Semi-Coercive Imperialist

Crunch. Crunch.

The Empire, Hermes Province. The early edge of winter, rare snowflakes settling quietly in the south.

Crunch. Crunch.

Ezel Runselot stepped into the unfamiliar landscape. As a senior-rank mage of Sentio Magic Tower, she had been dispatched alongside several fellow mages, Jun Kandel among them.

"......Things have changed a lot."

The words left Ezel as a soft murmur, visible in the cold air like breath.

The Hermes they remembered had been nothing more than a southern backwater. But Maximilian and Ebenholtz's investment, along with the presence of Aternum, the munitions factory that had filled the void left by Gigantes, had transformed this frontier city completely.

"There's something strange about the atmosphere."

The other mages looked around with bright eyes.

Snow rarely piled up in the south, so the city's character sparkled with something extra.

Beyond the neatly swept snow paths, the main boulevard was laid out in clean, ruler-straight blocks lined with tidy storefronts. Restaurants, bakeries, and cafes dotted the streets, giving off a lively sense of daily life.

Children clutched toys their parents had bought them and grinned. Laughter spilled out from the taverns.

But running beneath all of it was a faintly suffocating control.

Turn your gaze just a little and the city's face went stark.

A large new regular army unit was garrisoned in southern Hermes. Walking the streets meant frequent encounters with heavily armed soldiers, who saluted the mages as a matter of course, and those soldiers patrolled around the clock alongside military dogs that moved like predators.

The entire province had been designated a special military zone. And now, if you were not pure-blooded Aran, entering the city was simply not possible.

"Hmm. What are all these dogs doing prowling the streets."

Jun Kandel, noble among nobles, wrinkled his brow sharply and clicked his tongue.

Just then, the military major serving as their guide pointed to a building ahead.

"We've arrived."

Ezel, Jun, and the rest of the mages stood before their destination: Aternum Third Maintenance Hall.

This was why they had been sent here.

Shells and ordnance were typically "standardized magic," so verifying their battlefield efficiency and stability required the assistance of senior mages affiliated with a magic tower.

They all passed through Aternum's iron gate.

"Ah, you're here. Welcome."

The chief engineer and researchers in white lab coats greeted them warmly. The other mages stepped forward without hesitation and launched straight into work talk, but Ezel found her feet unwilling to follow.

"......"

She stood alone at the edge of the research floor, looking over the shells scattered here and there, and fell into a brief, quiet thought.

Where would these weapons eventually land. How many people would they kill. What in the world did the Empire and the Emperor want......

"Ezel Runselot."

Jun Kandel's voice.

She startled back to herself. Jun gave her a look.

"Come in."

"......Yes, Professor."

She pushed the tangle of thoughts aside for now and followed him inside.

* * *

Crunch. Crunch.

Heavy snow fell on the front yard of the manor.

"Winter really is the best, I'm telling you."

Priya breathed out a white puff as she spoke. She was sprawled sideways in a rocking chair in the front yard, letting the cold snowflakes fall on her as though she intended to nap right through it.

"What about you?"

"......I have no time to enjoy the seasons."

"Oh, come on."

At my answer, Priya gave a short laugh.

"Seasons, to me, are nothing more than a sign that time is passing."

"Sheesh. Like you're the only one who's busy."

This was only a rest period before the next move.

In the months of internal lockdown just before a war broke out, the Revolutionary Faction could not act rashly, and Izenheim would certainly go dead quiet as well.

Still, there was no shortage of things I had to do.

Things that came to mind with winter.

First, the cold.

The Empire's subjects had always feared winter. But the mana stone stoves from Lorenzo Academy would be distributed free of charge again this year.

After the cold came the name of a small country.

Finnomia.

Before my regression, during the continental war, the Empire had not had a single country it could call an ally. The Empire's diplomacy had been so thoroughly rotten.

But not this time. Any nation willing to hand over Izenheim, or one where Izenheim were few in number, could become a partner of the Empire.

I stood up.

"Off somewhere again?"

Priya asked with half-closed eyes. Today was clearly scheduled for a swordsmanship lesson.

But lately she had not been teaching me a single form or technique. She pressed nothing but meditation, meditation, and more meditation.

"I have a trip. Military instruction."

Finnomia, that small snow-white nation, had reached out to the Empire first and requested military advisors.

A butterfly effect from weaker nations watching the Balkania-Mekerel war.

Finnomia was stronger than Mekerel in terms of national power, but its northern terrain was harsh and its population sparse.

The Empire's ministers had naturally been on the verge of turning the request down without even knowing where Finnomia was, but I stepped in and got it approved.

