My father regaled me with tales of a quaint village, one poised to engulf all that the Costuul family has erected. Irlam, a hamlet under the dominion of Marquess Roswaal L. Mathers.
Merely hearing its name instilled fear within me.
I may not possess innate valor, though I must feign it; dread always clutches at me. Despite my inherent cowardice, I yearn for the comfort that only risk can proffer. They even attempted to forge an alliance with us. We, the Costuul's, reign as one of the kingdom's paramount cities.
All aspire to be in good graces with Costuul and exploit our factories.
However, in recent months, those with whom we hold contracts have been seeking pretexts to sever ties.
"The costs are prohibitively high," allege these individuals, resorting to base excuses.
Steam-powered machines akin to those we produce in Costuul have flooded the market. Yet, we failed to foresee the shift. Production machines, once our monopoly, now proliferate everywhere.
Irlam has amassed resources from across Lugunica and monopolizes their production on a grand scale.
They employ production methods unbeknownst to us, continuously enhancing and introducing new commodities to the market each month. Unlike us, who were compelled to safeguard our assets, they expanded their influence.
They wield ownership over the machines, training others and reaping dividends in tangible goods.
In addition to the steel, which they now produce in their small town.
This swiftly propelled Irlam into a position of dominance in resource accumulation across Lugunica. Steam-powered machines gained notoriety, with Irlam controlling their production.
We procured several in attempts to dismantle them, yet they devised a method to render it impossible. The most esteemed mages on the continent endeavored to do so, to no avail. They devised a means to vend them without risk of theft.
Had we possessed such a method, we would have done the same, but alas, we do not always have the ear of Lugunica's preeminent mage.
Since the onset of the competition for candidacy, our focus shifted to Frey Karsten. We resolved to support him, for we would not support a half-demon.
The demihumans are here to serve us; we humans will always be superior. That's why we welcome them in this city, to make them work for us. Although that's just the idea my father sells.
I would have made a different decision.
In the midst of a tense atmosphere, as I am getting changed, I begin to feel more and more anxious. My heart beats strongly because I know our current enemies are not to be trifled with.
"Hurry, I need to meet with father now," I exclaim urgently, looking at the demihuman dressing me. My mind is flooded with thoughts about the plan father has for the war.
The plan is flawless. Costuul has never needed to form an army, but secretly we have a force composed of demihumans. Thanks to this and the kingdom's protection, we have no major enemies.
Any organization or guild that threatens Costuul's production is eradicated instantly. Such is life, such is the way things work. The strong reign and the weak fall. That's why I cannot show weakness, even if fear grips me.
Once changed, I walk through the long corridors of my castle. I observe how the order that reigns is threatened by sudden enemies. In order to diminish their chances of winning, my father, a determined marquess, chose not to directly participate in this conflict, compelling the Marquess on our side to abstain as well.
It will be me, against the enigmatic Viscount of Irlam. It is said he possesses an unknown strength, and rumors about him abound. He fought against Knight Julius Juukulius and held his ground.
His arsenal remains a mystery.
Spies sent to Irlam fail to comprehend it or gather valuable information. They end up being discovered and subsequently slain. Furthermore, their warehouses are protected by spells, rendering them inaccessible.
The situation is becoming increasingly challenging.
I open the doors leading to my father's office; upon entering, I can see him seated with a displeased expression. Upon seeing me, he sighs, as if the situation is not going entirely well.
"It is an honor to see you today, Marquess Harald," I kneel, bowing towards him. Yes, my father, Marquess Harald Costuul, owner of the entire city of Costuul and the strongest man I've ever seen.
My father is no ordinary man; to him, we are nothing more than pawns in a game.
The honor of the Costuul family is paramount. The strong endure, while the weak are consigned to toil and scorned by the rest of the family. I am acutely aware of this reality.
Hence, I have been able to rise above others, indifferent to whether my siblings perish or if I must orchestrate their downfall.
My father gestures for me to take a seat, his gaze stern, devoid of any semblance of warmth, an empty gaze driven solely by ambition.
"The war has been sanctioned, as expected. The Marquess and the Viscount have given the green light for war," he states, his severe gaze chilling my blood, conveying that any misdeed could lead to my demise.
I nod solemnly, without uttering a word.
My father continues, his words resonating in the room laden with anticipation.
"The battle will commence a month from today. We will prepare our troops, but this will not be an ordinary battle," he declares, prompting my gaze to fixate on the window beside him. Then, I turn to my father with a smile, understanding that this struggle will be different, fraught with challenges to overcome.
