On the day we decided to shelve the Ghoul problem, a breaking news bulletin flashed from Latarnia.
[The Taikyoku Nation has issued a Statement of Condemnation, demanding that the Galactic Empire immediately cease its current course of invasion.]
Invasion?
First off, our Empire was already struggling with a severe birthrate decline.
Expanding our territory was physically impossible. If anything, I wanted to secure our borders and pull out of this galaxy as fast as we could.
Was it those Proone planets that were basically forced on us?
Even with those, I planned to colonize them with the educated Proone survivors once the terraforming was complete.
When it came to the Proone, dismissing their entire value system outright risked a future cycle of vengeance.
That was why I limited their curriculum to nutrition, science, and medicine.
And it was working.
Child mortality was down, and their temperaments were mellowing out.
I suspected that their abnormal aggression was actually mental instability brought on by malnutrition.
Not to mention their brains literally rotting from abnormal prions.
Now, I was encouraging them to farm soybeans.
I decided to let the Proone Faith remain, so long as we could prevent it from turning back into a Cult Religion or a breeding ground for conspiracy theories.
Actually, the Empire generally left people alone, whether they called themselves a Great King or set up some cultist paradise on an Unclaimed Planet.
Take Ren, for example. She was hailed as the savior of the Beast Race and addressed as the Great King, but Wifey didn't interfere.
If Ren started claiming to be the "legitimate Galactic Empire Emperor" and staged a Coup d'etat, we’d have to execute her, but until then, she was left to her own devices.
Interfering poorly and sparking a later rebellion would be far worse.
As Wifey put it: "As if I have time to react to every bit of sleep-talking!"
Besides, the Beast Race’s long-term goal of ending discrimination would be achieved once Ren and I had a child.
The kid would be a guaranteed member of a Duke-type house and wield real political influence.
Furthermore, the moment the Zork War ended, Wifey had declared: "All races are equal. The Empire will not tolerate any form of discrimination."
Of course, we were cranking out the propaganda.
We officially reported the Proone as "Victims of Anti-science."
Now, while Wifey wasn't bothered, the bureaucrats treated this as a massive issue.
We focused heavily on teaching the Beast Race how social systems worked.
We also provided vocational training as a measure against unemployment.
Though, to be fair, they mostly just wanted to join the military where Ren and I were stationed.
For the Proone, we provided nutritional education and agricultural training—the foundations of life.
We taught science and industry to those who were interested.
As for Proone culture and art... we were teaching it, for now.
The teachers who had signed up for the Outer Space Dispatch Project were pulling their hair out.
The scholars who had hoped to make a name for themselves in deep space were doing the same.
I mean, their music sounded like a cheap hotel commercial on a local TV station, and their art consisted of garish murals in primary colors.
The only people happy about it were the cultural anthropologists.
For the time being, we were teaching a curriculum reconstructed from whatever data we could scrape together.
...So, what was my point?
We were only helping them because they were practically extinct; we weren't ruling them!
We were just cleaning up the aftermath!
They’re almost all children; they won't even be able to run a country for another ten years!
And besides, wasn't it Latarnia that wiped them out in the first place?!
On that note, the Latarnia Ambassador—the representative of the ones who actually committed the act—was absolutely fuming.
"A Statement of Condemnation was sent to us as well."
Apparently, it was titled: "Say No to Genocide."
He was smiling, but his eyes were twitching uncontrollably.
He was likely at his breaking point from the non-stop stress.
When I asked, it turned out the Taikyoku Nation had wiped out more civilizations than there were stars.
Forget destroying nations; they were a country that had slaughtered entire populations multiple times.
I suppose that’s what happens with a nation that old.
Ancient nations tend to leave a trail of messes throughout their long histories.
But from Latarnia’s perspective, it was a case of: "You’re the last person on earth who gets to say that!!!"
He cheered up when I gave him a sample of our new Energy Drink for Latarnians.
I also handed him a Health Drink infused with various Latarnian medicinal herbs.
Keep fighting the good fight, Mr. Ambassador!
Personally, I felt we had a very friendly relationship.
Now, regarding that Statement of Condemnation, even Latarnia couldn't just let it slide. They issued a formal protest that very same day.
The clouds were starting to gather.
Ah, I see.
Against the Taikyoku Nation, which operated with a "don't sweat the small stuff" attitude to force things in their favor, stood Latarnia—a nation that never lied and obsessed over the tiniest details to an absurd degree.
Their compatibility was the absolute worst.
Latarnia sent over their trademark move: a mountain of incredibly dense paperwork.
I highly doubted the Taikyoku Nation would even read it...
Watching the exchange from the sidelines, we were the ones feeling the most jittery.
I was worried about when Latarnia would finally snap.
The Ogre God Nation, being a tiny country compared to the giants involved, was in a total panic, fearing they'd be caught in the crossfire.
Not the "run away" kind of panic, but the "silently volunteer for the front lines" kind of panic.
We sent our own rebuttal through Latarnia.
Not that they’d read it either.
Honestly, the Taikyoku Nation had the distinct stench of a well-aged Duke Association.
Though I suppose they felt a bit more refined.
Now, I’d predicted there would be contact once the condemnation was out.
If they were just barbarians who attacked without warning, I wouldn't show them any mercy.
While I was waiting with Wifey, contact arrived almost immediately.
But it came from a completely unexpected angle.
"Our nation hereby declares war on Latarnia. If you fight alongside us, we shall permit your continued existence."
Ah, right.
I'm definitely siding with Latarnia.
There was no way we could ever get along with a group whose opening move wasn't even an attempt at a conversation.
I decided to leave the difficult calls, like comparing national power, to Wifey.
"The Taikyoku Nation is out of the question."
Thought so.
That said, since we didn't have a formal military alliance with Latarnia, our basic stance was to stay out of it.
We only cooperated on maintaining security in the surrounding sectors.
We had worked out those details with Latarnia and the Ogre God Nation.
Latarnia was the kind of country that would die before breaking a promise, but as long as you nailed down the contract details, they weren't scary.
When we were told things like "exclude Latarnia," we just ignored them.
If we actually listened to that crap, they’d only look down on us.
So, we wouldn't make promises, and we wouldn't give consent.
Instead, I’d give them an answer that made them feel like they might get what they wanted. Morons!
And so, the Slippery Escape Strategy—answering with endless, greasy ambiguity—was born.
Actually, I had been waiting for this.
Waiting for the Taikyoku Nation to say something incredibly stupid.
Because once they did, we could just drop the act and go full Yakuza on them.