Semi-Coercive Imperialist

The annex of Julius von Arensburg.

On any other day, the place would have been bustling with the flattery of his inner circle and lavish banquets. Now, it was steeped in a solemnity so heavy that even breathing felt difficult.

“……There’s no turning this back.”

This incident. The bombing that Reutern II had suffered.

Julius and his legion of loyal subordinates had burned through day and night, combing through every shred of evidence and circumstance from the scene, and the conclusion they reached was singular.

‘It was a self-orchestrated attack by Reutern II to convince his father.’

Julius, too, knew the temperament of Reutern I better than anyone, having spent long years as his political rival. Reutern I was by no means the sort of man who would recklessly draw blood without justification or without something to gain.

A wily old fox who compromised at the right time and pocketed his gains.

Because Julius had trusted that much, he too had tried to stay within reasonable bounds. All he had to do was lie low for a few years, quiet as a mouse.

But he had never imagined some madman would appear and flip the whole board over like this.

Thanks to that, the notion of an ‘elegant feud between royals’ had become a joke.

“So he’d been hiding that much venom all this time.”

There was no reason for Reutern II to push them to the very edge of a cliff. As fellow members of the royal bloodline, there was no reason to press ahead with their expulsion while shouldering such risks.

It had been far too fatal a misjudgment.

The vulnerability of a fallen royal house, parasitically clinging to the Imperial Palace.

In the past, the royals of conquered nations had been shuffled around like chess pieces under the meticulous calculations of the Emperor.

At times they served as a sword to check overgrown founding meritocrats, at times as a shield to suppress the grievances of newly risen nobles, and at other times as mere ornaments to flaunt the generosity of the Imperial House.

Each time, the royals had survived by reinventing their conduct with servile flexibility, and after centuries, they had finally managed to establish their own solid factions and ecosystem within the Imperial Palace.

However, in the end, all of it amounted to nothing more than carving up power.

Every night, a delicious pie was delivered from the Imperial House. The royal nobles of to⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠day had reached a tacit agreement to divide that pie peacefully in fair proportions.

Yet, hiding among them had been one fiendish bastard.

A viper who was never satisfied with his single slice of pie, who perfectly concealed his pitch-black greed and his designs on what belonged to others, and who had spent over a decade sharpening his blade while playing the fool, the half-wit.

Reutern II.

That man had resolved to devour the entire pie by cutting off his competitors’ breath.

“He want⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠s war.”

Julius murmured in a low voice. His fury had peaked, yet his mind had settled into an eerie calm.

‘To survive─ we may have no choice but to tear out their throats first.’

…….

The Imperial Hospital operated by the Bertem Family, where Reutern II was admitted.

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

Using a hospital visit as an excuse, I went to his private room. Instead of some trivial flower basket or health tonic, I gave him a rare gemstone suited to his tastes.

“W-Wow, what’s this?”

“A token of my wishes for your s⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠wift recovery.”

Reutern’s face went slack with awe at the jewel’s radiance. His eyes sparkled as he lifted his head.

“Honestly……Max, the more time passes, the more I regret all those days I misunderstood you!”

I decided not to ask what exactly he had misunderstood.

It would only sour my mood.

“But what on earth happened? I think I lost a bit of my memory right after the explosion that day. They said a bomb went off under my car?”

“Yes. Please take care of yourself. The Imperial Palace isn’t what it used to be.”

I offered the advice in a deliberately concerned tone.

“Right. Oh, and I heard I survived because of that cube you gave me? Max, seriously, thank you.”

Reutern was strangely cheerful for someone who had just brushed with death.

A psychopath with little sense of fear. It was the same quality Reutern had shown before my regression, when he drove hundreds of thousands of soldiers to their deaths on the battlefield and still, in the end, returned to the front as a commander.

Only now did his past behavior make sense.

“But who the hell is the gutsy asshole who came after me? Got anyone in mind? This hurts like hell. It still fucking hurts!”

This man wasn’t scared. He was angry.

“When they catch that son of a bitch, I’m gonna kill him.”

A murderous glint settled in Reutern’s eyes.

“And I won’t even kill him normally. I’ll literally tear him limb from limb! Rip off every last bit of skin and flesh!”

“Vigilante justice like this is illegal, Lord Reutern.”

“What do…… Really? Then, how’s the investigation going?”

“It’s an ongoing investigation, so I can’t share the details.”

“I’m the victim here?”

Reutern furrowed his brow.

“You can’t tell even the victim?”

His tone turned considerably cold.

“…….”

I quietly surveyed the interior of the room. Shaken by the terror attack on his son, Reutern I was now gripped by extreme paranoia. There had to be listening devices hidden in here.

