“By overthrowing Babel and making up for your father’s misdeeds, you can restore your good name in the eyes of the people,” Arness replied.
“I suppose...” Nozomu muttered in response.
“Also, if we go with a story like ‘We recognized our father was a criminal, so instead of trying to avenge him, we simply left the country,’ that would provide a good explanation as to why we’re still alive today,” Arness added.
“Would it? I’d feel bad about lying to the people though...” He had moral reservations about lying to his subjects and telling them that his father was the one in the wrong, especially considering that Yuuto had exhausted every possible option to keep them fed and healthy.
“Well, it doesn’t exactly sit right with me either, but that’s honestly neither here nor there right now. It’s the best option we’ve got,” Arness said, effectively glossing over the details.
Nozomu knew he was right, but he couldn’t shake how gross it felt to him. He was honestly envious of Arness’s ability to keep his personal feelings from influencing his decisions. It was a skill Nozomu felt he’d always lacked.
“Well then, how about this?” Arness offered. “We can say ‘Babel has sown far more seeds of tyranny and suffering than our father Suoh-Yuuto. We could not sit idly by and let this happen, so we have returned! All who are fed up with the current regime, unite under our banner, for it is now Babel’s turn to receive his comeuppance!’ or something like that. People would probably change their opinion and come flocking to our cause, just as water gathers where it’s the most shallow.”
“I’m in awe that you were able to come up with a speech like that on the fly,” Nozomu replied with a wry smile. He felt a stir deep within his chest. “That ability to think on his feet was most definitely inherited from dad,” he thought. “You know, I get the feeling you would make a better reginarch than I would.” He knew how lame it’d sounded even as he said it, but he couldn’t help but say it anyway. To Nozomu, Arness was the most like Yuuto out of all his siblings, and the one most fit to rule. On top of already being fit and incredibly athletic, he’d learned clerical work under Linnea, military strategy under Fagrahvél, and espionage under Kristina. Not only that, he had excelled in every one of them. There was nothing Arness could do that Nozomu was able to do better, so Nozomu’s inferiority complex flared up every time he was around.
“Nah, no way. You’re clearly far more suited for it than me,” Arness replied. He vehemently disagreed with what Nozomu was suggesting.
“Really? Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Nozomu said.
“You’re the only one who thinks that way, Big Bro. You’re undoubtedly reginarch material. Everyone knows it. Right, guys?” Arness glanced over at Rungr and Wiz. The two nodded emphatically as if they were just as certain, but Nozomu couldn’t see their reactions as anything but deference to Arness, and it did nothing to ease the unrest in his heart.
“What?! Dellingr Fortress has fallen?!”
His envoy’s report roused the man from his slumber, the shock of the news immediately jolting him awake. He was in his early thirties, and he had virile facial features, the most striking of which was a scar cut sideways across his cheek; however, his sharp, upturned eyes and permanent scowl were no less intimidating. His name was Babel, and he was the second reginarch of the Steel Clan.
“Is it those savages to the east? I suppose that Arete bastard was all talk in the end?” Babel snorted with a click of his tongue. Arete was one of Babel’s four Dragon Generals, handpicked and trained by Babel himself. He’d seen promise in the man and had entrusted him with defending the eastern border, but it seemed he hadn’t been worth a damn in the end.
“No, sir, the enemy didn’t come from land, but the sea...” the envoy replied.
“What?!” His expression, calm up until now, contorted into one of shock as he whipped around to face the envoy. The face of a certain black-haired man passed through his mind. “It couldn’t be... The Noah?!”
“Yes, the vessel is identical to the one the previous reginarch used,” the envoy explained.
“I knew it!” Babel gritted his teeth hard. He’d heard from Jörgen that Yuuto and his family were using the ship to trade around the Orient. He must’ve heard about the situation here in Tarshish and come to investigate. “Well, I knew this day would come eventually.” After a long sigh, Babel regained his composure and grinned.
He was, of course, well aware that the current state of the Steel Clan wasn’t at all how Yuuto had envisioned it. However, there was a reason for that.
At first, Babel had had every intention of upholding Yuuto’s ideals. But in reality, ideals weren’t enough to run a country. In the first place, why did someone chosen by the gods like Babel have to worry himself with every little quibble of the ignorant masses? “It should be the opposite,” he thought. Wasn’t survival of the fittest supposed to be the universal, unshakable tenet of Yggdrasilian life? He was only following the natural order of things. Yuuto had been the odd one out for putting the needs of the people first.
