Chapter 3: The Birth Cry of the Empress Faction —Mia’s Hand Moves of Its Own Accord Again—

The day after his meeting with Mia, Ludwig walked into an old house tucked away in a corner of the capital. It was here that a secret gathering was under way. A flame wavered inside, illuminating the faces of eight people. There was a mix of men and women, and they sat loosely around a table engaging in leisurely banter. The figures of Ludwig’s collaborators, Balthazar and Gilbert, could be seen among them. That which connected the three men was shared by all the others in the room. Indeed, it was a gathering of the Galvanus cohort.

Some were diplomats from the Jade Moon Ministry, others were capital administration officials from the Azure Moon Ministry, and there were also those from the same Golden Moon Ministry that Ludwig worked in. A particularly eccentric individual was even following one of the central nobility around as a member of their close retinue, mostly for personal amusement. Though the nature of their posts differed, the importance did not. They all held key positions that demanded competence, which they delivered in spades.

“Gotta say, this is news to me. I had no idea those nobles were still alive somewhere out there... They’re seriously talented. So much so, frankly, that I thought for sure they’d been offed already.”

The current topic of discussion was Duke Yellowmoon’s covert maneuvering which, despite the momentousness of the revelation, was discussed with the air of small talk.

“And now they’re coming back? Truly?” Another member chimed in with a shrug. “I was counting on them to ferry me out of here when the empire inevitably implodes. So much for my escape plan.”

His sardonic grin suggested he’d known about Duke Yellowmoon’s maneuvering the whole time. Known...and not told anyone. He’d kept his cards very close to his chest, saving them for a future occasion where they might prove useful—to him and only him.

Make no mistake, these were not middling minds. They were shrewd and capable, unquestionably excellent. But they were also free, relentlessly so, and shunned restraint. They were not and would not be bound by the empire. Because they excelled, they could go to any nation and thrive. Consequently, if the empire were to collapse under the weight of its own rot, they’d simply leave. Their old master had lectured them time and again about how there was no need to martyr themselves for the sake of foolish nobles, and they’d taken his teachings to heart. These were not the types to go down with the ship; they’d abandon it at the first sign of a breached hull and jump to another vessel.

But, mused Ludwig, if I want to make Empress Mia a reality, I’m going to need even more help from people like them. Cooperation from nobles goes without saying, but government officials play a key role in moving a nation forward.

With Mia steadily pulling various nobles and the young scions of the Four Houses into her orbit, it fell on Ludwig to rally the administrative side of things. He needed to win over his fellow pupils at all costs.

“It’s good to see everyone,” Ludwig began. All eyes focused on him. “First, let me apologize for asking you to take time out of your busy schedules to gather here.”

“No need to apologize, Ludwig. It’s not like any of us even considered refusing. Not at a time like this. Right?” said Gilbert, grinning as he glanced around the room. No one objected. “After all, the patron saint of our dear elder pupil just declared her intention to succeed the throne in spectacular fashion. Then, said elder pupil proceeds to blow the ‘Team Galv assemble’ horn. Honestly, who wouldn’t show up to something this exciting?”

“I see... Well, that’s promising, I suppose.”

Ludwig met the gaze of each member in turn, then adjusted his glasses.

“I’ll get straight to the point then. I’d like you all to throw your weight behind Her Highness.”

“My weight, eh? Well, I’ve got plenty of that to throw around...” quipped one of the men. He jokingly slapped his stomach before his gaze took on a taunting air. “But is she worth it? I was under the impression that all this empire’s lords and ladies and His and Her High and Mightinesses are defined by their ineptitude. Are you telling me Princess Mia is an exception?”

“Absolutely. But feel free to decide for yourself,” replied Ludwig as he produced a bundle of parchment. Numerical tabulations filled the pages.

“What are those supposed to be?”

“Something I’d like you all to see.” His audience waited in silence as Ludwig drew in a long breath. He looked at each of their faces in turn, then resumed in a solemn tone. “This year...will mark the beginning of a great famine.”

