[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 148

I raised the corners of my mouth and smiled.

Looking at her, I felt immense joy. The plan had taken another step forward—what a wonderful thing! But public perception—laughing like a mad fool clutching my stomach wouldn’t do—so I had to swallow half of my emotions.

Should I offer a simple greeting? Of course, it’d be rude to meet the Princess without one.

“Was the reception room comfortable?”

“It’s nicer than I expected. It brings back old memories. I’m grateful you had me wait there.”

Gratitude from an administrator of a rival academy we’ve never met! Oh, whatever else, she’s a monarch with no faults in character. I turned fully to face her, offering a chair at the corner of the table. Just in case, I didn’t forget to add a piece of sugar to her cocoa.

Hakari Atsuko is the last remnant of the Arius Monarchy. Whether others died or branched off long ago doesn’t matter much. Now that Atsuko-san—since even Azusa-san calls her by name—is here.

No matter what happens today, I will persuade her. Above all, I’m moving forward because I want to.

“A few days ago, Trinity General Academy decided Arius’s fate. They allowed the remaining people in Arius to form a committee to establish new laws. Do you know what those laws entail?”

A committee of sixteen administrators, including the Senior Administrator, with eleven in favor. The administrators call it the “11.5 Edict.”

“I don’t know. You and the others never told me about it. I couldn’t find any news in D.U. either.”

“Of course, that’s only natural. It was classified. The edict calls for establishing a new temporary administrative committee in the Arius Branch area and demands Trinity’s unconditional security guarantee.”

It was a decision reached after considerable debate. The phrase “unconditional security guarantee” aims to deflect criticism that it’s a hollow freedom. The fact that it diverges from the Tea Party’s intentions is another reason.

The girl didn’t react to my words. Or rather, she seemed to be waiting, sensing I wasn’t finished.

“To put it simply, a new academy will be born on this land. The Tea Party doesn’t want an unplanned annexation. It’s too costly and offers little gain compared to the risks.”

“…Does that mean it’ll be different from the Arius Branch we remember?”

Oh, a sharp question. Does this imply she’s hesitant to return to her homeland with just this explanation? Even considering external perceptions, the Arius Branch to be rebuilt won’t have legal permanence. It’s also for easier relationship management.

Nevertheless, Arius’s identity won’t vanish. If we reject Beatrice’s era, it’s better to inherit an older one—like the peaceful monarchy from centuries ago.

Trinity will let go. They don’t want more burdens in tough times. Neither a de facto province nor a puppet state appeals to them.

With this in mind, I could confidently assure her.

“It’ll be different, yet not different.”

“Can you explain?”

“It’s the perfect time for Arius. The city will develop, and its citizens must return. I won’t fill this autonomous district with Trinity people.”

That’d be something you’d dislike. It’d seem like denying Arius.

The key is that to bring students back, we need legitimacy. The Tea Party tasked me with finding a way, and I came up with a promising plan, which is why I sought you out. Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?

“There aren’t many ways to learn about the Arius Branch before Operation British… at least not for me. I had to comb through countless documents in the vaults. And I became certain of one thing.”

I looked into Atsuko-san’s red eyes. Black and red—somehow like mine.

“The Madam failed.”

The Senior Administrator agreed. Even within Arius, many rejected her reign. At least after the Eden Treaty Incident, there was significant public discontent and a mass exodus from the autonomous district.

The biggest criticism was the complete lack of economic measures—for a decade! Considering much of Trinity’s canon law focuses on taxes and price stabilization, it’s clear why they gradually declined.

“Prioritizing the military over people is a valid stance in politics. But it shouldn’t be put into practice.”

Political scholars call it “military-first politics.” Ignoring the world’s workings, focusing on an unprofitable military while neglecting to favor it, only using it to suppress society and eliminate rivals. It’s like overfeeding dogs to use them as hunting hounds.

The military is a pure consumption group. As someone in the military, I know this best. Investing in it yields only more weapons and maintenance costs. Pouring total production into it is a disaster.

“Let’s do a thought experiment. You invest profits from economic activity into the military. Since the military can’t generate profit, there’s no return. The next year, there’s less money to reinvest in the economy.”

A death spiral. The economy shrinks, but the military’s share doesn’t. The year after, there’s even less money.

“If that continues, a singularity arrives—whether it’s systemic collapse, famine, or flood. Economic hardship translates to food shortages. People can’t buy anything, and public discontent erupts. Rationing begins, but the supply dwindles.”

“…Sure enough, we had less food than before. I was in the Squad, so I fared better than others, but…”

A perfect example of economic collapse. When opportunities to invest in the military shrink, leaders feel a crisis. No matter the means, they must keep their elite guards or special forces well-fed.

Otherwise, they might not maintain power. Hmm, quite standard.

“Students don’t farm. In a deserted branch school, food runs out. In a rush, students or the student council grow famine crops. Oh, potatoes are tough to handle. Food shortages plague the regime for years.”

Everyone knows people need food to live. When food dwindles due to shortages, she can’t expect the same combat strength. If the entire military suffers, it weakens.

And we,

“We call that a catastrophe.”

“…”

I don’t know what Atsuko-san was thinking. Her expression was that blank.

“…Anyway, what I’m saying is, Trinity won’t follow Beatrice’s path.”

Would the blood shed in Operation British be in vain?

“But we don’t want to leave just the name of Arius either. Your help… no, the opposite. If you accept our help to rule justly, Arius can grow while maintaining its identity.”

“…Me?”

I don’t expect Atsuko-san to be exceptionally capable. Experienced administrators like the Senior Administrator will handle the practical work.

But I have expectations that she won’t ruin a fledgling academy’s future by passionately pursuing misguided paths like past leaders, while barely rebuilding infrastructure.

At least she can lead the political situation in a useful direction, build diplomatic ties with other academies—having a “special” relationship with Trinity—and establish basic industries and heavy manufacturing to rise as an autonomous academy.

She doesn’t need to be a full student council president, but she should pull at least half that weight to keep the nation alive. Fortunately, she likely has that much ability.

Her ascension to the throne won’t be a mistake.

“Hakari Atsuko-san, I formally propose that you take the Arius throne.”

***

The kind girl didn’t refuse our proposal. At least we didn’t force her, so that’s good, right?

I heard the Senior Administrator was thrilled. When I later told her about the paperwork, her aging accelerated, but no amount of pleading reduces a 17-pounder document barrage.

The wise student soon gave up and focused on practical work. There’s no shortage of administrative orders to process.

“Administrator, what are you looking into now? It’s been a couple of hours.”

She spent the entire lunch break digging through online archives and document piles. I hadn’t seen her this intense since we tried to socially ruin Azusa-san. What’s going on?

“Hmm… I’m looking for a new justification. As I recall, the laws before the ‘Arius Manifesto’ were from the monarchy era, so we can find grounds for electing a new queen. Well, most were lost after the civil war began.”

“Trinity has really old canon laws too. Like not firing falconets in the Tea Party hall.”

“The edicts directly proclaimed by the royal family were called National Edicts. Since there was a gap between the Ecumenical Council’s excommunication and the civil war, quite a few were issued, including ones about throne succession.”

A kind of succession law, I suppose. In Trinity history class, a new Host election requires a convention.

“So we need to restore the National Edict?”

“Yes. Announcing it before the coronation—at this point, it’s somewhat finalized—would be good.”

“Hmm… note it in the plan. I’ll review it later.”

I said, signing an order as Proxy. The gentle sun sank beyond the horizon.