The Kyle Leopold depicted in the original work had never been a particularly likable character.
He embodied the stereotypical image of a corrupt noble: fat, dull-witted, and incompetent. In the original 'Monajoh', Kyle Leopold was the very definition of incompetence.
But the present me, who had consistently maintained his appearance and fitness, was a little different.
"Lucilla, could you bring me a mirror?"
"Understood."
After adjusting my collar, I looked into the mirror. A tall, handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes stared back at me. With his sharp features and imposing appearance, he looked every bit the part of a regional ruler.
The uniform he wore helped, too.
The black uniform, commissioned from the finest tailors in the South, exuded restrained elegance and an air of authority.
"Ahem, ahem. This should do."
"You really are handsome when you dress up. Why don't you dress like that more often?"
"Why make myself uncomfortable when there's no official occasion? Besides, I think this is the first time I've heard you say something like that."
"...Whether you like it or not, a fact is a fact, isn't it?"
Perhaps embarrassed by her own admission, Lucilla paused for a moment. I couldn't help chuckling at how amusing she looked.
Before I knew it, only thirty minutes remained until the speech began.
It was time to prepare myself.
"Phew..."
After letting out a sigh filled with complicated emotions, I felt the last traces of sentiment give way to cold calculation.
I had delivered dozens of speeches while pushing the South's capitalists into line.
The composure I had developed while breaking free of the image of "a young punk who knows nothing about the world" would certainly come in handy now.
I once again reminded myself of the purpose of this speech.
"Justify the war. Eliminate anti-war sentiment. Establish the image of a leader who stands directly before the people. Mobilize the South for a wartime economy and eliminate hostility toward the Westerners."
The last objective was the most important.
Preparing for a wartime economy. Eliminating hostility toward the Westerners.
To stand against the Empire and other external enemies, we needed to extend our territory all the way to the Arbel Mountains. That meant eventually incorporating even the Westerners into our nation.
To achieve that, we needed power.
If I wanted to transform this world while ruling nothing more than the single region known as the South, I had to draw upon every resource the South possessed.
There were two ways to do that.
We could exploit conquered territories, or we could establish a wartime economic system.
Nazi Germany had financed its war effort by exploiting occupied territories.
But we couldn't afford to follow that example.
If we ruled the West through exploitation, we would turn it into a hostile and untrustworthy territory.
We would have to expend resources fighting external enemies while simultaneously suppressing resistance within our own borders.
Worse still, harsh colonial rule would breed resentment, making it impossible to recruit Westerners into our armed forces.
In other words, even if we went to the trouble of conquering the West, we wouldn't be able to make proper use of its resources.
"So, rather than exploit the West, we'll finance our military expansion through a wartime system."
In any case, establishing such a system was unavoidable.
It had only been a few years since we had begun rebuilding the South's institutions from scratch.
Conquering the West and mobilizing its population for military service would require enormous quantities of weapons.
The South and the West shared almost no racial differences and relatively few cultural ones. A thousand years of coexistence had fostered a sense of shared identity among their populations.
Managing that shared identity properly was another objective of this speech.
"Sooner or later, we will have no choice but to clash with the Imperial Center."
The ruling establishment despised innovation.
This wasn't merely prejudice. It was a natural consequence of a society standing on the brink of industrialization.
For an Industrial Revolution to take place, the existing social order, dominated by landowners and dependent laborers, had to be dismantled.
And in this romance-fantasy world, the landowning class was the nobility.
How many nobles would welcome an Industrial Revolution spreading from the South when it threatened to destroy their own class?
And the nobility weren't the only entrenched interests in this world.
There were also mages and knights.
Those who stood to lose their power through technological progress were doing everything they could to suppress the tide of industrialization.
In that respect, the Imperial Center resembled the late Qing dynasty of the nineteenth century.
No, its situation was even worse.
At least the Qing dynasty had built factories, produced ironclad warships, and made some effort to modernize.
But in the Empire, where nobles and mages held an iron grip on power, even that limited degree of reform was impossible.
