This took place shortly after the reorganization of the nations of Landia...
“You want to discuss something? With us?”
That day, Liscia and I had received a request for an audience from Lombard Remus and Yomi Remus, the newly crowned king and queen of the restored Kingdom of Remus, and we met with them in a reception room at Parnam Castle. It’d been only days since the summit that decided how the continent would be reorganized, yet the two of them had already taken the trouble to come see us.
As I wondered what subject they might spring on us, Sir Lombard opened with “There is a matter we wish to discuss with you.”
Now, meeting my gaze, he nodded and continued, “Yes. I wish to swallow my pride and borrow your wisdom.”
“My wisdom...? You’re making an awfully big deal out of this. What do you want to know?”
“How, as a king, should one rule over their subjects?”
I gave him a blank look at that. “You were born royalty, weren’t you? Haven’t you been a king longer than I have?”
“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but the Kingdom of Remus was only one of many countries in the Union of Eastern Nations. Our territory has now expanded more than twentyfold, putting us on par with the other nations that took part in the summit... Although, with the turmoil still yet to subside, we are a nation of great territory and little substance.”
Lombard delivered that self-deprecating remark with a wan smile.
The three nations in the north—the Great Tiger Kingdom of Haan, the Kingdom of Remus, and the Kingdom of Lastania—had all been formed from the breakup of the Great Tiger Empire of Haan and were still in the midst of reconstruction.
After the collapse of Fuuga’s ambitions, rebellions had broken out across the region, and Krahe’s coup had only accelerated the chaos. Much of the land lay in ruins. This was territory once known as the Demon Lord’s Domain, already devastated by constant monster attacks, so it was only natural it was in such poor shape.
Once Krahe was put down, the factions that’d supported him had their domains either confiscated or destroyed outright. The fence-sitters from that time had been forced to bow to the new states and demonstrate their loyalty.
The first of the three northern nations to stabilize was the Kingdom of Lastania. They were the one backed by our...that is, by the Kingdom of Friedonia. The world regarded us as the leaders of the postwar order. In private, they even nicknamed the Union of the Southern Continent—which had brought stability—the “Gran Friedonia Empire,” and called me, the one who’d toppled Fuuga’s ambitions and proposed the Union’s creation, “Emperor Friedonia.”
Y’know, between that and “Great King,” I’d sure picked up some pompous-sounding unofficial titles.
Because my brother-in-law, Julius Lastania, was its king, Lastania had received active support from us, which sped up its recovery.
The Great Tiger Kingdom of Haan, though greatly reduced in size, was the successor state to the Great Tiger Empire, so peace returned there quickly. They’d received aid from the Euphoria Kingdom and engaged in frequent trade with the Spirit Kingdom of Garlan.
That left the Kingdom of Remus, which was struggling the most to recover. Of all the survivors from the Great Tiger Empire, Sir Lombard was the only one suited to lead a nation, but many of the knights and nobles who’d submitted to him after the war looked down on him for having gained his crown largely as a windfall. His old friends in the Great Tiger Kingdom of Haan were helping with the recovery, but as aid recipients themselves, they couldn’t give him much of a boost. In all likelihood, at the next summit, the entire Union would have to lend its strength towards Remus’s reconstruction.
That said, waiting for outside help wouldn’t get them far. Sir Lombard was here because he wanted to see what he could accomplish on his own.
“So, what’s your precise question?” I asked.
“How to rule people with differing positions and differing cultures,” Sir Lombard replied. “When you were King of Elfrieden, you annexed your hostile neighbor, the Principality of Amidonia, and ruled over its people without major turmoil, creating a single nation—the Kingdom of Friedonia. Furthermore, as someone summoned from another world, this country was foreign to you at first, and its people were not your own. I hear there were even rumors that you had usurped the throne.”
He’d done his homework. I could tell from the way he spoke that he was sharp. In the Great Tiger Empire’s camp—a place full of highly talented but difficult-to-control individuals—Sir Lombard had earned a reputation as a reliable commander. He wasn’t flashy, but he was steady and principled.
He must have been as indispensable as rice, like Niwa Nagahide had been to the House of Oda.
“Yeah, there were. I even remember a certain someone storming into the governmental affairs office after jumping to the conclusion that I’d usurped the throne... Pfft.”
I shot a glance at Liscia, earning a silent jab in the ribs.