Long before arriving, he’d decided that he would take advantage of the looming crisis to secure the support of his cohort. The benefits were twofold and synergistic. By demonstrating Mia’s prudence in preparing for the plight, he could convince his fellow pupils to support him, and by gaining their support, he’d be able to utilize their talents to fight the famine. As an added bonus, it would also tie them down, preventing them from jumping ship at the first sign of trouble.

How exactly would he bring them on board? Well, being students of Master Galv, this was a collection of intensely curious minds. If he were to preemptively show them a collection of data that suggested the famine was coming, and then declare the famine would be here to stay for three years...what would they think? There was no way any of them could resist the urge to stay and watch how his prophecy unfolded. He knew these people, knew how they thought. For former pupils of Master Galv, a proposition of this nature straddled the line between rationality and the occult so perfectly that it was like catnip for the mind.

“A famine, huh? The signs are certainly there—the decrease in wheat yield last year, for example. I also hear that current early-spring reports of crop growth aren’t looking too hot either,” mumbled one of the members.

“On that note,” Balthazar interrupted, “the Scarlet Moon Ministry’s not-official-but-might-as-well-be stance is that the empire will see decreased crop yields this year across the board. A likely contributor is the cooler temperatures we’ve been seeing since last summer.”

Another voice followed up on his comment. “The Jade Moon Ministry’s position is that the risk of a famine is relatively high. Poor crops are not limited to the empire. The price of imports from neighboring kingdoms is on the rise. It hasn’t reached dire levels yet, but...”

It could be the start of a vicious cycle. Rising food prices led to poor people starving. Soon, some of the starved would begin to die, resulting in a decrease of able-bodied workers. With a labor shortage, the following year’s yields would likely continue to decrease.

“That’s all very interesting, but what’s your point? We can read reports too. I’m pretty sure everyone here already saw this coming,” said another member in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“I’m sure you did. But did you see it coming two years ago?” asked Ludwig. “Because that’s when Her Highness made her prediction. I have been preparing ever since.”

“...Two years ago? You can’t be serious.”

One of the men, previously leaning back in his chair, shot up and began to pore over the parchments.

“Under Her Highness’s leadership,” Ludwig continued, “I have spent the past two years improving the empire’s financial health while simultaneously increasing food reserves. Furthermore, Her Highness, in accounting for the possibility of crop failures occurring not only within the empire but neighboring kingdoms as well, has established wheat import channels from distant nations.”

“Long-distance import of wheat operated through the Forkroads,” one man said, mulling over the situation. “And with fixed prices too... Hm...”

“Makes sense,” another chimed in. “By paying a premium during ordinary times, she’s ensuring affordable supply during crises. A pretty decent idea, honestly. In fact, isn’t this a concept that merchant guilds can implement?”

Pensive compliments could be heard throughout the room.

“But could she really have predicted this turn of events? Are you claiming that the princess is a prophet? That she has knowledge of the future?”

Ludwig did not immediately respond. He prodded the bridge of his glasses and considered his answer. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to describe Mia’s foresight as prophetic. The accuracy of her predictions more than merited the term. He did not, however, believe that supernatural capabilities were involved.

“I...certainly do not understand everything that goes through Her Highness’s mind,” Ludwig replied. “However, with respect to your question, I personally believe that her actions are rooted in not divine providence but labor. Hard and relentless mental labor.”

“Brainwork, then. You’re saying brainwork—that is, extensive amounts of observation and prediction—can ultimately predict the future? A tenable argument, I suppose. When you think about it, famines have patterns too. They occur in cycles. Studying history can give us a rough idea of when they might strike.”

“That’s not all,” added another member. “She probably has a very accurate grasp of the empire’s current state. That must have allowed her to see the early warning signs of trouble. Be it famine, trade embargos by foreign nations, or even war... All forms of sudden societal upheaval come with visible red flags.”

The conversers nodded at each other and turned to Ludwig.

“I see where you’re going with this. The plan is to use this famine to consolidate the masses around her once and for all. Once the famine really starts to spread, you’ll show up like knights in shining armor and start doling out food. If the local lords are being stingy, you can oust them as evildoers and build support for yourself amongst the people. Divide and conquer, basically—except you’re dividing lords from their people. This is honestly impressive statecraft.”