"That explains the Crown Prince's mediation proposal."
There was no way such a proposal could persuade the side that had been attacked first to back down.
The fact that the Crown Prince had submitted such a proposal despite knowing that made one thing clear: the central nobles and mages had pressured him to offer the South as little as possible.
Perhaps I would have issued a similar proposal if I had been in his position.
Still, that didn't change the fact that the Crown Prince's head was full of flowers.
With the country in such a state, the Crown Prince was busy fooling around, completely bewitched by a woman.
A man who should have been purging corrupt nobles and preparing for war was instead nestled in a woman's arms. If that wasn't a head full of flowers, what was?
Once again, I realized that the South and the Empire could never share the same path.
"Ten minutes remain. Let us prepare."
"Ah, thank you."
I stood up at Lucilla's words.
Taking the manuscript with me, I left the waiting room. Immediately, I felt the gazes of the countless people filling City Hall settle upon me.
Before beginning my speech, I closed my eyes and steeled myself.
Imperialism is madness.
This is merely a drastic remedy for a world even more deranged than imperialism itself.
I resolved that I, at least, would not allow myself to be swept away by the very speech I was about to deliver.
***
The five thousand people gathered inside City Hall sat in unprecedented silence.
A rising star who had purged the South's corrupt vested interests and seized power. A pioneer implementing reforms far ahead of his time.
An outstanding innovator who had enabled the South to prosper despite the Empire's decline.
And the true hero of the war, who had led the South to victory in three battles: the siege of Sarsen Fortress, the defense of Sarsen Harbor, and the air raid on Albion.
Never before in the history of the South had anyone so thoroughly deserved the title of "Superhuman."
Thus, the people awaiting his appearance watched the podium with bated breath.
And finally, a man stepped onto the stage.
Kyle Leopold.
The moment he appeared, radiating the dignity of a leader, everyone in the hall held their breath.
Kyle Leopold opened his mouth.
"Today, I have invited all the citizens of the South to gather here."
The speech began in a calm, solemn voice.
"Even now, wounded soldiers from the recent battle stand before me. These young men, who suffered grievous and sometimes irreversible injuries during the West's cowardly night raid, have come here to represent the resolve of our armed forces."
Kyle's gaze shifted slightly to one side.
"Beside them sit the bereaved families of those who lost their lives in that battle."
"The West's cowardly attack robbed our citizens of their fathers, brothers, husbands, and friends. We owe an enormous debt to these brave young men, who fought to protect us all until their final moments."
He was merely stating the facts, yet even those simple words were enough to ignite the anger of the assembled citizens.
The nobles of the West spoke endlessly of honor while disregarding the South's capitalists. Then they had launched a cowardly night raid, leaving young men to suffer the consequences of their unjust attack.
The South occupied the position of the victim so perfectly that no additional propaganda or agitation was needed to make its case.
Kyle Leopold took those simmering emotions and united them into a single, collective anger.
"Behind them are the munitions workers who labor day and night to manufacture weapons for the South."
"Behind them are representatives from various industries. Engineers from the Design Bureau. Scientists, doctors, civil servants, teachers, architects... Everyone working to develop the South, regardless of profession, is represented here."
"Among those gathered here in Albion City Hall are hundreds of women, as well as young and elderly citizens. Everyone was invited without distinction of wealth, occupation, or age."
"Therefore, you who stand before me represent a miniature of the entire South, encompassing every segment of our society. Am I right?"
Human beings were creatures capable of empathizing with one another.
The citizens already shared the grief of the wounded soldiers and bereaved families, along with a burning hatred for the Western nobles responsible for the cowardly surprise attack.
In the face of that shared emotion, distinctions of gender, age, and social status began to fade.
Even the financiers in their immaculate suits and the entrepreneurs who prided themselves on their dignity were swept up in the atmosphere and shouted their agreement.
"That's right!"
The voices of thousands filled the hall.
Amid the resounding cheers, Kyle raised his voice.