At that moment, my father retrieves something from his desk and presents it to me solemnly.
"Soon, a disciple of one of the Ten Great Sages will arrive. He will be in the fray, and his duty will be to always protect you," my father informs me as he tosses the object to me.
Catching it, I observe an obsidian crystal emitting a strange aura that sends a shiver down my spine.
"We have nearly two thousand fighters for this battle," my father points out, indicating the demihuman servant at his side, who seems unperturbed by the magnitude of the situation. "There is no way you can be defeated." A sigh of relief escapes my lips.
Two thousand demihumans are not figures to be taken lightly.
According to the intelligence we possess, Irlam's army comprises approximately between five hundred and seven hundred individuals, putting them at a clear disadvantage.
My father presses on, his expression grave, his hands clenching with determination.
"Our objective is clear. We will seize their territory, capture that bastard, and extract all the information we need," he declares, his gaze brimming with hatred, his furrowed brow as if taking offense. Despite that, he smiles arrogantly. "All thanks to that vile half-demon."
Behind him stands his star servant. A demihuman who used to be a mercenary. His power is remarkable, the highest among all the demihumans I've seen. A strong and intelligent person who was reduced to nothing after being defeated by my father.
The figure of a lion lies behind my father's smile.
My father only wears such a smile when victory is assured. However, a disquieting thought plagues me, and finally, with trepidation in my heart, I muster the courage to articulate it:
"Father... in the improbable event that they should defeat us... are we truly prepared to cede them our portion of the mountain and an extension of the city?" My father regards me in silence.
Cold sweat begins to trickle down my brow, my blood chills, and my heart beats forcefully. I move my hands, endeavoring to quell these nerves.
"The territorial disputes ought to be equitable, and our aim is the entire township, along with the schematics we purportedly misplaced."
The silence envelops the chamber as I await my father's response, cognizant that this war will determine the fate of our family and our legacy.
Conversely, they have wagered their territory for the other part of the mountain, which we have been unable to utilize due to the abundance of formidable creatures inhabiting it, along with the farthest stretch of our city, scarcely larger than their own town.
My father regards me with a degree of annoyance, as if my inquiry vexes him.
"They are barren lands; we have no need for barrenness within our territory. It's a perfect pretext to rid ourselves of that mountain and shift the burden onto them." He gestures toward the window, affording a view of the imposing mountain. "The individuals dwelling nearby are naught but hindrances; the only ones of worth are those toiling in the city."
I dissent from his assertion. I believe that anyone can be of utility if their skills are appropriately harnessed. Allocating them territory in the hypothetical scenario will only serve to elevate their standing.
"If you fail, you needn't concern yourself with that," my father declares coldly.
My eyes widen at his statement, my hands tremble as my heart pounds vigorously. His insinuation is not difficult to discern.
Essentially, if I fail, I am doomed.
I rise from my seat and make for the exit, but at that precise moment, someone enters. He is a man nearly as old as my father, with a gaunt appearance, sunken cheeks, and dark circles as profound as coin sacks.
He wears a tattered and worn tunic, suggesting he has not bathed in quite some time.
I endeavor to mask my expression of disdain as I suppress the fear within me. With a forced smile, I bow to the newcomer.
"It is a pleasure to see you, Mr. Flynn," I murmur respectfully.
However, Flynn strides past, paying no heed to my greeting. Instead, he approaches my father without evincing the slightest hint of fear.
"I have what you desired," Flynn announces, presenting a pungent sack imbued with an unsettling aura. "Lord Frey was clear: if you wish to make use of this, you must pay a price. This commodity is incomplete, so do not expect too much."
The atmosphere in the chamber grows even more tense with Flynn's arrival and the mysterious delivery. The future is uncertain, and the decisions made in the coming moments will have an irreversible impact on our family and the fate of us all.
Frey Karsten, an enigmatic figure concealed within the shadows. His military might far surpass that of Irlam.
However, he stated that he would not intervene due to the non-aggression treaty they have between them. The Karsten family is the closest to the realm, so merely aligning with his candidacy gives us a push towards more power.
It is evident that he is the favorite of all.
Although his semi-alliance with the candidate prevents us from fighting alongside him, he could still be of assistance.
"This will suffice for half of the provisions, well done," my father remarks as he takes the bag and stows it away in a drawer. His gaze is arrogant, brimming with confidence. "I cannot wait to see those wretches without even a chance to laugh."
