In winter, armies don't move.
Humans may have no need for hibernation, but the calculus changes when you limit it to armies. Armies generally enter winter quarters in November. They begin to stir again in March at the earliest, April at the slowest.
Monster soldiers, however, can take to the field starting in February. Monsters are more resilient to the cold than humans. Simple arithmetic tells you that the Demon Lord's army can act a full one to two months "earlier" than the human forces.
The timing of the Demon Lord's army's movements is fixed. Late winter around February. April, when humans are busy harvesting the crops they painstakingly protected all winter. And autumn, when they're busy gathering in the crops they grew all summer.
They pick the precise moments when humans are terribly busy or at their most vulnerable — and strike.
This has been repeated for a full three thousand years. No wonder humanity has no choice but to hate demonkind.
It was to transcend that hatred and build a society that Paimon made her resolution. To everyone else, she must have looked like nothing more than a madwoman. The moment real power is granted to a madwoman, she ceases to be a madwoman and becomes a monster. A monster of history…
I first rushed to hold a "victory celebration event."
Under the pretext of toasting our victory over Bretagne, I threw a party. Ambassadors from every nation were invited. The purpose was simple.
Before the demons could be mistaken for republicans, we would meet with the royalists first!
The invitations bore the signature of Rudolf von Habsburg. Officially, it was the Emperor who extended the invitation. Of course, no fool failed to sense that this was in reality a "gesture of goodwill" offered diplomatically by the Demon Lord's army.
The human kings dispatched envoys as though they had been waiting for it.
The party proceeded splendidly.
"Your Majesty. Our congratulations."
"The great name of Habsburg reverbes through the world, and none can fail to marvel at Your Majesty's magnificent victory."
Envoys from every nation visited and lined up before Emperor Rudolf, heaping praise thick with flattery. Among them, amusingly, was also an emissary of the Habsburg Republic. This man occasionally wore a bitter smile, seeming to sense the irony in the phrase "the great name of Habsburg."
I stood to either side of the Emperor together with Barbatos.
"Haaaah."
Barbatos covered his mouth with his hand and let out a long yawn. Barbatos was the sort who found empty pomp and ceremony the most tedious thing in the world. Though it had been my proposal to hold the party, attending an affair like this was surely not what he would have wanted.
"......"
"......"
To Barbatos, it was probably just a yawn born of sheer boredom — but the effect was considerable.
The faces of the envoys stiffened. The air turned cold.
Here they were, being received by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of ten thousand people, and a mere subject had the audacity to yawn as if to say "Well then." Even if Barbatos was the Empire's Grand Magister and Regent, and its de facto usurper, it was still a shocking breach of etiquette.
I frowned.
"Grand Magister. What kind of discourteous behavior is this in front of His August Imperial Majesty?"
"Ah, yes. My apologies, Your Majesty."
Barbatos meekly admitted his fault.
"I have been overworked with the Empire's affairs and allowed myself a momentary lapse. Please forgive me."
"I forgive you. No one knows better than I how tireless the Grand Magister has been in his devotion to the Empire."
Emperor Rudolf readily accepted the apology.
The envoys' gazes quietly lit up. It must have made quite an impression on them.
The Emperor — whom they had considered nothing more than a puppet — was receiving at least a modicum of respect. These were the Demon Lords who boasted that none in the world could stand against them. And they addressed a human with the respectful form of address, "Your Majesty."
The envoys had almost certainly been given orders along the lines of, "Go find out whether the Demon Lords truly intend to establish diplomatic relations with us humans in good faith." In response, we had demonstrated an attitude that acknowledged the authority of a human sovereign.
It goes without saying, but diplomacy begins with recognizing the other party's authority. This audience had gotten off to a good start.
The envoys, too, sounded noticeably more animated than before. Their flattery grew longer, and their vocabulary more varied.
At last, it was the turn of the Habsburg Republic's envoy.
"Your Majesty. On behalf of the Consul of the Habsburg Republic, I pay tribute to the Empire's wondrous achievements. The victory Your Majesty has won is not merely a cause for celebration for Your Majesty and the Empire alone — in establishing the rightful sovereign of a nation, it is truly a victory for righteousness itself. Our Consul has always held in admiration Your Majesty, the true sovereign of the Empire."
The envoys from the other nations wore subtle expressions on their faces. It was, indeed, a rather subtle form of praise.
Unlike the other envoys, who had used the term "Habsburg," this one had said "Empire." Hidden behind this was a clear implication: the true heirs of Habsburg were not the Empire, but the Republic itself.
The phrase "the rightful sovereign of a nation" also nagged at me. As everyone knew, Barbatos currently served as Regent in the Empire, wielding the Emperor's sovereignty at will.
And yet, in a situation like this, to call the Emperor "the rightful sovereign"? Misinterpreted, it could sound like a subtle jab at Barbatos the Regent—and a mockery of Imperial authority that had already fallen to the ground.
Perhaps that was exactly what they had intended. The nerve of them.
But in my view, the scheme was far too transparent.
"Oh! My dear sister has sent her congratulations!"
Emperor Rudolf's face brightened with genuine delight. His tone was markedly different from how he had addressed the other envoys.
"An envoy from our brother nation—what was a brother's celebration now becomes a celebration for two siblings, it seems. Tell me, is my sister spending her days in peace and good health, as the gods have granted?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
The Republic's envoy answered. He could not entirely hide a trace of bewilderment from his face.
"It is all thanks to Your Majesty's affectionate concern."