Ludwig shook his head. “You’re missing the forest for the trees. What Her Highness is trying to achieve...is something much grander in scope.”

And it was then that Mia’s metaphorical hand smiled with supreme confidence.

“What do you mean by that?” asked a dubious listener.

“What I mean,” said Ludwig, “is that Her Highness gave me a command... And that command is ‘don’t make any enemies.’”

“‘Don’t make any enemies’? What the flipping fairybutts is that supposed to mean?”

As Ludwig regarded their bewildered faces, he couldn’t resist a wry smile. Ah, it’s like looking at my past self. Back when I first met Her Highness, I was just like them, entirely incapable of understanding her true intentions.

As a matter of fact, when he’d gone to report to Mia, there had been an issue troubling him. He wasn’t sure how the food reserves should be distributed. The stockpiling process itself was fortunately proceeding smoothly. If their goal was simply the subsistence of their people, they already had plenty of wiggle room to work with.

But circumstances had changed. With Mia’s “Declaration of Succession” the other day, Ludwig was forced to shift his viewpoint. It was no longer about how to beat the famine; it was about how to take advantage of the famine. The simplest method was to oust the nobles who were potential obstacles on Mia’s path to the throne. The coming crisis was a golden opportunity to get rid of those harboring ill intent toward a future Empress Mia, as well as root out any incompetent liabilities in their ranks. By pulling the hearts of people away from their local lords and toward Mia, it was highly likely that they could eliminate opposition with ruthless efficiency. That would doubtlessly be a boon for the Empress Mia project.

Something, though...didn’t feel right about that approach. It just wasn’t how Mia did things. He struggled with this doubt all the way into her room, whereupon she instructed him not to make any enemies. It was vague, more direction than destination, but it was enough. Given the timing and circumstances, she could have only meant...

“Let me ask you all a question,” he said, turning toward the room. “You’ve all read the documents I brought. Was there anything lacking? Some insufficiency to the data? If you were given this and told to carry out the divide and conquer strategy you yourselves described earlier, would you have any difficulty? No? Well, when Her Highness laid her eyes upon this data, she told me that she still had no idea. In other words, the data is insufficient. So what exactly, pray tell, is insufficient here? Any answers?”

The listeners shared confused looks. Ludwig let them converse amongst themselves for some time, then called for attention and met each of their gazes in turn.

“The answer is simple: it does not contain a breakdown of the food reserves in each noble domain.”

When Ludwig had presented the parchments to Mia, she’d swiftly flipped through them and said, “I still have no idea.” Meanwhile, this room full of young elites, with all their talent and knowhow, had pored over the contents and voiced not a single concern about its adequacy. What, then, had prompted such a statement from the Great Sage of the Empire? What had she deemed lacking? Ludwig knew why; it was a reason that truly reflected Mia’s way of thinking.

“Well, now I have no idea,” said one of the members in the room. “A breakdown of food reserves by domain? Sure, that’d be nice to have, but what could possibly be worth the ridiculous amount of effort required to get such data?”

The skepticism was valid. In a way, even correct. If the goal was to divide lords from their people, the amount of provisions saved in each domain would indeed be an irrelevant figure. As long as the lord in question didn’t actually make use of the stockpile, the plan would work. The point was to create the impression that local nobles wouldn’t give any aid, whereas Mia would swiftly swoop in to help. It was the story that mattered—exact numbers were an afterthought.

It was an easy impression to create too, because if the noble in question was a rotten one, they’d abandon the masses regardless of the size of their stores. When it came to food during a famine, their philosophy remained “the more the merrier,” even if it cost the lives of their people. This philosophy, for the most part, defined the noble experience.

While it was possible to depose bad actors and put their provisions to better use, there was no guarantee that the provisions weren’t already used up. The possibility of forcibly dislodging a lord only to discover his stockpile empty made the entire approach unreliable. There was no need to introduce such inconsistency into the plan. If Mia was truly intent on dividing and conquering, she’d be better off treating the exact quantities in individual stockpiles as trivia instead of data.

