Distinguished figures from every nation arrived in the city one after another.
Over the past four years, widespread republican revolts had erupted across the continent, centered on its wealthiest cities. As a result, nearly twenty free cities had sprung up overnight.
The newly autonomous free cities, those that had tacitly supported the republican cause, and the lords whose personal sympathies lay with republican ideals—all seventy in total—dispatched ambassadors.
No faction ever sent a single ambassador alone. Each assembled a lavish delegation to exaggerate their own prestige.
The number of people here who could manage a bitter smile would, by default, be few.
"Ivar. Look at them."
I was sitting on the terrace of a temporarily borrowed mansion. Positioned at the very center of the city, it offered a clear view of the main avenue below. Right now, a delegation from the Northern Frank Free City Alliance was marching noisily down the street, blaring music.
"Those are the ones who took up arms claiming to secure the people's rightful freedoms. It seems the 'people' they speak of consists only of the wealthy."
"With all due respect, Your Grace—those without military power cannot obtain autonomy."
Ivar stood beside me in her maid's attire.
"A city's military power is determined by whether it has the funds to hire and maintain mercenaries. Autonomy for a city without money is a meaningless notion. It is only natural that the wealthy form the backbone of any city."
"Is that so…"
I fiddled with my pipe.
"In the end, only wealthy cities succeeded in their revolts. But tell me, Ivar—are the ones who truly need freedom not the poor?"
"I think differently."
The vampire girl who pledged her loyalty to me yet never hesitated to voice her own opinions spoke up.
"The destitute, who possess no property, have no permanent or fixed stake in their nation. Granting such people voting rights over the governance of a country defies all logic."
"That is a truly characteristic opinion of yours."
I chuckled softly.
Perhaps Ivar's argument reflected what most republicans currently believed. Granting citizens the right to vote. Establishing city councils. But giving every single citizen the right to vote was absurd.
The degree of each person's contribution to the city varied. The wealthy paid far more taxes than the poor. With that tax revenue, the city hired mercenaries. Thanks to its military, the city could protect its citizens.
The wealthy contributed more to defending the city, so it was only natural that they should exercise the right to vote. That was the logic. Voting rights were not granted to poor peasants, let alone slaves who paid not a single coin in taxes to the city — there was nothing to even discuss.
"Ivar, a foul stench of rot is drifting from somewhere. It is the smell of contradiction. Am I the only one in that procession who can detect the stench of decay and putridity?"
A mocking smile played on my lips.
"The person who needs a single meal most desperately is none other than the starving. Those already full have no need for food. Likewise, the person who needs freedom most in this world is the slave. And yet, how peculiar — the very people who cry out for the freedom of the populace turn around and say slaves have no need for freedom, nor should it be given to them."
"......"
Ivar lowered his chin and pondered for a moment.
"However, Your Majesty, if freedom were granted equally to those who have contributed nothing to the city — no, to those whose contributions are demonstrably negligible — would that not itself be unfair?"
"Many people labor under a misconception. It is not that they contribute nothing. It is that they are unable to contribute anything."
Say the wealthy possess a fortune of one thousand, and the poor possess a fortune of ten.
When danger befalls the city, the wealthy can willingly produce ten in special taxes. But the poor, even if the nation itself faces the threat of ruin, cannot produce ten in taxes. They can barely manage to offer one.
"......But the wealthy labored ceaselessly to multiply their fortune from one thousand to ten thousand."
Ivar countered after hearing my analogy.
"The poor, on the other hand, were capable of working harder but chose to waste their time in laziness and indolence. Of course, there are those born with crippled limbs, or those who wish to strive but cannot — such people should rightly be helped by relief houses."
Having lost every last one of his relatives in childhood and built the Demon Realm's largest trading company entirely through his own efforts, Ivar Lodbrok could speak with such conviction.
"Beyond that, the poverty of the poor stems almost entirely from indolence."
Ah.
There it was. On this point, Ivar diverged from Laura in a fundamental way.
Which meant the reason Laura loved me and the reason Ivar loved me were inevitably different as well.
It was a bit bitter, and without realizing it, my voice dropped.
"Ivar, if your life had been destined to end after a mere fifty years, you never would have founded the Kunkuska Trading Company. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes."
"You could succeed as you have because you were born a Vampire. But I want to ask you something. Did you choose to be born a Vampire?"
Ivar shook his head.
"Of course not."
"Let me ask again: did the rich choose to be born rich? Did slaves choose to be born slaves?"
"...No, they did not."
I let out a sigh and flicked the cigarette into the air.
The smoke drifted faintly across the pale winter sky, thin as cellophane.
"Ivar, isn't everything the same? Did I choose to become Dantalion? Did anyone choose to become lazy? Did anyone choose to become diligent?"
I never wanted any of it — I was dropped into this world and became the Demon Lord.
It was something I could say with absolute conviction, precisely because I was that kind of person.
"Our lives are cast into the world from the very beginning. Born without limbs, or born lazy — it's all the same, decided from the very start."
"...With all due respect, I cannot agree. People have free will."
