Now, as for how the areas other than Van felt, things weren't going well for him
there, either. Because, as already noted, the sudden death of Gaius meant that the
transfer of power hadn't been handled properly, and Julius was being taken lightly
by the lords of Amidonia.
This came in two forms.
The first was: Who cares about the Princely House? why should I have to bow my
head to that whelp? The kind that looked down on him.
The second was: That youngster is unreliable! I need to defend myself! The kind
that couldn't be bothered to deal with him.
The majority of the nobles and knights who held land in Amidonia fell into the
latter category.
To begin with, in a country under the feudal system, fealty was sworn to the liege
in exchange for guarantees on land and property. If the liege lacked the power to
provide those, the vassals would have to defend their land and property themselves.
They would come to act not for their liege's benefit, but their own.
Souma had told Julius, "Those who acquire a principality with difficulty will keep
it with ease. Those who acquire a principality without difficulty will find it difficult
to keep," paraphrasing the words of Machiavelli. As might be expected, Julius, who
had used the influence of the Empire to regain Van with ease, was finding it difficult
to rule.
There were some stories that seemed emblematic of the crumbling of his power
base, too.
As mentioned already, Julius issued an order banning people from watching the
Jewel Voice Broadcast, but this order was only followed in the areas close to Van.
Everywhere else, people apparently said, "Who cares what some order from the
capital says?" and kept on watching.
When trust in the center is shaken like that, each city starts to gather soldiers and
mercenaries of their own. If you consider that, at this time, the kingdom was
abolishing the armies of the nobles and the three dukes, creating one unified
National Defense Force, then this was a move in the opposite direction.
Every petty lord raising his own army was something Julius shouldn't have been
able to tolerate, but if he censured them for it, there was the risk that the lords
would band together and revolt against him.
However, looking at the end result, this was a chance to let the pus out.
Machiavelli would have pointed out that this was precisely the time when cruelty
should have been used. Even if it resulted in a revolt, he could eliminate hostile
forces and intimidate those who were hesitant to commit to him into falling in line.
However, Julius didn't do that.
Maybe he was the sort to let sleeping dogs lie, or he didn't want to lose any more
manpower when it had already been reduced by the war. There was no way to know
his reasons without asking him.
And so... that lack of planning was his first step into the quagmire.
One month ago, there had been a popular uprising in the northwest of Amidonia.
It started with riots over the shortage of food.
Those had happened in the kingdom as well, but the food crisis grew deeper the
further you went into the rural areas. It seemed that the northwest of Van was
especially hit hard, and "hundreds" was no longer enough to count the number who
had died to starvation.
The people of the domain turned to their lord for aid, but the lord refused it.
Because he had gathered troops, the little food he had in storage was being used to
maintain them.
The lord's attitude caused the people's anger to explode, and they attacked his
manor. The lord had to use the troops he had gathered against the people of his own
domain, whom he had enraged.
What was more, the soldiers were largely people from his domain who had
missed meals themselves. When they were confronted by angry people from the
same domain, they were quick to abandon their posts and scatter.
The lord narrowly escaped and made his way to the princely capital, Van, where
he demanded that Julius quell the riots.
Julius pondered the request. If the riots dragged on, there was the risk that the
flames would spread to other areas where dissatisfaction was smoldering. Besides, if
he showed strength here, the nobles would no doubt fall in line.
Having made that judgment, Julius led the regular forces himself to put down the
rebellion. The peasants might have been angry, but they were no match for the
regular forces, and the rebellion was gradually being quelled. In the villages of the
northwest, the horrific sight of the corpses of peasant rioters lying in the streets
became widespread.
Julius was about to end his suppression of the rebellion in the northwest, but
then another even more surprising report came in.
The people of Van, which he had left vacant, had risen up and occupied the
capital. What was more, they had dispatched messengers to the Elfrieden Kingdom
pledging allegiance and requesting reinforcements, and the kingdom had accepted
their request and immediately dispatched its armies.
In other words, Van had been reoccupied.
◇ ◇ ◇
Maria gave me a look that seemed to demand answers. "And so... that's how you
came to reoccupy Van."
"Yes," I nodded. "It was a request from the people of Van, after all."
Mind you, I had used Kagetora and his Black Cats to incite the uprising in Van.
They had lain in hiding near Van, connecting with power brokers in the city as they
watched how things developed, waiting for the best timing to reoccupy Van. The
reason the reoccupation had happened so swiftly once the messengers had come to
deliver their pledge of allegiance was that those forces had already been deployed
near the border.
"The Mankind Declaration prohibits any change to the borders of countries
brought about by the use of force," Maria said. "The people of Van rose up and
forcefully occupied the city. If the borders of Amidonia are changed by this, it will
violate the Mankind Declaration. If that is the case, as the head of the treaty, the
Empire will have to mediate between the two nations again. I am sure we will have
to handle the kingdom harshly, too."