"Then, my fellow citizens! You are here today to represent the will of the South!"
"I intend to ask you several questions. Answer not only on behalf of the citizens of the South listening over the radio, but also for the enemies who must be trembling in fear as they hear us!"
The atmosphere grew increasingly heated, and the hall erupted in a chorus of voices.
The excited citizens were ready to answer whatever he asked.
Kyle raised his voice another notch.
"The Western nobles believe that the citizens of the South are afraid of war!"
"They have violated the Sarsen-Lutetia Treaty! They have invaded a port that we acquired through a legitimate treaty! They have launched a night raid without the slightest justification, hoping to see how much we are willing to endure!"
Bang-!
Kyle slammed his fist against the podium and shouted.
"I ask you! Are the citizens of the South prepared to punish these crimes, no matter what price we must pay?"
The answer had already been decided.
Five thousand voices rang out across the hall.
"Yes!"
Before the cheers had even died down, Kyle cast a loudspeaker spell upon his throat and continued.
"Second, the Imperial Center demands that we withdraw from the Sarsen Territory, which we acquired through a legitimate treaty!"
"Tell me, citizens of the South! Are you afraid of armed conflict? Do you wish to return to the days when we paid unjust tolls at Sarsen Fortress year after year, unable even to protest?"
His second question addressed the Imperial Center's mediation proposal.
Not a single citizen was willing to accept such an absurd proposal, which demanded that the side that had been attacked simply endure the injustice.
"No!"
Kyle smiled in satisfaction before posing his third question.
"Third, the nobles of the Imperial Center and the West look down upon the achievements of our South's laborers, dismissing their work as vulgar!"
The Four Estates.
He was attacking the Empire's deeply rooted ideology that regarded industry and commerce with contempt.
The Southerners gathered in the hall had all experienced that scorn and ridicule firsthand. It was a shared humiliation that had left a lasting mark on them.
There was no better way to fuel hostility toward the nobility than to bring those wounds to the surface.
"I ask you! Are you prepared to refute their claims? Are you ready to show those corrupt and arrogant nobles the power of the great civilization our ancestors have built over the past hundred years?"
"Yes!"
The crowd responded fervently, their deepest grievances finally given a voice.
Swept up in the collective fervor, the people were no longer in any state to question Kyle's words.
Now, he moved on to the heart of his speech.
"Fourth, the nobles of the Empire claim that the citizens of the South lack courage! They say that we would rather submit than fight!"
"Never! Never! Never!"
"Then I ask you! Do you desire total war? If necessary, are you prepared to wage a war more absolute and more radical than anything you can imagine today?"
For a moment, the hall fell silent.
And then—
"Yes!!!!"
A tremendous roar erupted, dwarfing every response that had come before it.
Riding the momentum, Kyle continued.
"I ask you! Do you swear to liberate our Western compatriots who suffer under the corrupt Western nobles? Do you swear to carry the free spirit of the South to your family and friends in the western lands?"
"We swear!"
"Do you agree that, in wartime, everyone must share the same rights and duties? That every citizen must bear the heavy burden of war, and that this burden must be shared equally, regardless of social status?"
"We agree!"
Kyle took a deep breath before reciting the final passage of his speech.
"Our army will annihilate the enemies in the sky, on the sea, and on the land! Do you believe that the technology and wisdom we have accumulated will lead us to inevitable victory?"
"We believe!"
***
The speech at Albion City Hall concluded successfully.
Beginning the following day, the South started transforming itself into a vast war machine.
Automobile factories began producing field guns, while pipe factories were converted into rifle factories. Engineers from the Design Bureau started teaching factory workers how to read and interpret blueprints.
To keep pace with the naval fleet in a war of maneuver, the Army requisitioned its most elite forces: the 1st and 2nd Orders, totaling ten thousand troops, along with a support unit of five thousand.
The Dreadnought, which had completed its open-sea training exercises alongside the destroyer fleet, returned to port. After repairs and resupply, the fleet completed its preparations to set sail.