Empire because you’re afraid of taxes?”
“That’s nothing but your personal delusions of grandeur and speculation, Minister!”
“Can you truly not see the horrors unfolding in Zerpha right now?!”
Bang! Louis Marceau slammed the podium. He pulled a thick bundle of documents from his breast pocket and brandished them.
“Look at this! These are papers analyzed and published by multiple professors at Prozen National University. Every single one of these world-class scholars is warning in unison about the Empire’s endless appetite for expansion and the coming threat of war!”
Louis Marceau argued the necessity of constructing what was called the Grand Imperial Encirclement, citing papers by distinguished professors including Jean Pierre as evidence…
* * *
─…That is what is currently taking place in the Prozen Parliament, I’m told.
I received the report from Schatz.
Indeed, the Genen Branch Office’s intelligence operatives had spread into Prozen as well.
“Yeah. I know. As a matter of fact.”
Prozen’s Minister of Defense, Louis Marceau.
Before my Regression, he had been an extremely troublesome figure for the Empire. It was no exaggeration to say that over half the credit for the western defensive front belonged to him.
“I’m getting ready for a trip.”
Right now, I was at the airport. A historical event involving Louis Marceau was about to occur.
This time, the disguise was black hair and blue-green eyes. On top of that, a beauty mark near the eye and dentures to completely alter the contour of my face.
I had chosen the identity carefully, too.
─Yes. Shall I depart as well?
“No.”
I boarded the plane bound for Prozen.
“Stand by for now. I’ll call you if something comes up.”
─Yes.
…
[Hamuse Hugo Airport]
After arriving at the airport, I hailed a taxi.
I headed straight for the city center.
The impression of Prozen’s capital through the car window was… prosperous. Its cultural texture was entirely different from the Empire’s capital. How should I put it? It felt as though art and culture had seeped into the entire city. As though art and freedom had seeped into its every corner.
Emerald-green river water glittered under the sunlight, gently cutting through the city, and the elegant stone buildings lining the banks stood dignified as sculptures bearing centuries of history.
Vivid flowers blooming luxuriantly on every terrace, open-air cafes mingling the scent of freshly baked bread and rich coffee, and people strolling the streets at a leisurely pace.
A dazzling color of freedom that could never be found in the Empire seemed to fill the city to the brim.
So there really is a reason the vain nobles lose their minds over this place.
“Concorde Plaza.”
The taxi arrived at the destination. Concorde Plaza, the very center of Prozen’s capital.
“Over there. See. Symbol of Prozen. Prozen Tower.”
I gave a small laugh at the taxi driver’s clumsy Imperial language.
“I’m Prozenese myself, actually.”
“Oh, is that so? You were coming out of the airport, so I assumed you were a tourist.”
“Ha ha. Here’s a tip.”
I added 100 Livre on top of the 70 Livre fare.
“…Thank you!”
I stepped out of the taxi and stood in the middle of the plaza.
A painter sketching a landscape beneath a bridge, a musician playing the accordion on the street, lovers dancing lightly to the melody.
Without realizing it, I slowed my steps and found myself taking in this peace.
For a world on the brink of ruin, it was far too tranquil.
In truth, I had been to Prozen before. As a child, with my mother.
I could recall those old memories vividly through the Virus. But they were as much pain as they were nostalgia, so I had no desire to dredge them up.
To me, my mother was my weakness, a past I had left behind, and perhaps the true form of my soul that would never be permitted to me.
Thump—
Lost in thought for an instant, my heart reacted to a group passing by.
Two men. One woman.
Thump—
An old woman sitting on a nearby bench, feeding pigeons.
Thump—
A man in a suit, hurrying along with a briefcase.
Vermin not even worth dignifying with the word “people”.
Thump—
Prozen was a land of freedom. With its loose control over thought and ideology and its low barriers at the border, there could be no more perfect breeding ground for otherworldly parasites like Ezenheim to infiltrate and operate in the shadows.
“This country has far too many cockroaches.”
Counting their numbers in my head as I walked, I arrived at my destination before I knew it.
[Prozen National University]
On par with the Empire’s Central University… no, if measured by honest academic achievement and depth of free discourse, a university in the west that had already far surpassed the Empire.
I passed through its arched main gate and entered.
The campus was like a vast arboretum. Along promenades shaded by towering trees, buildings as striking as painted canvases stood tall.
Students lying freely on patches of lawn, engaged in debate; young intellectuals clutching thick textbooks to their chests and walking briskly, their faces brimming with vitality and passion.
Before long, I reached the main building at the center of campus.
[Festie Hall]
Named after a national hero of Prozen, the entrance was under fairly tight security.
“Please present your student ID.”
A guard asked me for identification.
I pulled out the student ID I had prepared in advance from my bag.