It actually hurt. I gave her a reproachful look, but she only turned her head away with a huff.
Sir Lombard continued speaking calmly, as though he hadn’t just witnessed that exchange.
“I would love for you to tell me, Sir Souma. I’m sure you’re aware, but although my kingdom was once part of the Great Tiger Empire, it was originally a region made up of many nations. As such, our people have a wide variety of cultures and values. We’re working on nation-building alongside recovery, but any new ideas we introduce will likely clash with long-held traditions.”
He wasn’t wrong... Sir Lombard looked me straight in the eye.
“If we force change, discontent will build. But if we do nothing, the other countries will leave us behind. That’s why I’m hoping you can teach me how to earn the people’s support while introducing new elements into our culture. Please.” He bowed his head.
“Ah!” Yomi quickly followed suit. “Yes, please help us.”
Having the sovereign of another nation bow to me was a little overwhelming... If he was willing to humble himself that much, I had to give him my best—though it’s not like I intended to turn him down anyway.
The problem was it wasn’t so simple. Some of my policies had been widely accepted, others less so, and a few had produced results I never anticipated. Teaching a “formula” for that was easier said than done.
As I sat there groaning and racking my brain, Liscia tugged on my sleeve. “Souma, you’re making this harder than it has to be. Isn’t there already someone out there bragging that he learned how to rule from you? You must have something to teach.”
“Someone who learned from me? Who?”
“Y’know, the head of the Republic of Turgis.”
“Oh, you mean Kuu.”
Now that she mentioned it, Kuu—who looked up to me as his “bro”—had stayed in our country for a time to observe my rule. Not that I’d been actively teaching him; he’d simply watched, learned, and gone home with his own conclusions.
Liscia pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to recall something.
“I was talking to Kuu once, and he said that the way to win the hearts and minds of people in a newly acquired region was to present them with something new—something that would make them feel a moment of vulnerability. He claimed he’d learned that from you.”
“I don’t remember teaching him that...but I kind of get what he means.”
“What does it mean?” Sir Lombard asked with interest.
I crossed my arms as I replied, “When you’re dealing with people bound by tradition, culture, or long-established values, it’s not easy to get them to accept a new proposal. They think, ‘We’ve always done it this way, so why change?’”
“Yes, exactly... And that’s precisely the problem we’re facing now.”
“In that case, before proposing anything, you should first show them brand-new possibilities. For example, I introduced the rhinosaurus train to improve the flow of goods, and used broadcast jewels for all kinds of programs when they’d only ever been used for the king’s speeches. You don’t just say, ‘I want to create this.’ You create it, show them how amazing it is, and get them interested. Once they embrace the innovation, tradition and culture will naturally adjust to meet it halfway.”
To give an example from my old world: when the pen was introduced to Japan from overseas, people began using it, but brushes weren’t totally eliminated. They still existed, along with the traditional styles of writing, and we even developed a hybrid—the fudepen, or brush pen. That’s what it means for tradition and innovation to find a compromise.
“I think that’s what Kuu was getting at. If you’re worried that the Kingdom of Remus will be left behind by the tide of the new era, then start by showing your people what that new era offers. Build a distribution network and strengthen trade with your neighbors so your people come into contact with developments from other nations. Or show them through broadcast programs, like the ones we produce. The first step is getting them interested in something new.”
“New things, you say?” Sir Lombard mused. As he did, an idea struck me.
“This is a good opportunity. Why not visit the city in my country that’s the most obsessed with new things? I can’t guide you myself since I’m tied up with official duties, but I’ll arrange protection and a guide so you and Madam Yomi can take your time.”
“My word! I couldn’t have asked for a kinder offer.” Sir Lombard’s face lit up, while Liscia frowned in puzzlement.
“Which city are you talking about? Parnam’s pretty fond of new things too.”
“No, there’s a city even more avant-garde than this.”
“Avan...what?”
“Avant-garde. It’s a word from my old world that means something like ‘innovative.’ It comes from the term for the advance guard of an army, but came to refer to art ahead of its time.”
“Art... Oh, you mean there.”
It seemed Liscia had caught on. Madam Yomi tilted her head.
“Um, which city exactly?”
“It’s Van, in the Amidonia Region. The former capital of the Principality of Amidonia,” I explained, then smirked. “It’s the most avant-garde city in the country.”