No matter how much I carried the authority of the Emperor as his representative, I was still a fourteen-year-old child.

To the King of the Kingdom and the Pope of the Holy State, I must have seemed laughable.

However, they didn’t dare show that scorn on their faces.

The military power of the Kingdom of Belbur was insignificant compared to the Empire. Both Belbur and the Empire were conscription-based nations, but the number of soldiers in proportion to the population was much higher in the Empire, which had a much larger population. Naturally, the Kingdom's military strength was pitiful in comparison.

Additionally, while the Empire was actively modernizing its air force and navy, the Kingdom’s military remained “medieval” in comparison. Of course, that didn’t mean they still fought with swords, spears, and bows, but they severely lacked tanks and aircraft. The Empire, on the other hand, had already advanced from the chaotic tanks of World War I to state-of-the-art main battle tanks with rotating turrets and powerful main guns. In comparison, the Kingdom’s army was weak.

And despite how inefficient air battleships might seem at first glance, in a world without advanced anti-air missiles, they were terrifying.

There were no anti-aircraft guns with the range of a battleship’s main guns, nor were there anti-aircraft cannons capable of penetrating the armor of the Empire’s Dreadnought-class airships.

In theory, one would have to use a battleship’s artillery to hit them, but the range of naval guns fired upward toward the sky and those fired downward from an airship into the sea was vastly different.

The Empire’s airships could travel at a maximum speed of 120 kilometers per hour, faster than any ship in the world. And they didn’t fly alone, making it difficult to send bombers to drop explosives on them.

To make matters worse, the Empire’s air force was the strongest in the world. Slow-moving bombers would be easily shot down by interceptors long before they reached their targets. And in all likelihood, even those bombers would be of Imperial origin.

In short, imagine a massive gunship firing shells more powerful than those from modern self-propelled artillery, from a distance comparable to that of self-propelled artillery—but from the air, with precision. The gunship’s armor would be comparable to that of a battleship, and it would be escorted by dozens of interceptors. To nations just beginning to modernize, it was pure terror.

Indeed, in the Empire's military doctrine, the role of airships was akin to that of the gunships used by modern American forces. The problem was that there was no effective way to shoot them down.

For these reasons, even if the King and the Pope’s representative found me laughable, they greeted me with utmost politeness.

“We understand the stance of the Holy State. However, we cannot compromise on our religious freedom. The Kingdom of Belbur has long been a melting pot of various ethnicities. If we were to establish the Goddess Religion as the state religion, it would cause severe social unrest. I regret to say that we must once again reject this proposition.”

“As always, we are deeply disappointed.”

Of course, just because they were polite didn’t mean they seriously considered me as part of the conversation.

I didn’t intend to actively participate either. The only nations that had a vested interest in speaking up at this tripartite summit were the Kingdom and the Holy State. The Empire, wielding absolute dominance, had no need to interfere unless its interests were directly threatened.

As a result, I spent most of the meeting sipping on a wonderfully fragrant tea. The milk tea, rich with sugar and cream, was delicious. It was a specialty of the Kingdom of Belbur, if I recalled correctly.

“The Holy State may be a small nation, but it possesses powerful military capabilities. We believed a partnership with the Kingdom would be mutually beneficial…”

“Hmm…”

The King shot me a quick glance.

Oh, these people...

The Holy State was an incredibly small nation—practically the size of a single city. It had gained independence centuries ago due to some ancient treaty.

Because of its religious significance, the Holy State leaned heavily toward the “fantasy” side of things. Although the Empire, with its airships and modern weaponry, also had elements of fantasy, the Holy State went even further.

The Holy State’s Paladins, wielding divine magic, were formidable threats in a different way compared to soldiers armed with guns. There were few of them, but their presence on the battlefield was akin to deploying tactical weapons.

In short, the Holy State was proposing an alliance with the Kingdom.

I silently observed the two of them as they conversed.

