Chapter 29 : Saint (1)

It was a bright Wednesday morning when I finished my writing work.

“Hmm, even if the national economy is in shambles, the international shipping network seems to be running fine.”

I picked up today’s morning newspaper and checked the front-page headline.

Printed in a crude, pre-modern quality, the paper read in the continental common language:

[The New World trade fleet returned to Barbina Port two weeks ago. The cargo includes slaves, sugar, and cotton.]

The trade fleet was a massive convoy operated by the Hispania Empire.

A system where Merchant ships belonging to various trading companies or individuals would gather in dozens and regularly conduct business with the colonies.

They followed ocean currents and trade winds, departing twice a year.

“As expected from an empire that dominates the seas. Any other country would have collapsed by now.”

Since the newspaper was published in the Allein Kingdom, there was no further detailed information.

The only related articles were shallow criticisms of the slave trade or insincere condemnations of colonial exploitation.

“Such hypocrisy.”

This was the same kingdom that had locked demihumans in labor camps and expanded its territory for centuries by exterminating other races.

Who were they to criticize?

If they were so righteous, they should at least pass a law banning the slave trade first.

But putting that aside.

There was quite a bit of valuable information hidden within these few lines.

“Bringing in goods alone is meaningless. They need to be processed and sold. That means their domestic distribution system is still functioning…”

The trade fleet was so massive that its total tonnage rivaled that of an entire navy from a lesser nation.

With the escort ships required to fend off pirates and disruptors from the Alcyone Federation, the fleet practically operated like a small naval armada.

Maintaining, repairing, and supplying a convoy of this scale was no small feat.

The moment they docked at any port, they required astronomical amounts of provisions daily—timber, preserved food, rum, repair materials, and so on.

For that to be possible, the logistics network linking the production areas and ports had to remain intact, and the trading guilds needed a stable business environment.

“Miss Kalia, the Hispania Empire is the largest exporter of sugar on the continent, correct?”

“Yes, Instructor. The international trade market is also centered around them.”

And that wasn’t all.

The goods imported by the fleet were mostly luxury items.

High in demand but not all consumed within Hispania itself.

Once acquired, they needed to be transported to major buyers to maximize profit.

“The goods produced on New World plantations with slave labor are mostly traded within Hispania.”

“Because they own all those farms, right?”

“Yes. And no other country on this continent has the ability to produce those items on its own.”

If they were still importing those commodities as usual, and trade volumes hadn’t declined.

Then it was a strong indication that their commercial and distribution infrastructure was still intact.

Even though their national economy had been devastated by floods, and their citizens were suffering, the state itself hadn’t crumbled.

“This means they’ll start dispatching mercenary companies soon. As long as their training is complete, selling them off shouldn’t be an issue.”

As long as the distribution network was stable, they could maintain their army.

Hispania’s military was relatively small but known for its well-trained and well-equipped soldiers.

As soon as new recruits were trained, they would be fully armed and deployed.

Of course, if they were being sent as expendable forces, they might be given subpar treatment.

But since these were supposedly forces meant to aid their allies, they would at least be minimally equipped.

The only real threat would be if the Alcyone Federation intervened and shattered Hispania’s shipping routes.

“Have there been any reports of other countries planning to intervene in the war?”

“Nothing yet. It takes time for official reports from foreign nations, so I can’t give a definitive answer.”

I whispered the question to Kalia, but she seemed unsure.

That probably meant things were fine for now.

Even if someone intervened, there were plenty of ways to spread ideological subversion to counter them.

“Ah, right. After the war, we’ll need to push for colonial independence.”

Come to think of it, dismantling the colonial system in the New World might be necessary.

Should I spread Bolívarism or Maoism?

*****

Regardless, the fact that one of the key players in this grand

war—Hispania—was still in good shape was excellent news.

At least, for the Kram Empire and the Navre Kingdom.

Especially now, as the previously hesitant nations were finally joining the fray.

[Artium Empire launches a major offensive in northeastern Navre Kingdom.]

The eastern bear had finally lifted its heavy rear and committed its forces to the front lines.