[Prozen National University, Department of Military Studies, 3rd Year]
[Felix Renoir]
The cover story was that I had taken a three-year leave of absence due to family circumstances.
“Felix Renoir. The re-enrollment period ended a while ago, didn’t it?”
The guard examined the ID and my face in turn.
For my part, there was no risk of being caught.
“I’m planning to take some lectures before I officially re-enroll. I’ve been doing nothing but working to pay tuition, so I figured I’d warm up and get my head back in the game.”
My Prozenese accent was flawless. The Prozenese language imprinted on my mind with the help of the Virus was perhaps even more native and fluent than an actual native speaker.
“Alright. Sounds rough. Go on in.”
The guard returned my student ID with a wry smile.
I entered the building. I was scanning the internal directory posted in the hallway to map out the layout when…
Clatter, clatter, clatter!
Students suddenly rushed off somewhere in a hurry. I blended into the crowd naturally and followed them.
The place we arrived at was a grand auditorium, far too large to be called a mere lecture hall.
The front rows were already packed without a gap by hundreds of students, and only a few seats remained tucked away in the very back corners.
I chose the least conspicuous seat among them and sat down.
──Tick, tick, tick.
“…Ah, fuck.”
A curse slipped out before I could stop it.
The stillness of hundreds gathered together. The ticking of wristwatch second hands from their wrists seemed to scrape against the inside of my ears all at once.
As I endured it, a professor appeared on the podium at the front of the auditorium.
“Hm?”
I propped my chin on one hand and let a faint smile cross my face.
It was a familiar face.
“Jean Pierre.”
But since he too had seen my face before, I pulled my beret down low.
* * *
“Zerpha. Oh, my dear Zerpha.”
Jean Pierre let out a deep sigh before beginning his lecture.
“A beautiful country whose language flows with the melody of song lyrics, whose land produces ingredients of such depth that countless bards and chefs across the continent have lavished praise upon it since time immemorial.”
He paced the lectern slowly as he continued.
“But that fertile land is now engulfed in the specter of war and the stench of blood.”
He raised a hand and pointed to the screen in the auditorium.
“The Zerpha Royal Family.”
A map of Zerpha’s territory appeared, the Royalist Faction’s sphere of influence colored red around the capital.
“The current king has long been bedridden with a chronic illness, hovering between life and death. But throughout his protracted reign, the accumulated corruption, graft, and the extravagant excesses of the nobility had left the people of Zerpha drowning in rage and despair.”
A monarchy established by force two hundred years ago. But Zerpha had originally been a republic that cherished freedom.
“In the end, the Republican Faction rose under the banner of revolution. The military split, and civil war broke out.”
The map on the screen shifted rapidly, and the Republican Faction’s forces, marked in blue, spread like wildfire, pressing against the red of the Royalist Faction.
“Immediately after the civil war began, the Republicans drove the Royalists back with unstoppable momentum. Even the regular army, already harboring deep doubt and suspicion toward the rotting monarchy, crumbled or surrendered without putting up a real fight.”
The blue of the Republican Faction completely encircled the capital in a ring.
“They besieged the capital, and the monarchy was on its last breath. But.”
Then.
At a single point on the map.
Through a gap in the Alberon Mountain Range along the western border, black arrows plunged down like a bolt of lightning.
“The Empire’s support arrived.”
Jean Pierre’s voice sank heavily.
“The Berton Guard Unit’s crossing of Alberon Gorge, followed by the Durkon Legion’s single-point breakthrough.”
The blue encirclement on the map was torn apart savagely by the black arrows.
“The Republican siege was broken in an instant.”
The students listened to his lecture with bated breath.
It was, without question, gripping.
“The Royalist Faction, revived by the Empire’s transfusion, was snatched from the jaws of death.”
Most of the Prozenese students’ expressions were grim. A naked loathing and hostility toward the Empire’s intervention filled their faces.
It was unavoidable. They didn’t know the future.
“On the very day the Durkon Legion began its advance against the Republicans, a coup d’état by regular army forces loyal to the monarchy erupted inside the Zerpha capital. The ostensible cause was the military’s fury and backlash over Crown Prince Alonso inviting a foreign power in, but…”
Jean Pierre pushed his glasses up and added with a sardonic edge.
“The Zerpha Royal Family announced that the coup was an attempt by military leaders to cover up the corruption and embezzlement of supply funds they had accumulated over the years. Of course, neither account is easy to believe. History is written by the victors.”
After that, he explained the progression of the coup.
The regular army’s charge on the capital, the Imperial forces’ ambush, the counterattack by factions loyal to the Crown Prince.
I was slightly surprised. He was so accurate that I wondered if he had been there in person.
“…And so the coup was easily suppressed, and the Durkon Legion seized Jeronika Mine.”