I just smiled faintly.
Ivar, the reason you came to love me was never because of your own free will. I manipulated you. I deceived you. There is nothing in your feelings for me that could be called "free." Nothing but the illusion of freedom.
I have no intention of revealing that. Perhaps not ever.
"Well, we're politicians, not philosophers. Shall we discuss something more practical? You said it was unjust for the poor or slaves to cast votes in the city. But there is, in fact, one way to legitimately grant voting rights to all citizens."
Ivar tilted his head.
"What would that be?"
"Simple. War."
I shrugged my shoulders playfully.
"War breaks out, and the lower classes serve as militia. They give their lives to defend the city. The value of a life is surely comparable to a thousand in gold. So the more wars you start, the more equal citizens become."
"Start wars at random......"
Ivar sucked in a breath, apparently stunned.
"If true republicanism is to take root on the continent, it would need a war of that magnitude. The Crescent Alliance War alone falls far short. Not a war where thousands die, but one where tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, fall in droves."
"That's... a disaster. No one wants that kind of disaster."
I nodded my head.
This was something I could never tell Paimon. Paimon had become a republican precisely because he despised the Crescent Alliance War. To suggest deliberately starting a great war in order to build an equal society—he would be furious, calling it hypocrisy of the highest order.
Ivar stared at me with eyes full of shock.
"Surely not, Your Majesty. The Crescent Alliance War and the Puppet War were because of... that?"
"Haha."
I laughed.
"I was just making a point. If someone cries out for equality, it is only because they love humanity. One who loves humanity would never start wars. That would be self-contradictory."
"......"
"No one would actually do such a thing."
I said no more and gazed down at the plaza. It was winter, but the weather was not particularly cold, and many people had come out to watch the procession of envoys.
"But it's foolish. Putting on such a lavish procession is counterproductive. It may show off the city's prestige, but it cannot deliver a heartfelt impression to the people. If any truly outstanding figure among those attending this meeting were present, they would instead put on a modest procession."
With that, our conversation came to an end.
The representative delegations of each faction entered the city one by one over the course of half a month. On the day before the summit, there was one faction whose procession was strikingly impoverished compared to all the envoys who had arrived so far.
Typically, delegations consisted of anywhere from fifty to two hundred members. But this faction had mobilized barely ten people. There was nothing luxurious about their appearance either. They looked like slightly well-off farmers dressed in their best clothes — that was the level we were talking about.
The banner they carried bore a white eagle on a red field.
It was the national flag of the Habsburg Republic.
At the very front walked a silver-haired woman in military uniform.
The people gathered in the plaza initially mocked them, laughing at how impoverished a faction must be to field such a procession. Some citizens jeered in loud voices. But once it became known that the woman leading the procession was the Consul of the Habsburg Republic, a strange silence fell over the streets.
"Long live the Republic!"
Someone shouted it. That broke the floodgates.
The citizens greeted the Habsburg Republic's delegation with cheers. The applause did not stop until Elizabeth entered the Governor-General's residence. Even after she had disappeared from view, the citizens gathered in small groups to discuss the procession that had just taken place.
"......"
I watched the scene from the terrace, sipping wine.
The expression "Long live the Republic" was curiously fitting. It could refer to the Habsburg Republic, and it could refer to the Batavia Republic as well. That was probably why the citizens could respond to it so freely. In other words, it was highly likely a planted shill that Elizabeth had deliberately seeded.
"What an absurd woman."
I couldn't help but let out a bitter smile.
The summit proceeded smoothly on its first day.
It was more of a meet-and-greet, really. The continent's power brokers gathered in the ballroom, laughing and chatting. I attended with Saint Longwy as my partner.
Saint Longwy was not exactly pleased about it.
"To think I'd be attending a ball with you......"
"It's also for the sake of Bretagne. Please bear with it."
"I know that!"
Longwei ground her teeth.
"There's no need to spell it all out. Ah, Pallas Athena, please do not forgive your humble servant……."
Before stepping out of the carriage, she offered a prayer to the goddess in a tone of utter despair. Having stayed together in the manor for a few days, I'd come to realize that her way of thinking wasn't exactly that of a normal human, either.
When we appeared at the ballroom, the reaction was quite intense. The Demon Lord and the Saint had arrived as partners. It was an impossible combination laid out before their very eyes, enough to make anyone question what they were seeing.
People crowded around, asking indirect questions about what was going on. Longwei, playing the part of the Saint to perfection, answered with a flawless smile.
"I heard that this event makes no distinction between humans and demons. For the sake of peace between our races, I personally invited Court Count Dantalion to accompany me. Thanks to his gracious acceptance, I was able to grace this occasion with my presence."
Naturally, the crowd showered praises upon the Saint's blessed devotion.
I handled the incoming crowd alongside the Saint, deflecting their attention here and there. It was obvious, but I was looking for Elizabeth.
Just then, as my gaze swept toward the far end of the ballroom, one pair of eyes met mine as if drawn by an invisible pull.
A silver-haired woman stood there, holding a glass in one hand.