Chapter 14: The Roman Empire’s Critical Juncture and the Elf Fen

For the Roman Empire, the rising power across the sea recently became a significant threat.

Compared to the elves, who were steeped in tradition and ancient practices, guarding their forests with longbows since the dawn of humanity a millennium ago, through the era five hundred years back when humans had just entered tribal societies with homemade short bows, and even three years ago, when the Roman Empire started to build steam factories, which have since been dismantled, the elves remained steadfast in their old ways.

Isugard, in contrast, was a burgeoning empire much like the Roman Empire. Ruled by a vampire alleged to be over a hundred years old, Isugard had steadily expanded its territory, eventually uniting the entire continent under its banner.

Presently, Isugard showed no signs of halting its expansionist ambitions. Moreover, it was probable that the scholars who fled to Isugard through the port had informed their new sovereigns about certain aspects of the Roman Empire.

Leaving aside the impact of these scholars for the moment, the Imperial Council perceived Isugard as a prudent empire. While their desire to turn the Roman Empire into a colony was no secret, if they perceived the Roman Empire as still prosperous and strong, their likely course of action would be to maintain limited trade relations while shifting their attention to other nations on different continents.

However, the situation could take a drastic turn if Isugard came to realize that the Roman Empire was essentially a house of cards.

There was no need to wait for a move from the Elven Kingdom. Isugard’s warships could swiftly ravage the coastal regions of the Roman Empire. Using these areas as a base, they could steadily advance inland, occupying the entire Roman Empire without pausing their relentless march.

General Dreycar, who represented the military faction, couldn’t deny the reality. The overall military prowess of the Roman Empire was in decline, despite his best efforts to provide optimal treatment and status to his officers and soldiers.

Aware of the looming threat from across the sea, General Dreycar couldn’t contain his frustration, standing up to voice his concern with a deep, angry growl.

“This is precisely why we need those steam factories back! Without the quality gear they produced, we won’t stand a chance against Isugard’s navy and infantry, let alone our own rebellious peasantry.”

“A reminder, General Dreycar,” interjected a nobleman, “the steam factories you refer to were essentially dismantled following the Regent’s exile. And currently, we’re facing a shortage of workers. The complexity of operating those machines is far beyond what our serfs can handle.”

“Then at the very least, we must ensure a steady supply of arms and equipment. What good is it to pretend that Dreke Port is thriving? We can maintain the facade for a year, but can we keep up the pretense when the Elven Kingdom attacks?” General Dreycar continued.

The nobleman replied, “That’s a measure of desperation. Even if we use every magician to change the weather in the central regions, at best we’d manage a scant month of rainfall for a limited area. Our funds are stretched thin on food, there’s simply no room in the budget for military supplies.”

Finally, turning his gaze to the silent church leader, General Dreycar challenged, “Archbishop Peter, are you still going to stay silent at this critical moment?”

General Dreycar found himself in a state of utter helplessness, as the Roman Empire was now grappling with two dire crises. 

The first was a food shortage. The empire’s grain reserves could sustain them for, at best, half a year. The drought’s impact might lead to a nationwide famine in the latter half of the year.

The Roman Empire had to allocate its finances for food procurement, lest they perish from hunger, leaving no resources to fend off potential aggressors.

The second crisis was industrial. The closure of all steam factories, though it reinstated jobs for lower-class craftsmen, left the empire without the financial means to commission them for weapon and equipment production. There was also no capability to match the output efficiency of the factories.

The dilemma stemmed from the military standards established post-empire formation, based on the production capacity of steam factories.

This left the empire in a deadlock.

Even the forces under General Dreycar’s command, by current Roman standards, had over a quarter of their soldiers armed only with swords, rendering them supporting forces at best.

In the remaining three-quarters, over half were equipped with merely inexpensive leather armor, some of which were ancient family heirlooms, far from the standard-issue armor.

In stark contrast, the Elven Kingdom’s army boasted an armor rate exceeding 90% for its troops, who also had access to multiple backup weapons.

Though their numbers paled in comparison to the total manpower of the Roman Empire, each Elven Kingdom soldier was an elite, honed through decades of rigorous training.

With these daunting challenges ahead, what was the Roman Empire to do? A hush fell over the room, their eyes eventually converging on Archbishop Peter, whose expression had undergone a dramatic shift.

The two aforementioned issues were the Roman Empire’s death knells. At their core, they could be broadly attributed to a simple problem, a lack of funds.

In essence, with sufficient financial resources, the Roman Empire could potentially sustain itself for another two or three years.

However, the current dilemma was that everyone except Archbishop Peter was financially drained. Even if the nobles and landlords sold all their assets, they couldn’t raise enough money to cover General Dreycar’s military expenses and the royal family’s urgent need to purchase grain.

The Church, on the other hand, had ample resources.

The Church of Light, having almost entirely stripped its followers of their wealth and accruing more funds through various means such as forgetting promises or eliminating the concerned parties, was flush with resources. Archbishop Peter had the greatest wealth in the Roman Empire. The daily maintenance costs of the grand St. Peter’s Cathedral he had built exceeded the monthly salary of General Dreycar’s entire army.

