Chapter 3: Weakness

“Palermo, I think we should stop dwelling on those annoying topics, okay? Wouldn’t it be better to talk about something more interesting? Why not share your thoughts? I mean your personal views, not Kakiya’s. Nicosia doesn’t need people who are overambitious but incapable; it needs those who are down-to-earth and can truly contribute to Nicosia.”
“Komer, are you saying I should abandon Kakiya and join your camp?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. In fact, whether you join or not doesn’t make much of a difference, because the overall situation can’t be changed by one person. I believe you understand this.”
“Then what do you want me to say?”
“No, it’s not what I want you to say. It’s whether you don’t think there’s something you could say or do. Nicosia might need some change,” Komer said with a sense of resignation, his tone filled with emotion.
Palermo gave the man, who wasn’t that much older, a complex look. Ever since he sought to gain control over the three regions, this man had embarked on a path of solitude, without looking back, step by step. Along the way, he had navigated among various forces, seizing every opportunity to grow stronger. Now, he had broken free from all constraints and could come out of the shadows openly, even discussing others’ fates as if nothing had changed.
It all seemed like a dream.
“Komer, I don’t know where you want to go, but you should understand that a dynasty can’t be built solely through force. Our human society isn’t made up of barbarians; we value civilization and law. We have beliefs and traditions. Force can destroy civilization, but it can’t create it. If you want what you desire, you’ll need to carefully consider what you really need right now.”
Nodding silently, Komer realized that those with clear minds already understood this. Whether it was Palermo or Zelin, although they hadn’t stated it explicitly, they had all hinted at it. This was precisely his weakness. To change it, he often had to make compromises. Of course, compromises could sometimes yield more benefits.
Palermo left gracefully.

He didn’t get anything he wanted; to be precise, he failed to secure any tangible gains for Kakiya. Komer wasn’t a magnanimous man, and although Kakiya’s duplicitous behavior was largely out of necessity, it at least gave him an excuse to no longer bear any moral responsibilities. The Zuck Valley and Livonia—now even if they were given to him, Komer had no interest in them. If necessary, he could take them by force; why accept favors from others?

Zerin’s indirect submission had lifted a heavy burden from Komer’s shoulders. As for the specific methods to use to resolve things, Komer hadn’t yet decided, but that was no longer an issue. In Silesia, the Ferdinand family was more eager, so perhaps greater gains could be obtained there. Of course, Komer didn’t intend to go too far, as that might drive them toward the orcs. At least for now, the Silesian people’s hostility toward orcs was much stronger than their hostility toward him—this was his advantage.

Perhaps it was time to consider the issue of faith within his territory. His vague faith policy seemed to imply a laissez-faire attitude, with religious freedom becoming the dominant trend in his realm. While this prevented the Light Church from taking the most extreme measures against him, it also left the Dark faction ambiguous in their attitude toward him, an acknowledged tyrant—especially evident as he pursued the conquest of Nicomedia.

“This isn’t a matter of faith, Lord Komer,” Reby said calmly. “It’s about what foundation your rule will be built upon. The Light Church isn’t willing to withdraw from Nicomedia, the increasingly powerful Order of Salvation seeks to expand its influence here, and the Dark faction sees this as their best opportunity. Everyone wants to gain something from Nicomedia. But the question is: do you really intend to let religious forces dominate this region? What about the nobles and merchants who support you? Although the conflict between the two isn’t evident yet, the expansion of religious forces will inevitably affect the growth of secular powers, and this is already starting to show. I thought you should be aware of it.”

Komer was stunned, then fell into deep thought. Rebrí was right—he had spent too much time focusing on military conquest and neglected these other aspects. The maneuvers of the Salvation Society in the battle of Plovdiv, the seemingly cold yet increasingly eager attitude of the dark forces, and the active involvement of the Church of Light were all reasons enough to draw his attention. Secular and religious matters seemed perpetually difficult to reconcile.

“Rebrí, this is a difficult choice. You know my situation well. My roots in Nicosia aren’t strong, and those nobles have always held deep hostility toward me. Even when I’m sure of victory, they still refuse to cooperate with me—or at best only pretend to submit, remaining defiant at heart. In some cases, I have to rely on religious power to suppress and balance things.”

“Hmm, Komer, it’s good that you realize this. I believe you can handle it. Suppression isn’t the solution; balance is the key. Your current status and strength mean you can only control Nicosia through balance. Only balance can buy you time. To be precise, without the Caucasus and those barbarian forces, you wouldn’t even have the right to play the game of balance. Whether it’s Poznan, Homer, or later on Silesia and Gothenburg, your foundation is far too weak. If you want to truly become the master of Nicosia, you still have a long way to go.”

Rebrí’s words were blunt and direct, and they didn’t sound very pleasant to Komer’s ears. Yet he had to admit there was truth to what he said. Outside the Caucasus, he could hardly control any other place. Take Poznan for example—without Lenta stepping in, it wouldn’t have been able to return to peace so quickly. Homer was more like an empty shell. Perhaps only the more pragmatic Odessans were still willing to accept him to some extent.