I already knew some of this from the game. The Kingdom would ultimately reject religious unification, but the Holy State would still provide covert support to the Kingdom’s key figures.

They were setting themselves up as challengers to the Empire’s hegemony. While they might seem like reasonable, rational religious leaders on the surface, the Holy State harbored ambitions of uniting all religions under the banner of the Goddess Religion.

The Empire was even more of a cultural and religious melting pot than the Kingdom, with colonists from various territories, annexed cultures, and indigenous faiths mixing together. To the Holy State, the Empire must have seemed like a thorn in their side.

Of course, their ultimate goal was likely just that—a distant ideal. Just as the South Korean government’s constitutional objective is to reunify with the North, they had no real intention of acting on it. The Holy State knew full well that trying to enforce religious unification would lead to their destruction.

So instead, they sought to gradually and pragmatically shift things in their favor.

The Kingdom, exposed to the threat of the Empire, was a natural ally. The Empire might seem content for now, but internal dissatisfaction was quietly brewing. And the best way to channel that discontent was by directing it outward.

It wasn’t surprising that the Kingdom and Holy State viewed the Empire through the same lens.

Therefore, most of the discussion at this summit was likely just for show. In reality, the two nations were probably negotiating behind the scenes. Even if the talks here broke down, they would likely form a secret alliance later.

Of course, they would have to put on a convincing enough show to make the Empire believe their talks were genuine.

Was the King’s slight frown a sign of genuine frustration?

I quietly contemplated my next move.

Whether or not they formed an alliance, the Emperor would eventually act. So... it didn’t really matter whether I said anything or not.

“We do not intend to reject the Goddess. Our royal family has long followed the faith. However, if we declare the Goddess Religion as the only legitimate faith, it will undoubtedly lead to unrest within the Kingdom. That would render an alliance with the Holy State meaningless.”

“In that case, the Holy State’s renowned Paladin Order will assist in maintaining order.”

“That sounds like an offer to station foreign troops in our Kingdom.”

Nice try.

They were already stationed here, though.

Of course, their numbers were so small that they weren’t like the U.S. military garrisoned in Korea, draining resources, nor were they deployed as a full unit. But they were still present, disguised as clergy in the Goddess temples throughout the Kingdom. This was a known fact from the game’s lore.

Even so, they were likely counting on keeping their secret troops hidden from my eyes.

“What if…”

To be honest, I didn’t particularly like the Holy State. Their secretive machinations were annoying, and most of their characters were obnoxiously self-righteous. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d been written as cliché fanatical zealots from a typical manga, but…

Instead, they pretended to be devout believers while killing people left and right or massacring civilians in the name of “justice,” all while maintaining this irritatingly smug demeanor. To top it off, they were inexplicably popular with fans due to their good looks. It was such a typical trait of Japanese RPGs to have such problematic characters undergo late-stage redemption arcs.

Sure, there were a few good characters in the Holy State, some of whom even became the protagonist’s friends or love interests. But I found a few specific characters so irritating that I often sabotaged the Holy State’s entire faction.

Sometimes I even fabricated parts of the lore just to mess with them... though I did eventually get caught.

Anyway, I was tempted to stir things up here.

For example, by saying something like:

“If the Empire were to make the Goddess Religion its official state religion, would the Holy State consider forming an alliance with us?”

The two of them froze at my words.

Of course, the Emperor despised the very concept of a “Goddess,” so he would never agree to such a thing. That was why I felt perfectly safe making such a bold statement.

Whether the Goddess truly existed in this world or not, I didn’t care. I just didn’t like the Holy State, and I had no intention of forming any alliance with them.

Besides, the Empire didn’t need them.

“Are you saying the Empire is open to adopting the Goddess Religion as its official religion?”

“That depends on what benefits we would gain. The Empire is a modernized nation, so we have no intention of making an unproven belief system our state religion. However, if the benefits outweighed the harm, it could be considered.”