“It’s for your safety.”

“Aw, come on, just tell me secretly. You look like there’s been some progress?”

My expression.

Of course I had made it look that way on purpose.

“……Very well. I’ll tell only you.”

I gave a small, deliberate cough.

“The bomb’s origin is a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“Yes. A Ghost Bomb.”

I lowered my voice as I sat down in the chair beside his bed.

“The metal composition, alloy ratios, the purity of the detonation Mana Stone, the structure of the fuse. Every component points to a bomb assembled with extreme precision. It’s clearly the work of a highly skilled technician, but when you trace the parts back to their source…… every trail is severed, as if a ghost made it.”

“Huh…… How peculiar. Why is that?”

“Hard to say. Perhaps materials from a factory that’s already been demolished were used, or components that don’t exist on any official record. There are many possibilities. It is difficult to pinpoint.”

First condition, a factory that had already been shut down.

Second condition, something that did not exist on paper.

The answer was the Gigantes.

If Reutern I was listening in, no one other than Julius would even cross his mind.

“……Wow. Seriously, thank you, Max. If it weren’t for the cube you gave me, I’d be dust by now. Whoever that fucking son of a bitch is, just wait till they’re caught.”

Reutern trembled with rage.

I lowered my voice.

“However, Lord Reutern. I intend to focus solely on the case. I have no interest in the internal affairs of the Imperial Palace, nor in politics.”

From here on, I would leave them to wage their shadow war amongst themselves.

“Huh?”

“Hunting down the traitors who embezzled Gigantes weaponry is something I was duty-bound to do as a knight, separate from your request.”

“……What are you talking about?”

“I’m referring to what you mentioned at the restaurant that time.”

I deliberately tangled my words, conscious of his father Reutern listening from somewhere.

“Ah~ that. Right. Of course that had to be done. Absolutely. Can’t just leave those rats running around disrupting the Empire’s order.”

Reutern II still seemed oblivious to what had transpired because of his signature.

I stared at Reutern in silence.

“Lord Reutern.”

“What?”

I wanted to punch that face of his, tilting in fake innocence.

“How high do you want to climb in this Empire?”

“……How high?”

Reutern’s expression stiffened for a moment.

“Yes.”

Even now, Reutern still had plenty of value to exploit.

If only for his stupidity, and the royal power lurking behind it.

“……So you’ve figured it out, Max?”

Based on his future, I knew he harbored ambition.

“What I want is to become a commander.”

As expected, Reutern was dreaming of the day he would herd hundreds of thousands of Imperial soldiers to their doom.

“How’d you know?”

Reutern’s face took on a strangely earnest expression.

I offered a faint smile.

“That sort of aura has always come from you, Lord Reutern.”

I didn’t want to say something like this to him, but I swallowed back the revulsion. Thinking of it as tempering myself.

In the not-so-distant future, Reutern could become my weapon for setting the Imperial Palace ablaze.

“The kind of rare brilliance that only radiates from someone who looks far into the future and quietly builds their strength, while perfectly concealing their true ambitions…… that is what I mean.”

Reutern paused at my overblown flattery. Too much? I was a bit nervous myself, but.

“Heh heh. You’re sharp. I’m a little surprised. That is the kind of man I am, though.”

Before long, he tilted his chin up with an arrogant air.

I forced down the wave of nausea rising inside me.

“Yes. That is correct, Lord Reutern.”

From now on, the Imperial Palace, no.

The world will think of you as it pleases.

But for someone like you, who craves fame and authority, it won’t be an entirely unwelcome thing.

* * *

The lounge of Prozen National University, the preeminent institution of the western great power, the Republic of Prozen.

Professor Jean Pierre had received news from Zerpha.

The fall of Jeronika Mine. The regular army’s coup had been suppressed, and the Republican Faction’s front lines had been reversed by the fierce counterattack of the Empire’s Durkon Legion.

In the process, however, Jeronika had been reduced to rubble and ash. A storied vein that had shouldered a vast share of Zerpha’s national Mana Stone production had been ground to dust.

But that was only the first piece of news.

The second was the reconstruction of Jeronika Mine. Mobilizing the manpower of the Durkon Legion and droves of Republican Faction prisoners, the debris had been cleared in no time, and Imperial capital had been poured in to install facilities more modern than before.

From the start, Jeronika was not a place that could be written off as completely destroyed, the way the Gigantes had been. The Empire’s course of action had been a foreseeable step, to some extent.

But…….

In Jean Pierre’s assessment, the sovereignty and lifespan of the nation called Zerpha had come to an end with this.

“Full-scale exploitation is about to begin.”

