"...That concludes the investigative authorities' report. The hull of the RMS Stella Marine shows no damage, and she has returned to port after completing her voyage as scheduled."
Lucilla's voice was the only sound in the quiet conference room where the ministers had gathered.
A collision between the East's Tier-4 ship-of-the-line and a passenger vessel.
A warship had been sunk, no less — which meant the situation carried corresponding gravity.
The difference in meaning between an ordinary merchant vessel and a warship was absolute.
"Hmm..."
Handled correctly, this was the perfect pretext to start a conflict.
With things having come to this, the other side wouldn't stay quiet. No one in the world sits still after their warship gets sunk.
So they'd protest loudly. They might use it as leverage to extend the naval blockade disguised as exercises.
But if they came at us that way, when we couldn't exactly be the ones to declare war first — what then?
The answer was simple.
Maneuver them into declaring war on us.
"We lodge the first protest."
Before they could protest, we'd protest first.
Your ship collided with ours — apologize and pay damages.
Was that really acceptable, given that we'd sunk their warship?
If they didn't like it, they shouldn't have been pulling that stunt on the open sea.
"Focus the protest on the East conducting exercises while blockading international waters. Bill them for the repairs to the RMS Stella Marine as well."
Under normal circumstances I'd never stoop to this kind of petty harassment — but they'd started it, so we had every justification.
My objective was simple.
By any means necessary, make them be the ones to declare war first.
"Also, warn them that if they conduct exercises on the open sea again, more of these 'unfortunate accidents' may occur."
"Yes, sir!"
"And work the public opinion. Angle it to highlight the East's culpability."
Every major media outlet was in my corner.
Ten years ago — during the period when I'd launched my revolution against the industrialists — I'd bought up mid-sized papers and built them into something substantial.
The very first thing I'd done upon seizing power.
Purge the stagnant legacy outlets, and bring the ones that would serve as my mouthpiece into the fold.
The papers that had watched the old major outlets crumble at my gesture knew exactly what weight my word carried in this South.
And so they printed my demands without omitting a single character.
[ The East's Illegal Seizure of International Waters. Is It Lawful Under International Law? ]
[ East's Illegal Blockade of International Waters Pushes Small and Medium Enterprises to the Brink of Bankruptcy... What Is the Central Government Doing? ]
[ The RMS Stella Marine Collision Incident. Is the East at Fault? ]
Soon, newspapers written precisely to my specifications were distributed across every corner of the South.
It had already been ten days since the exercises in international waters had begun.
Murmurs of discontent were starting to circulate among the citizenry.
"I heard our company might be looking at restructuring this time around. With the export routes blocked, it's just..."
"What is the Central doing at a time like this? Aren't we all citizens of the same Empire? Why do they always take the East's side when it matters?"
"Hah, it's not like the Central lot looking down on us Southerners is anything new. Same as always, I suppose..."
"I don't care about any of it — someone, anyone, please just fix this problem. Our company is going to die at this rate."
On top of that, there was a slow-burning anger that had accumulated in the citizenry over the years.
The people who'd been driven harder under the banner of Total War had been looking for somewhere to direct that anger.
South Duke Kayl Leopold, who'd put them through all that grueling work?
No.
You could curse the Crown Prince of the Empire all you liked, but there was no one in the South who would curse Kayl Leopold.
The generation that had been ground down like slaves in the factories until just eleven years ago now formed the backbone of society.
"What? Someone's saying what about Kayl, sir?"
"Leave it. The new ones don't even know what the South was like before Kayl, sir. That's why they talk like that."
"Cursing Kayl, sir — who created the Labor Standards Act for our sake. What a degenerate age we live in..."
Those who remembered the South from eleven years ago had by now worked long enough in the factories to earn their own standing.
From people in their mid-twenties who'd worked in factories since childhood, to those in their late forties — those who knew how brutal factory life had been before found that the current hardships barely registered as hardship at all.
And so their anger turned elsewhere.
"Then whose fault is it?"
"Obviously the corrupt nobles who drove Kayl, sir, to make such decisions. You know how much Kayl, sir, cares for us workers."
The gaze of the seething public settled on the East.
"This is all because those Eastern bastards are up to their tricks."
"The fact that the Central hasn't said a word while they've been running exercises in international waters in violation of international law — they must be in on it together."
"Idiots. They must not know what fate befell the Sarcen territory when they tried something like this against us."
In the past, people would have done nothing but lament their lot.
The old South had been a fractured province that couldn't raise a single voice of protest against such unreasonable measures.
But Kayl Leopold's South was different.
A region where ordinary people could speak their minds in the face of injustice. A place of the people, by the people, for the people. A land of opportunity where even the most ordinary person could become something great.
The citizens who knew how the South had changed were, once again, waiting for Kayl Leopold to produce an answer.