While my father exudes confidence, I do not share his certainty. I sense that there is more at stake, a latent fear, a feeling that our adversaries are unpredictable.
"Erick!" my father exclaims my name. At his summons, I rise and look at him. He points to Flynn and shoots me an angry glance.
"This man will ensure your safety. The command center will be the auxiliary castle, which is closer to the Costuul exit."
The auxiliary castle sits atop a mountain, making it a strategic location for our refuge. If our enemies attempt to ascend, they have only a narrow path to do so, which would spell their doom.
"I will be under your protection, Mr. Flynn," I declare as I bow, and he nods slightly uncomfortable.
Then, Flynn adds firmly, "While under my guardianship, no harm shall befall you."
He is one of the hidden mages of Lugunica, although his current appearance is far from the man I remember. I suppose I should not dwell on his looks; it seems something is consuming him from within.
I have questions, but it is evident that this is not the opportune moment to ask them.
The strategy is not yet fully laid out, but it does not seem to be an insurmountable task.
"I will reveal the details of the strategy a week before the battle to prevent leaks. I will prepare everything," my father says, looking at me without showing signs of complete trust. "I hope you can follow the plan. We will invest heavily in weaponry, but if you fail to deliver, you know what the consequence will be."
If I cannot do it, it is best that I do not return.
That is, only if I have the chance to escape. I must continue to do as he desires if I want to seize everything from him; I must remain part of his twisted game.
I hate him, oh... I hate him with an unfathomable intensity.
If only I could rid the world of him, I would do so this very moment. But my father is strong, extremely strong. He often conceals his true strength, but I have witnessed it. If he wished, he could rival the finest knights, even surpass the chief of the knights.
"Go, I have matters to discuss with Mr. Flynn," he orders, interrupting my thoughts.
I nod silently, bid farewell, and leave the room. A maid awaits me outside and hands me a letter.
As I read it, a smile lights up my face.
"Today, I was able to enjoy the sunlight for five minutes. Thank you."
The world belongs to the strong, and therefore, the weak have no choice but to be consumed.
"Thank you for bringing it. You may now retire and rest," I tell the maid before walking away.
I contemplate the sunset while internally debating whether I should betray my own father.
Ambition consumes me; I know that by aligning with the Viscount of Irlam, I will find the opportunity to seize Costuul. My family has renown, and although her death would affect it, it would not topple it.
Only then can I rescue her and forge the life I long for.
I clench my fists, caught in a dilemma, unsure of which path to choose.
As I sip on a delicious tea, I observe the person in front of me, utterly unhinged. Their dark eyes, while a sinister liquid oozes from their lips, are fascinating. They struggle desperately to escape the cage, but every effort proves futile.
They pound and abuse their own body, first breaking their hands and then utilizing their arms and legs. When there's nothing left, death rapidly overtakes them.
"Lord Bordeaux Zellgef, a letter has arrived," my servant delivers the message and quickly retreats. The demihuman continues to fiercely bite the cage, their teeth shattering, and blood flowing, displaying their weakness.
I meticulously jot down notes in my ledger on the effects, confirming that the experiment has been a resounding failure.
There's no improvement; the concentration of this energy is too powerful for any ordinary being. Once the creature ceases to move, I open the cage, watching as its skin slowly sloughs off. A half-human reduced to nothing more than a limp, soft mass.
It's intriguing, the effects of this substance are highly peculiar, but it proves useful in small doses. This drug becomes a valuable tool for my plans, ensuring that those who consume it perish mercilessly.
If I use this weapon, I can initiate my plan.
The demihuman who still believes they can prevail disgusts me. "Disgusting," I spit in the demihumans direction, applauding for my servants to remove them from the scene. Miklotov has postponed the war by a month, which suits me.
Now, with half the remaining time, if I can perfect this drug to its fullest extent, my extermination plan will proceed without hindrance.
Although some on the council, of which we are ten, oppose it, I am determined to dominate the demihuman race and strip them of their rights. In the darkness, I plan my next move. I scrutinize the letter I hold in my hands, searching for signs that everything is proceeding as planned in Costuul.
War is looming, and any of its potential outcomes are convenient for me. If Irlam falls defeated, we must take steps to seize their resources.
However, one name haunts me: Marco Luz.
Somehow, this individual has managed to accumulate countless achievements and earn the respect and admiration of the masses. He is the creator of the typewriter and the steam engine, a genius whose ingenuity seems endless.