"Heh heh. What have I done to be of any help to her? Élise has been doing everything on her own since she was a child."
Rudolf had all but discarded the Emperor's mask, speaking as a plain human being. With the host of the gathering speaking so warmly, the atmosphere around them grew noticeably softer.
"Looking back now, I believe the days when Élise and I would race through the palace together were the most radiant times of my life. The gods granted our youth a particularly gentle and tender melody—every single day was like a pastoral poem for us two siblings."
Rudolf gazed into the distance with wistful eyes.
"Of course, that beauty was perhaps less truly beautiful than it was beauty adorned with a certain ignorance—and a certain foolishness—that naturally comes with youth. But I confess to you all, even that ignorance and foolishness are now something I look back on with fondness and longing..."
"..."
The Republic's envoy licked his lips, unsure of how to respond.
I held back a laugh threatening to burst out of me.
That was an outright lie.
The beautiful memories between siblings Rudolf and Elisabeth? As if such a thing could exist. Rudolf—the man who was now a corpse being puppeteered in real time by Barbatos—had spent his waking days seriously plotting how to rape his own sisters.
But the envoys from foreign nations didn't know the inside story.
"Your Majesty, despite sitting at the apex of ten thousand souls, you have not forgotten affection—the future of the Empire is truly bright!"
"The sages of old once said that those who forget their childhood are given to hypocrisy, while those who remember are graced with wisdom and compassion. That Your Majesty feels the sting of regret is an unavoidable loss for a sovereign, but is it not a tremendous blessing for the Empire as a whole?"
The envoys chimed in unison, praising the human side of Rudolf. The momentum made it seem as though now was their moment. True enough, each nation had handpicked their finest to send as representatives. Not a single one among them was anything less than silver-tongued.
"Indeed so. Please, do not trouble yourself overly, Your Majesty."
Only the envoy of the Republic responded in a notably listless tone. Compared to the others, the color in his voice was conspicuously faint—no doubt because he knew what kind of scum Rudolf truly was.
My apologies, but our turn isn't over just yet.
"I am grateful that you seek to console me."
Emperor Rudolf let a bittersweet smile slip across his face.
"However, just as with childhood, there are things in our lives that can never be undone. Elisabeth and I both tried to do everything on our own. Neither of us would yield a single inch to the other. We were far too young..."
"..."
"All it would have taken was stepping back a little, but we couldn't manage even that. As a result, the glorious House of Habsburg has been split in two, branching into separate lines. A quarrel between a young brother and sister brought about the severance of a nation. How could I not be haunted by regret?"
"...!"
The Republic's envoy's eyes went wide.
This was a masterful diplomatic maneuver. Emperor Rudolf had just defined the reason for Habsburg's split as nothing more than "a simple sibling squabble."
The Habsburg Republic had been founded under the banner of justice—claiming that they alone were the true Habsburg line and that their establishment was for the welfare of the people. A petty personal matter like a sibling fight had nothing to do with that narrative.
Emperor Rudolf had just swept that narrative aside, declaring that the Republic was not founded on any grand principle of justice but sprang from a mere power struggle between a brother and sister. In the Republic envoy's position, he would have been justified in thinking, "What utter nonsense!"
The arrangement of his words was cunning, too.
At first glance, it sounded like a confession that both the brother and sister were at fault and things simply ended up this way. But the impression it actually conveyed was something else entirely.
'Elisabeth had always been able to do everything by herself from a young age' — he placed that seemingly meaningless remark first. Then he added, 'Neither side would yield even an inch to the other.' The way it was worded, it felt as though Elisabeth's domineering personality had been the cause of the problem.
Sure enough.
"Oh, Your Majesty. Please, set your worries aside. Blood is thicker than water, after all."
" someday, Habsburg shall once again rally beneath its glorious banner."
The envoys began showering Rudolf with favorable statements.
"......"
The Republic envoy's face had turned ashen. The situation was dire. If this continued, the Habsburg Republic's 'independence' would be treated as nothing more than a 'cadet branch' on the official diplomatic stage. He had to prevent that outcome at all costs, even if it meant being rude to the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, however—"
"Your Majesty."
The moment the envoy opened his mouth, I interjected. The Emperor turned his gaze toward me, and naturally, all eyes in the room followed.
"The welcoming ceremony has been prepared, has it not? Today is a joyous occasion in which we receive the congratulations of the rulers of many nations. Might it not be fitting for us all to forget our worries and concerns on such a day?"
"Oh, Court Count Dantalion. You speak wisely."
Rudolf smiled.
Court Count was the title I had recently been granted. In the Empire, it ranked just below Duke and Margrave. Since Barbatos held the titles of Duke of Austerlitz and Margrave of Rosenburg, the position of Court Count was quite fitting for me, as the chief strategist of the Plains Faction.
"I brought up too somber a topic on such a fine day. To make amends for this discourtesy, we ought to provide the envoys with a delightful banquet. Come, Court Count. Escort the envoys to the banquet hall."
"I shall obey your command."
As I bowed, I cast a glance at the Republic envoy. His expression was as dark as a corpse's.
The real corpse — Rudolf — was smiling, while the actual living man wore the face of someone about to weep. What an amusing joke. Well, this was the price for daring to pull petty tricks when I was so obviously backing the Emperor.
I had already handed Barbatos the script and made him memorize it beforehand. That was where the preparation differed. It would have been a good lesson for Elisabeth's pet dog, who barked so rudely and presumptuously.