Do Your Own Revolution

#070

Boom-! Boom-! Boom-!

Along with the resonant drum beats, the military band’s march filled the center of the Imperial Capital.

It was the victory ceremony for the Imperial Army returning from their great triumph.

At the very front of the march were the Special Magical Power Unit members in their pristine uniforms.

Standing at the forefront were the trio and Erich.

Leopold and the non-commissioned officers followed behind, and finally, the soldiers wearing their respective rank insignias joined them.

“The Empire’s heroes! They’re heroes-!”

“Waaah–!”

The flower petals scattered by citizens adorned the bright sky of the Imperial Capital.

Clean military uniforms instead of prison clothes.

The citizens’ cheers of praise instead of guards’ shouts signaling forced labor.

Even flower necklaces hanging instead of heavy shackles.

“Ugh…!”

Whether overcome by their pent-up emotions, several soldiers furrowed their brows and held back tears behind the rank formation.

A second chance they thought would never come again.

As they physically felt fragments of that moment, something welled up in their hearts.

“What’s this? Are you crying?”

“Shut up…!”

“Don’t cry like a baby. You should be happy instead.”

While grabbing his marching comrade’s shoulder, one soldier smiled, showing his teeth.

His gaze fell on the Imperial Hero Medal awarded to all Special Magical Power Unit members.

A medal bestowed directly by the Emperor, which came with reward money and promotion opportunities upon conferral.

Even members who had been indifferent, claiming no interest in praise and glory, changed their expressions the moment they received this medal.

“If we get this much just for winning one battle, what our commander said is true.”

If you prove your abilities, I will provide you with imprints, money, and status.

Regardless of social status.

Without exception.

Eugene had promised them that while looking at them, and he kept that promise through this street parade.

“With this opportunity, I’m going to climb higher…!”

Strength unconsciously entered the hand holding the rifle.

What appeared in their eyes was ambition.

The aspiration to climb higher and fulfill their own will.

“How disgusting.”

However, there were eyes looking unfavorably at this glorious parade.

Nobles sitting on the balcony of a high-rise building located on the outskirts of the Imperial Capital.

The magic nobles, each possessing their own magic imprint, began speaking with deeply furrowed brows.

“It’s merely a small victory gained on the frontier! What is the purpose of conducting such a grandiose event for that!”

“The Imperial Army is exaggerating their military achievements. A street parade without the Knight Order, how unpleasant to watch!”

“His Majesty’s intentions in approving this parade are also concerning. To treat the mages who support the Empire in such a manner…”

The nobles’ conversation went beyond questioning achievements to groundless criticism.

Feilun, the second son of Nachtval duchy who was watching from afar, quietly sighed.

‘Such foolish old men.’

Looking at the achievements, what the Imperial Army had accomplished was by no means a small victory.

After all, killing the Republic’s hero and pushing back the entire front line was something even the Knight Order hadn’t achieved.

The nobles criticizing the street parade must have known this fact as well.

Yet the reason they were reacting so sensitively like this…

‘It’s because they’re anxious.’

In a situation where they were already struggling to stop rebels appearing everywhere, the Imperial Army’s prestige was steadily rising.

They were feeling a sense of crisis from the atmosphere that was clearly different from before.

“I never expected you to cause such a major incident in such a short time, junior.”

That someone who once stood on the same battlefield with him had now become a prominent figure leading his own battalion.

Looking at his unbelievable rate of growth, Feilun steeled his resolve.

If his junior who promised future cooperation had grown this much, he too needed to build up strength no less than him.

While listening to the march music from afar, as Feilun was thinking this…

“Looking at their marching, they seem quite well-trained. Their military discipline is well-maintained too.”

“…!”

The man who had been silently watching spoke slowly.

“A mage with five stroke imprints at such a young age. And the ability to raise such a unit…”

The head of the Nachtval Duchy, second seat among the Empire’s 12 Great Magic Nobles. Barthenberg von Nachtval.

When his voice rang out, the voices of other chattering nobles immediately fell silent.

“Feilun.”

“Yes, Patriarch.”

“You were acquainted with that unit’s commander, weren’t you?”

At that moment, Feilun felt a chill run down his spine.

Even for a rising star, how could the lord of Nachtval show interest in Eugene?

Feilun maintained his composure and answered.

“His name is Eugene Lorentz. He’s my junior with whom I’ve built a relationship since military academy.”

“Eugene. That child I met at the execution grounds?”

He knows Eugene?

As Feilun was thinking this, the Duke was carefully observing the marching troops while resting his chin on his hand.

The Duke’s specialty was magical power detection and tracking.

Just by observing from afar, he could gauge the magical power levels of the marching soldiers.

“They’ve implanted low-grade imprints in dregs that fell from the Knight Order and Magic Corps. Indeed, if used like that, they could become quite useful tools.”

The Duke spoke with slight admiration while watching the parade, but he soon lost interest and withdrew his gaze.

“However, that’s all there is worth noting.”

“Y-Your Grace. What do you mean by that…?”

When one of the anxious nobles carefully asked, the Duke spoke in a cold voice.