Jean Pierre pointed to the heart of the map, to Jeronika, which had been the Republicans’ stronghold.
“They practically reduced it to ashes. So then, why would the Empire go out of its way to destroy such a valuable mine?”
His question suddenly turned to the students.
In the silence, someone cautiously raised a hand.
“To shift the reconstruction costs and debt onto the monarchy.”
Prozen’s academic culture was one of freedom. Anyone could voice and present their opinion.
“Correct. Exactly right.”
Jean Pierre nodded.
“That is the Empire’s way.”
Blue letters appeared on the screen. It was Jean Pierre’s Mana. Even his Mana was devoted entirely to academics.
“Destroying a foreign nation’s critical infrastructure and then imposing massive loans under the pretext of reconstruction, inflating the costs to reduce them to servitude…”
Snap! Jean Pierre clicked his fingers.
“But in this course, we will look at the ‘individual’ hidden behind this grand movement.”
His gaze flashed like a bird of prey’s.
“The Berton Guard Unit. The Durkon Legion. Who was the person who controlled and moved them like chess pieces with such perfection? Let’s hear your guesses.”
My brow furrowed.
“The Durkon Legion was infamous for being an extremely violent corps. Their commander, Schweitzer, known as the ‘speed specialist’, was no different. Everywhere they went, they killed civilians. They executed prisoners. They requisitioned villages and left them in ruins. But the number of civilian killings by the Durkon Legion in Zerpha this time?”
Zero.
Civilian killings? No, any act harmful to the civilian population had been severely punished by me personally, and every one of my punishments had been summary execution.
“Zero.”
The students’ eyes stirred with surprise.
“Furthermore, after the Durkon Legion entered the Zerpha capital, there was only a single case of requisition. And even that was compensated for afterward.”
Jean Pierre placed his hand on the lectern.
“A noble who utterly abhors civilian killings and requisition, that is, murder and robbery. And yet someone who, when it comes to achieving his objective, will trample anything and everything in his path.”
──Maximilian Ebenholtz.
The man sitting next to me murmured under his breath. I glanced at his face.
“The scion of a great house capable of moving a formidable legion like the Durkon, and the master of an authority that allows him to oversee and surveil the Empire at large… If you’ve been attending my lectures, I trust this should be an easy one.”
A bitter smile played at the corners of Jean Pierre’s mouth.
“Now then. As announced, today we will have a pop quiz on this Zerpha affair. The time right now is…”
He looked at his wristwatch.
“About forty-five minutes remaining, including the break.”
Teaching assistants appeared and quickly distributed blank exam papers to the students. A sheet was placed before me as well.
“Describe, using all your insight and imagination, how Zerpha, the monarchy, and the Empire will change going forward.”
I stared down at the blank page.
There was no reason whatsoever for me to take this exam, but…
I supposed giving them a hint or two couldn’t hurt.
“Could I borrow a pen?”
I asked the man next to me. The one who had just been muttering my name.
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
Scratch. Scratch.
I immediately began scrawling in Prozenese.
[Contrary to everyone’s concerns, I believe that unilateral exploitation of Zerpha will not occur.
The forces that have driven the Empire until now have grown old and obsolete, and a far younger, newer figure has risen.
Therefore, rather than crushing Zerpha, the Empire will pursue coexistence with them. Exploitation and annexation are, in truth, tremendously wasteful.
Squeezing Zerpha dry, provoking nationwide backlash, and then pouring military expenditures and administrative resources into suppressing the endless resistance that follows is an exceedingly outdated form of imperialism…
Just as nations develop and time marches on, ideology evolves as well.
Imperialism is no different. It never remains rooted in the past.
It is the ‘individual’ who pushes the past aside…
The foundation of imperialism is Philosophocracy. The belief that only the most superior and perfect philosopher can rightfully govern the masses. This leads to aristocratism, and curiously, the most famous novel in the Empire today is「Valtaras」, which advocates the concept of noblesse oblige, the responsibility of the aristocracy.
Therefore, if it is the Empire’s new aristocracy, they will leave Jeronika Mine as an asset of the Zerpha Royal Family. They will agree to share the profits while promising a future transfer of technology, and they will devote every effort to ensuring that Zerpha’s monarchy stands upright…
I also believe it is fortunate for Zerpha that their leader is someone as pliable as Alonso. A leader swollen with pride and ego would instead be broken by the Empire, but Alonso can bend without breaking and navigate the situation with skill…
In the end, the Empire will not exploit Zerpha, and Zerpha will simply develop under the Empire’s guidance…]
Becoming completely dependent on the Empire, unable to do anything on its own.
That was the future soon to befall Zerpha.
And I would be the one steering it there.
“Alright. Time’s up.”
In the meantime, forty-five minutes had passed.
I returned the pen to the guy next to me, and the teaching assistant collected my answer sheet.