But she didn’t. She said she still had no idea, meaning the information missing from Ludwig’s report was, in fact, critical. What did that suggest? He knew what Mia had done to Viscount Berman, and he knew what she’d done to the young nobles in Saint-Noel Academy who’d affronted Tiona. Armed with this knowledge, it didn’t take him long to deduce the answer.

“Why a breakdown of food reserves by domain is necessary, you ask? Simple again. In the process of dealing with this famine, Her Highness intends to drag the nobles in as well.”

“Drag the nobles in?” came a confused voice. “What’s she trying to do?”

“Nothing complicated,” answered Ludwig. “With privilege comes duty. To be a noble is to have noble obligations. She only wishes to see those obligations fulfilled.”

Nobles collected taxes from their subjects. In return, they had an obligation to protect their subjects—not only from invaders but also plagues and famine. Though this arrangement was built on moral principles, there was a practical side to it as well. Should a lord fail to provide a healthy standard of living for his people, their ability to do work would fall, resulting in less taxes being generated and eventually a financial crisis for the lord himself. Whether viewed through the lens of idealism or pragmatism, nobles needed to fulfill certain obligations to their subjects.

“In my opinion,” explained Ludwig, “Her Highness is trying to make nobles take up the mantle of protecting their people. First, she’ll have them fork out all the food they hoarded. If—and only if—it’s not enough will she supplement the supply.”

That was why she’d told him not to make any enemies. The timing of her instruction was telling. He’d already informed her that they had sufficient food reserves to keep the masses fed. She was therefore advising him on the ensuing question—how to use those reserves.

“That sounds like a sketchy plan. I can’t imagine all the lords and ladies suddenly becoming good little children and doing the right thing.”

Ludwig shook his head at the naysayer. “They won’t do so willingly, of course; pressure will surely be applied. Let me put this in simpler terms. So far, Her Highness has always maintained a magnanimous attitude toward the masses, as evidenced by her commissioning of the hospital in the Newmoon District and her recent birthday festival.”

As he spoke, it occurred to him in a moment of awe that the birthday festival was very likely a part of the plan. While he was busy getting emotional about her announcement, she’d already begun to maneuver.

“Could someone like her who loves her people so deeply,” he continued, “possibly have a favorable view of nobles who would forsake their people to protect their own interests? Absolutely not. She would pressure them. At the same time, she’d give them a way out. If they did everything they could to help their people, when their stockpiles ran low, she’d pick up the slack. It’s the carrot to her stick. She’s essentially telling them, ‘keep your people fed, and I’ll keep you fed.’”

In other words, Mia wouldn’t directly provide any food to the people. She’d send it through the governing noble of each domain and have them distribute the supply.

“If you think about it from that perspective, you’ll find that the recent birthday festival was, in fact, laying the groundwork for this grand plan. It strengthened the bonds between nobles and commoners while also serving as a practice run for food distribution within their domains.”

By participating in the festival, nobles gained highly relevant knowledge about how many people they ruled over and how much food was needed.

“Having the central government micromanage every aspect of this operation is both labor-intensive and inefficient. It also adds layers of complexity, resulting in obstacles that prevent the smooth flow of food. If food doesn’t flow, people will die. Therefore, it’s better to utilize existing channels preestablished by local rulers.”

The empire’s lands were vast. No single human could oversee its entirety—not even Mia. The circumstances of a farmer in a distant domain was not something she could personally attend to. She could, however, ask that farmer’s lord to do so, for it was his duty. The logic was actually exceedingly simple.

“That way, the rulers will also make a good impression on their subjects. If Her Highness were to wade in by herself and provide aid, it would drive a wedge between them. She’d effectively be breeding animosity, causing people to scorn their rulers.”

Which was, of course, the very objective of the divide and conquer strategy.

“Her Highness does not wish to make enemies of the nobles. If anything, she’s hoping to use this opportunity to rally them to her side.”

“But that’s...not how things are done! It’s unreasonable!” protested one listener.

“True,” answered Ludwig. “The reasonable way would be to wait for an incompetent ruler to fail and fall, then take over and rule the domain properly. It might even be the correct method. More efficient and takes less work.”

This method wasn’t only effective for removing enemies but also unproductive actors. In the process of making Mia empress, it was highly likely that incompetent nobles would also become obstacles. Nevertheless, Ludwig shook his head.