"The more we rest, the more those bastards will look down on us! Let's cut into our meal breaks, our smoke breaks, even our bathroom breaks and get to work!"
"Come on, everyone. Let's focus on the work. Our company is shaking right now, but Kayl, sir, will give us an answer soon enough!"
Thanks to the experience of victory in the last war, people worked diligently even amid the anxiety.
Kayl, sir, said he'd resolve it somehow, so it will absolutely be resolved! — there were even people who kept their businesses running at a loss, that certain.
The polling results surprised even me.
"Public sentiment is better than I expected."
"You are the savior of the South's citizens, my lord. Some of them would probably die for the South if you asked."
"That much?"
I looked at Lucilla with skeptical eyes. She returned an expression that said: why are you even asking something so obvious?
Honestly, I'd known my public standing wasn't bad.
A leader with 85% approval can effectively govern as a legal autocrat even under a democratic system.
But that kind of popularity tends to erode the moment the economy turns or life gets harder.
It had been quite some time since I'd thrown every able body in the South into the grinder under the banner of Total War.
I'd been a little worried that my approval might be starting to slip — so this was a relief.
"I was actually debating whether I'd need to manipulate public opinion on top of everything else."
I always assume the worst-case scenario.
A habit I'd developed since becoming South Duke Kayl Leopold.
A leader is someone who must have an umbrella ready before the rain falls.
Scrambling for an umbrella after you're already soaked is too late. A belated response changes nothing.
Just as a great ship cannot easily change course, the direction of the South — this vast industrial complex — cannot be easily redirected either. Trying to turn at the last moment before an iceberg only guarantees a collision.
One wrong judgment, one mistaken turn of the helm on this great vessel called the South, and an irreversible catastrophe might follow — which was why I'd been cautious until now, but...
"This gives me a bit more room to make decisions."
Even in an absolute monarchy, you cannot entirely ignore the will of the people.
Even the Kim family, who live like gods up north, put on a show of weeping in front of crowds to at least pretend they care about public sentiment.
The East Duke couldn't be in a comfortable position either.
Your warship gets sunk and you do nothing? You don't declare war? Then your own citizens will rise up against you.
I had eleven years of demonstrated results to fall back on, so I was fine. But the East Duke, who'd spent those eleven years doing nothing but enjoying himself — would he be fine?
I doubted it.
"Summon the Intelligence Bureau director."
Intelligence Bureau Director William entered the ducal office exactly twenty minutes later.
His expression carried a faint trace of tension. Whenever I summoned the Intelligence Bureau director personally, it was never a routine matter.
This time was no different.
"I'd like you to work the public opinion in the East."
"Public opinion... you say?"
"Yes. Nothing too complicated — I want you to stoke pro-war sentiment. Agitate in that direction."
No answer suggesting difficulty came back.
The Intelligence Bureau — equipped with the South's most advanced technology, its sharpest staff officers, and massive financial backing — had exactly one function.
To execute whatever I ordered.
***
As it was, the East had been absorbing devastating blows over the past eleven years.
The South, completely rebuilt by Kayl Leopold, had begun selling goods in every direction, and the East's trade figures — once the undisputed masters of the sea — had been declining day by day.
The East's industries, which had operated under corrupt nobles in the form of merchant guilds, craftsmen's guilds, and every other variety of guild, were being systematically dismantled.
Machine-produced goods boasted uniform quality, superior performance, low prices, and sheer volume that nothing else could match.
The merchant-noble families who had reigned as the East's entrenched elite for a thousand years were not pleased.
The commoners who had once been forced to buy their overpriced goods with no alternative now had access to Southern products.
Could they lower their prices now and compete on cost?
Handicraft production competing on price against factory output was simply impossible.
And so they had been hoping to use this opportunity to deal a blow to Southern enterprises.
"If not now, when will we ever put those Southern upstarts in their place?"
"We should be pressing the naval blockade while we have the chance — what is that fool Edward doing?"
"The seas of the Empire belong to us. We need to teach those Southern bastards a lesson for stealing our waters."
Under that pressure, South's agents moved in to manipulate public opinion among the guilds.
The guilds — their technology stagnant, their entire existence built on squeezing the common people — fell easily to the agents' machinations.
Edward's support base was openly demanding something beyond a naval blockade. An actual conflict.
In the end, unable to hold out, Edward made the first move.
"We have spent the past month demanding an apology and reparations from the South for the sinking of the Tier-4 ship-of-the-line Iliad."
"However, the South has offered not a single word of apology, and has had the audacity to demand that we pay for repairs to their vessel, the RMS Stella Marine."
"Therefore, the East Ducal House, the East's Royal Navy, and the East Merchant Guild Alliance hereby declare war upon the South, effective the 30th day of the 5th month of Imperial Year 1026."
"All waters north of the 17th parallel shall be designated a war zone, and any vessel attempting to evade inspection by our ships may come under attack from the Abyssal Monster Corps."