"Can you do that?" I asked.
Maria fell very silent.
"The Mankind Declaration also recognizes the right of self-determination for all
peoples," I said. "If the people of Van wish to belong to Elfrieden instead of
Amidonia, doesn't the Empire, as the chief signatory of the Mankind Agreement,
have to accept that and support them?"
Maria must have know that. That was why she was unable to say anything.
I sighed a little, then told Maria clearly, "This is why the kingdom didn't sign the
Mankind Declaration."
The three main articles of the Mankind Declaration were:
First, the acquisition of territory by force between the nations of mankind would
be deemed inadmissible.
Second, the right of all peoples to equality and self-determination would be
respected.
Third, countries that were distant from the Demon Lord's Domain would provide
support to those nations which were adjacent to it and were acting as a defensive
wall.
It was a wonderful thing, ideologically. However, there was a contradiction in
these three articles that the Empire hadn't noticed.
It was true that, if these three articles were sternly enforced, it would prevent
external conflicts. However, this text would make internal issues that arose
intractable.
To use this case with Van as an example, if the people's right to selfdetermination was accepted, the signatories of the Mankind Declaration would have
to accept what the people of Van had done.
However, if that meant that the borders of Amidonia would change, they also
couldn't accept it. Furthermore, the logic that, if Van became independent, it would
no longer be a signatory to the Mankind Declaration didn't hold water. If Amidonia
suppressed the people of Van who wanted independence, they would be censured
for failing to respect the right of peoples to self-determination.
In other words, the signatories of the Mankind Declaration would be forced into a
state of inaction.
Some of you may be wondering how the Empire could have failed to notice this.
However, it was the sort of thing that wouldn't occur to anyone until it actually
happened. After all, people on Earth in the 20th century hadn't noticed it, either.
"Have you heard the story I told Jeanne?" I asked.
"...Yes," Maria said. "It was a story about people who were afraid of getting caught
up in a fight between two gods establishing some rules to avoid a war, right?"
In the story I'd told, there were two gods: the God of the East, who said, "The
world should be equal," and the God of the West, who said, "The world should be
free." It was an era in which the followers of these two gods were staring daggers at
one another. The countries that were close to the boundary between these two gods
worked with countries in the east and west to establish some rules in order to avoid
being caught in a war between them.
One was: "Let's not allow borders to be changed by military force."
One was: "Let's let the people of each country make decisions for themselves."
One was: "Let's arrange cultural exchanges between the East and West and try to
get along."
"I heard it from Jeanne," said Maria. "It really is similar to the Mankind
Declaration, isn't it? I want to know how this story of yours ends. What happened to
the world after that?"
"There were problems, but it was reasonably successful for a time," I said.
"Eventually the God of the East broke up, and because the balance of power
collapsed, the state of tension was relieved, avoiding total war between the two
camps."
"And... wasn't that a good thing?" Maria asked.
"Yes, it was, at that point in time," I said. "However, later, in one multi-ethnic
country, a certain people started an armed uprising for independence. If their
independence wasn't recognized, it would go against the principle of selfdetermination. However, if their independence was recognized, it would mean
accepting a change in borders brought about by military force. That contradiction
immobilized the countries that had come up with these rules."
"Like the Empire has been right now?" Maria asked.
I gave a firm nod to Maria's question.
You may have already realized, but this story was about Earth's history.
The God of the East that said "People should be equal" was socialism.
The God of the West that said "People should be free" was capitalism.
The worshipers of these two gods had stared each other down during the Cold
War.
The countries that had engaged in talks to avoid a war from breaking out were
the members of the Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) in
1975, later the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). The
rules they had decided on were what was called the Helsinki Accords.
The reason I was able to immediately notice the contradiction in the Mankind
Declaration was because I was familiar with the similar Helsinki Accords. I had
studied modern history for my university entrance exams, after all.
That was why, while I knew the Helsinki Accords had been effective in
preventing the outbreak of total war between the East and the West during the Cold
War, they had made it impossible for anyone to move during the inter-ethnic conflict
between the Serbs and the Croats in Yugoslavia.
"This is the pitfall you said was in the Mankind Declaration?" Maria said with
disappointment.
"Yes," I said. "It's a fatal pitfall for a multi-racial state like ours. That's why the
kingdom can't sign the Mankind Declaration."
This might be cruel to say, but if we had been a country like Amidonia, with one
subset of races more powerful than the others, it might not have been much of a
problem. As long as a race was in a low position socially, or their population was
low, they wouldn't be able to get a movement for autonomy going inside the country.
But in a country like ours where many races worked together, it was dangerous.