I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Chapter 169: Krafte War - The Choice (2)

“You, whom we have believed in… are you truly on Francia’s side?”

The moment I closed my eyes at Nicolas Brisseau's question, the long-forgotten voice of Raphaël Valliant came to mind.

-They do not properly understand the Marquis's worth. Your loyalty and devotion are too precious to be offered to those who, consumed by their own idealism, fail to see reality.

I had denied his words then.

-What reward is there for the sacrifices you and your followers have made, all for the sake of the mold that leeches off your devotion?

After rationalizing by forcefully denying his words, I returned to Lumiere and saw a blood-soaked Christine.

-The Marquis, simply by existing, is a being who shakes the very meaning of the revolution. I do not know how things will be when war is at hand, but once the Marquis's usefulness is exhausted, they will surely try to eliminate you.

I witnessed the chaos of the revolution.

I saw a man pursuing his ambition amidst it.

I also saw a man who gave his life for the revolution and perished.And I saw those who, inheriting his will, tried to protect the revolution.

That is why I denied Valliant's final words and have come this far.

Believing the revolution would be a better path, I enthroned Eris, protected them, and came this far.

Inwardly, I believed many things had changed.

And yet, after going around and around, are we back at the starting point?

The revolution is only their revolution, and I am ultimately just an impurity caught in their midst?

Even now, when I close my eyes, the image of Christine, shot by a demon’s bullet and stained with blood, comes to mind. And now I am accused of having joined hands with those demons.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the document Nicolas Brisseau was holding in his hand.

A ledger showing the sale of a large quantity of raw materials that Christine and I had purchased just before the industrial revolution to Abyss Corporation.

…Probably a copy.

The first thing I did after regressing was to save Christine and avoid the coming revolution and destruction.

Without that, Christine would not have wielded such enormous financial power, and it would have been difficult for me to be active in the civil war.

But to those unaware of the details, it would be easy to think we had joined hands with demons and enjoyed cornering the market while the kingdom burned in civil war.

“…It is true that we traded raw materials with Abyss Corporation during the civil war.”

In any case, many nobles had traded with Abyss Corporation during the civil war. The problem was the unusually large scale of our transaction and the profit margin.

However.

Trying to calm my boiling insides, I looked at Nicolas Brisseau to gauge him and opened my mouth.

“I do not understand, Director-General Brisseau. Why did you come?”

That document alone cannot prove guilt, but if the commander-in-chief of the Revolutionary Army and the admiral are accused of collaborating with demons, it is enough to have them temporarily removed from their positions and investigated.

And once suspicions are raised and they are put on trial, in Francia where demons are loathed, those who want to bring me or Christine down can easily incite others.

You do not have to be guilty of a clear crime to be punished, as the innocents who died during the revolution and... the Eris before the regression prove.

So the moment Nicolas Brisseau got his hands on that document, all he had to do was condemn me in the National Assembly.

He had enough symbolism and influence that alone would have made the assemblymen rise up like wildfire and tear me and Christine apart.

The Revolutionary and Liberty parties, not to mention the Central Party, have more than enough assemblymen who are dissatisfied that too much attention is focused on me and Christine and that we are following a somewhat independent path.

There is no reason at all to come all the way to the battlefield, risk danger, and confront me in private.

“I’m sure you are aware of what I did in Lumiere.”

“I know, I know well. There is no one in the National Assembly who has forgotten that you, in a fit of rage, slaughtered assemblymen in the middle of Lumiere.”

I had said I would protect their revolution, but that was ultimately for my people who would live in it.

My people are the top priority, and above all, Christine. I have sworn never to sacrifice them again.

If Christine were put on trial by the National Assembly under such charges.

If there were a danger that she would be branded as a witch who collaborated with demons and executed like the Eris before the regression.

To avoid the worst, I would choose the lesser evil.

If necessary, I would wipe out the National Assembly to prevent that.

Eris would be sad.

But at the same time, I know that even Eris would understand why I had no choice, and though her heart would ache, she would not be able to stop me with all her might.

“If you truly suspect that I have joined hands with the demons, then the Director-General should not have come here. If you were to expose this, you should have done so in Lumiere, behind my back, when I was unaware. Why did you come here, knowing what I, who have now found out about this, might do?”

Nicolas Brisseau answered calmly,

“I just wanted to see with my own eyes.”

“See?”

What?

Instead of answering my question, Brisseau continued.

“After receiving this, I thought for a long time.”

I recalled how Brisseau had been strangely absent-minded since before we set out for this war.

Hah. Was it given to him just before the Krafte war?

“Why now, and why me, of all people? …Who sent this? I have thought about it a lot.”

Brisseau raised his half-cold coffee, took a sip, then gave a bitter smile.

“It was obvious why it had to be me. A mere assemblyman would have been afraid of your power and would not have dared to speak up, or would have given it to the Director-General. Count Anjou of the Central Party would not be without complaints, but he has too much to lose and has received too much from you to lead in stabbing you in the back.”

The man, who had been Director-General for a long time despite his weak presence, was grasping the situation quite accurately.

“Talleyrand of the Revolutionary Party, well. They already have sufficient power in the National Assembly, and I don't think those who know Saint-Just's end best would be willing to take risks in the middle of a war. Unless they could use this to get something more from you.”

