Come to think of it, Konoe Taro himself was only a mediocre bureaucrat. He had climbed to this position simply because he was the most senior official in the Commonwealth's bureaucracy and was well-liked—remember, well-liked, not respected.
The reason he could remain in such a high office as prime minister was probably that President Nishita needed a mascot from the previous administration, someone who could show the world he hadn't forgotten his roots and was a decent man.
In politics, being a decent man was always the most important public image.
Prime Minister Konoe had returned the favor by playing the role of an utterly unremarkable third-in-command. He hadn't even fled when the Empire's forces reached the city gates.
Come to think of it, this administration really wasn't bad. Half the legislators had already fled, but the cabinet ministers had all held their ground. Was it because they were truly courageous, or because they had so much faith in the conquerors' mercy?
Marshal Ferrago wondered this as he reached out to steady Konoe, who had once looked after him when he was still a junior officer. He asked in surprise, "The vice president is under pressure..."
People who felt pressure were people with a sense of responsibility. But old Paul had never seen that quality in Mr. Yero before.
Prime Minister Konoe nodded. His smile was still stiff, as if it had been forced onto his face by a rubber mask, but his excited eyes now held a hint of schadenfreude.
"Yes. Minister Qiu from the Foreign Ministry—the vice president's old classmate and close friend—has defected."
"Defected..." Marshal Ferrago remembered that after the Alliance declared itself neutral in the war, Foreign Minister Qiu Moran had led a delegation to the Galactic Civilization Council in Huaxu, hoping to win support from