The Incompetent Emperor Who Changes the World from the Shadows: Iron, Gunpowder, and the Young Maidens of Favor - Chapter 26: Peace Strategies and the Fork of Realism

Chapter 26: Peace Strategies and the Fork of Realism

“…I’m sorry.

It was a foolish request.”

I notice Iris saying this, bowing her head.

My long silence must have made her think I was angry.

“No, I was just thinking.

It’s a naive wish, but not impossible to achieve.”

“R-Really?”

Her face lights up with a hopeful smile.

But I have to temper that hope.

“However, war can’t be stopped through honest means.

The best I can offer is a ‘facade of peace.’”

“A facade of peace?”

A shadow crosses her face, sensing something ominous.

“You don’t think nations can truly get along, do you?

Resources, ethnicity, economics, and national desires are tangled up—it’s not simple.

No country would sacrifice its people to enrich another.

Would you order your citizens to suffer for another nation’s prosperity?”

“…I couldn’t do that.”

“Resources are limited, cultures differ.

Even within a single nation, civil wars erupt.

In such a world, ending war isn’t easy.

You must know that.”

“…Yes.”

Iris nods weakly, perhaps realizing the naivety of her ideas.

“In this world, completely eliminating war is impossible.

But for a limited time—say, our lifetimes—and under the condition of ‘making it seem peaceful to the people,’ it might be feasible.”

Even that would be incredibly difficult.

“What kind of method?”

“One is obvious: unify the world.

If there’s only one nation, there’d be no wars.”

It’s a simplistic idea, but the difficulty is borderline insane.

“Yes, my grandfather once believed in that.”

“But that doesn’t stop civil wars.

The anger of conquered people never fades.”

“Then what can be done?”

Iris asks, her voice filled with expectation.

“Well, instead of unifying nations, unify their economies.

Or rather, make them so complex and chaotic they’re inseparable.

Create an economic system so intertwined that no one can break free without collapsing.”

The goal isn’t mutual prosperity but mutual dependence—a system where attacking another nation means self-destruction.

One misstep, and it crumbles.

My original world was like that: a fragile peace built on a shaky tower of complexity.

“Will that bring peace?”

“Permanent peace is impossible, but a temporary one—during our lifetimes, a modest peace—might be achievable.”

Even maintaining that would be a struggle.

“Temporary…

Still, if it stops conflict, it’s worth trying.”

“But if there’s a nation that ignores economics or its people, it could attack others unilaterally.”

“Yes.

Selfish people exist everywhere, and they can’t be eradicated.”

“That’s why I’m planning a two-pronged safety net.”

“You have a method?

What is it?”

“Well… it’s still in the planning stage, but one way is to control through ‘information.’

Establish a global intelligence network to detect tensions early and nip conflicts in the bud.”

“I see.

Acting quickly could prevent actions that lead to war.”

It’s a sophisticated political tactic, like spy movie espionage.

It’s tough, but far better than world conquest.

“The other is to intimidate with overwhelming power.”

“Intimidate…

That’s an unsettling word.”

“Some leaders are unhinged.

Logical negotiations don’t work with those who defy reason.

You have to intimidate them on their level.”

“How?”

“It’s still in preparation.

Military force, financial pressure, or physically halting their actions…”

The last is a last resort: assassination.

I’d rather avoid it.

Killing someone just brings a successor.

Ultimately, I’d use the “nuclear” technology developed for Sopina’s return to silence them.

In my era, nuclear powers were rarely attacked.

“…”

Iris falls silent, perhaps despairing that achieving a world without sorrow still requires bloodshed.

Sticking to justice without dirtying your hands contradicts that ideal.

But what I’m pursuing isn’t “justice.”

“Don’t think too deeply.

Assassination is a last resort.

Ideally, we’d incite the people to condemn them without direct action.”

“That’s still a cruel method.”

I know it’s harsh, but if it’s the only way, I’ll use it without hesitation.

Iris, still anxious, asks again.

“Your Majesty, you’re truly aiming for peace, right?”

“Peace for self-preservation.

It just happens to ensure the people’s safety.

Ultimately, I’m considering shifting this country to democracy for a stable retirement.”

“Democracy… like the republic in Rontesia?”

“That’d work, but a smoother transition would be a constitutional monarchy.”

“A constitutional monarchy?

What’s that?”

“It’s not much different from now.

The emperor is a figurehead—‘reigning but not ruling.’

But in this country, an emperor could seize control if they wanted.

A constitution would limit that, giving power to the people.”

“I see, a government by the people, with the emperor as a symbol.”

“I want to stay out of politics to take it easy.

But to achieve peace, I need to look at the whole world, not just one nation.

It’s a tough road to that easy life.”

“…It sounds daunting.

But why go so far for democracy?”

“The biggest reason is succession.

My children will inevitably get caught in heir disputes.

Even if they win, an incapable child could ruin the nation.

If they’re incompetent, they’ll be used; if they’re clever but narrow-minded, it’s worse.

So, I’ll build a system where the emperor can’t hold power.”

“You’ve thought that far…”

Iris closes her eyes, her face serious as she ponders.

After a moment, she speaks.

“You can’t save people with kindness alone, can you?

I understand.

I’ll resolve myself to be the emperor’s wife.”

To ease her tense heart, I share the benefits of being my wife.

“So, Iris, you don’t need to worry if you don’t have children or if you don’t bear a son.

You can live comfortably in this palace.”