Even though it was about him, and even though he did not know what decision I would make in this very room, his voice was calm.

“A group caught between the Revolutionary and Central parties, whose colors are weak and who have many complaints, and who, because they had little to begin with, have little to lose and could gain the most definite advantage from this situation. …That was the Liberty Party.”

As he said that, Brisseau's lips were full of self-deprecation.

“It is also clear why now. If you were to win the war against Krafte, you would be too perfect a hero to be brought down by mere suspicion of a connection to demons. If that were to happen, what meaning would a scrap of paper like this have?”

Nicolas Brisseau was silent for a while, then asked me,

“Marquis, could Krafte have obtained this document?”

“…I can't be sure, but I think it would be difficult.”

I don't know if the mastermind was Krafte or not. But even Christine had not noticed at all.

The Liberty Party has shown a moderate stance with a lukewarm attitude so far. It's unreasonable to have monitored them in advance, predicting they would find a clue making them feel they had a chance to win and turn against us at once.

No, in the first place, while assuming an intelligence war with Krafte, the possibility that my actions before the revolution would be used as a weakness was not even considered.

Still, if this was the work of Krafte, then their obtaining this information is likely the clandestine work of demons.

Nicolas Brisseau looked at me intently and spoke.

“Marquis, would you listen to an old man’s rambling?”

When I nodded silently, Brisseau began to speak slowly.

“I have never dared to look into the eyes of those sacrificed to the revolution.”

“…”

“In the chaos, the embers we had kindled turned into a great flame, running wild, and I trembled in fear of that madness devouring everything.”

Brisseau laughed softly.

“That is why, when nobles willing to join the Republic of their own accord, without staining this land with blood, appeared, I was very relieved.”

To me, Nicolas Brisseau was not an important figure.

“When you stopped the persecution about to take place in the west, even shouldering the political burden, I was happy.”

A connection with the revolutionary government, someone I cooperated with to check the radical faction that held the majority during the revolution…

“…When you, in a fit of rage after nearly losing Countess Aquitaine, did something no different from those radicals, I despaired.”

And even that connection, after the Central Party had established itself and defeated Valliant, had lost its value—a man of ambiguous relationship.

“But in the end, you sided with the Republic. You protected the revolution against that Raphaël Valliant, and even though you could have overthrown the National Assembly if you had wanted to, you have been fighting on the battlefields, protecting Francia until now.”

Nicolas Brisseau's gaze as he looked at me was filled with unfathomably complex emotions.

“At some point, I realized. The Francia that the Marquis has created, sometimes joining forces with and sometimes checking the National Assembly, has become quite similar to what we had dreamed of in that madness and chaos.”

Nicolas Brisseau was silent for a moment, looking at me, before speaking again.

“But, why. I had certainly longed for that chaos to be consumed and for the madness to stop. I must have only hoped that Francia would unite as one and face the crisis. But neither I, nor the members of the Liberty Party, could be happy.”

Now Brisseau’s gaze was directed not at me, but towards Lumiere.

“It has certainly come closer to the image we aimed for, but perhaps because it is not an achievement we accomplished ourselves. Because in the revolution we started, hating the old regime, we allowed a noble who had rolled in to achieve what we dreamed of.”

Is this a speech to his followers?

“…So that must be why I was so envious. They say power is a frightening thing, and it really is. When I had none, I would have just hoped for the world to get better, but now that I have power, all I feel is inadequacy. It is like salt water, the more you drink, the thirstier you get…”

Or is it a speech to himself?

The man who had been a respected lawyer before the revolution let out the lament of a thoroughly old man, then slowly rose.

“I do not know much about war. Some say we were able to win because of the Marquis, and some say it was only the achievement of Her Majesty the Queen and the other subordinates, and the Marquis’s role was insignificant.”

Brisseau, holding the document, took a step, then turned to look at me and opened his mouth.

“So, for the first time. I have come to look into the eyes of a person who might be sacrificed by what we are about to do.”

“…And have you found your answer?”

Instead of answering my question, Nicolas Brisseau responded with a slightly trembling expression.

“I do not know. I am not certain. If not now, the opportunity to oust the Marquis will never come again. Perhaps this is also the last chance for the Liberty Party to seize power. …I may be a foolish leader, and an irresponsible one.”

Brisseau, having finished speaking, stared at the document in his hand and then thrust it into the burning fireplace.

“...But as we stand before a motherland where the madness and chaos we dreamed of have ceased, I do not think we, filled with greed and discontent, can do better than you after ousting you.”

Was it a moment of hesitation? Brisseau, his hand trembling slightly, pushed the document into the flames.

The old man, staring blankly at the flames devouring the paper, slowly turned his head to me and opened his mouth.

“…So, this is my choice, Marquis. A gamble, made in the belief that you, who have protected the revolution and the National Assembly, which had only harbored suspicion and wariness towards you, until now, will continue to do so.”

Brisseau slowly sank into his seat, his face full of uncertainty and anxiety, and spoke as if pleading.

“This foolish old man’s arbitrary decision. …Will you make it so that I will not regret this choice?”