“If the goal is to rule efficiently, then replacing the top is definitely the most logical option. But that’s not her way. If a sword is dull and unusable, her preferred solution is not to throw it away and buy a new one, but to resharpen its blade to retrieve its utility. She does not get rid of useless people; she makes them useful instead. That is her way.”

Just like how she converted Berman, turning him from fierce opponent to stalwart loyalist.

“But that also gives more power to local rulers,” cautioned another voice. “Some of them might have less-than-noble ideas of how to use that power.”

What Ludwig was suggesting was the polar opposite of divide and conquer. It called for benevolent rule by local rulers and provided them with the means to do so. They’d enjoy increased political clout and tighter bonds with their people. With this newfound strength, they could very well rally against Mia. That was not an impossible scenario...but it was also a scenario that had been accounted for.

“Eh, so what?” argued a third voice. “They’ve got that covered. Nobody’s going to stand against her right now. Not after the stunt she pulled at the palace. She established a firm fellowship with Saint Rafina, Prince Sion of Sunkland, and Prince Abel of Remno. She commands the empire’s most elite group of soldiers, the Princess Guard. And the vice captain of the Guard is Duke Redmoon’s daughter, giving her significant military sway. Plus, I hear she’s on very good terms with Duke Greenmoon’s daughter, and has even managed to ingratiate herself with Duke Bluemoon’s son by getting him into the student council.”

Right now, Mia was no mere princess. The amount of political clout she wielded had grown to such staggering heights that opposing her was, for the most part, no longer feasible. Even if one ruled over the largest domain in the empire, commanded a topnotch private army, and enjoyed fierce loyalty from their people, they’d still have to think twice. She’d exerted dominance through that display during the festival, and the nobles in attendance had been duly dominated.

“No way... You’re saying it was all calculated?” asked a bewildered member. “That she’d already accounted for all of this beforehand, and on top of that chose to show up in that dress? It was a deliberate power move to get the nobles in line?”

“It is very likely,” said Ludwig, “that what we’ve just discussed forms the basis of Her Highness’s vision. Now that we’ve elucidated her intentions, I plan to act on them. For the time being, I’d like to ask each of you to use the power of your respective stations to help prepare for the famine. While you do, it is my hope that you will judge for yourselves whether Her Highness is worthy of being crowned empress.”

With that, Ludwig quietly bowed.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. She’s one hell of a person, isn’t she?” Gilbert sighed before sardonically shaking his head. “Honestly, sometimes, it feels like she can get everything done by herself. I’m not even sure if she needs the help of us mere mortals.”

Ludwig shook his head. “No, Her Highness is well aware of how society operates.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t understand? Allow me to explain, then. Yes, Her Highness is superbly competent, and she may very well be capable of accomplishing most things by herself. Mental labor especially is something she can usually handle by herself, but she also understands that an empire cannot function on mental labor alone.”

“Ah. And that’s why she gives people like you and me work?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason.”

“Hm? What else is there?” asked a blinking Gilbert.

“Haven’t you heard about the academy city project? Her Highness has a keen interest in nurturing young talent who can become future leaders of the empire. Before returning to Saint-Noel, she plans to take a detour to Princess Town so she can see how the academy city is coming along.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” a man nearby chimed in. “I heard the master is going to become headmaster at the school. Is that true, Ludwig?”

“It is. In fact, I’ve already asked a number of his pupils to work as lecturers. Her Highness doesn’t care about status or wealth; she intends to offer education to anyone who has the potential to make use of it. In essence, she’s trying to produce people like us through the formal educational system of an academy.”

A round of surprised mumbling erupted in the room. The thought of taking the student-teacher relationships between Galvanus and his students and reproducing them in a systematic fashion had never crossed their minds.

After a period of contemplation, Gilbert grinned like a man who’d just accepted a challenge. “Well, that just lit a fire under our asses, didn’t it? We’d better stop resting on our laurels or pretty soon, we’re going to get swallowed by an army of little Galvs.”

“Each of whom,” Ludwig added, “will be our equal in capability...but likely our superior in loyalty.”