The Holy State’s representative narrowed his eyes at me, clearly trying to gauge whether I was being serious or just testing them.

Moreover, if the Holy State aligned itself with the Empire, there was a chance they could be absorbed entirely. The Empire was powerful enough to do so. And given the Emperor’s ambitions, he would likely be more than willing to make that happen.

Even if the Empire made the Goddess Religion its state religion, it wouldn’t be able to suppress all other faiths. Not unless it wanted to tear itself apart. At most, the Empire would recognize it as the “state” religion while allowing others to exist.

But this proposal struck at the very core of the Holy State’s identity. Their ultimate goal was to abolish all other religions and establish a single, “true” faith. However, that could only happen if the Holy State wasn’t absorbed by the Empire in the process.

“Is this the Emperor’s will?” the Holy State’s envoy asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know. Since the Pope didn’t attend in person, do your words carry the same weight as his?”

“I represent the Holy Pope in these discussions. Of course, everything I say reflects the Holy State’s position.”

“Then my words are equivalent to those of the great Emperor. I’m here as his ‘representative.’”

I shifted my gaze between the King and the Holy State’s envoy before continuing.

“If what you’ve said here truly represents the Holy State’s official position, are you willing to take responsibility for every word spoken today?”

“Of course. That’s why I’m here. Doesn’t the same apply to you, Princess?”

“I wouldn’t dare lie in the presence of His Majesty, the King of Belbur.”

The King’s eyebrow twitched slightly when I referred to him as “His Majesty,” but I ignored it and continued.

“Then, on the authority of the Emperor, I have a question for both of you.”

I looked directly at them, focusing on the envoy.

“Have you had any discussions outside of this tripartite summit? I’m curious whether everything I’ve seen and heard here represents the full scope of your dialogue, or if there are other, secret alliances being forged behind the scenes.”

“...”

I didn’t harbor any ill will toward the King, so I felt a little bad for putting him in an awkward position. But watching the Holy State’s envoy’s face stiffen was quite amusing.

Not that I expected them to admit anything. They would form their alliance regardless.

“Do you have any basis for such a question? If you’re invoking the Emperor’s authority, you should be prepared for the consequences of your words,” the King asked with a serious expression.

“Do I need a basis? We’re discussing military alliances here. Isn’t it only fair to confirm whether all discussions are truly for the benefit of all three parties, or if one nation is being left out?”

“...”

Neither of them responded to my question.

It was a weak argument, full of holes, but I had made it clear that I spoke with the authority of the Emperor. That made it difficult for them to flatly deny my words. Doing so would be an official rejection, and if it came to light later, they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

Of course, this wouldn’t be enough to break their alliance. They were masters of saying nothing without actually saying anything, so they’d never outright deny or confirm anything. Later, they could claim, “We never said that.”

“If I may ask again,”

The Holy State’s envoy broke the silence.

“Does the Empire truly intend to adopt the Goddess Religion as its state religion?”

“I’m afraid that decision would require the approval of the Imperial Assembly. I cannot give a definitive answer.”

A double-edged response.

On the surface, it appeared as though the executive powers of the Emperor and the legislative powers of the Assembly were separate, and thus the Emperor couldn’t make the decision unilaterally. But in reality, the Assembly was just a rubber stamp for the Emperor’s will. Anyone paying attention could easily figure that out.

Just moments ago, I had spoken as if I had the full authority of the Emperor, only to now backtrack by blaming the Assembly.

The two men in front of me must have been seething.

But what could they do?

The Emperor’s authority loomed behind me.

And frankly, I didn’t care about the Empire’s reputation in this situation. If the Emperor had cared, he wouldn’t have sent me here in the first place.

As I lifted my teacup again, the two men stared at me for a while.

What? Why? What more is there to say?

If you’ve got more to discuss, go ahead and talk amongst yourselves.

After all, an “evil empire” doesn’t get that reputation for nothing, right?