That's why I need to subdue him. Once my drug is complete, I'll deal with him without any trouble. Amidst my thoughts, my loyal servant, Flynn, kneels before me.
"Master," he whispers reverently, "the preparations are complete, and the version I've created is compatible."
I stroke my beard carefully, pondering the possibility that his claim is true. They will see, once I'm done with Miklotov, I'll have absolute control over everything. Marcus must perish, Reinhard must be excluded.
I must transform everything if I wish to achieve my goal.
For that, the first person who must fall under my command is Marco Luz. If I conquer him, the world will be at my feet. As I devise my marvelous plans, I can't help but think of a little girl.
I hope she's ready too, as she'll be my key candidate in my wonderful plan.
I stand, gazing out the window with a smile. I enjoy watching people work, bustling about, for it assures me that business is progressing. The world is driven by hunger, and hunger is relieved by money.
Isn't it fascinating?
The door to my office swings open, prompting me to turn and see who it is. Upon spotting my loyal knight, I smile, but it seems he bears ill tidings.
"Miss Anastasia, you must see this," Julius hands me a letter, "it's from the capital."
My eyes widen with surprise as I take the letter in hand. On my desk lies that contraption they brought in, using the paper I provided. It's an invention from which I reap great profits, but I doubt my gains surpass theirs in this venture.
An invention they called a newspaper.
They devised a clever way to print writings, even including images and logos. The entire process is done with machines, so it's not overly costly to produce.
They gained popularity swiftly, with it being fashionable even now to carry a newspaper. Among the nobles, discussion groups form around the newspaper's topics.
That's when I understood the powerful weapon they've created.
They've opened branches in the capital and here in Kararagi. The factories are guarded by army members. I even discovered they have explosives to destroy everything in case of unrest.
If having the weapon of information is already something significant, possessing the weapon to manipulate information is the ultimate power.
"Before looking at the letter..." I sigh, realizing there's no way to make it profitable without machines. "Do you think I should have been kinder to Viscount Marco and the candidate?
Their achievements are not insignificant; even the candidate, Emilia, has been gaining popularity among healing mages. They've been transforming everything and turning business into a fierce battle.
Julius glances at the newspaper, then meets my gaze.
"Knowing him, I'm sure it would have ended worse," his words reassure me, but I'm not entirely convinced.
We maintain a formal relationship, but I always feel guarded around him. It's as if he can read me, a truly peculiar man. Although I must admit, I don't dislike it.
My instinct never fails; he's someone who can rival me in business.
The problem is, he's not just good at it.
However, if there's one thing, I don't see in him, it's an instinct for investments outside of inventions. That's why I've been focusing on nurturing the businesses I see as promising. He has shortcomings, but he also has the power to compensate for those shortcomings.
I open the letter and devour its contents eagerly. A smile creeps onto my lips.
"It seems we'll have quite a show this time," I say as I observe the newspaper, where a headline about unusual activities in Costuul stands out.
Now I understand their strategy.
Julius looks at me with surprise.
"Miss Anastasia, do you think Marco might have stolen something from Costuul?"
I shake my head immediately. If Irlam were the culprit, they would have acted differently. This is a screen, something planned by someone else.
"What they desire is not simply Irlam; there is something more. I believe Viscount Marco might be in danger," I add with a smile as I watch the approaching sunrise. "In any case, we have no choice but to wait and see what happens."
Then, my eyes land on the other page of the newspaper, where the official launch of the second version of the steam engine is announced in two weeks.
A more efficient and advanced version than the previous one, but also more expensive.
"A war with Costuul..." Julius seems concerned about Marco; ever since his presentation during the selection, he has held him in high esteem. "I hope it doesn't go wrong."
In a war, there are no winners; economically, there are only losers. But Marco must have his reasons, and I have mine.
I look at the book on my desk.
If Marco can win that war, I believe we'll have much more work to do.
"If I want to conquer the world, I must first protect it." I glance at Julius, who understands my words. "Perhaps they know more about this than we do."
"Hoshin Diary, Second Edition," I whisper to myself as I squint my eyes. My heart beats intensely; after all, there's now something that concerns me more than business.
If what is said here is true, then the race for the throne is nothing more than one goal among many. Becoming queen of Lugunica won't make it mine.
First, I must learn how to protect it.
I send you my best wishes, Marco Luz.
If you win, it will be time for me to pay a visit to Irlam.