"War! Unite the shattered continent once more — restore the glory of the great Empire!
War upon the Central Lands Alliance! War upon the Southern Kingdoms! War upon the Northern Empire!
The moment has come! And this, gentlemen, is my favourite moment of all — ignite the war!
Crush and devour every wretch who dares call himself the heir of some royal or imperial line! We are the true successors!"
Elsewhere — far from Weise —
the words rang out and echoed through the vast, magnificent splendour of a palace hall, thunderous and full of a commanding authority that brooked no dispute, pressing every minister assembled below into bowed silence, not one of them daring to raise their head.
Ohari — a mid-sized kingdom occupying the northwestern tip of the Central Lands — held the richest mineral reserves on the continent and commanded one of its finest military forces.
When the great war against the Demon Race had come, Ohari had held its own no less than the Northern Empire.
The Anhadī royal house that ruled Ohari traced its lineage back to a branch of the imperial family of the Unified Empire, a thousand years past.
Now, under generations of diligent rule by the Anhadī dynasty, Ohari had grown powerful enough to stand apart from the alliance of Central Lands nations — a force unto itself.
Before the ancient throne stood a tall man, and it was from his lips that this declaration of war upon nation after nation had come.
He was Anhadī III — King of Ohari.
Anhadī III was in the middle years of his life, yet his fighting spirit had not dimmed in the slightest.
His brows swept sharp as drawn blades; dark red hair, cut to medium length, fell loose across his shoulders. His bare upper body revealed hard, warrior's muscles; draped over one shoulder was a gilded coat, its two empty sleeves stirring without wind.
Both great hands rested upon the hilt of his sword, and the figure he cut was less that of a king than of a supreme commander on the field of battle.
At the King's command, every minister fell silent — and on every bowed face, the expression was different.
"Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness — I cannot agree with this."
From the back of the assembled court, an old minister with white-streaked hair suddenly pressed his way forward.
"Oh?"
Anhadī III raised an eyebrow. A note of displeasure entered his voice — he had not expected opposition to come quite so soon.
Beneath his robes, the old minister clenched his fist tightly and raised his voice by a degree.
"I served the King before Your Majesty. The foundations that our late sovereign built through years of tireless labour — how can they be squandered on war? It is far too early to make war upon the other nations."
Before the old minister had even finished speaking, a young minister shoved his way out from among the ranks and levelled a finger at him, launching into a furious rebuke.
"Nonsense! Without His Majesty's leadership, how could we have defeated the Demon Race — how could we have preserved everything we have built?! His Majesty's every choice is correct! With the King at our head, victory in war is assured. Old man — do you dare defy and betray your sovereign?!"
The old minister's eyes went wide with fury at these words. On the throne before him, Anhadī III broke into a loud, rolling laugh.
At the sight of it, the old minister immediately dropped to his knees.
"I swear it — for the prosperity of Ohari, I would do anything. I beg Your Majesty to hear my counsel. Abandon this war."
"Tell me — you say you would do anything for Ohari?"
Anhadī's face took on an expression of leisurely amusement.
"Of course! Your Majesty — please, do not start this war!"
At this, the young minister moved to retort against the old man kneeling on the floor — and then, the instant he opened his mouth, his whole body seized with a sudden chill.
Killing intent. A suffocating, oppressive pressure — aimed not at himself, but at the old dog on the ground.
Anhadī III had drawn his sword and was already standing before the old man.
"Then — can you die for Ohari?"
The old man had barely begun to raise his head when he saw Anhadī III lift his sword and bare a cruel smile; the shadow of the blade fell over his shocked face, bearing down on him with terrible speed.
"Lord Wilhelm!"
As the blade was about to fall, the old minister screamed with every last breath he had toward the side of the hall.
Beside the throne, there was a smaller seat, and upon it sat an elderly man with white hair and a short beard. He leaned at ease upon a staff of deep black wood, nearly as tall as a man — at first glance, it looked almost as if he were simply holding an enormous black club.
Ohari's greatest Mage. A war hero from the conflict against the Demon Race.
Mage Wilhelm — granted a station second to none but the King — stood as the foremost representative of Ohari's court Mages.
He looked upon the old friend with whom he had once shared a handful of heart-to-heart conversations — and the desperate, pleading eyes of a man facing the headsman's stroke.
Wilhelm closed his eyes, shook his head, and spoke in a voice edged with age.
"Forgive me. Die for Ohari, then. The age is about to change — and war… this old man supports it, too."
With a bitter, broken smile still on his face, the old minister's head was taken. The first blood of the war's opening had been spilled.
Blood splattered across the young minister's face. He turned his gaze upon Anhadī III with a look of burning, ecstatic devotion.
"War!"
"War!"
"War!"
Willing or unwilling, not one person raised their voice against Anhadī III's royal decree any longer. Some raised their hands in open support; others bowed their heads and accepted in silence; others exchanged hushed, uneasy whispers.
Anhadī III took it all in, and wiped the blood from his sword. His spirits were high.
In his eyes, glory, bloodline — all such things were merely pretexts for going to war, nothing more.
The war against the Demon Race was over. Very well — then let there be a war against Humans.
He had said it himself: war was his greatest pleasure. Only the battlefield could keep boredom at bay.
One day after Anhadī III declared war,
a carriage came racing out through the gates of Ohari at full speed.
Atop it, a tall and slender man lashed the reins with all his might, pausing only now and then to lift his arm and mop the sweat from his brow.
"I have to get this news to my brother as fast as I can…"
"The plan for an assault on Gaderia is all here. This time, the Northern Empire made secret contact with us — at the moment of the Empire's next direct confrontation with Gaderia, we can march under the banner of rendering support, send in our forces from the rear, and crush Gaderia between ourselves and the Empire in a pincer attack!"
In an abandoned fortress somewhere in the Central Lands, several kings and lords from various nations of the Central Lands had gathered in secret conference.
"Lull them into dropping their guard under the pretence of coming to Gaderia's aid, then strike — yes, I think that could work. The question is: what do we stand to gain once Gaderia falls?"
"On that point, everyone may rest easy. The Empire has given its word — once Gaderia is taken, they will divide half of it and give it to us."
"Half?"
"That's right. Territory, wealth, resources — half in every sense of the word. After all, Gaderia made a considerable fortune in the wake of that business with the magic potion."
"That sounds reasonable. I agree."
"Ahem — I agree as well."
"Agreed."
"No objection from me."
Just as everyone was reaching a consensus, a messenger came bursting in, breathless.
"Hah… hah… my lords — something has happened! The northern — Mo… Mo… the Kingdom of Moss has fallen!"
"What happened?!" The assembled lords cried out as one.
The Kingdom of Moss was a mid-to-upper-tier nation in the Central Lands — how had it simply vanished overnight?
Had the Demon Race returned?
The messenger drew a deep breath and steadied his violently lurching insides.
"It was the Kingdom of Ohari. They have broken the Central Lands Pact and declared war upon every neighbouring nation around them!"
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👻🔥Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Uchiha Reborn in Jujutsu Kaisen: The System Thinks I'm in Konoha, but I'm Not
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