“Looks like I’m going to have to make him regret this choice.” He’d been in Yuuto’s service for nearly ten years, and he knew the man’s personality well. After Babel had come to learn how things should be and began setting things right, he had anticipated Yuuto would eventually emerge to scold him for not following his predecessor’s ways. Babel had already prepared thoroughly for the occasion.
A vicious grin crept across his face, revealing his canines, as he issued his order. “Send word to the patriarchs in every region to mobilize. We’ll crush Suoh-Yuuto with everything we’ve got!”
“Oh, what do we have here? A pair of manifestos, huh?” the elderly man said in amusement, rubbing his now-bald head. To anyone who had known him in the past, he might have seemed thinner and more fragile, but the glint in his narrow eyes was just as sharp as it had been in his prime.
The man’s name was Botvid—the biological father of Albertina and Kristina. He was a wily master of information-gathering and the former patriarch of the Claw Clan. Although he’d been an invaluable member of Yuuto’s team, he was the kind of man that Yuuto had never been able to let his guard down around. Not even for a second.
With his advanced age finally catching up with him, he’d stepped away from the front lines and was currently enjoying a leisurely life of retirement—at least, he was until his solace was rudely interrupted. The current Claw Clan patriarch, Bávorr, had suddenly burst into his quarters in a panic, carrying two clay tablets.
“It seems one’s from Babel, and the other is from Lord Nozomu,” Botvid murmured.
“Right. I’d already received word that Dellingr Fortress had fallen, but which side should we take?” Bávorr asked. “In the first place, is this really from Lord Nozomu? Someone could’ve used his name to falsify...”
“It’s real,” Botvid said without hesitation, pointing to the insignia etched on the bottom of the clay tablet. He’d seen it so many times, he could never mistake it for anything else or forget what it signified. “This is the genuine seal of the þjóðann. Moreover, I’d already heard from Jörgen and Kris that Lord Nozomu was here.”
“What?! Then why didn’t you inform me?!”
“Because you didn’t ask. I’m just an adviser, Bávorr, and I have no interest in getting involved with topics I’m not asked to advise on,” Botvid replied with a cackle.
Bávorr’s shoulders went slack with defeat. “Normally, I’d welcome that stance, considering the trouble it’d cause me otherwise, but I can’t deny I’m a bit upset that you kept something this important to yourself.”
“If it was important enough, I knew you’d come to talk to me about it anyway,” Botvid said dismissively.
“So, everything was within your predictions.” Bávorr shook his head as if to say he couldn’t hold a candle to Botvid. “What should we do then?!” He seemed desperate, as though he’d been worrying himself over it all this time and was now at the end of his rope.
“Hmm... Let’s see,” Botvid muttered. He put his hand to his chin as if he were seriously thinking about it, but inwardly, he smirked in satisfaction. Bávorr was a perfectly capable man when everything was going smoothly, but he was woefully indecisive in a crisis. However, that was precisely why Botvid had appointed him as his successor. By taking advantage of Bávorr’s weakness, Botvid could manipulate him, allowing Botvid to retain his hold on the clan’s reins even from behind the scenes. He wasn’t the sort to relinquish his power so easily, and it was times like these that justified that decision. “I’d put my money on Lord Nozomu. It’s the Claw Clan’s mantra to always get behind the winning horse, remember?”
“So you think Lord Nozomu will win? Is that because of the authority he holds as the þjóðann?” Bávorr asked.
“Well, it’s certainly a factor we should keep in mind, but not the deciding one,” Botvid replied. The position of þjóðann had already lost the reverence it had enjoyed in Yggdrasil. Even in light of that, making a claim to the seat of the þjóðann still functioned well enough as a justification for war. However, if merely bearing the title was enough to win, then it would be considered a much larger military threat and not just an ornamental piece.
“Then is it because Babel rules with an iron fist, ignoring the well-being of the people?”
“Not especially. Father Yuuto was a bit odd in that regard. It’s far more typical to rule using intimidation to instill fear in the people’s hearts,” Botvid explained in a flat and uninterested tone. He didn’t especially hold any affection for the masses—he only really saw them as tools to gain wealth. The only reason his own rule had been a benevolent one was because he knew if he’d squeezed the Claw Clan’s population too hard, their dissatisfaction would have escalated into a rebellion, which would have been disadvantageous to the clan as a whole. From Botvid’s perspective, Babel had done a marvelous job striking a balance, keeping his subjects’ dissatisfaction at bay just enough to where they weren’t inclined to revolt.
“Then, Lord Nozomu’s skill...?” Bávorr asked.