The name Ebenholtz is convenient in exactly this way. Any innovation or reform can be introduced without friction, and any diplomatic push can be driven through without resistance.

"Stay safe, you."

Priya was already more interested in Leo than in me these days. She waved a hand, and Leo wagged his tail and padded over to sit beside her.

Stroke. Stroke. Priya's hand moved gently through Leo's silver fur.

Crunch. Crunch.

I left the manor behind, that winter scene of settling snowflakes at my back.

......

During the continental war, Finnomia had fought against Lobrus.

Lobrus, having signed a non-aggression pact with the Empire, had wanted Finnomian territory. Finnomia was pushed back by Lobrus's armored columns and sheer weight of numbers, and half its land was occupied with ease.

This time had to be different. They needed to hold their defensive line and buy as much time as they could.

Of course, the gap in national power between the two countries was enormous.

But at the time, Lobrus itself had not been in perfect condition either. Varmil's Great Purge had sent so many capable generals to the chopping block that the command structure was in disarray.

So if Finnomia could tie Lobrus down, the Empire's prosecution of the war would go far more smoothly.

That was why I had bothered to visit this frozen country in person.

"You've had a long journey. Thank you for coming."

The headquarters of Finnomia's main force, the First Corps. Its commander, Lieutenant General Hannu, received me with courtesy.

"Thank you. It's good to meet you, Lieutenant General Hannu."

I answered not in the imperial language, but in Finnomia's own tongue. Hannu's face visibly brightened.

"Oh. You speak Nomian language, Sir Knight?"

"I'm still not very fluent."

The Nomian language, the language of Finnomia, had roots unlike any other tongue on the continent and was exceptionally difficult. Even borrowing my virus's language acquisition ability, it had taken considerable effort.

"Remarkable. I had heard that your gift for languages was exceptional, but......"

"It's nothing, really. Ah, our imperial officers will likely arrive by train tomorrow."

The purpose of this trip was military instruction: training Finnomia's military to the standard of the Empire's more advanced system.

"Yes. Please, right this way."

I followed Lieutenant General Hannu out to the parade ground. Finnomian soldiers of various ranks, majors, captains, sergeants, all snapped to attention and saluted in unison.

"Compared to the imperial army, we're rather modest and humble, I'm afraid."

"Not at all. Just looking at the soldiers' eyes, you can feel they are elite, and well-trained. Grand Marshal Wurse's command philosophy shows through."

"......You know the Grand Marshal well, Sir?"

At those few words of mine, Lieutenant General Hannu's expression shifted in a subtle way.

Before the regression, the Empire's diplomats had always put their foot in it. They were so consumed with flaunting the Empire's superiority and cutting others down.

As though that were the only way to uphold the Empire's dignity.

"A hero who won independence from the eastern clutches of Lobrus. I've read about him through various books and records."

But I believed the opposite. Acknowledging a smaller nation's culture and heroes gives them a tremendous source of pride in itself. Diplomacy, too, ultimately begins with one person liking another.

......Excerpt from "The Diplomatic Failures of the Empire," written by a specialist in republican foreign affairs.

"Grand Marshal Wurse is someone deeply worthy of admiration."

Wurse Mateus Mansner.

Even after the continental war ended, he was the hero and shield of his people who had kept Finnomia standing as an independent nation to the very last. He was a far greater man than I had been before my regression.

"......Is that so. I am honored."

Walking among the ranks of soldiers beside Lieutenant General Hannu, who was trying not to show his pleasure, I spotted a rather unusual piece of equipment.

"Skis."

"Ah. Yes."

Hannu answered with a slightly awkward smile.

"Quite a few soldiers get around on skis. Our terrain is so rugged and the snowfall so heavy that horses and vehicles simply aren't practical."

I picked up one of the ski planks. Running my hand along its smooth surface, I let the thought drop casually.

"I heard Finnomia has a special unit armed entirely with skis."

"......It isn't quite a unit armed with skis. It's a small-scale outfit, more along the lines of a reconnaissance patrol or advance scouts."

A faint edge of displeasure had crept into Hannu's voice.

Connecting a proper standing army to skis, a winter leisure activity, must have felt like an insult to the nation's and the military's dignity.

This was the crux of it: Finnomia had come to understand the true power of skis far too late.

"Lieutenant General Hannu. I pursue a military system suited to each country's terrain and circumstances, the method that best fits Finnomia's geography."

Before the regression, one reason they had been so badly beaten by Lobrus was the enemy's armored assault, yes, but more than anything it was that they had failed to fully exploit their own advantages.

I held the ski out toward him.

"In that sense, a ski special forces unit...... looks very promising to me."

Finnomia already had ski units in existence. But the military leadership had never put them at the forefront.