He even had the financial capacity to construct an underground cathedral adorned with gold for himself. 

If only he would agree to open his coffers, the immediate crisis facing the Roman Empire could be temporarily alleviated.

Yet, convincing Archbishop Peter, the most miserly religious figure, to part with his money was a substantial challenge in itself.

Thus began the most intense debate in the history of the Imperial Council.

Outside, the moon illuminated the clear, cloudless night sky, foretelling several more weeks of unrelenting dry weather.

***

However, in the Elven Kingdom’s forest capital, the Sky Garden of Fingal, the scene was one of thick clouds.

Fen sat on her throne and gazed at the clouds obscuring the bright moonlight from the observation deck and sighed deeply. 

“Kenna, inform me of the Regent’s current whereabouts.”

“Fen, he has already left the Roman Empire’s border with the last Purple Princess of the Bayerzost Empire and is currently moving through the Monster Forest. However, we are not sure if he will head toward the Elven Kingdom.”

“Whether or not he comes to the Elven Kingdom, he remains our most honored and respected guest. The same goes for the Purple Princess. The sacrifices the Bayerzost Empire once made for the continent of Elusia are remembered clearly even by those ignorant beastfolks. So do not interfere with them; it is better that they come willingly rather than us forcing them to come.”

“Yes.”

“You may leave now. Before the unexpected early spring snowfall, I wish to be alone.”

“Yes.”

With her attendant gone, Fen of the Elven Kingdom left her throne and gracefully moved to the viewing platform, her movements as light as a dance.

For Fen, the reform of the Elven Kingdom was urgent and necessary. She had to complete the transformation of the Elven Kingdom before the next demonic scourge, or it would spell doom for the elves.

But this was a daunting task for Fen.

Even as the Fen of the Elven Kingdom, in human terms, the sole emperor of the state, the transformation of the Elven Kingdom was immensely challenging due to the stubbornness and whimsical nature of her race.

Thousands of years ago, the elves used longbows to protect their homeland. Humans at that time were allied with the Bayerzost Empire, their brethren, fighting side by side against the demonic scourge at the front lines.

A thousand years ago, the Bayerzost Empire fell due to the demonic scourge’s infiltration. The last emperor sank his city underground, burying his people and the monsters of the calamity. Lost to history ever since. Even then, the elves continued to use longbows.

Centuries ago, as tribes emerged and barbarian Khans ravaged the southern plains, the elves persisted in their traditions, safeguarding their land with ancient longbows.

Five years ago, under the guidance of the Regent, the Roman Empire had transformed from a conglomeration of tribes into a formidable empire. Yet, the elves clung to their millennia-old longbows.

The essence of the elves was sheer perfection.

Their millennia-old equipment still appeared exquisitely beautiful, seemingly devoid of any need for improvement, simply because it was too perfect from the beginning.

This wasn’t limited to their weapons, even the societal structure and lifestyle of the elves were so impeccably unchangeable.

It was this very unchangeability that had tethered the entire elven nation to a past of perfection, from which they couldn’t extricate themselves.

This realization solidified Fen’s conviction that it was time for the elves to evolve.

The perfection of yesteryears would only hinder the race’s future prospects. Yet, the specifics of this transformation–what to do, which direction to take–were a challenge for Fen. She had tried hard for a long time yet to no avail.

The elves resonated with Fen’s vision for change, but ensnared in their own perfection, they found themselves unable to break free from this vicious cycle and oversee the bigger picture.

Deprived of an external perspective, they remained indulged in their idealistic perfection, unable to detach.

However, the Roman Empire’s expulsion of the Regent sparked a new ray of hope for her.

“His Majesty the Regent, a once-in-a-millennium prodigy of the human realm. Sadly, those he led were not truly humans, but barbarians cloaked in human guise, fundamentally grounded in tribal ideologies. Despite the intelligence of some, the collective worldview remained entrenched in the era of tribalism.”

Fen, as if performing a solo in an opera, spoke in a melodious, hauntingly clear voice, her eyes filled with respect as she watched the dark clouds above.

“He is not meant for that country. Even if he managed to forcibly unite a collection of tribes into an empire, the empire’s essence would still need centuries to catch up to his vision. But the elves can. The elves need him, are willing to welcome him, and are ready to pay a significant price for him. Ah… I was even prepared to pay the ultimate price during the border negotiations to bring him to my court. Yet, astonishingly, for their own interests, the Roman Empire exiled him of their own accord. I’ve heard that the Roman royal family even severed the young empress’s tongue. True barbarians. Filthy barbarians.”

Fen gently closed her lips, a subtle blend of coral and ivory. In the distance, the first snowflakes began to fall over Fingal, the Elven Kingdom’s capital.

***

Simultaneously, in the Monster Forest on the outskirts of Count Kagard’s domain in the Roman Empire, snow had begun to fall, and night had long since enveloped the land.

Yang Hao and the shivering Sister Teresa had finally found a cave that offered refuge from the wind and rain. This weary duo, deprived of a good night’s sleep for several days, could at last take a moment to rest.