I proposed my plan the moment the emperor finished his lengthy address.
"There is no need to hesitate. All forces — join the pursuit."
The imperial capital had fallen overnight. For the enemy, it was a speed they could never have anticipated. We had to exploit this element of surprise to the fullest.
"The Bretagne forces stripped Parisio Room of every last scrap of food. That means plenty of supply wagons. As long as they're stuck moving with those wagons, even the mighty Bretagne army won't get far."
In this war, Gamigin's wyvern unit hadn't seen a single battle. Hundreds of wyverns had all been used as scouts — asymmetric warfare, in other words. They had not lost track of the Bretagne army's retreat route.
"According to our scouts, the enemy has barely managed a hundred li from the capital. We will give chase now and execute Demon Lord Agares. And with our own hands, we will end this war."
I smiled faintly. The Demon Lords, seething with excitement, roared their approval. My proposal passed unanimously.
Perhaps an hour. Before the march could begin, we needed to reorganize the army's formations.
With over twenty-five thousand troops, even marching was a logistical nightmare. We transitioned from siege formations to forced-march columns. As commanders scurried about reorganizing their units, I had something else to attend to.
Specifically, meeting with Viscount de Bercy.
Viscount de Bercy had been among the surrender delegation. It seemed he'd been running around as one of the militia representatives the night before. I burst out of the tent wearing my mask, in a frantic rush. Daisy quietly followed behind me.
"Your Honor."
"...Father Jean Bollet."
Viscount de Bercy slowly turned his head. His face was painted with fatigue — perhaps from fighting the remaining Bretagne forces in the city all night. He spoke coldly.
"What do you want?"
"I was quite worried last night. I'm relieved to see you weren't harmed by any foreign blade."
Viscount de Bercy's expression grew even colder.
"...Relieved? Are you telling me you're relieved that I don't have a single wound on my body right now?"
"Indeed, Your Honor. Not just you — I prayed that the entire patriotic front of Frank remained unharmed."
That was when Viscount de Bercy suddenly seized me by the collar. Having lived a rough life as the lord of a remote village for decades, the viscount's grip was iron. Without flinching, I stared him down. Viscount de Bercy's face was twisted in rage like a demon.
"A butcher who slaughtered innocent lives dares to play the hypocrite...!"
"..."
"I believed you were a devout priest. No — before that, I thought you were a decent human being. That's why I cooperated with you... Give me an explanation, Jean Bollet! Why did you slaughter people who had committed no crime!"
Viscount de Bercy looked ready to tear my throat out on the spot. Only then did I realize the man before me wasn't merely haggard from last night's fatigue.
"Why! Those people who suffered hunger and misery simply because they had the misfortune of being born in this country, simply because they encountered the wrong emperor... Why did you have to be the one to kill them!"
Viscount de Bercy spat out a blood-tinged voice.
A people suffering under war. Comrades purged by Henrietta. And on top of that, the great massacre carried out beyond the city walls. Disaster after disaster, too heavy for any single human to bear, had followed in rapid succession.
"If you cannot answer, then your life — I will take it myself!"
Viscount de Bercy must have been on the verge of collapse right now. I could sense he was holding on through sheer stubbornness and willpower — a sense of duty to his nation and his people, compounded by guilt over his failure to save them. And perhaps a feeling of betrayal toward me as well.
I hesitated for a moment. Would it be acceptable to die at this man's hands?
Viscount de Bercy had never done me any harm. He had never threatened my life or safety, and he never would. And yet I had exploited his trust. This man undoubtedly had every right to be furious with me.
But still. Perhaps I should test him.
"It was for the sake of Frank, Your Honor."
"For the sake of Frank...?"
"Yes. For Frank's future. Above all, for the pride of its people."
I answered calmly. The fist gripping my collar tightened further. My breathing was slightly restricted, but this was tolerable — I could endure it well enough.
"Don't you dare spout sophistry! The very people you're talking about are dead! Don't tell me you're going to argue that the massacre was decided by the military's upper echelons and you had no part in it... You were in a position to negotiate with us on your own. A bystander's excuses won't be accepted!"
"Of course."
I raised the corners of my mouth.
"I have no intention of claiming to be a bystander. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am the one who proposed the massacre — I, Jean Bollet."
"...!"
Viscount de Bercy threw a punch. It struck me square in the cheek. In that instant, as my head turned, my eyes met Daisy's. She had already half-drawn a dagger from her robes. Daisy had a Slave Brand inscribed on her that compelled her to eliminate anyone who threatened me. That must have been why.
Don't move. I said with my eyes. Daisy's hand froze. She had been about to draw the dagger fully, but instead she stared at me blankly. Are you really all right? she was silently asking. Oh, yes. I was perfectly fine.
The exchange of glances lasted only a heartbeat. I turned my head and looked at the viscount again.
"Feel better after that? Good. Settling matters through violence is to my taste as well. By all means, keep hitting me until your heart is at ease."
"You..."
"But I'm disappointed, Your Honor. Did you truly not grasp my intention? Or are you merely pretending not to know?"
Viscount de Bercy's pupils wavered, if only slightly. Indeed... He had his suspicions, but couldn't be certain — or perhaps simply didn't want to believe it. That was where he stood.
"If the massacre had never occurred, the citizens of Parisio Room would never have been gripped by unnecessary terror. They would have quietly accepted the siege."
And eventually, the city would have fallen.
"The ones who would have taken the city then would have been the Habsburg Empire and the Batavia Republic. The citizens of Parisio Room would have played no role whatsoever. They would have been thoroughly excluded from any position of agency."
"..."
