Chapter 54: Proposal for Military System Reform
The financial reforms Zenon had enforced unleashed a fierce storm in the royal capital.
The abolition of noble pensions. The freezing of vague subsidies.
These measures threatened the very foundation of the nobles’ comfortable lives, which had long been sustained by the warm swamp of vested interests.
Within their manors, the nobles seethed with hatred and curses toward Zenon, their resentment swirling like a low, lingering fever.
However, after witnessing the tragic downfall of Prince Alphonse’s faction, none of them dared openly oppose him anymore.
While the nobles trembled with fear and rage, Zenon had already set his sights on his next target.
The enormous national budget pie—and the other sacred domain that consumed a massive share, second only to noble payouts:
A Meeting the Military Did Not Want
“Let us begin the Meeting on the Optimization of the Royal Army’s Organizational Structure and Budget.”
In one room of the royal castle, the kingdom’s most seasoned military leaders had gathered.
There was Gerhardt, the Marshal and Commander of the Royal Knights, clad in silver armor and a crimson mantle.
There was Gustav, the First Army Commander, whose face was marked with deep battle scars.
Alongside them sat the leaders of various knight orders and other generals—each wearing a stiff, displeased expression.
For them, allowing a young, inexperienced civilian like Zenon to interfere in their sacred territory was intolerable.
But the king’s direct orders left them no choice but to attend.
At best, they hoped to slap this arrogant youngster’s “theoretical nonsense” with the harsh weight of reality.
Zenon completely ignored their hostile stares and opened the meeting as if nothing were wrong.
But the first words that came out of his mouth shattered all expectations:
“Your methods of warfare are hopelessly inefficient and outdated.”
The room froze solid.
The faces of the battle-hardened generals reddened in rage.
“You impudent child…”
Marshal Gerhardt growled, voice like thunder crawling along the ground.
“What could someone who has never stood upon a battlefield possibly know of our ways of war?”
“I know quite enough,”
Zenon replied calmly.
He had Rio unfurl a huge tactical map—the formation chart from the Battle of Elm Valley, when the Royal Army barely repelled the Galian Empire’s invasion five years ago.
“In this battle, under your command, despite having three times the enemy’s numbers, our forces suffered nearly equal casualties. That is not a victory. It is a wasteful battle of attrition.”
“What…!”
Elm Valley, a “glorious victory” sung by bards— Zenon stripped it bare without hesitation.
“You ordered five full frontal charges of the heavy cavalry into the enemy center. The so-called ‘glorious knightly charge.’”
“Indeed! Our brave knights shattered their ranks!”
A knight commander boasted.
“That is only the result,”
Zenon replied coldly.
“In reality, the first four charges were obliterated by spears and concentrated arrow fire. The fifth only succeeded because the enemy ran out of arrows. That is not bravery—it is reckless waste. The worst possible tactic.”
He held up a graph showing the rising casualty count after each charge.
The generals were speechless.
Their pride was dismantled by a single graph.
“Chivalry is not a tactic.”
“You rely too heavily on vague ideals like chivalry,”
Zenon declared.
“What is needed in war is not courage or honor, but a reproducible, rational system. A cold, unerring formula for victory.”
He reiterated his military philosophy:
- Complete visibility of the enemy through information warfare
- Total logistical control to maintain operational endurance
- Overwhelming firepower through technology such as magic artillery
“Future wars will not be won by numbers, but by superior intelligence and technology. Your cherished knightly duels are already relics of the past.”
This was a direct attack on their reason for existing.
“ARE YOU SAYING OUR BLOOD WAS WORTHLESS!?”
Gustav finally exploded.
With a roar, he slammed his massive fist on the table, splitting it.
The room ignited with killing intent as the generals rose to their feet.
Gray immediately moved to shield Zenon, hand on his sword.
Yet Zenon did not flinch.
“Yes,”
He said.
“It was worthless.”
The cruelty of that word shocked even the air itself.
“If the country those soldiers died to protect is doomed to collapse because of outdated commanders such as yourselves… then their sacrifices were all wasted.”
The generals now saw Zenon not merely as an insolent youth—but as a threat to their pride, traditions, and very way of life.
An enemy of the military.
The King’s Dilemma
The aftermath reached the king quickly.
Edward IV massaged his temples in agony.
Zenon was right—terrifyingly right.
At this rate, the kingdom’s old-fashioned forces would crumble before the Galian Empire’s modernized army.
Yet the military’s fury was explosive.
They were the kingdom’s power—and its most dangerous powder keg.
Forcefully suppressing them could lead to civil war or a coup.
Reform was necessary.
But stability was essential.
The king was trapped between two disastrous outcomes.
Zenon von Arkwright—
The storm he brought to the capital now engulfed not only the nobles,
but also the nation’s very backbone: the military.
His unwanted war was marching toward its bloodiest stage yet.