“Treating them like slaves is an equally stupid plan,” I said. “That will only stoke animosity from the refugees. What will they do if the resentful refugees plot a rebellion or terrorist attacks? They’re only cultivating the seeds of a disaster inside their own country.”
“Then… what about the policy taken by the Gran Chaos Empire?” Jirukoma asked me, looking me straight in the eye as he did.
I scratched my head. “It’s very like Madam Maria to adopt that sort of policy.”
The Empire had received a considerable number of refugees, too. The Empire had provided them with uncultivated land within their country, following a policy of recognizing the refugees as temporary residents if they worked to cultivate it. In other words, they’d created refugee villages, allowing them to manage themselves. If they were able to sustain themselves, it didn’t hurt the Empire’s coffers any, and if they were able to return north at some later date, they would leave behind all of the land they had cultivated. Either way, the Empire couldn’t lose.
Well, that was probably how Maria had sold it to the people around her. This was a woman so gentle she had been called a saint. In her heart, she’d probably done it because she’d felt sorry for the refugees. By making them be self-sufficient, she had made it possible for them to remain inside the Empire while not giving up on their desire to return home. Even if they couldn’t return home, because their territory was inside the Empire, she probably thought they would naturally assimilate with the people of the Empire.
It was the opposite approach to what I was doing now, making the refugees give up on their desire to return home and forcing them to assimilate.
But…
“Sorry, but… that’s a policy our kingdom can’t adopt.”
“Why not?” Jirukoma asked.
“It’s dangerous.”
If they gave them uncultivated land and had them develop it, sure, that didn’t hurt the Empire’s coffers. For as long as the Empire’s power didn’t wane, the refugees would obey them and would likely feel indebted to them, too. If that lasted for a hundred years, they could be expected to gradually assimilate with the local population.
However, there was no telling when times would change.
It was the nature of our world that power we held today could be lost tomorrow. If the worst were to happen, and something caused the Empire’s authority to weaken, what would the refugees do in response?
“It’s land that they cultivated by the sweat of their own brows,” I said. “Might they not feel like it was their own? That’s not an issue with the generation that longs to return home. They likely would feel a stronger attachment to their homeland than to the land they’ve cultivated. However, what of the next generation? The generation that was born there and has never known their homeland? Would they be able to accept the fact that the land their fathers sweated to open up to development was merely on loan to them from the Empire? Wouldn’t they think of it as their own land?”
In Earth’s history, there had been the case of the Serbians. When the Kingdom of Serbia had been destroyed by the Ottoman Empire, many Serbs had fled to the Hapsburg Empire (the Austro-Hungarian Empire). The Hapsburg Empire had actively welcomed the Serbs. They had them develop land near the front lines with the Ottomans, using them as colonist soldiers to defend those front lines. The Serbs had developed the frontier while fighting the Ottomans. That harsh environment had bred a strong desire for self-rule in the Serbs, developing a fertile ground for ethnic nationalism.
In time, the nationalistic concept of Greater Serbia had emerged, causing the incident in Sarajevo which had triggered the First World War, and ultimately destroyed the Hapsburg Empire.
Furthermore, Serbian policies centered around Serbian nationalism had provoked the rise of nationalism in other ethnic groups. Their conflict with Croatian nationalism, in particular, had been gruesome with massacres on both sides.
The refugees were a multiracial group, but they would likely develop a sense of common identity through shared joy and sorrow. That common identity could take on a nationalistic face that separated the refugees from others. The Gran Chaos Empire had taken in the sparks that could possibly set off that sort of gruesome situation in the future.
Jirukoma furrowed his brow. “Do you believe the Empire’s policy is mistaken?”
“No… I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “It’s a difference in our ways of thinking. Madam Maria chose her policy because she believes it’s the best. I can’t choose it because I fear it’s the worst. That’s all there is to it.”
I had noticed this with the Mankind Declaration: the Empire had a tendency to choose policies with a high return even if they also carried a high risk hidden inside them. Meanwhile, our kingdom was focused less on returns and more on risk management in the policies we chose.
Neither approach was inherently better. It was a question of which was more suited to the era we lived in, and that was something we would only learn after the fact.
“Then, Your Majesty, what do you mean to do with us?” asked Jirukoma. “You want us to give up on returning to our homes and become people of this country, and to get out if we won’t. You won’t make us cultivate the land, won’t conscript or enslave us… What exactly is it you intend to do with us?!”
Jirukoma raised his voice for the first time. Even Komain, who had been waiting for that outburst, shuddered when he did.
Jirukoma carried the fates of all the refugees here on his shoulders. This intensity was something lent to him by the weight of his burden. However, I bore a heavy burden of my own, too.
“…Owen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fetch me the thing we discussed.”
“Understood.”
I had Owen go and get a long tube for me. It was about twice as thick as the sort of tube you would put a diploma in, and more than five times as long. Inside was a large piece of paper rolled into a cylinder. I unfurled that paper in front of everyone. When they saw what was drawn on that paper, Jirukoma and Komain’s eyes went wide.
“Is that… a city?” Jirukoma asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “The new city being built on the coast. Its name is Venetinova.”
I showed them a map of the new city, Venetinova, that I’d had constructed as a strategic point for transportation and commerce in order to speed up distribution.
“This is a city that I built at the same time as I rolled out a transportation network when I first came to this kingdom, but it only just recently became ready for people to live in,” I said. “We’ve still only created the residential district, the commercial district, and the port of commerce so far. From here on, there will be more institutions being added, and I plan to develop it as a city at the leading edge of culture. Also, we’re going to be putting out a call for residents soon.”
I looked at Jirukoma and Komain and said, “I am thinking of including the refugees in that group of residents.”
My words made Jirukoma and Komain gulp.
“If you will give up on returning to your homeland and become people of this country, I will prepare residences for you,” I said. “This being a new city, there will be lots of work available. Everything from physical labor like the transportation industry to employees in the stores. For a while, I’ll continue to provide financial support, too. If you become members of this country and work honestly like the mystic wolves, I am prepared to give you a place where you won’t starve and you won’t freeze.”
“That’s…”
Jirukoma and Komain’s expressions trembled.
It’s weird for me to say this myself, but I wonder how I look through Jirukoma and Komain’s eyes right now. Am I a savior reaching out to them in their time of need… or a devil, tricking them with sweet words?