"Parisio Room would have been occupied by foreign forces once again. The only difference would be that the Bretagne soldiers were replaced by Habsburg and Batavia troops. Foreign dominion would persist. The Frankish people could forget about autonomy and independence."
Viscount de Bercy fell silent. Rage still simmered, but he was beginning to understand. That was the feeling.
Good. Even in this psychologically cornered state, he still had the capacity to recognize the situation. That was what mattered. By my standards, Viscount de Bercy barely passed.
"What kind of future awaits the Frankish people? At best, a puppet government under foreign control. That's all."
"That is..."
"Allow me to continue. I'm not finished."
I fixed Viscount de Bercy with a hard stare. The ferocity he'd had moments ago had already drained from the man before me. He couldn't refute my words.
"Falling to a puppet government would actually be the best-case scenario. Our army is a coalition jointly formed by Habsburg and Batavia. The two nations hold completely opposing ideologies... Do you understand? Habsburg will back the royalist faction, and Batavia will back the republican faction — each installing their own puppet."
The Batavia Republic's forces had made a decisive contribution to seizing the granary. They couldn't be ignored. The Habsburg Empire — that is, our Demon Lord army — had to acknowledge the Republic's merits.
I smiled wryly.
"Four years ago, Frank was split between the emperor's faction and the empress dowager's faction. Now it will fracture once again into two powers. Becoming puppets of the Empire and the Republic, the two sides will spill each other's blood... Just when it seemed Frank had freed itself from the foreign power of Bretagne, now comes division. If it weren't so tragic, it'd be comedy."
Viscount de Bercy's shoulders began to tremble. Without his noticing, the grip on my collar had gone slack. I pressed on relentlessly.
"How much more blood will be spilled? It's beyond my imagination..."
"..."
"Your Honor. Do you truly believe the Frankish people can maintain their pride in such a situation?"
Having finally seized an opportunity, they would be torn apart by the Empire and the Republic, descending into civil strife. Killing their own kind over and over, the day of their ruin would surely come. What is Frank even for? What on earth are they sacrificing their lives to the nation for?
Whatever patriotism existed for Frank would evaporate completely. The more fiercely ideologies burned and clashed, the more all that remained in their wake was a grey ash of ennui. Disgust, despair — they would become dogs who had lost their pride.
"A dog that has lost its pride will obey whoever feeds it. Both the royalists and the republicans will collapse, and the people will yearn for nothing but a strong, authoritarian leader. Viscount de Bercy. This is the dawn of tyranny."
"No. That can't be..."
"Can you say that with absolute certainty?"
My gaze hardened. This was no empty rhetoric. In this world too, there had been an ancient nation called the Republic in the distant past. Its end had come when a despot — a tyrant — emerged, and the nation's very ideology collapsed. Viscount de Bercy, a nobleman, would have learned this in his history lessons. He could not deny it.
I spoke with deliberate cheerfulness.
"Everything you said is correct. I did slaughter humans. But thanks to that, Parisio Room kept its pride."
"..."
"Not because of a foreign power — they reclaimed the city with their own hands. The Habsburg emperor didn't occupy the city either. Between the scenario where the massacre occurred and the one where it didn't — which do you think brought about a more desirable future?"
Viscount de Bercy could not answer. I asked one final question.
"Will you condemn me for the massacre I committed?"
"..."
The viscount lowered his head. So that's how it was. You cannot answer, can you...
I tapped the viscount's hand. It had no strength. It slid off my collar on its own. I lightly smoothed my collar. Fortunately, it hadn't wrinkled as badly as I'd expected.
"Viscount. We will now pursue the Bretagne forces. Take your private guard and join us."
"Why should I..."
"Because we are going to kill the Emperor of Frank."
Viscount de Bercy raised his head weakly. Compared to just minutes ago, his face seemed to have aged twenty years.
"His Majesty the Emperor...?"
"He started a civil war, let himself be manipulated by foreign rulers at will, and in the end abandoned the capital and fled. No one recognizes Henri III as emperor any longer. An emperor who does nothing but cause problems — the sooner he's gone, the better for Frank."
Did he find this blasphemous? Viscount de Bercy was trembling.
"Do you perhaps find this blasphemous? Don't worry. If you cannot condemn me, then you're just as much an accomplice."
I whispered gently.
"Your Honor. A fate like Marshal Tavannes's does not befit you. Spend your life tormented for the sake of the Frankish people."
I left behind instructions to return with his personal guard in thirty minutes, and departed. Viscount de Bercy neither detained me nor tried to stop me.
Dawn was breaking over Parisio Room.
"My dear generals."
Laura raised her wine glass high. The night of madness and slaughter had passed, and the cool morning sun now shone down. In the dawn's glassy light, the wine glasses gleamed coldly. Following Laura, thirty Demon Lords raised their glasses high.
"To victory."
"To victory!"
Everyone drained their wine in a single gulp. Then they smashed their empty glasses on the ground. Dozens of glasses shattered with a brilliant crash.
The ten thousand Batavia Republic troops would remain in the rear to guard the granary. This contained a political calculation — allowing the republican faction to smoothly take control of the Parisio Room area. The prisoners, little more than a burden for the time being, were also locked away in the fortress.
The remaining twenty-five thousand — the Demon Lord army — immediately set off in pursuit.
First Corps Commander: former rank 5, Marbas.
Second Corps Commander: former rank 3, Vassago.
Third Corps Commander: former rank 8, Barbatos.
Fourth Corps Commander: former rank 9, Paimon.
Deputy Commander: Laura de Farnese.
Chief of Staff: former rank 71, Dantalion.
The powers who ruled the continent, the heroes who reigned as masters of ten thousand demons, heroes who had never before gathered under a single banner — all had become mighty allies, marching forward as one.
The end of the war was approaching.