Chapter 46: The Saint’s Covering Fire

Alphonse’s expression grew even harsher.

He had been utterly crushed by Zeno in the field of economics — a humiliation he could not easily swallow.
But he was not the kind of man to retreat after a single defeat.

“…I will admit,” 

Alphonse began, forcing his voice to remain calm.

“That there may be some truth to what you say — when it comes to economics.”

It was not a concession, but a calculated move — a shift in battlefield.

“But a nation does not live by economy alone! Tell me, Zenon, how do you account for the international situation surrounding our kingdom?”

His voice rang through the audience chamber.

“To our north lies the Galian Empire, ever thirsting for expansion! To defend our borders against their threat, we must maintain a powerful army! And yet your so-called ‘cost reduction’ threatens to cripple our national defense! Is that not a dangerously naive doctrine?”

At once, the nobles of the military faction who backed Alphonse seized their cue.

“Indeed! National defense must always come first!”

“Under Zenon-sama’s methods, the knights’ pride and morale would be trampled into the dirt!”

To them, warfare was not something to be measured by efficiency or numbers.
It was a sacred domain — founded on chivalric pride and the honor of the sword.

Zenon listened to their passionate speeches with his usual cool detachment.
Then, without a word, he unfurled his second presentation document.

It was a detailed map of the Arkwright territory, marked with its border with the Galian Empire.

“You are all misunderstanding the very essence of national defense,” 

Zenon said quietly — words that struck at the foundation of their beliefs.

“National defense is not determined by the number of knights or the sharpness of their blades.
It is sustained by a rational system built upon three pillars: information, logistics, and technology.”

He took up a quill and began marking the map.

“First, information. We will construct watchtowers at regular intervals along the border, each equipped with long-range communication devices developed by magicians. With this network, enemy movements can be transmitted to headquarters in real time. That means we will always know before they do.”

“Next, logistics. We will store provisions and arms in advance at key outposts, and improve the roads so that supply units can reach the front lines in the shortest possible time. The outcome of war is determined before the first battle begins — by the superiority of the supply chain.”

“And lastly, technology.”

For the first time, a faint passion entered Zenon’s tone.

“The age of sword and spear is over. In my domain, magicians are developing new weapons — machines that use magic energy to fire iron projectiles at the speed of sound. We call it the Magitek Cannon. A single unit could annihilate an entire heavy cavalry battalion.”

Information warfare, logistics, and new weaponry — the vision of future warfare Zenon described bore no resemblance to the chivalric, one-on-one ideal Alphonse’s faction revered.

It was a system of bloodless, cold efficiency — a machinery of death designed to minimize cost and maximize result.

“Don’t mock me!” 

Alphonse’s voice trembled with rage.

“That isn’t war — it’s cowardice! Where is the knights’ honor in that?”

“Honor cannot protect a nation, Your Highness.”

Zenon’s reply was sharp and immediate.

“A commander’s duty is to achieve victory with the fewest casualties possible. Would you spill the blood of your soldiers for the sake of your so-called ‘honor’?”

It was an argument both impeccably correct and brutally merciless.
Alphonse found himself at a loss for words.
The noble image of battle he cherished was being dismantled before his eyes by Zeno’s chilling rationality.

The audience chamber fell silent once more.
Even the King and his ministers could find nothing to say.
Everyone present understood that Zenon’s vision — terrifying though it was — was irrefutably sound.

And then, the tense silence was broken — by the last person anyone expected.

From the corner of the hall, where she sat with special permission granted by the King himself,
Saint Liliana quietly rose to her feet.

“…Please, wait.”

Her pure, resonant voice filled the chamber.
Every gaze turned toward her.

Liliana looked straight at Prince Alphonse — and began to speak, reinterpreting Zenon’s “true intent” in her own, utterly unique way.

“Prince Alphonse,” 

She said softly. 

“The knight’s pride and the nation’s traditions you speak of are indeed precious.”

She began by honoring his ideals.

“But what Zenon-sama says is also the truth.”

“…What?”

Liliana pressed a hand to her heart, her expression radiant with compassion.

“Zenon-sama knows better than anyone the weight of human life. That is precisely why he despises war itself.”

“…What?”

Every person in the chamber — including Zenon — stared at her, dumbfounded.

“He wishes to end the tragedy of soldiers suffering and dying needlessly. That is why he speaks such harsh words — he bears that cruelty so that others will not have to. His ‘efficiency’ is, in truth, an expression of his love — his way of saving as many lives as possible!”

The Saint’s impassioned declaration. A cry from the soul — was nothing short of the ultimate super-positive misinterpretation of Zenon’s hyper-rationalism.

His cold, mechanical defense doctrine was now reframed as “a system of love, designed to save lives.”

The audience chamber descended into total chaos.

Alphonse stood frozen, his mind blank from the sheer absurdity of the Saint’s “covering fire.”
Even the King and his ministers began murmuring, half in confusion, half in awe:

“…Could that be true?”

As for Zenon himself—

(She’s hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.)

He gave up trying to understand Liliana entirely.
She was beyond logic — a natural disaster of unpredictability.
To engage her was dangerous; to provoke her was suicide.

“…That concludes my thoughts on national defense.” 

Zenon said flatly, ignoring her speech altogether.

But by then, no one could grasp the original, cold intent of his words anymore.

Thanks to Saint Liliana — the most powerful “interpreter” (and “catastrophic mistranslator”) in existence —the atmosphere of the royal council had descended into utter chaos.

Zenon’s rationalism had been sanctified by her purity, transforming into something unfathomably deep and profound in the eyes of the court.

Thus, the second round of Alphonse’s challenge ended —upended entirely by the Saint’s astonishing, completely unexpected intervention.