According to the newspaper, they had deployed over 80,000 troops—a substantial force by the standards of this era.

[Our reliable allies are charging forth like a storm, smashing through dozens of border fortresses!

Advancing like a tempest toward the enemy capital!

Armed with righteous conviction and the unwavering camaraderie of our alliance, their blades are unstoppable, and no obstacle can stand in their way—]

They weren’t even official allies, yet the propaganda was in full swing.

While the article was riddled with war support rhetoric, it seemed they were achieving some degree of success.

Given their sheer size, it was somewhat expected.

“An army of 80,000 is enough to influence the war’s course.”

According to intelligence reports, they had indeed seized a fair number of defensive positions and gained some victories.

However, the number of enemy troops they had actually destroyed or the key strategic locations they had secured was minimal.

That was because the Navre forces had deliberately executed a strategic retreat, abandoning certain fortifications while sacrificing their rearguard units.

In other words, the Artium forces were mostly pillaging empty forts.

“Do they even have proper reinforcements lined up?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m just worried about how well they’ll fight.”

I had mentioned this before—the Artium Empire was an absolutely terrible aggressor in warfare.

Not because their soldiers were weak, but because their geography was a complete nightmare.

In spring, the thaw would turn the land into a swampy mess, and their absurdly vast territory made supply lines excruciatingly long.

As a result, they performed decently in defensive battles but were utterly incompetent in offensive wars.

And now, they had supposedly deployed a 100,000-strong army for an expedition?

Did they really have the capability to sustain such a force?

“They’ll probably get food supplies from allies, right?”

“That seems likely, Instructor. Or they could purchase provisions from neighboring friendly states.”

Food and supplies could be managed one way or another.

Even if their homeland couldn’t provide enough, the Allein Kingdom was right next door and would gladly support them.

After all, they wouldn’t let their meat shield starve.

“But proper logistics aren’t the only issue.”

“Well, they are an empire. Why not trust them for once?”

“I wish I could.”

However, I had no faith in their ability to reinforce casualties, maintain clear command structures, or provide competent leadership.

The moment they suffered even one battlefield defeat and their local command fell apart, their army would collapse from an expeditionary force into an unmanageable horde.

It was practically a law of pre-modern warfare—a poorly coordinated army degenerates into a chaotic, lawless mob.

“I’ll have to keep an eye on them for now.”

Of course, if they kept winning, this wouldn’t be a problem.

But that was about as likely as finding out that the damn Goddess was actually benevolent.

For now, I had no choice but to monitor the situation.

“Is it about time?”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I folded my newspaper and rang the bell on my desk.

“Alright, time’s up, everyone. Hand in your papers, starting from the back.”

“What? Already?”

“Instructor, please! Just five more minutes! I was almost done!”

Cries of despair erupted across the classroom.

Today was the day for a pop quiz in finance.

I had been teaching for over a month now, and it was time to test my students’ knowledge.

“There are no exceptions. Put down your pens and pass your papers forward.”

Unfortunately for them, I showed no mercy.

They had 90 minutes to solve problems at the level of a high school sophomore midterm.

First-year economics majors could solve these mentally.

“I’ll post the graded results next Monday. For Thursday’s lecture, we’ll cover graphs and basic probability theory, so review your handouts in advance.”

“Understood…”

“Damn, I failed this semester too.”

As the students reluctantly packed their things and left, I overheard an interesting conversation.

“By the way, isn’t the Saintess arriving next week?”

“Already? I thought she was coming next month.”

“As she is touring the capital diocese, she decided to visit a little earlier.”

A Saint, huh.

Wasn’t she supposed to be a symbolic figure of the Goddess’ Order?

A noble representative on earth, personally granted divine power by that damned Goddess.

Well, it has nothing to do with me.

There’s no reason for us to cross paths anyway.

If she’s coming to the academy, I might as well just watch the welcome ceremony from a distance.

*****

At least, that’s what I thought.

But I found myself facing an unexpected visitor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Instructor. My name is Saint Joan. I’ll be in your care for a while.”

Political science courses don’t accept transfer students, though.