No money, no armored vehicles, not enough manpower, they had been squeezed out during the war as a desperate measure. No budget to buy military vehicles, so they strapped skis to the soldiers' feet and shoved them up to plug the line...... a guerrilla-scale small formation.

And because that unit had proven far more destructive than expected, Finnomia had managed to avoid total annexation by Lobrus.

"This country has many rugged mountain ranges where the snow doesn't melt even in summer."

Winter being as harsh as it was, the mana in the atmosphere itself had taken on the cold, and any area with even a slightly higher mana concentration was full of snow and ice even in the height of summer.

"......"

Hannu still hadn't grasped my intent and wore an expression somewhere between doubtful and displeased.

"Well, a deeper discussion of these special tactics can wait for later, with the full command staff."

Stubborn commanders who stick their chins out are always a headache. Getting them to pull it back in takes feeding them something concrete before any amount of persuasion.

"Also, I've brought a gift."

"......A gift, Sir?"

"Yes. It should reach the corps by tomorrow morning. For tonight......"

It had already been night when I arrived, and the Finnomian soldiers were still standing in formation on the parade ground.

They're going to freeze to death at this rate.

"Let's call it here for tonight."

* * *

Late that night.

Lieutenant General Hannu of the First Corps connected a call to Grand Marshal Wurse.

"Yes, Grand Marshal. Knight Maximilian has arrived."

Fifty years ago, Finnomia had been a country under Lobrus's rule.

But then the Red Revolution broke out inside Lobrus. In the chaos of Varmil's seizure of power, Finnomia had barely managed to win its independence.

Since then, Lobrus had been eyeing Finnomia hungrily, and Finnomia had watched their ambitions with equal wariness. Just as Balkania had invaded Mekerel, there was no knowing when that grim history might repeat itself here.

"Strangely enough, he was quite fluent in Nomian language."

The most basic form of respect, and the hardest to achieve.

"......Is that so. Just as I'd heard."

"Yes, Grand Marshal. He also expressed his admiration for you."

"Mm."

The Grand Marshal's short hum came through the receiver.

The Empire had shown them goodwill and supported Mekerel, that was true. But the Empire was just as fearsome and covetous a hegemon as Lobrus. It was not something to trust completely.

"That said, there were a few aspects that struck me as somewhat lacking in understanding."

"In what way?"

"He was advising something about massively expanding and creating ski units."

"......"

"Our terrain is certainly snowy and rough, but skis are a limited means, only usable in certain conditions, winter or the permanent snowfields in summer."

Hannu grumbled with a dissatisfied air. But Grand Marshal Wurse fell silent for a moment, as if turning something over in his mind.

"Maximilian. He is a nobleman from the very top of the imperial aristocracy."

Then, in his characteristically resonant voice, he spoke of Maximilian.

"A noble's noble. Many say he is a true aristocrat. A man like that never misspeaks, never throws out empty words without thought. Everything he says and does carries a sincere meaning."

In truth, Grand Marshal Wurse himself was a descendant of Finnomia's highest noble house, House Mansner. He held deeply aristocratic values, and toward Maximilian, whose thinking seemed on the surface to resemble his own, he had already been quietly nursing a degree of goodwill.

"Think more deeply about everything that knight says. He is not someone who dismisses or looks down on other nations."

"......Yes, Grand Marshal. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good work."

Click.

The line went dead.

"......"

Hannu said nothing, scratching the back of his neck. By the time he had finished, the first light of dawn was already breaking.

Beep, beep, beep!

A direct radio transmission came in out of nowhere.

He picked it up.

"What is it."

"Lieutenant General Hannu, sir. A cargo truck at the checkpoint says it's a gift sent by the imperial knight."

It was the voice of someone at the outer corps checkpoint, and it was fairly urgent.

"......A gift?"

A memory surfaced. Something Maximilian had said.

"I've brought a gift. It should reach the corps by tomorrow morning......"

Hannu hesitated for a moment, then ordered them to bring it through to headquarters. After that, he went out to the parade ground himself and waited for the gift to arrive.

"What sort of gift could it be......"

He was standing there in the predawn wind, lips pursing at the cold without meaning to, when,

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

In the distance, a convoy of trucks grinding through the snowstorm. Enormous shapes rolling in through the headquarters parade ground.

"......!"

Hannu stared in blank silence, his eyes going wide. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and the lips he'd been sticking out pulled themselves back in without a thought.

At the sight of the equipment slowly being revealed, something stirred in him as a soldier, something that made his mouth water.

"......Hey, hey! You there! Wake everyone up inside and get them out here!"

He quickly ordered the soldiers to rouse every officer they could find.