Jean Pierre had all but made up his mind. The faces of the professors assembled in the lounge, each representing their respective fields of humanities, sociology, economics, and military studies, were equally weighed down with gravity.

They exhaled acrid cigarette smoke and agonized over the future of the continent.

“Mine reconstruction. A perfectly convenient pretext. The best possible excuse for legally devouring another nation’s core has fallen right into the Empire’s lap.”

Laurent, the economics professor, clicked his tongue.

“The picture going forward is obvious. The Empire will inflate the debts incurred under the pretexts of mine reconstruction costs and military support by tens, hundreds of times over, and bill the Zerpha royal house for it. Then, under the guise of repaying the debt, they’ll monopolize and strip Jeronika’s Mana Stones.”

Zerpha would be reduced to an empty shell, forever relegated to the status of the Empire’s economic colony.

“Are there no variables?”

At sociology professor William’s question, all eyes naturally converged on Jean Pierre.

He had recently come to be regarded as a special intellect of Prozen, a supernova shining in the academic world.

Indeed, his works 「History Originating from Individuals」 and 「Convergence of Trajectories」 had accurately predicted numerous geopolitical developments across the continent, and most recently, 「The Form of Aran」, an essay vividly describing his firsthand encounter with Maximilian in the Empire, had generated enormous resonance not only in Prozen’s academic circles but among the general public as well.

‘An Imperial noble who speaks Prozen more elegantly than the natives themselves. His neat, fastidious demeanor, which either runs counter to or perfectly aligns with everything he has ever done.’

—Excerpt from Jean Pierre’s essay, 「The Form of Aran」.

“A variable? Hardly.”

Jean Pierre gave a bitter smile.

“Give us something, Jean. You’re practically a prophet.”

“It’s not me. It’s people who read my books and interpreted them however they pleased.”

“Even so.”

Just as the name Maximilian was crossing the continent, the name Jean Pierre, too, was quietly spreading across Prozen.

“Well. The probability is very low, but.”

Jean Pierre propped his chin on his fingers and picked up a pen.

“If Crown Prince Alonso managed to pull off some kind of miraculous, ‘proper’ negotiation against the Empire, things could change. But the odds of that timid Crown Prince seizing the initiative against those wolves of the Empire are exceedingly slim.”

If Cr⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠own Prince Alonso had possessed any backbone to begin with, he would never have endorsed the Imperial army’s plan to reduce Jeronika Mine, the very heart of the royal house, to ashes.

“Do any of you know who was in charge of this operation?”

At that, economics professor Laurent let out a wry chuckle.

“Anyone who’s sat through Professor Jean Pierre’s lectures would know. A person’s course of action always leaves traces, like fingerprints.”

True to that maxim, a person’s methods leave fingerprints. And there was perhaps no one whose fingerprints were more distinct than this man’s.

“Exactly. Alonso couldn’t seize the initiative against him if his life depended on it.”

“That monster again?”

The Beautiful Devil.

The Idol of Aran.

The Monster of Ebenholtz.

He had many epithets. And lately, they kept multiplying.

Likely because of his singularly distinctive character.

“Some people simply attract more attention than others, even when doing the same thing.”

Possessing the face humanity loved most, yet committing the acts most harmful to humanity. That would certainly do it.

Sociology professor William bit down on his cigarette.

“You’re the one who planted the fantasy. After that essay, even I got curious. About that knight’s face.”

“And I’ve been regretting it.”

Jean Pierre had never written a dishonest word in his life, but he had only recently come to realize that sometimes the truth needed to be kept hidden.

“Through this civil war, Maximilian has completely swallowed Zerpha. He judged that seating the incompetent, dependent Royalist Faction on the throne would be far more advantageous for the Empire than dealing with an unruly Republican Faction. And in practice, his judgment proved exactly right.”

Zerpha was a corridor for war. Occupying it would allow the Empire to freely project its military forces through Zerpha’s rugged mountain ranges and highways leading west, as easily as moving through their own backyard.

“In other words, a single individual──”

Jean Pierre picked up his fountain pen to organize his lecture materials.

“Extended a civil war that should have ended with a Republican Faction victory.”

Scratch, scratch.

The surrounding professors watched as he scrawled across the page.

“And now, he seems likely to reverse even the winners and losers of that civil war.”

Jean Pierre suddenly raised his head and gazed into empty space.

“However.”

A deep sorrow seeped into his voice.

“If the Royali⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠sts win the civil war…… Zerpha will be unable to escape an even harsher, more wretched cycle of exploitation.”

That was the essence of imperialism,

and the dynamic between nations that the Empire championed.

“Because even the refinement of the knight named Maximilian ultimately originates from imperialism.”