The room went quiet as layer after layer of implications dawned on the reeling minds in the room. For many, the Great Sage of the Empire had, until recently, been an epithet rooted more in spectacle than fact. At last, they realized that it was by no means hyperbole.

“So...” After a long span, Balthazar, who hadn’t yet spoken a word during the meeting, broke the silence. “What should we call ourselves?”

“What, are we turning this into a whole thing?” quipped Gilbert. “Sure, we can do what the Remno revolutionaries did. Pick a color and we’ll all wear it. She wore purple to the ball, so maybe we can call ourselves the Purple Scarves.”

Ludwig frowned, then slowly shook his head. “No... Her Highness has made her position clear. It follows, then, that we must do the same. We shall be...the Empress Faction.”

“The Empress Faction...”

As they spoke the words, a palpable tension descended upon the room.

“The Empress Faction...and Tearmoon’s first empress.”

“Hah. Now that’s something worth working toward. I like it.”

In the dim recesses of an old house, the newly-formed Empress Faction rallied around Ludwig and took its first breath.

While Ludwig was busy conspiring in the capital, Mia departed for Viscount Berman’s domain. The plan was to take her detour first, then travel through the Sealence Forest and Outcount Rudolvon’s domain to reach Belluga. What the plan did not include was having to deal with a nuisance of an emperor who kept whining about how she “doesn’t have to leave so early” and “could at least let Bel stay a little longer, or even just leave her here.” Nevertheless, she dealt with the situation, albeit with no small amount of annoyance.

“Besides, Bel keeps munching on sweets. If I let her stay here any longer, she’s going to bloat up...”

It’s easy to be concerned about F.A.T. when it’s happening to other people. Such is the nature of the phenomenon. So, after prying her grumbling father away from Bel, the two girls set out together.

“Hmm... There’s a good bit of distance to Viscount Berman’s domain, isn’t there?” murmured Mia as her carriage trundled down the road. She was growing increasingly aware of the sheer vastness of the empire’s lands. “Sending food from the capital out to all those remote places is going to be a headache. It also means that if a place runs out of food, it’s going to take a while for the message to even reach us in the first place.”

In that case, going hungry for a couple meals was basically inevitable. She grimaced, feeling a visceral discomfort at the thought.

“An empty stomach is a terrible thing to endure. If only they didn’t have to wait for the food to reach them...”

In the previous timeline, Mia had gone on an empire-wide inspection-and-visitation tour, the purpose of which was to survey local conditions and encourage soldiers to remain at their posts. During the trip, she’d seen with her own eyes the misery inflicted by the famine, as well as the anger and hatred of her people. Fury over food is fury well-incensed. In the end, she’d gained an intimate understanding of how hunger robbed people of composure. Points to Ludwig for incorporating hands-on education!

“And Ludwig being Ludwig, he’ll probably send an endless amount of detailed reports my way. That’s going to give me so much work! I wonder if there’s a way to get around this problem...”

In general, the only time Mia didn’t slack off was when she was figuring out how to slack off.

“The more I think about it, the more I wish everyone was like Outcount Rudolvon and just voluntarily handled things for me. It’d be so much easier that way,” she lamented. “Plus, if the food’s being sent out from his domain, it’d reach all his neighboring regions faster too. Hm... I think helping local rulers set up their own food distributing channels might be an option. I can get someone to figure out the details later, but the idea seems solid. After all, no one knows a region better than the region’s own ruler. It’d be a waste not to take advantage of that. In fact, we have to make them work! What makes them think they can just twiddle their thumbs while I do all the heavy lifting?” Mia huffed. “All right, I’ve decided! I need to push Ludwig to start thinking in this direction...”

And so, through some cosmic miracle, the hearts of the princess and her vassal had become one! Initial motivation notwithstanding, Mia and Ludwig had, of their own separate accords, settled on the same unified goal.

She continued to contemplate the issue, and before she knew it, the emerging sight of Princess Town was demanding her attention.

Little did the newly gathered members of the Empress Faction know...the princess around whom they’d rallied would soon send their jaws to the floor once again. Not even Ludwig, their leader and Mia’s loyal autonomous appendage, saw it coming.