“I hear the Republic’s army calls them the ‘Devils of Magic Bullets.’ In other words, it means they’ve officially adopted those magic bullets that rebels use.”

“…Ah! Then!”

“A magic imprint using magic bullets couldn’t possibly withstand that burden.”

Most nobles who had fought rebels for a long time knew about the blasphemous items called ‘magic bullets.’

A tool that overloads magic imprints to temporarily boost magical power.

However, when used excessively, the overloaded magic imprint breaks.

“They are merely expendable products hastily created to fill the Knight Order’s vacancy. They cannot compare to knights who have explored and trained in magic for many years.”

After making that assessment, the Duke began gathering the nobles present to continue their unfinished meeting.

A meeting about rebel movements and how to subjugate them.

Their concern was the rebels disturbing their territories, not the Imperial Army’s pathetic self-consolation.

Looking down at the nobles absorbed in their own discussion, Feilun thought.

‘How long can they remain so optimistic?’

The Eugene Lorentz he knew wasn’t someone who would use such obvious tactics.

Therefore, he could be certain.

That unit would surely become the most powerful enemy the magic nobles would face in the future.

An enemy far more powerful than the rebels currently shaking this empire.

***

Imperial Capital Central.

National Cemetery located in the outskirts.

While victory ceremonies and welcome events were being held in the Imperial Capital, I was going around various parts of the capital with several soldiers who had expressed their wish not to participate in the street parade.

“Fire-!”

The ceremonial guns fired regularly at my command.

As the members lowered their rifles after firing, family members dressed in black approached the graves and began wailing.

The graves of eighteen Special Magical Power Unit members who died in this battle.

Wearing my military cap, I saluted their graves and handed over their dog tags wrapped in the Imperial flag to their families.

“Special Magical Power Unit battalion commander, Major Eugene Lorentz reporting. Your husband, son, father fought as a proud member of the Imperial Special Magic Forces and died heroically.”

“Hic, huuk…!”

“The fallen members were honorable Imperial soldiers and heroes who gave their all to protect the Empire. I will do my utmost to improve the treatment of the bereaved families left behind, carrying on the will of our departed comrades.”

Clean Imperial flags were handed to the poor, those who had abandoned their sons, those who looked like beggars.

The fallen soldiers’ comrades maintained solemn expressions, saluted, and offered words of condolence.

“Separate from what comes from Imperial Army headquarters, consolation money will be provided at our unit level. Please… I hope this helps, even if just a little.”

“Thank you…! Thank you…!”

As scenes that made one’s nose bridge sting just by watching unfolded, the journalists I had brought along eagerly captured those moments in photographs.

Seeing even the photographers getting red-eyed, it seemed my direction had worked much better than expected.

‘It’s not common for a commander, let alone a noble, to go this far.’

Unlike 21st century Korea, this is a world where social classes exist.

An era that views citizens and soldiers as tools and considers their sacrifices natural.

In such an era, a commander personally reports casualties to the bereaved families? Personally holds the families’ hands and even sheds tears with them?

To modern eyes it might look like the usual political performance, but to people of this era, it would look like an angel descended from heaven.

‘And such actions will become weapons to protect my position in the future.’

Not binding through weaknesses and threats, but through goodwill and favors.

And simultaneously, gradually gaining the support of the people.

This is how I will steadily establish my position in this empire.

This is insurance.

Whether the revolution succeeds or fails in the future, this will be insurance to protect me and my people.

“Major Eugene Lorentz.”

Just as I finished greeting the bereaved families and was about to send the soldiers who had completed their duties back to the unit.

A man dressed in a black suit approached and spoke to me.

“You are?”

“Pardon me. Imperial Royal Guard Knight, Ricletus Durandal.”

A royal guard knight came looking for me?

If the Emperor had business with me, he would have sent a letter through Andrei?

As I turned my head thinking this, a familiar face was before my eyes.

‘Rictus!’

The characteristically cold impression I had often seen in the game.

With an appearance like a black and white photograph, he politely handed something from inside his jacket.

“What’s this?”

“Two days from now, a banquet will be held at a mansion located in the outskirts of the capital. My master ordered me to definitely deliver this invitation after meeting with the Major.”

While Rictus’s voice carried behind me, I slowly turned over the invitation.

[Baker El Kalhyram.]

The moment I saw that name, the final scene of [Revolution Empire] Part 2 automatically played in my mind.

‘We won’t ask you to understand our decision, Eugene.’

In the cold prison.

The protagonist who had lost everything and was only waiting for death.

‘However, this is absolutely necessary.’

And that detestable tongue speaking coldly while looking down at such a protagonist.

“The Empire’s 7th Prince is looking for me.”

“That is correct.”

When I asked as if confirming, Rictus immediately answered.

That arrogant attitude suggesting it would be foolish to decline the invitation.

Looking at that, I opened my mouth with a smiling face.

“It’s a great honor that you would pay such attention to a mere soldier like me.”

Prince Baker.

Who supports the Revolutionary Army to overcome his low succession rights.

And who succeeds in that gamble to ascend to a scarred throne.

But don’t worry.

“I’ll see you at the banquet.”

Unlike the original story.

You will never sit on the throne.