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“IT seems Matou is dead,” said an old man, his body sunk into a massive, luxurious chair. He was completely bald, excluding some patches of red hair along the sides of his head. But more eye-catching than his hairstyle was undoubtedly his frame. He was a head taller than the average person, and more than twice as wide. His limbs were as thick as tree trunks, and it was easy to guess that he possessed incredible strength. This was Ronza XII, the current emperor of the Ronzan Empire.
Three men stood around him.
“I have heard that as well,” one said. “And that he was defeated by a country known as Farune. However, it’s hard to believe that formidable mage was really killed.”
The speaker was Ronza XII’s eldest son, Crown Prince Rigen. He was around forty years old. Though he was tall, he wasn’t as bulky as his father, and instead had a well-proportioned body. His sculpted facial features were evidence of his Ulug blood.
“It’s the Great Sage,” Ronza XII said carefully. “I also can’t be sure he’s really dead.”
Thirty years previously, the emperor had embarked on a large-scale campaign to the south. After making an assault with new forces—such as Dragon Knights—more than thirty thousand elite soldiers had crossed the mountains and invaded the countries of the central continent. They had had tremendous momentum, and for a time it had appeared that the campaign had succeeded, but then, someone stood in their path—Matou.
Matou had used his powerful lightning spells to shoot Dragon Knights right out of the sky, and darkness magic to massacre the powerful Ronzan warriors. Ronza XII himself had been forced to flee back to the north, barely escaping with his life. The losses had been so great that since then, the Ronzan Empire had been unable to make any moves on central Ares.
“However, lately I’ve been hearing often about this Farune that defeated Matou,” Rigen said. “They speak of a country that controls a force of powerful warriors known as the Hundred. Its members eat monster meat.” His voice was tinged with contempt, perhaps because of his pride as a descendant of the very first people to begin eating monster meat.
“If they’ve gotten rid of Matou for us, isn’t that perfect?” said another of the men. “Once we crush Farune, the central continent will be ours. Simple. Dad, should I go?”
The one who cut into the conversation here was Egor, second in line for the imperial throne. Egor was a mountain of a man with impressive facial hair. He was a mighty warrior who was celebrated for his strength, which was said to be the greatest in the Empire.
One of Rigen’s eyebrows twitched. He was heir to the Empire, but if his brothers were able to seize the central countries, he could easily have been toppled from his position.
“Hm, so you want to go, my boy?” Ronza XII asked in a somewhat gentle voice. He had favored Egor—who resembled him—ever since his son had been a young boy. This was why he allowed Egor to call him “dad” even though he was the emperor. However, that wasn’t the only reason he indulged him in this moment. There was also a cold calculation behind it: even if Egor failed in his expedition to the center of the continent and perished, he wasn’t the crown prince, so it wouldn’t create a problem.
“Of course, Dad,” Egor said, flashing his teeth in a fierce smile. “And I’m not talking about just one country, either. I’ll take two, or maybe three.”
“Hmm…”
As Ronza XII briefly hesitated, the final man in the room opened his mouth to speak.
“Please wait, Father,” the man said. “If you mean to allow Egor to embark on a southern campaign, I would like permission as well.”
This was Ivanov, third in line for the imperial throne. Compared to the other princes, he was slender. He was still very much a large, muscular man by most standards, but he appeared unimpressive next to his brothers. Ronza XII had ordered him to research magic as a countermeasure against Matou. Physical strength was prized in the Ronzan Empire, and there was a tendency to belittle wizards, so Ivanov had effectively been given a pointless job of drudgery. However, this hadn’t discouraged Ivanov; he had gathered skilled personnel, devoted himself to magic research, and successfully created a powerful Mages’ Guild of his own. He had ascended to his current position in the succession in recognition of that achievement.
“You too, Ivanov?” Ronza XII said. He considered Ivanov’s Mages’ Guild to be a trump card for the next invasion of the south, so he was hesitant about using it too soon.
“Father, magic is still held in contempt in our empire. Egor may simply wish to fight, but we of the Mages’ Guild need tangible military successes.”
“Hmph,” Egor snorted derisively.
Their father, the emperor, had recognized Rigen as the crown prince. He was both strong and intelligent, and he left nothing to be desired as the future emperor. However, it wasn’t in Egor’s or Ivanov’s natures to give up. The first Emperor Ronza probably would have forced the three of them to fight and made the winner his heir, but those days had long since passed. If Ronza XII had any worries, it was that after he was gone, it was doubtful whether Egor or Ivanov, given their respective strength, would silently fall in line behind Rigen.
Perhaps the death of Matou presented an opportunity. If the southern campaign went well, the Empire would gain the land of the central continent—that long-desired, temperate region. Separated from the north by mountains, the territory would be like an enclave, and it would be difficult to govern. If the emperor made Egor or Ivanov king of that land, he could possibly avoid displeasing his sons while also ridding himself of any future issues. If they lost and died, that would simply mean that they had lacked the strength to win.
“Very well,” Ronza XII said. “I’ll allow Ivanov to take part as well.”
“Father!” Rigen shouted without meaning to. He was worried that if his brothers’ campaigns succeeded, his position would be threatened. Ronza XII raised a hand and silenced him.
“In the Ronzan Empire, strength is everything. You may go and carve out nations of your own.”
At that, the three sons realized their father’s true intention, and they were all satisfied. Rigen saw that his position was secure, and Egor and Ivanov were content with being given free rein to invade the south. The two of them dreamed of building their own massive empire in the center.
And so, the great northern empire began to move.